#mcu writer

[spdrmnwrites]

hi!

i’m parker (they/them), i’m 20, and i’ve decided to start writing for my favorite marvel characters mostly out of peer boredom and carol danvers being my sleep paralysis demon.

i write for

wanda maximoff

natasha romanoff

carol danvers

maria hill

monica rambeau

sharon carter

agatha harkness

and more! just request them. i mainly write for female and/or gender neutral readers but i am open to writing for male readers.

i’ll write smut but there’s some stuff i won’t write and will probably make a separate post for that.

[pradapugh]

Hello there!

After a long long time I'm back on Tumblr (2 years to be exact). Maybe someone who reads this knows my old account hcrringtonshair

I made it all new as like an fresh start. I will definitely repost some of my old writings and put them on a masterlist.

I have been so inactive for so long that I need a bit of time to be fully back so please be patient with me :)

[hashtagloveloses]

NEW UNION JUST DROPPED

LET'S GOOOOOOO

[mwagneto]

i genuinely dont care if the creation of all media comes to a screeching halt btw i will very gladly live with no new movies no new tv shows no new anything for years if that's what it takes for the people who create them to be treated like human beings. i hope every other facet of the entertainment industry goes on strike too and i hope all the ones that havent unionised yet will. i want media creation to become completely impossible and i want the people who could make it possible again to hold out until they get every single thing they want. btw

[marveln4tural]

PLEASEEE

[unearthlyeclipse]

ROBERT "BOB" REYNOLDS :: SENTRY :: VOID P!LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: This was made for my two irl besties since we've been giggling about these guys all week. It's a lovely movie, by the way. GO WATCH IT!!! Also, THANK YOU ALL FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS THIS LITERALLY MEANS THE WORLD TO MEEE!! This post is a bit lengthy but I'm pretty sure you all won't mind ;)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, teasing, edging, mutual masturbation, spanking, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, size difference (?), creampie, overstimulation, brat taming (?), minor lactation, titfucking, sex toys, let me know if I miss any!!

Sentry You and Sentry having some fun with mutual masturbation. Teasing Sentry till he cums into your hand, a moaning mess. Sentry practically melted when he saw how mesmerized you were by his girth. Sentry was holding himself back from plowing your insides. The way your moans filled the room had him flustered. Sentry gripping your ass as he fucks up into you in desperation. A vocal Sentry fucking you senseless. Sentry prioritizing your orgasm first. Sentry still believes you don't know his worth.

Bob (IMG) Bob showing you some love early in the morning. Despite how timid he could be, Bob loves watching your face as he fucks you. Bob loves watching your hips jolt against his face. Once Bob ate you out the first time, he couldn't resist your taste. You and Bob cumming together as he rut inside of you like a dog. Bob and you getting intimate after a rough day. Finally allowing Bob to cum inside of you, whimpering mindlessly. Edging Bob in order to hear his pretty cries. You and Bob making a film for each other whenever you are separated, but he couldn't help but hide his face as you stroke him. Titfucking a needy Bob.

Void Void loves watching you cry his name while you're beneath him. You can't help but squirm while Void has you over his lap, crying from the motions of his hands. He wanted to see you in the black lingerie he gave you. Void fucking your throat. Whining like a mess while Void had you tied up, holding a vibrator to your poor, aching clit. Void slamfucking you after being suppressed for so long. He had watched the others have their fun with you, but he had been neglected, now grown far too jealous to handle. Void making you cum on his tongue then holding your leg and overstimulating you. Void holding you down and eating you out to get that cheeky smile off your face. Void using one of your toys on your cunt.

ALL of them (no threesomes unfortunately,,, FREAKS)

Running your hand through their hair as they suck your breasts tenderly.

They can't help but be vocal as you're sucking their dicks.

They love listening to you cry out with every thrust.

They're addicted to watching you squirm beneath their tongues, holding your torso down while your grind against their faces.

You were TRYING to make them breakfast, but it would have to wait.

Enjoying their favorite meal.

[jules-ln]

Bit out of nowhere from me but I hate hate HATE how nowadays comic book writers who have never touched an Iron Man comic before write him as a tech bro without any kind of class awareness

As if Tony hasn't canonically been homeless and almost died because of it

As if there weren't lots (and I mean LOTS) of Iron Man comics that are a direct critique of capitalism because no matter how intelligent and talented Tony is, he loses a lot of money because he focuses on doing the right thing and not on making the line go up

As if Iron Man didn't have lots and lots of old comics warning about climate change and global warming

And I blame 1) The Civil War comic and 2) The MCU for this

[musingsofheaven]

SUGAR RUSH.

peter parker x afab!reader

fluff. heavy kissing. implied intimacy. teens being ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ teens. light suggestive vibes but nothing explicit. ♡

You're on your stomach on Peter's bed, your legs stretched out while wearing the hoodie you stole from his closet a week ago. The sleeves are too long, covering half your hands, but you like it that way. It smells like him, like detergent and that cologne he pretends he doesn't use. You've been living in it like a raccoon in a stolen nest. You're not doing anything right now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finish studying, with your mouth full of Pop Rocks that won't shut up.

Crack. Pop. Crack. It's funny, honestly. It sounds like a neck getting cracked in half—well, it can sound like fireworks too. It's annoyingly loud because your mouth looks like it's trying to pick a fight with physics.

Peter groans from his desk and doesn't even look at you. "You're so annoying." The words come out flat like he's already said them three times today. You know he doesn't mean it. Not really. He's just complaining. As always. It's his nature.

You chuckle, candy still fizzing. "You said I could have them." You roll onto your side just to get a better look at him, your lips pouting as if you're using them against him. His pen is tapping against his notebook while listening to the popping of the Pop Rocks.

"Didn't say I wanted to hear them every five seconds, baby." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sometimes you wonder how he can even manage you. Maybe he's praying for patience and not getting any divine assistance.

You shift a little, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his bed. "You can't even hear me over there," you say before scoffing and chewing deliberately, just to make a point.

"I can. It's like... background music. In my head." He spins slightly in his chair, just enough to throw a look at you over his shoulder.

You snort. "Dramatic." You drag the word out, milk it, trying to piss him off. Then you toss another handful of candy into your mouth like a kid.

He finally turns around the chair creaking. His hair's a mess, and there's a pencil tucked behind his ear like he forgot it was there. He crosses his arms and damn... those muscles are flexing. "I'm trying to study, and you're over here sounding like... I don't even know what to call it." His expression is all annoyed, but his eyes are warm. Tired, but warm. Not angry. Honestly? You love it when he gets like this, grumpy and soft around the edges.

You open your mouth real wide and go "Aaahhh," just to make the fizz louder. It's obnoxious. Truly. The kind of noise that would make people glare at you, and you're so proud of it.

Peter squints at you like he's in pain. "Why is my girlfriend like this?" He says it like a curse, like a prayer, like a man at the end of his rope who still wouldn't let go.

"Aw, come on, you love me." You say it too easily. It's not a question—something settled and obvious and unchangeable.

He exhales through his nose and walks over to you anyway, flops down next to you on the bed, elbow bumping yours. You hold out the package of candy. It rustles between you like a peace offering. Or a trap. He hasn't decided which yet.

He eyes it before looking back at you and your lips. "You're gonna shut up if I take some?" There's no heat in it, like the everyday tone he uses when you're being like this. Just a tired sort of fondness, like he's resigned himself to your antics and this weird little life you two have built. Annoyingly lovable, what he always says when you're asking for assurance if he still loves you even though you're playful.

You shrug. "Probably not." And you mean it. You're indecisive, and impulsive, with tendencies to be pushy. He knew that when he let you steal his hoodie the first time, and when you did things just to get his attention.

He sighs but takes a few and tilts his head back to chew. The sound bursts in the quiet like tiny firecrackers, and he physically winces, like he didn't think they'd be that loud. Hates the sounds. Obviously.

He looks at you like you just committed a crime. "Why does it... feel weird?" His face scrunches, and he's trying not to like it but also can't deny that it's kind of hilarious.

"It's fun-weird, not bad-weird." You roll onto your back beside him, shoulder brushing his, voice smug. "It tastes good though!"

Peter turns his head toward you and looks at your mouth. "You're ridiculous," he says softly, barely louder than the crackle. But he's still watching you, still close before he takes the Pop Rocks from your hand, gets enough from inside, and puts it in his mouth.

Then he kisses you.

Like... no warning. One second he's staring at your mouth like it's got all the answers to his questions, and the next, he's leaning in, slow but sure, like he already decided and you just didn't catch up yet. It's not aggressive, not rushed- it's soft, warm, and easy.

Your mouths meet soft at first. Just lips brushing lips, a little sticky from the candy's effect. But then the Pop Rocks crackle between you, loud and sudden, like someone just started a time bomb under your tongues, and everything jumps.

You giggle against him, nose bumping his, but he doesn't pull back. He just tilts his head and pushes in a little deeper. And, well, yeah, maybe that's when it changes.

Because now it's not soft. It's something else.

His mouth opens just enough for your tongue to catch him, and he tastes like cherry- you're sure it's from the candy. The candy's still popping, still snapping under your tongues, and it's a funny feeling. Literally. Your lips part wider, let it get messy, let it get loud. You lick into his mouth a little and feel him suck in a breath right through his nose.

And God, that's all it takes before he's kissing you back harder now, licking the taste of candy right out of your mouth like he's trying to shut it off. His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, gently and soft the way he knows you like. It's steady; he's holding you in place. His teeth graze your bottom lip, yearningly, just barely, just enough to feel it, and you groan, soft and surprised and too into it.

It's clumsy, yeah. Of course, it is. You're both grinning too much, breathing too hard, lips swollen already, and the candy still going off like a fucking broken record. But you don't stop. Neither of you. Because it's fun and silly. Because it's stupid. Because it's so much better than it should be.

Peter pulls back eventually, breathing hard, his lips pink and wet, a little sugar stuck at the corner of his mouth again. He licks it away automatically, and your stomach flips.

"Okay," he says, voice low and just barely wrecked. "That was..."

He doesn't even finish the sentence.

You're already grabbing more Pop Rocks.

"Again," you say, out of breath but grinning. "C'monnn."

He laughs, but it's a little shaky now. "I'm gonna die."

"Mhm," you hum and press your mouth to his before he can say another word.

This time, it's not that gentle. It's full of tongues and teeth and stupid little moans pressed into each other's mouths, sugar and spit and heat all tangled up in a kiss that has no business feeling this good.

You taste like candy, and he kisses you like he’s starving for it.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[itsmrvlxf1]

I love how we say "PROTECT THIS CHARACTER AT ALL COSTS" and then we go and hurt them like they have never been hurt before

[netherregionblog]

Yeah uhhh what the fuck was that

[wayeasier]

COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part one

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: You're working under Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Now, trapped miles under the Utah's desert in a strange vault, surrounded by even stranger people. You're forced to team up with this group of strangers. Among them is one particular stranger. A brown-haired man with slightly overgrown hair, who is quiet and noticeably nervous. But for some reason, he's drawn to you. More than he should be.

(this part is just slight introduction to the backstory of the reader!)

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for all grammatical errors / mistakes in my writing (if there are any)

PART ONE | PART TWO ...

The year 2015.

Another cruel year to pass by. Treated less and less like a person and more of a subject. A subject for the death's wish. You are kept alive another year. Not because they care about you, about your health, it's becoming more an obsession. They want to understand death by breaking you and by using you. They wouldn't really call you immortal. You do die. You are their offering to death. Over and over again, they kill you and you die. Shot, burnt, drown and so many more experimental deaths to be used to kill you.

You have become the prototype, the subject, of the most impossible: unkillable.

You are undying.

And each return feels a little less human.

There is thumping. Loud thumping. It sounds like footsteps nearing closer, the steps falling angrily against the ground, making the sound echo around. The clamor of boots slamming against the ground. They are fast and forceful. Hurrying somewhere. It sounds like dozen of footsteps. Not just footsteps of one or two people, but it's a large group of people.

The ground beneath you is stone-cold and rough beneath your body. There is an ache you’re long accustomed to. A familiar one. The cold isn't hurting. It just exists around you. You've come to find it comforting after a while. It's something you've grown to appreciate. It is something to remind you that you're still alive.

The footsteps then draw closer. The sound of the weight of bodies and their forceful footsteps, the metallic clink of gear, the friction of their tactical cloth sounds out as they're the nearest than before. The sounds then pass by your door. The hurrying loud steps fading away as they pass by. The forceful sounds of their footsteps moves beyond you. The sound fades down the corridor and the silence creeps back in.

There is no light in this place. There never is and you don't remember if there even was. But your eyes have memorized it. The exact lines where the wall meets the cold stone floor, the exact distance from your place on the ground to the door where the footsteps sounded, the place where a little tray with nearly rotten food is located at. You do not need light to see it. It is all etched into your memory, deeply embedded. There is not a single window, no light peeking out.

Time is lost there. There is no point in counting the seconds, minutes or hours. You don't know how long you've been stuck there, in and out. You don't know how long you've been sitting on the cold ground with your back against the stone wall behind you, in the darkness.

Then suddenly, the ground underneath you shifts. It begins as a soft tremble, barely more than a shiver beneath your skin. You think it's you at the first, the coldness finally getting to you. It shakes, the floor tilts and you hear the tray with the food move as well. Then in a blink of an eye, it eases. It stills. But the stillness doesn't last, another shaking tremor starts. It feels a lot heavier and domineering than before.

The floor beneath you convulses. It feels as if it's nearing closer to you. Your legs ache as you move them for the first time in what feels like days. They’re stiff. They're trembling from cold and maybe from the blood finally flowing through them. The actual weight of your own body feels unfamiliar as you slowly slide your knees forward. Moving from the curled position you’ve been in for so long. Pain slowly moves from your body.

Your hand unhooks itself from around your knees and then drags behind you, palm slowly feeling over the cold ground beneath your body and afterwards your palm finds the wall and its cold surface. With a low, involuntary groan, you press against it, using the leverage to push yourself upright. Your muscles protest but you rise anyway. You don't raise yourself to your full height, but just enough to hover, the wall helping you stand on your shaky legs.

The shaking doesn't ease. It feels as if something is getting demolished. Feels like the walls are collapsing, ceilings falling, everywhere everything falling apart. Yhe ground beneath you then suddenly feels like it had vanished. The floor rips itself away from your feet and the floor feels so far away underneath your legs.

You then fall. Your body slams against the stone ground, hard. Breath is knocked out of you, you let out a strangled gasp as you collide with the floor. Your head slams against the floor, the pain shots through your head and through your whole entire body. Everything is moving. The walls, the entire room, is not collapsing and shaking. It feels like it is falling. The room you're trapped in falls downward, dropping down, falling.

Then the world comes to a halt. Into a very angry one.

The entire room crashes against something solid with a force that whips your body sideways. You’re thrown with no time to brace yourself. Your shoulder hits another wall with a loud noise. Another shot of pain explodes right through you. You slide down to the floor, your shoulder aching. Air is knocked from your lungs again. You didn't even get air into your lungs before getting it knocked out again. Your every breath hurts and burns. Your head throbs with a deep pulsating sensation. Everything aches.

There is a silence again. But above you, there is a faint heavy sound. Something else, many other things, are falling outside the room that you're trapped inside. Slamming into the ground one after another. The room has stopped moving. But you haven’t. You’re trembling uncontrollably, breath shallow, burning sensation in your throat, your chest tight.

You don’t know what just happened.

Maybe the doctors who played with your life finally played with someone else's and did something worse to them. You hope so. You hope the doctors got the worst of it. Especially the ones who were so ruthless with you, who threw you around, killed you many times, gave you the worst time of your life.

Maybe the weapons they had been experimenting with had exploded, making the whole building collapse, make it disappear and have it gone. Fallen on itself. You hope the grounds have opened under their feet and swallowed them in a slow agonizing pained speed so that they would remember how it felt dying. You hoped they got the absolute worst of it.

You close your eyes, not like you intended on. You feel your consciousness slipping away. You can feel your eyes rolling back, your body going slack against the floor. The last thing you remember is the absolute pain in your shoulder, head and neck.

You don’t know how long you’ve been unconscious. There is no real sky here to measure by. No sun above you, no clock ticking on a wall and no watch hanging on your arm. There is only darkness surrounding you, the same familiar one.

You stir when you hear it. A recognizable language from behind the walls, voices of living creatures. Faint and muffled. Human voices sounding out after you don't know how long. You cannot make out what they're saying. You recognize the accent and the rolls of their words. It's your language. A language that you've grown up with.

Then comes another sound. A sound of grinding screech of metal comes next. It sounds depressing to you, as if they're trying to make something work. They're trying to pry something that was meant to stay closed. You roll your head, the motion dragging absolute death-like agony across your whole body. Everything hurts. You turn towards the sound, towards the door.

You open your eyes. It stings, you feel wetness slipping from them down your cheeks. Then you hear it, a loud click noise. The door hisses. You prepare to feel the light, you haven't seen it in days. Then it comes. It isn't soft, warm or comforting. It's torment, awful pain to your half-opened eyes. Your body recoils, your head reflexively moves away, but your eyes stay on the door. You're terrified to what to see in the light. In that light before you, something or someone moves. There are silhouettes of figures, more than a few. Their voices are louder now, they sound urgent and scared.

The final move of the door makes the light even more intense. It's now wide open, the room around you finally coming into the light. You squint into the light, still laying on the floor. You want to speak out, to ask them something, but your whole throat is burning and you cannot form any words without a pain shooting down and up.

Then someone steps forward, through the door, into the room you were trapped in. Blurred outlines of figures in the haze. Then a voice rings out, urgent.

"Tu je človjek!" There is a person! You feel like you're imagining it, those aren't rushed and professional words like the doctors yelled at you. It's your language. Human words said by a human voice.

You manage to lift your head, just barely above the ground. The motion sends another pain down your spine, but you hold it up. You squint through your own watering eyes with the light still burning, but you begin to see them more clearly.

They look like civilians, not the doctors. Not the ones who stuck you against the table, needles in your arms with an unknown serums going into your blood; which made you scream until you couldn't even remember what it was like to be quiet. Those people in front of you are not them.

Two more step into the room, brushing aside dust and smoke in front of them inside the room. One of them breaks away from the others and strides directly towards you without any hesitation. They drop to their knees beside your laying body. Then their open their mouth and the familiar words come out.

"Hej—hej! Jesi li poraneny?" Hey—hey! Are you hurt? Their voice sounds urgent, but it's low. You squint your eyes and blink up at them, their face hovering above yours.

Your throat is so dry, it feels like its burning when you even try to open your mouth. But you force yourself to move. Just a little. Enough to answer without any words. You gather the last bits of your strength and you nod your head. You are definitely hurt.

The person above you exhales and motions for the two other figures to come in, they walk right over to you and your head tips back slightly, just enough to see the faint outline of the stretcher settling beside you which they've brought in.

"V redu je... Ne pomeraj se preveč. Zdaj si v bezpetsi." It's okay... Don't move too much. You're safe now. You want to believe the words, you wish to be safe. Their voice is gentle, caring. As if they’re speaking to a child, who's scared and hurt.

"Zdaj te podniesieme. Bedzie bolelo, ale ćemo biti oprezni." We’re going to lift you now. It’ll hurt, but we’ll be careful. You hear quiet instructions pass between them after the person tells you that they're going to lift you onto the stretcher. A hand slides beneath your back under your shoulders and the other person sneaks their fingers under your knees and grabs you there, you feel their fingers shaking slightly.

Then you brace yourself because you see the person above you nod to the other one. They lift you up and the pain flares through you. Your body moves from the cold floor onto a different material, much comfortable. A groan slips from your lips, painful. The figure who found you first walks beside the stretcher as the other two lift it. Their face comes into focus at last, blurred through wetness in your eyes and brightness of the light from outside.

"Bit ćeš redu, neboj se." You'll be fine, don't worry. They glance down at you and smile softly at you. Then the light finally comes in a warmer tone, they take you outside and you finally adjust to the light. But what you see makes your heart ache, the street is... Gone. Buildings are fallen, cars are destroyed, there are holes everyrwhere and it looks like there was a war. Cars are overturned, their tires in the air. The whole city is in ruins. Everything is in ruins.

"Što se stalo?" What happened? You stutter out, the words barely sounded out, but the person above you heard it.

"Sokovia je pao. Avengeri nas nemogli sve spasiti vseh." Sokovia has fallen. The Avengers couldn't save us all. Your heart felt hard, as if it had stopped. The only place you knew, the city, the country, that held your memories, your nightmares, your whole life has fallen.

The word fallen can barely cover what you're seeing right now. This is devastating. Absolute devastation. Everythign is gone, you remembered the roads, the buildings, the parks, the people. But this, this is nothing. Even though you spent nearly your whole life stuck somewhere in a hidden facility in the city, where the doctors and scientists made their own choices on other bodies. Trying new serums, new experiments, new protocols. You vividly remembered the short life before, it was beautiful.

It wasn't like this. With buildings spilt in half, the roads with craters in them. Every second reveals another piece of the past reduced to ash and destruction. A shattered playground that you never visited during your childhood days, a small flower shop with its windows shattered and roof fallen inside, a billboard with a smiling family now torn.

The person who was walking beside you sees your eyes scanning the wreckage and leans a little closer to tell you something.

"Do you understand English?" the person asks you softly and your eyes flicker to him. His voice had an accent. It wasn't Sokovian accent, something more western. You nod to him that you understand and let out a groan as another pain shoots through your neck.

"It had happened so fast. Something lifted our city into the sky. It was ripped from the ground. There... There was a machine, or that's what they've said. Under the city or inside. It was sort of a bomb. The Avengers tried to stop it..." They tell you what happened. Your chest tightens, you want to ask something, anything. But you don't know what you would ask. You haven't been up in the city for nearly your entire life. You were trapped inside with doctors who were trying on making you a new experimental patient. They filled you with unknown medications, drugs, serums and other sort of chemicals, which were supposedly helping you to become something. Then they killed you. All over again. Different ways. And then they made you come back alive. It was terrifying and inhumane.

You lie there on the stretcher, barely breathing. Behind you, around you, lies the final scene of Sokovia and its aftermath. There is nothing. You realize you don’t know where they’re taking you. You don’t know where you're going to go after this. You were never alone, there was always a doctor, or someone beside you to keep track of you.

And now, you were left with nobody and no place to live in. The city, Novi Grad, was gone, the experimental facility was gone. Everything was gone. Whoever had hurt you before though, was left with nothing but death. Buried with the city and its ruins.

The time passed by.

It's been years since the fight at Sokovia. Many years since you got freed from the unkown facility that you were trapped in and moved to s different country after a month in the hospital. The world kept moving and spinning, the Avengers went on and fought more, then they had to sign the accords sent by the Sokovians after they've ruined their country, fought about it and then something else happened. The Blip, how they called it. The five long years where half of the population had vanished from the entire world and turned into just a piece of ashes in a mere second.

And yet somehow, after all those years and events throughout them, you are still there.

After you were free to go from the momth in the hospital near Novi Grad, the capital city of Sokovia, you left the country entirely. You moved to the west. It wasn't really by your choice, though. The evacuation protocols moved what remained of Sokovia’s displaced citizens across the border or into a smaller cities in the country.

The Slovak government, with the help of the Sokovian government, placed the Sokovian refugees who made it out into a small apartments scattered through the capital city. Your apartment was on the second floor of a building that looked like it came from a very old depressive eastern european movie.

Inside the apartment, the space was barely enough for one person. It was clearly meant with no humor when they said that it was a small apartment. There was a mattress sat in the corner of the room on the wooden floor. A bathroom that could fit only you and only if you didn’t try to move much. The sink was just beside the tub. The tub next to it was yellowing. The washing machine was most likely older than you and you usually had to barricade it with a chair because it kept moving out of its place when it was turned on. Then there was a tiny kitchen a pair of burners, a very narrow counter, one cupboard that creaked when you opened it and refrigerator that had this weird annoying noise.

After you moved into the city, you were given papers with a new false birthdate and a new false name along with a last name. You started to learn the country's language slowly, from the street signs, from overheard conversations in the streets and from television playing in the next apartment over, where an old, nearly deaf, man lived.

You spent whole afternoons laying on the mattress on the floor, staring at the ceiling until the light of the sun came down and the night came up. The city iself was beautiful, even though many people disagreed with the fact. Said that it was boring. But you thought very otherwise. You came to care for it.

And still, despite the quiet, despite the anonymity, despite the new life, you never felt safe. Not really. You flinched when footsteps came too close behind your apartment's door. You kept a knife under your mattress, telling yourself it was just there in case something may happen.

After a year and a half in Bratislava, you realized that you had enough. The city had given you space to remember how to live, even if you hadn’t quite managed it. The days in the city didn’t feel like days. You lost tracks of days and weeks, you were getting bored. Not of the city, but of yourself. You felt stuck. The world outside was changing and you were not. You were still stuck in the version of yourself that had gotten out of facility, its wreckage and finally tried how to live outside again.

So when the message came you took it. It was from the Sokovian government, specifically from the ones who cared for their refugees and their current situations. There was another refugee, a woman from Novi Grad, who had spent the last year in another city in different country, Budapest, and she wanted to switch her current location, the city not being her right place. You agreed to switch places. The papers were signed quickly. Your bag was packed before the message even came. You got on the first train the next day and travelled to the next country and next city. You felt it the moment the train crossed into the city, Danube on the side in the windows, the towering buildings on the other side. Everything seemed a bit different here.

The apartment they gave you was just in the centre of the city. The building that the apartment was in was tall, narrow, and pressed between two other buildings. The flat itself was a lot better than the one you had back in Bratislava. You had a real bed now, not just a mattress on the floor. There was a tiny desk under the window with a small brown-cushion chair nearby. It was still pretty small, but it was enough. After a few weeks, you signed up for another small language course during the week. You already knew many languages, but not this one. After a while, you could speak just well to understand others and start a conversation. Which you did not plan on doing.

Budapest gave you a space not just to exist, but to begin something new.

And something new did start one day during your stay in Budapest. When you reached the subway entrance, you barely glanced at the world behind you. You were tired, you had walked around the city for the whole day, looking for something to do. That was when it happened. The loud sound came first, from behind you. A roar of metal on pavement, followed by screaming of civilians somewhere there.

A black car came down into the station. It came down hard across the stone steps of the station and slammed into the lower platform with an impact that sent debris flying around, the car on its roof. Screams erupted from behind you. You were nearly on the end of the escalator, near where the subway was, you didn't know if you should go up, see what happened or maybe even help them.

You finally got off the escalator and stood at the end, looking up from where the sounds came from. People were turned as well, the escalator descending slowly. Then another yells errupted as two women slide down the escalator railing fast. One wore black clothing, a red haired braid whipping behind her as they slid down the railing. The other woman had blood on her hands, gripping it in a cloth as they both slid down, her blonde hair in a tight ponytail. They both landed just ahead of you with a thud against concrete, rolling over.

Before you could think, something roared behind them. You dropped down instinctively, your body moving before you even registered what you were avoiding. It hit the wall behind you, cracked right into the concrete pillar. You turned towards it, still crouched. It was a shield. Not the famous one, blue, red and white with a star. This one was matte, dark-blue-like with a three ended orange symbol in the middle.

When you looked back, the two women were already running away. Leaving a smeer of blood along the floor of the station. You stood still, confused. You looked back at the shield and observed it for a moment.

Before you could reach out and touch it, a sound of heavy footsteps grew behind you. You quickly whipped to the sound. There was a person behind you, their head tikted to side and they were towering over you. A skull-like silver mask staring down at you. Tactical gear strapped around their whole figure, their entire body covered in combat clothing. The figure didn't speak and didn't move. Their head was slightly tilted to the side, observing you curiously.

Then, after a moment, they stepped forward, their tactical boot making contact with the station's floor. The figure came closer. They raised their arm and it came just next to you. Behind you, a loud sound ripped through, something being pulled from the pillar. Their shield. The figure kept their eyes on you. You couldn’t really tell if they were curious, or if they were assessing, or trying to decide whether you were worth something. For a moment, you both just stared. Then, the figure took a step back, rolling their shoulders slightly and turned away from you with a one last glance. With no words, they turned and walked deeper into the station, where the two other women retreated into.

That was one of the days, which made you remember that you were still living. Which made you think about your past, from when you were stuck in the facility with vials in your arms and experiments done on your daily. Gun against your temple, knife in your abdomen, a poisoned cloth against your nose and mouth and many, many other ways to kill you.

Those years in Bratislava and Budapest changed you in many ways. Bratislava taught you how to live with silence and offered you a new start when you finally left your home country. Budapest has welcomed you the same way. It was another new start. It taught you how to be afraid again. And so, one day, after the years you've spent in Europe, you packed everything you had and paid an absolute price to board a plane straight to the United States.

You didn’t know what waited on the other side of the world, but you knew what you were leaving behind.

Sokovia became a shadow, stuck somewhere far into your mind. The person who had crawled out of that terrifying hole of an unknown experimental facility in the middle of the city, who had watched the city crumble traped inside a dark room, was someone else now.

You were starting over. Once again.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are really appreciated! <3

[vermililion]

john walker fic recs ✧°‧⭑.ᐟ

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continuing to update | last updated 28/05 | ( tysm writers <3)

─── ✧ DRABBLES/BLURBS

nsfw hcs | @undyingdecay

he fucks like someone trying to win a medal for it.

enemies | @aquaholicsanonymousworld

team mates enemies to enemies who have hate sex.

domestic hcs | @/aquaholicsanonymousworld

nsfw hcs | @/aquaholicsanonymousworld

“Wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’ long tonight,” he mutters, swirling the amber liquid. “Then you had to go and look at me like that.” You smile, heat pooling low in your belly.

dating walker hcs | @purehypnotic

giving john head | @shadowheartshapedbox

what it’s like giving junior varsity captain america head ;)

─── ✧ ONE SHOTS

the way i love you | @randomnessfangirl

John Walker is the bane of your existence...but everyone else can see that there is potential for you to put your differences aside and reveal your true feelings for each other.

girls' night revelations | @zerosomnia

After venting some frustrations at girls' night, the reader realises that they are not just angry at Walker but that there's some other stuff going on too. A confrontation ensues that ends in some truths.

the soldier and the nurse | @blueberrypancakesworld

He was a soldier who, even as a hero, always tried to protect everyone with his shield. Even the best soldier gets hurt, though, and John finds himself in the infirmary of the tower, once again with a nurse he had visited many times before. This time, however, it seems different, because when concern meets amusement, two hearts finally find each other.

nocturnal guilt and training | @/blueberrypancakesworld

It is one thing when you don't concentrate, it's another when you let yourself get hurt to deal with your own pain. John finds himself in dark places from time to time, which is especially evident after the last mission, but the soldier wants to go through it alone. Yet his girlfriend is there to help him no matter how long it takes, they would make it together.

code yellow | @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

sex pollen with walker.

thunderstorms | @angellily920

johns a secret softie :)

and you came back to me | @/aquaholicsanonymousworld

him where they’re dating and reader gets badly hurt on a mission and the whole team is freaking out, especially John, man is going BRUTAL on the people who hurt reader.

off your game | @/aquaholicsanonymousworld

Working with the Thunderbolts meant swallowing your pride daily — but nothing bruised your ego quite like him.

honey, where is my shield? | @husbandjoel

you’re the fixer upper of weapons for the new avengers and want to do something for john walker’s upcoming birthday.

moral of the story | @starktonyx

You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

patched up | @bruisedboys

john grudgingly patches you up after a mission — it gets more intimate than you both expect.

helmet | @gallavichsreddie1128

Y/N may be the only person on the planet that gets turned on by John in his helmet.

asshole | @/gallavichsreddie1128

Y/N hates John but he and everyone else are convinced that it’s just sexual frustration.

bad words | @/gallavichsreddie1128

Y/N and John are a secretly dating but put on the act of hating each other until one of them takes it too far.

need that | @blank-potato

You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

my kid's better than your kid | @/blank-potato

You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

but why's it feel so good? | @sexy-monster-fucker

While out on a mission together, Reader and John stumble into a researchers trap. Leading to them being doused in an unnamed chemical.

the heart of the matter | @divinepoints

You had never thought that life would lead you back to John Walker. Or perhaps, that life had led the both of you back to each other. After all, this had been your world first.

pushing it down and praying | @swordgrace

your friendship with john is put on the line after you’re injured during a mission — what follows is something neither of you can anticipate.

you're the ache i asked for | @/swordgrace

forced into attending a gala event, you go to john for help with your dress. things turn incredibly heated.

a black eye and two kisses | @/swordgrace

john has a bad habit of running his mouth, especially during a sparring lesson — after taking it too far, he makes it up to you in more ways than one.

only pretend until it's not | @/swordgrace

you and john go undercover to infiltrate an arms dealing ring in paris. you take your roles a little too seriously.

bit the hand that needs you | @/swordgrace

after getting injured on a mission and dismissing your help, you can’t seem to shake why john doesn’t like you. the answer is more complicated than you thought.

proximity check | @/swordgrace

when a mission goes sideways, you and john are forced to hide together in a utility closet.

change | @johns-walker

when you get injured during a job, you and john have a genuine conversation for once.

boundless | @endofthelinegang

the quiet halls of Avengers Tower keeps a kind-hearted witch who begins to distance herself from John Walker after his cold, self-protective indifference makes her believe he hates her. but when her warmth fades and he’s left in the silence he created, John finally confronts his fear of not deserving her—and chooses, for once, not to run from something real.

your hero | @spookieloop

You and the rest of the Thunderbolts are going undercover to catch an arm's dealer at his favorite night club. Someone tries to spike your drink, and Walker teaches the scumbag a lesson. A violent one.

─── ✧ SERIES (including mini)

the things we don't say part ii | @/endofthelinegang

trapped between fury and longing, you and John Walker collide in a moment that’s been simmering for months—raw, reckless, and impossible to ignore. When a knock at the door threatens to shatter what little you have left, he finally says the one thing he’s been choking on: he wants you.

thunder rolls | @/endofthelinegang

this is the prologue of a series where you are bucky barnes little sister who has managed to make it this far with him, one little snafu has happened, you happen to have feelings for another super soldier one that your brother does not particularly like.

it only leads to trouble part ii | @mydearmando

you suppose it’s natural to touch people who you live and work with. you touch everyone on the team. walker does, too. so you don’t know why it bothers you so much when he touches you.

keep your heart, cause i already got one (ongoing) | @lauufeydottir

As the Thunderbolts make their way through The Void, Walker ends up a witness to one of your shame rooms, a past you've kept close to your chest for decades.

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[mischiefmaker615]

[qwertybiancau]

One of the best thing about the knew Thunderbolts* is that we are starting ( hopefully ) a new era of the Avengers Tower fanficks from 2012.

Please fic writers you know what to do. It's gonna be even more chaotic than before. Bucky and Yelena bonding over Steve and Natasha. Ava talking shit about Walker with help of Yelena. Alexei doing stupid stuff like Clint used to. Bucky and Sam having beef about the name of the knew team, while also flirting ( like a new Stony ). And Bob being the adopted chaotic , depressed child of them all. We have so many opportunities. It's gonna be amazing.

Realy I can't wait. Please ao3/wattpad writers. Don't let us down

[unearthlyeclipse]

JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES :: WINTER SOLDIER P! LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: I'm working on a requested Loki fic, and it should be out in a few days!! I greatly appreciate the support for all of my posts so far, you guys are so sweet!! I want to encourage people to send in more requests, not just for Marvel, but more!! I'm also working on Joel Miller P!Link post, so look out for that!! PLEASE SEND REQUESTS YALLLL!!! (Just make sure you read my masterlist first!!)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, light BDSM, (brainwashed, pre & post brainwash Bucky all included and noted), semi-public/voyeurism, teasing, slight angst (kinda not really), creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, fingering, teasing, double penetration.

Pre-Brainwashed Bucky Bucky had gifted you a lingerie set when he was overseas, and now that he's home, you are wearing it for a perfect occasion. You and Bucky were getting a bit steamy in public. You saw the looks he was giving you and your short sundress, his bulge becoming noticeable. You and Bucky are getting steamy after the Stark Expo. Giving Bucky a small tease before the Expo.

Brainwashed Bucky Bucky binding you and pushing you to your limit. Buckby watching your combined cum spill from your cunt. You and Bucky were on a HYDRA mission and were sharing a room you didn't expect to get so steamy in. Bucky on a mission to make you cum from pounding you hard. Bucky fucking you, pulling your hair back and kissing you desperately, his stubble ticking your face just right.

Post-Brainwash Bucky You're trying to hold yourself from cumming, but Bucky is using all of the power in his vibranium arm to get it out of you. Creaming all over Bucky's arm as he continues to finger you. You love looking down at Bucky when you ride him; he gives you the cutest doe eyes. Taking care of Bucky during his healing stage, helping him release all of his pent-up stress.

Bonus with Steve Rogers !!

You didn't mind the idea of Bucky inviting Steve for a get-together, but you had no clue you were going to be a shared gift.

Steve and Bucky taking their turns with you.

[charlie-shmarlie]

Cuddling with him: Loki Laufeyson headcanons

Quiet time with the god of mischief ♡

Warnings: fluffy, clingy Loki,

Currently taking headcanon requests :)

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It may not seem like it, but Loki is actually a big fan of cuddling. He won't tell you, so you'll just have to figure it out yourself, but when you do, he'll be elated.

He will NEVER admit it, but he secretly enjoys being the little spoon from time to time. He'll put up a big fuss about it, but deep down, he really loves the feeling of just being held and feeling protected for once.

He likes being the big spoon, too, of course. Holding you so close and feeling the gentle warmth of your skin brings him a sense of peace.

His body temperature runs cool so you'll never get overheated when curled up next to him.

Usually holds you from the back so he can bury his face into your hair. He'll wrap both of his arms around your waist, too, to hold you close to his chest like a freaking seat belt.

Tangles his legs with yours so it's harder for you to move away from him.

Oh, you want to get up? Absolutely not. You asked for this, and you're not gonna back out of it now.

Oh yeah, and if you ask him for cuddles, he's gonna groan and complain about it. Explaining to you exactly why he thinks the activity is ridiculous while simultaneously guiding you to the bed and pulling you down next to him.

"You can't be serious. You do understand that I have much more important things to attend to than just laze about with you- come here, you're too far away- than just laze about with you all day-"

Soft kisses to the nape of your neck and into your hair <3

If he's had a rough day, Loki just *might* actually ask you for cuddles. It likely won't be verbal, though. It might be in a simple gesture or some not-so subtle hints that he's craving your affection dropped into the middle of whatever conversation you're currently having.

Sometimes, your presence is so comforting to him that he falls asleep right then and there, and next thing you know, you've got a god softly snoring in your ear.

Swears he doesn't snore (he does).

But he is 10 times more likely to sleep better while you're sleeping next to him.

If you fall asleep in his arms, he might be tempted to prank you in some way but never goes through with it. Your peaceful expression and soft breaths strip him of his desire to cause trouble for you, and he often finds himself just laying in silence, admiring you.

If you were ever to bring up that he cuddles you to ANYONE, oh buddy, you're so cooked. You might as well just write out your obituary now cause you don't have much longer.

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