#rumlow x bucky
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Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Summary: You're part of the Strike team and join Captain America as he tries to live his new life in the 21st century. [Reader is NOT Hydra]
Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader
Warnings: Language. Rumlow being a dick. Mentions of death. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?
Word Count: 2.7K
A/N: Happy New Year! This the first chapter in a new series I'm starting! I'm not sure how long it's gonna be yet, but I know it's gonna be longer than Broken. These series is about an alternate universe where the reader exists and lives through the events that happen in the MCU. A lot of the details will be changed to insert the reader, a lot of the lines said by other characters will be changed to be the reader's and I've also made up a lot of things and scenes and added them, trying my best not to change the official timeline and the main events. I hope you enjoy this and all chapters to come!
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
“You heard the boss, newbie, text Romanoff and tell her to pick up Rogers.” Rumlow taps his knuckles twice on the table for emphasis before getting up and exiting the conference room.
You make sure he doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes at the now old nickname before writing ‘New mission, need you at the jet in one hour. Asshole wants you to pick up the old man in spandex’ on your phone and sending the message to Natasha, then you get up and make your way out of the room.
“Armory.” you say as you enter the elevator.
“Confirmed.” the elevator voice says as the doors start closing.
You suit up for the mission just assigned by Pierce and go to the jet to start doing the checkups you know the rest of the idiots on the STRIKE team won’t even think about doing.
After making sure everything’s ready and in order, you can do nothing more than wait for everybody else.
Natasha and Steve get there exactly an hour after your text.
“Right on time.” you point out.
“It wasn’t a coincidence, YLN.” Natasha smirks, making you laugh.
“Cap.” you greet him with a smile that he returns. “Y/N.”
The rest of the team meets you a few minutes after. “Ready for take off.” Rumlow says to the pilot and the jet takes off.
Once you get close to the target Rumlow starts briefing Steve and Nat. “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago.”
“Any demands?” Steve asks.
“A billion and a half.” Rumlow answers.
“Why so steep?” Steve questions frowning.
“Because it’s Shield’s.” you answer promptly, ignoring the scowl on Rumlow’s face that disappears almost immediately.
“So it’s not off-course,” Steve says, understanding flashing in his eyes as he glares at Natasha “it’s trespassing.”
“I’m sure they have a good reason.” Natasha offers.
“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”-Steve seems really annoyed now.
“Relax, it’s not that complicated.” Natasha simply says.
“How many pirates?” Steve’s attention is back on the screen.
“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc.” Rumlow pulls up the photo of Batroc on the monitor and looks at you expectantly, making you roll your eyes.
Of course you’re the only one who actually looked through the files.
“Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. The guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.” you fill everybody in, although it was obvious most of the guys aren't listening. At least the Captain is.
“Hostages?” Steve questions you, but Rumlow cuts in.
“Mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” he shows his picture. You’ve seen Sitwell around headquarters, he seems pretty close with the STRIKE team. Not that you hang out much with them outside of mission, or at all for that matter. “They’re in the gallery.”
“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asks more to himself, and he has a point. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Y/N, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pots, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”
Yep, he’s definitely in Captain mode.
“Ay ay, Captain.” you salute with a smirk that mirrors Natasha’s while Steve gives you a fake annoyed look.
“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow says but you’ve already started getting ready and stopped listening to him.
“Secure channel seven.” Steve says into his wrist communicator.
“Seven secure.” Natasha replies. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”
“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really.” Steve answers, making both you and Natasha laugh while the pilot lets you know that the drop zone is coming up.
“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.” you point out, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha.
“That’s why I don’t ask.” he fires back
“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pushes.
“Too busy!” He yells over the wind as the door opens and then he jumps.
You and Natasha both roll your eyes and look at each other smiling, not needing to talk to understand the other.
You barely register Rumlow and Rollins commenting on Steve jumping without a parachute before grabbing one for yourself and jumping alongside Nat.
You and Natasha have known each other for a while now, all the way back since she was first brought in by Clint.
You trained with both of them, went on countless missions together (yes, including Budapest) and you would’ve been right by their side in New York if you hadn't been on an important undercover mission and had strict orders directly from Fury not to blow your cover.
After that you got assigned to the STRIKE team by Alexander Pierce, though you still have no idea why. But orders are orders so you’ve been working with the idiots ever since.
But you and Natasha are thankfully still pretty close and your down time is spent mostly with her, sometimes also visiting Clint and his family at his farm.
Nat’s still annoyed at Clint about naming his only daughter after you, middle name but still, and not her. But to be fair, you have known Clint longer, a fact that always amuses both you and Clint to bring up.
You’ve just landed when you hear Rumlow saying “you seemed pretty helpless without me” to Steve.
“What about the nurse who lives across the hall from you?” Natasha says.
“Yeah, she seems nice.” you add.
“Secure the engines, then find me a date.” Steve says in his captain voice.
“We’re multitasking.” Nat tells him before turning to you. “you take port, I’ll take starboard and we’ll meet at the rendezvous point”
“Copy.” you say and make your way to the engine room on the right side of the ship. You start taking down guys and can hear Rumlow saying they’re ready in position.
Just as you finish with the last guy you hear Steve calling your name. “What’s your status?”
“Port engine room secure.” you answer.
“Good, make your way to help Rumlow with the hostages.”
“Roger that.” you can almost hear him groan in annoyance as you smile while following his orders.
“Natasha, what’s your status?” you can hear her grunt while she fights through the comms. “Status, Natasha?”
“Hang on!” She says as she keeps fighting. “Starboard engine room secure.”
You hear Steve countdown from three and then the team moving in on the targets, you get to the rendezvous point just in time to see Rumlow rounding the corner with the hostages on his tail.
“Hostages en route to extradition.” he says in his comms as you look around for Natasha.
“Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.” you let Steve know while helping take care of the hostages.
“Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Y/N and protect the hostages.” he receives no answer and at this point you get a little worried. “Natasha!”
You want to go looking for her but you know better than to leave your post, and you’re also very aware that Natasha can take care of herself.
So you keep protecting the hostages while listening intently to the comms where you can hear Steve fight, then you hear a voice you assume it’s Batroc’s talking French and are even more surprised to hear Steve answer back in French. Impressive.
You can hear him fighting again and then you finally hear Natasha’s voice but don’t pay too much attention to the conversation, bringing your entire focus on the hostages now that you know she’s okay.
You’re helping people into the life-pods when you hear an explosion go off somewhere on the boat. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you hear Natasha’s voice again and let it go, feeling even more relieved after hearing Steve too.
The ride back is very uncomfortable as you help Natasha with the minor injuries from the explosion, Steve refusing help and insisting that he’s fine, and in the mood he’s in you’re certainly not about to argue.
As soon as the jet lands he stomps away angrily and you share a concerned look with Natasha, worried about what he’s gonna do next.
You help Nat to the medbay and leave her there when she assures you she’s okay and to not make a fuss over her.
So you make your way to the usual conference room for debriefing but when you get there Rumlow very smugly assures you that you’re not needed at this meeting.
You’re used to being left out of meetings with the STRIKE team and Pierce by now, since you’ve been forced to join you’ve been left out of more meetings that you’ve attended, but it still bothers you sometimes.
Still, at least you don’t have to spend too much time with those neanderthals. Not your circus, not your monkeys.
So you just make your way to the Armory to put away your gear and then the locker room to change and go home for what you think is gonna be the rest of the day.
-
A few hours later you find yourself in the hospital where the STRIKE team has been called in the middle of the night because, guess what? Someone tried to kill Director Fury. Or, as it turns out, succeeded.
You’re behind Steve, Natasha and Hill alongside Rumlow and Sitwell, watching Fury flatlining and the doctors calling it.
You want to go with Nat to see Fury, be there for her knowing she cared about him as much as you do, but obviously Rumlow has to be a dick and order you to stay put. And, whether you like it or not, he’s your boss.
He rudely interrupts Nat and Steve’s conversation telling him they need him back at headquarters and you can already tell something’s suddenly off.
As much as Rumlow can be an asshole, he’s never been openly rude towards Steve.
You can hear Sitwell in your earpiece telling the team to bring Rogers in for questioning as he and Rumlow get closer.
“STRIKE, move it out.” he orders but you don't start moving until Steve’s by your side, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile.
When you get to the Triskelion Steve is taken to Pierce’s office and you get ordered to go to Forensics and check into the evidence found on the roof, then go to Operations Control and wait for there for further instructions, so you do.
When you get to the control room you see Sitwell concentrated on a particular screen so you get close trying not to get noticed and see Steve fighting STRIKE and SHIELD agents in the elevator.
You barely have time to understand what’s happening before he’s throwing himself off the elevator and lands on his shield near the entrance of the building. Thankfully Sitwell’s “Are you kidding me?” covered your quiet “holy shit.”
You’re in the room when Sitwell gives the orders to track down Rogers to all the Agents and when he’s done, you discreetly follow him and the rest of the STRIKE team out the room.
For a bunch of guys who work for a top secret organization they sure suck at knowing when they’re being followed.
No one talks until they get to a deserted corridor. “Pierce is going to kill us. Rogers has the flash drive and can use it to find Zola. You fucked up big time letting him go.” Sitwell sounds pissed.
“Take it easy, four eyes.” Rumlow sounds just as angry “You’re not the one that got punched by a supersoldier.”
They keep talking about the flash drive and Steve and Pierce and Zola. That name sounds familiar but you can’t remember for the life of you where you heard it from.
Then it hits you.
Zola was a former Hydra scientist from World War II, turned ally when the war ended. Thank god the Howling Commandos were hot so you actually paid attention during that particular history class.
You're about to turn away so you won’t risk getting caught eavesdropping when you hear your name being mentioned.
“Someone should keep an eye on her.” Sitwell says, making you worried of becoming the next Shield target, but Rumlow proceeds to ease your worries.
“That’s a waste of manpower. The whole reason she’s even on our team was so we could keep a closer eye on Rogers, but she just spends all her time with Romanoff.”
So that’s why Pierce assigned you to the STRIKE team.
Yeah, you’re closer to Steve than most people but it’s not like you’re best friends, you sometimes hang out outside of work but most of your interactions are mission related.
You decide you've heard enough to kind of put together what’s going on, but there’s not much you can do to help Steve yet, not knowing where he is. So you stick to following the STRIKE team, praying that your absence in the control room goes unnoticed.
STRIKE gets a hit on Steve’s location and you follow them in your car to a mall but think better than to follow them in, waiting patiently outside.
After a few minutes you see Steve and Natasha in their not so well thought out undercover outfits and, once again, the Captain surprises you by hot-wiring a car.
You follow them, more discreetly this time, knowing Natasha and Steve would be better at realizing they’re being followed.
You get to an old army camp in Wheaton, New Jersey and are about to follow them in and make yourself known to them, but before you can get out of your car you hear the plan the STRIKE team has through your comms.
The idiots never even thought about using a different channel. Of course Rumlow would underestimate you this much.
So you decide to drive deeper into the trees surrounding the camp to make sure you’re not visible and wait, knowing Steve and Natasha will need a fast getaway.
You can do nothing more than watch as a missile hits the bunker and the helicopters start coming. You want to go and help them, make sure they're okay, but you will yourself to stay put and not give away your position.
When you can faintly see Steve’s figure, almost running with what looks like Nat in his arms, you finally turn the car on and drive coming to a stop right in front of him and startling him to a stop on his tracks.
“Get in.” you urge him, and he seems wary of you, rightly so. “Come on, Cap, they can’t know I’m here!”
He seems to decide to risk trusting you and delicately sets an unconscious Nat down in the back seat before getting in the passenger’s seat.
As soon as his door is closed you drive away as fast as you can, heading back to Washington and you can feel Steve’s eyes on you.
“How do I know I can trust you?” he finally says after a minute of silence, his eyes never leaving you. “You’re part of them, after all.”
“I can see where you’re coming from, but trust me I’m not one of them.” You glance at him and you can tell that he’s not convinced yet, so you go on. “I didn’t even know who ‘them’ were before today. Apparently the reason Pierce assigned me to the STRIKE team was in hopes to get closer to you. He overestimated how close we actually are. If Natasha was awake right now she would tell you how much I hate working with those assholes… You can trust me.”
You take a look at the rearview mirror and see Natasha, but her relaxed face does nothing to ease your worries.
Steve seems to pick up on your concerns as his features soften and, ever the hopelessly optimistic, he chooses to believe you.
“Okay,” he says, “what do we do now?”
“We have to get you somewhere safe” you check your mirrors as much as you can, making sure you’re not being followed “I don’t know any safehouses outside of Shield's radar. We need a place we can go that they know nothing about.”
“I have an idea.” he says, you glance at him and see him already looking at you, so you nod.
#bucky barnes#avengers x reader#sam wilson#steve rogers#clint barton#natasha romanoff#avengers x platonic!reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu#nick fury#marvel#maria hill#captain america#captain america the winter soldier#captain america: the winter soldier#the winter soldier#shield#hydra#brock rumlow#alexander pierce
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SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 195 & 196
A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 35 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.
As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community. 💜💜
Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.
Click HERE for past reading lists.
For my Masterlist click HERE.
Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.
Page-break by @whimsicalrogers
Header by @fictional-affairs
If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.
I love you 3000 💜 Missy
Morning Cravings - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie
Ethereal Part 5 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420
Thoughts - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan
Revenge - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan
Late Night - (Andy x Reader) - @katherineswritingsblog
It Was Sunday - (Bucky x Reader) - @ellemj
Wrecked (Part 3) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim
Competition 2.0 - (Lloyd x Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x Reader) - @holylulusworld
Love and Flowers - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog
Ethereal Part 6 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420
Reconnect - We’ll Always Be Friends - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
Switched Sides part 5 - @deliciousangelfestival
Flood - (Bucky x Reader x Steve) - @biteofcherry
Alone again - (Jack R) - @nekoannie-chan
Evermore: Prologue - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog
Evermore: Part. One - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog
Lost in the Dark (Part 2) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim
Helicarrier - (Steve) - @nekoannie-chan
Your Mark On Me - Part 7 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513
Monkey See, Monkey Do - Chapter 15 - @spectre-posts @what-is-your-plan-today
Indecent Proposal (1) - (Stucky x Reader)- @holylulusworld
Promises To Keep - (Andy x Reader) - @americasass81
Winning - (Brock x Reader, Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan
Advantages - @nekoannie-chan
The Tarzan to my Jane - (Ari x Reader) - @nicoline1998enilocin
Release Me Pt. 4 - (Andy x Reader) - @labella420
Opportunity - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan
In the Boss’s Grip - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420
Teased and Tied - (Bucky x Reader) - @rookthorne
Aftermath - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog
Two Bosses Part 11 - (Ransom x Reader) - @labella420
Wrecked (Part 4) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim
Just Like That - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
Collared part 39 - @spnexploration
Collared part 40 - @spnexploration
#saiyanprincessswanie#recommended reading#missy reads#missy reblogs#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#ari levinson x reader#andy barber x reader#frank castle x reader#lloyd hansen x reader#stucky x reader#brock rumlow#jack rollins#billy russo x reader#ransom drysdale x reader
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The Color of Blood [2]
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warning: angst, canon level violence, cursing, oh did I mention angst?
Word Count: 3,372
Summary: In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.
There were some people out in this wild, wild world who didn’t know what it was like to slowly wake up with a concussion, in an unknown room, surrounded by people who meant you harm. Unfortunately, you were not one of those people. Double unfortunately, you were finding yourself in that position again.
You blinked your blurry eyes a few times, trying to make the world stop spinning, and when things finally did become clear it took you a second to remember what had happened. Not the being attacked on a bridge thing. The suddenly being able to see color thing. You couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of shock. The room around you was so vibrant and sharp. It made you wish you had the time to fully absorb this new view of the world.
You didn’t though because suddenly you were being hit in the face again.
With a hiss of pain, your head snapped to the side and before you could do anything someone roughly grabbed the front of your shirt and yanked you off the ground into a seated position.
“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Rumlow grinned at you.
“Being stuck staring at your ugly mug,” You spat at him, “I kind of wish I was back in the world of the dead.”
The traitorous agent chuckled, “Oh, don’t say that. I thought we were friends, Agent.”
“That was before I found out you were HYDRA scum.” This time you literally spat at him.
Rumlow threw you aside with a growl as he swiped at his face. You threw your foot forward to kick out his knee. He crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain and you got up to run past him, but his rough hand wrapped around your ankle causing you to hit the floor again.
Your already concussed brain groaned at the impact, but you didn’t stop swinging. You kicked your leg out, trying to make contact with Rumlow’s stupid face, but he army crawled across the ground until he was lying on top of you. His hands pinned down your wrists as he sat on your hips.
Rumlow gave you a sickening smile, “No need to play rough.”
“Fuck,” You spoke between clenched teeth, “You.”
“You wanna know what I just got back from?” Rumlow replied.
“Therapy?”
Rumlow’s hands tightened around your wrists, “I was out burying your little friends.” You felt your entire body tense as your jaw clenched down. “Don’t worry. I remember exactly where we put ‘em. Just in case you wanna visit their unmarked graves one day. That is if we don’t put you beside them.”
“God, you just talk way too much.” You growled. There was no part of you that thought Brock Rumlow of all people had finally brought your friends down. Maybe it was blind faith, but you were sticking by it.
The sound of a door opening made Rumlow push up off of you, but you held back on going onto the offense. The door had swung open because a whole new squad of HYDRA goons had strolled in. At the head of the pack was Alexander Pierce. Somehow seeing him in color made you hate him all the more.
Pierce called out your full name then hummed with a polite smile. As if he was casually running into you at SHIELD headquarters rather than looming over you as the hidden HYDRA thug in charge. “I am so happy to see you here.”
You shakily got to your feet, in a defensive position, “You come a step closer, and I will kill you.”
“There’s no need for that.” Pierce clicked his tongue in disappointment.
Alexander Pierce had been your hero. You hadn’t worked with him personally in quite some time, but he was the one to recommend your recruitment to SHIELD in the first place. Where the world saw anger, chaos, and delinquency, he saw potential. He got you into the field agent academy and put you on the path to who you were today. Nick Fury’s pride and joy was Natasha Romanoff. You were Alexander Pierce’s.
He stopped a few steps in front of you and the only thing holding you back from clawing his face off were the agents right behind him with guns. Pierce stuck his hands into his suit pockets, “I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m not sure why the asset brought you here, but I couldn’t be happier. You belong here. With us.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, but you do.” Pierce smirked. “Why do you think I recruited you in the first place? I saw exactly what you could be from the start. You can do the world a lot more good from this side than the one you’re on.”
You scoffed, “Says the man who’s planning on slaughtering a few billion people.”
“Necessary sacrifices.” Pierce shook his head in disappointment. “Sometimes if you want to change the world you have to get your hands dirty. I taught you better than to think so small.”
“You didn’t teach me shit.” You snapped. “Your name might be on my entry paperwork, but I am not your puppet, and I never will be.”
Pierce sighed and you watched him move his jaw to the right and left as he thought. You recognized the look of irritation he wore. He nodded once and Rumlow was on you again. The agent grabbed you by the back of the neck and shoved the end of his handgun to your temple. The older man stepped closer again so he was right in your personal space, “Why did the asset bring you here?”
“He’s your asset. You tell me.” You replied with a raised eyebrow. Telling him the truth about your apparent soulmate seemed like a very bad idea. Pierce must have recognized the determination in your eyes. He clenched his jaw and walked toward the open door to the left, opposite from the one he came into. Pierce made a motion with his hand and Rumlow dragged you after him.
The next room looked like it used to be the back of a bank. The walls were covered in small, locked vaults. In the center of the room though was a strange set up. A chair surrounded by technology. In said chair though, was your soulmate. The Winter Soldier. Men in lab coats fluttered around him, but you couldn’t look away from the man in the chair.
The Winter Soldier was shirtless and slumped over with a look of confusion and fear on his features. It didn’t suit the mental image you had constructed of who this man was. His eyes were blue. That stood out to you. Red and blue were the only two real colors you were able to recognize and name at this point. The Winter Soldier’s blue eyes were mixed with some form of gray making them look stormy. It was hypnotizing, but the pain in them was distracting. Your eyes slid away from his eyes to where the metal arm was hooked to his body. Ugly, red scars decorated his shoulder where metal met flesh. It looked painful.
“Sir, he’s unstable.” One of the men working on the computers said, “Erratic.”
It was only then that you started to connect dots. They called this man an asset, yet he was seated in some sort of contraption, confused and lost, while his fellow agents had him surrounded at gunpoint? That seemed less asset and more prisoner to you. It also bothered you that you recognized his face still. It was familiar, at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite place it.
“Mission report.” Pierce said. The Winter Soldier stared ahead at nothing. As if he were in a daze. “Mission report now.”
Pierce slid his glasses off, sliding them into his coat pocket, then he stepped forward to stand in front of the Soldier. He bent down just a bit and after a beat of silence the older man backhanded the Winter Soldier across the face. You physically flinched at the motion as your heart raced in your chest. You weren’t sure if your reaction was from watching your supposed soulmate get so casually slapped or from the gnawing fear in your stomach that something was very wrong here. This entire situation wasn’t what you originally thought it to be.
The Winter Soldier looked back to Pierce, more life in his eyes, “The man on the bridge. Who was he?”
“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.” Pierce replied.
The Winter Soldier’s voice was softer than you thought possible, “I knew him.”
Pierce rolled a stool over and sat down, “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century…”
The traitorous old bastard continued to talk, but you stared at the Winter Soldier’s face. Steve had frozen in shock. The Soldier knew him. Finally, it dawned on you. The realization felt like a sucker punch to your chest, all the air seemed to be knocked out of you. Of course, you recognized his damn face. You had just been at the ‘Captain America and the Howling Commandos’ exhibit with Steve just earlier this week.
“You’re Bucky Barnes.” You cried out in shock.
The Winter Soldier—no, Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet yours as if he was just realizing you were in this room too. Pierce barked out a curse to you, but Rumlow was the one to punish. The man slammed the butt of his handgun into the side of your face and threw you to the ground. His boot kicked your gut before you could even focus on the throbbing of your face. The blow to your temple left your ears ringing again as you tried to focus, and the next sound that came to you was yelling. You glanced up to see that Bucky had lunged across the room to you and he now held Rumlow by the man’s neck as he crushed him into the wall.
Rumlow was gasping for breath, clawing at the metal hand crushing his windpipe, while Pierce screamed at all the soldiers to not shoot. Nothing the old man or the scientists said made your soulmate stop. Rumlow’s face was turning blue and his desperate movements were slowing.
Pierce held a gun to your face, “Say his name now. Get him to stop.” You glared back at Pierce, lips pressed tightly together. He could shoot you if you wanted. You’d die happy with your last sight being Rumlow suffocating to death. Pierce locked his jaw then turned to hold the gun to the back of Bucky’s head. Your eyes widened. “Now, Agent!”
You had no other options. You were backed into a metaphorical corner.
“Bucky!” You called out.
Steve’s old friend released his grip on Rumlow. The agent fell to his knees gasping for breath while Bucky backpedaled in shock. You didn’t know what they did to the poor man, but he looked so lost. It was like every other moment he was trying to grasp where or who he was. Other agents grabbed him, and he didn’t fight back as they dragged him back to the chair. Before he could sit back up, they clamped metal rungs over his arms to lock him in.
“What the fuck was that!?” Pierce roared at you. He reached down and yanked you up in anger, “Why the hell did he bring you here with him!?” Pierce just stared you down and you tried to keep your face as blank as possible, but you could see the gears turning in his head. His eyes widened after a moment and you prayed it wasn’t for the reason you thought it was. Pierce nodded once and walked over to Bucky. He pointed the gun at him again, “What color are his eyes?”
You shook your head, “How am I supposed to know that?”
“Tell me the color of his fucking eyes.”
“I don’t know!” You yelled. Pierce wouldn’t shoot his asset, right?
Pierce lowered his weapon and you held back a breath of relief. Instead, the man motioned to one of the agents, “Start cutting off fingers on his right hand.”
Your eyes blew wide in panic, more than a trained agents’ probably should, but it was a scientist that spoke up, “Sir—!”
“He can still complete mission a few fingers short!” Pierce barked.
An agent walked over and pulled a knife from his belt. You tried to hold back, but the moment the agent’s knife pressed against Bucky’s skin you blurted the word out, “Blue!” Pierce gave you a sinister smile and you your entire chest ache. “He has blue eyes. Please don’t— Pierce, please.”
“Soulmates.” Pierce nodded with a chuckle. “Wow. Who would’ve guessed it? Your fated soulmate is a man who should’ve died 70 years ago. Huh.”
“What did you do to him?” You seethed.
“We made him the perfect weapon.” Pierce shrugged. He sat back down onto his stool. “The real question is… now what?”
“Sir.” The head scientist, you assumed since he had spoken the most, stepped forward with a gleam in his eyes, “I think we can use this to our advantage. We’ve been running into roadblocks with the asset. The longer he’s out of cryo, the harder it is to control him, but with his soulmate here…”
You clenched your hands into fists. Absolutely not. You’d die before being used as a part of this man’s torture. Your soulmate’s torture. Your thoughts were interrupted when an arm suddenly wrapped around your throat and lifted your feet off the ground. You clawed at the arm, knowing it was Rumlow behind you based on his angry growls in your ear, and tried to kick back at him futilely.
Bucky strained against the locks around his arms, his blue eyes burning with rage, and the scientist motioned to him, “See!”
“Rumlow.” Pierce said, but the man’s arm tightened around your throat. “Rumlow!”
Finally, you were released and when he dropped you, you stumbled to your knees gasping for air. You forced yourself to look up and your eyes met Bucky’s again. The rage had simmered into misery. You weren’t sure how present he was, how aware of the situation around him, but the sadness in his eyes was dreadful. Bucky was broad and large, significantly larger than you, but he looked so small in that chair. You had never felt such a strong urge to pull someone into your arms and whisper comforts to them. This wasn’t a man you knew. Not really. No more than the facts Steve told you or the fact that he was your soulmate, but you ached to bring him relief.
“Prep him.” Pierce commanded.
The scientist shook his head, “He’s been out of cryo freeze too long.”
“Then wipe him and start over.” Pierce replied and you watched as Bucky’s face crumpled in a mix of defeat and pain.
“Please, sir, I’m telling you.” The scientist tried to argue. “We use his soulmate to our advantage. His mission isn’t a success? Then she’s punished as well. The mission goes perfectly? He’s rewarded with time with her.”
You shot a glare to the scientist talking with his stupid bow tie. If you survived this, if you got the chance, you were gonna beat the shit out of him right after you dealt with Rumlow and Pierce.
As you mentally planned his fate, Pierce walked back over to you and reached his hand out. You refused to flinch as he let his hands trace the side of your face. He shook his head, “A stick always works better than a carrot. Wipe him now.” His lips curled up into a cruel smile. “And you, Agent, I want you to watch. You only just met, but I hear soulmates can bond extraordinarily fast.”
He gripped your chin tightly and snapped your head to watch as the scientists began to move about. The one with a bowtie grabbed a black mouth guard and brought it over to Bucky. Your soulmate’s jaw clenched briefly, eyes flared in determination, as he opened his mouth and let the scientist place the mouth guard in. They pressed a button, the seat lowered just a hair, and the large, metal circle behind him began to spin downward. Bucky’s chest was heaving with each breath.
You struggled against Pierce’s hand, “No. Don’t!” The arms of the circle stretched out as electricity bounced from site to site on the inner surface of the arms. The inner surfaces closed in to cover portions of Bucky’s face. You tried to tear yourself away, but your body was too weak to get the momentum it needed, “Stop it!”
The metal plates clamped down on Bucky’s face and you could briefly hear the humming of electricity. That sound was immediately washed out by the sickening screams coming from your soulmate. It was gut wrenching. Watching a man be tortured was rough, you had dealt with that before on a mission gone bad, but this was different. This was in a league of its own. You felt hot tears roll down your face as you clenched your eyes shut. That did nothing to drown out Bucky’s screams though. For the remainder of your life, however long that might end up being, you’d never be able to forget that sound. You’d never forget the absolute pain and agony and despair in every single scream that filled the air and cut through you like a hot knife.
And it just kept going and going and going.
It felt like a million years had come and gone.
Pierce let go of your face and you collapsed to your hands and knees. The scene had ended. Whatever it was they did to him had ended, but the screaming hadn’t. You could still hear it echoing in your head. Bouncing around your skull. Pierce knelt down beside you with a hum, “This is your last chance. Reach your full potential. Come with me. Help me change the world.”
You forced your head up so you could glare at the old man kneeling beside you. Never had you hated someone as much as you hated this man. Your training told you what you needed to do. Play the game. Tell Pierce what he wanted to hear. Go along with him until you found your moment to end him. You knew that. You knew that, but God, all you felt right now was rage. Your blood boiled under your skin. Your fury wouldn’t let you play this smart. You couldn’t even pretend to appease this man.
Regardless of what the consequence would be, you lunged forward and clawed at his face. Your nails caught his skin and dragged down enough to leave three long scratches down the side of his right face. Pierce howled in pain and then kicked you in the face. You went sprawling onto your back, blood pouring from your now broken nose.
“Such a waste.” Pierce spat at you. You groaned in pain and sat up just enough to watch as Bucky was released from his chair. The old man used his pocket square to blot at the bleeding scratches on his face. “Soldier?”
“Ready to comply.” Bucky said in an emotionless voice. It wasn’t Bucky anymore. It was the Winter Soldier again.
“You will kill Captain America. You will not let him reroute the helicarriers.” Pierce said gruffly. He glanced over at me and threw his bloody pocket square at me, “But you can start by killing her.”
You watched Pierce and Rumlow, along with the other agents, stalk out of the room without even a single look over their shoulders. Your face still ached, and you could feel blood running down the back of your throat. You slowly turned to look back at your soulmate to see he had risen from the chair and was now staring down at you. The stormy blue eyes were cold and lifeless. He began to march toward you while clenching and unclenching his metal hand.
You scrambled back as he continued to march toward you.
There was no recognition in his eyes.
Just malice.
Just the mission.
[previous chapter] [next chapter]
#marvel#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#winter soldier#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x reader#reader insert#Female reader#agent reader#brock rumlow
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Pretty Little Thing Part 9
18+ Minors dni
Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage)
Other characters: Sam, Peter, Steve, Thor, Nat, Clint, Loki, Walker
Here is part 9. Things come to a head when Rumlow took back what’s his, but were you ever really his to being with? Also time for a character reveal.
Warnings: forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, violence, kidnapping, fluff
(Some bits of this felt a little rushed but I really wanted to get this part out because I’m also working on part 10!)
Word count: 2.4k
Part 8
If Rumlow wanted to come after you, then he should have come after him.
Bucky replayed the video from the security footage around his property. Rage pumped through his veins, seeing your limp body tossed over Rumlow’s shoulder, throwing you into a van and screeching off. You were supposed to be safe with him. The clicks of guns and the sound of loading of bullets filled the room as the rest of the team suited up to come find you; Bucky was done with peace. He tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants, the screen of his phone lighting up with Nat’s number.
“We already checked two of his other warehouses, they’re empty. He might’ve taken her to the storage at the docks; Barton and I are headed there now”
Sam, Thor and Steve followed Bucky out of his office, making their way to the vans where Peter was already waiting, his jaw ticking.
“Peter, stay here with May” Bucky was about to send him back inside, but Peter shook his head, his stance unwavering. “Parker, it’ll be danger-
“No, I’m coming” He shrugged, pulling away and climbing into one of the SUV’s, impatiently waiting to put a bullet through someone. Steve could tell by the way Bucky swallowed thickly, something was eating at him. He twirled his knife between his fingers, a habit it picked up when he got nervous.
“Spit it out punk”
Bucky shook his head but Steve gave him a pointed look, staying rooted in place until his best friend told him what he was thinking.
“I love her”
“Mind telling me something, everyone wasn’t already aware of” Steve snorted, shaking his head.
“If anything happens…make sure she’s taken care of. Save her first”
Steve wanted to argue and tell him everything would be fine but he knew it was pointless. He nodded while Bucky’s jaw clenched as everyone else jointed, ready to leave.
“I’m killing him” Bucky’s voice was a growl, his body tense while Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze as they got into the back, the SUV doors slamming shut.
“C’mon, let’s go get your girl”
*****
Loki and Walker looked at each other while Rumlow paced around the room, growing more and more unhinged by the second. He had all his men surround the building, while Loki and Walker were assigned to guard you. He grinned, watching your eyes flutter open, your head throbbing from the sedatives he pumped you with.
“My pretty little thing”
You winced, your hands numb from the harsh ropes digging tightly into your skin. You were tied to a metal beam in the middle of a warehouse, the walls made entirely from concrete; no one would hear you scream. The faint smell of metallic copper and alcohol lingered in the air; you knew exactly where you were. His favourite place for business deals. The easiest place to dispose bodies. You felt bile rise in your throat as he brushed his lips against your temple, his body pressing against yours.
“Did you miss me doll?” You refused to meet his eyes even when he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. A permanent scar ran down his face from when you had hit his face with a bottle. His hot breath fanned on your, groaning as he inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume. “You smell good, so good. Look at what you started sweetheart, this mess I have to clean up, all because you couldn’t keep your legs closed” Rumlow tsked, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I lost a few of my men already, all just for you”
“This isn’t my fau-
The sound of his hand slapping your cheek echoed through the room, his chest heaving. You wanted to spit in his face, tears stinging your eyes, your skin hot from where his palm met your cheek.
“It is your fucking fault” He hissed, his teeth grazing your cheek. “You’re MY wife, MINE. YOU’RE MARRIED TO ME, I’D RATHER SEE YOU DEAD THAN LET HIM HAVE YOU” Walker flinched, watching Rumlow raise his hand to strike you again but Loki grabbed his wrist before he could touch you.
“If you kill her now, we lose leverage” He whispered, tugging Rumlow a few steps away from you. You rolled your eyes, smirking to yourself, enjoying the reactions you got from him. If you were going to die, might as well make him suffer too.
“He. Can’t. Have. YOU” Rumlow growled, his hands balled into fists; he knew he had to keep you alive until Bucky got there but he wanted to wrap his hands around your throat so badly, flashes of you spread out and moaning for him clouding his mind.
“He’s already had me” You sneered, licking off a drop of blood that tinged your lips. “I might be married to you but it’s him that I want”
“Boss don’t let her get to you” Walker warned, hearing the screeching of tires approaching the area. His heart was already racing, he knew he’d signed up for many things but dealing with Bucky’s blood lust wasn’t one of them. Loki grabbed Rumlow and held him back while you continued to taunt him, not holding back on a single thing you let Bucky do to you.
“You know I let him cum wherever he wants, dripping all over his bed”
“You better stop y/n” Rumlow hissed, but you didn’t care, your eyes locked with his.
“I know how he tastes”
“You fucking whore” Loki had to drag him back as he tried to lunge for you again, his hand desperate to reach for his gun.
“I let him fuck me the first time I stayed with him. He didn’t even have to ask”
“YOU FUCKING BITCH-” Before he could fight Loki to get to you, the faint sound of gun shots caught his attention, pulling away from Loki, his lips curving upwards. “You’re little boytoy is here” He sneered, locking and loading his gun, striding over to grasp your face in his hands.
“First I’m going to kill him in front of you” His lips brushed your cheek, while his other hand trailed down your body, grasping the soft flesh of your thighs. His breath fanned on your neck, moving to whisper in your ear, gripping the back of your hair “then I’ll show you how a real man fucks”
*****
“PARKER, WILSON, GO COVER THE NORTHERN SIDE” Steve shot down the men that charged towards them while Bucky shot two perfect rounds into the two guards at the front, before taking down a few more of Rumlow’s men. There was no slow build up; as soon as the cars screeched to a halt, the echoing of bullets rang through the air. Sam and Peter sprinted off to the front of the warehouse; Peter was going to make use of every single bullet he loaded without leaving any to spare. Nat and Clint had already covered the south wing while Thor and Steve joined Bucky’s side, searching for you.
The three men made their way down the dimly lit hall way, straight to the main metal doors that led to the center of the warehouse. Bucky had never felt fear and anger like this before, where he could feel his blood coursing through his body. He didn’t care what happened to him, killing Rumlow was a secondary issue; he just needed to see you alive and breathing.
As soon as they reached the doors, he burst through them, chest heaving, jaw clenched. You were the first thing his eyes fell on; you were alive. Cuts and bruises littering your body, you clothes were nearly in shreds. He couldn’t stand the way you were tied up, dark bruises from where Rumlow had his hands on you scattered on your arms and thighs but right now all that mattered to him was that you were alive. Loki stood near you while Walker joined Rumlow’s side. Rumlow grinned at the three men, his mind conflicting between killing Bucky on the spot or making him watch while he took you apart.
“Are you here for someone Barnes”
“My girl”
Walker felt an eerie chill watching Bucky silently stalk towards them, his eyes completely dark, void of emotion. His finger was already on the trigger, itching to put a bullet in Rumlow’s mouth but he wasn’t going to risk anything with you still there. Ironically, Rumlow felt the same; he couldn’t have you die in a shoot out when he didn’t get his way with you yet. His eyes switched between Steve, Thor and Bucky, all three men armed. He had to get you out first, before killing them off.
“Loki, take y/n, GO, GET OUT” Rumlow commanded, unwilling to let Bucky or any of his men rescue you when he finally got you back. He kept his eyes locked on Bucky, his chest heaving when he continued to stalk towards him. “Banres, don’t take another ste-
Rumlow whipped his gun out, his blood running cold when he heard the click of a pistol from behind him, the cold metal suddenly against his temple. Loki pressed it against Rumlow’s head, his lips curved upward into a smirk.
“Loki, what the fuck are you doing” He hissed, his eyes growing wide, feeling the barrel press further into his skin.
“I’m simply doing as I was asked” Loki smiled, while Walkers eyes grew wide, swallowing thickly, leaving Rumlow’s side and inching towards the door.
“Brother” Thor nodded at Loki, before blocking the exist, preventing Walker from escaping.
“Who the fuck asked you to do this” Rumlow spat, his blood running cold at the satisfied smirk Bucky had on his face.
“My boss James Barnes” Loki whispered, nearly cackling, he could practically hear Rumlow’s heart race “I don’t suppose you looked into my last name”
“Laufeyson” Rumlow growled through gritted teeth, his empire slipping from under his teeth.
“I see you never heard of the Odinson brothers” Loki tsked, while Thor snorted as his brothers mischief. “Now drop the guns”
How anger surged through Rumlow, dropping the gun on the floor while Loki kicked it over and stepped aside, allowing Bucky to have his way. Steve rushed over to you, taking you off to the side while Bucky finally lunged for Rumlow. Sam and Peter ran into the warehouse having cleared what was left of the other guards.
“You shouldn’t have taken her” Bucky threw a punch to his jaw, earning a satisfying crack, while Rumlows rings cut through his cheek. Bucky kicked him from under, sending him to the floor, unable to hold back anything any longer.
He hurt you.
Bucky’s fist connected with his face repeatedly.
Took you from him.
Abused you.
He made sure Rumlow’s vision was clouded with blood, he didn’t even have the right to look at you.
His sweet baby.
You didn’t deserve any of this.
He broke each of his fingers with a satisfying snap, the pained cries only adding to his satisfaction.
He’d never let that monster touch you again.
“This ends now-
Bucky winced, feeling the knife slice into his side as Walker plunged it into him before getting shot down by Peter.
“You’ll- Rumlow grinned, blood staining his teeth.”-You’ll never get my wife” he hissed, gasping for air when Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. “I’m-I’m the one that-the on that married her”
“You may have married her but I love her” Bucky threw Rumlow to the floor, catching the gun Steve tossed to him, pointing it between Rumlow’s eyes. “You’re never hurting her again”
5 bullets. 1 would have been enough but the 4 were just to be sure.
“Dispose of him” Bucky ordered, while Sam and Peter happily dragged Rumlow’s lifeless form off to the side of the warehouse. Bucky ran to you where you sat with Steve, tears streaming down your face looking at the blood that soaked his side.
“M’here baby, look at me Angel, you’re safe”
“James!” You were hardly able to stand, but you pushed yourself to your feet, your hand pressing against the gash on his side. “You got hurt because of me-
“Shhhh, y/n, careful” His arms wrapped around you, slipping his blazer off and wrapping it around your body. You tried hard to stay standing, your knees giving way, letting him scoop you in his arms, setting you down on one of the crates. “I’m here for you angel”
He looked over your body to see if there were any injuries he missed, but you were impatient. You just wanted to be in his arms again and take care of the cuts that now littered his body.
“James, please, you’re bleeding” You tried to plead with him but he smiled softly at you, carrying you in his arms again.
“Hardly a scratch angel” Your arms clung around his neck, breathing in his scent, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as he carried you back to the van. “Lets go home doll”
You could finally go home.
He was your new home.
Steve, and the rest followed behind while you clung onto him for dear life, refusing to let go, sitting in his lap as he sat in the back. You were joined with Thor, Peter and Loki while Sam sat at the front with Steve. Your heart raced, seeing the man who Rumlow had guard your locked room for days. Granted, something about him never made you feel unsafe. You remembered the many times he had stepped in before Rumlow could touch you. Bucky felt your body tremble slightly, rubbing your back soothingly, kissing your forehead.
“I sent Loki to watch over you angel. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know what he was doing to you” You peeked over at the man with dark raven hair, an apologetic smile gracing his face.
“James sent me to watch over you after Rumlow locked you away. I apologize for not telling you anything or being able to do more. We didn’t want him growing suspicious and endanger you”
“Thank you” You whispered, snuggling further in Bucky’s hold. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him again. You knew he would keep you safe. You fell asleep, tucked in his arms, stirring awake again when you felt the cool night air hit your skin. He held you close to him, carrying you up the drive way and through the doors of his home, taking you right to his room so he could take care of you. Just like he always did.
“Welcome home my sweet doll”
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#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#brock rumlow#mob brock Rumlow#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x f!reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky#bucky barnes mob au#mob bucky au#mob steve#mob bucky x you#mob bucky x freader#mob bucky x y/n#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x you#mob bucky fluff#mob bucky angst#james bucky barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction
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Private Show
Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, cheating, body image issues and insecurity, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You find your husband at the strip club but he’s the least of your concerns.
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Note: @slyyywriting had to fuck me up today.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Tom Nook loves collecting rent. Take care. 💖
Why are you here? Are you crazy? Has he finally driven you over the edge?
You drop your head into your hands, elbows against the steering wheel as you try to collect yourself. As if it isn’t humiliating enough. It’s the last straw. You can’t do it anymore. You won’t.
You suck in a shuddery breath and sit up, gripping the ridged leather of your rusty beater. You see the silver Lexus, his new baby just across the lot. The flashing marquee with the woman in shock at her own nudity mocks you, casting red through your windshield. Your lip trembles, hold it together, bitch.
You look down at yourself, the sweatpants still damp with dishwater, the loose cotton tee barely hidden beneath an unzipped hoodie, and a pair of scuffed Walmart sneakers. You’re at home, scrubbing dishes, cleaning up his dirty socks, cooking a dinner that will only go cold, and he’s out here in his overpriced sportscar dropping money on strippers.
A cold trickle flows down your spine. Well, why wouldn’t he? You let yourself go. You’ve become the ratty, miserable, tired wife who can barely keep the floors swept. You wake up, go to work, come home and clean, then have nothing left to give him. The extra pounds don’t help either. You tug up the hem of your shirt and trace the new stretch mark.
Disgusted, you force yourself out of the car. You still have a shred of dignity. You snap the door shut and shove the jangly keys in the hoodie pocket. You drag your hands down your face and shake out your arms, building your nerve.
You march across the lot and approach the bouncer standing by the doors. His arms are crossed over his large chest as he gives a grimace to the world. He notices you and his square forehead wrinkles. You almost want to turn and run.
“’scuse me, ma’am,” he stops you with a raised palm, “you in the right place?”
You inhale and nod, “yes,” you tilt your chin up defiantly, fingers twiddling as doubt nips at your scalp, “my husband is inside.”
The words wisp from you and leave your chest hollow. Saying it out loud twists the knife to the bone. The man lets out and ‘ah’ but not much else. He tuts as and shakes his head, turning to open the door, “no fighting,” he warns.
“Just a bit of screaming,” you assure him as you bluster through, hands balled as you cling to your anger. Yes, be mad, that’s easy.
You stomp inside and stop short, looking around at the spectrum of colours; fabric, lights, glitter, bottles, flesh… You’re dizzy as you keep searching, standing on your toes as you try to see past the bodies sat along the bar and those clustered around tables. A few men sit alone, throwing money up on the stage as women twirl and spread their legs. How many of them are married?
You see him. Brock. The scoundrel. Your teeth chatter and you gulp as your eyes singe. You want to run away. You want to go home and cry into your pillow. No, it ends here. Tonight.
“Hey, honey,” a waitress startles you, “oh, uh,” her surprise is obvious as she takes you in, “need a drink?”
“Maybe after,” you answer quietly, “thanks.”
She bats her lashes and gives a tremulous grin, “alright, sweetie.”
She quickly retreats, approaching a paying customer with a shimmy of her chest. You roll your shoulders and push your head up. You want that rat husband to feel the same humiliation that scours your stomach. Strippers, really? He told you he was working late.
You make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you tramp across the room, past tables of chattering men, through the din of music playing along to the movement of naked bodies. Brock lifts his glass as you near, noticing too late as his dark eyes hang off the blond hanging upside down from a pole.
“You bastard,” you snarl as knock the glass out of his hand, “you fucking liar!”
“Woah, woah,” he raises his hands, “uh, honey,” he greets, “what are you–”
“What am I doing here?! What–” you huff, head spinning, “is this work now? Hm? You lied to me. You left me at home to clean up after your lazy ass and you're spending our money on this?”
“Our money?” He scoffs.
“Oh shut up! I can’t believe you! Actually, no, you know what, I can,” you sneer, “why the fuck did I ever marry you?”
He chuckles darkly and stands, slowly, sinisterly. The way he does to win all your arguments. Just close enough to make you anxious.
“Let’s not do this here.”
“No, no, let’s do it here because you’re not coming home.”
“Ha, I’m not? Not allowed in the house I pay for–”
“I work too-”
“You make pennies,” he retorts, “go home, honey, I’ll be there soon for dinner.”
“No, no, don’t even–”
“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” His eyes fall down your body, “look at you. You’re not hiding anything special. I needa do this–” he gestures to the dancer, “just to get hard for your fat ass.”
You reel, the air knocked out of you. Your determination dwindles and you look around. You’re being watched. The performers can hardly keep up their routines as their eyes stray to the scene. A surge of shame erupts to fury.
“Fuck you!” You hit Brock in the chest, “fuck you!” You hit him again. He doesn’t even flinch. His indifference riles you further and you swing for his face. You’re pulled back before you can connect.
“Woah, lady,” an arm wraps around your middle, “settle down, no fighting in here–”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you growl as you claw wildly, “I’m going to–”
“Sweetheart,” another voice rises as another man appears, “come on, let’s pack it in.”
You grab at the arm around you, tugging on it without result. Brock rolls his eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think she’d just show up–”
“I don’t give a fuck, get out,” the man says. He puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket as he rubs his short stubble.
Slowly, sense returns to you and cools your angry adrenaline. Suddenly, you're horribly embarrassed. You stop and cover your face, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll go– I don’t know what came over me–”
“Not you,” the man intones out of the side of his mouth, “you.” You drop your hands to your chest as he points at Brock, “and don’t come back.”
“What– I didn’t do shit,” your husband snarls, “she came in here and–”
“You think I don’t see this all the damn time. Get out.” He pivots dismissively, Take the lady to the backroom and get her a drink.”
“No, no, please, I’ll go,” you insist, squirming as you try to free yourself.
“You’ll have a drink and calm down, sweetheart,” he waggles his finger at you then points to the ceiling, “Sam, take care of this asshole.”
Another man comes around and reaches for Brock’s arm. Your husband pulls away gruffly, “I can leave on my fucking own,” he snips, “don’t send that bitch home. She can sleep on the curb.”
Your lip trembles as Brock storms out, kicking over a chair as the man, Sam, follows to see him out. You clutch the string of your hoodie as the man at your back releases you.
“I’m so sorry. I– I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking,” you say.
“John,” the man snaps his fingers.
The man at your side once more takes your arm and tugs on you. You peer around then drop your eyes to the floor in shame. You let him lead you away, eager to hide from your rapt audience.
“Alright, alright, back to business,” the man, some sort of manager you assume, calls behind you.
You’re taken down a hallway to one of the private rooms and your escort flicks on the In Use light before showing you in. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you before he shuts the door. You sigh and look around, the space cast in a gentle violet hue centered around a small stage.
You tread hesitantly along the carpet and around the curved couch. A knock comes and you peek over as a woman in a short red dress enters with a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. You watch her cross the room and set it on the low round table. You don’t know what to say so you let her go without a word.
You pace and chew your thumb. You could just go. No one would notice. Besides, why keep you here? Shit, what if they’re calling the police?
You rush for the door but it opens before you can reach it. The man, the one in charge, enters, shutting the door with a flick of his wrist as you nearly collide with him. You step back and wring your hands as you stare at him. He smirks as he watches you.
“What’s the hurry, sweetheart? Sounds like the old man won’t be staying up.”
“Um,” you swallow and cross your arms, trying to hide yourself. Compared to the club of primped, pretty women, you must stick out horribly, “I should go–”
“I told you to have a drink,” he nears and waves you towards the couch, “come on.”
“N–” you begin as he grabs your shoulder before slowly sliding his arm over it. He turns you with him and walks you across the room.
“Sit,” he points to the arched cushion, “the least you can do after coming into my club with that shit.”
You pull away and lower yourself to the couch. You hunch forward as you fold your arms over your lap, “I’m sorry–”
“I get it it, sweetie,” he goes to the table and breaks the seal on the bottle, pouring the dark whiskey into the crystal, “I’ve had this place for a while, I know men, I know most of the ones who come here shouldn’t.”
He caps the bottle and takes both glasses. He comes back to you and offers you one. You thank him with no intent to drink. He straightens and takes a long sip.
“Almost feel bad taking their money,” he mulls, “sorry, sweetheart, I know that’s not too nice to say right now.” He strides around casually.
“I… are you going to call the police?” You ask at last, cradling the glass of whiskey.
“If I was, you wouldn’t be in here,” he flicks his fingers at you, “not too hard to mop up some vodka. No harm, no foul.”
You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.
“Drink,” he demands, “I’m being pretty generous, so don’t test it.”
You raise the glass hesitantly. You take a small drink of the bitter liquid and it burns down your throat. You cough and cover your mouth. As you look up, he comes back to you and sits.
“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise to me. That moron you call a husband should be,” he shrugs and takes a deep swig of his whiskey, “makes me wonder why they can’t just appreciate what they got.”
You laugh darkly and drink to smother your smart comment. He watches you and you shy away. He pushes against the bottom of your glass and floods your mouth with the whiskey. You choke and pull it away from your lips, hiding the overflow with your hand before wiping it away with your sleeve.
“How long?” He takes your hand away from your mouth and touches the ring on your finger.
You look at the gold band, “five years in June.”
“Ah,” he clucks and stretches to set his glass down, “not exactly what I meant. How long’s it been since he fucked you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, that’s why he’s here. Why you’re here–”
“I don’t even know who you are,” you stand and look for a place to put your drink.
He grabs your wrist, “finish your drink and answer the question.”
You yank on your arm but his grip is firm. He tugs you until you’re forced back down. You twist your arm in his grasp and he squeezes, a warning.
“Bucky,” he states, “I own this place. Now, sweetheart, you wanna be proper, fine, what’s your name?”
You stare at him. He slowly lets you go and you rub your temple. Well, what the fuck else are you gonna do? You can’t go home. You murmur out your name.
“Alright, and my other question.”
You take a drink. A big one. The glass is empty. He takes it from you as you swipe your hand across your lips to dab away the dribble. You blow out as your stomach swirls.
“Nine months.”
“Nine–” he puts down your glass and sits back to face you, “nine months.”
“Shit,” you shake your head and examine your hands, “I can’t blame him so please, I know why. You don’t have to say it.”
“Why?”
You frown, “it isn’t that hard to guess.”
“I don’t know, tell me.”
You scoff. You turn your face away and furl your fingers as you bite back tears. This if fucking humiliating.
“Look at me,” you whisper.
“I’m trying, sweetheart, but you’re hiding.”
You huff, “please, I would rather just go sleep on the street.”
“Babe, alright, I’m not being mean here. I’m not teasing you,” he shifts closer and his hand rests on your lower back. You wince. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been touched, even just like that. “Looks like you break your back at home, you deserve appreciation for that. Shouldn’t matter what you’re wearing.”
You clench your jaw as you look down, his other hand toys with the open zipper of your shirt. You pull your arms in and hug yourself.
“Why… am I here?”
“Sweetheart, you’re still a woman under all this. Your husband’s too fucked to know it.” His finger tickles up your sweater and he plays with your hoodie, “I’ll take a good fucking bet that you could be up on one of these stages.”
“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.
“I mean it,” his thumb brushes your jaw, “prove me wrong.”
You go rigid and grab his hand. You try to push it away and he twines his fingers through yours. He pulls your hand over and kisses the back of it.
“Well, am I wrong?” He purrs as he clings to you.
Your throat constricts as you meet his gaze. This man is hitting on you? With his eyes and his jawline, his cheekbones. You laugh cynically.
“You are wrong and I’m married.”
He lets go of your hand as you face forward. His hand lingers on your back still and crawls under your hoodie. He tugs at the elastic of your sweats and you yelp in surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear.
“Looks like a fine ass to me,” he snickers.
“Hey,” you shove him away, “what the fuck?”
“I’m not convinced,” he says.
“What?”
“I’m not convinced you’re the problem, sweetie, so you’re gonna have to show me that I’m wrong. Right now. You show me you’re not hot as fuck.”
You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”
“Take those fucking clothes off,” he leans in to growl in your ear.
You gasp as his lips tickle your cheek, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You shiver as he brushes his fingers along your neck. He grips your jaw and presses his mouth against you as he speaks.
“You come into my fucking club and make a fucking scene like that, sweetheart,” he growls, “you want to put on a show, finish it.” He stands, dragging you up with him as he squeezes your jaw painfully, “go on, stage is right there.”
“Bucky,” you grasp his wrist, “I’m sorry–”
“Ah, ah, shhh,” he hushes you, “no more talking.”
He spins you, stopping you with hands on your hips and nudges you towards the stage. You trip as he lets you go and stumble forward. You stare at the platform, the single step up, not very far from the couch at all. Close enough to see everything.
You look at the door as you wiggle your fingers. You can go. Run for it. He startles you as suddenly his hand is in your pocket and he fishes out your keys as if reading your mind. He throws them across the room and they fall into shadow.
“I got a man outside anyhow, so let’s go, sweetheart,” he claps his hands as he falls onto the couch with a rush of air.
“I don’t–”
Music rises from the speakers, interrupting you. You turn to watch him place his phone screen down beside him and lean back. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch as he sways one leg.
You face the stage again and brace yourself. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t dance. You’re hideous.
“Just gotta shake your ass a bit, sweetheart, really, it’s not rocket science,” he goads.
You climb onto the stage, eyes skittering evasively as you try to figure out what to do next. You awkwardly lift your foot and slide off your sneaker, then do the same to the other. You kick your shoes away as you pace nervously to the beat.
“Give it a bit of sass, baby,” he intones and you glance over, his hand on his thigh as he keeps one arm over the couch.
You turn and grab the front of your hoodie. You look at the ceiling and shimmy a bit, easing your sleeves down your shoulders. You get caught in the fabric and untangle your hands from the cuffs before finally flinging it away.
“Please,” you clasp the loose fabric of your tee, “I can’t–”
“You can,” he insists as his fingers tap on his leg.
You huff and look at the wall, trying to focus on the rhythm. You don’t feel very sexy. Your skin is hot with embarrassment but the heat is far from pleasant. You raise the hem of your shirt, baring your stomach as you hope the lighting hides the rippled lines around your hips. You unveil your white bra and swipe the cotton past your head.
You drop the shirt and give a spin, if only to hide a cringe. He gives a low groan but you’re certain it’s a laugh. You face him as you hook your fingers in the elastic of your sweats. If you get it over with, he’ll have his fun and send you off.
You roll down the top of the pants, rocking your hips as the music guides you. You push them down your pelvis, the cool air raising bumps all over you. As the fabric falls lower, you turn your back to him and tug it down past your ass. You drop them to your ankles and step out of them.
You reach back to unhook your bra, wiggling your bottom. You unclasp the back and ease the straps along your arms. You add it to the mess across the stage as a low shudder underlines the music. You turn, shyly, scared, and face him again.
You still, unable to even try. You can’t pretend. You don’t belong here. He’s making that clear. You came in here and now he’s showing you what’s what. Your lips part as you look at him, his hand on his crotch as he bites his lip. You blink dumbly.
You hide your body with your arms, “can I go now?”
“Go where?” He breathes as he squeezes himself, “we’re not done.”
“I…” you tuck your chin down, “please–”
“I’m hard as fuck, sweetheart, you’re not gonna leave me like this,” he drags his hand away to reveal the bulge in his pants, “so come here and take care of it.”
You gape at him. No. You’re married. And he’s a stranger.
You look down at your body and muster what’s left of your courage. You let your arms hang straight, letting him see everything. Heat spatters across your flesh, from nape to heel, sinking into your core. You quiver, for a moment confused by the plucking that feels so familiar and yet, not.
You urge yourself forward, feet flat and uncertain. Your thighs brush together as you step down from the stage and you let out a wisp. Bucky purrs as you come closer and reaches out to take you by the hips. His thumbs graze the raised flesh of your stretch marks and you latch onto his wrists.
“Please–”
“Please,” he echoes and pulls you between his knees, leaning forward to kiss the imperfections, “beautiful.”
You swallow and shake your head, “don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t fucking lie,” he breathes against your skin, teeth grazing hotly, “mm, you are so fucking hot…” he tilts his head back to look at you, his hand trailing up to grope your chest, “I told you I was right.”
Your tongue swipes between your lips and you watch how he fondles you, the doting of his hand as he rolls his thumb around your nipple. He snakes his hand under your arm and pulls you with him as he sits back. He guides you to straddle his lap.
His touch explores your torso and his breath fans over your chest. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and takes it in his mouth, suckling as he cups your other tit. He plays with you, his mouth replacing his other hand as he leaves a smear of spit across your skin.
He kneads your ass as he rocks your hips against him. He hums, the vibration thrumming through you, as he grinds you against his crotch. He snarls and falls back against the couch.
“You make me wait any longer, sweetheart, and you’re going to ruin my pants,” he rasps and nods to his body, “get on me.”
You look down at him, his jacket wide to reveal the dark shirt taut across his broad chest. You shakily put your hands on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle and letting them wander down his hard torso. You watch your hands as if they’re someone else’s.
You stop at the button along his fly. He growls and bucks his hips in encouragement, bouncing you. You pick open the button and zipper, brushing along his bulge and eliciting a gritty snarl. You push down the top of his boxers and reach beneath to wrap your fingers around him. He groans as you pull him out, stroking him as you admire his thick length.
“More than you’re used to?” He chuckles as he runs his hand along your thigh.
You lift yourself on your knees and angle against him, pushing his tip along your folds. He catches your chin and pokes his thumb along your lip as you guide him against your cunt. You lower yourself, stretching around him little by little. You stop halfway and whimper.
“Oh, baby, I know you can do it,” he cradles your face, “come on, just a little more–”
You sink down completely and he gasps, squeezing your head between his hands as he throws his head back. He sneers between his teeth as you grasp his shoulders and let out a billowy breath. You whine as you rock against him.
“Sweetheart,” he snickers as he pulls his hands away, “fuck.”
He grips your hip and tilts you, leading your motion as his eyes descend your body. You follow his pace, slipping a hand down to his chest as you moan. You’ve never been so full, so free. It’s wrong but you feel nothing but delight.
He dips his other hand down and bends his fingers along your clit, toying with you as he keeps your moving. You whine as your core pulses and the pleasure laces around your nerves, drawing them tighter and tighter. You roll your eyes back and hum as you suck in your bottom lip.
“You feel how fucking wet you are for me,” he rubs you faster, “I thought I told you not to ruin these pants.”
You groan as you carry your tempo, curling your fingers into his shoulder as his hand trails up your back. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, kissing you and swallowing up your moans as he keeps his fingertips pressed to your clit. You quaver as the tension winds to a fever pitch.
You tear your mouth from his and clutch his head between your hands as you cum. You cry out as you rest your lips against his hairline, shaking as the release flows from you. He grunts and hooks his arm around you.
He flips you onto your back as you exclaim. He pushes into you as deep as he can go and pulls back, thrusting sharply so you whimper. He slides back, pausing, then slams in again. He does it over and over, slamming in harder and harder as your walls cling to his long strokes.
“You even remember his name, sweetheart?” He puffs as he pounds into you, his hand stretching across your throat, “tell me, baby, who’s your daddy?”
You groan and push against his hip as he ruts, hammering you into the cushions. The world tilts and spins around you, your anger, your doubts, all lost to the whirlwind of his fucking. You clasp his thick arm and whine.
“Tell me, baby,” he demands as he squeeze your neck.
“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”
“Who am I, baby?”
“Daddy,” you drone and your head lolls in another wave of ecstasy, “daddy, please, daddy…”
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#brock rumlow#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#mcu#marvel#avengers#au#winter soldier#crossbones
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📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"
Rated: Explicit
Word Count: 7893
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes
Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)
A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!
Breeding the Winter Soldier
“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”
Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”
And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?
His mate is going to be so confused.
Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”
“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”
Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”
“Captain. Hail Hydra.”
Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.
“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.
“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”
Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.
“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.
They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”
“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.
“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”
Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”
“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.
Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”
“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”
Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.
Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”
Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”
“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”
“What are you talking about?”
Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”
“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”
“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”
Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”
Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”
Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.
But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”
Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”
“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”
“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”
Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”
Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”
“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”
Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”
“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.
“Fuck you!” Steve spits.
Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.
The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.
Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.
The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.
They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”
The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.
“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”
The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.
“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”
The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”
“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”
The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”
Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”
“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”
But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”
Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.
He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.
That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.
In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.
“Rogers.”
Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”
Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.
Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”
Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”
Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”
Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”
Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”
“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”
“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.
Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”
Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.
“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”
Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”
Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”
“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”
“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”
Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”
Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.
James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.
James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.
“… Bucky—”
“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:
“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”
In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.
“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.
James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”
“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”
James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”
Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”
“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”
Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…
“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”
James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”
Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”
James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.
His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.
The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.
Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”
Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.
Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.
Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”
Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”
“Yes.”
Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”
Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”
Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.
He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.
“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”
James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”
That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”
James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”
He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.
But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”
Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.
Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.
“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”
James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.
It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.
James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”
Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.
“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”
James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”
Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.
“Why do you torture yourself like this?”
Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.
“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”
Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”
“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”
“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”
“No?”
“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”
“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”
“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.
Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”
Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.
“You think it’ll take?”
“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.
Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”
Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.
Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”
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NEW FIC
Okay I've been messing around with this idea for like months and i only have like 3k words written and I wanted to test the waters to see if this is something you guys are interested in reading.
Brief synopsis: Bucky, a 23 year old college dropout, lives with his fiancé Brock Rumlow by the small New England college Brock is a professor at. Between his OCD and his anxiety and the gender dysphoria his fiancé assures him is all in his head, he struggles to find purpose and happiness. That is, until his fiancé's graduate student, Steve Rogers, moves into town and disrupts everything Bucky thought he knew.
Excerpt below cut, TW: OCD, DV, intentional midgendering/deadnaming, SH behaviors, coercion
Bucky peeks his head into the living room. There are only three men besides his fiancé, but the conversation is already too loud. Brock always says Bucky is just especially sensitive, that he has a naturally nervous predisposition, that’s why he’s best suited to staying home most of the time. He’s right, Bucky is sensitive, to noises and lights and crowds. Brock is so kind to not force him to go out. When he was a kid, his parents always thought he was faking it for attention, so they’d make him go to church and school and the grocery store even when he was overwhelmed. Brock never makes him leave if he doesn’t want to. And sometimes, even if he does want to, Brock knows it’s better for him to stay inside.
“Jamie, why don’t you bring out the drinks?” Brock calls.
Bucky’s back stiffens and he takes a slow breath. The men probably won’t even want to talk to him, they rarely do, beyond simple pleasantries. He just needs to smile and look nice. He grabs the silver tray of gin and tonics and walks into the living room with a timid little smile. He recognizes two of the men, other professors from the university, Rollins and Sitwell, he actually took a course with Rollins before he dropped out, but he doesn’t recognize the third. He looks barely older than Bucky himself, with his sandy hair and round, blue eyes, like perfectly ripe blueberries.
He doesn’t dress like the other men, either. During their classes, sure, they may dress nicely, in suits or button-ups with pressed slacks, but when they get together outside of that, they nearly always wear jeans, maybe a nice shirt or a sweater if they care enough that night. But the younger man, the blond, he’s dressed up like a vaguely homosexual humanities major from a nineties movie about a college in New England. Sweater vest, pants in a cinnamon-y kind of brown, a cream-white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
Brock pecks Bucky’s cheek as he places the tray down on the coffee table, next to the platters of carefully-selected crackers and nuts and cheeses that Bucky has spent the last two years learning how to curate. Brock’s real particular about shit like that. “Thanks, babe,” Brock says gently.
“Dinner should be ready soon,” Bucky whispers, sidling up close to him and glancing at the other men. “Like… half an hour more, I think? The potatoes just need a bit longer.”
“Of course, babydoll,” Brock murmurs, then kisses Bucky’s cheek again. “Go on, you don’t have to stay in here.”
Bucky smiles thankfully and disappears back into the kitchen. It’s a gorgeous kitchen, Brock wanted to gut it and rebuild it all marble and sleek, but Bucky begged him to keep it the way it is. It has beautiful hand painted tiles and dark-stained wooden cabinets and the most perfectly-worn brass fixtures. Brock finally agreed to keep it the way he bought it, if only because Bucky’s the one who spends so much time in the kitchen.
The kitchen smells glorious, the whole apartment does, really. Like thyme and garlic and the orange-cranberry cake he baked this afternoon. The potatoes in the oven are a soft golden-brown, encrusted with herbs, and the steak is resting on the counter. He did a good job. Brock will be happy with him. He didn’t mess up like last time.
He decides to start on the icing for the cake, a simple powdered sugar icing, perhaps with a squeeze or two of orange juice. He plucks the leftover orange from the ceramic fruit bowl and places it down on the counter before going to the cupboard and reaching for the paper bag of icing sugar. He has to stand on his tiptoes and lean against the counter and he’s still barely tall enough to brush his fingers against the bottom of the bag. He gets a loose grip on it when–
“Oh, hey, do you need help with that?”
Bucky whirls around in surprise, sending the bag tumbling to the ground. Nearly half of it flies out in a sugary cloud, painting the antique tiles an ashy grey. On the other side of the cloud stands the blond, the young man who Bucky still hasn’t been introduced to.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he says with wide eyes.
“No, no, my fault,” Bucky whispers. Brock is going to be so mad with him for making such a bad mess. He’ll need to really mop it, maybe twice or even three times, fine sugar is almost impossible to clean properly. “Sorry.”
“No, nonsense, do you have a broom or something, I could–”
Bucky shakes his head quickly and gestures for Steve to return to the men before he finds his voice. “‘S not your fault, I can clean it. Do you… you need something?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Rumlow just said there would be seltzer or soda or something in here. I’m not much of a drinker,” he laughs apologetically.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bucky nods. He opens the fridge to reveal shelves upon shelves of perfectly organized food, labeled tupperwares, straight lines of soda cans. “Any flavor you prefer?” Bucky asks quietly.
“Yeah, lemon would be great, thanks.” Bucky hands him a silvery can with a little lemon slice embossed into its front, careful not to slip into the mess of sugar. “Oh, I’m Steve, by the way. I’m a PhD candidate, I just moved here. I’m, um, TA-ing for one of Rumlow’s courses, and I’m teaching one myself.”
“Ooh, that sounds interesting,” Bucky hums. He struggles to think of an intelligent-sounding thing to say next. “What are you, like… getting your PhD in?”
Steve starts to say something, he nearly launches into what must be a very rehearsed recitation of his field of study, but Brock appears in the doorway next to him a moment later, places a hand on his far shoulder like they’re pals. Brock’s easy smile falls from his face when he sees the pile of sugar in the very center of the kitchen. Bucky instinctively takes a step back at the displeasure written into every line of his face. “What’s taking so long?” Brock chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in it.
“I’m really sorry, man,” Steve chuckles, ducking his head in faux-embarrassment. “I knocked over the sugar when I went to open the fridge, stupid mistake.”
Brock’s posture softens a bit, his shoulders drop and he stops glaring at Bucky quite so menacingly. “Yeah, she can clean it up, don’t worry about it.”
Bucky shoots Steve a little thankful grin as the two men walk out of the kitchen. He manages to salvage the sugar that didn’t fall out of the bag and does his best to brush as much of the mess on the floor into a trash bag as he can. He’ll clean the rest tonight, once everyone leaves and he can really scrub at the tile.
He doesn’t get the chance to make the icing before he has to plate up dinner, but that’s fine, the men usually like to drink and talk a bit in between dinner and dessert, so he should have plenty of time to ice the cake in between. He sets five plates full of potatoes and steak and grilled asparagus on the table and calls in for the men. He sits at Brock’s side. He doesn’t have steak, he doesn’t really like to eat meat, it feels weird against his teeth, but he does love potatoes and asparagus. He manages to finish off his plate, which earns him a small nod of approval from his fiancé.
“So, Jamie, what do you do?” Steve asks, once there’s a lull in conversation.
Bucky takes a shaky breath and glances to Brock before answering. “I really just take care of the home, I don’t… work or anything.”
The focus is quickly drawn away from him, and he doesn’t mind. He really doesn’t have anything interesting to add to any conversation. Not unless the topic is baked goods or bookshelves or something. He isn’t good at small talk, but it’s okay, because people don’t usually want to talk to him anyway.
He clears the table while the men chat in the living room. He notices Steve glancing at him through the doorway that connects the living room to the dining room, which makes him a bit uneasy, but people who meet him through Brock usually are a bit surprised to realize he’s so young. There’s only a seventeen year gap, but Bucky knows he’s still quite young. Most people don’t expect a forty-year-old professor to have a twenty-three-year-old fiancée at home. Bucky doesn’t mind. Brock doesn’t, so why should he?
He makes the icing once the table is re-set with clean dessert dishes, a simple icing, vanilla and powdered sugar and milk and a bit of orange juice. He drizzles it neatly onto the bundt cake and places it on the table proudly and waits in the kitchen until the men decide they’re hungry again. Steve sits next to Bucky this time. Brock on one side, Steve on the other.
“Shit, this is good,” Steve curses under his breath. The other men are too busy talking about something Bucky doesn’t understand to compliment him, but he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t need to be thanked for doing what’s expected of him. “Is this from, like, scratch?”
“Yeah,” Bucky whispers, grinning a bit. “It’s a recipe I developed. I have a lot of time. I made a lot of lemon blueberry cake this summer and I thought I could adapt it for autumn.”
“Are you gonna eat some? Seriously, this is like… better than bakery quality.”
“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Bucky lies. He’s on a diet. Not a strict one, but he absolutely couldn’t fit a whole slice of cake into his daily calorie allotment. Maybe if he doesn’t eat breakfast or lunch tomorrow, he could have a leftover slice after dinner.
He busies himself in the kitchen, packing up leftovers and wiping down the counters, while the men say their goodbyes. As expected, moments after the door shuts, Brock appears in the kitchen. “You need to clean the floor,” He says, as if that hasn’t been the only thing on Bucky’s mind all evening.
“I will,” Bucky promises earnestly. “Did I do good tonight?”
“Well, darling,” Brock corrects with a little chuckle. “Yes, you did very well. Such a lovely hostess,” he teases, which makes Bucky’s cheeks go a bit pink, he never does like when Brock makes such a point of calling him a woman, but he knows he meant it as a compliment so he doesn’t protest.
“Thank you,” Bucky grins.
“Come to the bedroom once this is all cleaned up, alright?”
“Alright,” Bucky parrots nervously. He’ll have to hurry up his cleaning, Brock gets mad when he thinks Bucky is procrastinating sex. Bucky doesn’t want to be punished tonight. Having to see so many people already exhausted him, and he narrowly escaped a punishment for dropping the sugar all over the kitchen floor.
But still, he presses a polite smile onto his face and nods and Brock leaves him alone to clean. After two passes with a mop, there are only a few sticky streaks left behind. He’ll really scrub it clean tomorrow, but Brock probably won’t notice in the interim.
Bucky reluctantly shuffles up the stairs to the bedroom. Brock is laying down on the bed, laptop balanced on his thighs. Bucky resists the urge to remind him not to wear outside clothes on the fresh comforter, just barely, Brock gets annoyed when he gets all obsessive about that kind of stuff. Bucky perches delicately on the end of the bed and waits for Brock to finish whatever he’s typing up. He rushes Brock, sometimes, because he’s selfish with Brock’s time. He’s trying to get better, though.
Finally, Brock closes his computer and places it on the side table. He looks at Bucky for several tense breaths. Bucky fidgets anxiously. Is something wrong? Is he doing something wrong? He glances down unsurely at what he’s wearing. “I noticed you were doing it again,” Brock finally states.
“Doing what?” Bucky whispers.
“Scratching your arms.”
“I haven’t been,” Bucky defends quickly. His hands immediately go to circle his forearms, he crosses them over his chest protectively.
“I saw you doing it tonight,” Brock says slowly. “Take off your sweater, Jamie. And roll up those sleeves, too.”
Bucky pulls his knit sweater over his head, then bunches up the long sleeves of his dress to his elbows so his forearms are visible. All along his arms, blanketed by a sheer layer of iridescent scars, soft violet bruises blossom alongside irritated-looking scratches, some newer than others. He looks away, embarrassed. He truly didn’t notice he was doing it, it’s been a habit for so long that he rarely registers it. Brock coos with mock-sympathy and sits up a bit, gesturing for Bucky to scoot closer. He does.
“Baby, you need to stop doing that, look how ugly they are. You’re just making it harder for the scars to heal.”
“‘M sorry,” Bucky mumbles. Brock takes him by the wrists, turns his mottled arms this way and that. After a few moments of inspection, Brock drops his arms again and reaches his hands for his belt. “No, please, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers desperately, shrinking away from his fiancé as discreetly as he can manage.
“Hands out.”
Bucky lifts his hands up, facing the palms toward Brock. They’re trembling, but he knows better than to refuse. Brock carefully folds his belt in half and strikes Bucky’s palms, ten times, in close succession. Bucky flinches, but he never takes his hands away. Brock is right to discipline him. He’s right, he needs to break this habit. It is ugly. He’s ugly. Brock deserves better than that. “Thank you,” he says quickly, as Brock tosses the belt to the side and leans back against the headboard.
“I’m just trying to help you, darling, you know that.”
“I do,” Bucky nods, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Brock always keeps the house so freezing. Bucky usually doesn’t mind, but he always feels so shaky when Brock makes him get undressed. His fingertips turn all blue.
Brock undoes his pants, spreads his legs to either side of Bucky so he can crawl forward and situate himself on his stomach. He takes Brock’s dick out of his pants and strokes at it a couple times, but it’s already erect. He takes it into his mouth and sucks gently at the head, he wants to prolong this part to hopefully avoid having Brock fuck into the back of his throat for too long. He hates that. One time he got sick, and Brock got so mad, even though Bucky kind of felt, deep down, like it was Brock’s fault. Since then, every time Brock starts gripping onto his hair and thrusting down his throat, he feels panic tugging at his lungs and nausea pooling low in his stomach.
Thankfully, he leaves Bucky in control for most of the blowjob, he lets him wrap his hands around the length left out of his mouth and stroke at it, which keeps him mollified, even if Bucky should try a bit harder to deepthroat him. Before he can come, he lifts Bucky off of his dick. Bucky blinks and sniffles unsurely as oxygen floods into his lungs. He didn’t–
Bucky flinches as a string of come lands over his eye. Another one, in his hair. He breathes shakily and retches shallowly and waits for Brock to be done. Thankfully, Brock isn’t very chatty after sex. He just throws a few tissues at him and starts scrolling through his phone, dick still hanging out of his undone fly. Bucky used to crave intimacy and conversation afterwards but nowadays he’s just so excited to run off to the shower and have a few minutes to himself.
He starts running the shower in the conjoined bathroom before he even starts undressing. He usually likes to let the mirror steam up so he doesn’t have to look at himself more than necessary. It’s not that the dresses and lipstick and frilly blouses don’t make him dysphoric, and he can still see the contours of his body, his chest, his waist, even through the thin layer of steam collected on the mirror, but it makes his evenings just a bit easier.
Sometimes he dares to use Brock’s body wash, the one that smells like, according to the bottle, a volcano, which makes Bucky giggle a bit. Brock rarely notices when he does, and Bucky can usually pass it off rather easily, oh, we’re almost out of mine, if he mentions it. But tonight he doesn’t. Tonight, he scrubs himself down with his apricot-sweet gel and lathers his hair until it’s sleek and shiny with coconut shampoo and conditioner. Sometimes, he tries to buy nice girly things, scents that make him happy, in some lame attempt to convince himself that he can be happy as a woman. That he can embrace it, embrace the delicate femininity Brock so desperately wants him to embody. So far, he hasn’t had much luck.
#bucky barnes#stucky#steve rogers#stevebucky#fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#captain america#bucky barnes fanfiction#catws#winterbones#fanfic#winterbones fanfiction#brock rumlow#bucky x steve#bucky x brock#marvel#marvel fanfic
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Pairing: Mob Boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic); Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic); Brock Rumlow x Reader (platonic)
Word Count: around 4K
Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Childhood hoods, childhood crush, childhood nicknames based upon appearance, young Brock, Steve, Bucky and Sam, skinny Stevie Rogers, sibings being sibings, bratty behavior, Angst, allusion to underage drinking and crime, toxic parents, protective bothers, allusions to underaged drinking, bratty behavior, a punch in the nose (accidental), bloody nose, shirtless Sam, kind of innocent reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) loss of virginity, pain during sex, p in v, raw sex (wrap it or don’t tap it), praise kink, after care. This entire fic is comprised of two flashbacks.
A/N: This is in the same AU Try a Little Tenderness and The Representative, and comes directly after Addicted To You. The AU is called This Thing of Ours.
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You were ten years old, it was 2002, and you were spending the summer in Brooklyn at your father’s house.
It was long before the mob war that he created which separated your brother Brock from his best friends.
And it was a time that would change you forever.
The July afternoon was hot and so was the block. Music was blaring from the speakers of someone’s radio and there was a buzz in the air: adolescence, ambition and a potential for violence.
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book/Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up/Where them gangstas at?/ Where them dimes at?/They shootin'! Aw, made you look
They called you Bunny because of your teeth and your size. But you were a scrapper and could stand up for yourself. Your father taught you that.
You also had a smart mouth, and roasted anyone who dared talk about you or your family.
Your mother taught you that.
When you came to your father’s house while your mother took her annual girls trip that summer, you found that your big brother was suddenly different. Gone was the quiet gangly 12 year old who drew up plans for world domination in composition books in his room; a wiry 13 year old who had friends who were just as scrappy and hungry as he was had taken his place.
Little Stevie Rogers never backed down from a fight. That’s where his best friend Bucky Barnes came in, backing him up when Stevie was against the wall. Brock was the kid with vision, the one who had a plan to get them where they wanted to be.
In power.
Your brother tried to ignore you, but you trailed after him because there was nothing better to do. One day, you sat in the stoop and watched him and his friends working to open the fire hydrant across the street from your dad’s house.
Your brother felt your eyes on them as you hugged your knees.You were a sight, bushy hair, glasses, braces, and an intense look on your face. He felt bad.
For a second.
“Why don’t you go on over there and play dolls with Shandy and “n’em, Bunny?”
You glanced over at the girls playing on the next stoop, their braids wilting in the sun. They were playing with stiff dolls with stiff plastic hair and legs that didn’t bend. Not your scene.
You just poked your tongue out at him and moved to stand in the water now dripping out of the hydrant, your strawberry sneakers with the bows getting drenched. You smiled down at them, thinking of how mad your mother would be.
“Aw, c’mon Brock. She ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Let her have some fun.”
Bucky’s blue eyes shone down at you and you pushed up your glasses and looked up at him, squinting in the sun. Stevie’s bony elbow bumped into yours as you hopped to avoid the bruising gush of water along the pavement as they succeeded in their quest.
“Sorry.”
Stevie smiled at you. He really was a nice boy, even though he was pugnacious. Bucky was a smart ass, however.
“You don’t want her to melt, do ya? Your old man would skin you alive.”
Stevie and Bucky laughed as Brock scowled. He didn’t have time for benevolence or little sisters. He had plans. He shook his head.
“Focus. We gotta stick with the plan. Sammy Wilson is coming over to talk about what’s happening tonight, and she doesn’t need to be around.”
You flipped Brock off behind Bucky and Stevie’s back, and he just scowled harder at you. No matter what you did, he didn’t engage with you like you wanted him to. How boring.
Bucky whistled.
“Wilson is fast. That dude can run his ass off.”
Sam was on the track team at the high school down the block.
“I can beat him.”
Stevie puffed his bird chest out and Brock and Bucky laughed at him. You felt bad.
“I believe you Stevie.”
He grinned at you and ducked his head.
Brock rolled his eyes and you flipped him off.
He pointed back at you.
“I’m sick of you. I’m telling Dad.”
You thrilled at the attention.
“Go ahead, I’ll tell him what you’re up to.”
Brock grabbed you by the shirt, snarling.
“You better not say a fucking word.”
You pulled away and landed on the pavement, your knee skinned. You kneeled, bending over to look at it, and to keep your tears inside, when you heard the voice of an angel.
“Need some help?”
You looked up into a face haloed by the sun. You reached for the hand that was offered and stood up to look into the face of 14 year old Sammy Wilson. And you were done for.
That gap tooth smile, those eyes. That skin.
You stared at him as you registered laughter around you. Sam spoke again.
“You okay?”
He seemed like he really wanted to know how you were.
“Y-yeah.”
He chuckled.
“You better clean that off.”
Sam took your hand and led you back over to the hydrant. He kneeled down, cupped water in his hand and cleaned off your knee.
“Sssssss!”
It stung.
“Sorry. But it’s for your own good.”
You felt warm, and not just from the heat, as you let him take care of you.
You stared at him as he finished.
“That’s the best I can do. You need to get a band-aid.”
“Okay.”
You would do anything he said. Sam looked up at you and it was like the air was sucked out of your body. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but it intrigued you.
“No problem. I got a little sister at home. Sarah. Just looking out. You gotta be careful.”
He smiled as he stood up and walked away.
You watched him move over to the other boys, forever changed because that’s when you fell in love with Sammy Wilson.
You spent that last summer in Brooklyn as the unofficial mascot of the Savage Crims, the newest gang on the block. Steve, Bucky, and Sam adopted you and you became scout, lookout, and spy. It was the best summer of your life.
Your mother moved to Los Angeles that fall and took you with her. She started dating more legitimate businessmen, meaning the same type of men as your father, just with generational wealth and privilege.
It was a different world than New York. You went to fancy private schools and learned how to play the game. You were now a “friendly black hottie,” sidekick to the main character in every scene.
But you were smart.
As you grew older, you watched and learned and played the part, and soon, you were running the game. By the time you graduated from high school, you were the center of attention, just the way you liked it.
Your mother was engaged, and you and she were on the cusp of something she’d dreamed of her entire life: being iconic.
You started your first two years in college at UCLA, but you convinced your mother that fashion was how you would enable yourself to meet the best type of men, and that Parsons School of design in New York was the place to be.
You acted as if you were uninterested in reconnecting with Brock, who your mom thought hadn’t contacted you in eight years aside from telling you that your father had died.
You convinced your mother that you wouldn’t venture off the island of Manhattan, and she believed you because she was in the midst of applying the full court press on her man.
The truth was, you and Brock kept in touch regularly, and you were eager to see your brother again.
And his friends.
So you flew back East in 2012, 10 years after you left, butterflies threatening to fly out of your mouth as you landed at Laguardia.
After a few weeks in the city establishing your dominance, you showed up at the boys’offices unannounced. He knew you were in town, and told you about how successful he was now, with the help of Bucky and Steve.
And Sam.
You were going to go see just how successful everyone was.
And how lucky you could get.
“Who the hell is that?”
Bucky peered at the camera about the buzzer to the brownstone. Steve came over to look as well.
“It can’t be… Brock, c’mere.”
“What is it? We’re trying to work out this next shipment…”
Brock looked at the camera as Sam watched his jaw drop from the table.
“Who is it?”
“Fuck! That’s Bunny!”
Brock backed up as Steve pressed the buzzer. He opened the door to wait for you to climb the stairs.
“Stevie!?”
Your excited shriek was muffled as the now beefy blonde picked you up immediately to twirl you around into the loft space.
You stood back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.
“Wow! You have filled out.”
“I must have learned from you…”
Steve looked you up and down when you heard a roar in your ear.
“Bunny!”
Bucky gave you a bear hug to where you couldn’t breathe. You pounded his back and punched him in the pecs when he let go. You caught your breath and then turned to Brock, whose eyes were shining.
“God, you’re grown up. You’re not my little Bunny anymore.”
“Shut up, stupid.��
You embraced your brother, surprised at your emotion. You were choking up, about to sob in his arms.
“I missed you.”
You whispered into his shirt.
“Missed you too, kid.”
You let him go and you dabbed at your eyes. You heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Sam standing next to you.
“Hey Sammy!”
You tried to make your voice light, so as not to betray your feelings. You’d replayed this moment in your mind a million times.
He was a man now. And damn. What a man. Tall, dark and handsome. But with that same smile.
Sam tried to be cool. Brock was right. You weren’t little any more. A full grown woman. He tried to not check you out because he knew Brock was watching, but damn. You were beautiful. All over.
“Well? Can I get a hug?”
Sam unfroze himself.
“Of course.”
You seemed to melt into him, your breasts pressed against his chest, his lats seeming to mold around you. He could do this all day.
When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s raised eyebrow and he released you, stepping back and over to the table to try and pretend that all of his senses were not tuned on you.
“How’s Sarah?”
Sam smiled.
“Good. You should call her.”
You smiled back
“I will.”
Bucky interrupted.
“Tell me all about your socialite world, Ms.Y/L/N.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Rumlow ‘til I die.”
You locked eyes with Sam.
“Who does a girl have to screw to get a drink around here?”
You joked and the room fell silent.
“No one.” Brock deadpanned. “And you’ll wait another year until you’re legal.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Yes, like everything is legal up in here.”
It was just like old times: you giving them all hell. Although Sam’s hell was different now.
Bucky handed you a bottle of water.
“Thanks Buck!”
You sat and crossed your legs across from Sam and Brock.
“So. How’s things?”
You four talked for hours, ordering pizza from Sal’s and shooting the shit. It was almost midnight when they drew straws to see who would take you home. Sam drew the short straw.
Lucky him.
You rode in the passenger seat of Sam’s BMW, arms folded across your chest, an adorable bratty pout on your delectable lips. He’d been watching that mouth all night, torturing himself with visions of those in various places on his body. He was getting hard.
Sam stifled a moan which he tried to play off.
You jumped a little when he growled at you.
“What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”
You turned toward him, mad.
“First of all, I’m not a little girl any more.”
“Yeah, Right.”
It sounded dismissive, but Sam was really just agreeing with you.
“Second of all, y’all really drew straws to take me home?”
You glared at him as he laughed at your outrage.
“I’m not the little tagalong from years ago. I didn’t even need you to take me home. I could call anyone to come get me. To come get this.”
You held up your flip phone and indicated your body. Sam’s dark eyes took you in and felt possessive. Holy shit, he was in deep.
“I’m sure you got lots of hardheads after you.”
Sam clenched his jaw and looked back at the road as he drove to The Village.
“We’re busy men, Bunny. We got important work to do. Brock will be working for a couple more hours, Bucky is running the streets, and Steve probably has a date right now…”
“At 1 am? You mean a booty call.”
Sam continued, ignoring you.
“But what will never change is us protecting you. We’re family, Bunny.”
You pushed his head and he glared at you.
“Same little boys is all I see. Important crimes, you mean.”
You huffed back into your seat, your breasts bouncing in your spandex dress. Sam fought to keep his eyes on the road.
“I’ll show you a little boy. Don’t try me, Bunny.”
You turned back to him, batting your eyes, but your attitude on 1000.
“I’d love to try you Sammy.”
Sam had the urge to take you by the throat and slide you up and down his dick, but he just squeezed the steering wheel harder, trying to ignore you.
“Hey Sammy.”
He sideyed you. Your voice was too sweet.
“Let’s go get a drink.”
“Fuck no!”
“C’mon, don’t be a prude. I drank all the time in Europe this summer.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Europe, and I don’t give a fuck.”
You sat back in your seat, grumbling and frustrated. He would never see you as anything but little Bunny. By the time you got to campus, you didn’t even wait for Sam to park before you jumped out. He caught up with you, long legs gaining ground quickly. He grabbed your arm.
“Hey!”
“Let me go!”
You turned around and popped him in the nose by reflex.
“Shit!”
Sam held his face and doubled over.
“Oh, my damn! I’m sorry Sammy. Let me see.”
“Stop…”
Sam pulled away from you and as his hands moved, blood spattered all over his shirt and the concrete below him.
“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
Sam was moving away.
“Just.. leave me alone. I’m okay…”
“No you’re not. I’m sorry Sammy. Come up to my place. Please. I’ll clean you up.”
Sam opened his watery eyes to see your remorseful face and let you lead him up to your apartment, up three flights of stairs. You took him immediately to the bathroom and you washed him up, giving him a wet washcloth and telling him to lean his head forward, indicating the toilet.
Sam sat down and did as he was told, pinching the bridge of his nose.
You sat on the floor below him and stared up at him, hugging your knees.
“I’m so so so so sorry Sammy…”
He looked at you, silent, and continuing to pinch his nose.
You stayed with him for 15 minutes until he stopped bleeding and stood up again, cleaning up a bit more. You felt so bad.
You stared at his shirt as he stood.
“Jeez, Sammy, take that shirt off, let me soak it.”
Sam remained silent, but took off his shirt.
You bent over to get some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, scrubbed the shirt a little, then soaked it in cold water.
Sam was watching your ass, almost feral at the fact that you were such a brat. You needed to be tamed. But you were Brock’s kid sister. He was so torn.
“You can grab a sweatshirt out of my –”
You turned around toward and stopped mid thought, mind blank at the sight of Sam’s shirtless form.
“Holy shit.”
Sam gave you a lopsided grin.
“You keep sweatshirts in your holy shit?”
You didn’t even hear the tease, just licked your lips as you stepped toward him.
“Sammy?”
Sam gulped and tried to calm down. But the look on your face was everything at the moment. He knew he probably should have, but he didn’t stop you as you entered his space. You reached your hand up to his nose.
“Are you ok?”
“I think so.”
Sam reached up and manually shifted his nose.
“Probably just broken for the third time. Been in a couple of scraps.”
Your fingers entwined with his and you brought them to your lips. Tears started to slide down your face.
“I’m sorry.”
Sam wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs.
“Don’t cry. I’m ok.”
He pulled you in for a hug, and then leaned back.
As you looked up at him, he whispered, “So damn beautiful, Bunny…”
Suddenly, he was kissing your face, collecting your salt water with his lips. Then, he pulled away.
“What are we doing?”
You began to nuzzle his palm, while your hands reached for his pecs.
“Stop thinking so much, Sammy…”
“Thinking’s what got us into this..”
You nodded.
“D’you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”
Your eyes followed your hands as they traced his chest, then his sternum down to his happy trail. His stomach clenched at the sensation. He was too far gone.
“How long?”
“From the first time someone tried to be with me sexually. I never really wanted to, I mean I’ve messed around, I can suck your soul out, but I’ve never wanted anyone inside of me.”
You were tracing his hard on outside of his pants, your face upturned now.
“Are you trying to say that…you’re…”
You nodded again.
“You were always in the back of my mind, Sam. I only want you.”
Sam tilted his head downward and captured your lips in a kiss, as though it were inevitable.
You both drew back and then your lips crashed together again, your bodies pressed up against each other urgently.
The kiss was everything you ever imagined and everything Sam didn't know that he wanted. Your hands went for his belt buckle. At that moment, Sam placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him.
“We can’t do this.”
You nodded, stepped back and took a deep breath.
“You’re right. You’re one of my brother’s best friends. No need for you to pop my cherry or anything.”
You two stared at each other. Then you licked your lips. Sam cocked his eyebrow, trying to restrain himself from the animalistic urges your filthy mouth gave him.
“You little brat.”
Sam grabbed your neck to pull you close to him. He reached down to pull your skirt up and he rubbed your ass like he was trying to shine it. He then put both hands on you to spread your cheeks apart. Your wetness was evident in the sound. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed.
“Sounds like you really want this.”
For once in your life, you were speechless, and Sam reached down and angled your head up so he could look at you.
“I need you tonight Sam.”
You kissed him again and tried to get on your knees. But Sam stopped you and led you over to your bed.
“You’re the queen right now.”
You pulled off your dress and stood there in your bra and panties as Sam pulled you toward your bed to lay beside him, his hand caressing down the side of your body.
He moved his fingers over the lace of your bra to find your nipple, and when it was discovered, he pinched it to see your reaction. The way your eyes closed halfway and your mouth opened was everything. He reached behind you to expertly unhook your bra and looked down on you.
“You're so beautiful.”
And he dipped his head running his tongue around the edges of your areola, making your nipple rock hard against his breath. Then, he started sucking in earnest, his huge hand going to tweak and play with the other. You threw your head back in earnest, the feeling in your cunt growing with each pull of his mouth. You started moaning.
“You mean to tell me…. That no one has ever… had the pleasure…”
Sam asked the important question between having his mouth on you. He couldn’t get enough.
You shook your head and furrowed your brow. It was taking you out of the moment. Sex was just a means to an end for you up until now.
“I suck them off, and they’re satisfied. S’not a big deal….. Ahhhhh.”
Sam stopped what he was doing to look into your eyes.
“It is a big deal, Bunny. You deserve everything.”
Sam tenderly kissed your lips as he pulled your panties off, and then returned to your breasts. Tears slipped down your face to the pillow beneath your head as he finally parted your legs. His hand, led by his long middle finger slid down your wet, wet folds to play in your slick.
“Mmmmmm. That’s that shit I like.”
Sam rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations reached your nipple, causing you to arch into his mouth and hand. Sam’s fingers worked your clit and you could feel it get hard and plucky. You heard the sloshing wetness of your arousal. So did Sam. He pulled off to look at you again.
“You ever play with yourself?”
The look on his face was part possession and part genuine concern.
“Of course. But not this goooddddd…. Shit Sam. I just hit it and quit it…. Fuckkkk that feels good.”
Sam was plucking your nipple with one hand and rubbing your clit in expert circles with the other, watching the ecstasy on your face as you neared your peak.
“C’mon for me now. Cum. right here in my hand…Yes…. That’s a girl…”
It hit you like a ton of bricks.
“Holy mother of……ssshhhhhhiiiiittttt! Sam! Fuckkkk fuck fuck fuck!”
You tried to grab his hand to move it away, but he was strong. Oh so strong. He didn’t stop.
“Sam… I… Sam stop..I can't…”
“You can, and you will. Take it. You’re tough. You can take it.”
You convulsed as your pulses slowed down and you tried to relax.
“That’s a girl. Just give it to me. Let me have it. Love that shit. You’re beautiful right now, you know that?”
You calmed under his praise and got into the groove of his pleasure.
Sam’s fingers started exploring you, one of them sliding easily inside you, so he added another, but when he reached the second knuckle, you clamped down hard.
“Shit, Bunny. You’re so so tight.”
Sam looked at you with lust and you could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, his precum making a mess.
“Thought that first one would have loosened you up. Looks like you need at least one more.”
Your eyes grew wide as he slid down your body, fingers still inside you, but now his mouth clamping around your clit, which was still sensitive. Your knees closed around his head and he pried them off with one hand.
“Take it Bunny. You deserve.”
It was the last thing he said before he destroyed your soul with his mouth. He licked and sucked and lapped, and his fingers slid inside you and curled the spark of pain muted by the fireworks behind your eyes as you came harder than you ever had in your life, including a few minutes earlier.
“Hnnnnh, hunnnnnnhh. Sam…”
He was kneeling up now, grabbing for his pants and a condom. When you saw the foil packet, you stopped him.
“No Sammy. Wanna feel you.”
Sam raised his eyebrow.
“Mom put me on the pill when I was 13. It’s like a vitamin now. I’m good.”
Sam nodded and his thumb went to your still vibrating clit as he swiped his head in your viscous slit. He managed to pop his thicker-than-you-thought head inside you, but you yelped in pain as he tried to slide in.
He leaned down, arms on either side of your head as you clutched his shoulders.
“You good?”
You nodded, tears in your eyes as you smiled.
“I want it, I need it. Give it to me.”
Sam looked at you, shook his head and smiled.
He slid inside you slowly, seeming to grow wider and longer with each inch that he gave you. The burning between your legs was soothed by his praise and tender kisses on your forehead.
“There you go. Feels so so good for me Bunny. You’re doing so good. I can’t believe this… Make me wanna cum already. This pussy is so tight. And so good. Better than I’ve ever had…”
Sam relaxed you, and you began to enjoy that he was taking you apart. When your moans matched his thrusts was when he started to give it to you, his will power waning.
You were the epitome of desire.
He hiked your leg above his hip so that he could dig deeper and his thumb found your clit again.
“One more Bunny. Just one more…”
He felt you flutter around him and he gripped the base of his cock.
“Sammy….”
“Yes… oh… fuck yes….”
“Ohhh! Ah!”
Your cream gushed around him as you came and Sam grunted and let go inside you.
“Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk aahhhhhhh ahhhh. Fuck!”
Sam felt like he his balls would never empty and he slumped on top of you, feeling your arms snake around him to hold him.
“Mmmm… Sammy.”
He could hear the smile in your voice. He leaned up off of you and kissed your nose, looking into your eyes.
“Are you okay?”
You smiled at him and Sam’s heart was gone. You had it locked up.
“Better than okay.”
He kissed you again.
“Stay right here.”
He went to the bathroom, coming backwith a washcloth and tenderly cleaned you up. You heard the bath running.
“You’re going to be sore.”
“Yes. I’m going to feel you for a week.”
Sam grinned and you saw his cock come to life. You smirked and gingerly moved ot get out of bed.
“Join me in the bathtub Sammy. Wanna try the wet and wild….”
Sam was hypnotized by the sway of your ass.
He didn’t think of the implications of what just happened. He’d had a taste, and his hunger was voracious. He just wanted you.
And that would become a problem.
Reblogging is always a good thing if you liked it.
#sam wilson#sam wilson x reader#mob boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader#sam wilson x rumlow! reader#mob boss! sam wilson#this thing of ours au#sam wilson x black! reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#brock rumlow#brock rumlow x reader#mob!steve rogers#mob! bucky#mob! sam wilson#Sam x Bunny#ttoo
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Toxic Sludge Yaoi Tournament: Stannarrator (Stanley Parable) Vs Winterbones (MCU)
(No images provided. Vote for whichever one you like more.)
Propaganda under cut. Note: spoilers for these medias may be below.
Stannarrator propaganda
""aww they're so cute together!" WRONG narrator makes stanley die or otherwise tortures him in several endings. stanley has no way out of this cycle other than the player (YOU!!) closing the game and never opening it ever again"
Winterbones propaganda
"Bucky is a terrifying mind-controlled assassin by day, helpless, barely-there whumpee by night. Fanonically Rumlow is his sadistic primary handler."
#tournament#toxic yaoi#proship safe#proship tournament#proship#anti anti#polls#toxicsludgeyaoitournament#stannarrator#the stanley parable#stanley parable#tsp stanley#tsp narrator#narrator x stanley#mcu#marvel#winterbones#bucky barnes#brock rumlow#winter soldier#crossbones
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Hell Bent For Leather Part 1
Masterlist
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Minor Steve Rogers X Natasha Romanov
Summary: You're on the run from your old motorcycle club and abusive ex-boyfriend. You run into a man with the most beautiful blue eyes who somehow finds out who you're running from. He offers you protection and reunites you with someone who you thought was dead.
Tags/Warnings: Biker AU, Paste Abusive Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Brock Rumlow is a dick
A/N: There is little reader descriptions--only things mentioned is that reader is smaller than Bucky and has hair long enough to braid and be put in a ponytail. Tittle and chapter titles come from the song Hell Bent For Leather by Judas Priest.
Chapter 1: Seek him here, seek him on the highway
You had ridden out of there as fast as your motorcycle could take you in the early hours of the morning, unsure where the roads would take you. How could you know? You were never allowed off of the property of the clubhouse unless it was for work or if he was with you. After months of slowly saving up money from your job, you had enough to finally get out.
Two years. Two long years you had been in that damned club.
Two years since you had lost the only family you had left.
The road seemed to have stretched on for miles. You wanted to get out of the territory of the club and at least a few towns over. But you needed to stop, you were getting tired. The sun was beginning to set.
The sun had gone down when you had finally found a place to stay. An old motel right off the road right before an intersection. The sign by the road read ‘Maximoff’s Motel’ in big red painted letters. The open sign out front had flickered slightly as you pulled into the nearly empty parking lot.
The boy behind the counter eyed you suspiciously. He looked you up and down a few times. You eyed him back. He was small but lean; his bleached hair looked almost silver under the lights. He looked young, too young to be running a motel alone late at night.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” He finally spoke after looking at you so intensely.
His Eastern European accent shocked you a bit. You were used to the country and southern accents and the dialog that came from your old club that made you think that they were uneducated. Most of them probably were.
“One room, just for the night,” Your voice came out harsh from not speeching all day. You grunted a ‘please’ at the end.
He asked if you wanted a single or double bed, to which you replied with single. Your voice still sounded harsh as if you were crying. Which you had been hours ago when you first left.
He handed you a room key after you paid him for the night. You thanked him and he nodded in reply. He was pressing numbers on an old telephone as soon as you turned around to find your room.
You were unable to sleep. The fear of him finding you and dragging you back prevented you from sleeping for more than about three hours.
He would not have noticed that you were gone until he got back from work a little after 4 PM. Even then, he usually did not come to find you until later in the night when he wanted physical intimacy from you. Only then would he notice that your motorcycle was gone. That had given you enough time after he left in the morning to get as far as possible without leaving any clues in which direction you had gone in.
He would not send the entire gang to go find you. He would have done it himself. But he only had so much time outside of the club.
You finally turned over to look at the time on the analog clock after refusing to look when you first awoke. 5:47 AM. After groaning and changing into the only other change of clothes you brought, you left to go back to the check-in.
There was someone else behind the counter this time. A young woman with auburn hair now sat in the boy's place. She looked roughly the same age as the boy, maybe younger. She looked more lively than the boy looked last night. You did not blame him though considering how late it was.
She greeted you with a friendly hello in the same Eastern European accent and asked if you needed anything. You asked for another night in your room, in which she happily allowed after you placed the cash on the counter. After some hesitation, you asked her where the nearest town was to find a job.
You must have caught her by surprise because she blinked a few times before answering, “Turn left at the intersection. There’s a small town about 5 minutes down the road. The diner is still requesting help.”
You thanked her kindly. Her face seemed to have softened before replying with a you’re welcome and a sweet smile.
True to the young woman’s words the diner had been looking for hires. The older waitress who you had talked to looked wearily at you. Everyone in the diner had seen you roll in on your motorcycle. Hell, the entire town had seen you come in.
You must have looked desperate because the woman had given you the job and uniform and asked you to come in the next day.
You were unable to sleep again that night. Whether it was the jitters to have to start a new job or the fact that he could have caught up to you by now, you were unsure.
The clock beside you told you that it was a little after five in the morning. You were not going to get any more sleep and you had to be at the diner at six.
You relished under the hot water in the shower for a long time. The water at the clubhouse was always cold and the men never seemed to have minded. You never had time to enjoy showers anyways, you did not trust the men in the club when you were most vulnerable.
You rushed to get ready, unaware of how much time you had accidentally spent in the shower.
Stopping by the check-in again, both the young woman and the young man were there. They had been conversing with one another before you had stepped in. You asked for another night and you thanked the girl again for recommending the diner.
She beamed at you and the man’s facial expression seemed to have softened when he saw the look on her face.
Working at the diner was not too hard. You had worked at a bar when you were back at the club; bartending was not too different from waitressing. Most of the customers were elderly and did not seem to have minded if you made a mistake with their order. Despite this, they still tipped you well, which you greatly appreciated. While you for thankful for the job, it was not the best pay.
You had been working at the diner for about a week. You rode in on your motorcycle every morning and returned to the motel every night. The routine made you forget what you were running away from. It had not bothered you because you knew that he would have caught up to you by now.
Instead of asking for another night every morning you had asked for another week at the motel, paying with the tips you saved up from the week before. The young woman gave you a deal since you were planning on staying for a while. You thanked her endlessly and she gave you another one of her bright smiles.
It was suspected to be like any other day at the diner: clock in, prepare for the day, take orders, and do your job. What you had not expected was the man that rolled into the diner with a scowl.
“Who’s bike is outside?” His voice roared over the quiet chatter of the customers, silencing them all.
You turned around and were met with a gruff-looking man. His bright blue eyes swept over the diner, undoubtedly looking for someone.
“Mine.” You answered. You knew by now that you were the only person who owned a motorcycle on that side of town.
His eyes stopped on you. The scowl on his face disappeared. You knew you were not who he was expecting. He stalked up to the counter you were standing behind. He asked in a softer tone this time. “You in a club, sweetheart?”
You frowned. That was not the type of question you were expecting. Hell, you were not sure what you were expecting when he came in and started yelling about your motorcycle. And the use of a nickname at the end made you frown deeper.
“Not anymore.” You replied truthfully with a frown still adorned on your face.
“And why is that?” He asked, leaning forward on the counter and frowning as well.
Another question. “I got out.” He gave you a weird look, “For a good reason.”
“What’s a good reason, huh?”
His continuous questions were starting to piss you off. He had no business to ask you these questions in the first place. It was not a topic that you wanted to discuss with anyone. Let alone a stranger. You were trying to forget your past and the man at the counter in front of you, who you still have yet to learn the name of, would not leave you alone.
“Do you consider kidnapping me and killing my sister a good enough reason?” You answered in a low tone, but the anger in your voice was evident.
His eyes widened and he leaned off the counter. He was silent for a moment, thinking before speaking.
“Shit, honey I’m sorry.”
He looked genuinely sorry. It took you by surprise. He backed off and walked out without looking back at anyone.
You ignored the nickname and watched him leave. There was a motorcycle parked next to yours. You watch him as he swung his leg over it and rolled out of the parking lot.
Your manager who had watched the entire encounter told you to have the rest of the day off after that.
#bucky barnes x reader#biker au#marvel#mcu#mcu fanfiction#steve rogers#natasha romanov#howling commandos#wanda maximoff#pietro maximoff#brock rumlow
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Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3
Summary: You find out the truth about Fury and, after he brings you up to speed, you make plans to take down Hydra for good.
Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader, platonic!Nick Fury x F!Reader, platonic!Maria Hill x F!Reader
Warnings: Language. Pierce being a dick. Mentions of death. Mentions of fighting and fire arms. The Winter Soldier, he's a warning. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?
Word Count: 3.8K
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
The ride is quiet until Steve, who was shocked into silence until this moment, says “It was him.”
You look at him on your right but his gaze is to the floor. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”
“How's that even possible?” Sam says from in front of Steve. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”
“Zola.” Steve answers without skipping a beat. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…” he trails off, looking up at Sam.
“None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha says and you turn your attention on her.
“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” You're too busy looking at Natasha’s palling face to be sad for Steve.
“We need to get a doctor here.” You say, your eyes landing on the blood on her shoulder, which apparently Sam noticed too.
“We don't put pressure on that wound,” he says, turning to the agent next to him “she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”
The guard pulls out an electric rod and looks like he's gonna use it on Sam but, suddenly, he pokes the other guard with it.
You're all so fucking confused until the guard takes out his helmet to reveal a groaning Maria Hill.
“That thing was squeezing my brain.” she looks at all of you while you let out a breath of relief, but she lands on Sam and then looks back at Steve, pointing at him. “Who’s this guy?”
“Long story” you say and, when she narrows her eyes at you, you roll your own. “I’m handcuffed too, I’m obviously on your side.” you say while raising your cuffed hands and raising an eyebrow.
She softens but relented only after receiving a nod from Steve, confirming what you're saying.
She helps you escape and soon you're entering a seemingly abandoned facility, Natasha leaning on you for balance.
A man you recognize as one of the doctors that were operating on Fury runs towards you and you frown.
What the hell’s going on?
“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint.” Hill says to the doctor.
“Maybe two.” Sam adds.
“Let me take her.” the doctor says, but Maria stops him.
“She’ll want to see him first.” she says while she leads the way, the doctor helping you carry Natasha.
Hill takes you to a room where you’re all shocked to find Fury lying in a bed, alive.
“About damn time.” he says and you almost cry after hearing his voice.
You all sit down and, as the doctor starts to work on Natasha’s wound next to you, you all listen intently as Fury explains what’s going on.
“Lacerated spinal column,” he ends by listing his injuries “cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache.”
“Don't forget your collapsed lung.” the doctor says from Nat’s other side.
“Oh, let's not forget that.” Fury says sarcastically “Otherwise, I'm good.”
“They cut you open,” Natasha says, you knew she took it hard after all. “your heart stopped.”
“Tetrodotoxin B.” He says like it was obvious. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”
“Why all the secrecy?” Steve voices what you're all thinking.
“Yeah.” you add, obviously hurt. “Why not just tell us?”
“Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful.” Hill answers for him.
“Can't kill you if you're already dead.” Fury seems amused with himself, then gets more serious. “Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.”
You try not to take that too personally and, glancing at Natasha, you can tell when she meets your eyes that she's trying to do the same.
-
Fury gives you guys some time to process everything before you move to a room with a table to start strategizing on how to move forward.
“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury says while looking at a picture of a young Pierce. “He said, Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” He finishes looking at you guys.
“We have to stop the launch.” Natasha says, ignoring Fury’s last remark.
“I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore.” He says while opening a case containing three chips.
“What's that?” you and Sam ask at the same time, glancing at each other.
“Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet,” Hill says, turning her computer around and showing you “they'll triangulate with Insight satellites becoming fully weaponized.”
“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury cuts in.
“One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational” she hesitates for a moment “a whole lot of people are gonna die.”
“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We need to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left-” Fury gets cut off by Steve.
“We're not salvaging anything.” he says sharply. “We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD.”
“SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” Fury says defensively.
“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends.” Steve has his Captain voice on and you know there's no room for discussion. “SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”
“Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Nobody else says anything, just watching back and forth from Fury to Steve.
“And how many paid the price before you did?”
“Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Fury says after a moment.
“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” He's almost glaring now. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”
“He's right.” Hill simply says, nodding.
Fury looks at Natasha, but she simply stares back and he knows he’s not gonna have any help from her, so he turns to you.
“You’re okay with this, Agent?” he asks you and you don’t even have to think twice about it.
“We took an oath to protect people, Fury.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “If taking down Shield does that, and I believe it does, I’m game.” you shrug.
He then turns to the last person in the room.
“Don't look at me.” Sam says, also shrugging. “I do what he does, just slower.”
You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.
“Well,” He starts, sitting back and sighting, looking at all of you before staring back at Steve. “It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.”
After you make our plan, Steve goes outside for some air. You and Sam watch him leave, then look at each other, a silent question hanging between you two.
“You go.” you tell him and he nods before following after the supersoldier.
When you turn around you’re met with Fury and Hill’s curious looks and Natasha’s smirking face.
“What?” you say annoyed, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.
“You and Wilson, huh.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Romanoff.” you tell her as you sit back down. “He’s a nice person, you know as well as I do how rare it is to find that in our line of work.” your gaze shifts to the table but you can still feel their gazes on you.
“You couldn’t have known, YN.” Fury says, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes snap up to his, he's never called you by your first name.
“I should’ve, Nick.” you exchange the favor. “All the closed meetings, all the shady attitudes… I should’ve seen it. I’m trained to see it.” you're frustrated with yourself, with all the adrenaline out of your body now you’re left only with guilt.
Surely if you’d have seen it sooner you could’ve done something. Maybe the outcome would’ve been different.
“They tricked all of us.” Nat says, glancing at Fury and resting her hand on your shoulder.
“You’re a good agent,” Hill interjects, “don’t doubt yourself because of those traitors.”
“You’re right.” You nodded after a moment, putting your hand on top of Nat’s on your shoulder and looking back at Fury. “You’re all right.”
As you finish the details of the plan, only one thing is missing.
“How do we get the Director there?” Hill asks after Sam joins you, informing you that Steve went looking for a uniform, whatever that means, and would meet you there.
“Uh, I have an idea.” you says, leaning back in your chair and smirking.
They all suit up and leave after making sure your comms work.
“Be careful.” you hug Natasha before they leave “All of you.” you add looking over her shoulder at Hill that nods and Sam that grins and then winks at you.
You go back to the room where Fury is and he asks, “So where’s our ride?”
“On its way.” you simply say, checking your phone.
You can hear the others through the comms as they meet up with Steve, his own voice coming to your ear as he puts his own earpiece in.
“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.
“Awe, you miss me already, Cap?” you say and can hear the other’s laughter.
“You wish.” you can practically hear his eyes rolling.
“I do wish.” you answer, laughing. “I’m with Fury, don’t worry we’ll be there in time.”
You’re both suited up too when you hear loud noises coming from outside, Fury gives you a confused look but you just smile and wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you lead the way to the roof.
A helicopter lands and the pilot gets out and makes his way towards you, shaking your hand before heading downstairs where a car is waiting for him. You make your way to the pilot’s seat and Fury takes the co-pilot’s seat.
“Where did you even get this?” He questions you after putting on the headphones while you start the helicopter, ready for take off.
“You’re not the only one with connections, Director.” you answer, glancing at him with a smile and can hear him laugh next to you.
The whole time you can hear the team’s conversation, everything’s going according to plan thankfully, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet.
Just as you hear Natasha say “don’t worry, company’s coming” to who you assume is Pierce you land the helicopter on the landing pad.
You and Fury make your way inside and Pierce is nothing short of surprised at seeing Fury alive, much to your delight.
“Did you get my flowers?” he says sarcastically and, when Fury only glares at him, he turns his attention to you. “Agent.”
“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.
“I'm glad you're here, Nick.” he turns his attention back to him.
“Really? Cause I thought you had me killed.”
“You know how the game works.” Pierce says, as calm as a sociopath.
“So why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury has to know.
“Cause you were the best and the most ruthless person I ever met.”
“I did what I did to protect people.”
“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you know where I learned that?” He doesn’t give him time to answer, clearly enjoying his evil mastermind speech. “Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick, if you have the courage to take it.”
“No,” Fury says, taking Pierce to the retinal scanner, guns on him from both Nat and you “I have the courage not to.”
“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.
“You don't think we wiped your clearance from the system?” Pierce says smugly.
“I know you erased my password, probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” he takes off his eyepatch to reveal his scarred eye and you grimace. “you need to keep both eyes open.”
They both look into the retinal scanner, with Fury using his injured eye.
“Alpha Level confirmed.” The computer says “Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.”
You can hear Steve and Sam talking in your ear as you hold Pierce at gunpoint while Nat finishes uploading the files online.
Sam saying to Steve that he’s heavier than he looks makes you smile, Steve answering “I had a big breakfast” makes you almost snort because Sam made him that breakfast, but you stay professional.
You hear Sam apologizing to Steve after being grounded, his suit broken, and then Maria telling Sam that Rumow’s heading your way. Sam says he’s on it and then you hear Steve trying to plead with Bucky before he starts fighting him.
“Done.” Natasha finally says “And it's trending.”
Just then Pierce sets off the pins he gave the council members, causing it to burn a hole into them. You, Natasha and Fury point your guns at Pierce but he turns to Natasha.
“Unless you want a two inch hole in your sternum, I'd put that gun down.” Natasha doesn't back down though “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.”
You all reluctantly lower your weapons.
You can hear Sam saying “Man, shut the hell up” and frown, then you hear him fighting probably with Rumlow and you sincerely hope Sam lands some good punches.
“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asks into his radio.
“Sixty-five seconds to satellite link. Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now.” you hear the response.
You hear Hill counting down too. “Thirty seconds, Cap!”
you can hear Steve get out a strangled “Stand by.”
You hear him struggle, then he says “Charlie-” but gets interrupted by a gunshot and you hold your breath, already imagining the worst and barely hearing Pierce talking into his radio.
Just as they’re about to give the order to fire you hear Steve again saying “Charlie locked.” and you feel like all three of you let out a breath of relief at the same time. Although your relief is short lived as you hear Steve telling Maria to fire.
You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.
“What a waste.” Pierce says, disgusted at the sight in front of him.
“Are you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?” Nat says as smugly as she can with an active weapon pinned to her chest, but Pierce is having none of it.
“Time to go, Councilwoman.” he grabs her arm “This way, come on. You're gonna fly me out of here.”
“You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.” Fury tells him as they start to leave.
“You already did.” Pierce glances back at him “You will again when it's useful.” before he can even finish the sentence Natasha activates a small disc that emits an electric shock through her whole body and disables the pin, giving you a chance to kick the phone out of Pierce’s hand while it reboots.
Fury takes this time to pick up a gun and shoots twice at Pierce, then walks over to you as you kneel next to Natasha who’s unconscious on the floor.
“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”
“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.
She slowly opens her eyes. “Ow.” she lets out, before looking up at you two. “Those really do sting.”
You let out a breathless laugh and help her up, glancing back at Pierce dying behind you, a quiet ‘Hail HYDRA’ coming out of his mouth.
You help Natasha into the helicopter, before taking the pilot’s seat again, Fury next to you.
“Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!” you hear Sam say.
“Sam, where are you?” Natasha asks him as you try to look around for him.
“41st floor, north-west corner!” he sounds like he’s out of breath.
“We're on it, stay where you are.” You say, making your way to him.
“Not an option!” You can hear him pant like he’s running and as you look up you see him jumping out a window, so you tilt the helicopter just enough to allow him to slide in through the door sideways, and then you straighten just as fast, getting out of there just in time as the whole building comes down.
“41st floor! 41st!” Sam yells once he’s caught his breath.
“It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” You yell back at him while glancing behind you as he glares at you.
“Hill, where's Steve?” Natasha says in the comms “You got a location on Rogers?”
You fly around the wreckage, all of you trying to locate Steve although it feels almost impossible with all the damage left by the Helicarriers.
How can you find him? How could he even be alive after not only that fall, but all of the pieces still falling from the sky? He could’ve been knocked out, he could be at the bottom of the Pontomac, slowly drowning-
“There!” Sam interrupts your pessimistic thoughts as he yells and points at a figure along the shore of the river. “That’s him!”
You land as close as him as you can, running out with Sam beside you, Nat and Fury a little behind. As you get close you see that it is indeed Steve, kudos to Sam for his falcon eyes.
The more you get close the more you worry, he looks bloody and beaten. When you’re finally kneeling next to him, you’re praying that he’s alive.
Sam’s hand flies to his neck and you can tell he lets out a relieved sigh, before turning to you. “He’s got a pulse.” he says and you mirror his action.
You pick him up together and take him to the helicopter, placing him inside while Nat takes the pilot’s seat this time and goes straight to the hospital.
-
With Steve being in the hospital and Fury being technically dead, the joy of being summoned at a committee hearing falls on you and Natasha. After being sworn in, the Committee General asks the first question.
“Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?” You and Natasha look at each other and she answers.
“We don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”
“Well, he could explain how this country's expected to maintain its national security now that he, and you, have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”
“HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence.” you interject.
“Many of which you both seem to have had a personal hand in telling.” you hate to admit it but he’s got you there.
“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service record, both for this country” Scudder then looks directly at Nat “and against it, that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” he says and it takes everything in you not to snap at him as you clench your jaw.
Natasha can see it in your face as you look at each other, so she goes ahead and talks first.
“You're not gonna put me in a prison.” her eyes are still on you “You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?” You know she's asking you to finish her sentence.
“Do enlighten us.”
“Because you need us.” you say without missing a beat, looking away from Natasha and directly into the man’s eyes. “Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it.”
“So if you want to arrest us, arrest us.” Nat says after a pause.
“You'll know where to find us.” you finish.
You both get up and walk out, exchanging a small smile that's quickly hidden for the benefit of the cameras.
-
A few hours later you and Natasha get to the cemetery just as Fury’s walking away, smirking at each other when you catch the end of his sentence.
“You should be honored, gentlemen.” you say as you get closer.
“That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Natasha finishes for you.
“Not going with him?” Steve asks you as he meets you halfway.
“No.” you both say at the same time.
“Not staying here?” only Natasha answers this time.
“Nah. I blew all my covers,” she glances at you “I gotta go figure out a new one.”
“That might take a while.” he points out.
“I'm counting on it.” She smiles. “That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She hands Steve a file. “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”
“She's not a nurse.”
“And you're not a SHIELD agent.” you say and he smiles.
“What was her name again?” he asks.
“Sharon.” Natasha says and you add. “She's nice.”
Natasha kisses Steve on the cheek, hugs you and when she turns to walk away, he looks at you.
“Your face looks better.” you notice. “Well, as good as it can look, considering...” you trail off vaguely motioning to his face with a fake disgusted look and he laughs.
“Yeah, the serum can only do so much.” you laugh too, but then you hear Natasha and you both turn to her.
“Be careful, Steve.” she tells to him “You might not want to pull on that thread.”
And with that, she’s gone.
“You’re not going with Nat?” he asks you as you turn back to him.
“I figured you might need a hand.” you nod to the file in his hand and Steve opens it as Sam walks up to you guys while you steal a glance yourself at the photo of Sergeant Barnes in it.
“You're going after him.” Sam says and it's not a question, it's a statement.
“You don't have to come with me.” He says, his eyes on the file.
“I know.” Sam says, after a moment of silence you finally look away from the photo of 40s Bucky and you see both men looking at you expectantly.
“Chasing a 96 year old brainwashed assassin?” you says, a smile starting to grow on your face “Sounds fun.” you state and Steve nods.
“Really?” Sam deadpans. “What are your weekends like, YLN?”
You only smirk at him in response, then you both turn your attention back to Steve, his eyes back on the file.
“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”
#bucky barnes#avengers x reader#sam wilson#steve rogers#clint barton#natasha romanoff#avengers x platonic!reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu#nick fury#marvel#maria hill#captain america#captain america the winter soldier#captain america: the winter soldier#the winter soldier#shield#hydra#brock rumlow#alexander pierce
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SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Weeks 197 & 198
A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 30 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.
As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community. 💜💜
Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.
Click HERE for past reading lists.
For my Masterlist click HERE.
Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.
Page-break by @whimsicalrogers
Header by @fictional-affairs
If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.
I love you 3000 💜 Missy
My Angel - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie
Blue Bonnets - (Brock x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie
Mission Dad - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival
Open Your Eyes - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
Like Animals - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
One hundred degrees - (Steve x Gender Neutral Reader) - @holylulusworld
Lost in the Dark (Part 3) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim
Into You - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista
Code Red Delivery - (Ari x OFC) - @hollybee8917
Built Differently - Faboolous Fumbles - (Stucky x Reader) - @rookthorne
Snow - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan
Evermore - Part 2 - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog
Evermore - Part 3 - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog
Picnic - @nekoannie-chan
Finding Home (4) - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog
Indecent Proposal - (2) - (Stucky x Reader) - @holylulusworld
Reconnect - Where Did the Time Go? - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
Your Mark On Me - Part 8 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513
Between Past and Present - (Steve x Bucky) - @hollybee8917
Donut: The Hole Story - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog
Hidden Agendas - (Ari x Reader, Lloyd x Reader) - @labella420
Pain - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan
Welcome Home - (Curtis x Reader x Jake) - @stargazingfangirl18
In a Red Dress - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
Lighting the Flame Above - (Steve x Clint) - @hollybee8917
Experiment - (Brock, Logan H) - @nekoannie-chan
It's not the same - (Steve, Brock) - @nekoannie-chan
Saving the Captain - (Steve, Sinthea) - @nekoannie-chan
Security Jammies - (Ransom x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18
Goes With the Theme - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817
#saiyanprincessswanie#recommended reading#missy reads#missy reblogs#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#brock rumlow x reader#Ari levinson x ofc#ari levinson x reader#andy barber x reader#stucky x reader#lloyd hansen x reader#curtis everett x reader#jake jensen x reader#ransom drysdale x reader
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Year of WinterBones
Over at the WinterBones server, we've put together a year's worth of weekly prompts. They'll be posted over in the server and here, as well.
Each week will consist of three prompts: 2 SFW and 1 NSFW. You can use one, two, or all three if you like.
If you create a fanwork inspired by these, please tag it winterbones2024 so we can reblog it!
If you post your fanwork to AO3, we have a collection you can add it to: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/WinterBones2024
#winterbones#bucky barnes x brock rumlow#brock rumlow x bucky barnes#winter soldier x crossbones#crossbones x winter soldier
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Pretty Little Thing Part 7
18+ Minors dni
Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage),
Here is part 7. You told Bucky to fuck you like he owns you. This is pure filth. Pure and utter filth, can’t have it any other way when your abusive husband wants to spy on you. Bucky and you give your shitty husband a show oop- Please like, comment and reblog! <3
Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT (spanking, spitting, daddy kink, little voyeurism) , ANGST, forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, FLUFF
Word count: 4.4k
Part 6 here
Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hands firmly grabbing your hips, throwing you over his shoulder wasting no time carrying you to his bedroom. Your words went straight to his cock. He only had one goal in mind now; to fuck his pretty little angel into oblivion. Steve remained rooted in place, eyes wide, momentarily pinching himself to be sure he wasn’t experiencing sleep paralysis with Bucky’s demon ass. He popped in his air pods turning the volume all the up before digging further in Rumlow’s stalking.
Bucky shoved the door open, throwing you onto his bed, smirking at the way you bounced off the mattress. You crawled back onto the bed wearing nothing but his t-shirt, your knees pressed together waiting obediently for him to ruin you.
“Tell me what you want baby” Bucky stalked towards you, taking his time to remove his shirt, loving the way you shyly gazed at his body, nervously biting your thumb.
“Want you James” You peeked at him through your lashes as he crawled towards you, his thick arms and muscular body trapping you underneath him.
“New rule. You don’t need clothes when you’re in my room baby” He ran his tongue up your neck, nipping at your earlobe, his voice dark with lust. His hands gripped the neckline, easily tearing the shirt down the middle, tossing it aside. You whimpered as he towered over you, his hands tugging at your nipples making you moan and squeeze your thighs together for some relief. Bucky noticed, moving his hands to your knees, spreading them apart, groaning at the way your folds glistened, your pussy already soaked before he even touched you.
“Why are you so wet baby, who is all this for” Bucky ran his fingers through your slick, coating his fingers before sucking them, moaning at your taste. “So sweet baby, you taste so fucking sweet”
“All for you baby, so wet for you, please James” Your needy voice made his cock jump, your innocent face and pouty lips only made him want to ruin you more. He moved to lay down on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs to keep them apart, his mouth ghosting above where you needed him most. He nipped at the soft flesh on your inner thighs making you cry out, softly kissing the area after.
“Please what baby, tell me what you want” He sucked and kissed your thighs closer and closer to where you need him, purposely avoiding the area, waiting for you to beg.
“I-I want...I want…please baby” Your face heated up as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing along your folds, smirking as you squirmed under his hold.
“Use your words babygirl, tell me what you want me to do” His voice was more commanding now, his grip on your thighs firm, holding you still.
“Eat me out James, please!”
Bucky had a wolfish grin, diving straight into your dripping pussy, lapping and drinking every bit of your arousal as you cried out for him. Your hands gripped the sheets as his licked a long stripe from your core to your clit, moving back to dip his tongue into your needy entrance, his nose brushing your clit as he buried his tongue as far as it would go. He could feel your walls flutter, brining you close to your climax.
“Don’t stop James, don’t stop don’t stop” Your high pitched needy whines made his cock throb, aching to be inside you. Bucky flicked his tongue directly onto your clit, loving the way your body jolted as he rutted against the mattress.
“So sensitive baby, tell me, has anyone one else ever gotten to taste this sweet pussy before”
You shook your head, your lips caught between your teeth silencing the screams that wanted to escape every time his tongue glided over your clit. “No, no one else but you” You whined out, feeling his lips press soft kisses onto the sensitive bundle of nerves, aching for some friction. Bucky growled, wanting to wreck you with his mouth knowing no one else had ever gotten to touch you this way.
“My perfect angel, be a good girl and stay still okay?” His dark eyes bore into you as he latched his lips onto your clit, sucking your sensitive nub while swirling his tongue around. He groaned feeling your walls gush, covering his chin in your arousal.
“Oh God baby” You cried out in pleasure, your back arching off the bed, feeling a harsh slap to the side of your thigh forcing you back down.
“Stay still or I won’t let you cum. You want to cum baby?”
You nodded, whimpering, trying to stay still, desperately gripping onto the pillows as Bucky resumed his assault on your clit, your orgasm approaching hard and fast. Bucky pushed a finger into your desperate core, pumping his fingers in and out, quickly adding a second when he felt your walls grip him tighter.
“Can feel you squeezing my fingers babydoll, you gonna cum like a good girl when I tell you?”
You looked at Bucky with glassy eyes, hardly able to nod, your entire body felt like it was on fire with the way he was suckling your clit and fingering you. His tongue swirled perfectly with his fingers, curling at that exact spot. You struggled to hold off, waiting for him to give you permission to cum.
“James please, I’m gonna cum I can’t hold it baby” Your head was thrown back onto the pillows, your hand grabbing onto his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your soaked needy pussy. “Please baby, please” Bucky groaned at the gentle burn he felt every time you tugged his hair. The vibrations from his voice made it impossible for you to hold off any longer.
“Aww, my baby wants to cum? Did you want to cum baby?” Bucky looked at you sympathetically, while pumping his fingers at an impossibly fast rate causing you to scream out. You felt a pressure in your core you never felt before, your walls gripping onto his fingers, convulsing and dripping. “Tell me y/n, did you want to cum?”
“Yes baby, please, please, please let me cum, want to cum” You struggled not to thrash against the bed, your clit throbbing as his tongue flicked over it.
“Cum for me baby, cum now”
“OH FUCK JAMES JAMES JAMES” Tears spilled down your cheeks as waves and waves of pleasure washed over you like never before. Your entire body went rigid, arousal gushing out of you, soaking his hand. Buckys fingers didn’t let up, continuing to curl and pump into you, groaning as he watched your face contort with pleasure.
“Fuuuck that’s it baby, squirt all over my fingers angel, make a mess on my bed baby” Your eyes rolled back feeling your core clench and flutter again. Your moans were pornographic, feeling a second wave of pleasure washing over you, throwing your into a second unexpected climax.
“I-I-I c-u-cumming a-again baby oh god-
Your body went limp on the bed, your skin flushed, glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Bucky slowly removed his fingers, moaning as he licked them clean. He gently ran his tongue all over your sensitive folds, kissing your sensitive clit as you came down from your high. You sat up, your hands reaching for Bucky’s face, pulling him for a desperate kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, moaning when he felt your hands palm at his aching cock, tugging down at his pants, needing to taste him. He cupped your face, looking at you softly loving how fucked out you already looked before he even started.
“You want my cock doll?” he cooed, his thumbs caressing your cheeks “Tell me what you want baby” He moved on top of you, his thick clothed length right in front of your face, nudging your lips.
“Want to taste you baby, fuck my mouth James” You kissed his hard cock, palming him as he threw his head back, groaning. He stood up, tugging his pants down, his cock slapping your face as it sprang out. You took his cock, rubbing it along your lips, loving the way it glided on you, already dripping with his arousal. Bucky gathered your hair in his hand, moaning at the way precum glistened off your lips. You looked at him with wide eyes, licking your lips clean, moaning at the way he tasted.
“You’re my little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded, stroking his cock, playing with his balls in the other hand. The grip on your hair tightened as you teased the tip of his uncut cock with your tongue, licking up the beads of arousal that poured out. “Show me baby; suck my cock like a good little slut”
Bucky laid back on the pillows, his legs spread as you kneeled between them, keeping your eyes on him. You took his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his thick length, moaning as he started to move your head up and down making you take him deeper. “You can take more, can’t you baby?”
Yours hands gripped onto his thighs as he thrusted into your mouth making you gag on his cock. Your eyes watered as his tip hit the back of your throat, precum and spit soaking his balls. You took a breath through your nose, taking his entire length down your throat, catching him off guard. Bucky groaned, his head thrown back as you bobbed your head up and down with his cock down your tight throat.
“Oh fuckkk y/n, just like that baby, just like that, take my cock in your mouth” He held your face in place as he continued to grind his hips into your mouth, his cock leaking each time you choked on him. You pulled of his cock for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, drool covering your lips, moving down to take his balls in your mouth as you tugged his length.
“Fuck yess baby, suck my balls babydoll, get them nice and wet, such a perfect little whore for me” He gripped your hair, brining your face closer as you lapped and sucked him, rolling his balls in your mouth, continuing to stroke his cock.
“You taste soo good babyy” You moaned, running your tongue up the prominent vein that ran along his cock, wrapping your lips around the sensitive head again. Every groan that left his lips caused your stomach to clench, your pussy aching to be stretched and filled by him. Your hands trailed down to play with your clit, dipping a finger into yourself, whimpering as you fucked yourself while sucking him.
“My desperate little cockslut, why are you touching yourself baby” Bucky pulled you off his cock, holding you on top of him, running his tongue along your lips, soaked with his precum and your spit.
“Need you, want your cock in me” You whined, moaning when Bucky nipped your lips, running his hands down your back, spanking your ass.
“Good girls don’t touch themselves baby” Bucky cooed, shaking his head, the coolness of his metal hand easing the sting slightly before you spanked you again, making you cry out. “You want my cock to stretch you out?”
You nodded, sitting up on his dripping length, rutting yourself on him, moaning as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock.
“Look at you, rubbing yourself on me, why are you so slutty baby?” You moaned, grinding yourself harder as he stroked your thighs, soothing your skin before slapping your ass again.
“Only slutty for you daddy” You whined for him, not noticing what you called him, your eyes squeezed shut as you rocked your hips on him. Bucky stilled, the bruising grip he had on your thighs was going to leave marks as he squeezed the soft flesh.
“What did you call me?” He snarled his voice deep, eyes dark with nothing but lust.
You froze, eyes wide, not realizing you let it slip out. You bit your lip nervously, your eyes refusing to meet his.
“I….I didn’t…”
“Say it” Bucky spanked you, squeezing your ass in his hands as you cried out, tears prickling your eyes from the sting. “Say it again baby”
“Daddy!” Your needy voice made his cock twitch as he rubbed the sensitive skin, your arousal soaking his length.
“That’s right baby, I’m your fucking daddy” Bucky smirked, wiping away a tear that streamed down your cheek. “Poor baby, you need my cock, don’t you?”
You nodded, rubbing yourself on him, “Want to fuck you, need daddy’s cock to stretch me”
Bucky could have sworn he had died and gone to heaven in that moment, watching you desperately rut and grind against him, begging for his cock, he felt his balls grow heavy with cum each time you whimpered.
“Come here baby, take what you need” He settled against the pillows, a devilish grin on his lips as you straddled his thick muscular thighs positioning yourself above his dripping cock, pumping it a few times before lining yourself up with him.
“Go on baby, ride daddy’s cock” Bucky’s arms were folded under his head, biting his lip as he watched you struggle to sink down on him, your nails digging into his chest leaving little crescent indents.
“You’re so fucking big daddy” You whined, your head thrown back as you started slowly inching down on him until you bottomed out. You never felt this full before in your life, his cock filling you up more than you thought was physically possible. You barely moved, feeling the sting slowly melt into pleasure making your walls squeeze his cock.
You started the slowly bounce on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix each time you came down. Your lips were parted; brows knitted together as you started to move faster, making a creamy mess all over his cock. Bucky groaned, watching the way your pussy swallowed him, your arousal squirting out of you each time your hips came down.
“O-oh f-fuck, hurts so good baby, why is your cock so big daddy” You felt your thighs burn as you continued to move, your climax steadily building in your belly. You felt your walls struggle clench and squeeze around his thick length.
Bucky watched the way your breasts bounced in front of his face; moving up slightly to pull your stuff peak into his mouth. You moaned, gushing around him as he continued to suck and swirls his tongue around your taut nipple. His hand moved to rub slowly circles on your sensitive clit, loving the way you mewled when he sped up his movements.
Your movements began to stutter as you felt your climax build up, gripping on his shoulders, struggling to stay up. Your arms gave way as you fell against him; moaning into the crook of his neck as you felt the band tighten, ready to snap.
Bucky stroked your hair, rubbing your back as you panted against him, your legs trembling from exhaustion.
“Aww my cockdrunk baby, is daddy’s fat cock too much for you to handle?”
You whimpered, nodding as your body went limp, clinging onto him. Bucky smirked, planting his feet and wrapping his arms around you, fucking up into you as you cried on, biting down onto his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“You want to cum on daddy’s cock baby? Cum on my cock baby, fuck- make a nice creamy mess on me”
“I’m cumming daddy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Your pussy rapidly clenched around him, the band snapping, your vision going white, blood coursing through your ears, all your senses heightened.
“You like that huh baby? You like daddy’s cock? Fuck squeezing me so tight angel, pussy was made for me”
Bucky could feel his cock throb, desperate to fill you with loads of his cum, struggling to hold off as you moaned, squeezing him. He pulled you off his cock, pushing you down onto the bed with your ass up and face pushed down. His hand pressed onto your back making you arch more, getting the perfect full view of your swollen abused pussy. A mixture of your arousal and his precum dripped out of you as Bucky smeared his swollen head through your folds, smirking as you whimpered from sensitivity. He gripped his cock, nudging against your entrance.
“Think you can give me one more baby?”
“S’sensitive daddy, c-can’t” You whined, your voice muffled, buried in the mattress.
“Can’t princess? You sure baby?” Bucky pushed the tip of his cock in, moaning at the new angle letting him fuck you even deeper than before. He grabbed your hips, slamming into you in one swift motion.
“AH FUCK DADDY” You cried out, you could feel his cock all the way you your stomach, hitting your g spot, black spots already clouding your vision as you felt your third orgasm starting to build. “Pleasee fuckk me daddyy”
Having you bent over in front of him, begging for his cock, made his cock throb, a steady dribble of his arousal pouring into you. His pace picked up as he remembered your words from earlier. “Fuck me like you own me”, possessiveness clouding his mind and he started to ram his cock into you at an indescribable pace.
“Tell me you fucking slut, does your husband fuck you like this?” His balls slapped against you, heavy with cum, ready to fill you any second. “Did he ever get to touch you like this?”
“N-no, only you baby, only you” You slurred out, cockdrunk over the way his fingers dug into your skin, his hips snapping and bruising your ass.
“Who owns you baby, who do you belong to?!” Bucky’s mind continued to fog between pleasure and possession, leave your pussy gaping and stretched out, he had to ruin you for anyone else,. His breaths grew heavy as his balls started to tighten, his spine tingling and he felt warmth begin to spread through is body.
“I’m yours daddy, all yours” Your voice was raspy from screaming, eyes rolling back as his balls slapped against your clit, the band ready to snap again.
“Show your husband how good girls cum baby, my slutty little fucktoy, you ever gonna let him touch you? Fuck you the way I do? Make you scream like this?!”
“O-o-nly you James, f-f-uck only you, he’s never touched me!” You screamed out as the band snapped, sending you into a spiral, your body slack as you squeezed and milked his cock. You gripped onto the sheets, tearing them as he continued to pound into you chasing his release.
“And he never fucking will, this pussy is fucking MINE” Bucky roared, his thrusts stilling as he gripped your hips, slamming his cock as deep as it would go shooting endless loads of hot cum into you. His body gave way, collapsing on top of you, gently rutting inside you, loving the way his sensitive cock continued to pour into you. He moved your now damp hair out of your face pressing sloppy kisses onto your temple, whispering sweet nothings as he came down from his climax.
“So full of my cum angel, you make me cum so hard for you baby” He laced his hands on top of yours, breathing in the scent of your hair, his cock slowly softening. Bucky hissed, pulling pulled his cock out, stroking your head as you whimpered from the soreness that began to set in.
“Come here babygirl” Bucky pull you up, setting you against the pillows, kissing your forehead, trailing kisses down your body. He laid on his stomach, spreading your legs apart; groaning at the way his cum dripped out of you. “Let me clean you up angel”
He licked up your mixed arousal, humming at the taste and the way you whined each time he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. His tongue swirled on the swollen nub causing you to cry out, pushing him away from overstimulation. He slapped the side of your thigh, draping his arm across your hips to keep you in place.
“Stay still princess, this pussy’s mine” He ran his tongue gently through your core, making sure to lick up every bit of his and your cum that soaked your puffy folds. He came up, his lips glistening with cum.
“Open up baby girl” Buckys fingers pressed into your cheeks, forcing you to open wide as he spit in your mouth.
You moaned at the taste, brining him down for a heated kiss, your tongue tangled with his as you relished the way his cum tasted mixed with yours. “You taste good daddy”
“My sweet angel, you did so good for me baby” Bucky pressed a soft kiss onto your forehead as you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. Your legs tangled with his as you snuggled into his chest, breathing in his scent. Your leg hitched around him, needing him closer, waves of sleep washing over you. Bucky let his hand trace over your body, stopping when you let out a pained whimper when he touched your ass. His heart dropped as you clutched onto him, your skin still stinging from earlier.
“Baby did I hurt you?”
“No, just sore” You smiled softly but he saw you wince as you shifted, his heart racing. Bucky slipped into the bathroom, returning quickly with a cool washcloth and some lotion.
“Here baby, is this okay?” Bucky laid the cool towel onto your sensitive skin, stroking your back as you laid on your stomach, sighing happily into the pillows.
“Feels good baby, thank you” You giggled at Bucky’s pouty face, his sad puppy dog eyes glancing up at you. He removed the cloth, peppering light kisses onto your skin before gently massaging a cool lotion onto the area. “This will help with some of the swelling, I’m sorry princess”
“Come here baby” You grabbed onto him, pulling him onto of you. You caressed his scruffy cheek, softly kissing him all over his face, suddenly biting his bottom lip that jutted out.
“Ow!” Bucky yelped as you held his lip between your teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh.
“Now we’re even” You grinned, playfully nipping his lips again, gasping as he suddenly rolled on top of you, pinning your hands above your head.
“Hmm, careful babygirl…might not be so gentle with you again” His eyes turned dark as he brushed his lips against yours. You spread your legs for him, biting his lip making him groan, his cock already stirring.
“Show me daddy”
It was going to be very a long night.
Rumlow’s office
Rumlow sat at his desk, his finger tracing over the scars you left him with as he twirled an ice cube in his glass, staring at the wedding portrait of you and him. It wasn’t difficult getting the cameras and sound set up; a few gentle threats to dispose of someone’s family was a convincing way to get what he needed.
He was seething the first say he saw you in Bucky’s room, no wedding ring on your finger, your nose tucked in a book, curled under the sheets, cuddled up beside him. Stupid cheating little bitch. Of course, you were disgustingly innocent, every time he had Walker or Loki check the footage of what you were up to, you were either sleeping or reading. He laughed to himself, thinking about how badly Bucky must have wanted to fuck you, only to be given the same cold shoulder he had to endure for months. A knock at his door broke him out of his thoughts, with a dishevelled looking Walker peeking inside.
“What do you want?” Rumlow barked, planning his next move, skimming through the files he had laid on his desk.
“Its about Barnes…uh- your wife…” Walker swallowed thickly; sweat beading at his forehead as he clutched a laptop to his chest.
“Hmm. Barnes and my wife. That dumb bitch wouldn’t know what to do with a cock if it slapped her in the face”
Walker nearly snorted, having watched Bucky’s cock hit your face, opening you mouth to gag and choke on his cock, sucking and bouncing on it like a porn star.
“Uh boss…you might want to see this…” His face was flushed red as he shifted at the door, desperately trying to hide his boner.
“What, does he have blue balls now? What is it?!” Rumlow snorted, his face slightly dropping as he saw Walker holding the laptop that streamed the footage from Bucky’s room. Rumlow glared at him, noticing the very obvious tent in John’s pants, his poor job at hiding it only made it worse.
“I swear to god motherfucker if you come an inch closer to me with that shit-
Before he could finish, Walker opened the laptop, pressing play, your pornographic screams filling the room. Rumlow felt his blood run cold as he watched you spread out on Bucky’s bed, moaning and crying out for him. His veins filled with rage as he forwarded the footage, unable to stop, watching you spread your legs for Bucky, shamelessly grinding on his cock, licking his cock, sucking his balls, letting him bend you over taking you from behind, letting him cum balls deep in you. He felt white hot anger as you lazily smiled at Bucky, letting him spit in your mouth, wrapping your naked body around his.
“THIS FUCKING LITTLE DIRTY SLUT” Rumlow grabbed his gun, shooting the laptop screen, silencing your moans, next sending two bullets to your wedding picture, aiming perfectly between your eyebrows. “THAT STUPID SLUTTY LITTLE WHORE” He replayed Bucky’s words in his head repeatedly “Does your husband fuck you like this?” his chest heaving with rage.
“Boss, what should we- Walker dodged the crystal glass chucked at his head, letting it smash on the wall.
“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THAT FUCKING SHIT OUT OF MY FACE”
Walker couldn’t tell if he was referring to the now broken laptop or his still obvious boner, immediately retreating from the office, not waiting to find out.
Rumlow paced around the room knowing it’d be difficult for him to attack you or Bucky directly, but he didn’t need to do that yet. He grabbed the files on his desk, calling Loki to take care of business. He skimmed through the files, his unhinged grin growing on his face.
Winifred Barnes, Rebecca Barnes, Sarah Wilson, Cass Wilson, AJ Wilson, Marisa Tomei.
“Enjoy his cock wile you can y/n”
Part 8
-
Taglist: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479
#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky#bucky barnes smut#mob bucky smut#bucky luff#bucky angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x you#mob bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x y/n#mob bucky x freader#mob bucky x y/n#mob bucky x you#mob bucky x reader#mob brock Rumlow#james bucky barnes#marvel fanfiction#marvel smut#marvel fluff#bucky barnes mob au#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky au#mob bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan
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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
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¦¦ The Hand That Feeds ¦¦
Bucky Barnes x Brock Rumlow
Tags/Warnings: Hydra Trash Party, Using the Winter Soldier as a plaything, Non-Con oral sex, mentions of abuse, brief blood and violence, happy ending! :D
Also on AO3 for those that prefer it!
When the command came to sit, he got to his knees and waited. The order could be followed up by a number of possible different scenarios, or none at all. Just a test of endurance as the cold from the concrete flooring seeped into his bones.
In the shorter periods between missions when he wasn't being stored in the deep freeze, Hydra's agents got to let loose on the Asset. The Winter Soldier. Anything went really, as long as it wouldn't ultimately compromise his functionality. You might be surprised at how huge a window that left for the things that could be done to him.
From the rhythmic taps and slaps on the cell door as the keycode was punched in, he knew that today it was Rumlow, one of his main handlers, and that he was in a good mood.
“Hi honey I'm home,” he hollers as he enters, “did ya miss me?”
The soldier bit his tongue just in case he ever answered in the affirmative. After all, Rumlow was the gentlest with him and he knew it. He treated him with some amount of respect while the others just used him like the tool he was supposed to be. In spite of his accelerated healing capability, Jack Rollins had still left him shitting blood for a day after one of his ‘recreational’ visits.
Brock swings around the metal folding chair he's carrying, snapping it open in front of the soldier and sitting down in front of him.
“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.” He drawls.
The soldier had noticed Brock using this nickname for him more recently. He didn't like it. It made his head swim and hurt.
“What a day… what a fucking day!” Brock is grinning widely as he leans back in the chair and the metal creaks under his muscled bulk.
The soldier remains still and silent, though when he hears the sound of the zipper his mouth floods with saliva. He likes to think that it's a conditioned response but he's actually not so sure anymore.
Rumlow eases his cock out of his pants and the soldier has nowhere else to look but straight at it, watching as he runs his hand slowly up and down the thick-veined length of himself a few times as he looks down into the blank blue eyes before him. When he pauses his movements and gives a nod of his head the soldier leans forward to wrap his lips around the tip of him, his tongue pressed up wet beneath the bulbous pink head, a bead of precum searing across his tastebuds. Rumlow groans, a low chuckle bubbling out of him as he closes his eyes and lets him get down to it. He trusts him enough not to bite his dick right off. There was a time early on in his conditioning when he would have, Brock was grateful he wasn't that guy, but that nasty little habit was electrocuted out of him soon enough.
Rollins claimed he had trained the gag reflex out of him, although Brock had joked it couldn't have been that hard given the small size of Rollins’ dick. Regardless, the Winter Soldier sucked cock like he was born for it.
“Fucking hell…” Brock groans as he watches him take him fully into his hot mouth “I said it before and I ain't afraid to say it again, you're better than any woman I've had, Jesus Christ!”
Rumlow liked to talk. It was a reliable indication of when he was going to finish when the filthy words just kept spewing out of his mouth like a river. But for now he was just getting warmed up.
“Ohh yeah, there we go. Fuuuuck me.” Brock purrs as the soldier gradually takes him deeper, sucking his entire length down his throat, drool starting to drip from his chin. “You get to be the fucking cherry on top of my glorious day, you know that?”
The soldier shifts on his knees, metal hand sliding to the base of his handler’s thick cock to cup his balls. He knows he likes the feel of the cool plates against them. His flesh hand sneaks down between his own legs, tugging at the canvas tac pants to give his own erection some room to swell. Rumlow is the only one that tolerates him touching himself. Every other basic need of his is taken care of, albeit in a regimented, carefully controlled way. This is the only part he has any modicum of autonomy over. He might be a legendary assassin but his body still yearns for carnal release sometimes.
Brock pipes up again between the echoing slurps and gruff groans they trade.
“Oh yeah, such a good fucking day. I got to kick your little boyfriend’s all-American ass up and down the compound, and it ain't often - fuck - that a guy can say that!”
The soldier didn't answer, kinda difficult to with a cock stuffed in his mouth anyway but he'd often hear Rumlow and the others refer to this person; ‘his boyfriend’, ‘Cap’, but to him he was just another target. Enhanced like he was, but just another target to take down when ordered.
Rumlow continued, his fingers combing through the soldier's lank hair. “God damn, if he knew I got to come back to this, oh yeah, I don't think he'd be too happy.” He laughs again, his hand gently guiding the man between his thighs as he swallows his cock down to the hilt and makes a strangled moan as the tip of him hits the back of his throat. “Not too happy at all.”
Rumlow grits his teeth as he feels himself getting close to going off. “Such a perfect fucking slut mouth on you, mm! Fuck it ain't gonna be long today, you ready for it, huh?”
Whether he's ready for it or not doesn't really figure into anything. The soldier turns his watery eyes up to meet Brock’s blown out dark brown stare, humming around him in answer, almost gagging as the man starts pumping his hips up off the chair, fucking his thick shaft down his abused throat, chasing his impending release.
“Oh shit, yeah yeah that's fucking right! Man if Steve fucking Rogers could see this… see his good ol’ pal Bucky taking my load like a fucking bitch-”
Steve . The soldier turns the name over in his fractured mind as everything else fades into the background. Why does it sound familiar, why does he feel the essence of it in his bones? No other names he had heard in his decades of service had shone out of the dark like this one did.
He's whipped back to the present. Rumlow’s face contorts as he starts spurting his warm salty cum over his tongue with a loud shout.
Then, something's different. Clearer.
He's standing at the open cell door, looking back at Rumlow screaming on the floor in a puddle of crimson clutching at his groin. Somehow this feels like the way it's supposed to go.
Bucky spits out the blood and cum, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He twists his foot, the plastic and wires of Brock’s communicator crushing to trash under his boot before he turns and stalks down the corridor.
He sharply rolls the shoulder of his left arm as he walks, the plates rippling into place all the way down, resetting. Everything is clicking into place. Just like his brain.
If he's lucky he's bought enough time to pay a visit to Rollins and the others before the alarm is raised that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
#bucky barnes x brock rumlow#winterbones#winter soldier x brock rumlow#hydra trash party#winter soldier angst fic
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