Home Sweet Home (Rumlow X Reader) Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen – Anywhere For You!

You wake up the next morning slowly, like you were swimming through molasses; you feel Brock placing a feathery, light-loving kiss on your shoulder as you feel the rough, calloused pad of his fingers dance down your spine.  

– Mmmmm…..Good Morning..

You whisper, your voice thick from thick, and you lean your head back against him, basking in his warmth. 

– You look beautiful when you’re sleeping..

Brock rasps in your ear before his tongue glides over your earlobe, giving it a quick nip.

– I’m going for my run..

He whispers again, giving your bottom a loving pat.

– Nhaaa..

You let out a displeased noise as you roll over to face him, pouting up at the man as he casts a teasing smile down at you.

– I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.

He says as he leans down to kiss you.

His lips are soft and warm against yours; you hum happily, getting totally lost in the kiss, your eyes slipping shut until you feel him pull back.

– Shower with me when I get back?

Brock asks as he pulls himself from the bed, grunting and stretching.

Your eyes roam over his body; he’s got boxer briefs, not; you’re not sure when that happened, but you prefer him naked.

– How can I say no to that…

You say, flashing him a teasing smile as you sit up, letting the sheets pool around you; you stand up naked. Enjoying how he licks his lips, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, as his eyes dance over your nakedness. Then he clears his throat, looking away.

– Please, YN! If you don’t stop teasing me, I won’t be able to run at all..

He says, giving you big pleading puppy eyes. 

– You know…

You say, sauntering forward, placing your hands on his abs. 

– There are other ways to get your cardio workout in…

You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes; Brock gently takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his face. 

– I know. And I’ll do that part of my workout once I return. 

He says, with a wicked smile, before gently kissing your hands. 

– I really have to go for my run, YN. My therapist tells me it’s good for me, helps me get outta head and all that

He breathes into your hands.

Therapist? Brock sees a therapist? You take a deep breath relenting; you look up into his brown eyes.

– Just one kiss before you go? For the road?

You bargain, batting your lashes. He narrows his eyes at you playfully.

-Those pretty eyes of yours are going to get me in some serious trouble one day, one kiss.

He chuckles, giving in.

Your lips in a slow sweet kiss; his lips are soft and gentle against yours, and you find yourself wanting more. You try to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back, making you pout.

– OK, easy there, Princess, save it for the shower.

With a soft laugh, Brock chuckles when he feels your hands by the lining of his boxers. He grabs your hands, giving you an exasperating look as he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he moves away to get ready for his run. You find one of his discarded shirts throwing it on to cover your nakedness.

You let yourself fall on the bed when you hear the front door close behind Brock. God, last night was fantastic. Brock is a God-sent. Even though you have absolutely nothing or no one to compare him to, you know that you’ll never find anyone as good as him in every aspect of the word. 

You spend some time getting familiar with his house, hoping that maybe you’ll start spending some time here. You can’t help but smile at the pictures of him and his family, there are so many, and it’s obvious Brock is a family man. And that, that does something to your stomach, little flutters you push away and ignore. You let your fingertips gently glide over his medals as you look at each and every one of them; he was a soldier, he went to war, and you find yourself wondering how that feels, how he, your dad, and other veterans handle that it can’t be easy. You felt your heart swell with pride when you thought of what Brock and your dad had given for their home and country. But still, at what cost? Your mind wondered about the many different medicine bottles in your dad’s bathroom. So you know that aside from the medals and the respectful place in the community, it’s not all sunshine and roses. 

You sigh, making a face you groan, dragon breath. Brock kissed you, and you had absolutely rank breath,

adding to your bag, grabbing your toiletries, and making your way toward the bathroom. You frown when you look at yourself in the mirror; how long has your hair looked like that? Settling the wild bird nest on your head and start looking for toothpaste, you push on the mirror, opening the cabinet behind it; ah-ha! Your eyes are drawn to the top shelf with several orange pill bottles. Curiosity getting the better of you, you take one out and look at it. 

Brock Rumlow

635 N Glendale St Mansfield, Texas 65475


7.5-325MG per tablet

Take 1 Tab by mouth every 6 hours as needed for pain

The one next to it says

Brock Rumlow

635 N Glendale St Mansfield, Texas 65475


15MG tablet

Take 1 Tab (15mg) by mouth daily

Hydrocodone? Is he in pain? The bottle is nearly empty; he must use it regularly. You’re mind wonders about the scar on his lower stomach; how hurt was he exactly? Neither of them ever said, maybe he risked his life saving your dad in more ways than one. You almost don’t dare to read the next bottle; what if he doesn’t want you to know what medicine he takes? Curiosity winning again, you grab the next bottle with a shaky hand as your shoulder towards the opened doorway as if you expect him to burst through the door any minute.

Cyclobenzaprine? What is that? And why do all medications have these crazy names? Sounds like a villain from a Sci-Fi movie. You shake your head as you put it back. 

The following container you pick up recognizes the name Paroxetine. Your dad has the same prescription, down to the dosage and everything, and oh, that breaks your heart. You feel tears welling up as memories come back of waking up and hearing your dad shouting. He always told you never to enter his bedroom; he was too afraid of hurting you while he was disassociating. But usually, if you pounded on his door enough, crying for him to come back to you, he’d snap out of it. Does Brock have nightmares? Did he have some on the rare occasions you’d get to sleep in each other’s arms? You kick yourself for not thinking of this soon; they were in Afghanistan and Iraq.

You never once considered that Brock could be struggling with the same aftereffects as your dad; maybe it’s because your dad portrayed Brock as a hero since you were a little girl. The hero that saved your dad’s life so that he could come home to you. Heroes were untouchable. Nothing bothered them; they always got up and shook off whatever the villain had tossed at them; Heroes never got hurt.

Since you started dating Brock, you have never felt like a naive little girl until now; how could you be so stupid? You chastised yourself; Brock is human too; for Christ’s sake, he’s flesh and blood, and he could easily break just like everyone else.

You take a shuttering breath as tears start to trickle down your cheeks as you sink down on the closed toilet, clutching the pill bottle in your hand. Jesus, Y/N, you tell yourself. This is just a perfect time to start crying. Why is this loving someone’s business so hard? It almost makes you wish you would snap your fingers and go back to that day in the pool and stop yourself from kissing, save yourself the heartache.

You force yourself to take another breath when you hear the front door open and shut, but your brain doesn’t process it right away. You genuinely love Brock; this must be love. Why else would you cry at just the thought of him having to process everything all alone? Why can’t you bring yourself to say those three words out loud, “I LOVE YOU,” It really shouldn’t be so hard, right?

You can hear heavy footfalls through the house, coming closer, there’s a knock on the door, and you say nothing.

– YN?

Brock’s voice comes through the door, followed by a knock, startling you from your thoughts.

You force your lungs to take another deep breath; why was this so hard? Your mind races; should you tell him you went looking for toothpaste and got nosy or keep that to yourself? You quickly start to wipe your tears away with your free hand.

– YN?

Brock tries again, his voice concerned now. The bathroom door creaks open; he stops in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him. You look up at him and hope to god that you did an all-right job wiping away the tears.

– Are you OK? Did something happen?

Brock asks, his face morphing from concerned to soft as he looks at you. You sigh, standing up and wiping your face again as he approaches you.

– No, I—’m okay..

You reply, looking him over, more to make sure he’s whole than checking him out. His eyes flicker down to the orange bottle in your hand.

– OK, then.. Let’s put this back in the cabinet…

He gently takes the last container you looked at from your hand. Your heart skips a beat; you totally forgot to put that back. Well, you won’t have to tell him what you found now. He obviously already knows. 

– …. And then you can shower with me..

He continues, putting the container back on the shelf and closing the cabinet. He reaches up and drags his shirt over his head. 

– Are you mad at me?

You ask, your voice shaking. Brock turns around to face you. Looks at you for a second before he lifts his hand and gently wipes away the lonely tear that escaped your eye. 

– Princess… I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad?

He asks softly; your eyes glance up to the cabinet, and he takes a deep breath letting it out slowly as he looks at you fondly before leaning down and giving you one of those sweet, soft, loving kisses. 

– Let’s take a shower. Then we’ll talk. Sounds good?

He continues, letting his thumb gently brush over your bottom lip. You give him a little smile and a nod. 

– Good, I love how you look in my shirt..

He says before stripping out of the last of his clothes. You can’t help but look at him. He really is good-looking—extremely good-looking. You lick your lips as you glance down his body. His hands on your hips and lips on your neck startle you, and your eyes slip shut as your head lolls back, feeling his warm lips and rough facial hair on your neck. His large rough hands slowly dragged his hands up your hips, gripping the hem of the shirt and pulling it up and off your body.

– God, I love you…

He rasps as he places a kiss on your naked shoulder. His lips moving against your skin, the heat from his naked body behind you make you urn for him even more. Just the thought of his body against yours made your pussy clench; you needed to get this show on the road; you stepped into the shower and turned it on, adjusting the temperature to something warm and comfortable.

Brock just stands there, looking at you. 

– Are you coming or what?

You ask flirtatiously, batting your lashes.

– I was thinking about it, but you’re so beautiful, I just want to look at you. 

Brock says, smiling back. 

– You can look at me from in here as well..

You say teasingly. And Brock finally moves.

In the shower, you really get a show of how broad-shouldered Brock really is. The shower is big enough, but with you both in there, you have to stand pretty close to each other to have room. Not that you mind, this was exactly what you wanted. 

Brock lets his hands gently glide over your behind. Leans down, letting his lips touch your neck. 

– Mmmmm..

You hum, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. He’s already growing against you, and you can’t help but look down your eyes, wondering over his abs, on the scar momentarily before moving furth south to his cock, nestled in a thick thatch of neatly trimmed dark hair standing erect and oozing precum. Fuck, he’s big, you think. Not that you have many to compare, but still. You can’t help but think of the stretch of him pressing inside you, the drag of his cock, his warm breath against your skin, and hearing him moan.

– Mghs..

You let out, lost in the memory. 

– What?

Brock husks, his fingers gently sliding into you’re hair, gripping some to tilt your head toward him; he hums happily when you become pliant, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

– I want you inside of me.

You breathe, looking up at him through lidded eyes. 

– Yeah?

Brock questioned, brow cocked in surprise and excitement at the possibilities.

– Yes, I need you.

You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your wet naked body against his.

Brock hums; you feel his hands slide down your body, gently cupping your sex. You whimper, and he leans down a steals the noise from your lips. You gasp when you feel a thick finger tease your cunt, before dipping in, slowly sliding through your wet folds until the rough pad bumps your clit, causing you to mewl against his lips.

– I can feel that…

Brock says with a wolfish grin; you whine when his hand moves away.

-None of that, now.

He gently tuts at you, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts off the shower floor. Your gasp tightens your grip around his neck and wraps your legs around his waist. Your back presses against the shower wall, and the coolness in contact with your heated skin makes you hiss.

– Now, Brock.. I want you..

You say a little breathlessly as you nip his earlobe.

Brock lets out a deep groan; you in his ear telling him that you want him is more than he can take. He needs to feel your warmth surrounding him, gripping him tightly. He reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance; the second the fat head of his cock starts to enter, you feel the burn, the stretch; it’s amazing pleasure that jolts up your spine and makes you curl you’re toes. Then you realize he’s not moving, and you whine.

– More!

You beg, clawing at his shoulders.

– Princess…

Brock grunts, biting his lip.

You want more; you need more; you desperately want to grind down on him, to feel him deeper.

Then as if he can read your mind, Brock moves your legs, spreading them wider as he slides his arms under them. You feel exposed and open but don’t have much time to process because his hands grip your ass, and he starts to move. With a firm grip and his knees bent a little, Brock bounces you up and down on his cock. You hold on for dear life as he picks up the pace, absolutely pounding into you, the slapping of your skin echoing around the enclosed shower, your cry out as his cock drags across that spot deep inside of you, and you clench down on him.

– Naghh…

Brock breathes harshly into your neck, gripping your as tighter. You will surely have bruises; you can feel yourself trembling. Fuck this feels good Having him hold you up against the wall like this, feeling him inside, how his strong arms are holding you up, and how his breath feels on your skin. 

– Take me, Brock! I’m yours!

You try to say, but you don’t know if you manage to make understandable words.

Brock can’t hold back anymore; he switches things up, moves his arms, and pins you against the wall with his body; he pulls out slowly and slams back in before grinding himself into you. Feeling his coarse pubic mound rubbing relentlessly against your clit, your whole body tense up.

– Aaahhhh. BROCK!

Your scream echoes in the bathroom walls, you lose control of your body for a second, and your leg hits something; then the water goes ice cold. Brock jumps and almost loses his grip on you. 

– Aaahh.. Fucking cold!!

Brock almost screams before he quickly turns off the shower. Turn to you, smiling. 

– Trying to cool me down, huh?

He says, with a teasing smile. 

– I—I wasn’t

You stutter, mentally kicking yourself for ruining a magical moment.  God, you’re so so stupid! 

– Hey, Princess… It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over this. These things happen when you’re wrapped up in a moment.. 

Brock says when he sees your expression. 

– It was just that I….

You start, but then you stop and look down. You can’t get yourself to tell him you were about to orgasm. It feels weird to say that out loud. Why does it feel weird? He obviously knows already, so why can’t you just tell him? 

– YN.

He starts, but then he stops as well. Look at you. 

– Let’s finish this in the bedroom…

He continues..

You look up at him. The bedroom thing is nice and all, and you love how sweet and gentle he is. But you want more, need more, and are ready for more. He’s 46 years old. He probably had sex in every single way possible. And you want him to show you. This shower was a hundred times better than the bed, and you want more. 

– Or the couch…

He adds, sending you a teasing smile. 

– Or…. The kitchen table even.. 

He tells you as he walks out of the shower. You smile a bit. He’s not holding back, and you can choose. Maybe the bed is the best choice after all. He grabs a towel and hands it to you, then grabs one for himself, quickly drying off and wrapping it around his waist. You follow suit and wrap the towel around yourself, lacing your fingers with his, and following him back into his bedroom. 

With Brock’s words still fresh in mind, your confidence is growing. Your mind wonders about all the possibilities; you take a deep breath.

– Drop the towel and sit.

You say, pointing at the bed. Brock swallows but does as you say; he lets the towel pool around his ankles, then sits on the bed. You kneel down in front of him and let your hands glide up his powerful thighs. 

– YN..

Brock breathes out your name like a quiet prayer.

– Yes.

You answer, innocently looking up at him when you carefully let your fingertips tease his balls. 

– Aaaahh… YN

Brock moans out. His voice shaking. 

You let out a small chuckle before you lean down and let your tongue glide over his balls. 

– Oh, Fuck!

Brock groans when you grab his growing cock, and let your tongue swirl around his tip. 

The doorbell sounds just as you’re about to close your lips around him. You jump and back yourself into a corner. Shit! What if it’s your dad? What if he found out? What the hell do you do then? 

Brock looks just as frazzled as you are; he quick to his feet, grabs a pair of sweatpants out of a laundry basket, he steps into them  

– Fuck— This isn’t happening—Stay here, Princess.

He tells you before he leaves the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him.

You ease your way up onto shaky legs and hold your breath, listening for sounds, some form of a clue as to who just rang his doorbell. And you prepare for the worst; you start looking around for your clothes. If it is your dad, and he suddenly bursts in here, you sure as shit won’t be sitting on Brock’s floor naked.



Fuckin’ perfect, just when—Brock huffs running his hands through his still damp hair, hoping to fuck it wasn’t Jack at the door. He stops for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he opens the door to whatever….whoever lay on the other side. He turns the know and barely gets the damn door open when…

– Brock! You need to call Mom and tell her to take it easy. I told her that I could bring something to dinner tomorrow, but she won’t hear of it…

Samantha, Brock’s sister (the eldest of the 5 girls), marches into his house like she owns the place, talking loud. Brock follows her into the living room. Rolling his eyes, he crosses his arms over his naked chest, letting her get out what she needs to get out.  This is starting to become a normal routine the day before Sunday dinner. They all wanted to help, but his mom was stubborn and wanted to make her kids and grandchildren a good, hardy meal once a week. 

– We’re not only 7 kids anymore. We’re 15, for God’s sake. She’s gonna work herself to death. And she….

Samantha stops mid-sentence; she arches a dark brow as she eyes her brother.

– What were you doing?

She asks, looking around the house. Brock clears his throat.

– Hi, Samantha. Good to see you, too; thanks for calling to see if I was busy before you just came over to my house and WALKED in.

Brock says, giving his sister an unimpressed look.  

– Do you have company?

Samantha asks, looking like she just caught her brother doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was a little too exciting for Brock’s liking. She walks around the living room looking for signs that someone else is there.

– Err..

He starts, rubbing the back of his neck. He knows his sister all too well; she’s not going to let this go. Brock looks at his sister, giving her that look that tells her not to ask any more questions—Samantha’s face cringes. 

– Oh, no! Brock. It’s Taylor, isn’t it? God, Brock. I was afraid of this when I saw she was back. She’s not goo….

Samantha gives her big brother that look, the one that says, I think you’re stupid, but it’s your life. I still love you.

Brock frowns, stopping his sister before she can go any further.

– Wait? No, it’s not Taylor. Why would I sleep with Taylor?

Brock says, cringing. He knows he just gave away too much. 

– So you’re sleeping with this person? Who is she? I mean, you might be my big brother, but I still have a screening process here

Samantha says with an excited grin; then she starts to walk from room to room. Brock follows her, nervously contemplating what he should tell her. 

– Samantha, please. This is all very new. I don’t think she is quite ready to meet you all yet. 

Brock says, almost desperate to stop his sister before she reaches the bedroom. 

– All of us? I’m just me, Brock. And I’m the sweetest there is. Relax, I’m not gonna scare her away.

Samantha is determined. And Brock knows he can’t stop her. He only wishes he had the chance to give you a heads-up. 

– Oh, Come on, Brock! Just tell me who it is.

Samantha continues when he doesn’t answer, as she keeps opening doors. 

– Samantha. This is..

Brock doesn’t get to say anything else before Samantha opens the bedroom door. 

– Something I’m not ready to share..

Brock says, in a defeated tone, when Samantha stops at his bedroom door, just looking at you. 

– YN?

Samantha asks in surprise.

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