Tag: brock/wintersoldier

Ooh, Rumlow/Bucky dirtybadwrong is my jam. Just imagining Brock playing with Bucky while at a safehouse, dressing up the winter soldier in frilly lace for kicks, the large man straining the silky fabric. Making Bucky sit on his lap,, thick cock sliding along that sweet ass, watching the fucktoy move mechanically. Until Brock whispers some kind of trigger word, and suddenly, Bucky is horny and desperate and begging, willing to do anything, anything for that cock to be in his ass, in his mouth.

ooooohhh. yeeeeessss. there’s another one that’s really good, too… I’ll take a turn at it later

Brock has never played with dolls or anything, because he’s a man and his father would’ve beaten the shit out of him, but sometimes he thinks there might’ve been a damn fine fashion designer somewhere in his little boy heart.

“Turn,” he says. Curt and well-enunciated because that’s how one spoke to the asset during missions. Clear and uncomplicated instructions that were easy to follow. He still felt high on adrenaline, cock fat and painful in the thick material of his mission gear, but he wouldn’t miss this for the life of him.

Seeing the thing move in a short, perfunctory circle, muscles tense and power contained just for Brock’s personal satisfaction. He tried pale blue this time, but he feels like that isn’t its color even though he loves the style of the babydoll. The tiny straps across round, muscled shoulders – the strong pecs that look barely contained in the fabric.

The asset looked like a million dollar slut. The fabric barely brushed the tops of its hairy thighs, and Brock feels torn on whether or not he should shave it. He definitely did need to give it a bath, its hair was stringy and gritty again.

He dismissed the thought in favor of staring at the darkness between those powerful legs. He put the asset into little panties but now he’s not satisfied with it anymore and his cock pulses in almost angry assent; squirts out sticky pre-cum into his shorts before he can hastily open up those fucking tight pants and get it out in the air.

“Pants off,” he instructs, voice already deeper. More desperate. He can see the asset reacting to the impatience in his tone. Something glitters in the dark eyes, and there’s a twitch in the scruffy jaw just before it starts moving almost a little too quick. It only hooks the warm, pink fingers in underneath the babydoll. The metal arm – as useful as it was usually – didn’t have the finesse not to rip the delicate lace.

As the asset steps out of the tiny panties, Brock idly thinks that, yes, maybe something darker next time. Something chocolate-y brown, maybe.

He grins as the asset’s cock comes into view. Just the vulnerable tip peeking out from beneath the frilly edge. Its cock looks heavy and pink, even soft as it was. Brock squeezes his own dick in his fist, thumb and forefinger  pinching the swollen head almost painfully as he stares and jerks himself.

“Turn,” he grunts again, and then a hoarse, “STOP” when its in profile; when Brock can see the swell of its ass lifting the back of the babydoll, the silky bow there just accentuating the asset’s best… asset. hah.

No ounce of fat on the whole thing and still that ass….

There is more movement in the fabric now. The asset is as nervous and beautiful as a thoroughbred. Eyes rolling and trying to get a look of its handler. Trying to understand why he’s getting more and more agitated; its leashed mind not allowing it to even register the fat cock Brock was stripping in harsh, almost violent pulls.

Maybe it was time to… unleash it. Brock wasn’t unreasonable, after all. He was a good handler.

“Freigeist.”

It had been hard to train a new word into the asset. The scientists didn’t think it practical to have him loose and pliant – almost playful and cute, if you thought the desperate, anxious type was adorable. Brock thought, that it was funny; and that it was fun to use a German word. It was almost… poetic for the whole thing. For the whole life of the asset.

He watches those big, round shoulders get loose, fingers carefully flexing at its sides as the thing turns and fixes his cock with such utter hunger, it sends thrills down his spine.

“P…Please?”

He waits a little longer just to drag it out. Just to watch those dark, now animated eyes drink in every little motion of his fist pushing down his cock and dragging the foreskin with it until the head is there in the cool air of the safehouse – fat and shiny with slick.

The asset’s mouth is cherry red and silky looking in midst of its scruff as it drops open and emits the tiniest, hungriest sound.

Brock laughs and beckons it closer with the other hand.

“Awww c’mere you fuckin’ slut. Always so hungry for cock, aren’tcha?”