#brock rumlow x male reader

[squippy360]

Your Dark!Dom Steve story is way too hot, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Could you do something similar where it’s Anti-Hero Steve and Detective/Agent Reader?

Like, Reader is ordered to hunt down the infamous vigilante Steve Rogers, but keeps letting him go because he has a crush on his quarry. So Steve captures Reader and subjects him to hypnosis that makes him give himself completely to Steve. Reader becomes a totally submissive slut who loves being a Good Boy for his Daddy, and Steve breeds him constantly because he’s just that horny and dominant

I mixed it up a bit. I hope you don't mind. :)

Steve Rogers x Male reader x Brock Rumlow x Bucky Barnes

Cw:(dark! Steve and Brock, collars, choking, aphrodisiac, bondage, biting, kissing, foursome, Love circle.)

You were the hottest and smartest detective on your squad. You had been locking yourself in your room, working hard on this case you had been handed weeks ago. After the first frustrating week of not getting anything, you started burning yourself out, trying to get a weak point in this case. This certain vigilante was 'capturing you' but always let you go. It made you frustrated to find the reason why.

You finally hit a good spot and chased after it head on, alone of course. You thought you could finally end it all, put a nail on this file and finally put it away but of course, something changed drastically.  

You were sneaking around an abandoned warehouse, overhearing that the Captain of HYDRA was going to be here. You felt something odd about it but decided to go anyway. You easily snuck past guards and security, the problem was finding the asshole. You reached a quiet room where he was standing right in the middle. I tilted my head in confusion and made sure there weren't any people around before quietly entering the room. In one swift motion I shut off the lights and raced towards him. 

I collided with him in the dark, wrestling to get him onto the ground. Once I had him pinned down, another set of arms came from behind me and held me down. Multiple pairs of arms grabbed at my legs and torso, trying to keep me from struggling. I growled in a low voice and tried to squirm out of their grasp. A grunted when a needle was shoved into my neck. I struggled more but couldn't get loose. Eventually, I passed out. 

(😈Timeskip😈)

I groaned as I came to. My vision was still blurry and I tried to move my arms. They wouldn't move and I looked around. I was in that stupid fucking machine. I growled as I glared up at a man with straps coming from his shoulders to form an 'x' on his chest. He had a leash in his hand. It was connected to a collar on a man with a left metal arm. He was on his knees, a muzzle attached to his mouth. He was nuzzling his face against the standing man's leg. 

The 'x' guy grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. "Captain was right. You are a catch~ You'd make such a good boy for my Captain~" I tried to talk but I couldn't, something strapped around my mouth prevented me from talking. 

I glared up at him. We all turned to the door and saw the 'Captain' walk in. I glared at him as he came closer. "We are going to have so much fun~" He purred and turned to the other 2. "Rumlow. Start the machine for me. I wanna play with the Asset while you train mine~" Steve purred. 

A headset strapped on my head and restraints bolted around my arms and legs. My breathing hitched and I felt a shock go through my body. I let out a muffled scream.  

(Another one [time skip])

After a forgotten amount of time, I finally felt the electricity slow in my body stop. I was now immobile as they stood over me, grinning sadistically. You stared up at them, vulnerable and scared. They seemed to enjoy this even more. Asset was rubbing his face against your leg now. The restraints let you go and 'x' pulled me up to him. My legs were weak and I clung onto him. He smirked and dropped me. I fell onto my knees and looked up at them, my eyes glossing over.

"He's all yours." Rumlow said. Steve nodded and pecked him on the lips. "Good boy~" He praised. Rumlow blushed and stood against the wall with the Asset. Steve pulled out a leash and collar. I voluntarily lifted my head and let him put the collar on. I whimpered through the muzzle as he put the leash on. 

"Let's go to the training room~" Steve purred. He tugged the leash and I crawled along next to the asset. We got to a bedroom with a lot of 'toys' everywhere. Asset already knew what to do and waited for his masters after they locked the door. I whimpered when he nuzzled against me, pawing at my crotch. My body shivered as I looked at his hazy eyes. Steve pulled me and the asset up on the bed. "Brock, Get the lube. Bucky, be a good boy and don't move, you too M/n~" Steve rumbled in our ear. They both pulled away to get some stuff. 

They got a set of dildos, a bottle of lube, plugs, collar tags, and a whip. He laid me down on my back and spread my legs. "I'm going to take both of your muzzles off. No biting and be nice." Steve scolded. We nodded as Brock and Steve took our muzzles off. Bucky immediately pulled me into a needy kiss. I moaned and kissed him back. "Such needy boys~" Brock rumbled. I moaned loudly when Bucky bit my lip. 

Brock yanked my clothes off while Steve wrangled Bucky to get his own clothes off. I spread my legs as he tied my hands above my head. I stared up at him while he spread lube all around my ass. "Are you ready to be an obedient pet? Hm? To submit to your masters with one simple word? Speak." He growled. 

I arched my back with a whine. "Yes, Masters! I submit! I submit!" I begged out. He bit his lip and smirked. He got a whip that was sitting with the other stuff. I gasped when Steve surprised me with a needle to my neck. "Master?! W-What was that?" I cried out. "Did I say you could speak?" He said with a dark voice and spanked me again. 

I shook my head. "Just a little something to get you all worked up~" Steve hummed. He tied my legs up by my ankles. Bucky was placed on top of me. He eagerly pulled me into another kiss. I moaned into it loudly as I felt 2 fingers being pushed inside. Bucky moaned as well as Steve fingered his tight hole. 

My legs began to shake slightly as Brock rubbed my prostate. Bucky bit my lip and went crazy on my neck. I groaned and nuzzled into Bucky's neck. "Go on, pet. Tell the asset how you feel~" Steve said, running his hand on my right thigh. "Asset!!! It's so good!!! Please, More!!! I want more kisses and bites!!! Please use me!!!" I cried out. 

Steve slapped Bucky's ass and I moaned when I felt him bite down a bit harder. "I think they're ready, Sir." Brock said to Steve. Steve smirked and tilted Brock's head up by his chin. "Good boy~" Steve purred and pulled him into a kiss, taking his wrists and cornering him on the wall. Me and Bucky looked back when we heard Brock moaning lightly. Our cocks were twitching at that and Bucky rutted against me. I looked into his eyes with a heated look. I felt my body spasm with pleasure and the liquid Steve shoved inside my neck kicked in.

"C'mon, good boy~ Let's get your reward~" Steve purred. I saw Steve pull out a powerful vibrating dildo. He lubed it quickly and shoved it into Bucky. Bucky screamed and thrusted against me. "Speak asset~" Steve hummed. "MASTER! PLEASE ME MASTERS! I'M BEGGING YOU! I PROMISE I'LL BE GOOD!" Bucky keened. 

I threw my head back and cried out when Brock's thick cock bucked into me. Steve watched us, leaning against the wall and slowly stroking his cock. Bucky pulled me into another harsh kiss. My whole body was burning and I felt so horny. I let out a desperate whine and kissed Bucky back. His metal arm came up and started choking me in a way that didn't hurt but felt really good. 

"Speak, Pets." Steve breathed out. "S'good, Master!! I'm being so obedient for you, Masters!" Bucky cried out. "Please, Master! My body is so hot!! Pease fuck me, Master!!! Until I can't think!!!" I begged. Steve went to Brock and sensually grabbed his hips. He bent Brock onto Bucky and started fucking him. We were all moaning loudly. "Steve!!" Brock begged out, nuzzling into the nape of Bucky's neck. Bucky's eyes rolled into the back of his head and I felt him cum on our tummy. 

Steve was pummeling into Brock. "You all are. So. Fucking. Obedient. I love all of you~" Steve growled and bit the nape of Brock's neck, thrusting a final time before cumming into him. I felt Brock cum inside of me and I screamed out, cumming onto me and Bucky's tummy. We all stopped moving, panting loudly. Bucky pulled his hand away from my neck. He pulled me into a much softer kiss. I kissed back, grinding up into him. Steve kissed his marking on Brock's neck, quietly praising him. 

I whimpered when Brock pulled out of me and his cum leaked out. Bucky gasped quietly when the dildo was pulled out and replaced with a red gem plug. Steve pushed a black gem plug inside me so Brock's cum couldn't leak out anymore. They let my legs and arms go. They put a black and blue collar around my neck with the words 'Pet' on it. My face heated up at that and I smiled a bit. Bucky's collar had the word 'Asset' on it. He nuzzled into me again, resting on me.

"Such good pets~" They cooed as me and Bucky passed out. 

Next up: Stucky x Male reader

#avengers x male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #x male reader #male reader #captain america x male reader #captain america #brock rumlow x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #crossbones #crossbones x male reader

[darkdemeter]

GUARD DOG

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #4 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Mafia! Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — First time doing the sex pollen trope so it may be a bit stiff? Looking at doing more werewolf exposed to sex pollen stuff because I think it’s an interesting concept!

WORD COUNT — 24.7k

READER DISCRETION — Mafia/mob orientated stuff — violence — death — slight alluded to relationship with Natasha — trauma, some ptsd — mention and implied SA and forced sexual encounters (none main cast) — graphic depictions of torture, "animal" cruelty, experimentation and family death — exposure to sex pollen (reader only) — mention of previous usage of drugs (forced) — reader is dehumanised, usage of negative titles/names — sexual themes — SMUT** 18+ MINORS DNI — monster-tongue fucking — "Mate" usage and status — will feature "male variant" and "female variant" smut separate segments — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — All that you are is a guard. An obedient soldier. You have killed, maimed and other atrocities, but before you lose yourself you will do all these things for her. With the death of Pietro, Wanda remains as the sole heir to the Maximoff empire. As her loyal guard, it is your duty to protect her at all costs, and you will do so until your last breath; come what may. You now engage in a manhunt for Brock Rumlow, to exact revenge for the Maximoff heiress. However, it's not that simple. He's disappeared to the winds without a trace and so, those of the American brotherhood come your aid. However, when they bring news of Brock's whereabouts, it will force you to encounter a part of your dark history that you've purposefully kept hidden from Wanda. Ironic that you will venture to a place that still holds you captive yet is the stepping stone of how you gained your "freedom".

ACT I: AMBER & BLOOD

It all happens so fast. After a torturous incline of sinister  lingering just out of reach, Rumlow finally struck. Wanda could very well have died tonight if it weren’t for you, unfortunately, Pietro is lost in the crossfire. 

A black SUV rolled over with a fried, sizzling engine, and crumpled metal, Wanda’s leg is pinned between the driver’s seat and her own, unable to prevent Pietro from being dragged out. 

His yells of protest mix with the blood curdling sounds of flesh being pummelled and choking on his own blood. Wanda cries out in her suffering, her agony that cuts her deeply like a knife, turning without pause. She now realises she should have listened to you when you told them it was a set up. 

She’d been adamant the Rumlow Family had want for peace, such as them, and that with some luck, they could forge a new schematic and plan to control the European territories together in their newfound alliance. Foreign powers were not often taken in by those of the European empires and families unless they proved to have wealth, power, influence and anything else that could bolster their own standing. 

How wrong the Maximoff twins were, to think of such pleasantries like children with an over imaginative mind for wishful thinking. To believe honey-coated words. They were revealing their hand of cards to the dealer before it was the right time. 

She and Pietro only glimpsed at the surface of this opportunity, they didn’t take care in looking into the depths, they blindly ignored your advice to consider what was being offered. They had no elders to hit pause and test them, to let them properly judge the situation accordingly. 

The only means of guidance the twins were offered after the death of their parents did little in doing the right thing. Blubbering messes, hidden agendas, so-called family friends that failed so miserably in their job to counsel the Maximoff heirs. Trusted members that swore they would do all in their ability to protect the interest of the family, blood and business all.

It then fell into the palms of your clawed hands. Hands that were often healing bruised and splintered knuckles if not blood stained. It was up to you to rectify their mistakes. To provide the support of being a shadowy advisor, because of the scolding looks you were given whenever you tried to voice your own opinion at the sit downs. 

The ideal scenario of meeting with the Rumlows also implied that you were nowhere in the picture when the negotiations went down. Yes, Wanda and Pietro both agreed that your presence would only push Rumlow to refuse the deal, along with their desired terms.

 Did they truly think that he wouldn’t agree under the silent oath that he would later turn on them, your presence there or not? Rumlow was the dagger in the cloak. 

That’s why you were not in the car with them when it happens. But you were tailing behind them, to ensure that they were safe. That was your job, your purpose to be with the family, to protect them. And thankfully, given your experience, you knew something was off from the very start. 

The black, winding street lined by the green foliage of woodland is shrouded in darkness, Rumlow’s men are convinced that this was the perfect spot for their ambush to take place. Their cars formed a blockade in the direction the SUV was driving through, the white lights blaring through the thick shroud of night, a thin and constant blanket of fog muffled their black silhouettes. They appear more ghost-like than they really were. But they were very much real. 

Wanda continues to scream for her brother, pleading with the suited men to let him go, but they don’t. Instead, they laugh and joke while Pietro is beaten into a broken, bloody mess. His face is cut and littered with dark welts that contort his features, a hideous display of the brutality that could have been avoided if they just listened. 

She tries again and again to pull her leg from the tight wedge but cannot. When the car rolled, it sealed her fate, locking her in place to endure the cruelty of their consequences. 

You hear her shout for you then. Her voice, shrill and raw with desperation, she wills you to be at her side; unexpecting that her words seemed to be a work of magic when the large, muscular frame of your other side leaps from the canopy of trees and bushes behind her.

Rumlow thinks he is the only beast that none can trifle with. His memory is lacking or perhaps he’s purposefully blocked out the incident. 

The men who are your now sworn enemies are caught in the frenzy of their panic, alarmed by the swift form that tears Pietro’s attacker into shreds in seconds, his blood rains down like a storm, covering them and the dark road illuminated by the streams of light. 

From Wanda’s trapped place, she cannot help the swell of admiration and hope in her green eyes, the men cower before you as you protectively stand over Pietro’s unconscious body. The threads of her vocal cords are tightly constricted under the influx of tears that mist her eyes, making them faintly shine, yet she prevails to utter your name in the midst of her shock. To see that you actually came for them. 

Like a guardian angel. A guard dog. 

The fiery orbs of your amber eyes haunt the darkness and even so far to reach Wanda’s soul. To behold the gaze of such anger, she cannot even pray that those targeted by such hatred find rest when their bodies have grown cold and lifeless.

It is one thing to test the fury of a man. It’s a completely different story when one tests the wrath of a werewolf. As far as the reputation of your collar goes, you don’t take kindly to your enemies, as expected, nor are you known to be merciful towards prisoners. If they intend harm on those that are under your protection, they will die. 

In the amber fires of your eyes that bare the gateway to the underworld, she sees that deeply driven will to protect. She finds comfort in that notion, that you are here right now, already one man torn to pieces, and several more to join him, she releases the breath in her chest like a floodgate as she utters, “kill them all.”

The large outline of your muzzle dips obediently and you turn your sights to the men sent to kill the heirs to the Maximoff Family. No mercy. There was to only be blood and carnage. 

Your towering height only drives the stakes of primitive fear further into their hearts as your bloody jaws pry open, bellowing a baritone howl that freezes fauna and flora both, terrorising their once moment of harmony. 

One of the men shouts orders to the others, his words die on the junction of his Adam's apple when you strike an arm forward. Your claws puncture first and followed by the digits of your pawed fingers, he chokes around the intrusion, and with an equally viscous tug you tear the cords from his throat. 

Claps of gunfire echo with each flash, bullet after bullet try in vain to penetrate your hide, some find more prominent purchase while others ricochet off you and clank against the bloodstained road with false promises that that single bullet would be the one to bring you down. 

For a family allied with the very facility that made you the ruthless killing machine - a family who have knowledge of their fingertips - they were greatly under prepared, sorely lacking the equipment needed to cause you any real damage. 

One man gains a surge of bravery or stupidity and he runs at you, gun in hand firing until his magazine is emptied before he knew it, you see his very life flash before his eyes as you raise your opposite arm up and sweep downward. His scream is cut short when his head is shredded in half and blood gushes in oozing streams, he falls with a meaty thump to the ground. 

Two men armed with shotguns empty their barrels, reload and fire again, the process repeats itself. It’s the middle one that awakens that predator drive in you when he turns and makes a run for it. 

You run at the two men and dispatch of them, claws tearing through their suits and divulging the contents of their stomachs, their internal organs now unguarded by the crushed remnants of their bones, they topple free and onto the ground at their feet. Their legs are quick to give out as shock wracks their bodies, hands shakily attempting to pull their innards back in with little hope of succession. 

The final man who now flees the scene wheezes, and quite loudly at that, firearm disarmed when your jaws clamp shut around his forearm and tear the limb from his shoulder with a squelch and a bone-breaking pop. 

He clutches at the deformity of his missing arm and his hand is soaked with his blood, the wound leaves a trail to paint a streaky, black line that now shines under the uncovered moon; taking a leisurely peek through the veil of obsidian clouds. 

You can tell that the shock is getting to him as much as he tries to carry on, he’s becoming weaker. He now stumbles like injured prey, exactly what he was to you in this moment, whimpering as he drops to the road with a helpless grunt. 

He’s desperate from how he crawls from you. You slowly stalk behind him with some level of intrigue, head cocking to the side and your ears twitch against the blowing breeze, you snarl lowly when he turns to peer up at you. 

“P-please!” he shouts weakly as you flip him into his back with minimal effort, “d-d–don’t! No–!” 

You make him suffer for the trouble he and his fellow men put Wanda and Pietro through. You make the agony last, something that goes against the natural instinct to end a poor animal’s suffering; it was broken out of you in that facility. 

You maul to hurt people. You kill to hurt people. All things natural and that bring you closer to that connection, that tie that binds you to the balance of nature, was ripped out of you to mould you into an obedient pet. 

An animal that follows orders. The duality between wolf and human, both were equally broken in.

His screams of horror and agony tear through the night until he couldn’t anymore, his throat tired out from screaming to whatever god he held faith in, your teeth rip into his bowels and chest, flesh and bone minced into chunks of paste and blood. He now laid bare with the entirety of his midriff destroyed. The light in his eyes now faded. 

The threat is now neutralised, you realise and swiftly you turn and trudge back to Wanda. When you reach her, she’s managed to just wiggle herself a little ways out of the open door frame, fragments of glass dig into her palms until they draw blood, mere droplets in comparison to what you drew from Rumlow’s men. 

“Y/N,” she whimpers quietly in relief. Her face is scrunched tightly with a hiss as she attempts again to free herself, a strangled cry of frustration is what it takes for her tears to break free. 

Your ears are pinned far back against your head at the sound. Brutally self-beating in her vulnerable state. You reach forward with a growl, you shove the leather seat forward and with the mechanical gears popping, Wanda’s leg is freed. You help in dragging Wanda out from the car, Your nose is wet and hot against her skin when you press it to her, inhaling her scent as you sniff her over for any potential injuries. 

“I’m fine,” she assures you but the wrinkle of your muzzle tells her you don’t appreciate her diffusing the matter of your job. “Pietro!” 

Wanda pushes herself to her feet with newfound strength. She hurries to her twin brother and rolls him onto his back, a gasp on her tongue, you hear her breath hitch in her lungs while she takes in the sight of him. 

Her next move is hesitant but she has to know. She dips her head, turning it and presses it against his chest, her hand covering the deep cut right at her nose, the iron scent of blood fills her senses and her face winces. 

The lively thump in his chest is silent. 

“I knew this would happen. I told you, but you didn’t listen.”

Though with words so evident in their truth, Wanda finds them venomous and harsh to her ears, still in the grasp of shock, the loss of her brother is the final straw. Not only two years ago her parents were killed, and now another Maximoff finds themselves in the grave. She is the sole surviving heir to the Maximoff Family and their empire hinges upon her. 

A burden, you feel, is crushing her from the inside as all eyes will now turn to her. 

She sits on the edge of her lage bed with her legs pressed tightly together, hanging down over the side, hands folded in her lap in defeat. Her long hair shields her tears from you, when you glance up from your place at her vanity do you catch her reflection. A girl done in by the trauma. In the moonlight that pours through the window, her body is quivering in waves, mind and body at battle with overcoming the death of her brother. 

You cannot help but wonder if maybe this is all your fault. Had her parents not been killed, had you been there to protect them, would she have been spared from it all? 

She’s terrified. The grief that accompanies her loss doesn’t go unshared, you have your own reasons to mourn. Pietro, although a little too cocky at times, was a good brother and son who intended to change the playing field of your world. A young man who had a vision but ultimately was blinded by his ideas to see the world as it was, that there were those who saw different alternatives to get what they wanted. 

And Rumlow was one of those people. 

The heat of your body angrily laps at the streak of icy coldness of your blood when you hear behind you the shriek of a thousand tears, memories shattered into pieces, torn apart by the fragile thread between life and death and all the unfair tactics this life offers.

 Wanda now screams into the palms of her hands, body caught in a violent spasm amidst the ocean of her pain. “H-he’ll come back any minute… he will, he’s just– just in a meeting–”

You walk slowly towards her and kneel down in front of her. “Wanda, look at me,” you growl and turn her chin up so her watery eyes meet yours. 

“He’s gone. Rumlow isn’t going to play things out the way you both hoped he would. Think about it, he fucking almost ended this entire family tonight had I’d not been there.”

The delicate, plump shape of her lips part with a small and faint gasp, her eyes bore the slow realisation of what you were saying. Yet her eyes beg for you to take back what you said. To offer her an escape from it all, to just tell her what she wants to hear; not what she needs to. 

It’s unfortunate news to her as you shake your head slightly. You cannot let her fall into the false dream that everything was alright. Like a bandaid, you have to rip it off. She had almost been killed. Had you not been there, after the men dealt with Pietro, they would have gotten her too. The thought of it causes an unwelcome shiver to run up her spine. 

“Rumlow aims to snuff out the entire Maximoff Family in order to gain territory. And he’s not going to stop until he’s put you in the ground too.” 

How could your words be so hard to hear but equally so right in their conviction? You were trusted by her parents, someone they considered part of the family despite your otherwise humble dismissal that you were just a guard to the family. They considered you equal to their standing. 

And Wanda waved off your warnings as if you didn’t have a clue. Hell, she doesn’t even know half of what you had to endure at the facility. The horrors of your time growing up in that damn place are accounts you’re not overly excited to share with anyone. 

“Wanda,” you say her name to draw her unfocused eyes, to bring her back to you, “you’re all I have to protect now. I swore that I would do everything in my ability, and I will. But promise me, you won’t do anything like that again.”

Your eyes hold her attention, firm and unwavering in the looming silence between you. She feels her heartbeat race a little quicker now as she becomes lost in the certainty of your protection, the caged beast beneath the surface, she nods. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sigh heavily as something finally eases the tension in your shoulders, you let them drop lower and bow your head, face inches from resting in her lap. Her fingers comb the length of your hair, soft and drenched from your quick shower to rinse off the blood that clung to your fur. 

She lets her head dip as well and soak in the scent of your shampoo, a strong smell of pine, something naturistic, compared to the one she used. Not at all the scent she would peg you for with your rough exterior and stoic personality.

But that was all a front. Time and time again she’s seen a side to you that you keep away from others. A tenderness you reserve for her, even your claws tend to be drawn back whenever you’re just in her company. Much like they were now, she marvels at the sight of those sharpened tips that you use as a weapon, as they now reduce back into the nail beds. 

Other than that, all she got to see was your dominating and intimidating stature, tough as iron front, letting all know that she was under your unwavering protection. That you guard her. 

Your head rolls up and your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together in the miniscule gap between your lips, an inch apart you would have considered inappropriate before. But that was when you were unsure and reserved, humbly turning down any sort of praise and keeping your feelings locked away in some dark corner of your heart. 

Before you came to realise you were in love with her. 

You try to calm the rapid increase of your heart rate as if somehow she is still in the clutches of immediate danger, that at any moment she will be taken from you. Her lips, so plump and full and kissable, ghost over yours in silent contemplation. She knows just as well as you that this teeters on a fine line, that this can jeopardise everything between the two of you. 

And nobody could know. A werewolf guard and the heiress to one of the largest and well established criminal empires in the world, if anyone found out, it would cost you both everything. 

What terrifies you is the thought that you could lose Wanda at any moment. The constant what if questions. 

‘What if I were unable to prevent her demise? What if I fail her?’

“I just can’t lose you, Wanda.”

You shake your head at your own words, their meaning so plain and simple: a confession. 

“I promised your parents that I would always protect you.” 

It’s like she could see through the cover up. Yes, you did swear yourself to them that you would protect their children, their daughter, but you also used it as a line of defence. To save face from the awfully timed confession. 

“They’re gone, Y/N. Swear it to me.” 

Her hands cup the shape of your face, the pads of her thumbs soft, delicate against the contours of your features, the tiny and healed scars that littered your face alone, the rest of them were hidden beneath your clothes, how her simple touch calms you and makes you more alive than ever. Her touch is a revival. For once, you’re given the reprieve you long for. To feel trusted wholeheartedly. Loved.

Your hands run up the sides of her thighs until they pause right on the rise of her rear, your fingers grasp firmly and tug her that little bit closer, your forehead pressed to hers and that amber glow shines brightly in your eyes in the dimly lit room. 

“I swear it.” 

Your lips come together as two separate forces once held far apart for too long, now the pull draws you both inwards to the other, magnetic and electrical. Passionate and hungry. You waste no time in sharing one another’s taste as your tongues glide and entangle amidst the heat of your kiss. 

Her fingers rake through your hair and tug on the roots, earning one guttural of an animalistic moan from you, the sound results in a wetness to pool between her thighs, and you can smell her alluring scent. Your hands knead her arse, your tight grip possessive as you have her in your grasp, after all this time. 

You’ve done many horrible things in your long life. But Wanda drowns it all out. For a moment or more, you are free of the guilt, the shame, the fear of being capable of hurting her. You’d snap the next man’s neck or shoot a hundred bullets into a corpse without so much as a sweat. But you’d be damned if you laid a hand that intended harm on Wanda. 

And that’s why you swear to her now, that your loyalty shall remain intact. Because you have killed for her. You will kill for her. 

It came with the job but now it comes with the instinct, the desire to have her as your own. 

Then again, that was the light of your soul, what little there was that isn’t eclipsed, the faction of your humanity and questionable morality, talking. 

ACT II: ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE & WAR

ONE WEEK LATER

The party was hosted in honour of Pietro, a final toast and salute to the young male heir, a dear boy and treasure lost in the battles of struggling power. Many of the European mobsters respected the Maximoff Family, and would attend the party to pay their respects forward. 

However, Pietro’s death did not only shake the foundations of the criminal underworld within Europe, but overseas as well it would seem. So when mobsters from the Americas attended the honorary party, to say you were more protective in regards to your duty to Wanda and the Maximoff Family doesn’t cut it. 

Tony Stark and the band of his notorious brotherhood swagger in, Tony wearing a brighter shade suit than those of his company - who at least took greater care in setting their palettes to the familiar dark shades of mourning - the bright pink of Stark’s tie makes something seethe inside the pit of your stomach. 

The disrespect of Pietro’s memory makes your blood rush and the wolf inside is itching to unleash itself right there and then. You can just tell he’s stirring up the party on purpose, no doubt to get the attention of Wanda, and your assumptions were correct when Natasha joined your side. 

You took to seeing over the guests from the upper balcony that circles the lower level of the great hall. Your eyes narrow and zero in on the American group of gangsters the moment they walk in, not too long after their arrival does Stark lead them over to the bar, the server working double time to fulfil their order. 

Natasha follows the target of your gaze and smirks. “You’re burning holes into them with your eyes.”

She sees the amber hue dissipate, but only slightly, the lowly embers ready to become a roaring fire once the right fuel is added, to be devoured by your anger. “They’re here for a foothold.”

You only hum, the sound is short and dismissive. “They’ll behave themselves and ask for nothing, if they know what’s good for them.” 

“Stark has already sent an inquiry forward to have an audience with Wanda,” Natasha says and you finally look at her behind the hardened scowl, set hard into your face like stone. Your grip tightens on the glass nestled into your palm, the sound of a fragility splintering in your hold threatens the iced liquor of becoming a wasted mess on the floor. 

You take in her appearance, red hair short and styled into wavy curls, makeup neutral for the most part, save for the shadowy appeal around her eyes and full lips painted in red to draw attention - even yours momentarily - to them. 

She takes notice of your eyes wandering her body from head to toe and she playfully quirks a brow. “See something you like?” 

As if to test your resolve, she arches her back ever so slightly, her already short, black cocktail dress rides only higher, leaving little to the imagination. The work of art is already standing there beside you. Once you would have leapt at the opportunity, but not anymore. That was the old you that would have instantly pulled Natasha to you and smacked her rear until they were red with your handprint, whispering in her ear all the ways you would deal with her teasing.

But the new you stands above that. You’re loyal to one woman and one woman only. 

With an unamused shrug, you take a swig of your liquor. The taste rolls over your tongue with a rich, burning sensation. 

“Not interested, Romanoff. I’m a changed wolf.”

She chuckles at that, head tilting to the side with a cheshire grin. “And here I was, getting all dolled up for you. What a waste.” 

She juts her bottom lip out and you roll your eyes, gaze falling back onto the scheming mobsters below. 

“Maybe not. You can always use your skills down there,” you nod your head in the direction of your eyes, “and convince them to back off.”

“You can’t always protect her from people like them. Sooner or later, she will have to engage in business deals, and you can’t keep her hidden in her ivory tower forever.”

“Not forever,” you correct sharply, “just until Rumlow is dealt with and she has recovered from Pietro’s death. The last thing I want is for her to be taken advantage of.”

What you’re asking of her is laughable to her by the way she quietly cackles beside you as if you told some hilarious joke. “Naw, Puppy, are you letting something show?” 

You shake her head in response to her nonsense, you won’t be baited into feeding into what she alludes to. 

“You know, I hate how it’s expected of us women, when our means of support is taken. Now that Pietro’s gone, she’ll be expected to marry some rich overlord or some don.”

That makes your blood run cold and skin turn searing hot. The idea of Wanda marrying someone like that isn’t what you want to be thinking about right now, no matter how true Natasha’s statement is, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Your tongue runs over your top teeth, a fang manages to nick the moving muscle, drawing a few drops of tangy blood to join the tartness of truth. 

You bite back your next comeback, the muscles in your cheek clenching tightly like coiled springs ready to snap under the pressure, she and Tony both are equal in their game to piss you off tonight. Nobody wants to see a werewolf snap, even those who think they do, they’re quick to see the error of their ways. But Natasha always found the thrill in that, in her little games, she was always doing something to rattle your chain. 

“Just do that for me, yeah?” 

“And what if I don’t?” 

She teases you again, bending one leg forward until her thigh brushes the centre of your groin. Her eyes are half lidded in her mission to weaken you, to break you in, and in this case you’re not taking a single liking to the notion; that someone is still trying to achieve what another has already done, too far gone in your head that it’s a fried mess of pure disturbia. 

Your other hand curls around her bicep and you drag her towards you and spin her, pushing her back against the pillar next to you. She stares up at you, eyes wide and hopeful in their longing to watch you crack, your lips curl into a sneer. 

“You don’t want to find out.”

You push her away from you, taking great care not to be so rough, lest she falls back and stumbles in her black high heels, she scoffs with a wave of her hand. “Alright, alright, I was just fooling around. I’ll deal with them.” 

With a gust of a snort through your nose, you nod and take your leave after draining down the rest of your drink and slamming the glass down on a nearby server’s platter as you strut off. You pay no mind that the force you restrained only prior with Natasha had transferred over and the glass shattered upon impact with the metal tray, glass clattering and ringing like a steady beat of a drum. 

Your little show with Natasha proved to be quite the performance to the American mobsters who occupied the seats by the bar. 

You didn’t want to doubt Natasha, but you held some mistrust in her task to do as you asked, the matter more personal than practical to the business side of things, but you wanted to seek out Wanda. 

You couldn’t blame her for lingering back from the party for the time being and drown herself in the sorrows of isolation. 

But particularly after Natasha brought up the case of marriage, you had to seek Wanda out. Your fear is irrational, fearing that somehow someone who played the part of some wealthy don or overlord was with her now, down on one knee and presenting her a ring as they asked the question. 

“Will you marry me?”

You all but force the door open with a thrust of your arm, the hand on the doorknob wary of the strength you forced to choke it with. You’d been so deep in your messed up head, you actually thought you heard someone’s voice ask the dreaded question. 

You catch your unhinged jaw in the act, about to scream your objection before Wanda has a chance to either accept or deny, but she looks up at you from her place behind the large, dark wooden desk, the sacramento green leather only brought about to highlight her form. 

She gives you a look of expectancy and beckons you in with a gentle wave of her hand and inviting, sad smile. “Y/N, please come in. Is there something to report?” 

You shake your head in response to her question as you walk into the office - her office - but you believe that it was also to shake the intrusive thoughts in your head away. With a sigh of relief, she lets you involve yourself in her space and become accustomed to whatever strikes your fancy. 

You walk across the way towards the table on the opposite side of the room beneath the large window, curtains tied back to reveal the onslaught of rain and brewing storm clouds. Even the heavens were crying over the loss to the Maximoff Family it seems. 

You hit yourself with the stronger alcohol, tip the decanter and pour the rusty brown liquid into a short whiskey glass. You all but slam the decanter down, this time you thankfully avoid smashing it into crystalised shards. 

Wanda turns her head in your direction. “Everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” you huff as you stare out the window, brows knitted together and you take a sip of your beverage. The burnt taste is stronger than the drink you acquired at the bar, but it does little to quell your troubles and bring about that soothing buzz that warms your chest. 

“I take it you received Stark’s inquiry?”

“I did. And I assume, by the way you’re aggressively scowling, that he’s here?” she answers from her place at the desk. You take another gulp from your glass, lips pulling back into a thin line. Your eyes become thin with a glare, the stare awfully predatory with warning. 

“Yeah.” 

She stands from her seat and wanders over to where you are, the long skirt of her dress tightly fits her silhouette, the ruffle slit along her thigh provides some relief for movement, you watch as she carefully approaches you. 

Her naked hand reaches up and with a touch so delicate in its pure nature to soothe, you lean your cheek into her palm with a rumbling purr, the sound brings a smile to her lips as you’re lured by the touch you were deprived off for most, if not all, of your life. 

How can a mere touch be capable of healing the disturbed fragments of your tormented mind for but a moment? But just like that, the illusion of your wishful thoughts is shattered. Your tone is sharp and cuts straight to the point. 

“Wanda, I strongly advise against it.” 

“I-I know, but listen–”

“No, you listen!” 

Wanda gasps aloud when the shackles of your mind threaten to snap right there, the mentality of a previously caged animal losing itself to the mindless blur returning for the fraction of a few seconds, you pin Wanda in place against the table you stood by, glass rattling together violently from the force behind it, your arms cage her at both sides. The second time she becomes trapped without the capability to escape. 

She has no choice and is forced to watch a darkness creep into the blazing hellfire of your glowing eyes. “Men like him are dangerous. They are the definition of what makes a man untrustworthy. If you choose to see him, then you may as well have Rumlow be walking through the front door as well.”

“I think I can handle a few men in suits, dog.”

‘Dog...’

That was a fine line being crossed. She’s never called you that before and the shrinking of her pupils leads you to believe she regrets letting the word slip out. You can’t begin to dig up the memories of those old bones, the unidentifiable names and titles that stripped you of who you were. Your teeth ache from the pressure that compresses them together like metal plates of a vice, the muscles beneath eyes darkened by exhaustion, they twitch in recognition of the heat of tears. 

Quickly, you squeeze them shut to hide the shameful level of care she'd see. The embarrassment you carry for that more than professional fondness for the heiress. There are just some things that are unable to escape you. In some form, either by something you do or by someone else’s hand, it triggers the past to return and hits you with a punch to the gut, forcing the memories back into the forefront to torment you. 

Through a battle of grit you push aside the conflict that makes your head swim and dizzy. “Will you think that way during or after he has you pinned like this, as he and his men have their fill of you?”

It’s the question that makes the penny drop. One that doesn’t need an answer, you don’t want an answer to. 

“Because believe me when I say this, Wanda, that I have bore witness to too many women who said very similar things and ended up as the victims at the dealing table; not the victors. All the while, I was ordered to sit. Stay.” 

The number of times that shock collar went off to prevent you from protecting those women have only blurred together. The victims became faceless and shielded by the black behind your eyelids. You wouldn’t watch. The one luxury within the sea of evil your prior masters afforded you. 

The striking green of her narrowed gaze widens, the act she portrays to exude confidence and power - qualities expected highly of her more than ever now - they drop within an instant of your words that shatter all hope. Words that bring about the monstrous turn of reality, the world infested by such evil that it plagues all who come into contact with it. You as well, counted as both the victim and driving force that instigates it. 

She sees the recollection of something dark and prominent dominate your eyes, watching the dying embers of amber come to life like fire. Your dark pupils once lingering in the shadows of your thoughts stare Wanda down, right into every inch of her young, and all in all, untouched soul; while also having never left her alone to begin with. She feels the notch of fear bounce in her lungs. Threads of rubber bands quivering, at any given point ready to snap. 

You’ve never given her reason before to be scared of you. But now, you both anxiously bask in the uncertainty of that now. 

These were stories you had no thrilling interest in sharing for the passing of time. Oftentimes you’d rather take a silver bullet to the heart and be done with it all. But then who would protect her from the monsters? 

Monsters who only needed the skin on their bones and the horrendous intention behind their actions to do unspeakable things that violate, destroy and corrupt. 

The dread brings death to the liveliness that Wanda can only bring, a unique source that shimmers in her brilliant eyes, a green hue you knew you were enraptured by the moment you met her. She can’t even bring herself to say anything, to question you and what those eyes have had to endure before the Maximoff Family took you in; sheltering you for what you thought would be just a little while. But no, they took you in. Gave you a place to belong. 

Before the Maximoff Family, you had served numerous other crime lords and the like. As a loyal hound tethered to their leash, you obeyed every whim, every command, no matter how heinous it made you appear; a feral animal at the ready with the simple utterance of an order. 

You knew how these people did their dealings, how they operate and scheme. You’ve seen men getting gunned down across the table, women taken advantage of, and prisoners with sacks over their heads begging for their lives before their slaughter; by your hand or by that of your boss. 

Wanda would be tested and prodded by the elders of the criminal underworld. And if they can see it can be done, you know they won’t hesitate to make her one of those women who were bent over and taken on the very table meant to guard their interests and forge alliances. 

You refuse to let that fate befall Wanda. 

So you take it upon yourself to educate her a little on the matters of criminal diplomacy and negotiations. You push yourself against her until her front is flushed to yours, her breasts having no space but to brush on your chest with every deep breath she takes. Through her dark lashes that bat at you with dark innocence and longing, the colour of her eyes forces a groan to tumble over your bottom lip. 

“Still think you’re capable, Kitten?” 

Your core is a fire that warms every part of her being, she’s drowning out the sorrows with you as her addictive fix, all that she can think about is how you create that electric charge that shocks her nerves and causes that wetness to pool between her thighs once again. The reverberating and husky texture threaded that gives your wolf a voice makes her head swim. 

How that voice would feel against her sensitive, swollen bud as you devoured her, carnally and without restraint. To truly succumb to your beautiful nature and have her the way you would want to. Your nose burrows into the arched curve of her jaw and neck, her perfume hits your senses first, smelling of lilac and vanilla but beneath it, her natural scent hides.

She takes longer than she would have personally liked to answer you, the blurred haze of her mind frazzles any attempt to utter a response. 

“I-I… I just thought that maybe he can– he can help us find Rum–LOW!” You bare your teeth against her neck with a low growl. Her body flinches against the wall of your body. 

“Quit with the stuttering, and let’s try that answer again.”

A hand grasps hold of her face, fingers firmly pressed into the skin of her cheeks and forcing her gaze upwards. You’re leaving her with little to no choice. You remove your hand when her head moves within its grasp in a nodding motion. 

The arch of your brow rises slightly as you wait to hear what you know that must be made known. You want her to admit it. “No.”

“Better,” you drawl, teeth grazing the plains of her warm skin, you can very well taste her but you crave more. Your hands hold her by her hips and your fingers dig into her, sure enough to leave bruising behind. 

“Shit, I need you…” She’s on you in a flash of a second, lips hungry in their mission to ravish you and invade all thoughts you had prior, filling your mind with only her. Wanda’s legs leap off the ground and circle your strong waist and your hands support the extra weight you carry, the slit of her dress parts to reveal the tantalising prize of her thigh, in which you curl your palm around greedily. 

You shuffle back, allowing your heightened senses to guide you back until the back of your calves butt up into one of the accompanying, sacramento leather sofas, you drop yourself into the cushion with Wanda straddling your lap. 

Your lips latch hold of one another, caught in the erotic dance that shuts out all imposing forces. You use a hand to handle her and roughly pull her closer, fingers becoming entangled in the roots of her red locks. Her front rhythmically rocks into you as your clothed bodies try desperately to reach one another’s skin.

Fuck, how her body fit so snugly into yours and so perfectly, it’s like she was made for you. That somehow, Mother Nature herself, ensured that Wanda Maximoff be the only woman to belong against your body, to make your lungs burn with great fervour and stir the strongest instinct to protect. The fitting piece of the puzzle you never realised you were missing until now. Like two marble statues carved, you’re infused together, the bond of carven contact intimate and soul binding. 

The call of something distant and past, a faint memory once far lingering behind reaches through the veil and beckons you to entwine the separate threads of your souls as one. 

Your tongue darts out and teases her top lip. She moans, soft and deep, she parts her lips for you and you slither the eager muscle in, running it over her own, she moans again until you swallow the noise. Her fingers are clawing, clenching the fabric of your suit jacket until her nails scratch at the threaded seams, head tilting to the side as her hair falls onto her exposed shoulder. 

Her taste is divine, hypnotically venomous that leaves you craving more with every passing second. Her core that’s now buzzing in her aroused state, she whines at the friction of your pants digging in between her thighs. Just as you, she craves more. 

She drinks down the vibrations of a husky purr crawling up your throat, she lets out a small noise that all but has both your hands on her arse in an instant, tugging her impossibly closer while she continues to grind away; core against fiery core. 

Her left hand trails down the length of your larger body until it rests over your groin. Your head dips back against the sofa’s back when she palms you, rubbing you firmly through your trousers. The muscles in your torso strain and flex, pangs of arousal shoot to every nerve end in your body. 

“But maybe they won’t dare touch me if they know who I belong to,” she breathes out when she has a chance to break away from your lips, before a high pitched gasp is ripped from her chest. You buck your hips up, harshly to rub her sensitive bud through her panties, the sensation drills her further into lustful madness. 

“Wanda,” you warn between clenched teeth, “that’s quite a few important men I don’t really feel like cleaning up after.” 

“Imagine our relief.” 

Yours and Wanda’s head snap in the direction of the voice. American, a hint of the borough of Brooklyn, and his eyes a cold, harsh winter of blue. He stood there at the entrance of the office alongside those of their criminal brotherhood, tall and broad shouldered next to a man who matched his height and physique, his own hair short and blonde but eyes very much the same; a reflection of something icy in his blue orbs. 

James “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Rogers. You recall their faces. Not only theirs, but the others too share the same form of recollection, that of a dark skinned man, hair shaved back and facial hair styled similar, clean and simple. He too is equally broad across the chest as Bucky and Steve, his dark eyes ever haunted with that looming glare meant only for you. 

To Sam’s side is a lithe shaped personnel, long, raven hair grazing to his shoulders and slicked back behind his ears, pale skinned and pointed nose, and of course, that wide and toothy grin that spoke one language: trickery. 

Amidst the wall the four men form, adorned in their dark, three piece suits, was Tony standing front and centre, his short brown hair slightly brushed in an unkempt manner unique to him. He was a hard man to miss in a crowd when you think about it, in his extravagant suits and auburn tinted glasses. 

They stare at you and Wanda, caught in the compromising position you find yourselves in, their eyes smirking and accusatory. 

A deep, hostile growl rattles loudly into the air, laced thickly with silent tension, and Tony raises a hand up. He leans his shoulder and Natasha walks past him, a smirk of her own plastered on her lips. Her eyes, green and dark like the woodland canopy, portray the power she now holds over you. Of course, she would do anything to ensure Wanda’s dignity remain intact, but yours; she could have some real fun with you. 

Natasha always favoured the power struggle when you both treated the other as nothing but a reliever of stress. When the dynamic of your relationship with Wanda hadn’t been so intimate. 

“Well, to think I was actually correct that you were letting something show back there,” she chuckles and you tug Wanda closer to you, lips contorted into a snarl, “I don’t think you’re enlisted in your paperwork as a certified breeder, or that you’ve been granted your freedoms pass, Wolf.”

“Y/N?” Wanda questions with a whisper, her brows pinched in her confusion. You cannot bear to look her directly in the eye, just catching her stare from your peripheral. 

You growl again and the flicker of amber brightens around your obsidian pupils. 

“Natasha–”

“But Stark wants a deal. I advise we hear him out, don’t you agree?” 

The room gathers silence like dust as you gather your racing thoughts and reel them back in. However much you despised the clean up, now seems like the one and only chance you have to keep this as a tight lipped secret. You would deal with Natasha on your own afterwards.

But Wanda beat you to it as the skin beneath her palms quivered and grew flaming hot to the touch, she had to draw her hands away lest you burn and blister her skin. 

“Okay, we’ll hear you out. But my guard stays.”

“I believe they’re more than that, but very well, they’ll stay.” Tony huffs a haughty chuckle, nodding as he kinks his fingers in sign to his men to follow his lead, to approach you both. Wanda slips out of your lap and smoothes out any crinkles in her dress, chin tilted down to avoid looking up at the mob boss as he stalks closer to her. 

She feels vulnerable, far more than she would have liked, the surge of confidence she had prior to being caught - that naive hope - of getting the upper hand vanishes before her very fingertips. Despite the power of Europe to sustain her as the top Family, she’s revealed her hand yet again to the wrong sort, the dangerous sort. 

The sort that can now utilise you and her as a form of blackmail. The society of criminals as a whole finding out about this would bring a tidal wave of backlash towards Wanda, she would be hindered greatly, maybe even lose support and thus, the empire of the Maximoff Family would crumble into ruin. 

And if Pierce found out, then there was nothing stopping him from dragging you back to that facility. Natasha is correct in regards to your paperwork. You’re no free dog. It darkens your heart to think that you never have been and most likely you never will be. 

Seeing Tony stand in front of Wanda, testing the boundaries of her personal space, he intrudes and you immediately stand on your two feet and meet behind her, your firm front grazing against her back. Your hands ball into tight fists and the claws come back out, harshly they bite into your palms. 

That bright light of amber never once threatens to go out like a singular flame of a candle. It’s a shadowed threat to them that the wolf is just beneath the surface, staring them point blank in the eye, you witness the faint, fiery glow reflecting in their own eyes. 

Wanda is warmed by the heat of your body behind her, she almost finds herself leaning into you but refrains. She must remain strong in front of these men.

By the venom in your voice and the scarred recollection of something horrific past, she couldn’t underestimate these men, and especially not now. Not after what they’ve seen. 

She gestures for them to make themselves comfortable. A tactic she picked up from her father whenever he conducted business, the non verbal form of communication to guide fellow associates and company to relax themselves. 

Your eyes momentarily leave the tinted shades of Tony’s glasses, his eyes meeting yours after he sent a cheeky wink to Wanda, and your eyes narrow sharply when you spy Natasha coming around behind one of the sofas. With a baritone levelled hum, you catch Wanda’s gaze and you cock your head towards the desk, telling her to get behind it. 

It was a matter of ensuring she wouldn’t be in such close proximity with the mobsters, that if they dare to try anything, they have several feet to cross before they can even reach her. 

Wanda does as you indicate and with her head held high and shoulders dropped back, she struts to the large, red wood desk and takes a seat; once the men have taken theirs. 

‘Good girl.’

A ghost of a smirk crosses your features. You’re proud that she managed to pick up on a thing or two, given the position you’re both now caught in, she’s going to regain some of that stolen power. She sits in the tall backed seat, the dark green brings her even brighter shade to shine and almost ominously. The wired wall lights fuel the room with a dark orange halo, but the storm outside grows bolder, thunder begins to roll in to fill the void of silence. 

Each of the four men occupy the four sofas and Natasha lingers between Steve and Tony, she’s like a cat lounging happily, body poised against Tony’s sofa with darkened grace. And still she wears that prideful smirk. Your jaws clench hard, the familiar ache of your vice-like strength makes itself present and the muscles in your cheeks strain and flex. 

You join Wanda’s side, a clawed hand rests on the back of the seat, but unlike Natasha’s relaxed pose you take to carrying a sense of duty and responsibility - chest puffed out and shoulders straight. You’ve seen these very men and more of their own brotherhood operate in sit downs before. Letting your guard down is not an option. 

“So,” Wanda clears her throat and all eyes fall to her, “am I right to assume you want for a foothold in Europe?” You’re both amazed by how well she’s holding herself in front of Stark and his captains, but another part of you dreads how long she can keep it up for. 

“That’s right.” Tony smiles wide with a nod of his head. “I understand that the loss of your brother has struck quite a nerve among the European Families. We wish to lend our support to you and aid you in finding Rumlow. As far as I’ve heard, he has mysteriously gone silent since the attack.”

“But at the price and percentage of the Maximoff’s empire and holdings,” you cut in sharply, tone bitter from the audacity Tony dared to flaunt. He was a blood and power hungry tyrant hidden in the guise of a peacock, strutting around with his colourfully crime-stained feathers - accomplishments that weren’t lacking admiration by many.

The men before you each glare at you in warning to keep yourself in check. They mean to challenge you, to restrain you and remind you of your shackled status, just like the others that scorned you for doing what was not in your job description.

But Wanda doesn’t allow these men across the seas to get away with such iron-glad judgement. 

“Quite right, Y/N,” she praises, eyes bearing the form of daggers, “I cannot just simply agree to your support without knowing the finer details. Terms must be discussed, gentlemen, and I will not leave this meeting with no clean water in my basin.”

You feel the corner of your lips tug up at the flustered, annoyed sight of Tony and his men. Bucky and Steve glance to one another, the pure intent for murder springing to light as a bright flash of lightning blinks through the window. Loki looks to Tony, tight lipped and tongue to the cheek of his mouth in contemplation. 

Are they figuring out that the foundation of their newly gained power is beginning to struggle? Fuck, you hope so. 

“Then we’ll make our terms known,” said Sam with a danger-laced purr, “as a start, we want access to trade outposts and warehouses from Russia to Romania, as well as along the coast of Italy. On top of that, our asking price is fifty percent of the Maximoff holdings and shares, forty percent of earnings from the black market - twenty percent commission if the supplies are manufactured or supplied by us - and thirty-five percent earnt from legitimate business pools.”

You and Wanda spit in unison, “As a start?” 

They really were coming straight in with the big guns. Tony usually was direct, but had a way to honey the words into better luring in the fish. Sam, however, was more abrupt and bold in his demands. 

“I’m able to provide the necessary warehousing and trade routes for them in Russia,” Natasha affirms from her place, sharing a look with Tony. Was this part of some elaborate scheme? 

As far as you could tell, Natasha was on board with keeping Europe completely clean of the American mobsters and criminal empires. What changed? 

“No, that– that is too much…” Wanda’s stumbling over her words. She’s beginning to let those cracks show and you can see the telltale signs that the wolves are now closing in. Bucky smirks, dark, shoulder length hair casting a shadow over his bright blue eyes, nodding as he observes the ever faint breaking in Wanda’s resolve. 

“I have holdings in the military that rivals Rumlow, and as far as I’ve investigated, you are fundamentally lacking within the weapons trade and already, you’re beginning to be cut off from your intel and extortion resources. Really, the only reliable bird you have to your ear is this stunning fox,” Loki says with a hand gestured to Natasha, who waves a hand at him. 

“We have gained a surge of supply and demand for our weapons, thanks to me of course, and if you agree to our terms, I assure you that you’d want for nothing ever again.”

You cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes, a sliver of amber visible within them. As much as you would like to announce the man a thief, for being the likely one responsible for your out of pocket trades with weapons, you think better of it. 

‘We’re not known to be saints at our roots. Our foundations are built on thievery, murder and extortion.’

Tony Stark is a brilliant minded man when it comes to manufacturing products and supplies, both for the public and the underworld. He had quite the gallery. But even then, he wanted for more. He wanted plots to further his expansion. 

‘What if he asks…’

You swallow down the poisonous bile of wrath and disgust climbing your throat. No way in hell would you allow Tony to drop to one knee and live. If that is even his goal to ensure this alliance sticks. 

More and more, Wanda slinks away in her seat, shying away from it all as the walls break further under the pressure of this attack. 

Tony puffs his chest out, arrogant that their plan is working and weaving its way into the folds brilliantly, with Natasha there as a vouching card in their hand of cards. Steve and Sam both lean forward slightly and Loki grins again, pearly white teeth glistening and taunting in the ice blue haze of another lightning flash. 

Thunder rumbles in, louder than before, providing a baritone and ominous tumble of beats. The tension grows thicker and Wanda sits back in her seat, mouth agape in her dissipating will to remain strong, fearing that she’s truly trapped herself and her hands fiddle together under the cover of the desk. 

Something stirs within her core that pulls her green eyes to yours, slightly overstimulated and red with a glisten of tears, she’s telling you with her gaze alone that she needs your help. 

She needs her guard to protect her. 

With a furrow of your brow and hard pressed line of your lips, you assure her with a nod of your head. Wanda became painfully aware that she has to pass the reins over to you in this moment before it’s too late. 

Natasha’s face instantly drops before the initial change. All she had to witness was that plea in Wanda’s eyes and that obedient nod of your head, she straightens in her place, almost submissively shrinking away. 

The structure of your face begins to alter, morphing until the skin shreds around the protrusion of a long, canid snout and sharp fangs, Long, straight ears twitch from the brief moment of muffled noise, the fur on the nape of your neck mimics that of your hair and blends down the slope of your growing spine and outward stretching of your shoulders. You’ve grown several feet taller, if the men before you who now pin their backs to their designated seats had to guess it, they would have to summarise to at least eight and a half feet. 

Your clothes become ragged scraps that fall to the floor, and what little still clings over the form of your body is shredded at the bends of the fabric. 

Fur covers skin and a thick, bushy tail sweeps down to the wood panel floors, your body contorted to accuminate a thicker layer of skin and muscle, fur in a thinner density cascades down your front, most of the fluff of it covering from your shoulders and down the back of your arms and back. 

A sight to behold, you’ve changed into a monster to strike terror into the hearts of the mob bosses. Powerful men who know your weakness, who are most probably armed with that very weakness. But are they favouring their odds to make the first move? 

An angry bolt of lightning illuminates the scene for them, your hackle puffs up and with a fold of your ears, you snarl a viscous and predatory sound straight from the bowls of your gut, your very fur bristles from the vibrations throughout your body.

“Unacceptable. Try again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Maximoff,” Tony says between clenched teeth, head tilting further back when you bend forward enough that your back stoops low and your larger head is at level with Wanda’s. 

The pink of your bared gums is slick with saliva, the long tendril of your tongue comes between your teeth, licking over the top of your lip and nose. 

“Put the dog away, young lady,” Tony attempts to order only for Wanda to shake her head, refusing to obey his order. A raspy snarl bellows in the hollow of your throat. 

“No, I think I’ll keep the wolf out.”

Tony visibly squirms in response to this denial. 

Wanda tilts her head and sensing her eyes on you, the burning furnace of yours glances back at her and she smiles. She’s finding that resurgence of confidence in the comfortable luxury of your protection. With you, she wants for nothing. 

“As they said. Let’s try this again,” Wanda says with her voice renewed with strength. 

“Come on, you can’t seriously think you can–”

“I think she can.”

Steve holds a hand of compromise up to cease the bickering on both sides of the deal. His eyes move between Tony and then you and Wanda. “We didn’t come here to fight, Miss Maximoff. But we’ve had this plan on the back burner for years.”

“How unfortunate for you,” Wanda interjects with a click of her tongue. Steve isn’t impressed with the sokovian’s accented sarcasm. With a huff through his nose, he continues, “your father was unable to be convinced. We had hoped that you may be better where he was not. We’re offering you support here, a life line, all you need is to grab hold of it and say yes.” 

Wanda’s brows pitch down and she gives the captain a chilling scowl that dare he admit haunts him, especially when such a beast at her side leans evermore forward, at the end of its tether and ready to attack. Never has he ever worried about you before during sit downs in the presence of your former bosses. 

They had their ways to keep you in line, the only time you would shift would be to kill some prisoner who had no further use and thus, no purpose to remain alive when privy to such information, or to maul a fellow gangster that didn’t see eye to eye on the table’s terms. 

Had they now turned into that very man?

Right now, Wanda held a dangerous animal in her grasp. With one command she can set you upon them and they would become the mauled victims in the meeting room. 

“Forty percent within the Maximoff holdings, twenty in the black market with a ten-to-ten split on commission to our own donated supplies, the other five we place into a shares fund that we both equally have access to but must come under agreement to use it,” he pauses and when he sees you both nod, he knows it’s safe for him to carry on. 

“For now, we want the trade outposts on the coastline of Italy and within Russia. We can sort out the finer details for warehouses elsewhere and the like at a later time. When Rumlow is kicked out of the fold, we refurbish you with his estates, a cut of his holdings and you can have access to those as warehouses and your own trade outposts. Some connect to fine routes that make for excellent business opportunities.”

Tony looks to have sucked on a lemon, lips pursed and dark brows pinched together. Bucky and Sam share much of the same expression, Loki although, appears mildly amused by these adjustments. 

You suspect that they had come together and agreed that they would not be swayed into lowering what they originally asked for. 

But all in all, you and Wanda find that to be your middle ground. She looks to you again as if to see if you approve. When she sees you nod to her, she knows she can continue. 

“Very well, I accept those terms.” She then lets her eyes flicker up to Natasha. “I trust that you do retain some level of loyalty to the Maximoff Family, Romanoff. So I will let you deal with the matter of your offer in regards to warehouses for our new… allies. But I admit, I cannot exactly wave you through freely into settling in Europe until Rumlow is dealt with. Permanently.”

Natasha nods to this, obviously in agreement with it. To what exactly her own intentions are in allowing them to have access to her own warehouses is primarily not your concern; your only concern is Wanda. But you’d be lying if you weren’t a little curious about Natasha's motives. 

There is a cold bitterness in Wanda’s final word. The grief still comes to her, the death still so fresh to her. And she plans to exact her vengeance against those who have taken almost everything from her. 

Although defeated, the men become more at ease, and with a wave of her hand, Wanda dismisses your overprotective stance. She stands up from her seat, finger pads planted on the smooth surface of the desk. 

Everyone of the four men eye Wanda, dark in their curiosity of her next move. “Now, about Rumlow…”

Tony clicks his tongue with a finger pointed upwards, memory finally catching up with him. He too stands up and for a moment you believe he intends to come at Wanda, your body jostles into action with a deep, rumble of a growl that fades into the next chorus of thunder. Wanda is quick to usher your calmness, hands delicate as she strokes the fur along your back and over the crown of your head. 

Tony slightly stumbled back on his heel but ultimately made it to the table by the window. His sights were set on the liquor. He helps himself easily to the fine brand of whiskey and downs a gulpful. “He was in America but he covered his trail. We cannot say for sure where he is.”

“So how can we find him?” Wanda asks to hide her groan of defeated annoyance. Tony peers over his shoulder, but his focus does not land on Wanda as you suspected. No. They land directly on you.

The way his eyes bear into you like that, it unknowingly unsettles you. You shift your weight on the four pillars of your limbs and your ears flatten against your head as Tony takes another languid sip of his drink, hissing in delight at the taste. 

“I know that he has a business partner that knows where he is. He’s In Madripoor. You may know him as Vision.”

Why, of all places, of the single partner to have knowledge of Rumlow’s whereabouts; why did it have to be Vision, Madripoor’s criminal overlord of the drug trade?

Each muscle in your face is touched by the sting of something best left forgotten, memories you wish you could just shake, a past that you wish every waking moment would leave you alone. You choke on a whimper, the sound weak and hitched tightly in your throat, it causes you to wince in phantom pain. 

“It’s awake. Vitals are stable for now.” 

A doctor whose identity remains hidden behind the white mask over their face, hovers in front of you, studying you behind the bars of your cage, they’re a voice drowned out by the overstimulated sense of your hearing. The background is filled with a high frequency ring, the people around you move in a blur, faces only recognisable and in focus in the line of your tunnel vision.

“Another dose.”

“Let me out!”

“Sir, if we give it anymore, it may have unforeseen side effects.”

“Another dose. As you wish, Sir.”

“Just give them the injection.”

“Let me out!”

That face you recognise haunts you, you scurry further away into your cage but no matter how far you retreat, the back of the cage pushes you forward until your face is against the bars and inches from his own. Alexander Pierce. 

His eyes marvel at the sight of you. He admires the near end product of you. His finest pet in the facility, the role model for the others, and a grand and valuable asset. But he needs this experiment to work.

Another face comes into focus and you cannot fight the roar that shreds through your throat. He ushers Alexander away for a moment, their backs to you as they speak, their words going unheard as another figure moves to block them out of your sight.

“Preparing the asset for injection of the serum.”

“No!”

A doctor approaches you and within the clutches of a gloved hand, they raise a needle high into the sight of your peripheral. The liquid bubbles in the tube, the white lights above blind your vision and make the serum glow a reddish pink. 

Your muzzle is restrained, but nothing physical holds it shut, by sheer force are you trapped in place inside that cage. 

You're carted out and laid atop a metal table, the surface is cold against your back. 

“Vitals are spiking, we need to tranquilise the asset now.” 

“They can take it. I know they can.” 

“Let me out!”

The sting of the needle penetrates the thick layer of your hide. Your fur bristles, your heart pounds heavily in your chest and your mouth feels dry and hot. 

Your body violently convulses. Muscles become strained and skin constricts you, like leather straps holding you down, your very own skin holds you prisoner. In your chest a scream is locked deep inside. Your leg kicks out in a desperate flurry to move, the act is only half successful before a cramp reels your leg back into a trapped status. 

“Y/N?...”

All you can do is pant, loud and thick in the overly bright lab, it feels so cramped being surrounded by these blurred ghosts. 

“I don’t want this!”

“Mr Pierce, Sir, it may not take to the serum still. It’s body fights it.”

“They can take it. I know they can.” 

“Second dose of the serum. Rumlow, please stand by in case of emergency execution.”

“I never wanted any of this!”

Your mind begins to cloud and mist over, your vision turns a shade of that reddish pink, you can hear the unsynced rhythm of all the collective heartbeats in one room. Your muscles spasm in timed units of two minutes, three minute gaps in between your muscles fall lax against the table. 

Your natural body heat increases and you feel as though you’re burning away. But you’re not feeling the desired effects of the poison now flowing through your veins. You writhe and shake against the invisible restraints. 

“Let me go home!”

You want to go home. Where is home? You have no idea what or where home is but all you have is a feeling. A deep-rooted feeling. Is it somewhere far away from here? It must be. It feels long gone. 

Home can’t be the facility. Not in the iron bars, not the metallic and clanky shackles that bind you in place, that keep you there against your will. Home doesn’t restrain you. It comforts you. 

“Where is home?”

Your own voice echoes but nobody reacts. It falls into the deafness of the void. They refuse to listen to the asset of their experiment. 

“Where is home?”

Home cannot be the cold concrete of your cage, or the moth riddled lights that paint only the centre of your cage in a sickly yellow tint. Your home is elsewhere but forgotten. Never seen by you. Never embraced by you nor are you embraced by it. 

“M-Mother!”

Shock rattles you, your vision flashes white before that reddened tint returns over your vision. You see your mother opposite of you, laid on a similar table but she’s turned on her back. Her ribcage is torn open and exposed. 

“You’ll be alright, Y/N. Just think of me and you’ll be alright.”

Her body is knocked to the floor and instantly, the world around you is swallowed up by darkness. You smell the dried odour of blood and rotten meat. Only that shitty yellow light flickers to illuminate her body. From the darkness you see the foul creatures leap out and tear her apart. Their eyes are whitened with madness. Their minds are tortured into a spiral of neverending want for carnage. Lost to the touch of their humanity. 

She cries out, howling and yelping as they shake her apart, her body remains still throughout the attack. She cries out to you. She’s begging you not to watch, urging you to never see it happen. Try as you might, you attempt to claw your way towards her, to defend her. You can’t. You’re unable to protect her from those monsters. No matter how far you crawl, the back half of your body dragging behind you like dead weight, you can never get any closer.

“Ready the injection.”

“Vitals are peaking, we cannot risk another dose so soon.”

“We’re losing vitals, we’re losing it!”

“Ready the injection.”

“Give them a moment. They’ll pull through.”

Your back, laced sweat, arches up from the bed, a groan is on the edge of your lips but cannot escape. You’re fighting. Fighting and struggling against it, it will not let you go. You struggle about, rocking your body from side to side, your muscles fall loose for a few seconds. 

You try to cease this moment. But then you’re trapped again. Pulled back into the mixture of torment. 

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!””

Everything is dark red, the erratic pulse of your heart flushes pink in time with each coursing beat, the voices are drowning in the song. 

Your mother is strewn about the cage, the corners blacked out, bleeding into the void beyond.

Your breath stills as the yellow light shuts off with a whirring moan. 

You’re back in the lab. Alexander’s hand grips at the fur along your neck until he’s tugging it harsh enough to rip it out. “Don’t you dare give in, dog. Embrace it. I need this to work. I’m counting on you.”

You just want your mother back. But she can’t come back to you. She’s gone. She’s taken from you. Has been for a long time now. 

You grew up in that cage alone. 

Suddenly you’re knocked off that metal examination table. You see a woman in the blackness of the cage’s corner. She weeps into the crook of her elbows, hands bloody and clutching onto the iron bars. Her feet slip in the inky, crimson puddle at her feet whenever she tries to pull herself up to stand. 

Her naked body is covered in blood and marks made by claws and teeth. It’s… confusing. 

“G-get away– f-from me! M–monster!”

A shroud of dizziness cloaks your mind and you stumble slightly on your hind legs. Your vision goes from dark to bright, unable to make its decision and commitment. You see now that your clawed hands are covered in a warm and thickened substance, crimson and smells of iron. 

“Another failed attempt.”

“Mr Pierce, the experiment has ended in another failure. It’s body cannot adapt to the serum as we hoped.”

Alexander Pierce glares at you from the window in the observatory room. His lips screwed into a thin line and his brows troubled by the news. His fists clench together until his knuckles turn white. 

“What did you make me do to her!”

“Mark them down as unbreedable. Gas it.” 

The vents hiss with an aggressive poison clouding the cage. You can’t see through the green haze, your lungs slowly giving out the more you breathe in the gut wrenching scent of the gas. The taste is awful on your tongue and soon enough, you taste bile along with it. Your body lurches forward and you fall. 

The woman’s face had been hidden, unable to make out any distinct features, to put a face to an unknown name. She lays ahead of you some feet away, the gas having killed her far quicker than you. 

Her hair that you swear was once a chocolate brown colour is now brighter. Her eyes lost that light of life but you can make out the green shade of them, and that unknown face and unknown name is now identifiable, you can hardly believe who you see before you - with you - dead in that cage. 

“W–Wanda…”

You cough and sputter as the air in your lungs becomes far too polluted to continue breathing. A low, sombre howl fills the chamber and your vision goes dark. 

“Y/N!” 

Finally you find the willpower to scream and it utterly terrifies Wanda, chilling her to the core at the horrific shrill and raw intensity that ensures your vocal cords are shredded and sore. The much needed reprieve that brings tears to her eyes and a hand to clasp over her lips to keep herself from sobbing aloud, all because you’re in pain, you’re suffering, and she fears she’s unable to help you. 

“Wanda! Wan… Wanda…” Your shoulders rise and fall in rapid succession, chest taking in the fresh air that thankfully isn’t polluted by the gas, only the four walls that are now imprinted with your screams. 

She crawls the small distance between you both across the bed. When she finally reaches your side she brings your head to her chest as she ushers you to relax, the rest to that scarred mind filled to the brim with horrors you want to forget. You can’t forget. 

However, the world is still a little fuzzy, at least it appears that way, as if the fogginess followed you out of that world and into this one. You wish to call it a nightmare, and it was for the most part, but the most ghastly and haunting nightmares always stem from the evil roots of the past. 

“Wanda… oh, fuck, Wanda.” You sigh in your relief and you don’t hesitate to pull her to you, face burying into her chest, absorbing this one good thing that is her - just her - before the claws of that darkness tears you from her; and you fear for good. 

You can always feel yourself slipping. You’ve run, only to continue slipping, and you still run, only to remain slipping away. No matter what, you know you’re falling into madness. 

It’s just a matter of time. You’re a ticking time bomb at this point. And you’re left to wonder, how will you protect her then?

“Shh, shh… I’m here, Y/N. I’m here,” she whispers against your scalp, lips beating down a warm breeze that begins to recharge you and make the fuzziness go away. 

Is this home? It’s uncertain but maybe it can be. 

‘Maybe she is my home.’

“It’s okay, not real, Y/N. You’ll be alright.” Your arms pull tighter around her, the words of your mother echo in the misty haze of your memory, tears prick at the corner of your eyes. She whines softly that you’re squeezing her too hard. With an uttered apology into her breasts, you slightly ease your iron grip so she is able to breathe. 

You don’t ever want her to experience being at a loss for air, to never suffer the suffocation she had to in your nightmare. All you want for her is her safety. There is nothing else. 

But this is war and when love is thrown into the fray and spied as a weak point, there is no level of fairness to what comes next. 

ACT III: MIXING POISON WITH PLEASURE

A FEW DAYS LATER

Streaks of light reflectively race across the sleek, black coat of the escort car as it passes over the long draw of the bridge. Steve and Bucky occupied the driver and passenger seats, the tinted shield muffles the snippets of their conversation. Perhaps old friends reminiscing on memories, talk of minor business advantages, all of which you can only suspect without much confirmation. 

Tony and Sam sit across from you with their backs to the tinted panel, leaving you and Wanda to be the target of their sharp and penetrating observation, done so in silence. 

Silence that is broken by Tony taunting you, his new hobby since being stuck on a jet together for a few hours prior to the drive. “Excited to be going back? A lot of familiar sights and faces to get reacquainted with.” 

Something in your stomach flips and your palms grow clammy, eyes fluttering from side to side as you chase to calm the unease setting into your shoulders, heavy with the weight of the question upon you. 

Your eyes freeze when Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a faint crinkle in her brows prods you inaudibly for clarification. An answer to the mystery of your place exactly in Madripoor. 

A part of your past that you left ambiguous and for good reason. Wanda’s parents were the only ones who had knowledge of your origins, so to speak. How exactly you made your exit from the facility and right into the employment of some prideful overlord. 

“Not particularly,” you answer quietly, the answer dry on your tongue. Ice clinking together when he orientated his wrist to churn the liquor, Tony chuckles over the rim of his glass, the nervousness in your tone a dead giveaway to the truth of your feelings. Repressed to save face. 

“You’re rather well known among the populace,” Sam chimes with a cold drawl. His eyes are thinned into a glare. “For reasons… Well, I’m sure you know why. Can’t say the same for her.” 

His head cocks in Wanda’s direction and you feel that worry simmer more in the pit of your stomach. 

“Y/N, what are they talking about?” Wanda finally asks, voice strained by the betrayal of her hurt, the seed planted in her mind that she is some sort of outsider to the information that passes between you and the two men seated before you.

“It’s nothing, Wanda.” Your answer is fired too quickly to simply mean nothing. No, she knows you’re hiding something sinister. 

“You know,” Tony sighs to conceal a gurgle in his throat, “I’ve said to Steve once that I don’t trust people without a dark side. But you…” 

He utilises one finger to point at you, accusation at his fingertip, the ice clinks harshly against his glass now. “You’re the exception. I don’t trust you because you have too much of a dark side.”

Your brows pull down hard and your lips curl into a tight frown. You feel the animal stir below the surface of your skin. Your muscles tense until the skin begins to strangle around them. Outside, the familiar buzz of criminal life and night lights give away your location. 

“And why exactly do you think I have too much?” 

Your nightmare from that night comes to you in flashes. Perhaps Tony is right in his given reason…

He taps a finger to his temple slowly. “Because, I’ve found that Alexander’s werewolves always tend to be fucked up in the head.”

This underlying fact is not exactly news to you. But hearing it from another person, it begins to dawn on you. The slipping away. Your eyes falter until they see nothing but the toes of your boots.

Never would you think that you’d be on route to Madripoor. Back to the established territory of all crime, the residential host of the black market. A place which incidentally led you on the path you lead now, despite still lacking your freedom, the Maximoff Family did allow you some sense of it. 

But you still weren’t in complete control of your life. When children mature, they’re expected to go out into the world and make a piece of it their own. When you matured, you were put out into the field and ordered to complete that task. And then another after that, and so on. Never given the chance to make a little piece of the world yours. 

The world - the criminal world - made you theirs. 

And because Alexander did a fantastic job in rearing an obedient pet, you were an expensive investment. Surely enough to continue pouring funds into the project that supplied loyal hounds into service. Last you heard, more and more werewolves came into demand after your rise of succession. 

And a good part of it began here. Now Madripoor remembers you just as much as you remember it. 

Steve pulls off to the side of the street, engine purring lowly, Bucky pats his shoulder before he shuffles out of the car. Sam pulls a handgun from the hidden holster in his jacket, checks over the magazine and slots it back in. Tony pours himself another drink as you, Wanda and Sam also exit the car.

“I’ll see you guys when you get back to the hotel. Try to stay out of trouble, dog.”

You rasp over the curve of your shoulder, eyes burning with that dangerous amber. Tony snaps his fingers at you to garner your attention. “Hey, keep the eyes from doing that. You’ll be recognizable enough, don’t let that get you pulled into a messy fight.” 

You grumble in response to his warning. Like he’s ever been in a messy fight, too busy firing the gun when his assailant's back is turned. Wanda stands right next to you, brushing against your arm. Draped over her body is a long, fox fur coat that reaches the ankle of her black heeled boots. Her chin tucks into the soft textured collar to keep something of her identity unrevealed. 

If she is discovered so early before you locate the man you’re looking for, things could escalate into that messy fight Tony wants you to stay out of. With a wave of his hand, the car pulls out and speeds off down the strip, leaving the four of you on the sidewalk, left at the entrance way that leads down into the slums of Lowtown. 

It’s like Madripoor was frozen in time, everything is how you remember it. The dark and neon black market scene, stalls and cube stores packed with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the cluster of smaller gangs. The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

The only thing that has changed only serves to prove Tony’s case; there are more werewolves about. Beasts loyally shackled to their masters, bought and enslaved to obey. In passing, you spot a rather poor sight. You’ve seen gangsters put their skill into the ring countless times and a way to earn reputation and some cash. 

However, now they’ve taken it further and put werewolves into the pits. The crowd enveloping the ring cheer and shout, arms pumping in their enthusiasm for their bet to win. Meanwhile, two wolves are pitted against each other. A male and female, her body is more lean - and dare you admit it with a gulp - scrawny looking than the male’s. He’s been taken under someone with finer living circumstances than her, better resources and care. 

Bucky, Sam and Wanda follow your stern inspection of the fight. You smell their mingling scents of unease at the sight. 

“So this is what Tony meant,” you sneer. Bucky and Sam don’t answer you but you just know that if they did, they would confirm it. 

The male has the female pinned, she yelps and in a flurry of panic, she snaps her jaws around the bulk of muscle on his shoulder, her teeth doing little to rip into the flesh hard enough to get him to back off. 

He’s enjoying the torment of her struggle. The way he isn’t rushing to finish off the fight, idle in his stance above her as he holds her down. 

It truly sickens you. Humans can be a foul lot, corrupt in their ways of seeking entertainment to cure their boredom and wealth to cure themselves of poverty. But it’s all you know. 

Even then, a deep-seeded growl emanates from you and rumbles the tension laced air around your companions when you see the male become aroused by the squirming female. 

“Come on,” Sam says rather quickly and wraps a hand around your bicep, dragging you away before you do something that will get them into trouble. 

Wanda gawks at the monstrous sight, the female’s whines and howls echo in her ears, perverting her with images she never wanted to ever conjure up while Bucky steers her after you and Sam with equal haste to his partner.

You take no leisurely pleasure in walking through these parts and it doesn’t help that you get questioning glances from the large variety of locals. You too follow in Wanda’s lead in keeping your identity on the down low, you use the high collar of your jacket to keep your features unrecognisable to the crowd. 

Sam and Bucky tail behind you both with a lax swagger to their step, eyes taking in the neon and polluted scenery around them. The slums are where the amateurs and those smaller gangs operate freely and without much prejudice. Above the poverty, Hightown shines with the more luxurious affordability, belonging to the bigger fish, the real criminal powers. 

And Vision has that power within that grasp. Up there, rubbing elbows with the grand gentlemen and dolled up women, mingling and gaining alliances under his belt. So why venture into Lowtown? 

Because once, these streets harboured a terrible incident, one that now leaves your face smeared on for show as wanted. Because just down the series of lanes and roundabouts of corners, there is a divide between the common criminals and Vision’s depot, because it also operated as a factory. 

“So you’re not going to tell me anything about what was said back there?” Wanda asks. You tilt your head and you catch the sharp incline of her raised brow, her eyes piercing through the veil of your clouded, troubled thoughts. 

“Not really something I want to go into detail about.” She huffs at your response. Ever the one to avoid the topic whenever the subject revolves around you. 

It’s little wonder how she knows what she does about you. “So you have some sort of history with these men in particular, you have some estranged connection with Vision and with Madripoor, and to top it all off: Tony doesn’t trust you because of this supposed… dark side. What is it you’re hiding from me, Y/N?”

She’s getting assertive with each word as she walks in stride with you, eyes glaring up from the curtain of her hair, still keeping her chin as low as possible. Your lip curls up to reveal sharp, elongated canines. 

You rasp coldly, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

There is a challenge in those green eyes of hers, unrelenting to be brushed off. After the connection you both shared, the way your lips were in sync with one another and how your bodies melded together in the heat of that feral passion and need. She thought you could trust her, to be more open with her. 

It seems she was wrong. 

“Don’t take it to heart, Miss Maximoff,” Bucky drawls from behind and a growl resounds in your chest, “Y/N is what we tend to call a wounded dog. Licking the wounds of their injured pride because they can’t afford to let anyone in.”

“And on top of that, they end up all fried in the head,” adds Sam with a venomous tune. You can just sense the dance of his eyes, brows high and cheekbones drawn down in his taunting. 

If they were trying to get a rise out of you, they were succeeding much to the unwelcomed behest of your annoyance, maybe filling in for Tony’s absence. But if they intended to heed Wanda with a warning of who you were before your employment as a guard for the Maximoff Family, then you fear that this is also a succession in the making. 

Wanda stops in place and turns to face the two men behind her, willing herself to not shy away from them or the way they tower over her. “You speak of my guard as if they are purely a mad-driven, bloodthirsty animal who has no grasp of the human they are. Wolf beneath or not. Show some respect or else.”

Sam and Bucky also stop, causing you to commit halfway in turning to look at the scene. Sam sighs as his eyes divert from the Sokovian heiress. “Apologies, Miss Maximoff.”

But just like that, the act switches and he gestures with a hand, a dark smirk on his lips. “But look at this. I mean, criminals are wanted all the same. But in Madripoor? My, that is one persevering poster. One mean lookin’ animal.”

You snarl towards Sam and Bucky as they guide Wanda’s sights to the screen panel that displays a photo of you. Written beneath, it states the price rewarded for your capture and turn over to none other than Vision. 

100,000 Madripoor dollars. 

Her gloved hand lifts up, her plump lips - lips that you want nothing more than to savour and taste against yours again - agape in their shock to find a piece to the mysterious puzzle that is you and your shrouded past. A past you preserve in the shadows and where she believes you intend to keep it. 

Away from her. Out of sight, out of mind.

Out of your own fucking mind. A twisted and corrupt mind. Is what these men say true? Are you some wounded hound licking at the gaping festering scars of your past mistakes and vulnerability? 

Her fingers curl forward, mere inches away from the display of your face, fingertips just caressing the digital profile of your jawline when a hand snaps hold of her wrist. The grip is tight and a gasp is torn from her lungs, eyes watery in their gaze as they stare into yours; that amber hellfire prominent beneath the cooler tones of the neon lights and grey tinted smog. 

Your jaw is clenched hard. She’s really struck a nerve now, unintentionally, but still, another attempt at crossing that line leaves you with a bitter taste of something resentful. Ashamed. 

“Let’s go.” You leave no room for her to argue. With a hand on the small of where her back is, your hand momentarily feels the true soft, silkiness of her coat, you push her forward to continue walking. Then your eyes lift up to meet eye to eye with Tony’s men, the two of them basking in the way you hide Wanda from yourself. 

Twin smirks stretching their lips, they both chuckle in cause of their muted plot. Now you’re beginning to think they’re trying to poison Wanda against you. 

“What? We’re just trying to help the two of you bond, being some couple and all…” Bucky hums with a shrug, blue eyes darting between you and Wanda curiously. 

“We’re not–” You bite the words that become overthrown when Sam’s hand slaps your arm. 

“Besides, it’d make an interesting story for the kids.” 

They walk now, passing on either side of you like the haunting walls of a tunnel that locks you into that place where your nightmare meets you halfway, blurring it all together. 

‘Fuck, I hate this place!’

You take one look at the wanted poster, eyes shadowed heavily by the furrow in your brows. That’s when an idea springs to mind. Your crazy and fucked up mind… with a crazy and perhaps fucked up idea. 

“Yo, you coming or what?” Sam hollers out to you and you visibly stumble back a couple of steps, shaking your head of whatever came over you there. A sense of sinking finds itself in your stomach again. 

“Come on, the depot is up this way.”

You briskly walk past all three members of your company, blatantly you avoid looking in Wanda’s eye, simply pushing her forward again, as gently yet urgently as you can muster. 

At the end of the street and another few corners and you were where you needed to be. Behind the tall chain link fencing, the yard is crawling with security as expected, watching over the compound’s goods waiting to be loaded into the trucks waiting in the docking bays. Thankfully, the guards pay no mind to you, as if you don’t exist to them. Ghosts within the smog. 

“So this is it, huh?” Bucky sneers with a visage of judgement. “Doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Because this is one of his ‘private’ storehouses that also happens to be the manufacturing powerhouse of his supplies,” you retort over your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, you need to explain this to me again. You want us to turn you in for the reward money?” Wanda cannot believe what her ears hear. This will now be the fourth time you’ve had to reiterate your proposed plan of getting in. 

“There’s no way they’ll just let us in. And if we sneak in, Vision will most likely flee. We gotta lure him in.”

“By using you as bait,” Wanda clarifies and you nod. She’s shaking her head, now in sheer, utter disbelief. 

“No no, this could actually work.” Sam taps a finger to his chin, the gears in his head turning the wheels of schemes. “But if we’re going to do this, we gotta rough you up a little bit. Make it look like we’ve dragged you into the joint.”

Your brows arch in a way that expresses your confusion. “What exactly are you–” 

Given no more time to question him, Sam strikes his arm forward into a left hook, and shit, did he go all in for it. The adrenaline in your blood pumps but not before the initial sting of the surprise attack hits you first. Wanda makes a noise between a gasp and a horrified shriek, her hands cup over her nose and mouth to muffle the sound. 

“The fuck!” you spit harshly, biting back on the urge to shift right there and then. Sam had distracted you with his left and now he swiftly drives his right fist into your gut, forcing your back to the brick wall of the building next to you. 

“Sh-shit, okay… n-now I get it…” Sam only nods with a shit eating grin and you’re convinced he’s enjoying this, soaking it in and will most likely brag about it to Tony and the rest of them. 

“Come on, Buck, let’s rough them up.” Bucky didn’t need anything else to motivate him to join in, he steps around Wanda and at Sam’s side, he also drives a hard hitting punch into your stomach that causes you to keen forward with a groan. 

Your head hangs forward and Sam brings his right knee up and butts your nose, splitting it. You grimace with a pained wince to keep a temperamental roar at bay.

Yeah, they’re fucking enjoying this. 

You’re not even close to recovering, swaying on your two feet as a hand nurses the space between the bottom of your ribcage and stomach, you lift your head only for Sam to land a knock to the corner of your brow, temple buzzing a little. That’s when Bucky comes in with an upward strike, your lip busted in the fray of his blow. 

You can only growl and grunt, having to further suppress the wolf below the surface so it doesn’t come back with an attack of its own. 

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at the three of you. After a few more hits to sell the act, Bucky pulls his handgun free of its holster, racks the slide and puts it to your bruised temple. 

“Adding a little bit of realism to the play. If we walk in and they’re not a little bit bruised up, then they’ll know something’s up,” reasons Sam with a glance to Wanda who shrugs, that scowl of her disapproval showing in all its glory. 

The cute way her nose scrunches a little. Fuck, you can’t help but grin yourself with a breezy, husky chuckle, eyes sly as they look Wanda up and down. It must be the rush of adrenaline and pain that’s gotten you a little riled up.

“We have to make it believable,” you drawl, voice hinted with a lacing of sarcasm, but Wanda cannot help the way it stirs her core; nickname and all. Those eyes you’re giving her are doing things that make her cheeks become dusted with a pink hue. 

Wanda shakes her head and she crosses her arms, firm in her resolve that getting the shit beaten out of you is a little more than crazy, in fact, she thinks it’s completely psychotic. No less, you weren’t given a fair warning in the beginning and now here you are, it’s like you’re getting off on being brutally beaten. 

For you, it gave you a weird sense of reprieve. It took you away from the usual routine of pain and replaced it with something new - fresh - and it made you feel alive. 

Much like when you shared a few passionate sessions of expressive want with Wanda. That kindling of being alive after wandering around, licking your wounds, feeling dead in a way to the world.

“I-I don’t think that was called for,” Wanda utters once her bottom lip is safely hidden beneath the fur of her collar. She’s shielding herself, her embarrassment and you can’t help the way the wolf becomes intrigued, head tilting to the side with that shimmer of amber passing over your eyes. 

“If it gets us closer to Vision, then it’s worth every punch. Now come on, you looker, let’s hand you over to ‘em,” Bucky grins with a dark chuckle.

Your hand moves up to cradle your jaw, the scent of blood wafts into your nose and coats your tongue, Wanda’s heels clap against the pavement as she walks up to you. Her hand brushes along your hand and replaces it. She’s observing your face, a soft and troubled frown does little to hide the true concern from her orbs, ever so delicately glazed with a watery coat. 

“I hated that,” she drawls with a strong and lowered lilt of her Sokovian accent. You can only find it within yourself to flash her a smirk. 

“I don’t think this is the right plan. What if they actually take you away? Y/N, I don’t have any clue as to what’s going on here, but it just sounds like a terrible idea.” 

“Wanda, you just have to trust me.”

There’s hesitation in her eyes, you can see it, conflicting with her want to trust in you, but how exactly could she just go along with this plan? She never saw it at the time, but now she knows Vision is a dangerous man, and whatever history you have with him makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. Who knows what you’re all walking into.

Still, she bows her head in agreement and you both tail after Bucky and Sam who weren’t too far up the way. “Are we ready?” Sam asks while Bucky repositions his gun at level with your head. 

“Ready,” you reply and Wanda mumbles her own answer. With a roll of your shoulders, breathe in and out, adjusting yourself before you enter the lion’s den and then you let Sam and Bucky direct you inside as Wanda tucks herself to Bucky’s other side, a little distant from him. 

“Hey, what’re you doing here? This is private property, you need to leave.” One of the guards stationed at the front gate of the depot approaches, gun in hand as he stares your group down, a few of his fellow guards also take a wary stance in your arrival. 

Bucky cocks his gun against your jaw, tilting it up to showcase to the guard.

“We saw your wanted pet. Now we’re here to collect.” 

The guard’s firm and sceptical gaze moved between the three before they settle on you, squinting in a moment of faint remembrance, out of knowledge by seeing your poster or because he was maybe one of the guards who worked here and remembers you by face, he gruffly huffs with a cock of his head. 

“Yeah, bring it in. Take the stairs down when you get in and head through, the guard there will let you pass.”

The sound of a buzzer sounds off and it shakes your brain like nails on a chalkboard. The chain link fence rattles to life and slides open, the guard above loom as dark shadows from the white blaring lights behind them. 

With a small mock salute, Sam passes the guard, following closely at his side now is Wanda and Bucky nudges you forward. You have to hand it to them, they know how to get an in. You distinctly remember seeing them bring in numerous prisoners and deadbeats who refused to pay up. 

The guard wrinkles his nose at you and with a gurgle in his throat, spits at your feet. You almost break character with a laugh, dark and sinister before you imagine tearing him open until he’s nothing but bite sized chunks for the local street dogs. 

The guard unlocks the door with a keycard and pin, the metal door hisses as it swings open. Entering the building and ignoring the way your stomach knots up, the pungent smell of iron, fuel and a hint the residue of the facility’s drugs suffocates your lungs and blocks your nose from smelling anything else, anyone’s scent. 

You take the immediate stairs to your right, the hallway ahead blocked off, reserved as the onsight dormitory for security. Down into the depths of the factory, you walk the narrow walkway in the otherwise spacious room, rooms to both your left and right sealed off into smaller cubical styled holdings, protected under padlock and doors fashioned from old cages. 

Old cages big enough to house something like you.

Another door is opened by the occupying guard watching over the room. He shares the same scornful look the first guard at the gate did, however, you pick out his features and identify him as one of the unlucky men who was caught in the crossfire. The side of his head closest to you and his jaw is mangled and flesh wrinkled, all down his neck before his vest and shirt cuts off the rest of the damage inflicted.

Again, you almost break character, but not because some guard had the audacity to disrespect your boot. No, it’s because of the memories in the lab you now stand in. It took Bucky a hard shove when he noticed your hesitance to cross the threshold. His need to remind you of the loaded barrel pinned to your jaw forces you to brave the nightmare before you. 

The adrenaline, that smugness you airily carried. All gone. Your lungs give way to a shaken inhale and your eyes take in your surroundings of the lab. 

It’s been a while since last you saw of the place, and nothing much has changed. No less the man in charge. Seeing him now, it really is a packing punch to the gut, your insides violently churn with a sickening swell of bile. This is an encounter you’d wish would never come to pass but here you are now, all to find out where Rumlow is. You had to stiff upper lip and face the broken record you left behind you. 

But seeing him only makes this harder. Dressed down into a white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he stands with his back to you, leaning his weight to one side. 

“Yo, heard you were looking for a lost pet?” Sam hollers, garnering the man’s attention.

He turns to leer at you four, blue eyes cold and malicious, pupils shrunken in the way of a madman and hair haphazardly sweeps past his ear, shrouding half his face in shadow. Lines form on the outskirts of his cheeks with a deranged smirk. 

“Ah. You found it,” he hisses in glee, “I must thank you sincerely for this delivery.”

You’re brought forward at the nudging of Bucky and now you stand under the scrutiny of Vision himself. A man-made monster by his own devices. His upper body contorts to lean forward slightly, head tilting heavily on its axle to gauge your expression, to probe at your mind, just as he had done so many other times. 

Furthermore, it does little to boost your self-esteem when he whistles and snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Are you in there, dog?”

You swallow without response. With a snort of amusement, he’s satisfied by the compliance of your silence; your defeated resolve to fight back - though he does enjoy a good show from time to time. To see the rage burn in your eyes like a fearsome storm of fire. One that swears to devour him in the flames of your wrath once you broke free of your shackles. A storm that never came to pass until that fateful night, but a storm that didn’t sweep him away into ash. 

He directs his attention to someone else and only then does your upper lip curl into a snarl, a feral sound of an animal under threat, or in this case, Wanda being under threat, Vision sneers at your attempt to intimidate him. 

“Always one with a temper,” he sighs as if reminiscing on those memories, like they were days of happier times. Perhaps they were to him.

“Wanda, it’s good to see you again after all this time.” He pulls her hand up to grace her gloved knuckles with his lips, the eyes of a predator drinking in the sight of her discomfort. 

“Vision.” Her tone of voice is cold. Strict and aimed sharply as a dagger to penetrate the fortitude of his unwanted advances. Vision was never one to take a hint. Much like Wanda’s lack of knowledge of you, you were left in the dark in regards to her relation to Vision.

Now you see it. They at some point in the past shared some form of intimate connection. One that she inevitably regrets with every fibre of her being that uses her body to shield herself. She all but rips her hand from his grip, her other hand subconsciously wipes at her knuckles. Vision quirks a dirty blonde brow up in the face of her denying act towards his given affections. 

To ease the infectious growth of humiliation on his part, he shoves his shoulders back and cocks his head. “Come, you must be paid for a job well done.” 

He directs two guards, two of your own kind, rendered obedient to his command, to lead you away from Wanda, Sam and Bucky. She’s mortified once your presence is eliminated from the group, leaving the three of them alone with Vision. 

Bucky and Sam are quick to catch the wary glare you cast their way, a low threat to not abandon you there, to not let this play act go too far; the last thing you want to do is fall back into that pattern. To have Wanda be subjected to just a taste of what ordeals and trials you had to endure. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother. He had a bright future ahead of him.” Vision’s condolences die on the tip[ of his tongue, turning into ash that rots away any ounce of sincerity for her loss. She cannot bring herself to respond verbally. 

Wanda is moreso driven apart from you by Vision, his hand a little too close to lingering too low on her back, the sight of it forces a growl from between your clenched teeth, the two guards overseeing you snarl in your direction. 

Obedient pets to him, twisted into a falsehood of loyalty. Wolves corrupted by the unfortunate dealings of their upbringing. Much like the ones in the fighting ring, like you, they don’t lead their own lives. They do as they’re told. They obey.

Following where the drug overlord ventures, he leads the three of them over to a far table in the corner, procuring a black suitcase. He hands it to Bucky. 

“There we are, 100,000 Madripoor Dollars.”

Your eyes glance from the shackles to Sam and Bucky with narrowed eyes. Silently, through eye contact alone, you’re telling them to hurry the fuck up and spring into action, to get the situation under their control before things take a turn for the worst. 

“Now, if you’ll be on your way, gentlemen–”

“We’d like to have the money recounted. Just in case, you know. Wouldn’t want the boss to feel cheaped out of our work,” Bucky snips suddenly before Vision could turn them away. He also notices the way Vision leers at Wanda like a salivating beast, no doubt he’d try to keep her with him as he practically booted them out the front gate. 

This comes as a hindering surprise to the man, blue eyes glassed over with something void of any true human emotion. 

With a nod of his head, he beckons over one of his assistants, and the summoned woman takes the case from Bucky to ensure the promised amount is all accounted for. 

“What’s your whole deal with the mutt? Why pay such a hefty price for ‘em?” Sam questions, tilting his head in your direction. If they were here to divulge information about Rumlow, he wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into.

Vision turns to follow where the man was looking and a dark smirk crosses his lips. Your eyes glow with the animal’s boiling rage, a formidable sight to behold and marvel at. He’s missed having you as his lab pet. 

At first, Vision is reluctant to share his thoughts, however, something that is unreadable to your observant gaze, his smirk turns into a wide grin that causes Wanda’s complexion to pale. 

“The Asset is among the very first of its kind to achieve such accomplishments. Paving the way for its kind. An investment with so much poured into it,” answers Vision. 

“Would you like to see what my work entails?” His own question, laced in deranged malice, is met by three unsure visages. 

‘What the actual fuck are they doing?’

Without so much as a word, Vision is herding them off behind a large control panel, screens displaying all sorts of data and diagrams of humanoid and werewolf anatomy. “As I am sure, you know I was partnered with Alexander Pierce for his little project.”

“Was?” Sam sneers in confusion. 

Vision nods slowly. “Yes. After… numerous trials ending in failure, Pierce cast me aside. Told me that my work wasn’t good enough, that for all my progress with the serum, the desired goal wasn’t meeting his expectations.” He pauses to calm the venom behind his words. His eyes glare at the screens before they rise to meet your harrowing stare.

“Prepare it for trial exposure to serum SX-P,” he commands his workers, lithe fingers jabbing expertly against the keyboard. 

“So why exactly did Pierce get rid of you?” Bucky asks now and Vision takes a moment to cease his actions and turn to look at him. 

“Alexander’s campaign was relatively new and industrial to begin with. At first, potential investors weren’t convinced that werewolves could be rendered ‘tame’ to serve as liable enforcers and guards. There was a lack of trust in his project—” Vision began before needing to pause, the sound of your irritated growls bouncing off the four walls of the expansive lab as you’re led by the guards.

They shove you down to sit on the horizontal, metallic surface that centre’s the room. But you’re not going to make it easy for them, play acting or not. You thrust an elbow back, colliding into one of the two guards who stumbles back with a pained howl, hand nursing their broken nose that weeps with blood, the other guard retaliates with the butt of his gun. Your head lurches to the side, further damage to your already busted lips runs down the side of your chin. 

His partner comes around for round two, fist raised high to land a blow to your contorted snarl, but Vision reels him back in with a single command. “Enough! I need it in as good condition as I can get it.”

He glares at one of the nerve wracked doctors. “And put the muzzle on the damn thing!” 

The guards pin you down against the table and restrain your wrists and ankles in the shackles bolted down into the table. 

Wanda is beyond the conceivable thoughts, utterly repulsed by this dark crater she must know festers in the world. That this treatment is inflicted upon you - and perhaps countless others - she looks to Sam and Bucky. Both of them mirror each other’s stoic expressions and tightly clenched jaws.

“We have to do something,” she whispers just enough for Sam to make out. 

“As I was saying.” Rattling his throat of any vocal hindrance, he combs his dishevelled hair back. “It was vital to raise an exemplar to the species, to garner investment support. Thus, the animal before us contributed to that. But when the investors learnt that we didn’t have enough stable minded werewolves, it was cause of another concern. Given my expertise, Alexander then came to me… and I tried. I really did. But each trial failed, each match was torn to shreds.”

Your eyes meet Wanda’s, the tearful glaze that wavers beneath the fluorescent lights, your troubled brows only deepen into a scowl when a doctor procures a muzzle. It’s not familiar like the leather and metal barred one Vision often used for you, this one was crafted for a nefarious purpose. The guards tug your head back to keep you from engaging the doctor, their hands work swiftly in snapping the contraption around your mouth and the base of your neck.

That is when you’ve had enough of this charade. This is when you decided here and now that Vision will pay for all those years of fucking around with you, tormenting you, provoking you without giving you the chance to rectify the errors of his arrogant ways. 

The moment that muzzle went over your face is when the game field changed. Your muscles strain and flex, body violently convulsing in your struggle to break free, your claws growing longer and clawing divots into the metal beneath your palms. 

Alarms and panic ensues. It all moves in a tight framework of blurriness. Rage has blinded you to this point. 

Wanda’s screams echo over the fog of your hazed and crazed mind, layering over into a morphing choir, other voices are muffled. All you can recognise are the two forms of something similar to your own towering one, their ears pin back and their snouts curl up to bare their teeth.

In a matter of seconds you're tangled between the two wolves, clawing and maining at their flesh until blood paints the polished floors, a racket of gunfire disturbs your ears. The nape of one of the guards is in the clutches of your jaw, you twist harshly and snape the elongated bone of their spine. 

The second pushes you hard, bearing down on you with clawing fists and gnashing fangs that tear into the flesh and muscle of your shoulder and upper arms.

More gunfire blinks and sprays into your vision, white spots in the heat of your vision. Your hind legs arch up and kick the second guard off of you, their body flying back into a heap of equipment that combusts into a show of sparks upon impact. Workers flee in all different directions, more guards from the outside flock into the lab in a blaze of bullets. 

Some penetrate through your thick hide and others aren’t so fortunate. Your ears twitch in response to Wanda’s voice, she shrieks your name, your head whips around in the direction to see her behind cover, Sam at her side as he takes shots at the guards. 

“Look out!” 

Her warning comes a second too late. A bullet fires at your shoulder, clean and true; an entry and exit wound. Your eyes momentarily meet Vision’s, a handgun of pristine gold flickering in the distance he kept from you. But your moment to strike is thwarted by the familiar reddish pink now shrouds you in a thick cloud. 

The scent burns your senses and stings your eyes until the word wavers before you, your muscles fried and you’re choking on the smell of each chemical and pheromone in the gas. You roar amidst your stampede, chaos of tossing anything in your path aside. There are screams, pleas for mercy and shouts to shoot to kill; despite the conflicting order of Vision to keep you alive. 

By now, the blaring alarms set off the emergency lighting, the once white lights darkening into a shade of red. Wanda calls your name again and again. You can’t see her through the tinted colour of the gas, your tail sways wildly from side to side, skin growing far too hot for your liking, you yelp in discomfort. Your body slumps against something that clanks together as the world around you spins. You grunt and snort to blow the burning scent from your flaring nostrils to no avail. Another fired bullet and hiss, and then a forceful gust of the same gas sprays directly over your face. Your howl as the agonising sting it causes, irritating your skin and fur, your clawed hands swipe at your face. 

Your lungs feel like they are weighted down like iron anchors with each intake of air. You hear Vision laugh from above and your head snaps upwards, seeing him reign high above in his victory, from his place on the looming platform. 

“But I figured it out, dog. Like all things natural to a wolf, it needed to be exposed just the same.” 

His blue eyes beam wide in their amazement. Their admiration. You rear back as a shattering cry of a roar bellows from deep within your chest. Saliva coats over your gums and teeth and sweat has already begun to seep into your fur. 

Vision gives a gesture of a mock salute before he dashes away, Sam and Bucky far too late and miss any shot they could have landed, the overlord making his escape. 

“We gotta get outta here!”

“Where are we gonna go, Sam? There’s this fucking gas everywhere and—” Bucky cannot exhale another word, set off into a coughing fit. 

“We have to find Y/N!” Wanda shouts to the two men. 

She’s gaining higher ground. Her heels clatter against the metal framework of the platform. “I’I think I see them,” she calls out, head darting left to right, arching to see the dark shape before it sinks away into the reddish mist. 

She continues to search until she is no longer able to. A scream is torn from her lungs when the platform shakes and jolts her forward, hands grasping the railing before she’s thrown over. 

You stalk towards her with each step you take threatening to break the now unsteady frame you both stand upon. The once familiar glow of amber now feels strange to her, like she doesn’t recognise you - shouldn’t recognise you - and yet she says your name all the same. It’s the only thing that’s the middle ground now.

She backs away slowly and you continue forward until you arch forward swiftly, hands snatching hold of her, she struggles in your grasp. “Let me go! Let me go, Y/N!” 

You growl in warning to her, the sound rumbles like booming thunder, she can feel it even through the thick layer of her coat. 

Your nose buries into the crook of her neck, ignoring the way she squirms about in her resistance. 

“We’re coming, Wanda,” Sam’s voice coughs from below, his shoes hitting each step hard with Bucky not far behind, skipping one step to reach you both quicker. 

“Get off her,” warns Bucky with an arm raised, gun aimed at the bevel between your hellish, animalistic eyes. Eyes that he sees no humanity within. 

You raise your head high to snarl at the intruders. There is little to remember or recognise, all that you feel is the need to kill and something more, something that stirs within your core. Your hips move to grind against Wanda, angling them to soothe that growing ache between your thick, powerful legs. 

Wanda whimpers and that’s the last straw either man can take. They open fire and give Wanda the opportune moment to break free of you, she pushes away from you; but not before one of your hands snatch hold of her collar. She falls forward but Sam catches her before she can fall face first against the creaking metal, dragging her further away from you. 

Bucky continues to rain bullet after bullet. The constant bite of the attack eventually deters you and your form moves, crashing through the side window of the lab. Glass bursts in a flurry and all that can be heard by the trio is the baritone howl that fades into the night. 

Bucky pulls his phone from his pocket and lifts it to his ear when the call is received. “Steve, tell Tony we’ve got a loose collar problem.”

“Well, that could’ve gone much smoother. Now we have a sexed up hound on the loose.” Tony presses the glass to his temple with a huff in his low of defeat. Only Steve could have an idea how many drinks he’s had that night and he’s beginning to look a little rough for wear. 

Bucky and Sam were in no top shape either, the two of them nursing their own bruises and scrapes in the fight to escape. They’d done well in keeping Wanda out of harm’s way, but as for them, they paid the price for it. 

The tired sag beneath his hazel orbs. It makes her wonder just how bad this spanner in the machine is, how it affects Tony so. 

Without her coat, Wanda is left only with a sense of unease, the article of clothing lost to the clutches of you; a missing you. She continued to replay earlier events over and over, trying to pick out and decipher each little detail’s meaning. 

Vision obviously had a goal to win back Alexander’s favour. The abandoned project could have been yet another scheme to bring in profit, as Vision clearly made his intentions known. 

He was after profit in the breeding ring. 

“So regale me with the synopsis again: Pierce had Vision create a sex pollen engineered specifically for werewolves to then use on Y/N, however, it failed in the past until now, where you believe Vision has succeeded. That’s what I’m hearing, right?” Tony paces the kitchen now, pupils shrunk and hand quivering in the restraint of his outburst. 

“Basically down to a T, Boss,” confirms Sam with a tilt of his head. Tony runs a hand down his face as he sighs audibly. 

He takes a moment to reabsorb this information, Bucky grunting as he shifts his weight, having taken to laying on the couch. He took a werewolf arm to the stomach that flung him across the lab. In his books, he was deserving of a little rest. 

“So how do we find them?” Steve asks after another moment of periodic silence. That’s when Tony’s eyes slowly float over to Wanda, that flicker of realisation dawning in his eyes, he lifts a hand to point at her. 

“Where’s your coat?”

Wanda is chilled by the way Tony draws attention to this question, its nature a mystery that begins to make her head churn and her stomach flutter; and she isn’t sure in what way exactly. 

“U-uh…” Her eyes dance between Sam and Bucky, uncertain to give her answer, but when Sam nods his head to her, she breathes in deeply. “Y/N took it. They… snatched it off of me, th-they tried to grab me but I slipped out. That was right before they fled.”

“Oh, well then, that solves our little lost dog problem.” The mob boss breathes an air of sarcasm to fan the flames of his words. But it also pulls everyone’s eyes to him, confusion visible in each of their own gazes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda asks and Tony chuckles dryly in response, eyes zeroing in on Wanda’s. 

“It means that we can stay put. They’ll find you.”

Wanda isn’t sure what to make of it. Wandering down the hall to her separate apartment, Tony’s words play over the backdrop of your acts of slaughter, your actions of violence and aggression and primal desire. When you snatched a hold of her coat in the lab, she could sense it, that need to have her beneath you, to ravish her wholly without consequence or regard for anything or anyone’s order.

Having her within your grasp was an exotic experience. She felt the power you possess in its entirety without needing to experience every single level of it. She could just tell it was there. 

 ‘They’ll find you.’ Tony’s words repeat themselves for the millionth time.

All she can think about is you. Where you are, if you’re alright, and how you’re coping with that pollen running in your veins. Tears coat her eyes in a blurred, wavering curtain. What if you got yourself killed?

No. She cannot think like that. She won’t think like that. But can she help it?

Still trapped in her mind with the troublesome thoughts and endless unanswered questions.

It begs one of the questions for her, how Tony can be so sure that you will find her, and how her coat had any relevance to his statement. His warning. 

Soon enough, one cruel thought only breeds another. Vision’s disturbing fascination with his drug trade, with the sex pollen. It just makes sense - all of it - in the city of dark and neon. A criminal’s haven. 

Something in the jumble of her scattered thoughts told her you didn’t consider Madripoor as a haven. What she saw in your eyes back in the lab; a raw and bone chilling expression of fear, she has only left to suspect that you see Madripoor as a prison. 

Her chin wobbles slightly at the thought of you going through years of that hell and torture, to be trapped without anyone there to help you. To save you. 

The city isn’t even an impressive sight to her. It’s poisonous, built on ruin and lies, betrayal and dirty money. What’s worse is that she’s lost you, some part of you, because of this fucking city. This cesspool of despair, destruction and corruption. Werewolves of a varying amount now dwell in those other towering buildings - hell, perhaps even in the same hotel as her - and below in the streets of Hightown. In the slums of Lowtown. And you’re somewhere amongst it all.

All because of those who used and abused you. For profit. 

All Wanda can think at that moment is to just see you. To be near you. All she wants is for this to be over and to go home with you. 

Everything she could ever want, she sees in you. She just wants you.

But Madripoor has taken you from her. Swallowed you up in the festering dark and neon glow. A wolf lost in the haze, with nothing but that desire to want. And maybe, if Tony is at all correct in his fearfully made assumption, you’re a lost wolf with a desirable appetite for her.

It almost feels like some dark, wet fantasy of hers. To believe that the only reason you have her coat now is to track her down. Because you want her. Her skin is plagued by a sudden chill that makes her spine tingle. 

She takes a moment to bring stillness to her negative and lust spiralling thoughts to dry the unspilled tears as she finally arrives at the door of the apartment. Withdrawing her key, she unlocks the door and enters. 

The room is dark, left to remain cold in the vacancy. Or so Wanda thought. Closing the door behind her and pressing her back to it, it takes her a moment to regain her strength and composure before she pushes herself off it; only for her back to all but smack hard against the door again. Her mouth fell agape and eyes widening.

Even in the unlit space of the common area, the neon haze of the opposing buildings floods in through the wide panel windows. But none of them compare to the sharp amber of your eyes hiding amidst the darkness. The lethal regalness of the true born predator that uses this element to their advantage. The common area is a mess, furniture torn to shreds, miscellaneous decorations littering the floor and the walls, canvases to long and jagged claw marks; a lot of them. You’ve practically left no space left safe in the chaos of your outburst. 

And your large form is at the centre of it all.

“Y/N,” she breathes out, breaking the silence between you both. Your eyes flitter up to meet hers from your previous interest point, the accumulated bundle at your large, pawed feet. Blankets, sheets, pillows and anything else in your wolfish mind you deem comfortable to lay on the floor.

Wanda’s eyes move over you. Were you… building a nest?

Your amber eyes burn into her soul, the pit of radiant hellfire focuses on her with primitive hunger. The sight of her against that door makes your core become plagued by shockwaves of agony that disperse downwards, turning pain into an empty void of pleasure that moves downwards, to the aroused mound at the juncture between your powerful, muscular thighs. You could do some very damaging things to her up against that door. 

And there she sees it, her coat clenched tightly in the grasp of your right hand. So Tony had been correct in the end. You used her coat to track her down from wherever you’d escaped to, only to then follow her scent here. 

The heavy pound of your weight on your pawed feet moves closer to her, the article of fox fur discarded to the pile - or what she presumes to be a nest - and she’s soon cornered. 

Muscles ripple beneath fur, the colour of it always a delicate sight Wanda found herself often cherishing. Soft to the touch, well groomed beyond the scars that litter your body, hideous marks that remind you of what you are. But to the hidden scope of Wanda’s own thoughts, you were the closest thing to sculpted perfection; the rough edges providing a ruggedness that many often depicted as ruthless and merciless. 

But she knows that you use those sharp edges to protect her. To protect yourself. 

“Remember me, Y/N. Y-you know who I am, l-look at me–”

Your muzzle wrinkles and you snarl, pink gums lined with long, sharp teeth bare at her in a display of what she perceives as hostility. She’s only begun to slide along the wall and away from the door before one of your larger arms thrusts forward. She yelps in surprise and flinches back, your other arm follows suit of the first, trapping Wanda between you and the wall behind. 

Your maw extends down as a raspy snarl echoes in the back of your throat, the foundations of a monster with not an ounce of humanity left in the soul, her eyes are now coated with a hot layer of tears. “You know me, Y/N, I know you do! Look at me, remember me.”

She can’t even bear the thought to fathom the fates of the other victims. With Vision’s lack of details, it ended up being both a blessing and a curse. Now all she thinks about now is becoming another one of those victims. And how the aftermath would only break you. 

“I remember, Mate.”

Wanda would celebrate in her relief, had it not been for that single word. Mate. Goosebumps form over exposed skin, her breath hitches in her throat and she cannot refrain from the needy moan surpassing her lips when you push your overly large body to hers, bending down low to grind the dangerously aroused location against her. 

“I fucking need you. I need you so badly.”

“I–I…” The words escape her, leaving her to the dizzying of her own growing desire. To be beneath you, to have you ravish her beyond reprieve. 

“One way or another, I’ll have you in that nest, Mate.” 

The lilt of your baritone growl reverberates in the chamber of your ribcage, husky and primal laced. Dominating. Wanda’s mind swims with the endless possibilities, that black sea of fantasies rising up in crashing tidal waves. Her head arches back into the door and leaves her neck bared for you, the long, pink tendril of your tongue laps at the dew of her skin, deliciously sweet and intoxicating, it brings out a pleasurable rumble from you. One that she feels vibrates her alit core. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been repressed, Lamb? All that torture and for what? Only to suffer without release. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Oh, there’s something in the way you blatantly threaten her with a fucking good time. A chill runs up the column of her spine and she mewls, you roughly begin to grind your body into her in your dire need. Suffice to say, you aren’t kidding her when you warned her that you’d have her one way or another. 

“I want to help you now,” she whispers softly. Her hands roll through the texture of your fur, nails scratching at you like a kitten, your shoulders jolt with a rumbling chuckle. You purr lowly, breath hot against her neck, “You know how.”

The razor points of your canines rake over the sensitive spot, right where her mark belongs, and exposed to the point that you could do it; and she would have no chance of fighting it. 

She pants now, whining when the bulge of your mound rubs over her aching pussy, already her lips are sweetened by her juices. 

“I want this. I want you… Mate.”

Her scent is alluring to the point that you think it’s a drug of its own, a dose of it enough to get your blood pumping and your heart pounding, her words only serve to break the last restraints you barely have a hold of. 

The action is swift and drags a gasp from Wanda’s lungs, your right arm scoops her up, resting her ass along your forearm as you hoist her up, in tandem your left hand claws down, slicing her short dress down the middle; leaving her milky skin exposed in her lingerie. 

Your left hand moves her thigh over the curve of your shoulder and with this guidance, she does the same for her other leg, her drooling pussy just below eye level now. Her scent wafts into your senses and you growl, tongue running over the daggered incisors lining your maw. 

“You smell good, Lamb.”

The drawl of your wolfish tone makes Wanda’s eyes roll back, her hips bucking at the pleasuring sensation of your hot, wet tongue licking a long strip upwards, from the edge of her folds to her pulsing clit. All her hands can do is clutch hold of the long, silky locks of fur that are reminiscent of your hair. 

“Sh–shit!” she squeaks with jostled breath, “D-do that again?”

You obey her request with a haughty snort, snout wrinkled into a prideful smirk. The fabric of sheer and opaque of her panties being a perfect blend to pleasure and torture. She’ll want more soon enough, you’re sure of it. Your tongue laps upwards again and she groans quietly with a struggling pant. Her mouth hangs open, and shit, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen then you can happily take a silver bullet to the brain. 

Her body quivers with each stroke of your tongue, wide enough to cover her entire cunt each time, and a little rough to offer that desirable friction she craves, and of course warm to sooth the chill that envelops the rest of her skin. “A–ah! Hah!”

“Feels good, doesn't it, Mate?”

Wanda is pleasure-struck, unable to form a single tangible response by word. All she can do is nod her head frantically, streaks of her brownish hair fall over her visage contorted with delight, a moan bouncing in her throat. “M–mmhm…”

A dark chuckle escapes you and that smirk turns into a wolfish grin. “That’s not all this tongue can do.”

Her brows lift in curiosity and her plump lips fall apart with another moan, her anticipation is short lived by you putting her out of her misery or before she can question you. Your teeth slip between the band of her panties and her skin, revelling in the way her body shivers against you, with a quick snap the fabric is torn apart and gives the perfect view of her dripping cunt. 

Your maw is buried between her legs in an instant, tongue greedy devouring the slickness on her folds, the taste as sweet as honey on your tastebuds, your ears pin back when her fingers ring further towards the roots of your fur. 

“F-fuck, fucking hell, oh shit!” she gasps loudly, “Y/N!”

A hot fan of breath hits her sensitive bud as you part your powerful jaws wide open, you press the thinner tip of your tongue to her entrance, teasing her slickened folds until she’s mewling for you, fingers clenching your fur harder. 

“Please… please,” she begs, doing her best to angle her weeping core for your leisure whilst keeping her thighs balanced on the broadness of your shoulders. 

“Show me what else it can do.”

With a pleased huff with her begging, you angle your tongue and push forward. With each impending inch that sinks further between her southern lips, she whines softly - dare you say it - she’s howling tenderly in her reverie of euphoria. 

With each surpassing inch she realises that your tongue alone is as thick as a well endowed man. And it only seems to keep going and her hips wriggle, lips trembling until her teeth sink into her bottom lip to keep her screams at bay lest the entirety of Madripoor hears what its finest werewolf does to defile her. 

You grunt when you’ve filled her with all that you can with the pink and hot, muscular organ. Breaths heavy and heated, each wave hits Wanda’s clit and brings a delightful spring to coil in her abdomen and her pussy to clench around you. 

Her back arches slightly in sync with the first thrust, the wet muscle powerful enough to make her gently bounce upwards, a breathless wisp of air is pressed from her lungs forcefully. 

“Oooh, oh yes, j-just like that.”

You repeat the motion again and her legs squeeze closer around your large head. Her nails dig into the nape of your neck. Your arm that doesn’t support the weight of her lower body comes up and your clawed hand supports the back of her own neck, her head lazily drops back, eyes rolling into the back of her skull as her lips close shut. 

Her hips roll into the next thrust, meeting your wet muscle halfway, and the way she moans makes you groan. 

So your pace quickens and becomes rougher, her body bounces with each forceful stroke, continuing to roll her hips in tandem, following the set rhythm with a chorus of wistful moans and teetering howls of her own. 

You’re enraptured by the sight of her. The heiress at your beck and call now, drawing closer to her starlit climax. She feels it, deep inside, like rubber bands coming together and twisting in wait for the inevitable snap. 

She chants your name, a one word mantra that drives you to the precipice of lustful insanity.

Her tight walls only tighten with each push and pull of your long tongue, dragging against the current that seeks to pull you in forever with no chance to grant escape. More of her aroused juices get you drunk in your haze and your greed becomes damn near insatiable as you drink every drop you’re granted. The few stray drops of her sweetness only roll down the flexing front of your torso. 

“I-I’m close.” She breathes deeply through her nose, eyes squeezed shut as her fingers claw the absolute shit out of your silky fur. All these things mixed together in a delicious combination makes you growl, and that sound shoots through your cunt-fucking tongue, and brings her walls to clamp around it hard. Her body is wrecked by the crash of her orgasm, coating your tongue with a mouth watering amount of her release, you groan at the taste. 

Your tongue works at slowing down, stoking the fire to cool down, her breasts push and strain against the thin fabric of her lingerie, nipples stiff beneath the sheer’s opacity. With a husky grunt you pull the slick drenched muscle with a moistened pop, Wanda’s body reacts with a flinching motion.

Fuck, how you enjoy having her like this. Before now, you’ve held back, refused to carry on any further out of fear that it would be too much for her. Now seeing her, drunk on your mere tongue and her quietly pleading more of you, you think she can handle it. 

When Wanda manages to recover enough of herself that her eyes open to look at you. She isn’t sure if she should be aroused or terrified by the expression on your canid visage. Your lips lift over the line of your gums, stretching to a smirk. 

You drop the courtesy support you offered her, the only thing keeping her suspended at your eye level is the large form of your single hand, circling around the slender build of her waist. Her body is still recovering from her orgasm, lazily but trying, she supports in holding herself from falling back.

In this moment, she’s at the mercy of an eight and a half foot animal doped up on sex pollen. She’s at the mercy of you. 

“Now, let me show you how a werewolf really fucks.”

COMING SOON...

— MALE VARIANT — FEMALE VARIANT — ACT IV

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict

#the dark demeter writing catalogue #treehouse taglist #werewolf reader #female reader #male reader #gn reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #mafia au #angst #x reader #mob au #wanda x werewolf reader #wanda maximoff #werewolf #sex pollen #monster fucking #wanda x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #werewolf smut

[nekoannie-chan]

Next door

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

Word count: 770 words.

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

Warnings: Steve is dead.

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

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanieie

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

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

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

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no way you could forget him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure, give me a minute."

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

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

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

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

"Y/N? Is everything all right? "

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

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

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

"I’m sorry what happened to him."

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

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

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

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

#summary challenge #brock rumlow x reader

[e-dubbc11]

Stripped

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

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, male strip club shenanigans, lots of fun, fluff, and humor

Word Count: 4.1K-ish (who knew I had this much to say about Stripper! Rumlow 🤣😉)

Summary: Brock and Reader are in an established relationship. He’s been leaving to go to “work” at night and Reader seems to think he’s keeping something from her. Reader goes out with her friends for a friend’s birthday celebration and gets a surprise of her own.

A/N: Based on a conversation between me and my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass She always has wonderful ideas and this one was a lot of fun. Lily and I bounced dialogue off of each other that I did put in towards the end of this fic. I also made a playlist to go along with this and I’ll link that at the end. Real life Ginger @gijos helped me with a few details for this one too. I hope you like it! 🩵

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

“Didn’t you work already today, Brock?” You asked, looking up from your book.

Your boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, looked down at you with his whiskey colored eyes and nervously replied, “I did, doll. But this just came up and I’ll get paid extra for it so I have to go.”

The nervous tone to his voice told you he wasn’t exactly telling you the whole truth.

“Are you sure that’s all it is, baby?” You asked, softly.

He cocked his head slightly and gave you a half smile.

“Of course it is, sweetheart.” He replied.

Brock leaned down to kiss you on the forehead and with his work bag slung over his shoulder, he headed for the front door.

“It won’t take too long, I promise.” He said. Brock’s voice sounded tired and extra raspy after the long day he already had.

He had been doing these late night jobs for awhile now, but it just sounded like they weren’t the normal type of work he did for SHIELD. You had no reason not to trust him, he always came home when he said he would, and never broke his promises.

Later that night

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body when he spooned up behind you, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed your bare shoulder. The combination of his natural scent was mixed with something unfamiliar, cologne, perfume, or maybe both? But you ignored it and drifted back to sleep.

You were just happy he was home safe with you.

**********

The next morning, the aroma of coffee wafted past your nose as you rolled over in bed. The space next to you was cold where Brock had been sleeping, and you wondered how long he had been awake for.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Brock said with a warm smile as you slowly walked into the kitchen.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you asked him, “You must have gotten home pretty late, huh?”

The smile disappeared from his face. He could tell that you were a little upset.

“Yeah, I tried not to wake you, doll. I thought I was being quiet and I’m sorry if I woke you, baby. I really did try not to.” Said Brock.

The look on his face and the tone of his voice told you he felt bad for getting home late and disturbing your sleep but you decided it would be best if you just let it go. Brock felt bad enough without you giving him a bunch of shit for working late. He did apologize for it.

“It’s ok, baby.” You said with a slight smile. “May I have some coffee, please?”

As Brock poured coffee into your favorite mug, you reminded him that you were going out tonight with your friends for a birthday celebration. It was your friend Shannon’s birthday and she decided that she wanted to go see some strippers.

“What?” Brock asked as his lips pulled into a straight line and his voice dipped a little lower, the rasp a little more prominent.

“Yeah…you know it’s not really my thing but that’s what she wanted to do. She’s the birthday girl. You should see her, she bought a sash and everything.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock didn’t seem amused at all. He ran his thick fingers through his dark brown hair and hesitated before asking you, “Well, uh, which…which one, I mean, yeah so which club are you going to?”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you raised your eyebrows and shrugged.

“I dunno. I think Shannon said it was a place that’s a little ‘classier’ than the usual ‘bingo hall’ type male strip clubs. These are her words, not mine, baby. I think they’re all a little sleazy.” You said.

“S-so you really don’t know which one you’re going to?” Brock asked again, scratching his head.

You vigorously shook your head back and forth.

The scowl on his face returned as he slowly stroked his beard, his hair still messy from sleep and he pondered carefully on what to say next.

Brock was gazing down at the floor when you tilted his chin up so his eyes were focused on yours.

“What’s the matter, handsome? Do you not want me to go?” You asked, shyly.

He responded quickly.

“No, I mean…of course I want you to go. It’s your friend’s birthday and I would never tell you that you couldn’t do something, you know that. I have to work again tonight anyway.” Said Brock.

“Must be important if they need you on a Saturday night.” You said.

Brock nodded.

Neither one of you had any plans for the day until later so you suggested going out to lunch. He agreed and the two of you had a nice afternoon together.

**********

Brock called out to you from the kitchen before leaving for work.

“Hey doll?!! I’m leavin’ in a minute.”

You had just finished getting dressed. Taking him completely by surprise, you ran into the kitchen, leaped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips.

He set you back down onto the floor with his hands still wrapped tightly around your waist. Deepening the kiss, his tongue gently pressed against your teeth, begging for access to your mouth. Parting your lips, your tongue tangled with his while he gently brushed his fingers against your lace shirt.

As he rubbed the fabric in between his thick fingers, Brock glanced down at your outfit and pulled away slightly.

“What are you wearin’?” He asked.

You glanced down at your outfit, a sleeveless black lace shirt, tight jeans, and black over-the-knee boots. Turning around in a circle so he could get a better look (and see what he was going to be missing), you gazed up at him through your long dark lashes and replied, “What? You don’t like it?”

You were taunting him but only a little. Brock didn’t really react well to being teased but he tolerated it from you. He kissed the tip of your nose and answered, “Of course I like it, sweetheart. As I’m sure every other man will too when they get a look at ya.”

You rolled your eyes. Brock could be slightly possessive and intimidating but for the most part he would just use his bark and not his bite.

“Baby, it’s not MY birthday. Besides, you know I like to look nice when I go out.” You said.

He looked you over from head to toe.

“Uh huh. You look a little TOO nice, y/n.” Said Brock. “What time are you leaving?”

Glancing at the time on the stove, you replied, “I dunno, an hour or so.”

Brock looked at his watch and said, “Alright, well I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok baby, well you be careful. I love you.” You said, with a sly smile and a wrinkle in your nose.

He loved how playful you were and when you were, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Have fun, beautiful. Not TOO much fun, huh? I love you too.” He said.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, waved and walked out. You heard the bike start up and drive away. He usually didn’t get that worked up over you going out and you wondered why it bothered him so much, but then again you were going to watch male strippers.

Maybe he had a point, you knew how you would feel if female strippers were to grind up against him. It was just a reminder to make sure that the only one receiving any attention tonight, would be the birthday girl.

**********

“Uh, I didn’t think we’d be sitting this close.” You said looking at the stage directly in front of you.

“Yeah…it’s great, isn’t it?!!” Shannon exclaimed.

She was very excited so you just smiled a wide smile and gave her the thumbs up. You were happy because she was happy but you really hoped it wasn’t a curse being so close to the stage. You didn’t want to be singled out or pulled up onto the stage.

Everyone sat down, you turned to another friend that came along, Camilla, and asked, “Uh, s-so do they strip all the way down to, umm, a g-string orrrrr…?”

Camilla laughed and asked, “You’ve really never been to something like this before?”

Looking around, you shook your head nervously.

“Some of them do but a lot of them just strip down to their boxer briefs.” She said.

Still, extremely nervous, you replied, “Oh ok.”

She grabbed a hold of your arm and said, “Relax! We’re here to have fun! Tell that hottie over there to bring you a drink!”

That made you laugh, and you covered your eyes in embarrassment. She was right, you were there to have fun so you motioned for the very handsome shirtless server in a bowtie to come over so you could order a drink.

Even though you’ve never been to anything like this before, it didn’t mean that you were going to show up unprepared.

“Holy shit, y/n!!” Exclaimed Shannon. “How many ones did you bring?” She asked.

You glanced down at the wad of cash in your hand and replied, “Well, there’s a hundred here. Do you think I need more?” You asked in a semi-serious tone.

Everyone just laughed. Camilla touched your shoulder and with a wide smile stretched across her face, she sarcastically replied, “I dunno. You might wanna hit up that ATM at the front of the club.”

With your lips firmly pressed together, you glared at her before replying, “Very funny.”

**********

As the lights dimmed, a spotlight shone on the microphone that was placed in the center of the stage. A chiseled man in a leather vest and cowboy hat walked out as all the people in the audience, most of them women, started to clap and shriek uncontrollably.

Rolling your eyes slightly, you watched as the emcee took the mic and your friends collectively lost their minds over the cowboy in the black leather vest, while the song Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy played in the background.

He tried to calm the crowd but they just screeched even louder. When he did finally get everyone to settle down, he spoke.

“Are you animals ready to have some fun tonight?!!” The cowboy asked with a wide devilish grin.

The audience squealed, hollered and whistled in response. Looking around, you noticed everyone was clapping and very eager for the show to start. The drink you ordered was almost gone and it seemed to be doing its job to help you loosen up a little so you ordered another.

“I see we have some birthday girls in here tonight! Start getting excited because we have something fun planned for you. Alright…up first is a walking cliché but hey, it works. He’s a firefighter by day but also turns the hose on at night, if ya know what I mean. Please welcome ‘Blaze’ to the stage.”

The stage went dark, the music started and the spotlight reappeared. At first you noticed the boots, the dark pants with yellow stripes at the bottom, and the hat. He wasn’t wearing a shirt but he had suspenders on.

Under the lights, his near perfect body glistened under the bright lights and your jaw dropped. With the song Sex on Fire playing, Blaze took in the crowd’s energy and then took their dollar bills.

Removing one suspender strap and then the other, he was completely bare chested now dancing around the stage which is when he stopped in front of you. Slapping some dollar bills down in front of him, you felt yourself start to blush but you managed a shy smile anyway.

He removed his fireman’s helmet, winked, and placed it on top of your head. He danced away to the other side of the stage to finish removing his pants, revealing the short red boxer briefs with flames on them that he had on underneath.

Well that was fun.

“You’d never know that it’s your first time at a place like this!” Said Shannon with an excited smile. “You fit right in, sweetie!”

As the night progressed, you watched all the birthday girls get pulled up on stage and all of the “Magic Mikes” made their night by giving them each their own private dance. Shannon and the others looked like they were having a great time. Also, you and your other friends were having a blast, laughing and tossing dollar bills on stage.

The chiseled cowboy reemerged from backstage to take the mic again.

“Alright birthday girls, I hope you enjoyed your surprises. Now…we’re gonna rock out for this next guy. He has a day job but refuses to tell me what it is, says it’s ‘classified information’ which I take to mean that he’s a spy of some sort. What do you guys think, huh?” He asked.

Everyone started clapping and screaming, preparing themselves for the next dancer. Still wearing the fireman’s helmet, you checked to see how many dollar bills you had left. “That last group of guys were a little expensive,” you thought to yourself as you bit back a smile.

Camilla leaned over and asked you, “So…what do you think is comin’ out here next?”

You pondered for a minute before answering her.

Finally, you replied, “Well, let’s see…we’ve seen a firefighter, M.C. Hammer the construction worker, Captain Breaststroke, the swimmer that stripped down to his Speedo, guy in a three-piece suit, and a bunch of ‘Magic Mikes’…maybe the rest of the Village People are comin’ out next?!”

You started laughing which made Camilla laugh.

“Do you guys do this a lot? Ya know when I’m not around?” You asked the group. “I will admit it is fun but also REALLY cheesy.”

Woody the Cowboy started to talk again.

“Well, it’s a nice night outside but in here it’s about to get dark and stormy. Are you all ready to get…Thunderstruck?” He asked in a breathy whisper into the mic.

As the crowd clapped and screamed in anticipation for the next dancer, you remembered that Thunderstruck is one of Brock’s favorite songs and you hoped he was staying safe at work tonight.

“Ok you crazy animals, get your dollar bills ready and put your hands together for Romeo!” The cowboy said, enthusiastically.

The stage went dark and the cowboy took the mic and the stand with him as he walked off. The lighting linked up with the intro to the song and a silhouette dressed in all black emerged from backstage. His tight black undershirt had a heart in the middle and he wore loose black pants that could be removed quickly.

Flashes of light brightened up the stage for moments at a time then went dark again as the man came closer, moving his hips from side to side. From what you could see, he had dark hair and his toned tan skin glistened under the brief flashes of light.

As he moved closer to the front of the stage, his handsome face came into focus and your jaw dropped to the floor when you saw those amber eyes staring down at you. The music and screams from the crowd were drowned out inside your head. The silence was deafening as your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest, heat rose to your cheeks and your blood burned like wildfire in your veins.

Your friends froze in place when they saw Brock’s face, then turned to look at you seething with anger. Dollar bills were tightly clenched in your fist, the fireman’s hat still on your head when his name escaped your lips, and not in the good way.

“BROCK?!!!!” You yelled as loud as you possibly could.

He didn’t move and was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. Everyone in the audience stopped and became very quiet.

“Oh shit…Ok, I can explain this.” He finally said after a minute of awkward silence.

“The hell are you doin’ here?!!” You shouted.

“My job, baby! I didn’t think you’d be HERE!” He replied.

“Obviously!!” Narrowing your eyes and glaring at him, you replied, “Start talkin’, ‘ROMEO’! Let’s go!”

You turned on your heels and headed for the entrance to the club with Brock hot on your heels while the cowboy came back out and introduced another dancer.

“Sweetheart…wait!” Brock called out after you.

Not even giving him a chance to explain, you just started yelling.

“THIS is what you’ve been doing when you said you had to go back to work?!!” You asked in an angry tone. “Am I not enough for you, Brock? That you need to get attention from every horny woman in town?!!”

Your breathing became very shallow and your heart felt like it was being squeezed as the pain in your chest persisted. If the dollar bills weren’t clutched in your dominant hand, you would have punched him in the face. You were that angry.

“I ain’t doin’ this for the reason you might think, doll. Alright?! I’m doin’ this because—“ Brock paused; he continued to stare at you and remained quiet.

“I’m waiting, Rumlow!” You said, folding your arms protectively across your chest.

“Sweetheart, it’s a little hard to take you seriously while you’re still wearing the fireman’s helmet.” He said with a half-smile.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Brock?!!” You said, pressing a finger into his chest. “Tell me why you’re doing this or I’m going home and throwing all of your shit out onto the lawn!!”

“Alright, alright!! I needed to make some extra cash because I wanted to buy somethin’ for ya, somethin’ you said you’ve always wanted. I had most of the money but I needed the rest of it fast because the guy I was gonna buy it from had someone else that was interested in it too.” He said. “So THIS is the only way I could make it happen.”

Still angry but also now a little confused, you narrowed your eyes and before you could open your mouth, he took your hand in his and led you to the parking lot.

“Brock, where are we going? I’m not done yelling at you yet.” You said.

He turned his head back to look at you.

“Can you close your eyes for me, doll? Please, y/n?” Asked Brock.

You inhaled sharply, still flustered with anger but you humored him and shut your eyes. The two of you continued to walk for a few more seconds when Brock stopped, let go of your hand and moved to stand behind you. The rasp in his voice sent a restless shiver down your spine as he whispered in your ear.

“Ok, sweetheart…open your eyes.” He said.

Slowly, your eyelids rolled back. The dim street light glowed above a beautiful shiny classic teal Ford Bronco. It looked just like the one your grandfather had when you were a child.

He remembered.

When your relationship with Brock was fairly new, he had asked about a favorite childhood memory and you told him about when you were young, your grandfather used to take you and your brother along with a couple of your cousins to get ice cream every Sunday after dinner during your summer vacation.

All of you would pile into his Bronco, roll the windows down, and off you went. You were the oldest and the only girl so you got to ride in the front seat. You loved that truck, and told Brock that you’d love to own one just like the one your grandfather had, someday.

Looks like someday had finally arrived.

Brock remembered that story and how happy that memory was for you. He even remembered what color it was. Your grandfather bought it in teal because it was your grandmother’s favorite color. Well now you felt like a little bit of an asshole but only a little bit because even though he didn’t technically lie to you, Brock didn’t tell you the whole truth but you could understand why he did what he did. You could only imagine the carnage if the roles were reversed, he would take on the entire room if you were on that stage instead of him.

Covering your mouth with your hands, you were rendered speechless.

“Oh Brock…it’s just like the one my Pop Pops had. You remembered.” You said with a hitch in your voice. “I can’t believe you bought me a car.”

“You like it then?” He asked with a sly smile stretched across his lips.

You gave him a warm smile as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I love it, baby. Thank you. I’d hug you right now but you’re all lubed up and greasy.” You said with a slight chuckle.

Brock laughed and replied, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, doll. It’s a little embarrassing but it made me a lot of money pretty quick. And tonight’s my last night anyway. Your Bronco is paid in full.”

“Well I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions…and threatened to throw your stuff out on the lawn.” You said, sheepishly.

He smiled and looked at your hand with the dollar bills in it.

“Wait…how many singles do you have left?” Asked Brock, pointing to your hand.

Fanning out the money in your hand, you counted it out loud.

“Ten…I have ten singles left.” You replied, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

“And how many did you start out with?” He asked.

Tight lipped, you didn’t want to answer his question so you looked away at something on the other side of the lot.

“Y/n…sweetheart…how many did you start out with?” He asked again.

Biting down on your lower lip, you tried to look at him but you couldn’t so with your eyes still averted, you finally replied in barely more than a whisper, “A hundred…”

With raised eyebrows and a shocked look on his face, Brock’s jaw dropped and he replied, “WHAT?! A hundred?!”

“Hey that fireman was REALLY good, VERY flexible, plus he gave me his hat.” You said with a wide smile stretched across your face.

Brock’s lips were tight and through clenched teeth, he said, “I’ll kill him. Ya know when he came backstage, he talked about the hot girl in the front row that he gave his hat to.”

With a devilish smile on your face, you said, “Oh really? Well, why don’t you get back in there, shake it for me, and if I like what I see, you can have my last ten dollars.”

Waving the dollar bills in front of his nose, you gave him a wink before leaning in to gently press your lips to his. Brock’s hands suddenly were wrapped around your waist, he pulled your body flush against his, your lips parted as he pressed his tongue against your teeth wanting to twist and knot with yours. A soft moan escaped your lips while your arms snaked around his neck and his stubble scratched your chin.

“You won’t be mad if I finish my last dance?” Asked Brock.

“Well…I hope it’s not your LAST dance, baby. Would you be interested in performing a private show?” You asked.

“As long as my girl is ok with it.” He said, his voice raspy in your ear.

You kissed him again and replied, “Oh I’m sure she’s ok with it. Now, do you want me to get a pole for the bedroom orrrrrrr?”

“Allllll-right, enough sweetheart. Let’s go back inside.” He said, gently smacking your ass.

You started to crack up.

“Ooh, ooh am I gonna get your thongs mixed up with mine?” You said, trying to keep a straight face.

Frowning slightly, he narrowed his eyes and glared at you.

“Very funny, y/n.” Said Brock, walking ahead of you.

Finally getting your laughter under control, you called out to him to get his attention.

“Brock…” You said, catching up to him.

“Yeah?” Brock replied, turning around to face you.

You pushed yourself up onto your toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“You know I tease you because I love you, right?” You whispered.

Brock kissed the tip of your nose, then replied, “I know, doll. I know. And I love you too.”

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

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @redstarsandnightmares @randomlittleimp

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

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow fanfic #Spotify

[psycheshorror]

“Touch”

pairing: MCU!Brock Rumlow x reader

summary: They say to love your partner in their love language, not yours. Someone in this relationship likes touch more than the other. Hint: it’s not the reader.

authors note: I’ve got a million prompts running through my head but this one jumped out first. Let me know how you feel & any critiques! I love talking to people about my fics.

There were 5 love languages.

Words of Affirmation, quality time, acts of service, gifts, and touch.

Touch has always been something you’ve struggled with. Always the butt of the classic “were you not hugged as a child?” joke because, well, it was mostly true.

Your family wasn’t horrible to you. They were great, in fact, despite all the accidental trauma. They were human. And they were doing their best.

Touch just wasn’t something that happened very often. One time your father hugged you in the middle of a funeral and it took you a solid minute to register what was happening.

By the time you realized it was a hug, you were too late to reciprocate and he was already basically across the room.

Which is why it took you a year to realize that your commander - now boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, had the hots for you.

Lingering touches in the hallways after mission debriefings, resting a large hand on your waist after evading enemy fire, even insisting on patching your hands up after a particularly brutal sparring match - Rollins was losing his mind at your ignorance. Jack decided to spill the beans after he caught Rumlow brushing a thumb across your bottom lip, murmuring a rare praise at your clever tricks when seducing a target, only to be given a very oblivious “Thank you, Sir” (and not a sliver of a sexy tone found at that).

“You’re thicker than a bowl of oatmeal,” Rollins said at your stunned gaze after his scolding for ignoring Rumlow’s advances. “And although I’m sure Rumlow would be talking about your body, I want to clarify that I’m talking about that thick ass skull of yours,” he hastily added.

“Please put us all out of our misery and fuck him already,” he said before you could tell him just how absurd that was.

Upon confronting Rumlow, half-expecting him to deny everything, you were suddenly having the daylights kissed out of you and couldn’t help but to wonder if maybe you were into touch after all.

But of course, after being with Brock for over a year now, the novelty was fading away. You found yourselves in a rhythm of work-sex-sleep-repeat and as devastatingly good as the sex was, you couldn’t help but to notice that Rumlow seemed like he was craving more.

His eyes didn’t shimmer like they used to. The curve of his playful smile was harder and harder to come by. There was an underlying feeling of unsatisfaction that you couldn’t quite put your finger on and it absolutely destroyed you.

It was only until you noticed his hand twitching next to yours that you realized it was touch.

Not being a touchy-feely person, Rumlow must have caught on to the fact that in most scenarios, it made you uncomfortable. You hated PDA and downright hated holding hands (and god forbid, embracing), even on date night. You were content watching a movies together all night without a mere brush of a finger.

Hell, even after sex you were perfectly happy rolling over on your side of the bed and snoring the night away without a single cuddle.

A tsunami wave of guilt washed over you. Your love language may not have been touch, but it was clear as day in that moment that Brock - STRIKE commander, expert hand-to-hand combatant/marksman, literal sex on legs - Rumlow, was secretly needing cuddles to thrive.

He just wouldn’t say it out loud. Which is why you’d just do it for him. Well, you’d actually do anything for him. But he didn’t need to know that. He needed to feel it.

After a particularly long mission, you made a point to rub his shoulders, not missing the slight unfurrowing of his brow afterwards. A kiss on his temple before you went out on your morning jog made his eyes shine a little brighter. Weaving your fingers through his in the middle of going grocery shopping made him stand taller, prouder.

A kiss on his neck made him melt. A bite on his lower lip made his dark eyelashes flutter. Tugging on his hair made him a little bit more desperate for you.

Even though you weren’t in love (or really, even in like) with touching or being touched, god damn were you in love with the way it made him feel.

And although he would never admit it, you both loved it when you were the big spoon to your giant, tough-as-nails teddy bear of a partner.

Jack Rollins caught you reaching for Rumlow’s hand after a horribly boring mission debriefing and winked after seeing your horrified, embarrassed expression.

Even though you loved making Brock feel good, that was for his eyes only. When did you turn into a softie? And in public, at that?

“Thank god,” he said, breaking the silence while sauntering past the both of you.

“I thought I was gonna have to babysit you through this entire god damn relationship.”

Immediately flipping him the bird and doubling down by squeezing Brock’s hand tighter, you very eloquently told Rollins to kindly go fuck himself. Chuckling, Brock brought your hand to his lips and you shivered at his stubble tickling your knuckles.

Thank you, the kiss said. He knew you were trying.

You brought your hand away and quickly pecked his lips instead, savoring the happy smile you felt against yours as well as the feeling of his large hands on your waist.

You’re welcome.

#frank grillo #rumlow #rumlow x reader #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow / reader #crossbones #rumlow imagine #brock rumlow fanfiction #brock rumlow x reader #fun fact the story about the dad hugging reader is an actual story from my childhood #lmfao #anyone here also not big on touch? #i feel like too often as a woman i’m judged for not liking physical touch #trying to normalize that #but also trying to normalize making an effort for your male partners #im not fond of touch but i’ll tolerate it for those that i love #if i ever give you a hug just know that means you are special as fuck to me

[blueposthings]

Little Informant (pt. 1)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1.6k+

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

You’ve always lived your life on the edge, having a father who was the STRIKE team’s commander for SHIELD does that to you. You’ve never slept without a gun on your bedside table since you were ten years old. And when your father didn’t return after going on a mission that one night three years ago, you’ve expected and prepared for the worst. However, despite the absence of your father in that fairly long period of time, you’ve always hoped against hope that he will come back one day. He always did, even that time he returned with horrific injuries all over his body that you had to tend everyday for months until it healed.

That’s why you’ve never touched his belongings, you’ve never entered his room, just like he always told you to –claiming that it was for your own safety, the information that you might find in his room might put you in danger –and you knew better than to disobey.

But now that it has hit the third anniversary of his disappearance, you felt like it was the right time to let him go. To let your hope go.

You sat in his room that has gone untouched for the last three years, rummaging through his stuff. That’s when you found his trusty ‘ol laptop. Though a bit inappropriate at the current circumstances, you thought about selling it. You’ve been working four part time jobs to cover your living expenses, and sometimes  that’s not even enough and you were forced to pickpocket from people on the streets to last another day, so it seemed sensible.

But it had to be hidden for a reason, you thought. So you turned it on to check for any top secret files that might fall in to the wrong hands if you sell the laptop just like that.  However, what you found was not something you expected. Instead of files and information on SHIELD, it was HYDRA. Missions upon missions that was labelled “completed”.

The most shocking part? Your father was involved in every single one of them. Whether it be the man in charge or the executioner, his name is always on those files.

And that was not all, you found out that your father, after leaving HYDRA, had formed a team called Hero Mercs. Apparently his last mission was with them, in Lagos, Nigeria. In addition, you also found a list of unfinished missions. At this point you were surprised that World War III was still not happening, for now at least.

After pondering for two sleepless nights, you decided to do the pragmatic thing. You got up from your bed, and pull out your own laptop. Thanks to the fact that your father lived a dangerous life –and therefore so did you, you learnt how to do a thing or two most kids your age were not able to do. That includes hacking in to even the world’s most secured systems, of course you didn’t do it often, usually you only use your skills to hack in to your school’s website to change a few Cs in your report card, but now it seemed like the only thing that would work. And you proceed to hack in to the The Avengers Facility’s main system. You didn’t do much, just made a few changes here and there and you left your message,

“To: Stark. Canal St., Tomorrow 11 PM. THIS IS NOT A THREAT”.

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

To untrained eyes, the glimpses of shadow on top of the buildings are just birds –not Hawkeye, White Wolf, nor Falcon, the man reading the newspapers on the bench is just a regular citizen and definitely not the infamous Steve Rogers, the woman on the parked motorbike is just on her phone –not Black Widow talking to her in-ear.

You sighed to yourself, “I don’t even know why I tried.”

Despite all the uninvited guests, you approached the man leaning on one of the pillars, hiding under his hoodie and cap even though it was near midnight. You tighten your grip on the USB in your jacket pocket and took a deep breath before walking to his line of sight.

“You didn’t seem to understand what I meant when I say ‘not a threat’,” You spoke, announcing your arrival.

The man in front of you crooked his head to the side a little, obviously not expecting to meet a young teenager in this situation. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I think you heard me just fine, Mr. Stark.” You smiled politely.

“That was you?” He voiced.

“I did say it wasn’t a threat,” You exhorted. “You can call off your guard dogs now,”

Tony hesitated for a second before continuing, “Can’t be too careful,”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself then.”

“Why are we here?” He questioned.

You pulled out the USB from your pocket and showed it to him. “For this.”

“And what is that?”

“Something you might want, even if you don’t you should take it anyways.” You noted. “The safety of the world might depend on it.”

“Is that so, huh?” He challenged before taking a closer look at you. “Let me get this straight, a what- twelve year old? Hacked to my building, one of the most secured building in history and says they want to meet, then claim they have a secret for world peace?”

“First off, I’m not twelve.” You began. “Second, that’s not what I said. Listen, I’m trying to be nice and polite here, but you’re making it very hard.”

Tony then appears to be listening to his in-ear before saying, “shut up, Rogers.” Then you saw a shadow approaching from where you had seen Captain America sitting earlier. You watched him walk near with a small smile on his face, and you returned the gesture.

“I’m sorry, kid, it’s just hard to believe that someone your age- or anyone at all, really- can hack in to The Avengers HQ.” He said as he stopped in front of the two of you.

You nodded, “I get that, and trust me, I wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t important.”

Steve then took the USB from your hand. “So what’s this?”

“You ever heard of the Hero Mercs?” You asked, shoving your hands back in to your pocket.

“No.” Tony answered.

“I’ll explain later.” Steve glanced over to his friend before turning back to you, “I have, what about it?”

“That consists of some –if not all of their plans, past and future. Hit list, nuclear codes, locations of bio-hazard materials, the whole nine yards. End of the world, basically.”

“Hold up,” Tony interrupted. “Come again?”

“Hero Mercs, is –was an organization of terrorist and highly skilled mercenary. It was led by Brock Rumlow.” Steve explained to his companion, not noticing how you tensed up at the mention of your late father.

“Brock Rumlow? That name sound familiar.” Tony pondered aloud.

“He was a SHIELD agent, one of the best. But it turns out he was working for HYDRA the whole time.” Steve recalled for the younger.

“Ah,” realization hit his face. “I remember that bastard-”

You cleared your throat, bringing their attention back to you. “That’s what I came here for, to give you that. I’m gonna go now,”

Before you could turn Steve grabbed you by the arm. “How did you find this information?” He interrogated.

“Somewhere,” you shrugged off his grip, “it doesn’t matter where I got it.”

“Of course it matters, kid.” Tony spoke up. “We have to know whether your sources –whether you are reliable or not.”

You sighed and considered your options. There was no point in lying really. “A laptop.”

“Whose?” Steve pushed.

“Brock Rumlow’s,” you muttered.

“And how in the hell did you get your hands on Rumlow’s laptop?” Tony hissed.

Steve gave Tony a side glare before composing himself. “Kid, how did you get Rumlow’s laptop?”

You turned your eyes to the ground for a second before staring the older men in the eye. “He was my father.”

Then it was silent –you swore you heard someone mutter “what the hell?” behind you, sounded like Barnes.

“You serious?” Tony croaked.

“Why would I lie?” You affirmed strongly but you gaze was starting to waver.

“You’re Rumlow’s kid?” Steve inquired, still in a state of shock.

“Yes, I am,” you sighed. “Look if you don’t trust me, I don’t blame you. My father had done a lot of messed up shit in the past, I can’t right his wrong –he’s done too much wrong. I only found out a few days ago, but I just- I don’t know, I guess this is just me trying to prove to myself that I’m not like him. I just want you to take that, whether you actually do something about it or not, that’s your decision. The important thing is I’ve done my part.”

Steve snapped out of his trance as you walked away, he then once again stopped you from doing so by stepping in front of you. You looked up at him and he studied your face. It was just then that he could point out the similarities you and your father have, your eyes, the high bridge of your nose, your sharp jawline. And suddenly he was thrown back to three years ago, when he watched Rumlow get thrown to his death.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath as he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. If I had known I would’ve figured something else out.”

Before you can ask what he meant, he continued.

“I shouldn’t have killed him.” He said quietly, but you heard nevertheless.

Your eyes shot back up to him in surprise before you chuckled a humorless laugh. “That’s new information for me.”

Once again surprise was written on his face, not a second later, it was replaced by guilt and regret. “I’m sorry.” He repeated.

“Me too.” You said quietly. Then you stepped away from him, continuing to walk away.

“You can’t just leave!” You heard Stark call but you didn’t stop.

“He’s right, kid. It’s dangerous out there for you to be alone.” Steve agreed.

“I’ll manage. How do you think I survived the past three years?”

Part 2

#avengers angst #avengers teen reader #avengers fluff #gender neutral reader #avenger!reader platonic #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #steve rogers #tony stark #brock rumlow #male reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Brock Rumlow having a crush on you would include...

Characters: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mention of killing

Request: Brock Rumlow having a crush on you woyld include please ? 💟💟💟

-      You’d probably either live somewhere nearby to where he lives, or you work for Hydra.

-      Either way, Brock would be a regular person in your life.

-      He always says he ‘makes too much’ when it comes to meals and always gives them to you.

-      He always says good morning to you, no matter what.

-      If he doesn’t see you one day, it actually gets worried and gets relieved when he sees you the next day.

-      He’d come off as cold but he quickly goes mushy when you get used to each other’s company.

-      He actually smiles for you.

-      He’s super protective of you, but if someone else tries to stop you from doing something you want to do, he’d support your decision.

-      If one of his men makes any comment about you that puts you below him, then he’s not gonna hesitate to turn around and kill him.

-      He’s a dangerous man, and when he has a crush, he’s a lot more dangerous.

-      You’re totally oblivious to it though, cause when he’s around you, he’s a total sweetheart.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero​ @ariennisimpressed @captain-peanut-at-your-service @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19@imbuckypositive @abbybills22 @waywardemo @httpmcrvel @mutantjediavenger

#marvel #Avengers #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x fem!reader #brock rumlow x male!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #x male reader #reader #Female reader #male reader #one shot #writing #story writing #question #request #Questions #ask me anything #ask me questions #send me questions #Please send me stuff #please send me asks

[myfictionaldreams]

You’re Mine // Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary:  Steve loves showing off what’s his, You. What does he do when he sees someone staring at what is his.

Also, this story is inspired by the amazing works by @luxeavenger​ & @smutsonian​ x

Tags/Warnings: Exhibitionism, murder, dom!steve rogers, sir kink, praise kink, squirting, oral female oral male, vaginal sex, size kink, multiple orgasms, creepy!brock rumlow

Edited: 11/11/23

Words: 3.7k

Your eyes followed the broad shoulders of your boyfriend, Steve, as he leaned forward onto the table, resting his weight on his forearms. The fabric of his shirt stretched to its limits over the muscles beneath, and the black tie around his neck dangled forward as the tension in the room increased. Sitting up straighter in your seat, you tried to keep your thoughts tame by ignoring the growing dampness between your thighs.

However, this was easier said than done as you shifted once more in your seat, leaning back against the leather material and observing the scenario surrounding you. The Rogers gang had much anticipated this day as they all sat around the vast oak wood table; nine other seats were taken from your team. The guests occupied the remaining three; one was a man introduced to you as Rumlow, and the other two remained nameless, but they weren't the issue. At first, it almost went unnoticed by you that the man sitting opposite was watching you for longer than expected, but every time you looked in his direction, he would already be staring at you. His piercing gaze was unnerving, causing you to shift in the seat and drop your shoulders, wishing you could cover up as sour bile coated the back of your mouth. Every time you would catch Rumlow staring, you'd quickly look towards Steve, silently begging for this meeting to hurry up and finish. However, from its direction, the conversation about the shipment of guns continued.

Glancing once more towards your boyfriend at the head of your table, you continued to hope to make eye contact with him, finding comfort in the soft blue eyes, but it seemed like he was looking everywhere but in your direction.

"I need you to confirm we will have 50% profit from this if we go ahead, and I'm not having some bullshit knockoffs under my name", Steve demanded, looking in the direction of the three strangers across from you. Initially, you'd been thrilled to be invited to such an important meeting, and Steve had made it clear that he wanted you to be more involved with the gang, especially having grown up in this world. However, you could have been more dominant or assertive, which you knew you needed to be in this business, but Steve was happy for you just to attend and watch. With those beady, unwelcoming eyes from across the table flicking up and down your body, you regretted ever saying yes.

Still attempting to cover yourself, you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself seem as small as possible whilst also looking at Steve's second in command, Bucky, who surprisingly caught your eye. He immediately frowned at your posture and expression, tilting his head slightly and squinting at you, asking a silent question. Not wanting him to react, you smiled softly at him before looking away, checking if Rumlow was still looking at you, but to your dismay, his eyes were still trained on you, so you quickly glanced away, feeling uneasy.

Hearing the sound of shuffling fabrics, you spotted Bucky sitting at the edge of his leather chair, rolling his muscular shoulders back and looking sharply towards his boss, who hadn't noticed the sudden demeanour change in his friend. Feeling anxiety start to boil in your stomach, you tried to stay as still as you could, hoping and begging that Bucky didn't do anything and wishing for this meeting to have its conclusion.

Luck wasn't on your side, however; as the meeting continued for another few minutes, your eyes stayed trained on your boyfriend as he continued to talk about the logistics of the deal, trying to ignore the staring from the man across the table. Steve nodded whilst another one of the men explained the shipment process when he was suddenly cut off by Steve raising his hand for him to stop.

All eyes were on him as he sat back into his chair, resting his hand on his lips like he was contemplating what to do.

"I'm a man with a lot of patience; you have to be in a job like this", he began, not looking at anyone in particular. "I've been beaten, shot, stabbed, kicked to the curb by anyone and everyone to make it to where I am today, but never have I been disrespected quite like this, to my face." Your nerves were swirling through you with full force, and your hands started to tremble at your sides.

Steve then suddenly stood, his chair scraping against the floor as it moved. Everyone watched closely as he began to walk down the table, stopping only once he held your chair, pulling it back and spinning it until you were looking up at him. You gasped and held onto the edge of the chair with the sudden movement, mouth gaping open as the Mafia boss leaned down with both arms on either side of your chair, his stunning blue eyes now level with yours. The orbs flicked across your face, almost like he was searching for something important, before turning his head to the left, looking directly towards the man who hadn't stopped looking at you.

Steve's voice was low as he asked, "Do you like what you see, Rumlow? Do you think she's pretty? Maybe it's her dress that you can't keep her eyes off? Or maybe you get off one seeing her cower. Do you like making women uncomfortable? I'm just not quite sure what gave you the RIGHT to disrespect me and look at what's mine." Your eyes were wide and unblinking as you stared up at Steve, his muscles strained beneath his shirt as he became increasingly more aggravated whilst staring at Rumlow, who was now looking at a spot on the table. You'd even begun to shake slightly with nerves and adrenaline as the veins in Steve's neck began to bulge, but you also could not deny that seeing him so protective was causing in between your legs to slicken. He looked so big and robust leaning over you, and you couldn't help the intrusive thoughts of dropping to your knees, but you'd never, not when he was this worked up.

The blond man's nose flared as he turned back to look at you, checking visually head to toe before leaning forward and kissing you softly on the temple. Steve stepped back, standing to his full towering height and holding out a hand for you, which you accepted immediately, your much smaller hand sliding into his rough palm, the size of his dwarfed yours. He helped you to stand and walked back to his seat at the head of the table. Steve sat first, adjusting until he was comfortable and then tapping his fingers against his knee, which you gladly sat on, happy to have the invitation and be close to him.

Steve eased both of your legs so that they lay over one of his thighs and wrapped his arms behind your back, moving closer to kiss you just under your jaw, sending a slight shiver through you. "Are you ok?" he whispered so only you could hear, his arms warming you instantly. You moved your arms around his neck, turned towards him and nodded, finally feeling safe. Steve kissed your jaw again and continued to whisper, "Remember your safe word, my love." You were thrilled at his words, wondering what he had planned.

Moving his face back towards the table, your boyfriend stared back at the men before him. His gaze zoned in on Rumlow, who still hadn't lifted his eyes from the spot on the table. "I'm usually quite good with giving second chances or hearing someone out, so speak up, Rumlow. I haven't got all day." A second passed before Steve shouted, his body shaking with his words, "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" You could feel the angry heat seeping from your boyfriend's shirt as he stared daggers at the man who jumped so high he nearly fell out of his seat.

Rumlow's eyes now flicked to you both at the top of the table, and you impulsively moved closer to your boyfriend, hiding your face in his neck, breathing in his calming aftershave. You heard him respond, "She's hot. Can you blame me?" Steve didn't react at first, but you heard Bucky and the rest of your gang becoming restless around you. It was one of the greatest privileges of being Steve's girlfriend; not only would he protect you with his life, but every other gang member would happily do the same for you, having become very protective over you. 

"You knew she was mine, yet you still thought you could stare at her like that." Rumlow merely shrugged in response.

Steve didn't say another word; he didn't need to. All he had to do was look at Bucky and nod. The gang instantly moved into motion; whilst one moved to lock the door, the rest roughly grabbed the three men, handcuffed each of them with a few punches into submission and moved the table up against the wall. The three men were then forced to be on their knees before you both, two of them bleeding from their faces from the punches that were delivered to them as the rest of the gang held them in place; Bucky stood beside Steve's chair.

"You scared her, which means you disrespected her and, therefore, all of us. You three will stay there and watch on your knees as I pleasure my girl, and every time she cums, Bucky here is going to eliminate you one by one." Your breaths came in quick, sharp intakes.

You'd never seen him so angry and yet so calm as he promised to murder the three men in front of you. Any rational person should be running and hiding from him, but his extreme methods were something you grew to find a thrill in. Steve loved to show you off, whether it was in the middle of the club or the office with Bucky sitting before you both; he always got the biggest high from others, watching you cum over and over with his hands. Your thighs continue to rub together to relieve any bit of tension that had been building since being in his lap.

Steve moved his hand from your midsection to grasp your neck lightly, making you look him in the eye. You knew he was waiting for you to say your safeword, but instead, all you whispered was "please", and that's all he needed to crash his lips onto yours. Devouring them, his tongue quickly entered your mouth as it twisted and turned with your own. He pulled back and nipped your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan deeply at the sensation. His hand around your neck squeezed lightly and then pushed your face to the side so he could attack your neck with harsh kisses and bites, each one making you moan more, biting your lip to hold back the noise. Steve moved back to your mouth and pulled your lip between teeth.

"Don't hold back with your noises; let them hear you. Let everyone in this god-damn city hear you." Slowly, his hand drifted lower, over the peaks of your breasts, over your abdomen and finally rested on your thighs, where he trailed a light touch on the outside of them. Goosebumps littered your body, and you unclenched your thighs on instinct, giving his hand room.

He smiled against your lips. "Such a good girl, so ready for me, aren't you." You nodded your head, making desperate noises as his large hand drifted towards your soaking wet centre. As soon as his fingers touched the silk of your panties, he moaned deeply and started to apply pressure in a circular motion where your clit was. Still holding onto his neck, your head fell backwards, eyes closing at finally being touched there. "You're so wet, fuck." His fingers continued for a moment before stopping entirely and pulling away. You opened your eyes and whined at the loss of contact.

"Stand up and take off your panties." You stood with your back towards the three men still in the centre of the room, watching in confusion at the scene before them. Lifting your dress, you held eye contact with Steve as you pulled the black material down your legs and passed them to him. He had them in his fingers briefly before handing them to Bucky. "Give them to Rumlow; let him feel how her body reacts to me." You blushed as you watched Bucky take the panties and, move behind you and put them into one of his handcuffed hands of Rumlow.

Steve held his hand for you again, his eyes not leaving yours. You stepped towards him, and his hands fell onto your hips. "Shall we show them what a pretty little thing you are?" Before you had time to respond, he turned you to face the three men and pulled you down onto his lap, his thick things on either side of you as you sat directly over his raging cock, trapped in his slacks. Your impulse response was to moan and start rolling your bare centre onto him, but it seemed he had other ideas. He relaxed back into the chair, slumping slightly. Each of his strong hands gripped one of your thighs and picked them up, draping them over separate thighs, so you were now spread open wide to all those in the room. You couldn't help the gasp that left your throat as everyone now looked at your glistening cunt, the cold air making you pant as you needed something, anything, to get you off. "Do you see this boys? See her beautiful cunt, and it's all mine." His left hand lifted from one of your thighs to grip your neck slightly, pulling you flush against his front; you could feel his member straining in his slacks against your ass.

His right hand drifted up to one of your hard nipples, twisting and pulling it. You groaned loudly and arched up into his warm hand. He roughly grabbed your breast and then repeated the action on the other. Your moans were the only sounds coming from the office as all nine men watched you crumbling slowly in your boyfriend's arms. "Please..." you whispered between moans. "I need you, sir, please."

You felt your boyfriend kiss your forehead again and smile at your begging. "Such a good girl", he said as his hand finally returned to your bundle of nerves. This time, he applied more pressure as his fingertips moved in slow circles, making you whimper into the air at finally being touched. The curling sensation low in your body started to build as you felt your breathing speed up. Without any warning, Steve plunged two fingers deep inside of you, his thumb still circling your clit as he started to pound his fingers into you at a ruthless pace, your wetness giving plenty of lube for his large fingers.

"Don't stop, please don't stop, I'm gonna cum, please can I cum, sir?" You hurriedly asked in a panic as the curling sensation felt like it would overwhelm you. When you heard his whisper, "cum for me, baby", you clenched hard around his fingers, gripping the hand around your throat as hard as you could as you screamed his name as pleasure ran through your body, making your toes curl. You could have stayed in that position forever, but the sound of a man grunting and a splash brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you watched as the man to the left hunched forward, a red puddle forming around him as Bucky wiped the knife in his hand on his leg. You didn't have time to respond as you felt Steve pull his fingers out of you and move them to your lips. You gladly took them into your mouth, moaning as Steve whispered how you were such a good girl in your ear.

Steve moved his arms around your abdomen, lifted you in the air, and then turned, placing you into his chair as he knelt before you. His usual bright blue eyes were now dark, the pupils huge as he stared at you, gripping your hips and pulling you to the edge of the chair. His eyes never left yours as he moved his head forward until you felt his breath on your cunt.

He growled the word "mine" before latching on to your clit. Sucking harshly and then smoothing it down with his tongue, the pleasure just running through you as he took his sweet time building your orgasm up, edging you on and on. Your hands reached forward and gripped his blonde hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you held him against you. Steve's hands wandered over your body, your dress bunched at your waist. He started to play with your nipples as his tongue moved down to your entrance, entering it and trying to reach every nook and crevice that he could. The mewling noises only spurred him on as you opened your eyes to look at him, trying not to look at the men over his shoulder, one now dead before us. Sensing your distraction, Steve moved back to your clit whilst one hand back to your entrance, slowly inserting the same two fingers as before. You automatically clenched around him and started to rock your hips as he moved in and out of you with his fingers and sucked hard on your bundle of nerves.

"Steve", you moaned loudly as you felt your second orgasm starting to take over and then erupt through you when he began to curl his finger up into that magical spot you had within. He didn't stop as you screamed his name in pleasure, liquid dripping down his chin and forearm as you squirted with your orgasm. As he slowed down, you could hardly hear the sound of the second man being killed over the sound of your heavy breathing. Steve removed his fingers and kissed the inside of your thighs and then licked his fingers clean whilst moaning.

"You think you can do this for me again, baby?" You nodded, sitting up and grabbing onto his belt to free his cock as he stood before you. Finally releasing him, you saw the precum dripping from his tip, and you didn't waste any time taking it into your mouth and moaning. Gripping the base, you swirl your tongue around the head, loving the grunts coming from his mouth as he places a soft hand on the back of your head. Inching forward, you started to take more and more of his cock into your mouth; you'd never been able to fit the whole thing in, so you used your hand to toss the base as you moved back and forth with your mouth. He didn't let you carry on for long, though, because he was soon pulling your hair to pull you off; you whined as you looked up at him.

"I want to, please", you groaned to him, but he only moved forward to kiss your lips.

"Not today; I need to fill you up; I need them to see how you were made for me to be inside of you, how well we fit together." He gripped your hips once more, swapping you around so he was now sitting with you straddling his thighs. You really had to stretch to reach over them as his cock bobbed on his abdomen. Reaching down, you moved your hand up and down a few times and, with some help from Steve, lifted and started to lower yourself on his thick, raging cock. You hissed in pleasure as, inch by inch, you lowered down, feeling your tight walls stretching until you were finally sat with your bare cheeks on his thighs.

After a few seconds, you started to lift slightly before coming back down, rocking yourself gently on him as he let you set the pace, hands hovering over your hips, his mouth slightly open as he just silently watched you, fucking yourself on him. Your hands were gripped onto his tie as your eyes closed, head tipped back, moaning his name over and over.

"You see that, Rumlow, the way she's mine, how only I can make her feel this good whilst calling only MY name. No one looks at her like the way you did, and no one upsets my girl." And with that, he moved closer to kiss you hungrily, starting to snap his hips up to meet yours, his muscular arms wrapping around your back. You moved your hands up to hold his face, staring into his eyes as he started fucking you hard, the sounds of your bodies slapping together ringing in your ears as you felt your orgasm already beginning to build within you.

"I don't know how much longer I can last sir". You mumbled between moans.

"Hold on, baby, I'm nearly there.  Fuck just a little bit longer." Your whole body was on fire with pleasure as you tried to hold back from cumming. You started clawing at his back as he rested his head against your shoulder, relentlessly fucking up into you. "That's it, cum for me, that's my girl." You screamed his name as loud as you could, him doing the same, as your orgasm ran through you hard, you clenched around his cock, feeling his seed filling you up and spilling out of you, and you grasped onto him as your life depended on it. As you came down from your high, Steve kissed you all over your face, making you giggle. You relaxed into him, leaning your head against his shoulder as he stood, his half-limp cock still inside of you as he walked towards the door to leave, the sound of it unlocking filling your ears. As he left to take care of you, you briefly looked over his shoulders to see the three men lifeless on the floor, and a small smile found on your face.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #marvel smut #steve rogers x reader #captain america smut #mine* #one shot #steve rogers #mafia! steve rogers #mafia au #dom! steve rogers #mafia steve rogers

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

How would Bucky react to someone else flirting with his girl.

he would NOTTT be pleased. i can tell ya that much.

BACK OFF- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Boyfriend! Bucky x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 876

Summary: when someone gets a little too close and comfortable with you, bucky decides enough is enough.

Warnings: violence, swearing, booze, smut implied if you squint

You felt the familiar, crystal blues drilling a hole in your back from across the room. You were used to the feeling of being watched, as your boyfriend never took his eyes off of you for more than a few seconds at a time.

A staring problem was considered an understatement.

But you never minded. You enjoyed it actually, his normal cool and stormy gaze a sky blue for you. No matter where you were, he was with you, his soft glances never leaving.

That rule didn't differ, as you felt his eyes on you from across the room. The friend group was at the local bar, the Star Spangled Pub. The usual meeting place.

Bucky was nursing a beer from across the room with Steve and Sam, his presence calm and peaceful as he watched you. You were playing pool with Natasha, Carol and Wanda, cue stick in hand as you laughed at something they said.

The lights were dimmed, quiet melodies playing from the old jukebox in the corner as you swayed along to the beat, taking a sip of your drink. You were having an amazing time.

Until you weren't.

The girls ran to grab more drinks, and you politely declined, knowing your limit. You had Bucky with you and he always looked after you if you drank too much, but tonight you wanted to be sober and conscious so you could see him and hear his sweet moans and praises clearly.

A tall black-haired man neared you, and you thought nothing of it. Neither did Bucky.

He was possessive, of course he was.

But when men approached you under his watchful eye, it never bothered him unless they were flirting with you. Trust was key in your relationship, and of course Bucky wanted you to have friends, male, female or anything in between.

So he looked away, rolling his eyes at Sam's jokes. You noticed the presence lingering behind you a little too long, so you turned to meet his hungry gaze as he raked you over.

“ Hi, sorry can I help you? Did you reserve this table or something?” you asked sweetly, not wanting to bother him. “No, no honey was just lookin at you. What's a pretty little thing like you doin all alone?” the man stepped forward, pressing you sharply into the table.

“ Oh I’m not alone, my boyfriend is actually-”

“I don't care baby. Want you anyways. I’m Brock.” His hand reached for your body, to grab anything he could reach.

“Get. The fuck. Away. From. Her.” a gruff voice snarled, Bucky shielding you with his beefy body from the man. His gaze was cold as ice, like a hunter as he stared down at the man. His voice was collected and calm.

Too calm. A storm was brewing.

“Or what buddy?” You had no idea who took the leap of faith first, the sound of bone crunching echoed in the air. “MOTHEFUCKER!” the man shrieked, stumbling back and clutching his nose.

Blood was trickling everywhere from Buckys blow to Brock's nose, breaking it with one clean punch. “ IF YOU'RE GOING TO FIGHT GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY BAR RUMLOW” the bartender shouted, stepping in to grab his shirt and yanking him back before a blow could be attempted on Bucky.

Not that he’d get very far before his entire arm was broken and snapped.

“Are you okay baby? He didn't touch you did he?” he asked, scanning your body for any signs of harm. “No, no he didnt. Thank you baby.” you reassured, gripping his red henley tightly as he pulled you in close to his chest. Suddenly, the girls came running back, worried looks etched on their faces.

“ We heard yelling, what happened?” Carol asked, frantically eyeing Bucky. “ Some guy was stepping out of line. He’s lucky I didn't kill him. I think Y/N and I are gonna head, she's pretty frazzled.” he noted, nodding to Steve and Sam from across the bar.

Bucky held you close, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders as he lead you out of the bar. The walk was silent minus the crunching of leaves as the two of you neared his motorcycle from down the street. “ I’m sorry Jamie. I didnt know he’d do that.” you keened, tugging his jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cool breeze blew by.

“Oh sweet doll I know that. I’m just sorry that pig went anywhere near you.” he cooed, cupping your jaw with his hand, stroking it soothingly with his thumb.

You smiled up at him, heart melting into a puddle when he leaned down and kissed you softly. His kisses were little sympathies, each touch in perfect harmony. It was sweet and filled with endless love. As if he could pour all the love he had felt for you into one kiss, one single touch.

Butterflies churned in your stomach as he kissed you until your head was light and woozy, cheeks heated despite the cool, crisp air.

“Now how about we go back home and order in some takeout. We can watch whatever movie your little heart desires, okay dolly?”

God you loved this man. You loved him with your entire being.

“ As long as there's cuddles involved.”

#bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female reader #bucky smut #winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james barnes fluff #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes smut #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes fanfic #james barnes fic #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider smut #the winter solider

[ijustwant2write]

ijustwant2write: Marvel Masterlist (Updated 21/02/21)

Avengers:

That’s Just Wrong

We Irritating

Steve Rogers:

Come Back To Me

1940′s Day

We Lost Them

‘I Could Never Have This’

Rapunzel

Language Of Love

Solo Mission

Wrong Lover Series (Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes) (8/?)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

You Abandoned Me Series 11/11:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Bucky Barnes:

1940′s Day

Hold My Hand

Wardrobe Malfunction / Part 2

For You

Delirious Confessions

Mr and Mrs Barnes

Our First Night

The Butterfly Effect (Powers!Reader)

‘He’s gone, but I’ve got you’

Swept Off Your Feet

‘Make me pretty doll’

Confidence

Tony Stark:

Salt ‘n’ Pepper

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

New Menu

Not Alone

‘We’ve both had a shitty day, so let’s just stay in and cuddle.’

Thor Odinson:

A New Ruler

New Haircut

History of Our Worlds

Looks Aren’t Always Everything

Loki:

Mischief In The Making

Peter Quill:

Mother Figure

Peter Parker:

Stay Out Of My Way

Secret Dreams

A Bad Disguise

Door To Door

Millionaire Mentor

‘You knew I was going to ask you out?’

Hiding

‘I know how much you love her.’

Saying The Wrong Things

Paying My Respects

Never Alone (Male!Reader, Apocalypse AU)

Stephen Strange:

The Doctor’s Daughter (Powers!Reader)

Sam Wilson:

Wingman

I Found

‘You’re not as strong as him!’

Just Next Door

Wanda Maximoff:

A Trip To The Museum

A Different Person

Broken Hands

Pietro Maximoff:

A Trip To The Museum

Call Me By My Name

Brock Rumlow:

Workplace Drama

Unprofessional / Part 2

Two Sides

Jack Thompson:

The Right Kinda Gal

Clint Barton:

High Rooftops (Stark!Reader)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark imagines #Thor Odinson #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson one shot #thor odinson imagines #thor odinson x reader #loki #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki one shot #loki x reader #peter quill #peter quill imagine #peter quill imagines #peter quill one shot #peter quill x reader

[nekoannie-chan]

The best birthday

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Female!Reader X Brock Rumlow.

Word count: 524 words.

Summary: No summary, PWP.

Warnings: PWP, smut, NSWF, oral sex (given and received, male and female), threesome, double penetration, slightly humiliation.

A/N: This is my gift to @saiyanprincessswanie. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MISSY!

You can read it too on Ao3 and Wattpad.

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

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

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

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

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

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​ @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @marvelatthisone​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @sapphire-rogers​  @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose​ @hallecarey1​ @nana1000night​  @talia-rumlow​ @mylifeispainandiloveit​ @writingshae​ @alexxavicry​ @azulatodoryuga​  @daemonslittlebitch​​​ @chaoticcollectivenightmare​ @endlesstwanted​  @chemtrails-club​

You felt Brock's hand on your thigh, caressing it with a slowness that indicated you were beginning to feel desperate; you needed his hand somewhere else. Steve put his hand on your cheek, then brought your face closer, kissed you, and caressed your lip with his tongue to get inside.

As Brock's hand kept moving up your inner thigh, he started stroking you over your pants, causing you to moan.

Steve continued to kiss you while placing his hands on your breasts, focusing on your nipples.

Brock took off your pants; you weren't going to need them. With one finger, he began to make small circles around your clitoris; after a while, he introduced one finger and then another.

"I think she's ready, Cap," Brock said, pulling his fingers out. "Look at her, she's so wet."

Steve laughed and nodded, knowing they'd make you even wetter. Brock settled on the couch and put you on top; you felt him going inside you, while Steve made you bend down a little, pulling his dick out so it was in front of your face; you saw he was fully erected and started to lick it, then you put it in your mouth, and Steve started to fuck your mouth.

Brock grabbed your hips to control the speed more easily.

Steve stopped you and pulled it out of your mouth. He carefully made you straighten up, making you feel the penetration deeper and moan more. He went down and started to lick your clitoral area. You stirred; it felt so good. They knew how to please you. You started to tremble when you felt the first orgasm.

"Tell us what you want," Steve ordered you, holding your face with a little force to lift it, which made you feel excited again.

"I need both of you," you answered, your breath still heaving.

"You need us? What do you want us to do?" Brock whispered in your ear as he licked and continued down your exposed neck.

"Inside me..." you moaned again.

The two men looked at each other and smiled. Brock turned you over, leaving your ass exposed so Steve could enter. You started moaning again as Steve started to enter, but Brock shut you up by sticking his fingers in your mouth.

"You're a good girl; you take us so well," Brock said.

For the next few minutes, all you could hear was the sound of skin colliding and the moans of the three of you as beads of sweat slid down your skin and the smell of sex flooded the room. Steve kissed your back as you dug your nails into Brock's shoulders.

You started screaming out both of their names as your next orgasm approached, and you just hoped your screams didn't alarm the neighbors like last time, as it had been very awkward explaining to the police what had happened. That didn't matter to you after a few seconds because you were having the best orgasm of your life.

"So, did you like your birthday present?" Steve asked you a few minutes after you finished fiddling.

"What do you think?" you answered, laughing

#Happy Birthday Missy #steve rogers x reader x brock rumlow #steve rogers smut #brock rumlow smut

[deliciousangelfestival]

Wicked Romance

Chapter 1

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her. 

Warning: Maybe bad writing? Hehehe forgive me. This is my first time write and posting my own fan fiction on tumblr.

############

If an outsider sees Steve, he got everything: looks, money, status. But for him, he lacks one thing; the right person to stand beside him.  

But let’s talk about how Steve became the new mob leader.

Steve got raised by his mother Sarah Rogers, it was until he retired from the military he reconnected with his father again. 

He thought his father, Joseph Rogers owns a security firm every time he visits him when he was a kid after his parents divorced. Until he reaches a certain age he realized his father actually is a mob boss. He found his childhood friend Bucky, they went to the army together, also working with his father after he got into an accident that cost his left arm. 

He owes it to his father, but Joseph doesn’t need his son to pay his debt. He only wanted his son to stay with him. Joseph has everything, but he missing two things; his lovely wife and his son. 

Joseph loves Sarah, but he forgot she doesn’t come from a mobster background. When they got married, she was overwhelmed. Looking at her husband coming home with blood on his hands or they need to stay at the safe house when she was 8 months pregnant and when Steve was baby the rival gang tried to hurt her and their son. 

Sarah admitted to Joseph that she couldn’t live like this. In the end, she asks to separated but they never divorced. Joseph never sends the document to the court. 

When Joseph retired, he decided to be honest. He went to chase his wife again. With a lot of effort the couple reunited again.

Their love story was so sweet that could make Steve’s teeth hurt. Joseph appointed Steve as the new leader while he enjoys his second honeymoon with his wife. 

It’s been 5 years since Steve became the new mob boss, now he’s waiting for the one that could help him write a sweet story like his parents. 

## 

Right now around lunchtime at the fancy that owned by Rogers. Steve and others like Bucky and Sam are sitting at the bar. While Pietro is the bartender serving their drinks. 

It's a usual day for them but it's a little bit different with Steve this time.

Steve head not looking at his food because notices someone seating near the window. She wearing a dress, not too sexy but he could see her legs. She is completely different from a woman who dressed less to get his attention. The reason is simple Steve is an attractive man, tall, broad shoulder, the expensive three-piece suit that wraps his muscles. He only sits for 3 minutes, few girls try to seduce him but he politely or in a sarcastic way to shoo them. 

And the girl who he watched for a while won’t budge to turned around. It poked his ego a little bit. He quite used to with the flirt and attention. 

“You still staring at her.”

Bucky’s words made Steve snap up from his trance. 

Steve shook his head, he couldn’t help it because he wants to see the woman face who sitting alone. 

“Pfft.”

Someone who holds his laughter. Three of them turn their gaze towards the bartender served their drink. 

“Something funny Pietro?” Steve raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m just surprised my boss lose his game before approaching Miss Lilly.”

Steve tilts his head “You knew her name?”

Pietro nodded while whipping the glass with cloth “Yup, the gorgeous lady that always left a big tip.” 

“She has become a regular?” Sam asks surprised. 

“Perhaps, it’s difficult to forget her since the first time she came here.” Pietro is a sucker for a beautiful woman. 

He put the clean glass on the shelf “The day she came here also the first day Peter Peter start his job.”

The alpha male grunted when Parker’s name mentioned. That kid is troublesome. He always late for his job and clumsy, but he’s the best chef assistant according to Wanda who the head chef at the restaurant. 

“So she’s been our customer for 5 months. How come we never notice her?” Sam whispered asking. They always come here every day for lunch and dinner. 

Pietro raised his shoulder “Usually she only stays for 10 minutes after buying one drink. Then she left. This is the first time she asks for a table.” 

After hearing the info from Pietro, Steve looking at her back once again. 

“Steve, if you don’t talk to her I will,” Sam said while moving from his seat. 

Steve stop Sam by grabbing his shoulder “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

“Go get her punk.” Bucky raised his fist.

Steve nodded, he walks closer towards her table, he doesn’t understand why his heart beating so fast. 

He already in his game, using his usual pick-up line and smile, but before his foot stops at her table, she turns her head towards him. 

It felt like a slow-motion when he saw her looking at him. 

The first moment he looked at her eyes, somehow the time stop and world in only both of them. 

She looks at him with a friendly smile. ‘Her eyes,’ he couldn’t look away. 

“Hi…” He couldn’t believe he almost squeaked his voice. Steve could feel his face turn red like tomatoes. How he wishes, the situation could change.

‘BANG’

The loud sound came from the gun sound. The door abruptly opened by a bunch of guys who wear suits, some of them holding guns, and baseball bat, and the one who leads them is Brock Rumlow. 

Steve cursed, because of the annoying newcomer, he already lost the moment with her. But partly he blamed himself, earlier he wished to change the situation. Be careful what you wished for.

It must be his rival gang who crash his business again. This is the third time in one month. Since Brock became the new head after Pierce died. 

“Damn it.” He saw Bucky and Sam already start kicking and punching. 

He turned at her, he looks at her with puppy eyes “Forgive me for today’s distraction. You don’t have to pay. It’s free.”

Before she could reply, one guy holding a baseball bat, and swing at Steve but he able to stop it. 

“Everyone leave this place !!!” He screamed his lungs out to alarm the guest who still shocked. All of them ran to save their lives. 

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Pietro busy fighting their rival. 

No wonder why he had bad feelings, today seems nothing could go wrong. He knew something bad will happen. Turn out it’s Rumlow. 

“What do you want Rumlow?” Steve hissed at the uninvited guest.

Brock shrugged his shoulder “Oh nothing, I just want to say hi to my rival, since I became the boss now.”

‘Because of that reason?’ Steve inwardly thought. But he knew why Rumlow did this, he want everyone to know his name since he recently got this position. And this bastard choose his place at the wrong time and the wrong place.

Both of them punches at each other and destroyed the furniture.

Brock always sneaky, he prepares a hidden knife under his sleeves aka phantom blade. 

He succeeded stab Steve’s shoulder. 

“Urgh.” But because of his muscles, it didn’t go that deep. 

Brock brings Steve to his shoulder and throws him to the ground. 

Steve landed on the ground while Brock put on a mocking smile looking down at him. 

“Boys~”

The seductive voice made both of them turn to see who it was. 

Steve widened his eyes when he saw the girl who took his breath away standing in front of them. 

When she stood, he could see she’s wearing a skirt that has a high cut on her left thigh. Steve and Brock were taken aback because under the fabric there’s a belt dagger. 

She slightly pouted which made Steve thought for a second she looks adorable. But what the hell is she doing here when he already told everyone to leave this place.

She put her right hand on her left chest “It breaks my heart seeing my favorite restaurant destroyed like this.”

Steve somehow felt happy when he knew she like his work.

She grabs the dagger and throws it to Steve. 

“I’m lending it to you.” She winked at him, and turn around to grab her coat. She headed to the exit door, easily avoided the fight.

“That’s one hot lady right there.” 

“Yeah, she is.”  Steve took the chance to give a butthead towards Brock. He doesn’t want this jerk to look at his ‘future date’. 

Brock screamed while holding his broken nose “That’s was low, I was distracted.”

“Let’s get this over with. I can’t do this all day.” Steve finally let out his rage towards Rumlow. 

####

Their fight is done with the result Steve side who won. 

“I’ll get you next time,” Brock screamed angrily, his fingers broken by Steve. He got carried by the paramedic. 

Steve wiped his bloody nose with a cloth while Bruce pressing his shoulder “Yeah yeah, just not in this place again.” He answered lazily. 

He sighed because he’s getting tired of Rumlow childish fight. After his wound got treated by Bruce, Steve went back into the restaurant. 

What he saw is a broken window, table, the custom leather chair that imported from Italy also ruined. There will be one person who will be crazy over this, Natasha who also his accountant, and Bucky’s wife. 

His shoes step on the broken glass, his eyes locking to the table where she sat. 

When he arrived he saw the book she read. Steve notice there is a bookmark inside of it. He doesn’t want to touch her touch without permission but he eager wants to see what inside. 

Steve put his hand on his mouth and gasped “Oh f**k!”

“Language you punk!” Bucky and Sam appear from behind. Their face and hands also bruised because of the short fight. 

“What’s wrong?”

They got no answer from Steve. He look like a statue still looking at his hands.

Bucky and Sam glanced at the bookmark on Steve’s hand. Both of them smirked.

’When the restaurant re-open, text me: (646)-xxxxxxxx’

Steve’s mind went back to the first time he saw her face and that beautiful smile, then the way she’s not afraid of the craziness that happens today, and she lent him a dagger so he can win. 

He didn’t think it wasn’t a thing, but it happened to him. 

He fell in love at the first sight. 

“We totally lose him.” Sam waves his hand in front of Steve’s eyes. 

They could see Steve on cloud nine right now. 

“Good for him, maybe he could move on this time,��� Bucky murmured. 

Sam pointed one critical point “But first of all, we need to tell your wife about today.” 

Bucky sighed “That’s the difficult part.” 

While his friends busy thinking about how to coaxing Natasha so she won’t stun them with the lecture that could last for the whole day and make their ear hurts, Steve is planning how to renovate the restaurant fast so he could text her.

>>>CHAPTER 2

Taglist:

@cloudystevie​

#mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #sam wilson #pietro maximov #peter parker #cs4kwritingchallenge #marvel au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine

[justagirlinafandomworld]

November Reading List

Welcome to November 2020′s masterlist for @beccaanne814​‘s 366 Reblog Challenge! 

Feel free to explore these fics and meet some wonderful writers! Summaries, pairings, and warnings are provided as the writer has listed. Please read responsibly and have fun!

366 Reblog Challenge Masterlist

1 - 15. Supernova Series by @whitestarbucky​​ A suprnova happens where there is a change in the core, or center, of a star. As the star runs out of nuclear fuel, some of its mass flows into its core. Eventually, the core collapses, which results in the giant explosion of a supernova. Bucky never thought he could witness this beautiful tragedy in his lifetime. Until he met you. MCU | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Strong language. Swearing. Smut (eventually). Angst. Death. Violence. Humor. Sam Wilson as Captain America (tbh if this triggers you, don’t read anything I write). Slow af burn. Depression. PTSD mentions. Fluff (if ya squint).

16. Original Fiction by @bethanythemartian​​ Prompt:  You’re a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids’ parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.

Sam’s Hands by @thinkinghardhardlythinking​​ SPN | Sam Winchester x Reader

17. Dust to Dust by @writingsoftheloser​​ The snap happens. MCU | Bucky Barnes x Reader  Warnings: Angst, IW spoilers

18. Imagine...Running Into Your Ex by @luci-in-trenchcoats​​ SPN | Dean Winchester x Reader

Blanket Monster by @drabblewithfrannybarnes​​ A comfort drabble exactly 100 words. Fantastic Four | Johnny Storm x Reader

19. The Beard  - Chapter one by @negans-lucille-tblr​​ Jared and Jensen are a secret the world can’t find out. When their management insists they hire a beard to protect their images they are less than happy with the arrangement. Pretending to be in love with someone other than Jared is going to be hard for Jensen...right? top!Jensen x bottom!Jared // Jensen x Reader // (scenes of) J2 x Reader Warnings: smut, dirty talking, fake smut, flirting, teasing, fluff, angstish, blowjob (male giving)

20. No me quiro enamorar (pero lo hice) by @nekoannie-chan​​ Nunca creíste que te enamorarías de Brock, sin embargo alguien interrumpió su felicidad y ahora querías vengarte. MCU | Brock Rumlow x Lectora Warnings: Angst

Rainy Days and Mondays by @kellyn1604​​ You and Dean reminisce about your childhoods and decide it’s never too late to play in the rain. SPN | Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: little bit of angst, mutual pining, fluff

21. The One With The Intervention by @beanie-beebo​ SPN | Gen Fic Warnings: None.

22. Love is in the little things by @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ Dean shows the reader he cares as they bond over the season finale of ‘Dr Sexy MD’.  SPN | Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: None. Fluff.

23. All I Want - Epilogue by @kellyn1604​ A small snap shot into the lives of Professor Rogers and his favorite ex-student a year and a half down the road. MCU | Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: Explicit smut, D/s leanings, spanking, orgasm denial

24.  кролик by @mariessecretfantasies​ Reader wakes up in unfamiliar surrounding, with a most unfamiliar man. (Dark Fic) MCU | dark!Winter Soldier x Reader Warnings: NON CON, kidnapping, sensory deprivation, voice kink, praise kink, restraints, blindfolds, subtle breeding kink

25. Nowhere to Run by @sagechanoafterdark​ Kinktober Prompt: Fingering MCU | dark! Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: dubcon, language, fingering, young Steve Rogers AU

26. Messed Up by @donutloverxo​ Steve messed up and he’s determined to make it up to you. MCU | Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: 18+ only please, smut (m/f), daddy kink, age gap.

27. Only Ever Been You by @winchest09​ Y/N couldn’t continue playing the game anymore, knowing that her heart couldn’t take another fake attempt at happiness. When her mask finally falls, her secrets pass her lips. SPN | Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Flangst. Angst, Fluff, argument, swearing, wet Dean Winchester

Save Me by @girl-next-door-writes​ Gif drabble request. SPN | Sam Winchester x Reader Warnings: Shirtless Sam.

28. A Hand to Hold by @writingsoftheloser​ Soulmates are complicated. Sometimes you find yours when you least expect it and sometimes things don’t go as they should. It’s all about right time and realizations, isn’t it? MCU | Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: there’s some angst, some fluff.

29. May I Request: A Time Machine by @imanuglywombat​ In the third addition of May I Request, our reader is out on the mean streets of Harlem kicking ass and taking down names...well, rather, making out with Steve Rogers in bars and trying to infiltrate a weapons of mass destruction dealer. Life undercover isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and tension is mounting. Thank goodness Bucky Barnes is on hand to help out with alcohol. It’s a shame no one can hold their liquor. MCU | Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: Sexual tension, enemies-to-lovers, banter, angst, Steve Rogers should not drink, Steve Rogers is a drunk liability, improper use of the daddy kink, terrible undercover techniques, teasing, grinding.

30. It’s Not Too Late by @girl-next-door-writes​ Gif drabble request. SPN | Sam Winchester x Reader Warnings: kind of angsty

#becca's reblog challenge november 2020 #becca's reblog challenge

[the-mighty-jellybean]

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels... are

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One//  Part Two//   Part Three//  Part Four//  Part Five//  Part Six//  Part Seven//  Part Eight//  Part Nine//  Part Ten//  Part Eleven//   Part Twelve//    Part Thirteen//  Part Fourteen//  Part Fifteen//  Part Sixteen//  Part Seventeen//

Part Eighteen: Judgment Day

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language 

Word Count: 3k

Y/N’s head rested on the cold porcelain of the bathtub, the water by now had gone cold, and she had just been laying in the chilled tub for over two hours. Steve had been sat outside the door, for just as long. Y/N had locked the door, and refused to let him in, feeling numb, not sure whether it was because of the events that had occurred a few hours ago, or the temperature of the women.

“Sweetheart, please let me in.” Steve begged, “let me in, please let me just hold you.”

The sound of the dripping tap was the only thing that she could hear. Her cheeks were stained, but she couldn’t tell whether it was from the bathtub, or the stream of tears that had leaked down her face.

How could things have gone so wrong; how could this have happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do the Prosecution have any more witnesses?” Judge Danvers turned to Shuri and Nakia, who’s heads were close together, as they frantically whispered between each other.

“Miss Nakia, Miss Shuri, do you have any more witnesses to bring against the Defence?” Carol asked once again, when the two were yet to respond to her question.

“Er, can we wait a moment?” Shuri tried to compromise.

“How long is a moment?” Zola chided, glaring at the women.

“Mr Zola, I will be the one to ask questions in my court.” Judge Danvers scolded, Zola visibly swallowing.

“We will postpone your witnessing, until Mr Zola has finished with his personal statement.” Judge Danvers decided, “Mr Zola please bring forward your character witness.”

“What are you waiting for?” Y/N whispered, Nakia couldn’t turn to look at her, and Shuri gave her a sad smile.

“We’re waiting for Peter.” Shuri explained.

“Where is he?” Steve leant forward.

“We don’t know.” Shuri shrugged, facing back to the front, as Brock’s character witness came to the stand.

“It’s okay, bubba, he’ll be here.” Steve promised. Y/N was not convinced, but she sat back in Steve’s arms, holding him close to her.

“I present the Defendants character witness, Baron Strucker.” The man took to the stand, and he made Y/N’s stomach sink. Strucker looked menacing, he stood tall on the stand, his face was fixed in a permanent sneer.

Clerk Carter stood from her chair, she seemed intimidated by the man, as she made her way sheepishly towards the stand.

Swearing him in, before hurriedly sitting back at the desk, looking at her own notes.

“Mr Strucker, you are Mr Rumlow’s acquaintance?” Judge Danvers clarified.

“Yes, I have known Mr Rumlow for over ten years.” Strucker confirmed.

“I’ve never seen this guy before in my life.” Y/N whispered, despite their relationship being over a year and half, she had never seen Mr Strucker in their house, or around Brock.

“How would you describe Mr Rumlow’s temper?” Judge Danvers asked.

“My dealing with Mr Rumlow has always been on a professional basis. He had represented me a lot in many different cases, he has always remained professional, and well mannered. I was late with some payments on a few occasions, and Mr Rumlow was always decent and understanding.”

“Mr Rumlow never appeared aggressive towards you?” Danvers pressed.

“No, never, he was successful among my female staff members, they would describe him as charming. If I wasn’t a perfectly straight man, I might even give him a go.” A chatter came around the court, the jury giggling like school children, Brock’s smile was broad, whilst Y/N’s heart pounded, when she saw the positive response from the jury.

“Mr Strucker if you could remain professional.” Judge Danvers berated.

“Sorry, what can I say, he’s pretty to look at.” Strucker complimented, Brock decided to have the guts to blow him a kiss, the laughter from the jury, making the sinking feeling more prominent.

“What is the nature of your business, Mr Strucker?”

“I’m involved in the protection industry.” Strucker spoke confidently, yet vaguely.

“If you could be more specific, Mr Strucker.” Judge Danvers requested, coldly.

“I work in private security, to a private cliental.” Strucker said, slightly less confidently.

“Has Mr Rumlow ever required your services?” Judge Danvers began to sway the conversation.

“Um…on a few occasions.” Strucker replied, sceptically.

“What about on the evening of June 10th this year, when Dr Bruce Banner was attacked in his residence?” Strucker appeared to choke on his own spit, Zola’s face paled.

“I-er, don’t work in the private police sector, I don’t beat people up for money.” Strucker began to stammer, looking to Zola for help, but he could do nothing but flip through his file, hoping to find a way out of this.

“But you did receive a wire transfer of $10,000 from Mr Rumlow, a few days before hand, what was that for?” Judge Danvers leant on her fist, eyeing the now sweating and panicky man on the stand.

“I didn’t-wait I did-but it wasn’t…but…wait.”

“Would you like to step down please, Mr Strucker.” Judge Danvers waved him from the stand, “Miss Shuri, Miss Nakia, has your witnessed arrived yet?”

“Not quite, please a few more moments?” Nakia begged.

“If it helps to buy the Prosecution more time, I have another witness to present?” Zola piped up, smiling broadly.

“Well, if the Prosecution don’t have a witness to provide, then you may bring forward another witness.” Danvers sighed.

Y/N craned her head to see a tall, slimly built, woman, emerged from the crowd, sat behind Brock. She prowled to the stand, looking up through her eye lashes, doing slow and sultry blinks to the jury.

“Members of the jury I would like to present, Miss Tabitha Lima.” Zola’s smile couldn’t have gone any wider, and the wicked smile on Brock’s face was just as prominent, as he eyed Y/N, who was watching the woman, with just as much confusion as she had done with Strucker.

“What is your relation to Mr Rumlow?” Zola leant against the stand, like he was some love-struck Romeo.

“I’m Mr Rumlow’s ex-girlfriend.” Y/N’s head could have exploded, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard, she didn’t have a clue who this woman was.

“How long were you and Mr Rumlow, in a relationship for?” Zola asked.

“Just over three years.” Tabitha responded.

“That’s quite a significant amount of time, did you and Mr Rumlow live together at any point during your relationship?”

“Yes, we moved in after a year of being together, it was his idea, as I was struggling to maintain my house, because I was so busy with my work for UNICEF.” Y/N wanted to roll her eyes, there was no way this woman worked for UNICEF, but by the looks of the jury, that at this point Y/N had noticed, were a majority of white men, seemed taken by the alien-like being stood before them.

“I assume in your three-year relationship; you did engage in a sexual relationship?” Zola licked his lips, making all the women in the room shudder, but not out of admiration. A chill going through most of the females.

“Yes, Mr Rumlow and I would engage in regular sexual endeavours.” Tabitha replied, with a little giggle, that to the male ear, sounded cute, however; it was similar to nails on a chalkboard for the women in the room.

“Would you describe sex with Mr Rumlow as consensually rough?” Zola fiddled with his jacket, seemingly pulling it over his crouch.

“Yes, our sex life, was closely linked to S and M, style.” Tabitha appeared to make her cheeks blush, but only to an extent of a light rose, again making herself look as enticing as a siren.

“Okay, can you please step-down Miss Lima, I think we have heard enough.” Judge Danvers stopped the questioning in its tracks.

Tabitha bowed her head as a ‘sign of respect’, then disappearing into the crowd behind Brock, the male members of the jury watching her every step.

“Miss Shuri, Miss Nakia, this is my last call, have you got your third witness?”

Shuri and Nakia looked at each other, Shuri dropped her head, placing her hand across her forehead, staring at the worn wood of her desk.

“No, your honour, they haven’t arrived.” Nakia said, defeatedly.

“Very well. Members of the jury, you have heard all of the testimony concerning this case. It is now up to you to determine the facts. You and you alone, are the judges of the fact. Once you decide what facts the evidence proves, you must then apply The Law as I give it to you to the facts as you find them. I will now call recess whilst the jury take a moment to decide their verdict, please leave the court, whilst the jury deliberate.” Judge Danvers brought down her gavel. People from the back began to filter out, soon Y/N and Steve were walking out, gathering in the foyer.

“What are we going to do, we haven’t given enough statements, did you see the jury’s faces, they don’t believe me, who the hell is Tabitha, I’ve never heard of her, she’s flirted Brock out of jail, what are we going to do.” Y/N buried her head in Steve’s chest, he rubbed up and down her back, quietly shushing her.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, everyone’s done their best, it’s going to be okay. The way Danvers took down Zola’s questioning. I promise, we’re going to be fine.” Steve assured her, kissing her forehead.

“She dismissed Shuri as well though, and the jury are all men, they won’t believe me, where is Peter?” Steve could tell that she was getting more and more worked up, her chest was heaving, and she was clutching at her stomach, her eyes were wide and her skin slightly sweaty.

“Breathe, sweetie, breathe for me.” Steve tried to calm her, “deep breaths, bubba.”

Y/N began to take long, yet jagged breaths, through her nose, eventually calming her down.

After an hour or so, Clerk Carter came from the court room, holding a clipboard.

“Please may the defendant and his representatives, please enter the courtroom, along with the Prosecutions and it’s Plaintiffs.” She ordered, before turning back into the court room, holding the door open, trying not to grit her teeth, as Zola and the rest of Brock’s team, returned to the courtroom.

Y/N and Steve, following behind Shuri and Nakia, back into their benches, and desks.

The jury had filed back out into the courtroom, Judge Danvers had resumed to her bench, her gavel prominent in her hand.

“Have you reached a verdict?” Judge Danvers asked, the man, who had stood as the spokesperson for the jury.

“We have your honour.” The man addressed.

“On the count of violations against the Money Laundering Control Act of 1986, is the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty.”

“On the count of conspiracy to commit murder, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.”

The Prosecution side of the room had erupted into choruses of disgust; Nakia sank back into her chair, her head going to her hands, Mayor T’Challa cursed allowed, making Danvers slam her gravel on the desk.

“Silence.” She demanded, “On the charges of Aggravated Battery, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

Y/N held her breath, Steve did the same, crossing his fingers for his friend’s charge, desperate for justice.

“Guilty.”

Y/N chest became hollow, she looked at Steve, who gave her a look of hope, pushing his forehead against his.

“On the count of violation, the Violence Against Women Act, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

Once again Y/N heart was thudding, she gripped at Steve’s hand, he held her just as tight.

“Not Guilty.”

“On the count of Sexual Battery, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

“Not Guilty.”

Y/N’s world collapsed around her, the once elated feeling, had now transformed into pain and anguish. They didn’t believe she had been raped; they didn’t think that she had been impregnated against her will, they didn’t think she had been beaten.

Steve had frozen next to her, unsure of what her face looked like, as he had his chin resting on her head.

“I will now begin sentencing.” Judge Danvers continued, throw the pounding of Y/N heart.

“Mr Rumlow you have been found guilty of violation the Money Laundering Control Act of 1986, Aggravated Battery, you will be given a two-year suspended sentence, and will be forced to pay Dr Bruce Banner a fine in the amount of $25,000. As well as, be forced to pay the state of New York a fine in the amount of $2 million. 

Y/N doesn’t remember much after that, her vision went blurry, Steve was calling her name, but the only thing clear in her mind, was the grinning face of Brock.

~~~~~~

Steve had carried her most of the way to the hotel, had run her the bath, and then the moment the door had closed, she locked and had now been laying in the frozen water for just over three hours, recounting the moments that had passed.

“Sweetheart, please don’t make me kick the door down, it’s not safe for you to be in the cold water for this long.” Steve bargained, pressing his ear to the door, hoping to hear any sign of movement.

Thankfully he heard the gentle sloshing of the bath, and then the soft click of the lock. Steve was slightly startled, when he opened the door to see Y/N was stood in front of him completely naked, the water rolling off her body, dripping onto the floor.

He relaxed seeing the distant look on her face, making his heart clench, reaching for the towel on the wall, and wrapping her up.

“You’re freezing, bubba,” Steve frowned when he touched her chilled skin, “Let’s get you warmed up.” Steve leads her from the bathroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed grabbing her some changes of clothes.

“Lift your leg, sweetie.” Steve spoke softly. Emotionlessly, she lifted her feet one by one, letting Steve pull his joggers up her legs.

“Arms up.” Y/N lifted her arms, the moment Steve had settled the t-shirt on her chilled figure, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, as she sobbed into his shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart.” Steve sighed, “I’m here, I’m going to look after you and this baby, I promise, nothing will ever happen to you, my gorgeous girl.”

Y/N just pushed her head harder into his chest, wanting his touch and feel to take away her pain.

“Why? Why didn’t they believe me?” Y/N sobbed, her being shaking.

“I don’t know, poppet, I wish I could do something.” Steve had to take his own deep breaths, as he feared he would begin to break down.

Steve lifted her up, and settled her into the bed, remembering to keep her on her side. He was about to crawl in next to her, but then his phone vibrates, and he pulled away, letting her settle herself.

Running to the bathroom he answered the call.

“Hello.” The sound of Bucky’s voice made Steve crumble, he slumped against the door, and the tears began to roll.

“Steve, Steve are you okay? Has something happened to Y/N, the baby?” Bucky’s worried tone, echoes from the receiver, and Steve catches his breath.

“No, no nothing like that. Not guilty. Not guilty to everything, apart from Bruce’s charge, and the money laundering. He’s got away, with fucking everything.” Steve slammed his head on the back of the door, as he recounted the verdict of the court.

“Oh Steve, I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry, when do you guys think you’ll be heading back.” Steve chewed on his lip.

“That’s the thing, Buck. He got a suspended sentence, means no jail time. In the eyes of the law he’s not dangerous, which means we don’t need to stay in a safe house anymore. It means they won’t offer us protection.” Steve croaks, Sam had texted him after the trail, once Shuri had told him what had happened at court.

Steve was pissed, his best friend had told him over the phone, that the NYPD and FBI would no longer be providing protection for him and his family.

“Shit.” Was all Bucky could come up with.

“Buck, I’ve got to go, I’ve put Y/N to bed, but she’s not going to be able to sleep without me.” Steve sighs.

“Okay, bud. I’ll call you in the morning. Take care of that girl, we’ll think of something when I get home, don't worry Stevie, we’ll keep Y/N safe.” 

Steve ended the call, placing his phone back in his pocket, pushing up off the door, he walked back into the room, seeing Y/N was still shivering on the bed, the duvet pulled tight around her neck.

Steve slide in next to her, she eased her grip on the covers, so that he could hook his arms around her belly. Her skin was so cold, it nearly hurt for Steve to touch it.

They laid there for a few more moments, Steve’s hands just gently caressing her bump, trying to warm the skin surrounding the infant.

Then he felt it, it was subtle, but he noticed. A little nudge against the palm of his hand. He sat up, wondering if Y/N had felt it too. When he saw that she hadn’t moved, seeming unphased by the kicking baby in her womb.

“Sweetheart, can you feel that?” Steve tried to encourage some kind of reaction, but she remained still, “Sweetie, I think the baby’s kicking.”

Y/N just kept Steve’s hand close, and eyes fixed on the wall opposite.

Steve realised now was not the time to try and engage with Y/N, and settled back against her, rubbing his hands over her bump, feeling the baby’s little kicks.

“I love you, Y/N.”

A/N: Yes. Yes I did just play with your emotions like that.

Part Nineteen//

Taglist:

@this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @cutie1365 @saiyanprincesswanie @pasaaloquepasaa @emma-is-a-nerd @traumschiffe @putinovertime @vibraniumdaisies @brownsugur @speechlessxx​ @winchester-wifey​ @buckys-forgotten-plum​ @lou-la-lou​ @candy-and-writing​

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #steve angst #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow #dark fic #dark steve fic #dark marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel prompt #domestic abuse #adult themes #reader insert

[coco96]

LDAF - MCU Other

Scott Lang/Antman

Dating Tips (Scott Lang X Reader) Request: Scott Lang being a cute bean and really liking the Reader, he hasn’t been in a relationship in a while and his daughter gives him these typical date-tips (she probably saw these in movies) and Scott actually using them …

Domestic Time (Team Cap X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Civil War Request: ... soft, fluffy, domestic fic with team cap after civil war (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Clint, Vision, Scott) where the reader is a new addition and she’s just making sure that everyone is okay and that what they did was the right thing and that it’ll all work out ...

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Sam Wilson/Falcon

Afterwork Cuddles (Sam Wilson X Reader) Request: … where it’s just them coming back from mission and cuddling on the couch until they fall asleep? And like, SUPER fluffy …

Domestic Time (Team Cap X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Civil War Request: ... soft, fluffy, domestic fic with team cap after civil war (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Clint, Vision, Scott) where the reader is a new addition and she’s just making sure that everyone is okay and that what they did was the right thing and that it’ll all work out ...

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Sharon Carter/Agent 13

One Big Puppy  (Sharon Carter X Fem!Reader) Request: … Sharon (who’s joined the avengers at this point) has a girlfriend who REALLY wants to get a puppy and is high-key short. Sharon low-key wants one too but wants to make sure that they can properly take care of it, so it seems like she doesn’t want one. ...

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Harley Keener

Keeping It Together (Harley Keener X Stark!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of Endgame, mourning Request: Hi could I request a tony stark x daughter!reader / harley keener x reader , where she has to see her dad die in endgame and how she copes with it after. More so how she doesn’t cope with it. Super angsty and sad?

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Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver

Calm Time (Pietro X Fem!Reader) Requests: ... reader grew up with 3 brothers so she knows how to deal with pietro and he kinda fall in love with her? thank you x

Passing The Test. (Pietro X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Death threats, unplanned pregnancy, minor violence. Request: … reader being Tony´s sister. She dates Pietro for a long time and gets pregnant, and the avengers find out (exept tony) and their reaction, and at the end Tony realize because of her tummy and wants to kill pietro but at the end he is proud …

How Do You Ask? (Pietro X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of sex and mild swearing Request: … She is dating Pietro and he wants to take their relationship to the next level (have sex), as she is super nervous go to ask the other older avengers for tips to be more cool when it happens, which lead to the avengers freaking out telling her that she is still too young and confronting Pietro about leaving reader alone …

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Brock Rumlow/Crossbones

Home Early (Rumlow X Daughter!Reader) Warnings: Swearing, fighting Request: ... He kept her away from his work in hydra and they don’t even know she exists. But one day while she was supposed to be in school he has the winter soldier at his house between missions. Being the typical teenager she is she just walks in the room and sees them. ...

Being the daughter of Maria Hill and Brock Rumlow would include… Request: Being the daughter of Maria Hill and Rumlow would include ...

Brock Rumlow having a crush on you would include…

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Maria Hill

Being the daughter of Maria Hill and Brock Rumlow would include… Request: Being the daughter of Maria Hill and Rumlow would include ...

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T’Challa/Black Panther

Happy Anniversary (T’Challa X Wife!Reader) Request: Being T'Challa’s princess? …

Being T’Challa and Nakia’s Daughter and Being Best Friends with Bucky and Wanda’s Daughter Would Include…

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Shuri

Sisterly Assistance (Bucky X Male!Reader) Request: ... Reader is older than Shuri but younger than T’Chala… He was taking care of Bucky with Shuri, and developed a crush on the White Wolf… He decides to tell Shuri about it and she plays match maker with them, because she knows that Bucky likes her brother, too…

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Stephen Strange/Dr. Strange

Staying Up (Dr Strange X Fem!Reader) *PLATONIC Request: Dr Strange as a mentor , with an apprentice reader who wants to earn his approval so bad she stays up nights in the libary learning. He realizes this because his cape tries to warm her and vanishes each night to do so?

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MJ

Meaningful Talk (MJ X Male!Reader) Warnings: Mention of violence Request: MJ x male reader with them cuddling and having a meaningful talk

Prom Date (MJ X Male!Reader) Request: Could you do a MJ(zendaya) x male reader where she introduces the reader and everyone’s astonished that she’s in a relationship

Mirror Image (MJ X Twin!Reader) Request: … Peter sees MJ’s twin (Y/N) and mistakes her identify and leaves embrasssed after declaring she looks prettier today…After feeling embrasssed he walks into the real MJ and MJ bring the snarky person we love, explains why Peter was distracted and later on Peter realizes she has a twin …

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Vision

Singing and Cooking (Vision X Fem!Reader) Request: ... reader always sings and plays the guitar while Vision is cooking. Sometimes he stares at her because he can’t sort out what he’s feeling. One day she catches him and asks what’s wrong and he kind of confess his love to her? ...

Domestic Time (Team Cap X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Civil War Request: ... soft, fluffy, domestic fic with team cap after civil war (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Clint, Vision, Scott) where the reader is a new addition and she’s just making sure that everyone is okay and that what they did was the right thing and that it’ll all work out ...

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Nakia

Being T’Challa and Nakia’s Daughter and Being Best Friends with Bucky and Wanda’s Daughter Would Include…

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Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel

Natasha’s Brother (Carol Danvers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Mention of trauma, mild swearing Request: ... reader is Natasha sibling and a formidable fight so Carol likes to spar with the reader and they both spend ours sparring because reader doesn’t fight fair like Carol and it’s always ends up in them with teasing each other before the reader makes a move.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu x reader #scott lang #sam wilson #sharon carter #harley keener #peitro maximoff #brock rumlow #maria hill #t'challa #shuri #stephen strange #mj #vision #nakia #carol danvers #antman #ant man #falcon #agent 13 #quicksilver #crossbones #tchalla #black panther #dr. strange #dr strange #doctor strange #mary jane #captain marvel #mcu

[nekoannie-chan]

Week 48 Reblog Masterlist

You can check my reading guidelines here.

You can check my masterlist here.

You can check my main reblog masterlist 2022 here.

You can check my November reblog masterlist 2022 here.

You can check my December reblog masterlist 2022 here.

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𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ 💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ 🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ ❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ 💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ 💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 48 2022:

 Steve Rogers X Male Reader X Brock Rumlow X Bucky Barnes by @squippy360​ 🖤 ❤️

Just Steve (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @oh-my-damn​❤️

Fade to Black (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @caplanbuckybarnes​ 💙

My saviour chapter 29: S.H.I.E.L.D. is the safest place to be! (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @talia-rumlow​ 🖤 ❤️💚💙

And she was a Goddess (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sapphire-rogers​ 💚💙

Worry about you (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sarahrogersevans​ 💚

Deep end (Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader) by @nastybuckybarnes​ 🖤💙

Thigh high (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @spectre-posts​ ❤️

Strangers with memories chapter 2: Redecorate the bathroom (original story) by @talia-rumlow 💛

Love on the brain part 7: To have and to hold (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @anika-ann​ 💚💙

SFW alphabet (Jack Rollins X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter​ 💚

Dragonborn (Brock Rumlow) by @druckkugelschreiber​ 💙

Second thoughts (Jack Rollins X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter​ 💚💙

Dating Nico Minoru would include… (Nico Minoru X Reader) by @onegayastronaut​ 💚

Hey handsome (Biker!Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sunshinebuckybarnes​❤️

#Annie recommends #stardust reblog challenge #Annie's 1K Writing Challenge