#fandom: marvel

[immortalmuses]

Watch Echo. Please. Please.

I cannot stress enough how important it is to see this kind of representation, this kind of investment from a company like Marvel, in telling indigenous peoples' stories. They consulted with the Choctaw nation, they DUBBED THE ENTIRE SERIES IN CHOCTAW. Choctaw is an endangered language! Fewer than 500 people remain that speak it fluently! And here it is, preserved in a Marvel Show about a Native Super Hero!!!!

I know you have MCU fatigue, I get it. I understand that some of the disney+ Marvel shows have been underwhelming. But I am BEGGING YOU. Just watch Echo. Just give it a chance, give Her a chance. The world is a better place with stories like this in it, and the only way we will get more of them is if we show companies like Marvel that their investment isn't a waste.

#Marvel #Echo #Maya Lopez #Marvel Echo #marvel mcu #Choctaw Nation #indigenous representation #Fandom: Marvel #c: Maya Lopez | Echo #Echo: media #Youtube

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Slam

Following an injury in the field, Bucky goes to check on Steve in the infirmary and confesses his feelings and his fears.

CW: Minor injury, smut, first time. Don’t forget to use lube, folks – unless you’re a super soldier.

Prompts used;

‘Bad Coping Mechanisms’, ‘Mutual Pining’ and ‘Wall Sex’ – Build-a-Bucky Bingo (@buckybarnesevents);

“You Look So Pretty Like This.” and ‘Muscles’ – @stuckybingo;

“I’m Right Where I Belong.” and “You Getting Flustered is One of the Cutest Things I’ve Seen.” – @sebastianstanbingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below! Boards at the bottom. Banner by @sarahowritesostucky

Bucky raced through the corridors, the serum’s power flowing through him as his feet pounded the linoleum, heart hammering in his chest.

As soon as the news of Steve’s injury had reached him, he’d been up and running, with fear he hadn’t felt in decades pulsing in his veins. Ever since Steve had been bulked up in the war, Bucky had been able to slowly let go of the terror for Steve’s longevity that had plagued him since he’d met the kid at six years old, scrawny but surprisingly bold – and prone to getting his ass kicked. But the serum Steve had received had made the once-tiny man a hulking mass of muscle and sinew, invulnerable to most things thrown at him, and Bucky had finally been able to relax a little – though he still worried about his childhood friend more than any other member of the team.

Bucky blamed it on their longstanding connection and the camaraderie born from being the only two super soldiers, both displaced from their own time by time in ice (and servitude, in Bucky’s case). It was a miracle they were both here, together, a hundred years in the future and experiencing things they never even dreamt of.

That was it, Bucky argued, when he lay awake at night thinking of the skinny kid from Brooklyn, the strong man he’d grown into. He argued it was appreciation of the smooth curves of muscle that had him fantasising about the water flowing over his back when he’d glimpsed him in the shower after a training session. It was simply concern that had him inspecting his Captain’s bare chest when his suit had been ripped in battle, checking thoroughly for cuts and scrapes.

He'd argued, but it was as he was skidding to a halt and slamming through the infirmary doors that it finally hit him that his argument was a lie.

The sight of Steve lay on the thin medical paper, his back to the doors as Bruce finished stitching a deep wound above his hipbone, had Bucky pausing and panting for breath. It’d been a long time since he’d managed to move so quickly that he was forced to breathe harder, but his strides had barely touched the floor as he’d flown towards his teammate.

“Hey, Buck.”

The Winter Soldier cocked his head sharply, smiling just a little to himself as he saw Steve’s muscles relax minutely. “How did you know it was me?”

“Heard you running. Anyone else would be far more breathless – and definitely couldn’t move so fast.” The grin in Steve’s voice was audible, and Bucky chuckled, moving closer slowly.

“Yeah, well. Nat messaged, and she wasn’t liberal with the details. All I knew was that you’d been hurt.”

“Worried, were you?” Steve’s shoulders trembled as he laughed silently, making Bucky snort as he rounded the table, casting an assessing eye over the shallow lacerations marring the Captain’s bare chest as he took a seat.

“Actually, I was hoping to get here in time to pull the plug,” Bucky quipped, grinning, and Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Your life wouldn’t be worth living without me in it, and you know it,” Steve teased back, lips quirked in a fond smile before he grimaced as the doctor tied off his thread. Buck reached out automatically, squeezing Steve’s hand reassuringly, heat tingling up his palm at the contact. He’d done this dozens of times as a youth, Steve’s fingers clinging desperately to his as the larger boy had carefully cleaned yet another split lip or scraped palm, but it felt different now, with Steve’s palm comparable to his and Bucky’s metal fingers cool against his skin – and Steve’s pulse beginning to pound at the contact.

“I’m all done here,” Bruce murmured, gently pressing an adhesive bandage to the suture line. “Keep it covered and dry for a few days, and the stitches should dissolve in a week or so. You’ll be good as new by then.” The doctor grinned, shaking his head fondly. “If only all of my patients recovered so quickly!”

Steve chuckled obligingly, pulling the edge of his suit a little higher to obscure both bandage and sharp curve of bone. “You’d be out of a job, Dr. Banner. Thanks again,” he added as Bruce rose, receiving a polite inclination of the head for his gratitude.

The boys were left alone, fingers still entwined together, Steve fiddling with the ragged edges of his clothing idly. “I’m gonna have to get a new suit… This one got pretty shredded.”

Bucky laughed, running a palm over the lacerated star hanging over the edge of the table. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got thrown. Road rash sucks,” the Captain replied with a shrug, and groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “But you heard Bruce – I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

James nodded, eventually releasing his friend’s hand with a discreet twitch of his jaw. “Yeah. You were always the strong one.” Steve snorted and raised an eyebrow, considering his fellow soldier pointedly, but Bucky only laughed and shook his head. “Maybe, when we were younger, I could pick up something heavier than you. But you were always so… Tough. You weren’t scared of anything.” He smiled softly, head tilted minutely. “Actually, no. You were scared, but you always stood up for yourself anyway. You never let anyone keep you down or underestimate you. That’s real strength.”

Steve chuckled, his cheeks pinkening minutely as he looked away. “Not always,” he muttered, hands knotting uncertainly in his lap. “There were some things I just… I didn’t fight when the insults and assumptions started flying.”

“The assumptions?” Bucky repeated softly, head cocked. When Steve only shrugged, Bucky leaned forward conspiratorially. “You getting flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve blinked in surprise, his back straightening nervously. “I-I… What?”

Bucky smiled softly, leaning a little closer. “Those assumptions… Do you mean the ones about your sexuality?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, eyeing his friend nervously. “… You heard about that?”

The sergeant arched an eyebrow, head inclined. “Of course, Stevie. You’re my best friend. Besides… We spent a whole lot of time together. It wasn’t just you that they made those assumptions about.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve replied quickly, looking away as guilt creased his features, but Bucky simply chuckled.

“Don’t be. They were right.”

The words sat in the still air for a moment before they collided visibly with the Captain, sending him jerking backwards in shock.

“They- You- … What?” Steve stammered, his eyes widening in shock.

“I’m gay,” Bucky replied easily, shrugging. “Well, no – I’m bisexual. But we both know it’s not the women you were asking about.” Steve’s mouth worked wordlessly, and Bucky smirked. “So? What about you? Were they right about you, too?”

Steve glanced around uncertainly, examining the empty space as if checking for someone hiding in the shadows. “… Why did you come so quickly, Buck?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m trying to answer. Humour me. Why did you come so quickly?” he repeated, looking down to where his fingers were knotted in his lap.

“Because… Because I care about you?” Bucky offered uncertainly, and Steve nodded, eyes diverted.

“As a friend?” he prompted quietly. Bucky hesitated for a moment, watching as his Captain struggled silently to find the words he was looking for. “… I’m not gay, Buck.” The sergeant blushed minutely, opening his mouth to respond, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. “But I’m not straight, either. I… I’ve only ever wanted to be with – been in love with – one person. After all these years… It’s still only ever been one person.”

Bucky sat silently for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, apprehensive. “Who?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Steve replied, a wry grin quirking at his lips.

Bucky reached out, fingers finding his best friend’s once more, swallowing nervously. “Tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve glanced up at last, the brush draining from his cheeks with the sincerity of the moment, ice meeting cerulean in an all-encompassing gaze. “You, Bucky. It’s always been you.”

The words released a feral urgency in his fellow soldier, moving forward to kiss him in a clash of lips and tongues, a low whine escaping the brunette as he tangled his metal fingers in the other’s hair.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Bucky muttered, shifting to trail kisses over the broader man’s jaw, his free hand finding Steve’s hip to pull him closer. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time trying to bury my feelings in drinking and whoring…”

Steve nodded weakly, head instinctively tipping back under his sergeant’s rapturous ministrations. “I-I… I never knew you… I never expected…” He swallowed audibly, hips twitching as his arousal became ever more evident under the skin-tight material of his uniform. Bucky let out a quiet groan of desire, fingers trailing over Steve’s hipbone slowly – but the blond grasped his wrist as his fingertips brushed against his increasingly stiffening length. “Wait.”

Bucky winced, drawing back with a quick, apologetic shake of his head. “I-I’m sorry. We don’t have to, of course, I-”

Steve kissed his lover softly to interrupt him, shaking his head with a smile. “I want to,” he breathed, his fingers finding the back of Bucky’s neck to press their foreheads together. “I’ve just- I… I’ve never…”

Bucky’s face went blank as comprehension dawned, lips parting minutely. “You… Oh.” A smile flickered across his features, and he cupped Steve’s jaw gently. “That’s fine, sweet boy. We go as slow as you like, and do as much or as little as you want. It’s all up to you.”

Steve nodded slowly, then more firmly, and pulled Bucky back to him by the neck of his t-shirt, crushing his lips desperately against the taller man’s.

Buck’s hands were gentle as they explored the Captain’s bare chest, tracing the dips and curves of bone and muscle reverently, mapping each detail and committing every modicum of minutiae to memory – just in case. Steve shivered under his touch, the hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck drawing him closer as he lay back, gasping at the thigh that pressed lightly against his throbbing length.

“Buck, please,” he whispered, tugging gently at the other man’s shirt, purring with delight when the material was shed and dropped to the floor. His hands fumbled with the taller man’s belt, hesitating only minutely before pressing a palm to Bucky’s boxer-clad member and blushing shyly at the relieved groan the motion elicited.

Buck’s lips trailed slowly along jaw and throat, over Steve’s collarbone, proceeding patiently over chest and stomach. Bucky’s knees met the floor as his fingers curled in the waistband of the other man’s underwear. He glanced up to receive clarification, and when he was offered a nod, nervous but sure, he slowly slid Steve’s boxers down, trailing gentle kisses in their wake. When he looked up again to take in his Captain in all his glory, his mouth ran dry, tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. He rocked on his heels for a moment, enjoying the sight for a little longer before falling forward, growling hungrily. His mouth encompassed Steve’s length quickly, eliciting a gasp and a whimper from the soldier pinned to the table, his hands tangling frantically in Bucky’s wild hair.

“I- Oh, Buck, th-that’s so…” Steve trailed off into a desperate moan, his back arching instinctively to press himself deeper. Bucky, in his experience, simply swallowed around his amateur partner’s erratic thrusts to take him into his throat, hands finding his hips to help smoothen his pace, earning a quiet, stammering exclamation for his efforts. The feeling of Bucky’s tongue massaging the underside of his cock as it passed between expert, kiss-flushed lips had him quivering and mewling uselessly until the sergeant pulled back, oceanic eyes dancing with joy. “Good?”

Steve all but sobbed in his pleasure, raising his head to nod weakly. “A-Amazing. Please, honey, Buck… I want… I need…”

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Bucky purred, wrapping a loose, coaxing hand around Steve’s length while he spoke – but unable to keep from leaning in intermittently to pass tongue or lips over the leaking tip, delighting in the gasps and jerks the simple gesture invoked. “You just say the word, and I-”

“I want to make love to you,” Steve interrupted softly, pink tinging his cheeks as he spoke, his twitching cock betraying his enthusiasm. Bucky blinked in surprise before smiling tenderly with an amused shake of his head.

“And here I’d had you pinned as a bottom… What a pleasant surprise,” Bucky breathed, powerless to stop one of his hands from grinding against the straining in his sweatpants desperately, eyes blown wide with lust. “I’ve thought about you fucking me so many times…” He winced minutely, expecting a reprimand from his straight-laced captain for his language, but the blond simply smiled.

“I may be inexperienced, Buck, but I’ve overheard enough sleeping in the room next to Tony’s to expect a little cussing in these situations.”

Bucky simply nodded, standing to pull his shirt over his head, and Steve gulped. He’d seen the brunette in varying degrees of undress on countless occasions, but always he had kept his eyes diverted and downcast, never looking up for fear he would give himself away. But now he could let his gaze roam freely, taking in the curve of the sinew and muscle, of strong arms and well-defined pecs, his expression softening minutely as he took in the puckered ridge of scar where flesh met metal. Bucky shifted self-consciously, raising a hand to rub uncertainly at the marred skin, and Steve pushed himself quickly to his feet, catching the other man’s fingers. “Hey… You’re beautiful, he whispered, dropping his head to pepper kisses along the seam reverently.

Bucky stiffened infinitesimally, relaxation gradually easing the tension in his muscles, a soft sigh escaping parted lips as his eyes closed. “I want you, Steve,” he breathed, fingertips trailing through the short hair adoringly.

Steve could only nod in response, hands fumbling with Bucky’s belt as he dropped to his knees, one flushed, pink lip pulled between his teeth. His breath ghosted over the bulge in the sergeant’s boxers, making the taller man shiver with delight. With a slow, nervous exhale, he wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s waistband, eyes widening minutely as the soldier’s cock was freed at last. Bucky smirked, hand resting gently on Steve’s head, letting out a quiet groan as the barest flick of a tongue passed over his tip. “Please, baby boy, I need you to-”

Bucky’s words were interrupted by his own sharp yelp as Steve clumsily but enthusiastically took him, his inexperience making him gag at the depth, but he recovered to bob his head just as eagerly. The taller man groaned, hand knotting in pale strands, head falling back as he attempted to guide his needy lover into smoother motions, but Steve grasped desperately at his hips, still frantically attempting to take Bucky’s length deeper. “Easy, Stevie,” he breathed, shifting one hand to cup the other man’s jaw tenderly, smiling at the soft whine around his cock. “You really want it deeper, hm?” Steve blinked balefully up at him, tongue still eagerly caressing every inch available, and the sergeant chuckled quietly, gently raising Steve’s chin slightly. “Swallow,” he murmured, pushing forward slowly, using the rhythmic motion of his lover’s obedience to sheath himself fully in Steve’s throat with a shudder. “Fuck, baby boy- so goddamn hot… You look so pretty like this…” His eyes found the other man’s, the pale blue shining with joy, lips parted wide around his cock, and Bucky could have come undone simply at the sight. Steve could only mewl with satisfaction, lashes flickering in pleasure as Bucky rocked his hips, driving his length into his Captain’s throat before drawing back just far enough to let him snatch a breath.

It didn’t take long for the brunette’s muscles to begin to tremble and clench, incensed by the sight of his lover stretched and kneeling before him. The fingers in his hair tensed, and Steve’s eyebrow twitched questioningly. “I-I can’t- I’ll- I can’t hold out,” Bucky stuttered, the rock of his hips become spasmodic – but Steve simply dug his fingers into the other man’s flesh, groaning encouragingly. Bucky hissed with the realisation, free hand joining the first, holding Steve’s head still as his thrusts became more forceful. The feeling of soft whimpers vibrating around his length spurred him on, and he stammered out a quick warning before burying himself deeply, fingernails catching  against scalp as he pinned his submissive Captain against him. “Fuck, Steve- Stevie!”

Steve’s eyes closed in pleasure as his sergeant emptied with a guttural groan, swallowing eagerly, licking his lips as his trembling partner drew back at last. “Thank you,” Bucky breathed, unclenching his hand to smooth the messy blond strands tenderly. Steve opened his eyes to meet his gaze, hesitating only briefly before scrambling to his feet to pin the brunette to the wall, earning a grunt of surprise and a dry gulp.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Cap growled, one hand wrapping lightly around his sergeant’s throat, smiling when a quiet whimper and desperate nod came in response. Bucky groaned as he was turned quickly, hands flat to the wall and ass offered willingly, the Captain’s cock pressing against him teasingly. Steve spat in his palm and slicked his length quickly, one hand steadying himself with his lover’s hip as he lined himself up.

“Please- Please, Stevie, I need you, I want you- please, just-” Bucky moaned needily as Steve pressed inside him roughly, his forehead finding the other man’s metal shoulder as he groaned.

“Bucky- Buck, honey, you feel so good…” he grunted, dragging out slowly before slamming home once more. Slowly at first, the movements of his cock inside the taller man felt incredible, the spark of discomfort from the lack of preparation or real lubricant fading quickly until Bucky was rutting back desperately, trying in vain to increase the pace. “Sweet boy, you’re so eager!”

“Yes- God, yes Sir, please, Stevie- Cap, I need you to fuck me, baby boy,” Bucky panted, fingers curling against the plaster. Steve’s fingers found his, pinning his metal hand to the wall either side of his head, while the other wrapped around his already-stiffening cock, stroking him in time as he thrusted harder. Bucky yelped in surprise, back arching. He’d been fucked many times in his life – but never by someone whose strength parallelled his own, his very bones creaking under the strain as Steve pounded against him with bruising ferocity.

Steve was lost in the heat fizzing through his veins; there was nothing but this, the feeling of Bucky wrapped around him, tight and hot, the air full of the scent of sex and the lewd sounds falling from their lips. This was everything he’d ever wanted, and he found his body reacting automatically, knowing just what to do as he drove himself deeper, their hands on the wall creating cracks in the plaster under the power.

“So beautiful – so good, James – I love you,” Steve groaned, fisting his sergeant’s cock faster as he felt his climax approaching, too far gone and too eager to slow down, to take his time in this. Bucky simply whimpered in response, his forehead pressed to the plaster, soft sobs of overwhelming pleasure falling from his lips between pleas and gratitude, rutting  back against each perfect thrust. “Please- Stevie, fuck, just like that- I-I’m going- I-” His spine arched as he came without warning, painting both his lover’s hand and the wall before him, muscles clenching around Steve’s length.

Steve wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist, dragging him against his chest as he fucked him harder still, groaning out a plea for mercy into Bucky’s throat as he finally, blissfully, emptied himself inside his sergeant.

Bucky lay panting with his head on Steven’s chest, sweat-damp and exhausted, his backside bruised, entirely blissful.

“D’you want to get up?” Steve murmured, tracing his fingers gently down his lover’s spine, earning a lazy shake of the head.

“I’m right where he belong,” Bucky whispered in response, pressing a tender kiss to the bare skin under his cheek.

#fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #pwp #stucky smut #bucky barnes x steve rogers #plot what plot #smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan bingo #sexy seabass #stucky bingo #build a bucky bingo 2023 #bucky barnes events

[runilaisanerd]

Hawkeye (2003-2004), 1

#runilaposts #fandom: marvel #character: clint barton #alias: hawkeye #vibe: cover art

[orittsu]

All the tags I use on reblogs:

#5⭐au award #parental danny #dead on main #misunderstandings #ultraman!!!! #assumed pitch pearl #5⭐ac idea #5⭐au masterpost #5⭐ac idea (teecup) #lost time #fandom: among us #fandom: mha #fandom: dp #fandom: tf2 #fandom: ace attorney #fandom: marvel #fandom: dpxdc #fandom: dc #pitch pearl #danny/constantine #medic danny #giant danny phantom #danny not phantom #danny/cass #danny is the kryptonian god of death #death god!danny #ancient!danny #astronaut!danny #dead tired #dead serious

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 1 Behind Closed Doors

Set adrift by his own choosing, Bucky goes home to the abandoned apartment he grew up in, but perhaps it isn't as abandoned as he first thought.

Read it on AO3 here.

Chapter 2

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes Rating: T CW: blood, threat Prompts filled: Fandom-Free Bingo Frosty Edition (card 1): Cuddling to stay warm @fandom-free-bingo Fandom-Free Bingo Flight Edition: Anonymous gifts Fluffbruary: Day 2 - Scent, Day 16 - Neighbour @fluffbruary Seasonal Delights Language of Flowers: Calla lily @seasonaldelightsbingo Multifandom-Flash Round 1: A scar to remember @multifandom-flash

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.” 

G.K. Chesterton 

Bucky came and went via the fire escape that he’d carefully mangled on his second night back there, a relic of his childhood now inaccessible to anyone who couldn’t bend cast iron or jump 6ft straight up. Didn’t account for at least half of the people he actually knew, sure, including the guy he’d most often climbed it with, but seemed effective so far at keeping out random squatters. Not real charitable, he guessed, locking down an entire apartment building to himself somewhere so many people lacked even a roof to call shelter but he never signed up for them to be his problem. And he liked not being disturbed. Other things he liked included not thinking too hard about some of the stranger aspects of the building he was once again calling home. In spite of the housing shortage, he guessed it might not be so weird that no one had gotten round to tearing the place down in all these years, and to judge by the disintegrating newspapers he’d found tacked up as draft excluders the building hadn’t been inhabited since the 80s. But why was the gas still connected? No electricity, far as he could tell without knocking more holes in the walls than he thought the place could take without crumbling, but the water was still running.

Those mysteries had come clearer after he found the first camera. It had been pretty well camouflaged by a dense cobweb that looked dyed black by half a century of city smog – fuck knew how the asshole had managed that. He’d never have spotted it if he hadn’t caught the whine of tiny servos or something when he passed it. He’d panicked, smashed the thing, torn around the building searching for more. As he bore down on the third, it spoke to him. “Hey Terminator, point’s taken. Quit breaking my stuff. Drop the others in the mailbox and I’ll have them picked up.” He had dropped them in the mailbox. But he’d taken a certain joy in crushing them as small as he could before he did so. Oops. Sorry, Stark. It made him itchy for a while to think of Stark having anything to do with his habitation – hadn’t he turned down a space at the compound because he wanted out of barracks controlled by someone else? But, fuck it, if the nerd had nothing better to do with his billions than pay Bucky’s bills he might as well let him. And now he was back, he didn’t fancy leaving. 

This last week his resolve was being tested. It had started with the smell. He knew the odours of sweat and blood well enough, and he knew that neither had been coming from the back apartment when he left for work. He’d been back there, of course, on his initial homecoming perimeter check and again on his hunt for Stark’s bugs. The place had been as deserted as the rest of the building, inhabited by nothing more sinister than rats, roaches, and a few pigeons. He needed to check again. He also needed to stop and fucking think. He was half way over the sill before he remembered it had taken an hour’s scrubbing for him to get more than a bit of half-assed light through his own apartment’s grimy windows. From the outside? No chance. It would have to be the hallway. 

With the generator humming and the wireless playing (somehow even now he struggled to think of it as the digital gadget it was), giving all the impression that he was still in his own apartment, he edged out into the hall. He winced at the minute change in the air pressure when he opened the door. But the only people likely to drop-by unannounced who would notice something like that would either have taken more care with their smell or would have said hi. Unless it was deliberate bait. Ten feet to the next door. A longer step over the cracked floorboard that had groaned ominously the first time he’d crossed it.  

The smell of the intruder grew stronger as he approached the door. The ancient lock hadn’t given him much difficulty when he took his original look around but the door was heavy and he shifted it with care. He wished he’d thought to oil the hinges, or pulled the door right off them. Aging lino crackled silently beneath his feet. His own heartbeat filled his ears and gradually he remembered how to breathe and move, even blink, in time with it, aligning the sounds he made so anything that fell outside the rhythm would instantly draw his attention. He remained alone with the soundtrack of his own body.  

He knew he was just short of silent as he passed from room to room, every sense trained for the least disturbance... so when the affronted pigeon erupted from behind the bathroom door raising a fetid cloud of feathers and dust, it took him effort not to swallow his own tongue. He tried to inhale as little as possible of the heavily pigeon-laced air while he let his heartrate settle and watched the bird panic at the narrow window until it finally burst out into the gathering evening gloom. The bird’s distress must have been audible to anyone else in the otherwise silent apartment but nothing and no-one stirred. He lowered his guard a degree as he made his way around the few other rooms. His search was thorough, every cupboard opened, the sparse remains of furniture eased away from the walls. No one.  

The thought that it might have been his imagination haunted him from hall to kitchen. He shook the hair from his eyes and touched a cold wrist to his forehead, trying to remember exactly. The smell lingering in the hall. He was sure. Wasn’t he? He shivered. But the air in here felt disturbed, didn’t it? By more than a pigeon and his own cat-like steps? There was a taint on the air – garbage? He crossed, moving more quickly now, to the window that overlooked the alley and its tideless sea of detritus. The smell hit him harder as he stepped into the cold air that hung in front of the window. The glass was uncracked and no draft would be creeping around that deeply dirt-caked frame. He tested the sash. Grime and old paint wouldn’t resist him but it might hold out longer than the decrepit frame. A little more pressure. He hissed between his teeth when the window rose, barely sticking or rattling in its grooves.  

He was crouched below the sill before conscious thought could catch up. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Dumbass.  

How long had he been stood in full view of any of half a dozen rooftops and twice as many windows? Long enough for a whole squad of snipers to take their shots. Again he let his pulse regulate and raised his head a fraction. No one had shot. And as thorough a survey as he could make of the surrounding area, stopping to scrutinise every spot he would have selected for his own firing position, showed him nothing suspicious – not a movement or a shadow out of place. Nothing, in fact, to cause him concern. Until he drew his gaze back into the room, and down over the smear of blood on the peeling paper below the windowsill. He sank down. A knee had brushed the wall as the other leg lifted to the sill. And, yes, now he could see the pattern of new chips in the old paint where a foot had braced. He returned to the blood. A fair stain. The size of his palm. A significant wound, but not enough to keep the victim from climbing or to force them to staunch the blood with a hand. He gave the window another look as he closed it. No trace of a bloody fingerprint. 

Bucky returned to his own apartment troubled. He could nail up the windows as he’d done downstairs. He had enough supplies for that, sure. From his seat where Winnie Barnes’ spotless kitchen table had once stood, he glanced at the stack of salvaged wood in his mom’s bedroom. She’d be spinning in her grave if he didn’t get it cleared out of there soon. And with a bit more work he could probably make the windows virtually unreachable by climbing too.  

He picked up the M38 that stood on its stock beside him and began checking it over again. The thing was... He found himself picturing the boarded up back apartment – dark and silent rooms in which his neighbours had once laughed and rowed and rushed to get out the door for work. The thing was... that, if he forced whoever had gone to the trouble to climb into the second floor of his building to move off permanently, they were unlikely to lose interest. He would either have to hunt them down – so much for the quiet life – or he would be waiting for a bullet through the head or worse until they made themselves known one way or another. That didn’t exactly sound like a peaceful retirement either, did it? And the thing was... he’d felt his heart beating back there.  

Whatever he did about apartment 4, he wasn’t as safe in here as he’d let himself believe for a while. That needed fixing tonight.  

This was his last stop, rucksack already bulging. He heaped the coils of fishing line and bungee cords on the clerk’s desk. The guy’s eyebrows rose when Bucky dropped a couple of handfuls of personal attack alarms on top of the pile. “Stocking fillers. For my self-defence class,” he offered. His cheeks heated a little when the man glanced at the glossy and explicit calendar behind his shoulder which read “February” without offering the least apology for the embarrassment caused. Bucky followed its example and stared blankly, defying contradiction.  

Supplies secured, he disregarded his fire escape and entered by his bedroom window, hauling his way up by the well-concealed handholds he’d made on his way out, scooping out lines of mortar with Vibranium fingertips. He paused on the windowsill to delicately pluck the rudimentary tripwire free and by-pass the edged weaponry that would otherwise have made a spirited attempt to ruin his good looks. He’d considered using a few grenades, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the clean-up. He had enough structural damage to repair around the building as it was. He did a quick round of the other possible entrances, but all were untouched, their makeshift defences untriggered. Finally, he wormed his way up inside the crumbling wall cavity to retrieve one or two personal items he hadn’t been able to leave on display to any sightseer or would-be hit squad but could also not carry freely around Brooklyn, his rifle chief amongst them. He’d read a couple of Stark’s James Bond novels when he’d been insufferably bored in the Tower. Why did that guy’s weapons all fit up a sleeve or his ass or something? When his requisitions came through the British civil service? Stark, SHIELD, and Hydra should all be fucking embarrassed to be lagging so far behind.  

With the limited supplies he’d had on hand, protecting his personal domain had taken precedence. Once he’d made a more professional job of his fortifications, he loaded up some materials and headed back into the corridor. And stopped.  

Something was on the floor outside of number four. Something whose colour and life stood out in the dingy shadows. He went closer and looked down at the leafy plant in its bright striped pot, its three white trumpet-like flowers gazing right back at him. Surely, only a lunatic or a child could like a combination of sunflower yellow, electric blue, and that alarmingly neon pink? A folded paper dropped as he picked up the plant. The handwriting inside was almost as childish as the colour scheme, printed in biro comfortably rounded and neat – something about it made Bucky momentarily picture the writer’s tongue poking out between their teeth as they worked. 

“Hey neighbour, sorry if I bothered you this afternoon. 

Got you a housewarming present as an apology. Hope you like it!” 

It was unsigned, though they’d made no apparent attempt to disguise their handwriting. He glared at the door. It hung slightly askew, and would do – of course – until he was done with the repairs to his own place and made a start on the rest of the apartments. Well, if he was honest with himself, he’d have to get started on his own apartment first of all. Nothing stirred beyond the door. He tucked the note back into the pot and went thoughtfully back up the corridor. He found the plant a spot by a window and stood staring at it for a full minute, waiting for an explosion or maybe some kind of toxic spore cloud – though maybe the latter was kind of cartoonish even for his usual enemies. The plant did nothing sinister. Its dark glossy leaves shone slightly in the light of the sunset.  

Bucky took his M38 up to the roof with him that evening and stayed low for a few minutes, circling in a crouch and checking out his surroundings, but in the end the distant roar of the city lulled him just as it always had. On his third circuit, he touched his fingertips to the chimney stack where he and Steve had scraped their initials, taking turns with Bucky’s new penknife. Smog and pigeons had done their best to obliterate the deep, angular “JBB” and the lighter, neater “SGR”, but Bucky had done his best to restore them the first time he’d come back up here. They’d huddled together against the stack for warmth, watching the stars and hoping Stevie’s dad wouldn’t turn up to drag him home this time, Bucky’s arm usually wrapped round his best friend’s skinny shoulders to stop him shivering. 

He’d dismantled the lower part of the fire escape after his search for the intruder but when it came time to remove their old route to temporary freedom... no, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Fuck it, anyway – anyone determined enough to get onto his roof, with no way to cover the first twenty feet, wouldn’t be put off by a little thing like a missing fire escape. So, he wondered as he settled down with his back to the long-cold chimney and let his gaze wander out over the Hudson, who would got to so much trouble to infiltrate his safe house, just to leave a smear of blood and a goddamn house plant? “Neighbour”? If they were a local, why had he never had any inkling of someone interested in the place? He’d been vigilant enough. Passers-by mostly treated the condemned and wire-fenced pile as though it wasn’t even there. Like it was as invisible to them as it was irrelevant. Just a relic. Hah. A ghost story.  

A last glimpse of the sunset flashed off his fingers. He rolled his shoulders and hissed between his teeth. It was bad tonight, but he would have to do without the pills. If there was still someone prowling around he wouldn’t risk being caught sleeping too deeply. He eased his left shoulder; knotted scar tissue stretched like exposed sinew, raw as a live wire. No, he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. No fear on that score. He tapped his knuckles against the wall and knocked free a triangle of cement. He bounced it on his palm. He and Steve had thrown so many of these it was a wonder there was any building left. Steve’s had almost always fallen short of any mark he chose, of course, though Buck had sworn blind he’d seen them hit more than once when his buddy’s spirits needed a lift. Hundreds had dropped into the alley below, sometimes raising angry shouts that sent them laughing into cover before anyone could spot their faces silhouetted overhead. The fragment exploded into dust against a raised air vent three buildings over and Bucky grinned to himself as he swung over the edge of the roof and returned home.

For @heretherebewolves, my inspiration.

#written by Bug #actual writing #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #Bucky Barnes #Rating: T #fandomfreebingo #seasonaldelightsbingo #languageofflowersbingo #fluffbruary #multifandomflash #round 1 #day 2 Engagement/Scent/Jam #day 16 Neighbour/Desire/Horse

[bibaybe]

OC New Years Challenge // Day One: What A Tangled Web We Weave

on the relationship between faith and peter @/writhe / sarah j. maas, the throne of glass series / it (2017) / @/sandersstudies / bob dylan, workman's blues #2 / ron, how we met: ‘it’s like waking up to sunlight every day. i yearned for a soulmate – and i’ve found her’ / ocean vuong, on earth we’re briefly gorgeous: a novel / no way home (2021) / danez smith, acknowledgements / @/fairycosmos

taglist: @eddysocs @ocappreciationtag @foxesandmagic @wordspin-shares @veetlegeuse @raith-way @oneirataxia-girl

#onyc23 #ocappreciation #ocapp #ochub #allaboutocs #queerocs #oc: faith quinn #rel: faith&peter #type: webweave #series: ashes #my works #fandom: mcu

[calciseptinefic]

as you wish

a spideypool au inspired by the princess bride

Summary: Several years after having found true love and lost it, talented and brilliant apothecarist Peter finds himself engaged to be married to Duke Harry Osborn, young lord of the realm. It is a marriage of convenience for Peter and nothing more. But the night he is married, Peter is kidnapped by a small team of criminals for unknown reasons. More shockingly, as they run further and further away from all Peter has ever known, the criminals learn they are being relentlessly pursued by the infamous rogue, Deadpool. But not all is as it seems; the longer Peter remains in Deadpool's clutches, the stronger the memories of his past return, and another sinister scheme—one beyond Peter's imagination—begins to unfold.

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || EXPLICIT || Part 01 notes: Many thanks to babygato for her beta! ♥ warnings: none for this chapter

.

The door to the apothecary opens, a familiar tinkle of bells on a rope and the creak of an old oak door. Peter, who is carefully digging out ingredients for an experimental elixir, calls blindly over his shoulder, "Just a moment, please!"

There is no answer. In his focused state, Peter does not notice. He simply makes sure that all of his ingredients—some fragile and rare, some hearty and common—are arranged nicely and neatly on his small worktable before he turns around, wiping his hands on his linen apron. When he notices who it is in the shop, however, his polite smile falls to a frown.

"Wade," Peter says.

"Peter," says Wade.

The other man looks out of place in the apothecary. He is a thing of night and shadows, clothing dark and countenance wicked. His sly smile and cunning eyes war with the warm sunlight coming through the windows and his bulk contrasts with the delicate sway of bundled herbs tied to the rafters. There's a healing gash along his cheek, thin and pink; he has a reputation of starting trouble, and is always bruised or scabbed when Peter sees him.

"Here for more healing salve?" Peter asks, already turning to retrieve two jars of said paste from his stocks. After a short contemplative pause, he also retrieves a small vial of tonic stoppered on his worktable.

"You know me well." Wade's voice and grin are irreverent. "Want to know why I need it?"

CONTINUE ON AO3

#spiderman #deadpool #spideypool #wade wilson #peter parker #fandom: marvel #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker #rated: e

[bye-bye-miss-american-pie]

Honestly after watching the teasers and seeing Nebula taking care of Peter in a typically “romantic” way, I was kind of scared that the movie would set them up. Not that I don’t like the pairing (they actually have A LOT of potential), but having Nebula immediately replace Gamora as Starlord’s love interest after the Russos tastelessly killing her would… just not feel good. Of course part of me wanted Peter to be with New Gamora considering I was a big Starmora shipper… But tbf??? I liked the way it ended. None of the female characters became “default” heteronormative love interest options!!! IF there is another Guardians movie they COULD try to develop either Peter/Gamora or Peter/Nebula… But considering how well Gunn has treated this franchise I’m confident in leaving it up to him.

#gamora and nebula are my favourite pair of siblings in the whole mcu #and two of my favourite female mcu characters #I just love them so much and want them to be treated well #gotg #gotg vol 3 #gotg spoilers #gamora #nebula gotg #peter quill #star lord #starmora #also what’s Peter x nebula… starbula???? #fandom: marvel

[ocpotluck]

Happy halloween @dancingsunflowers-ocs! (5/5)

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #ocp hallow transference 23 #oc: cilo #fandom: marvel #type: mix and match #queued #submitted by: carmens-garden

[endless-oc-creations]

Been in an exploratory mood and started reading through all your marvel oc stuff… and now I would LOVE to hear more about Alexandra Rhodes!?!? I’m assuming she’s related to Rhodey (but don’t see a story attached anywhere yet :). Feel free to ramble whatever you want about her!

Hello!~ Thank you so much for your exploratory mood! I always enjoy that my oc master list makes people to wanna get to know my ocs more 👀

So I haven't talked about my girl Alex Rhodes yet so I'm excited you wanna know more about her!

I wanted to make a best friend and girlfriend for Riri Williams after falling in love with her character in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.

I've always loved Rhodey too and wanted to give him a daughter.

So, I made Alexandra! With Riri being the Ironheart, essentially the "new Iron Man" in this new generation of the MCU I thought that Alex could be the new "War Machine" of their generation.

She goes to MIT, that's where she met and befriended Riri since they were roommates. They eventually become best friends and eventually girlfriends.

Alex also helps out Riri's 'business' as well so she was a bit taken aback and frightened when the Princess of Wakanda suddenly showed up at her and her girlfriend's dorm room. Then her girlfriend decided it would be smart to insult the General of the Dora Milaje, Okoye.

But I was thinking...Okoye would be like a 'teacher' to Alex like she becomes someone who Okoye begrudgingly likes and is fond of.

I'm kinda still working with that idea though based on how the movie ends so I would need to see more of Riri and what becomes of Okoye.

But! There! These were all the basics I thought about so far of my girl Alex! Thanks for asking about her!

#asks answered #answered asks #mimi replies #oc: alexandra rhodes #alexandra rhodes #mcu #fandom: mcu #mcu ocs #marvel ocs #fandom: marvel #marvel #I Want To Queue You 'Til You See Stars

[varietysky]

this past week I've been regressing back to my mcu phase..........

#been going through my old tags and it brought back a bit of pre-aou brainrot #mia posts a thing #fandom: marvel

[immortalmuses]

WE GOT GAIL SIMONE WRITING UNCANNY X!!!!

I am so stoked! This is literally a team of most of my favorite Core Classic X-Men! If we had Storm on the team, it'd be PERFECT.

tagging the fellow x-babes @bothsidesofaquestion @emmatriarchy & @fatummortem !!

#uncanny xmen #Wolverine #Nightcrawler #Jubilee #Gambit #Rogue #Fandom: Marvel #c: Logan | Wolverine #Logan: media #Logan: images #The Family You Fight For | X-Men Family

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Welcome Home, Soldier.

Buck returns from the war after three years deployment (minus a limb) to a waiting fiancé and a long overdue reunion. CW: All the smut. Basically PWP. Prompts filled; ‘Sex in Uniform’, “Kneel”, and ‘4am Sandwiches’ – Bug’s First Bingo; ‘First Kiss of the Year’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); “That’s It, Sweetheart” and “You’re So Beautiful” – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition).

Available below or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom. Banner by me! Enjoy!

My fingers tightened around the strap of my holdall, palm sweating nervously as I headed up the dirt path to my front door.

It’d been three years since I’d seen the place, but it still looked more or less the same – the passage of time was marked only by the paint beginning to peel around the edge of the windows, and the flowers bloomed by the door in a vibrant burst of colour. I’d had dreams about coming home, finally breathing in the country air once more, but it felt better than I ever could have imagined, inhaling the scents of grass and pollen with a contented sigh.

But it wasn’t the house, or the countryside, that had my heart racing.

No… It was the love of my life waiting unexpectantly on the other side of the door that’d had me travelling for two days straight, plane and train and bus and my own two feet getting me closer to this moment with every passing second.

My boots felt heavy on my feet as I crept up the steps onto the porch, and I hesitated only briefly before toeing them off, standing in my socks with a soft smile. They’d no idea I was coming back early – despite my desire to tell them, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the shocked delight on their face when I turned up out of the blue.

I shifted my holdall higher on my shoulder, smoothing my shirt and straightening my hat before reaching for the door handle.

If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a million times to lock the front door…

I wouldn’t be complaining, though. I’d put down my holdall in the hall, padding silently through the little-changed space, following the sound of a quiet, lyrical voice at the rear of the house.

They were stood with their back to me, singing quietly to themselves as they washed the dishes.

I couldn’t help but pause for a moment, lost in their voice and finally seeing them again, at long last. Soon enough, however, my body propelled me forward of its own volition. I knew they’d be startled, but I couldn’t keep myself from reaching out for them, my arm sliding around their waist to pull them quickly to my chest.

“Hey, babylove,” I purred as they went to jerk away automatically, holding them fast. “Did you miss me?”

They froze under my grasp, stunned motionless by my embrace, no sign of comprehension showing several heartbeats until my lips brushed their cheek worriedly. “…Is this real?” they breathed, leaning against my chest uncertainly, their heart hammering noticeably.

I couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing them a little more tightly. “Real as anything. I’m home sweetheart.”

A choked sob echoed around the space, reverberating against the tiled splashback as they whipped around, arms quickly finding my neck to cling at me desperately. “Buck… Baby… You’re home. You’re home, you’re home, you’re home!”

I grasped them just as tightly, fingers clenched in the back of their shirt. “I’m here, my love. I’m here, and I’m never going anywhere again, do you hear me?” Tears spilled over my cheeks unrestrained and salted their hair, but I didn’t have the capacity or concern to attempt to stem the flow, occupied as I was by hungrily inhaling the scent of them, eyes closed with bliss.

They nodded frantically against my chest, sobbing openly, nails clenched into my skin as soapy water dripped down the back of my shirt. Then finally, finally, their lips found mine, whimpering their joy into our embrace, not drawing back until both of our lungs burned with the effort. It was only then, in the brief moment they backed away to pant for breath, that their eyes strayed to my pinned sleeve, a pained grimace crossing their features. “… Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as the thought that I might never see you again,” I replied honestly, cupping their cheek in my remaining hand. It was all I’d managed to think as I’d lain bleeding and stunned, flat on my back under a foreign sky; it wasn’t fears of the afterlife or facing a vengeful God that plagued me, but only the notion of never again gazing into captivating mahogany eyes. I’d seen those eyes full of wonder, fear, amusement, incredulity, and love – and I was far from willing to give that up yet.

They smiled softly, that gaze lighting up as expected, and I sighed tenderly, placing a gentle kiss to their cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” I breathed, momentarily distracted from the gravity of their taking in my mutilation. “… I’m sorry I couldn’t come back as the man you agreed to marry. I know it’s not-”

I was cut off by their mouth meeting mine firmly, one hand tightening possessively against my ribs. “You’re so beautiful,” they attested, their voice quiet but strong, causing a blush to rise in my cheeks. I couldn’t help the flutter of anxiety in my chest, but their eyes met mine in the same way as always, full of lust and desire. A soft growl built in my throat, and I pressed myself closer, the small of their back meeting the counter behind them as they whimpered through their teeth.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve kissed you this year,” they breathed, and I chuckled as they pushed my hat from my head, running a hand through my fair – fast outgrowing its regulation short-crop after my time on the front, and the subsequent weeks bundled up in a hospital since my body was ripped open by a German grenade.

“I’ve got a lot to make up for, I expect,” I purred as I trailed my lips along their neck, earning a sharp gasp as my teeth closed lightly over their pulse.

“Oh, God…” they sighed, head tipping back obediently to offer more of their throat to my mercy, hand moving automatically to push the jacket from my shoulders. My mouth moved harder on their skin, distracting myself with the taste of them as the heavy material slid free of my one remaining arm. They simply winced sympathetically at the hemmed sleep, fingertips gently skirting my collarbone before moving to my tie.

I caught their hands with my own, smirking softly, one eyebrow raised. “So very needy, little one…” I chuckled, making them blush and shrug.

“It’s been a long time,” they replied simply. “… Sergeant.”

With a groan punctuating the fracturing of my already tentative resolve, my fingers knotted in their hair to press my lips briefly, hungrily, to theirs, before drawing back to meet their eyes, filled once more with a lust I hadn’t felt the entire time I was gone. “Kneel.”

I couldn’t help but snort at the speed with which they dropped, their eyes blown wide with lust as they gazed up at me. I nodded my appreciation of their immediate return to submission – by my own reaffirmation of the dominant of the two of us was quickly stifled as I fumbled with my belt, heat rising shamefully in my cheeks at my inability. Their hands found mine, eyes soft, offering me a gentle smile of reassurance as they took over, humiliation curling in my stomach. “Hey,” they murmured, leaning forward to press a tender kiss over my hipbone, nuzzling affectionately. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Soldier. Always.”

My blush faded a little, and I nodded, my fingers moving to curl in their hair instead, eyes closing as I let them take control. The air was chilly on my exposed thighs, and I shivered minutely, earning a soft chuckle and a reassuring rub of my skin. “I’ve missed you so much,” I murmured as my head fell back, only to jerk back forward as gentle kisses were pressed to the straining in my shorts, lids snapping open to take in their blissful expression as their fingers curled in my waistband.

“I’ve missed you too…” they breathed, and I trembled in anticipation as my underwear was lowered, lost in the expression in their eyes as they took in my leaking cock, aching and bobbing with need before them. “I’ve missed this cock…”

“Prove it,” I growled softly, tugging gently on their hair. “I’ve missed that pretty mouth wrapped around me; it’s been so long since I-”

My words died with a deafening groan as they obliged eagerly, licking and sucking at my tip with wanton desire, an unwavering flow of whimpers and whines vibrating their tongue against my length. I hissed between my teeth, fingers tightening as I pressed deeper, feeling the resistance of the back of their throat only briefly before they swallowed around me, my cock sliding deeper as I moaned breathlessly. “Fuck- That’s it, Sweetheart. Just like that… You still remember how to suck cock like a pro, damn…” They whined and nodded as best they could, eyes flicking up to meet mine adoringly, and I purred at the sight of them with their lips spread wide and pupils blown with lust. “I hope you haven’t been practicing while I’ve been gone, angel.”

Their head shook frantically, drawing back in their need to reply. “Never. Not ever. All yours, Sergeant…” I shuddered as they took me again, the years apart making my cock twitch and balls tighten already.

“Fuck- I can’t, baby… I can’t h-hold on, it’s been too long, you’re too g-good…” I stammered, hand hard as I rutted shamelessly into their throat, drawing back only far enough to let them suck in a desperate breath before burying myself once more. For their part, they moved with my thrusts, just as eager for my release as I was, their fingers tight on my hips as they dragged me harder against them, mewling around me eagerly, thighs pressed together. With little warning and a groan of resignation, I plunged myself deeply between their lips, back arching as I found a breathless climax, whimpering at the feeling of their throat clenching repeatedly around me as they swallowed hungrily.

By the time I relaxed, they were licking every drop from my length, nails digging into my skin euphorically and leaving me a shivering, whimpering mess. I drew back slowly, the both of us panting, and leant down to kiss them lightly, moaning at the taste of myself on their lips. “Holy… Fuck… God, that was so good…”

They kissed me back eagerly, shifting from their knees to press themselves against my chest, arms snaking around my neck. “I’ve missed you so much…”

With a soft smile, I kissed them once more, pressing them back against the counter until they hopped up eagerly, legs parting automatically to let me stand between them. My hand instinctively found the front of their shorts, eliciting a gentle moan and a flicker of their lashes. “Shorts off, sweetheart… I’ve missed that pussy.”

They obliged quickly, wriggling desperately against me to shed the inconvenient layer, pressing closer when only their underwear sat between us. My fingers ran over the cotton, and they sighed happily as I groaned. “Look how wet you get, angel… I bet you’ve spent so much time with your hand between your legs, just waiting for me to come home and fuck you…”

With a desperate nod, they rutted against my touch, back arching, one hand fisting at my shirt. “Yes- God, so much… Nothing would ever compare to you, though… I spent so much time begging for my soldier’s big, thick cock to stretch me out again…”

My breath caught in my throat, and I kissed them harder, fingers curling in their underwear and jerking, rough and fast, the material shredding under the force and earning me a sharp gasp and a groan of delight for my efforts. Hand snaking lower, I buried my face in their neck as my fingertips brushed against them, letting out a quiet huff of air as my eyes closed in delight. “So fucking wet, baby. Look how needy you are… Just aching to be stuffed, hm?”

They nodded frantically as I slid two fingers into their slick pussy, eliciting a soft sob of pleasure as they squirmed around me. “I’ve needed you so much, fuck…” they panted, tugging me closer with grasping hands. “Nothing feels as good as you.”

“I bet you tried though, didn’t you?” I purred, trailing gentle kisses down their neck as I worked them open. “I bet you tried so many things in this tight pussy, looking for anything that can make you feel as good as I can…” They nodded again, nails scoring against my skin and making me shiver. “But nothing treats you as well as I do, hm?”

They shook their head, tears spilling from their eyes in utter delight. “Not a damn thing, god-” they gasped and dragged themselves closer with ankles pressed frantically to the back of my thighs, writhing with need. “Fuck me, Sergeant. Please, please just- just fuck me…”

My hand drew back and made them whine, legs parting further in a frantic attempt to press themselves nearer, and I smirked, eyes lowering to the dripping pussy rutting toward me. “Considering you beg so nicely…” I murmured, trailing the tip of my cock over their soaked slit as I stroked myself languidly, waiting for the last few seconds of my refractory period to pass – I wanted myself hard and aching when I was finally inside them again. They squirmed against me and I sunk inside them with a contented sigh, relishing in the sharp gasp as they extended around me.

“Fu-fuck, God – I forgot how big you are, James…” they panted raggedly, clawing at my shirt and the skin beneath as their walls stretched to capacity. I took it slowly for fear of hurting them, but the heels on my thighs pulled me nearer until I was sheathed and trembling, my hand knotting in their hair to kiss them deeply.

“I’m home, baby,” I breathed, hips moving slowly, dissolving into the feeling of their vice-like grip around my length and their frantic, needy breath against my jaw. They could only nod, moving in time with each thrust, whining and squirming desperately. “I’m home and I am never- leaving- again.” I punctuated each word with a quick snap of my hips, relishing in the way their body jerked under my strength as they cried out with pleasure.

“Please! Please, S-Sergeant, please- fuck me harder, I’ve missed you so much, I n-need you, I-”

The end of their pleas cut off sharply into a deafening wail as I acquiesced to their request, hand shifting to their hip to pin them to the counter as I took them roughly. The sound of my skin meeting theirs and the wetness between us incensed me, teeth brushing against the soft flesh of their throat. “So fucking tight,” I growled, my fingertips pressed painfully against their hipbone to anchor them still. “So fucking wet…”

I hesitated only briefly as I realised my own limitations once more, but they simply met my eyes with their sweet mahogany gaze, lips parted in ecstasy. “Please- please, Sergeant Barnes, can I touch my pussy while you fuck me? It feels so good, I don’t know if I can help myself…”

Groaning, I kissed them again, grateful for their anticipation of my needs, nipping gently at their lip. “You’d better, sweetheart… Make yourself come for me, angel. I’ve missed this tight pussy quivering so very desperately around me, making me all soaked and messy…” I redoubled my efforts as they obliged, pounding into them as they moaned, fingers moving quickly against their clit as their free hand grasped at the back of my neck to arch themselves closer to me,

“God- yes, Bucky- Sergeant Barnes, please- please, you’re going to- I’m going to-”

“That’s it, baby,” I snarled, nails digging in as I met their trembling pussy with a bruising pace. “That’s it. You come for me, and I’ll fill up this pretty cunt, just how you like.”

At my growled words, they cried out, body shaking furiously as they convulsed around me, making me groan at the gush of wetness squeezed around my length and the fingers dragging at my hair. The feeling of them finding their release on my cock drove me over the edge, and I hissed their name as I found my own climax, leaning back to appreciate the sight of our mingled essence dripping from their stuffed hole.

Exhausted, tender, and slick with sweat and bodily fluids, I chugged a glass of water breathlessly, standing naked in the starlight shimmering through the kitchen window in the early hours of the morning. As soon as I’d been able to see straight, I’d carried them through to the bedroom, part-softened cock still buried as deeply as I could get inside them. We’d fucked and cuddled until the sun set – and long after – until my growling stomach drove me from the bed as they dozed, absently making a sandwich as I lost myself in the memories of them screaming my name.

I leant against the doorframe with a pair of plates, watching them quietly for a moment. The sheet was resting around their hips, and my gaze trailed their bare spine, skirting the dark curls at the nape of their neck and the eyelashes resting gently on their sleep-flushed cheeks.

I’m home.

I’m finally home.

#mine #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #fandom free bingo: flight edition #bugsfirstbingo #bucky barnes smut #pwp fics #pwp #smut #seasonal delights bingo #winter wonderland bingo #fandom free bingo #bucky barnes x oc

[runilaisanerd]

Hawkeye (2003-2004), 8

#runilaposts #fandom: marvel #character: clint barton #alias: hawkeye #character: natasha romanoff #alias: black widow #vibe: cover art

[kindlistener]

Prompt: Boyd Holbrook character with a pussy getting it filled 🥵 Dealer’s choice on character!

This is great. I love this. I'm guessing you meant to put this ask through to my Boyd sideblog, @breedaboyd.

(Gifs by me.)

Still, more than happy to fill this for you. Actually, I couldn't decide who I wanted to do so you get 5 choices; Danny Maguire, Donald Pierce, Douglas Cleary, Eli Klaber and Peter Kristo.

Danny Maguire

(Gif by me.)

Danny's a pretty, little slut, constantly wanting bigger and fatter toys to pry his pussy open. Thankfully, Duke — his bodyguard, his keeper, his owner — is more than capable of doing just that.

Danny claws at the sheets as Duke sinks inch after inch of his hot cock into the younger man's gaping pussy. It doesn't matter that they've been going at it all morning, his little slut is still hungry.

"H-Hahhn... Duke, please...!" Danny whines, drooling all over the mattress. He feels like he's going to split in half but he just can't get enough.

"What's up, baby?" Duke husks, squeezing and kneading Danny's hips like it'll pull him deeper. A cocky grin creeps across his face. "Thought you liked 'em big." He teases and Danny mewls, throwing his ass back to ride the thick cock splitting his cute, little cunt open. Danny's always been a greedy, little bitch so the squelch of Duke's hard dick pounding into him soaks his inner thighs. Duke seems to be of the same mind, thrusting harder until the bed creaks, threatening to break from the sheer power of the thrusts.

"Ahh! Fuck!" Danny cries out, eyes rolling as he's fucked into the mattress. Hot, burning pleasure burns in his veins as Duke reaches down to thumb at his clit. The stimulation is too much and Danny squirts, cumming all over himself and all over the sheets. His pussy grips around Duke's massive cock, trying to milk an orgasm out of the man fucking him. Danny feels a hot stream of cum flooding him, so much of it that it trickles out of his cunt, even with the fat cock shoved inside, plugging his hole as best he can. He clenches down around Duke, muscles fluttering and clenching, loving the low groan from above him.

"Mmnn... Fuck." Duke sighs, palming at the softness of Danny's belly with a firm hand. "You look gorgeous, baby." The rough, wet sound as Duke's cock is pulled out sends more fluids dripping down Danny's thighs. He's so loose and fluttery after being fucked so good, cheeks flushed and body slumped. But Duke knows he's not finished yet. If anything, the younger man's eyes are full of hunger, of want, a need to be filled and used.

And use him he does, Duke fucking into his lean, little body until Danny can't remember anything but the feeling of the older man's cock tearing through him, cumming inside his filthy, gaping cunt. Danny whimpers as it feels like his belly is being swollen again by the endless amount of cum inside. It's hot and so fucking good but he needs more. He just keeps cumming, like he can't stop, grinding back on Duke's fat cock for what's feels like hours until his pussy's throbbing, sensitive and used and puffy.

"There's a good boy." 

Donnie Pierce

(Gif by me.)

Donnie likes his body mods; piercings, tattoos and all that. He had his ears pierced when he was sixteen and never looked back. Lip, tongue, eyebrow, up and down his ears; most of his face has been stabbed with a piercing needle at some point. And it's not just his face either.

Don had his nipples pierced when he was twenty-seven, after he served and had to have his right hand lopped off. Having his nipples pierced was just a little pick-me-up from having to have his hand off but it ended up being the gateway drug. Donald Pierce collects mods like some boys collect phone numbers.

After his nipples, he had the outer lips of his cunt pierced, rings put in them to spread him open. Most recently, he got the hood of his clit pierced and it's tender and barely healed over and Kurt's so fucking in love with his body it drives Donnie insane sometimes. Kurt isn't judging. Kurt worships Don, loves everything he is...

Don hooks his fingers into the rings either side of his cunt, pulling himself open, laying himself bare for Kurt, practically pleading. Kurt strokes a hand over Don's pretty, swollen pussy, admiring it, watching the way Don shudders at the touch. He sits up, dragging the length of his cock along the smaller man's slick, hot flesh. Don lets out a whine at that, clit twitching and throbbing between his thighs.

"Deep breath, Donnie." Kurt teases, easing his cock into the tight, wet heat of the blonde's pussy. The mutant growls quietly, pushing hard, the sudden stretch making Don cry out sharply, before breaking into a moaning, babbling mess. He can feel the warm, heavy weight of Donnie's hips resting against his pelvis, pierced clit sandwiched between them and occasionally dragging against Kurt's dick.

Don is a fucking mess, stretching himself open, sobbing and moaning into Kurt's mouth. He feels full, fucked and stretched wide, barely able to breathe through how good it all feels. Kurt thrusts gently at first, starting a slow, easy pace for a few minutes, letting Donnie adjust. Then, feeling the blonde relax, he pins him down, pressing his wrists above his head, and speeds up. Fucking him hard and fast and his mouth's usually running a hundred miles an hour but he's silent. Fuck, he's the loudest guy Kurt knows but he's gone; moaning in place of sentences. "Look at you, all trussed up, ain't even able to beg right..." Don chokes on a whimper at that and he has an apology half out his mouth before it dissolves back into more obscenities.

It isn't long before Donnie's cumming hard; clenching around Kurt's cock, wet as anything. The sensation knocks Kurt's rhythm off and it isn't long before his orgasm slams into him and he spills into his boyfriend's willing hole. "Pretty boy. So good for me."

Douglas Cleary

(Gif by me.)

When Jack pulled Douglas into the shower block, lips on his neck, hands on his hips, he was entirely shocked to find out that...well, Doug was a prettier princess than he thought.

He'd pinned him to the tiles and Douglas had been moaning like a whore, writhing, begging Jack to bend him over, but then Jack shoved a hand down his prison jumpsuit and, Christ, there it was. Doug had the cutest, little cunt; tight, puffy, pink, dripping. He looked so scared at first but then Jack pulled off his jumpsuit and boxers and all but bent him in half to eat him out and Doug seemed to calm down some.

God, he tasted amazing, smelled gorgeous, smelling and feeling and listening and tasting the way Doug got sloppy wet around his face, feeling him shudder, hearing him sob and cry and moan Jack's name and beg for him...

He was beautiful and, the moment Jack pushed his cock into him, fucking him proper, he knew then that Doug needed him bad. He was so tight, so hot, so so soft, inner walls twitching and fluttering around Jack's cock in a way that made his toes curl. He'd groped Doug's little, swollen tits, toyed with his clit, gotten him to beg and sigh and mewl, telling Jack over and over again how good his cock was making him feel, stretching him open, making him cry out.

Jack had gone easier on him at first, trying not to push him too far, being more sensual, taking his time, but he came hard, growling, and he couldn't help himself from using Doug's pretty, little cunt, breeding him nice and deep, so much cum drooling from his used, little hole, so gorgeous and soft and cute.

By the time Jack got let out, Douglas had stretched himself open some, made it easier to take Jack's size, took to fingering himself, not quite being able to make himself cum like Jack could.

When Jack got out, Douglas was wanting rougher, wanting frantic, biting hickeys into his skin, leaving bruises, tying him down, even putting a collar on him once.

God, Doug's so gorgeous under him, with his slutty pussy and his precious, little crybaby face. Doug even calls him 'Daddy' once and that has them both cumming extra quick.

He loves his boy, loves taking care of him. And Doug, being Daddy's good little princess, loves every last moment of it.

Eli Klaber

(Gif by me.)

Wolff never clocked Klaber as a man like him; a man with a secret, hidden shame; a man not unlike himself. But Wolff eventually realised that Klaber is something even rarer than what he'd first thought.

When they first slept together, Wolff expected to pull down Klaber's pants and find a cute, little cock surrounded by blonde curls. Instead, Klaber was just like him; swollen, wet, feminine in the most visceral sense. He was cute and blushing and Wolff was even more enamoured. Klaber unbuttoned the medic's pants to find a familiar sight; plump, soft, warm. Wolff was like him. The medic found his way down Klaber's warm body and feasted until the two came in an unseemly rush...

Since then, every night has been the same; fingering Klaber's pretty cunt during dinner until he can't stand it no more and then dragging him up to their hotel room. Wolff pushes the blonde back on the bed and eats him out, deep and slow, savouring every drag of his tongue across his slick hole.

Once the medic works the blonde open to his satisfaction, he's rewarded with fingers working their way into his own slit. The two grind together while they finger each other, desperate, whining, the blood rushing in the blonde's ears as he takes as good as he gives. Klaber's never felt so good before, so comfortable with one of his own, so safe and needed. And loved. Oh God, does the medic worship him.

Eventually Wolff slides their hips together, pressing down hard and rolling his hips against the blonde's until they're both begging to cum. They don't cum so quickly though, putting it off and putting it off until their thighs ache and their stomach muscles burn.

When they finally cum, it's blissful and relieving. Klaber usually cums first, sweet Southern nothings spilling from his lips as his orgasm hits, all at once without warning or mercy. Wolff cums straight after, cute, little moans bubbling up from his throat as he squirts and makes the bed a messy puddle.

When they're both done, Klaber smothers Wolff's cunt with kisses, gently worshipping him, cleaning him up, seeing him through the jolting aftershocks. He wishes it could last forever but he won't have to worry because it'll happen the next night and the night after that and the night after that...

Peter Kristo

Jason didn't exactly know what to think when one of his new patients turned out to be trans. Being trans was a new thing in 1999 and little research had been performed about the 'condition' back then. Peter Kristo seemed to be about as manly as you could be; maybe not macho but tall, bearded, lean. He came to see Jason after being sacked for 'performance problems' at work due to his alcohol and drug abuse. He seemed sweet, quiet, reserved even. A good kid, despite only being a couple years younger.

The first time they fucked, it was in one of the dingy bathrooms in the clinic. Peter was submissive, obedient and desperate, humping up on Jason's leg and moaning. In return, Jason wanted nothing more than to be deep inside him and he was far from limited with his choice of hole, if Peter's file was anything to go by. Peter seemed insistent on telling Jason there was 'something he needed to know' but Jason already knew and soon enough he found himself balls-deep inside a hot, wet boy-cunt, fucking Peter hard and fast over the sink. That didn't scare Peter away though, if anything it spurred him on.

Before long, as he found his footing in recovery, Peter began showing up at Jason's office late in the evenings, practically begging to be put on his hands and knees and bred. It help with the withdrawal, he said. It cleared his head, he said. And Jason pretended he was trying to treat his patient, help him get clean.

It wasn't until one night, where Jason had his head between Peter's shaking thighs, that he realised just how invested he was in it. Peter was quivering and his breathing was shaky as he hid his face in the sleeves of his sweater. Jason looked up and saw the steady stream of slick gushing out of Peter's pretty body. His thighs were wet with it and shone in the fluorescent lights of the office. The smell was overwhelming, sweet and strong, and he pressed a kiss against Peter's outer lips and then dove straight into lapping at the blonde's pretty, little pussy. Peter squealed and moaned, rocking his hips like an overwhelmed virgin and whining loudly. It didn't take long to have him squirting again, this time all over Jason's face.

Jason noticed just how many little things had changed in their dynamic, after that.

And eventually, Jason's got Peter in his bed. The blonde's whining and keening and calling him 'Daddy' under his breath and asking to be held. He looks so tiny in Jason's shirt, in Jason's bed. His legs are long and thin, his waist narrowing drastically, turning into such a fragile set of ribs, a boyish chest and a smooth, sleek neck, the creamy tone broken only by dark hickeys and sharp collarbones. And Jason's realising just how much he adores him; not adores the way his sweet, little cunt flutters around his thick cock, not the way he's moaning and clenching with every slow thrust. No, he loves the blonde for all his complexities.

"Daddy?" Peter pulls Jason's attention back to him. Jason smiles and hooks his fingers behind Peter's knee, holding his thighs apart and admiring the tender, little bud of his clit, simply begging for attention.

"Yeah, baby?" Jason answers, slowly rolling his hips and kissing Peter's temple when the blonde flushes and whimpers. Jason doesn't remember the last time he had anyone this submissive and sweet, his baby boy is so beautiful it hurts. "You wanna stay here with Daddy?" Jason says, and Peter nods, nuzzling the older man's shoulder. Jason sighs gently and slips his arm under Peter, pulling him close and kissing his cheek. They're in too deep but Jason couldn't care less.

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 2 Shadows in the House

Bucky is haunted by an unwanted presence all too close to home.

Read this chapter on AO3 here.

Chapter 1 | Chapter3

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes Rating: T CW: Threat, injury, paranoia, hearing voices, flashbacks, choking Prompts filled: Fandom Free Bingo (Frosty Edition) card 1: Helping the injured @fandom-free-bingo Febuwhump 2024: Day 18 - Too weak to move @febuwhump Multifandom-Flash (Round 2): Through the eyes of madness @multifandom-flash Multifandom-Flash (Discrimination): Dehumanizing insult Whumpuary 2024: Day 2 - "Get away from me"/collapse/choking @whumpuary

Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends

“Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him?” 

Plato 

The temporary soothing effect of the whimsical gift and its accompanying note wore off as soon as night fell. There was work to do before he could turn in. He travelled every floor, setting his alarms, dragging armfuls of lumber with him to plug up as many points of entry as he could. If someone was going to get in here, he wanted to know exactly what route they’d have to take. No one was going to sneaking up on him down some eccentric crawlspace left behind by decades of half-funded renovations. Every pinch he squirmed through seemed to reveal another crack in the building’s shell until he was choking on dust and the ache in his shoulder and side was making his entire torso throb. How could a building so full of holes still be standing? Even when his lumber supply dried up and he was forced to return to the apartment, he couldn’t stop circling from one window to the next, scanning the streets outside. What had been caution wound about him tighter and tighter until he moved through his home like a deadly sharp coiled spring, poised to taste blood. Eventually he did force himself to lie down, but it didn’t do him much good. The spring would not unwind. 

Bucky slept about as well as he predicted – a little worse than an insomniac who’d been trying to treat their chicken pox with cocaine. He lay with his back pressed to the wall, trying to shield himself against the phantom fingers waiting to close around his throat. 

The voice that crept from his lips was barely a breath in the dark. “I won’t go back.” He dipped his chin in the tiniest nod. “I won’t go back. I won’t go back.” 

He shunned his sleeping bag. He needed to sleep lightly, not lulled by softness. He felt every splinter in the floorboards. Every change of light through the window above him or soft creak from the aging building had his hand tightening on his sidearm, jerking his shoulder until each movement meant a wince and an effort to stay silent. Even without his almost hourly patrols of the building, gun in hand, the night was more exhausting than the day. 

Daylight came as a relief, for as much as fifteen minutes. He lit the stove and poured hot water onto half a cup of coffee granules. Nothing less had a hope of making it through to his central nervous system before his body neutralised it. By the same token, he downed a handful of pills with the first scalding swallow. In defiance of Hollywood’s beliefs, pain wouldn’t sharpen his reflexes, just hinder his control. And he needed to be in control of himself. The painkillers hadn’t even kicked in before his short-lived respite was over.  

It was no more than a car backfiring. He was certain of that. He was no raw recruit filling his shorts with shit at the snap of a twig. So, why was it a full ten minutes before he could thaw from his crouch at the window and stop examining every inch of Legion Street through his scope? Why was every nerve ending already blazing when the alarm sang out overhead? 

Fuck. Fuck. He’d fucked up. All the traps he had laid, all the potential openings he’d boarded up… useless. Someone was up there right over his goddamn head. Useless. Fucking useless. He strapped a knife to his thigh opposite his gun, hesitated, and added another to his shin. The he removed the board from the wall cavity in the hall closet as quietly as possible. 

He’d walked into this situation and no one was going to save him if he didn’t get his shit together and do it himself.  

Even if they could, why would they bother? They’d probably be relieved to have the embarrassing fuck-up taken care of…  

The reptilian voice crawled through the back of his mind as he eased through the gap and into the dark, dusty recess. They wouldn’t come, not even if he called, not when he’d pushed them all away. 

He pulled himself around a beam, metal fingers biting deep into the wood, struggling to breathe in the suffocating gloom. And he couldn’t call. Because his phone was back in his apartment, now fifteen feet below him. Because he knew, didn’t he? He knew and had always known that the best, kindest – hell, the only- thing he could do for anyone he cared about was to stay away from them. Stay entirely out of contact. 

Higher. No beams here. Back and feet braced against either wall. Level with the third floor ceiling with the alarm still wailing above him. Idiot. The noise would tell whoever was up there that they’d been detected. There went any element of surprise and any chance he’d had of tracking their movement until he had eyes on them or that fucking noise stopped. Fucking stupid of him. The shrieking alarm reverberated around his skull. The only thing worse than a monster was an incompetent monster. He moved slower. He pushed through prickling sheets of insulation. The air in his chest burned and his head spun. The shrieking alarm mingled with the mocking sneer inside his head. What good was this half-assed fucking around inside a fucking wall? Without his leash, he was no better than a stray dog loose in the traffic, waiting for a speeding car to end his miserable existence. 

Head already spinning, he didn’t realise he was falling until he smashed through a beam and twisted, raking down the rough wall, the light from his own apartment flashing past him and receding, disappearing into the darkness along with everything else. Ice cold air tearing past him. Agony searing through his arm, rock and snow racing up to meet him… Worthless piece of shit… 

He woke and fought not to scream. The debris around him gouged his flailing body as he wrenched free. He rolled, dropped again, then he was kneeling, shaking, on the mouldy piss-stinking basement floor. He groped at the cracked edges of tile around him, grasping in desperation. Cold, dark, pain… he could feel  the restraints around his limbs dragging him down. The scream ripped free. He kicked furiously, scrabbling for purchase in the dirt, throwing himself towards the doorway and the dim light filtering down the stairwell. His shoulder slammed into the doorframe. He felt the wall tremble as though the whole building was ready to fall.  

Do it… bury me down here. In the pit. Where I belong. 

Merciful darkness swallowed him. 

They took a little longer to reach the basement. They followed the sounds. His fall. His scream. The ringing impact of Vibranium on concrete. Then they hesitated at the head of the last flight of stairs. If he was still conscious, what sort of condition would he be in? To them it seemed most likely they’d find him catatonic or maybe crazed with distress, like a wounded, cornered animal… They’d heard those sounds before. No one who made sounds like that was going to be in a state to roll out a welcome mat. Softly, they descended. 

He woke in a rush of panic, his eyes and lungs burning, unable to recognise his surroundings. There were straps on his arms. His legs. His chest. No. No. No! He forced himself upright, wrenching his left arm across to tear at the fabric binding his right, heedless of the pain in his shoulder. Fresh blood welled under his digging fingertips. He had already shredded the fabric before he realised it wasn’t secured to anything. There was still an intact sea knot amongst the pieces he had stripped away. The cloth was tacky with blood. Not restraints – bandages. Someone had bandaged him while he was unconscious. He heard his own harsh breath filling the room, bruising the silence, as he scanned frantically.  

Newspapered walls. Light blotted out by heavy boards across the windows. The floor stained and pitted but fairly clear of garbage… because he had shovelled it all out into the alley during his first week here. He remembered deciding he’d get his own place fixed up first but that he wouldn’t leave all that gross shit and trash to stink everything up and rot the wood even further. It had taken him a day or two to haul everything out. Him. He was in one of the downstairs apartments. Alive. Unrestrained. No more harmed than he’d been after…  

The fall. That fucking voice. He whipped around, ignoring the flares of pain all over him, expecting to find a familiar silhouette looming over him. Expecting rusted metal to choke him at any moment. But he was alone. The only presence he could detect was his own. Still, he didn’t trust it yet. He hadn’t forgotten the story Steve had related – waking up in a room Fury’s people had designed. Who was to say the same wasn’t happening to Bucky right now? Maybe they’d decided they weren’t comfortable with having him on the loose after all. Maybe Hydra had copied the trick. He wouldn’t put it past them. But why now, when they’d never troubled themselves to make him feel at home before? 

It was only as he got stiffly to his feet that he noticed he had not been lying on bare floor as he’d assumed. Where his head had rested there was a bundle of cloth. He pulled it towards him and it unrolled into a stained black hoodie, heavy with the mingled smells of blood and sweat. And someone had rolled it up into a pillow for him. He dropped it beside his feet and paused to examine his bandages more closely. They didn’t look like they’d been very neat even before his violent clawing but those that had survived his panic were still fairly secure, tied off like the one he’d destroyed, not pinned or taped. The worst of his wounds – a deep gash in his right thigh – had an extra strip of fabric tied over the top of the crepe bandages. Improvised bandages had changed somewhat since France; the addition wasn’t scavenged linen. He plucked at the thin stretchy cotton and recognised part of an old t-shirt. He grunted with amusement, in spite of the weird situation, when his probing fingers found a green paw mark printed on the black fabric. That, more than anything else, struck him as an unlikely ploy for any of his enemies. He thought of the plant in its bright pot and the friendly note that had accompanied it. 

He tested his arm and legs. Bruised, bleeding in a few places, but nothing broken. His bones didn’t break readily. He took a deep breath and doubled over choking. His throat was raw. His cheeks grew hot at the memory of his terrified screaming. It was probably too much to hope that no one had heard. 

What an embarrassment you are. So much training wasted… 

He had to get out of here. 

The stairs were a difficult climb. His lungs were full of fire. The absence of the tripwires on his floor registered mostly in relief that he wouldn’t have to negotiate them with watering eyes and stumbling feet. He stepped carefully round the stakes he had embedded beneath false patches of linoleum in his entryway, holding the wall for balance. He squinted painfully out of the window, trying to gauge how long he had been incapacitated. Looked like afternoon. Hours, then. Guilt and shame twisted in his gut.  

He stared through streaming eyes between the doorways of the hall closet and his bedroom. He wasn’t exactly going to be safe with that big fucking hole into the wall  sitting there open and visible, but how safe was he anyway? He’d completely failed to make this place any kind of fortress. The alarm was no longer screaming. Had the battery died? Had someone turned it off? He swayed as he turned his gaze to his sleeping bag. God, he needed rest. How long had it been since he had screamed so much that it hurt to breathe? He ran his hands over his torso, searching, but the pain wasn’t right for broken ribs and he found no evidence of them. Gravity pulled at him. He leaned on the door jamb, willing the smooth surface to cool his prickling forehead. Was it possible to come down with the flu in the space of a couple of hours? Could he even still catch the flu? That was enough thought to set his head spinning. His fingertips splintered the doorframe as he rocked on his feet. Down. Lie down. Important. The sleeping bag seized his gaze again.  

You’ve been sleeping all day. Why should a performance like today’s earn a nap? 

The last word was spat in his face, with all the disdain the childish concept deserved.  

What do you think you deserve for humiliating yourself? A pat on the head and a cookie? 

“I’ll do better…” he found himself muttering. He scrubbed his hand across his red eyes and drew in a sharp breath at the fresh wave of pain left in its wake. Mastering himself, he crossed back to the closet and hauled up the board that covered the hole. He set it in place and cast about for the tools to fix it there. So dark in this shadowy recess, out of sight of the apartment’s few windows. He blinked, trying to clear the terrible gritty feeling from his eyes. The closet seemed darker each time it came back into view. The darkness flickered like the static on a television set. The unsteady floor rattled as he crashed down on his knees then pitched forwards onto his face. 

Consciousness returned with punishing weight, yet left him in the dark. The force that had woken him pressed him down against the bare wood. He jerked under another blow, the impact echoing around his skull. Stop. Please. I’ll do better… Please. Another thud. Pleading never helped… Another wince. A voice. He flinched, expecting more pain. But the voice was outside of his head. No… No! He fumbled blindly for his pistol. Both arms were too heavy to move.  

To think I called something like you an asset…  

He gulped, throat closed, no sound beyond a gurgle. Had he- was his jaw broken again? Thud… Thud, thud. The blows sporadic and somehow distant. He couldn’t pull himself from the past, his weakened body seeming to occupy both at once. He groped for the gun again. Couldn’t grip. Slipping. There was a soft scrabbling at the front door. The knob rattled. He made one more grasp for his weapon, then the darkness of memory closed over his face.  

#written by Bug #actual writing #fanfiction #fandom: Marvel #Bucky Barnes #Rating: T #fandomfreebingo #multifandomflash #round 2 #discrimination #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno2 #choking #febuwhump #febuwhumpday18