Treesoutside

(I’ve never done this b4, pls don’t judge lmao)

Currently Reading—-

I’m reading like 3 things at once- (I actually don’t read, my adhd is too severe [yes send help], I put them in a text to speech app and listen) currently the the things I’m reading is One stucky Fic and 2 sentryagent ones

(These are all on AO3- please check them out it’s so good)

Stucky Fic—- (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66176032/chapters/170565772

Sentryagent fic 1 (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65454283/chapters/168464314

Sentryagent Fic 2 (18+)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/68146701/chapters/176289391

And then a bonus one I just finished- this one might be my fav Fic of all time

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67613171/chapters/174765371

Last series—

I deadass can’t remember but I love rewatching marvel shows- I watch too many things in one single day….

BUT I WILL TELL YOU my favs shows.. (how’s that?…)

1-Lessons in chemistry - I literally love this show- I love never read the book and I only watched it for Lewis- but holy shit- this got me into a crying mess, it’s so good.

2-TFAWS- idk what to say man, this show just got me

3-WV- Best representation of grief

4- Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D

IM LOOKING FORWARD TO WONDERMAN

Last Movie

Surprisingly NOT MARVEL!!! I just Watched the Housemaid and god was that good

Last Song—-

My last Song was actually a C-Pop song

半句再见-孙燕姿

(Lingering- Yanzi Sun)

it’s my first language so I understand it-but ik it’s a hard language so I’ll give you another one

Goddess By Laufey

Sweet Or Salty—-

If I had to choose one for the rest of my life then salty. But normally it just depends on what I’m craving

Tea Or coffee—-

I hate tea… I’m sorry!! And I also hate coffee…. I’m also sorry…. (But am I?)

Currently Working on—

I’m working on this multi chapter fanfic- it’s a fluffy angst/smutty fic- Spider-sentry (not a lot of people do that so I wanted to try something new) and Winteragent- starting in Chapter 1 Winter agent is already established, but with some conflicts between the bob and Bucky (they’re exes) and eventually Bucky helps bob to date Peter. Yes ik it’s random but I think it’s pretty good..

Thanks again for @sugarskies for tagging me! Love you so much!!!

Winteragent/ Bucky x John

FWB-Dating

WC~1.7K

Yelena/Ava/Bob/Bucky/Alexei/John

18+

Please DNI if under the age

The Watchtower’s 85th floor had become a strange kind of home, whether any of them wanted to admit it or not. Val’s “family bonding” experiment meant they all lived on top of each other—suites branching off a shared hallway, communal kitchen and lounge always occupied by someone. Privacy was an illusion. Super-hearing turned every moan, every argument, every late-night fridge raid into public knowledge.

There was no masked enforcer lurking in the background—when Val wanted control, Yelena handled it openly, and when something needed to disappear quietly, Ava took care of it.

Bucky and John had been fucking for months—raw, violent, no-strings sex that started as hate and slowly turned into something neither wanted to name. They kept it quiet at first. Midnight visits, leaving before dawn. No visible marks, no public touches. Just release. But John had never been good at rules he didn’t like.

Bucky’s five-day black-bag op in Eastern Europe left John crawling out of his skin. The serum turned downtime into agony; he needed friction, pain, dominance. He jerked off in the shower to memories of Bucky’s vibranium grip, woke hard dreaming of that cold hand choking the breath from him. Nothing satisfied.

So when Bob Reynolds wandered into the communal kitchen at 2 a.m.—shirtless, sleepy-eyed, asking if John wanted to “blow off some steam”—John didn’t hesitate.

They ended up in Bob’s suite. Bob was careful, almost tender—kissing down John’s torso, checking in constantly, fucking him slow and deep on clean sheets. It was good sex. Kind sex. It was everything John didn’t crave. He wanted to be wrecked. Wanted bruises that lasted weeks. Wanted to feel thoroughly used and irrevocably owned. Most of all, he wanted Bucky to find out and snap. Mission accomplished.

Yelena figured it out from Bob’s dazed, satisfied grin in the elevator the next morning. By breakfast, the whole floor knew. Ava smirked over her coffee. Alexei boomed congratulations at Bob loud enough to echo down the hall. The gossip spread like wildfire. Bucky returned two days later.

He stepped off the elevator looking worn—hair longer, stubble heavy, eyes shadowed. He dropped his duffel outside his door, nodded once at Yelena in the kitchen, and vanished into his suite without a word.John watched from the lounge, pulse racing. He waited. Bucky didn’t emerge. So John poked the bear.

Team movie night came—some loud, dumb action flick Alexei insisted on. The lounge was crowded: Red Guardian taking up half the sectional like a hibernating bear, Yelena curled in an armchair with a bowl of popcorn, Ava half-phased through the ottoman for laughs, Bob perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair like he’d rather disappear.

John strolled in late, wearing low-slung gray sweats and a tight black tank that clung to every muscle. He dropped onto the loveseat right beside Bucky, thigh pressing deliberately against Bucky’s, and stretched with deliberate laziness.

“Rough trip?” John asked, voice carrying. “You look beat. Good thing some of us found productive ways to kill time.” Bucky went statue-still. The metal arm whirred faintly.

John leaned in, lips grazing Bucky’s ear. “Bob’s got incredible stamina. Fucked me twice without needing a breather. You should ask him for pointers.” Bucky’s inhale was sharp enough to cut glass. Then he exploded.

The vibranium hand flashed out, fingers clamping around John’s throat. Bucky surged up, dragging John with him and slamming him into the nearest wall. Reinforced plaster cracked. Popcorn scattered like confetti. The room went dead silent.

John’s heart hammered against cold metal, cock already hard and obvious in his sweats. His grin was pure, unrepentant brat—wide, taunting, thrilled. “You jealous little slut,” Bucky snarled, voice low and deadly. “You planned this.” John licked his lips. “Prove it.”

Bucky’s grip tightened until stars burst behind John’s eyes. Yelena moved first, sharp and decisive—grabbing Alexei’s arm with a clipped “Out. Now.” Ava went fully solid just long enough to haul Bob toward the door, expression unreadable. Bob muttered apologies as he fled.

The door slammed. They were alone. John wheezed, still smirking. “Gonna kill me, Barnes? Or just gonna hold my neck all night like a creep?”

Bucky leaned in until their foreheads touched. “You want to be punished that bad? You want me to break you for running to Bob?” John’s voice was barely a rasp. “Yes. Ruin me. Fuck me so hard no one else will ever feel good enough again. Make this hole yours forever.”Something savage ignited in Bucky’s eyes.

He released the throat only to fist John’s hair and haul him down the hall. John stumbled eagerly, breathless laughter bubbling out. Bucky kicked his suite door open, shoved John inside, and locked it behind them. Clothes didn’t survive. Bucky ripped John’s tank clean in half. Sweats were yanked down and torn at the seams. John clawed at Bucky’s shirt—buttons pinged across the floor.

Bucky manhandled him face-down over the arm of the couch, pinning both wrists at the small of his back with the unyielding metal hand. “You want to be ruined?” Bucky’s voice was dark velvet and venom. “I’ll destroy this greedy little cunt until you can’t walk without remembering exactly who owns it.”

John moaned shamelessly, pushing his ass up. “Do it. Make me regret ever letting anyone else near me.”Bucky spat into his palm—no patience for lube—and shoved two fingers in rough. John hissed, squirming, but arched back greedily.

“Pathetic,” Bucky degraded, twisting deep. “Couldn’t last five days without cock. Had to go begging Bob to fill you up like the desperate whore you are.”John laughed breathlessly. “He was gentle. Held my hand. Asked if I was okay. Bet you can do better.”

Bucky added a third finger brutally, stretching him wide. “Keep that mouth running, brat. I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you.” John sobbed into the cushion, tears starting already. “Please—Daddy—” The word fell heavy.

Not teasing. Surrender.

It meant: I’m terrified you’ll never want to keep all of me. So take whatever you need. Ruin me if that’s easier than loving me. Just don’t leave me empty. Bucky froze for half a second. Then he withdrew his fingers and slammed home in one merciless thrust. John screamed—raw, shattered, perfect.

Bucky gave no quarter. He fucked like retribution—deep, punishing strokes that punched the air from John’s lungs. The metal hand kept wrists locked; the flesh one bruised his hip.

“You think anyone else could handle this?” Bucky snarled, angling to hammer John’s prostate relentlessly. “Think Bob could make you cry like a bitch in heat?”

“No—” John choked, tears streaming freely. “Only you—Daddy—only ever you—”

“Good boy,” Bucky praised, voice rough with emotion even as his hips snapped harder. “Taking your punishment so perfectly. So pretty when you’re broken open on my cock.”

The blend of degradation and praise shredded John completely. He babbled—bratty defiance one breath, desperate pleading the next. “Harder—ruin me—make it hurt so fucking good—please—”

Bucky obliged, pounding without mercy. “Greedy little slut. My perfect slut. This hole was made for me—tight, hot, begging. No one else will ever satisfy you again.”

John keened, body trembling violently. “Want that—want to be yours—don’t know if I deserve—” The fear slipped out raw.

Bucky slowed just enough to lean down, biting John’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “You already are,” he growled against skin. “You’ve been mine for months, you idiot. You think I’d let anyone else keep what’s mine?” John whimpered, pushing back frantically. “Prove it—breed me—fill me—mark me inside out—”

Bucky’s rhythm turned feral. “Gonna fuck you raw every day from now on. Gonna plug you after so you feel me even when I’m gone. Gonna make sure you never doubt who you belong to again.”

“Yes—Daddy—please—” Bucky wrapped a rough hand around John’s leaking cock. “Come for me, brat. Show me you’re mine.”

John shattered—sobbing Bucky’s name, clenching hard as he came untouched until that fist stroked him through it. The spasm dragged Bucky over; he buried deep and flooded John, groaning like the release hurt.

They collapsed sideways onto the couch, Bucky still seated inside, arms locking around John’s shaking body possessively.

Long minutes passed—ragged breathing, soft kisses pressed to sweat-damp skin. Eventually Bucky pulled out slow. John whined at the emptiness, hole clenching futilely.

Bucky fetched a warm cloth and water. He cleaned John with gentle, reverent strokes—wiping tears, sweat, cum, soothing over fresh bruises with murmured apologies. John curled into his chest, face buried in Bucky’s neck. “You meant it? That I’m yours? For real?”

Bucky tilted his chin up, eyes fierce and steady. “Every damn word. You’re mine, John Walker. The bratty mouth, the insecure parts, the pieces that think they’re unlovable—all of it. I’m keeping you.”

John’s breath hitched, eyes wet again. “I’ve been yours forever. Just didn’t think you’d ever want to keep me.”

“I’m keeping you,” Bucky said, voice unbreakable. “No more testing me with stunts like Bob. You need punishment—you come to me. You need to feel owned—you come to me. You need love—you come to me.”

John nodded, small smile breaking through. “Yes, Daddy.” Bucky kissed him slow and deep—no battle, just promise.

They moved to the bed eventually, tangled under sheets that smelled like sex and them. John fell asleep with Bucky’s metal fingers tracing soothing patterns along his spine. Morning arrived too soon.

John limped into the communal kitchen wearing Bucky’s oversized hoodie and a smug, satisfied grin. Every step pulled at sore, ruined muscles and made him shiver with memory. Yelena glanced up from her coffee, eyebrow arched. “You walk like you lost fight with truck.”John poured a mug, wincing dramatically as he lowered himself—very carefully—onto a stool. “Worth every second.”

Bucky followed minutes later, hair damp, sweatpants low, arm sliding possessively around John’s waist. He pressed a deliberate kiss to the dark bite mark on John’s neck—visible for all to see. Alexei boomed a laugh that rattled mugs. “About time! No more sneaking around like teenagers!”

Ava smirked. Bob flushed but offered a sheepish nod. “We cool?” John grinned. “We’re cool. But next time you want to ‘spar,’ find another partner.” Bucky’s arm tightened. Message delivered.

Bobbucky/WinterSentry

Established relationship-Angsty

WC~1K

Yelena / Bob / Bucky

Bob doesn’t mean to disappear.

That’s the thing no one ever understands about it—not even him. It’s never a decision so much as a reflex, like flinching before the pain lands.

Bucky’s voice hadn’t even been raised. That almost made it worse. Frustrated, tired, threaded with fear he didn’t know how to name. Bob heard every unspoken thing underneath it: I don’t know how to help you. I’m scared. I’m losing you.

And somehow, Bob twisted it into something else entirely. I hurt him. The thought splits him open.

By the time Bucky realizes Bob hasn’t followed him into the kitchen, it’s already too late. The bedroom feels wrong.

Bucky knows it the second he steps inside. The air is heavy, light dimmed like someone turned the world down halfway. Bob is on the bed, lying perfectly still, arms slack at his sides.

His skin is black. Not bruised. Not burned. black. Like the absence of everything. “Bob?” Bucky whispers, already moving.

He grabs Bob’s shoulders, shaking him gently at first, then harder. There’s no response. No breath. No warmth.

Panic explodes in his chest. “No—no, no, no, no,” he mutters, hands trembling as he presses his ear to Bob’s chest. “Come on, sweetheart. Please.”

Nothing. Bucky stumbles back like he’s been hit, then spins on his heel and runs.

Yelena doesn’t ask questions. She sees Bucky’s face—ashen, eyes glassy with terror—and that’s enough.

In the bedroom, she sits immediately, taking Bob’s hand in both of hers. It’s cold, limp, lifeless in a way that makes her jaw tighten. “This is okay,” she says calmly, even as something sharp twists in her chest. “I have done worse things than this.”

She closes her eyes. The Void opens like a wound. The first thing Yelena notices is how small the space is.

An attic. Narrow, slanted ceiling, dusty beams overhead. Boxes stacked neatly, like someone tried to organize a life that never made sense. There’s a single window, barely letting light in.

Bob is sitting on the floor. Knees pulled to his chest. Arms wrapped tight around himself. He stares at the wall like it’s safer than looking at her.

Yelena lowers herself down across from him, slow and unthreatening, legs crossing easily. “I am not here to pull you out,” she says gently. “I am just here to sit.”

Bob doesn’t react. “That is fine,” she continues. “You do not have to speak. You can pretend I am not here. I will still talk.” Silence stretches.

“I used to hate quiet like this,” Yelena says softly. “After Natasha died.” Bob’s fingers twitch.

“She died saving the universe,” Yelena goes on. “Everyone called her a hero. Everyone told me to be proud.” Her mouth tightens. “No one asked if I wanted the universe without my sister.”

She exhales shakily. “I was empty,” she admits. “Every day. I woke up angry that I had woken up at all.” She glances at Bob. “I did not want to be alive.”

Bob’s head tilts, just barely. “I thought about dying,” Yelena says plainly. “Often. It felt easier than carrying the grief. Easier than missing her every second.”

She folds her hands in her lap. “And then there was you.” Bob’s eyes flick to her and away again.

“You were broken,” she says. “Lost. Convinced you were dangerous just for existing.” A sad smile curves her mouth. “Very annoying.” A pause.

“But when I sat with you,” Yelena continues, “when I listened to you… something changed. The weight did not disappear. But it felt lighter. Like maybe I did not have to be alone inside it.”

She leans forward slightly.

“You are kind, Bob. You are gentle in a world that taught you to be afraid of yourself. You do not hurt people because you want to—you hurt yourself trying not to.”

Her voice grows firmer. “You did not hurt Bucky.” Bob flinches.

“He is terrified,” Yelena says. “Terrified of losing you. When people are afraid, they sound angry. They sound sharp. But I swear on my life—he loves you. He is losing his mind out there.”

Silence. Then, so quietly it almost disappears—

“I thought I broke him,” Bob whispers. Yelena shakes her head. “No. You scared him. There is difference.”

She softens. “You saved me, Bob. After Natasha died, I did not think I would ever feel connected to anyone again. And then you were there. My brother, even if the universe did not label you that way.” Her eyes burn.

“Maybe Natasha saw me drowning,” she says. “And maybe she sent you.” Bob’s breath shudders. “Thank you,” he says, voice cracking.

He crawls forward suddenly, collapsing into her arms. The sobs come hard and fast, body shaking as he presses his face into her shoulder.

“I love you,” he cries. “Both of you. So much.”

Yelena wraps him up, holding him fiercely. “I know,” she murmurs. “I do too.” Bob opens his eyes.

Bucky is standing in the corner of the attic, frozen, eyes red-rimmed and terrified. Yelena sighs. “Yes. I noticed him too.” Bucky swallows. “I was just—worried.”

“I know,” Bob says.

He pulls away from Yelena and practically launches himself at Bucky, arms locking tight around him. Bucky clutches him back like he’s anchoring himself to the world.

“I thought you were gone,” Bucky whispers. “I don’t care how scared I sounded. I don’t care about anything except you staying.” Bob kisses him—desperate, grounding, real. A pillow hits Bob square in the face.

“Enough,” Yelena says. “You can make out later. We should leave before the Void decides to keep you.” Bob laughs wetly and nods, focusing carefully. Slowly, gently, he pulls them back.

They wake up together. Bob is curled into Bucky’s chest, arms wrapped tight around him. Yelena sits on the edge of the bed, still holding Bob’s hand like a promise.

“I will help Alexei with dinner,” she says. “You two stay here. Where I can see you.”

To everyone who hates this movie or mocks the fandom:

I need you to understand something that goes far beyond your “it wasn’t for me” takes and your tired “Marvel flop” comments. Thunderbolts is not just a superhero film. It’s not just another CGI showdown. It’s not a project designed to impress people who already decided they were going to hate it months before release.

This film is a lifeline — and the fact that some of you can’t see that honestly says more about your privilege than it does about the movie. Because here’s the truth:

Some people need to hear “you’re not alone.” Not in a cheesy way. Not in a surface-level inspirational-quote way.

They need to hear it from a story that understands pain, guilt, trauma, loneliness, and the fight to keep going when you feel like you’ve already fallen apart.

And when that message comes from a studio like Marvel — with worldwide reach, with characters people have grown up with, with actors who pour their souls into broken, complicated characters — it hits differently. It reaches people who have no one else saying this to them in real life.

Some of you laugh at that. Some of you roll your eyes. But someone out there watches this movie after a terrible night and hears “Your past doesn’t define you. You’re allowed to heal. You’re allowed to change. Your humanity is still yours.”

Do you understand how rare that is? Do you realize how powerful it is when a billion-dollar franchise uses its platform to validate the experiences of people who feel invisible?

These characters weren’t written as perfect heroes. They were written as people fighting themselves — people carrying guilt, shame, grief, loneliness, and trauma they don’t know how to name.

And seeing them choose to keep living, keep fighting, keep trying… That matters. To a lot of people, it matters more than you think. You might not have the same struggles.

You might not have ever needed a movie to tell you you’re worth something. Good for you. Genuinely. But don’t pretend that makes this story meaningless.

Don’t pretend your emotional detachment makes you objective. Some of us see ourselves in the pain.

Some of us see ourselves in the cracks, the guilt, the shame, the exhaustion. Some of us needed a movie that says:

“You are not the worst thing you’ve done. You are not the monster your past made you believe you are. You deserve connection. You deserve to stay.”

This film didn’t just show action — it showed struggle. It showed pain. It showed how hard it is to heal, how messy it is to try, how terrifying it is to open up, and how badly people want to feel safe with someone.

And above everything, it gave the one message every human being will need at some point in their life:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

So if you walked into this movie wanting explosions and jokes and came out disappointed, fine. Not every movie is built for you.

But don’t you dare belittle a film that gave someone hope. Don’t mock the story that might have kept someone breathing for one more day.

Don’t tear down the thing that reminded someone they still matter. You may not need or needed this message. But millions of people do. And this film delivered it with more honesty, heart, and humanity than most blockbusters even attempt.

I’m so tired of MCU Stans saying this movie sucked or marvel flopped or Mcu died with Tony.

YES I AGREE! The mcu died with Tony ALONG time ago. But it doesn’t mean that a message like this movie flopped or sucked. It may have not met your expectations or standards, but the overall message it told MILLIONS of people GLOBALLY might have given them ONE more chance.

After endgame we see the MCU slowly telling a message “your past doesn’t define you, your humanity does.” WE SEE THAT With Wandavision, TFAWS, DSMOM, Shang Chi, Agatha All Along, The marvels, Loki, GOA.

These Film/TV shows may have not been to your liking or expectations but the overall message was built up until this moment, until this movie! People need to understand not just because John Walker killed a innocent man it makes him a horrible person, or just because Agatha tried to take Wanda’s power it makes her wrong, or just because Wanda was grieving but took a town hostage, but the thing is THEY all did what they thought could to make the pain stop.

Not every hero is perfect, matter of fact-

NO HERO IS PERFECT

Not Steve, not Tony, not Thor, not Nat, not Clint, not Bruce.

You can dislike a film or movie, but please don’t hate the fandom. There’s always a deeper meaning and message that you WONT understand, that you will NEVER get.

So give it another chance after seeing this post

And if that makes you uncomfortable.

Ask yourself why?

🔞 18+

Please Skip this post if under the age

This is a established relationship

John was already rolling his eyes when Bob shut the bedroom door. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, kicking off his boots. “You said you wanted to ‘teach me a lesson.’ Let’s see it.”

Bob swallowed, trying not to get flustered. “I—I meant it. I can.” John snorted. “Sure you can, sweetheart.”

Bob moved fast, pressing John back against the wall and kissing him hard—trying to put all his confidence into that first push. John kissed back, slow and mocking, letting Bob think he had control.

“You practicing?” He murmured against his lips. “You look like you rehearsed this in the mirror.”Bob’s cheeks flushed. “I’m trying to be—serious.”

“And I’m trying not to laugh,” He said sweetly, patting his cheek. “Keep going.” Bob clenched his jaw, grabbed John by the hips, and dragged him toward the bed. John let him, still smirking like he was humoring a puppy.

Bob shoved him down onto the mattress and climbed over him. “Stop… talking like that.”

“Why?” John slid a hand up Bob’s chest, slow and taunting. “It makes you work harder.”

Bob pinned his wrists. “I’m supposed to be in control tonight.”

“You are,” John said lightly. “As much as you can be.” Bob groaned in frustration—and that just made John grin wider. He kissed him rougher this time, biting at John’s lower lip, grinding down until John’s breath faltered—just barely.

“Oh?” John’s smile flickered. “You’re actually doing something now.” He kissed down his neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “I’m trying to…put you in your place...”

“You’re adorable,” John whispered, pushing his hips up into him. “Now hurry up and fuck me before I fall asleep.” Bob inhaled sharply, tugging John’s pants down and flipping him onto his stomach. John arched his back like he owned the place.

Bob slapped his ass—hard.

John gasped, then laughed.

“That all you got?”

Bob slapped him again, harder, leaving a red handprint. John moaned into the sheets. “Okay… that one was nice.”

Bob palmed his hips, pulled him up, and pushed inside with one strong thrust, without prep. John’s breath broke. “F—fuck—”

Bob held his waist, trying to breathe steadily. “Still laughing?”

John pushed back against him, slow, filthy, deliberate.

“Mmhm. Your voice cracks when you’re trying to be stern.”

Bob thrust harder. John groaned, gripping the sheets. “There you go. That’s the good stuff.”

Bob leaned over him, kissing his shoulder, sweet even while pounding into him. “You make me crazy.” “Good,” John said, eyes rolling back as Bob hit deeper. “Use it.”

Bob grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. John moaned helplessly. “Still want to backtalk?” Bob whispered.

“Yes,” John panted. “Absolutely.”

Bob fucked him harder, chasing the sound of John’s voice breaking.

John’s knees slipped forward, hips shaking.

“Jesus, Bobby—” John groaned, “—you’re really trying to breed me tonight—huh?”

Bob’s breath stuttered. “I—yeah—fuck, yes—”

John smirked, even as pleasure wrecked him. “Do it then. Fill me. If you’re gonna act tough, commit.”

Bob’s rhythm collapsed into something needy and frantic. He wrapped an arm around John’s chest, pulling him up into a messy arch, kissing his jaw while he thrust deeper and deeper.

John’s moans turned desperate. “Bob—Bobby—don’t stop—give it to me—”

Bob buried himself inside him and came hard, holding John tight as John shuddered through his own orgasm, shaking against the sheets.

After a long moment, Bob collapsed beside him, panting. John rolled onto his back, hair a mess, voice unsteady. “Not bad, sweetheart.” Bob blushed hard.

John smirked, hooking a hand behind his neck and pulling him in for a slow kiss. “You can try teaching me another ‘lesson’ later.”