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c-nstantine · 1 year

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Chaperones

Description: All Y/N Wilson wants is to go on a date with Peter Parker, her uncle diagrees

Warnings: None, fluff

Word Count: 0.8k

Y/N was one of the few people who could stand to change Sam's mind about something. Her current goal was to convince him to let her go on a date with Peter Parker, her crush. Peter was a complete sweetheart about the entire situation and even gave Y/N flowers which Sam threw in the garbage.

"You're not going on a date with that boy," Sam said with his arms crossed. He was doing his best to remain stern but his niece always knew how to tug at his heartstrings.

"Why not?" Y/N asked pouting a little. Bucky looked between the niece and uncle duo feeling slightly glad about not having any relatives. All he wanted was to get lunch, but somehow he ended up in their crosshairs.

"Because I don't like him," Sam mocked Y/N's tone as she glared at him.

Y/N was only in New York for the summer, and she was determined to go on a date while she was there. She could not keep her mind off of Peter since she bumped into him at the Avenger's Compound, but ever since then, Sam had been watching her every move.

"What if Bucky chaperoned?" Y/N asked, and Bucky looked up with wide eyes. He clearly had two options here. He could help the girl he had grown to see as a little sister, or he could stand with the man who had become his closest friend.

"Good luck getting Bucky to agree to that," Sam spoke with confidence. He hadn't managed to get Bucky to do anything for him in the entire time that he'd known Bucky.

"If you do it, I'll put in a good word with Sarah, "Y/N offered while looking at Bucky. She was sitting at the edge of her seat with wide eyes.

"Deal," Bucky said with no hesitation. For a moment, he almost felt bad about betraying Sam, but it was worth it in the end. Y/N kissed Bucky's cheek as she stepped away from their table to call Peter. Her curly puffs bounced with the pep in her step.

"Buck!" Sam exclaimed while hitting Bucky's vibranium arm. Bucky snorted as he watched Sam grab his hand in pain.

"Oh, I would've done it for free," Bucky took a sip of his coffee and watched Y/N talk on the phone with glee.

"To make her happy, or to see me annoyed?" Sam asked as he looked at Bucky. Bucky's lips curled upwards but he did not answer the question.

"Hi, Peter," Y/N said with a dopey smile. She wore a sweater and jeans. It took her forever to pick one outfit because she wanted Peter to like her.

"Hi, Y/N," Peter responded with a shy smile. He handed her a small bouquet of flowers that was primarily made up of daisies.

"I'm sorry about the super soldier following us around," Y/N apologized as the duo began to walk around Central Park. Bucky and Y/N agreed that he would linger about forty feet back to give them the illusion of privacy.

"Eh, it's fine. It kinda makes me feel important," Peter joked as he scratched the back of his neck.

"My uncle is a little overprotective," Y/N stated the understatement of the year. Sam just wanted Y/N to be safe and his definition of sage did not include Peter Parker.

"I get why he's worried. You're very beautiful and this is your first time in the city," Peter was one of the few people that actually knew all of the dangers that lurk in New York. He would hate to see something happen

"You think I'm beautiful?" Y/N tucked a single faux loc behind her ear and smiled.

"I think you're stunning. Not just in a physical way, you're really smart. Not that you can't be smart and pretty because you ar-" Peter rambled on and Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at his antics.

"I think you're pretty too," Y/N admitted as she stared at the boy next to her. His face turned bright red and his eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm gonna pass out now," The blush from the compliment crept down his neck and Peter was dying on the inside. He just got complimented by the girl of his dreams.

"Please don't," Y/N giggled as she watched Peter take deep breaths. Y/N was sure that the boy needed a church fan to keep him from passing out in the middle of Central Park.

"Okay," Peter was forever willing to do whatever a beautiful girl told him to do. He looked at her like the entire world was in her eyes and it was he was determined to make this the best date ever.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x poc!reader #x black reader #x black!reader #black!reader #spiderman #spiderman x black!reader #sam wilson #bucky barnes #c-nstantine

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squids-comics · 3 months

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You'll always be the only Captain America Steve?

Are you sure about that?

From: Avengers #33

#comics #comic books #dc comics #web comics #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #c #comic panels #marvel comics #the avengers #captain america #steve rogers #sam wilson #us agent #john walker

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samsharonsource · 2 years

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#Sam Wilson #Look at HIM!!!#Captain America #Marvel #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #SDCC 2022 #c: sam #t: images #t: text

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ruleof3bobby · 4 months

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youtube

SEE HOW THEY RUN (2022) Grade: C+

Thought the pacing was off, I didn't love the ending. The editing was clever with some spit screen work that looked good. I'm just not a big murder mystery fan.

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wcrldliar · 2 years

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catws is still singlehandedly the best mcu film

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wanderingguest · 1 year

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+ open

“Nah, c’mon, it’ll be fun.” It’s impossible to disguise just how amused Sam is. Most of the time, he can hold back. This isn’t one of those times, though. “What? You scared? Didn’t think you got scared. I’m learnin’ new things about you every day.”

#( .open )#( .open starter )#( c. sam wilson )#(meeehhh)#(i'm just trying to get back in the swing of things here)

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lifetanes · 2 years

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i get joking about people who haven’t watched tfatws and them completely missing the point in endgame about sam becoming cap but… i also think it’s sadly pretty telling that in all the projects that have followed tfatws none have even the slightest mention of sam as cap. like genuinely if you wouldn’t have watched tfatws and didn’t know about whatever that food thing is then i don’t think you’d know without actively seeking it out bc sam’s presence as cap is never truly acknowledged in the mcu beyond that point… which makes me feel very iffy

#sam wilson #captain america #like theres barely any activity on the cap twittee #the icon is a shield #and lets not forget how they stuffed captain c*rter in there for a long time #who for some reason has had more presence im the mcu than sam!cap has had ever since taking on the mantle #im writing this without having watched thor btw #and ive only started watching ms marvel #so i might be wrong about no mention

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murder-popsicle · 11 months

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#comics #c: sam wilson #i need me a sam

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whumpybucky · 2 years

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A promise

Pairing: sam x bucky (early FATWS-era)

Word count: 3,784

Summary: Bucky is adjusting to life as an ex-assassin. Sam made a promise to look out for Bucky and he wasn’t about to break it. Quelle surprise when Bucky doesn’t want to admit he’s sick and Sam just wants to take care of him.

A/n: Here's 3.7k words of angst and hurt/comfort that absolutely no one asked for, with poor Bucky getting hit with the flu and Sam being the most soft and protective.

Sam sighed as he put his phone face down on his desk. Yet another one of his texts to Bucky left on read.

He knew the super soldier was still adjusting. Working through things. The state-mandated therapy alone must be uncomfortable at best, and much too close to the forced treatment he endured for decades at worst. Not to mention Steve. Christ, if Sam was still mourning the loss of his best friend he can only imagine what Bucky felt losing him twice. More like a thousand times over with what Hydra did to him.

Sam shook his head, willing the images of Bucky being tortured out of his mind’s eye. He had seen some of the lost footage. A last minute mission he and Steve went on to an old abandoned Hydra base while Bucky was still in Wakanda.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had confiscated some old boxes containing mostly useless administrative documents from Hydra’s glory days. They did, however, find plans of a small building and Steve and Sam were supposed to fly in, level it, and fly out. That was the plan, until Steve had noticed a secret room no bigger than a broom closet on the lowest floor of the drawings. The Winter Soldier symbol, like a tiny star-shaped blood drop in the middle of the room’s outline, with no other description. I’ve just got a feeling, Steve had said. Sam followed without question.

Well, Steve had been right. After killing a few scattered Hydra loyals left to guard the otherwise abandoned base, the two Avengers found the closet lined with reel-to-reel tape and a somehow functioning projector. They spent hours checking each roll, all which turned out documentation of Hydra’s failed experiments. And the one successful one.

It’s the only time Sam ever witnessed Steve fully break. It took two minutes before he vomited. Another two before he dropped to his knees, sobbing into his hands, choked apologies sputtering out of his mouth to his closest friend who was thankfully continents away.

Sam just held the blonde super soldier until he was all dried up. Then, as if a switch was flicked, Steve simply got up and continued checking every last tape until they had separated them all into two piles: Winter Soldier and others. When they were done, Steve told Sam to wait outside. I need to do this, he had said. So Sam stood back and watched as the captain filled the empty duffle bags they had brought with the ‘other’ tapes. Then he dumped an entire bottle of lighter fluid on the Winter Soldier pile, and stood there with sweat beading on his forehead from the flames, coughing at the fumes, until he verified with his own eyes that every last tape had burned to a crisp.

No one needed to watch the torture his best guy had endured. And he couldn’t risk Bucky seeing even a minute of it—he already relived it nearly every night. So Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. be damned, as far as Steve was concerned the Winter Soldier program was over. Gone. Do not resuscitate.

Sam would have followed Steve anywhere. It's why he never breathed a word about the tapes to anyone. It’s also why he agreed not just out loud, but in his heart, to watch over Bucky when Steve asked him to that day he handed him the shield. It’s the only thing he had been sure about in the aftermath of the blip, the war, Thanos, losing Natasha, Tony, Steve. Nothing made sense except that.

Everything Bucky had endured. The freezing and thawing. Losing autonomy over his body. Watching from the inside as his hands inflicted unimaginable pain, unable to stop them. Memories of a young life stolen from him just as they would start to form again, at the tips of his fingers like dust in a sunbeam on a summer afternoon.

Watching over Bucky gave Sam purpose. A reason to keep going. Being needed was a powerful motivator. And whether Bucky admitted it or not, deep down Sam knew he needed somebody. And he promised Steve he would be that somebody.

It’s why he never went more than a week without texting the Brooklyn native from then on. Sometimes a photo. Sometimes a link to an article he thought Bucky might find interesting. Sometimes a Hope you’re ok. Here if you want to chat. The last text was letting Bucky know he was going to be in New York for the weekend and that they should grab a bite.

He wouldn’t give up. A promise was a promise. And Sam kept his promises.

—————

“Are you still having nightmares?”

“No,” Bucky lied.

“So what do you call that dream you were just telling me about?”

“Dunno doc, you tell me.” Bucky’s added scoff turned into a cough that turned into a twenty second fit, ending with Dr. Raynor handing him a bottle of water,

Bucky accepted, nodding in gratitude once the fit had finally passed.

“You know, it’s okay to let yourself rest once in a while,” she reminded Bucky once she had sat herself back down into her wingback chair.

“I rested for nearly 70 years.”

Bucky caught the furrow of Dr. Raynor’s brow from the corner of his eye.

“You and I both know that was anything but rest.” She moved forward in her seat, placing her notebook onto the small white side table beside her chair. “You’ve been through a lot, James. Mentally, physically. You need time to heal.”

“Is that what this is?” Bucky gestured between the two of them with a gloved hand as he rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at his therapist.

“If you want it to be.”

Of course. Always putting the ball back in his court.

Another cough wracked through Bucky’s lungs. The other half of the water bottle helped stop the fit before it began.

“You’re clearly unwell. Your homework this week is to rest. And reach out to Sam, let him know how you’re doing.”

Another eye roll. Another cough. “I’m fine, just a tickle.”

“You know, you don’t have to keep punishing yourself.” She paused before adding, “You’re not him anymore.”

Her frankness caught him off guard and he made real, true eye contact with Dr. Raynor for the first time during their entire session.

“I… I'm not…” another cough escaped Bucky's lips and he quickly caught it with his fist.

“Just think about at least replying to one of his texts, alright? He cares about you. Let him. I'm going to end our session for today. You need to go home and rest.”

Bucky sighed as he looked away. He was tired, that was all.

“Fine by me. See ya next week.”

“Take care, James. Feel better.”

Bucky shook his head as he passed the forest wallpaper on his way out. He was fine. And even if he wasn’t, it’s nothing the serum couldn’t handle. A nap would fix him right up. Well, at least it would take care of the cough he’d woken up with. The rest of him was another story entirely.

He skipped his post therapy sushi lunch routine, opting to head straight home. After checking each window and room in his apartment, he downed a power bar and an Ensure before slumping into the couch. His eyes glanced at his phone on the coffee table. Sam’s last text had said he was in town for the weekend. Bucky wondered if he was already here. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to meet for a drink.

His chest ached suddenly. He missed Sam. A lot.

Sam had been there for Bucky when he fell into a depression after Steve had come back to give Sam the shield. In return, Bucky had helped Sam realize he was good enough to be the next captain. It was one of the few times when Bucky felt connected again. When Sam was sent to D.C. Bucky tried to be happy for him. Said he would keep in touch. But he just couldn’t get into texting. And after a few calls went unanswered, Bucky convinced himself that Sam was better off without him.

Now alone in his apartment, the thought that Sam might be in the same city buzzing around his pounding head, Bucky ached to see his friend that he had left on read these past months.

The realization was interrupted by a cough that scraped his throat and made him wince. Shifting onto his side, the super soldier curled into himself, head on the armrest of the sofa and legs tucked in. He couldn’t seem to get warm, but the blanket bunched at his makeshift floor bed was too far away. Besides, he was used to being cold. He could tough it out. He had felt worse. He was just tired. Too many sleepless nights. He would shut his eyes for five minutes. Five minutes and he would finally text Sam back. Fuck it, he’d call him. Just five minutes and the ache at his temples and the throbbing in his throat would be gone.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, Bucky was being pulled awake by someone pounding on the walls. Or maybe it was the door? The noise had Bucky stuck between sleeping and waking as he scrambled to get his bearings. His eyes blinked, adjusting to his now dark apartment where everything in the room suddenly seemed too big for some reason.

He was in Brooklyn. It was 2023. He was James Buchanan Barnes and he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

He repeated the mantra a few times until his heart slowed. A sigh left his lips as the noise that woke him seemed to slip back into his dreams. But his next inhale caught the back of his tender throat and a coughing fit burst through his lungs, setting them on fire. Fighting to catch his breath Bucky grabbed the mug of water he’d left on the coffee table earlier that morning.

“Bucky! Open up man, I can hear you in there.”

So it wasn’t a dream.

Bucky swallowed the water and nearly cried out at the pain. He put his metal fist on his chest, and took a few shallow breaths, willing his lungs to cooperate. Then he attempted to get up off the couch. And what an attempt it was. He felt like he was a newborn colt, shaky and weak, unable to maintain a straight line. He barely made it to the door, grabbing onto the beveled wooden casing for support before unlocking the deadbolt and chain.

—————

Just as he was about to head back down the hall to the stairwell, Sam heard Bucky cough. So he knocked one more time, announcing his presence. Then he waited. The sound of footsteps on creaky hardwood floors started up, though something seemed off about their rhythm. Eventually the door swung open and the reason was obvious.

“Jesus christ, James, you look like shit.”

“Nice to see you too, Sam.” His voice was hoarse and Sam noted the pained look that flashed across Bucky’s face as he cleared his throat.

He eyed the super soldier up and down, trying to figure out his next move. “You got someone in there, or…”

“Unless they snuck in while I was passed out on the couch, it’s just me and the air.” Bucky followed the sarcastic retort by catching a jagged cough into the crook of his elbow.

“I, uh, did you get my text?”

Bucky sighed, “Y-yeah man. I’m, uh, sorry I haven’t responded. I was gonna today, but then I fell asleep and…” Another cough rattled through his friend’s chest.

“‘S all good, man. You sound sick. Can I come in and make you some tea or something? I could order you some soup, or—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m—” Bucky paused to clear his throat, “fine.”

“Right. I don’t know what you and Steve used to define as “fine” back in the day, but this sure ain’t it.”

“Seriously, Sam, I’ll catch some shut eye and be right as rain tomorrow.” Bucky managed to get all that out between sputtering coughs that he tried to cover with his fist. But that was as far as he would get in this interaction. All of a sudden he was doubled over, tears from the strain leaking onto his flushed cheeks as he battled his lungs.

“Buck, c’mon, let’s get you inside,” Sam pleaded softly.

He wanted so badly to rub his friend’s back, but restrained himself. He remembered how hard it was to be touched after coming back from his final tour. After losing Riley. Everything had been too much sometimes and the idea of someone touching him would send him into a panic. As if the slightest brush against his arm and the entire world would simply shatter.

Maybe he was projecting. But he would rather err on the side of caution. The last thing he wanted was become one more thing Bucky had to tolerate. Especially in the state he had just found him in.

The coughing finally eased off and Bucky stood as upright as he could, still clutching the doorway. Sam was about to reiterate his last suggestion when a strange look flooded Bucky’s face. His brows furrowed, as if he was confused. Then the confusion turned to realization and a quiet “fuck” slipped past Bucky’s lips. Before Sam could reach out his arms to stop it, Bucky had collapsed in the entrance to his apartment like a rag doll.

So much for not touching him.

—————

The first time Bucky woke up, his skin felt like it was on fire yet he was achingly cold deep into the marrow of his bones. He hadn’t felt that cold since—

“Hey, James. I need to take your temperature. Can you open up for me?”

Bucky had never been more grateful to hear Sam’s voice. He opened his mouth. He wasn’t a fan of medical equipment, but he’d been through enough evaluations with Dr. Cho, then in Wakanda. He had learned to tolerate it if the situation warranted it.

Judging by the worsened pounding in his head, the burning in his throat, and the heaviness bearing down on his chest, this seemed like one of those times.

The thermometer beeped and Sam brought it close, a whistle escaping his lips as he read the results. “Damn, James, you really got hit hard.”

Bucky suddenly registered that he was somehow in bed. And Sam was here. “W-what’s happening? Y-your here.”

“I am. I texted you that I was going to be in town and decided to pop by since I knew you’d never respond. As for what’s going on? You have a temperature of 103.1. Turns out super soldiers can get sick,” Sam added, though Bucky was still having a hard time processing it all with his fever-wracked brain.

“I’m going to help you sit up for just a minute, okay?”

Bucky nodded. He still couldn’t grasp what was happening, but he trusted Sam.

“Take a sip of this. You need fluids”

It was sweet. Tasted like the apple juice Steve’s ma used to pour them on hot summer days, unfiltered with a tartness to it.

“That’s good. Now I need you to take these pills. It’s just Tylenol. For your fever, and the aches.”

How did Sam know he was in pain? Did he tell him about how his shoulder felt like it was made of lead right now? How all his joints were throbbing? That even his hair follicles hurt?

“I can see that cyborg brain of yours working. I’ve had the flu before, Buck. I know how uncomfortable it is.”

“Oh.” The soft acknowledgement was all he could muster as his brain slowly connected the pieces together. He took the pills that Sam put in his flesh hand and was now guiding up to his mouth. Then he swallowed them with the juice Sam brought back to his lips.

The flu. He hadn’t had the flu since before the war. Before…

A glorious cold sensation on his forehead broke him out of his thoughts as Sam guided him back down to his pillow. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, then he drifted away.

—————

Pastel light filtered into Bucky’s room, waking Sam up from one of many naps he had taken throughout the night. It had taken six hours, another double dose of tylenol, and a lot of cold compresses before Bucky’s fever began to break. Sam had woken him every two hours to make sure his temperature was trending in the right direction. At least the serum seemed to speed things up. Last time Sam had the flu he had been out for two weeks. With any luck, Bucky would be back to his brooding self by tomorrow.

Sam silently chuckled at the thought of his friend’s surly exterior. It was growing on him in a way he didn’t understand, but didn’t care to fight either. And now, with the soft morning glow coming through the curtains of Bucky’s three-story walk up apartment, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried. He had allowed himself to fall asleep next to Bucky. Maybe it was overstepping. But it’s not like the ex-assassin had a guest bedroom. Besides, he needed to be close in case his fever kept rising.

He felt a warmth spread in his belly, and his cheeks followed suit as he watched his friend sleep. Bucky’s prosthesis was folded and pushing slightly against Sam’s chest. The gentle light signaling sunrise reflected off the sheen across his forehead. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his breathing was low and steady. Resting on his side, Bucky seemed so peaceful and Sam wondered if this is what he’d looked like before he got his papers. Youthful. Free.

A barely there cough stirred the super soldier and his eyes fluttered open, then shut again.

“How did you get in,” Bucky mumbled, voice gravelly and low.

“You let me in. Right before you fainted.”

“Uunnngghhhh.”

Sam chuckled at his friend’s embarrassment.

“‘S not funny,” Bucky mumbled against his pillow. His eyes opened again. They were soft this time. Almost warm.

“No, you’re right. You scared me there for a minute.”

Bucky grinned at that. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Had me checkin’ your temperature every two hours.”

“Didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did. You would’ve done the same.”

Bucky huffed at the statement, though quickly digressed into a coughing fit.

Sam pushed himself up from the bed and turned to grab a glass of water off the nightstand. Bucky sat up and took the glass, sipping slowly until he could breathe easy again. He offered a quiet “thanks” as he passed the glass back to Sam.

“I feel like I got hit by a bus,” Bucky moaned as he flopped back down into his pillow.

“That’s what the flu feels like,” Sam validated, laying back against the headboard, his chest bare.

Bucky looked up at him, his ice blue eyes searching Sam—for what, he couldn’t tell. He watched as Bucky’s brow began to crease slightly. A heavy silence hung between them for several minutes and Sam didn’t push. He would give Bucky all the time he needed to sort out his thoughts.

The super soldier’s eyes closed. Then he took a breath and in one motion, had positioned his head against Sam’s chest and his prosthesis draped over his stomach before either of them had a chance to get a word in.

Sam thought his cheeks might break at how wide his smile grew. The shock of the vulnerability of it all was quickly replaced by a comfort he’d only imagined when he granted himself the indulgence late at night. On instinct, Sam started carding his fingers through Bucky’s short waves.

“Mmmmmm.”

“Feels good?”

Sam felt Bucky’s head nodding.

“Good.” Sam replied softly. He placed his free palm on Bucky’s forehead. Still warm. “Jeez. How’d you get so sick?”

“Dunno,” Bucky shrugged. After a long silence he spoke again. “Raynor says I’m punishing myself.”

“Are you?” Sam asked, making sure he sounded as neutral as possible.

“Probably. Can’t seem to make up for it. No matter what I do.”

Sam didn’t hesitate. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky and simply held him. No words, just a solid, unshakable hold.

“You have nothing—nothing—to make up for. It wasn’t you, James. It was never you. And I’ll tell you a million times over until you believe it.”

Sam heard a sniff and felt dampness on his chest. He tightened his grip, never easing up until he felt Bucky’s shoulders relax and his breathing settle.

It was quiet. So quiet he almost missed it. But Sam heard Bucky whisper, “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he replied matter of factly. Then added, “think I’m going to start coming up to New York more often.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” A promise was a promise. Not that Sam needed promises to make him want to visit Bucky. To hear his cheeky sarcasm. To see his eyes blinking at him like sapphires in the morning light.

Sam’s heartbeat picked up at Bucky’s silence. Had he taken this too far? He was just going off his cues. But maybe it was too much. Too soon. Too—

“That’d be nice. Not great at texting. Better in-person.”

Sam chuckled at his friend’s blunt self-awareness.

“I noticed. And I get it.” He removed one arm from his hold to go back to playing with Bucky’s hair, but suddenly the super soldier was grabbing his wrist and lacing their fingers together. Then bringing them up to his lips, Bucky kissed the back of Sam’s hand. Chaste, but sweet.

“Thank you, for coming. For staying,” he muttered into Sam’s knuckles before bringing their hands back down to Sam’s chest.

Sam sighed. Two words that carried so much weight. The weight of your best friend—best guy—leaving you for a life lost. Leaving you lost in a life you didn’t choose.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

No declarations. Just an open invitation, if he wanted it. Sam would always let Bucky choose.

Bucky’s lips pressed into the back of his hand again. A silent response, but Sam heard it loud and clear.

Within a minute Bucky’s breathing had slowed, and Sam felt the brunette become heavier on his chest. With his one free arm, Sam pulled the blanket up and around his friend’s shoulders. Then he pressed the ghost of a kiss into the top of his head before relaxing into his pillow and letting his eyes close.

He could get used to this.

#no one asked for this #but i wrote it anyways #my fic #sambucky #sam x bucky #sickfic #marvel sickfic #m/c/u #winterfalcon #soft sick bucky #protective sam wilson

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yaksomins · 2 years

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i’m trying to think of what to work in as my first fic after my long hiatus…! would y’all rather see me finish one of my older projects (midnight in lisbon or always and forever) or would someone like to request something new? i’m open to suggestions!

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #i had so many ideas for the winterfalcon bigbang i never got to do too #like a coffee shop au #:c

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badmovieihave · 10 months

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Bad movie I have Dexter : The Final Season aka Season Eight 2013

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mysterieuxclairdelune · 1 year

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{Hannah Green, from "Are you still hungry, Mother?"/ Anne Carson/Sam Gordon, "A Mother's Hate"/ Ella Wilson/ Joan Tierney/ Ella Wilson/ Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous/ Unknown/ Nayyirah Waheed/ Sharon Olds, “Holding To A Wall, Treading Saltwater”/ John Green, Turtles All the Way Down/ Safia Elhillo, "an inheritance," published in Narrative Northeast/ Annie Ernaux, from I Remain in Darkness/ Poplar Street by Chen Chen/ Unknown/ Tumblr User: @inkskinned/ Elena Poniatowska, from "La Flor de Lis," published c. January 2011/ Kyung-Sook Shin, Please Look After Mom}

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lokisgoodgirl · 3 months

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Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

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