INCLUDES -> yelena belova, bob reynolds, john walker, bucky barnes
WARNINGS -> literally all fluff! no need to fear angst here (there is some minor swearing tho); walker calls the reader beautiful, and bucky calls them 'doll'
NOTES -> y'all i feel crazy about thunderbolts. i haven't had a writing kick like this in YEARS. also, no one hate me for john in this one, he's my problematic wife, ok? also i want wyatt russell bad. anyways, my requests/asks are open! and as always comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3
YELENA BELOVA. — sleepy movie night? you got it. there's snacks, blankets, a random movie, and so many cuddles.
"are you sure you don't want to go to bed, love?" yelena mutters to you. the tv softly glows in front of you both, whatever period piece was playing long forgotten. you've been curled around her side since the movie began, but now your arm is draped over her and your head has fallen to her shoulder.
"no, i'm up," your voice is rough from sleep, but you pick your head up anyways and stretch. "see?" yelena rolls her eyes at your loopy, exhausted smile.
"whatever you say," she replies with a teasing smile.
"mhm..." you adjust your position under the blanket so you can be sitting upright next to her. but the blanket is just so soft and yelena is so warm, and before you know it, it's only a few minutes before you're curled against her once more.
yelena works hard to stifle her laugh when you fall asleep, but she lets you stay there. the movie plays on dully—the man in it has made some apparently irredeemable mistake that the woman he loves will no doubt forgive him for. yelena leans her head against yours, swearing that she'll get up once the movie is over so the two of you can sleep in a proper bed.
the next morning, when bucky is getting coffee he sees the two of you curled up on the couch and can't help but smile. it's nice seeing that yelena's found someone she trusts.
BOB REYNOLDS. — both of you are up late at night, entirely unable to sleep. you because you're working on tech for the thunderbolts new avengerz, and bob simply wandering the tower at night.
bob doesn't exactly sleep well these days, not after the mess with the void. it isn't unusual to find him roaming the tower at odd times, and this time it's your turn to run into him.
you're working in some old lab that you assume was tony stark's back in the day. your back aches, your fingers raw from tinkering with yelena's widow equipment, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. it's a miracle you haven't electrocuted yourself already.
"you're still up?" a voice softly speaks from the hallway.
your heart nearly stops right there and then. "holy shit!"
"sorry," bob steps into the dim lights of the lab, his hands up in a show of peace. "i didn't mean to scare you."
"no, no, it's fine! you're fine." you smile at him. "what are you still doing up, sweetheart?"
"i can't sleep," his response is sheepish.
you stand, stretching your arms above your head, and walk over to him. "let's see if we can do something about that." you pull him along by the hand, fingers entwined.
by the time you both get to bed, your eyes are heavy with sleep. you pull bob closer to you, letting his heartbeat lull you gently to sleep. the comfort of your body against his, a reliable weight to keep him still and grounded, has him dozing in no time.
JOHN WALKER. — he's the one up, unable to sleep. you're fast asleep and he just takes in everything about you. maybe it's the slight frown you have in your sleep, or the way your hair falls into your face just a little, but he's captivated.
john lays opposite of you on the bed, just tracing your features with his eyes. he takes everything in slowly: the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your cheek, the curl of your lips. you're so beautiful, and honestly, john has no idea how he got so lucky.
with his track record, it's a miracle you-
"why'd you stop?" you mumble, still half asleep, interrupting his train of thought entirely. his hands, which had been tracing patterns softly over your skin, have long been still.
"didn't wanna keep you up," he mumbles back, and you crack open an incredulous eye at him.
you grumble something under your breath that john can't quite catch before pulling yourself closer to him.
"it was nice," you say, sleep already calling your name. so john continues.
he traces abstract patterns from the nape of your neck to your shoulders to your back. he feels the way your muscles loosen beneath his touch and the way your breath evens out.
and you know what? fuck his track record. if he got lucky enough to be graced by you, he damn well won't mess it up.
BUCKY BARNES. — this time it's you who can't sleep, and it's a good thing bucky has a tendency to stay up obnoxiously late reading his novels despite his other old man tendencies.
a soft knock comes from the door, startling bucky from his book. it's too late for anyone to need him urgently for anything, so he's almost inclined to ignore it until your voice rings through the door.
"bucky? you still up?" you're tentative, almost wary, as you ask for him.
"yeah, doll, i'm up." he sits up, ready to open the door for you when you walk in wrapped in a blanket.
"can i stay with you?" you mutter, still standing a ways away from the bed.
without saying a word, he pats the spot next to him on his bed and leans back against the headboard, leaving enough space for you to curl up next to him.
"what're you reading?" your voice is muffled by his shirt and the blankets wrapped around you.
"the hobbit. mind if i keep reading?" you shake your head, listening to the steady beating of his heart.
"it was at this point that bilbo stopped. going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. the tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it..." bucky's voice rumbles soft in his chest, gentle despite the intensity of the moments he read out to you.
It probably took John a while to realize that Yelena and Ava don’t fully mean it when they make fun of him. But he finally figures it out when he invites some of his old army buddies to the tower.
Yelena and Ava are giddy at the thought of teasing John in front of his stupid military friends- but they never get the chance. His army buddies beat them to it, and there’s nothing good-natured about the way they’re mocking him.
So they start laying into them, subtly at first, hitting them with insults twice as cutting every time they make an underhanded jab at John. Eventually it escalates into a fight, and they all run away with their tails between their legs after Yelena and Ava kick their asses without even getting up from the couch. John is furious at them until Ava tells him that they were treating him like shit and Yelena mutters that “only we get to talk to you like that.” Then suddenly John is all smiles, because he finally realizes that they bully him out of love.
John becomes insufferable after that, responding to every single insult with “you like me” in a singsong voice. Yelena and Ava bully him extra hard because of it, but they never deny it.
don't mind me, i'd just be foaming at the mouth if any of the boys threw me over their shoulder and smacked my ass. i think i'd respectfully melt if you wrote that...please
Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob throw you over their shoulder
Warning: NSFW 18+ minors DNI, just a lot of sexual tension and innuendos, some banter, the boys being dominant, physical intimidation/possessive behavior, dark romance themes, wanted to put a warning on it anyways.
Note: Writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet :)
Thunderbolts Masterlist
Bucky: It was late at night. You were halfway down the hallway with socked feet, hoodie zipped up halfway, and a will of determination to make it to the kitchen without anyone noticing. You hadn't been feeling good the last couple days and had been ordered by the doctor to be on bed rest. But you were starving.
“Where do you think you’re going?” That all too familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped in the middle of your tracks, caught red handed doing the one thing they told you not to do.
You winced and turned. “I’m just getting tea.”
"It's the middle of the night," Bucky observed, putting his hands on his hips and giving you that dad look. "You have a fever. The doctor said you need to be on bed rest."
You scoffed. “It’s just chamomile. I’ll live.”
He narrowed his eyes,; his jaw tightening with that quiet intensity that always meant you’re pushing your luck. He took one slow, deliberate step toward you.
You started to backpedal. “Don’t you dare—”
“Don’t make me do this.” Bucky drew a little closer.
You barely made it two steps down the hallway before he caught up to you. Suddenly, your feet left the ground with a startled yelp and his arm secured you firmly around your thighs. He slung you over his shoulder like it was nothing.
“Bucky! Put me down!” you protested, pounding your fists weakly against his back.
“Nope,” Bucky replied, utterly unmoved, strolling back toward your room. “You still have a fever; you're supposed to be in bed. You’re not wandering around the tower on my watch."
“You’re overreacting.” You threw the insult over your shoulder.
He chuckled, clearly amused. His hand landing a firm, warm pat on the back of your thigh which pulled another surprised yelp from you.
“No, you underestimated how stubborn I am.” Bucky corrected.
“Bucky, I swear—” You tried.
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said casually, like that wouldn’t be thinking about those words for the rest of your life. “But if you bite me, we’re gonna have a real problem.”
Entering into your bedroom, Bucky kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot hard. He didn’t speak, simply crossed the space in long purposeful strides. When Bucky came to your bed, he had no intentions of easing you down gently. He knelt one knee onto the mattress, let you slide off his shoulder into his arms and then onto the mattress with a thump that jolted your breath.
You landed on your back, looking up at him with a shocked expression. He stood over you, chest rising and falling, hair slightly disheveled from the walk.
"You done running your body into the ground now?” Bucky asked and crossed his arms over his chest, which meant he was all business.
You propped yourself up on your elbows. “You’re the one manhandling me.”
“You call that handling?” Bucky challenged. You swallowed hard.
You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already leaning in again. His one knee pressing into the mattress between your legs as he climbed toward you—slow, steady, sure. A predator with nothing to prove.
He was so close to your face that you felt the heat from his breath fanning your face. You swore he saw just how red your face was turning just from his proximity. He waited and watched you squirm under him.
His metal arm came up and the tip of his finger pinched the tip of your chin, raising it gently to get your eyes level with his. The coolness from his touch felt intoxicating. His voice dropped low and the words that came out felt laced with seduction.
"Be a good girl and stay in bed for me, will ya?"
John: You were in the middle of a mission together. Swiftly navigating towards the ramp of the quinjet, John was hot on your heels. He kept calling your name to stop you, but you ignored him. That was until he caught up with you and came to stand in front of you.
“You are not going out there like that,” John barked, standing between you and the exit.
“It’s recon! I’m not even engaging—” You tried and put your hands on your hips, more annoyed with him than anything.
“You’re limping.” John pointed to your leg which had been patched up not ten minutes ago.
You rolled your eyes. “Barely.”
“That’s enough.” John snapped, tired of listening to you.
“Since when are you in charge of my decisions?” You scoffed.
He stepped closer, radiating that particular brand of unyielding, all-american confidence that always made your pulse tick. You matched him by taking your own step back, slightly worried about this side of him.
“I don’t have to be in charge. I just have to know when you’re being a pain in the ass and stop you.” John spoke.
“John—” You held your hand out to stop him.
“I asked nicely,” John took another step forward. He was giving you one last chance. “You can come back into the jet or I can make you.”
“You wouldn’t—” You narrowed your eyes at him.
It was only then that the corners of his mouth lifted in challenge.
“You want to test that theory, sweetheart?” John wondered.
You made the mistake of lunging for the door. He caught you mid-stride and effortlessly swung your body over his shoulder. He began walking back the way you came and you protested to feeling his hard shoulder digging into your stomach.
“John Walker, put me down right now!” You hit his back once or twice, but you knew it was no use.
He let out a short laugh and tightened his grip. His hand gripped your thigh tighter as he adjusted you, almost like you were slipping—but you weren’t.
“Not until you agree to stay in the jet.” He called back to you.
“I hate you.” You pouted sourly.
“No, you don’t,” John smirked to himself, swatting your backside once to pull a small gasp of disbelief from you. “You just hate that I’m right.”
Safely back inside the quinjet, John let you slide from his shoulder and caught your waist halfway down, standing you upright, but pinning you flush against the wall. You gasped, both palms landing flat against his chest from the force.
He didn’t back away.
He loomed, crowding your space with his body, hands still on your hips. His blue eyes burned down into yours.
“You gonna listen to me now?” John asked in a low and deep tone.
Your jaw tightened along with your stubbornness. “You think throwing me around is how you win an argument?”
“No,” John seemed to smirk down at you like he was enjoying getting you riled up. “I think it’s how I keep you alive.”
You stared up at him. Your heart hammering in your chest. When you tried to push away from him, he just held you firmly and liked to watch you squirm. You only stopped the moment his palm landed flat beside your head, caging you in further and taking you by surprise. The power behind it was unmistakable.
He leaned down to get close to your face, which caused your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. He stared at your; his eyes unwavering. He was not messing around anymore and he didn't want you doing the same. So he spoke once and he spoke very clearly:
“You act up again, I will correct it. You know that, don’t you?”
Bob: You should never underestimate this man. Because you didn’t expect him to move that fast.
One moment, you were glaring at him from across the room, arms crossed, refusing to budge out of your own stubbornness. Just as you went to turn away, you felt a pair of hands grab up. And the floor tilted beneath you.
“Bob—!” you shouted, half a protest, half pure surprise.
But it was too late. He’d already hoisted you up, strong arm locked around the backs of your thighs, your upper body dangling behind him. He wasn’t rough, not quite, but you could feel the effort in the way he held you. Like he was restraining from a much more violent impulse.
“You weren’t listening,” Bob claimed. He sounded too calm, too controlled, too casual. “And I don’t really feel like arguing tonight.”
His body was warm. It always was. Like the sun had stitched itself beneath his skin. His grip was unshakable, but not cruel.
“You can’t just throw people around, Bob!” You tried to argue right back. You squirmed around in his hold, desperate to break free but it was no use.
He let out a soft, almost sad chuckle. “I can do a lot of things I’m not supposed to.”
Your heart stuttered. And you wonder if he heard it.
“I’m being nice,” Bob added and threw a look over his shoulder to address you. You pouted in defeat.
The hallway blurred past as he carried you with terrifying ease. Somewhere between being handled like glass… and being reminded that glass can still be broken.
Then Bob stopped walking.
The silence hung too long before he finally, carefully, bent down. His arms moved with precision, almost clinical, as if afraid he’d break you just by touching.
He set you down on your feet, gently this time. His hands lingering just a little too long at your waist, not for control, but with caution.
“Sorry,” Bob muttered, not meeting your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
You thought for a second, nibbling your lips gently. You could see the conflict written across his face— like he was still desperately trying to stay in control of himself and that maybe he felt something darker coiled tight beneath the surface.
You took a deep breath to ground yourself. And Bob looked up to meet your gaze.
"I didn’t say I didn’t like it."
SORRY IF THAT WASN'T SUPER GOOD. FELT LIKE I STRUGGLED WITH BOB'S ONE
Thinking about John Walker acting very much like the Army veteran that he is.
- His feelings about his time serving are complex, particularly because of how his military career ended. But old habits die hard.
- John eats dinner super fucking fast. Like, by the time you've buttered a bread roll he has already inhaled his food.
- He's from Georgia, so the man LOVES a good home-cooked southern meal... however, he keeps a few MREs in his closet just in case he gets a craving. He will tell you, and anyone who is willing to listen, that the chili mac is the best. He is also very passionate about the tiny Tabasco sauce bottles that come with them.
- He uses acronyms, so many acronyms. Still refers to exercise/training as PT. Has referred to the kitchen as the DFAC.
- Speaking of PT. He still trains/exercises in his PT uniform. Black "Ranger" t-shirt and the tiniest, sluttiest little shorts. God bless America. SEE HERE for shorts.
- He sings marching cadences. Funny ones. Sad ones. Irreverent ones. Like "My Girl's a Vegetable". "Blood on The Risers". "I Left My Home".
- He is aggressively foul-mouthed. He uses the word "fuck" in his sentences like it's a comma. He actually tried to clean up his language for PR purposes, but failed miserably.
- He also uses the most hilarious phrases that he acquired during his time serving. For example, when they tried to teach Bob how to properly use a handgun, Bob immediately put his finger on the trigger... and John yelled "Get your goddamn booger hooks off of the bang bang switch unless you're ready to kill!"
john walker is my fave but i couldn't figure out why then i realized. hes the only one constantly scorned. not only that, but he's the only one viewed as a dumber version of who he is. not only that, but he's the only one who compensates for his self esteem issues with exaggerated self confidence that he doesnt really feel. he's john walker, US Agent, ex-captain america, the biggest, the baddest, the "leader", the soldier, and no one sees him as a person. they see him as a worker and a fighter and nothing else. he's the self appointed jerk, the narcissist, the one who'd save himself above others. but in reality he would fight the fucking world for his family (including the thunderbolts btw). he would take a bullet for any of them - and there's REAL proof for this. during the fight with sentry? he jumps in front of bucky to stop him from getting hurt. he turns the attention of yelena's anger onto himself instead of letting alexei take the heat. he knocked out bob's father. he is constantly the last one out of the door. he is always the soldier, america's bravest - he doesn't know how to get out of that personality now that it killed everything he held close. lemar? killed him. his family? severed the connection. he is so terrified of losing his new family. oh my baby
He was the one you'd call when you wanted someone trustworthy to water your plants and watch your house over vacation. He was stacked in volunteer hours at the soup kitchen, and sometimes just dropped by the local pet shop to play with the dogs and cats because he didn't want them to feel alone (which ended up with him getting very attached and naming them all and then also getting his first job... it's a long story but one John loves to tell :)
But war and life, like it does for everyone, changed him.
On the outside, he was rough around the edges. Rugged and jaded, not that sweet kid knocking on your door offering to mow your lawn.
But the people that knew John, and I mean, really knew him? Know that sweet guy is still in there.
john sucking bob’s dick! while reader makes out with bob and talks him through it, leaves hickies on his neck, plays with his nipples etc etc. i’m obsessed with their dynamic. if you don’t write poly feel free to delete :)
18+ MDNI
i’m all here for poly do not fret! especially poly!sentryagent <3 i do apologise this isn’t the best,it was kinda rushed!
John had gone down on a few guys in his time,I mean growing up in the south it wasn’t something he advertised but of course,like many other guys in his town,he experimented. most of the time it was with his friends after a raging party had died down,couples retiring to empty bedrooms and drunk college kids stumbling into ubers,when there was that thick palatable feeling of lust in the air that nobody in his friend group could deny. it was always casual,just friends helping friends out, something that was never really talked about when the hangovers cleared up but this,this could never be casual.
from the moment he sank down in between Bobs legs he knew there was no going back,the way every moan and whimper from the man twitching underneath him sent his own chest puffing up with what? pride? he didn’t know,all he knew was that he was addicted. addicted to the way the smaller man gulped every time John took him all the way into his mouth,that burning stretch settling into the corners of his lips as he tried to accommodate all of Bobs length,how his own cock sat heavy and untouched in his boxers leaking precum onto the flimsy material. it was enough to send his head spinning on its own,the heaviness of Bobs cock on his tongue,the mixture of spit and precum pooling onto the base of Bobs dick,sticking to the mound of hair that grew there,but you,oh you,took it to the next level,voice steady and calm whispering sweet nothings to Bob as he fell apart. John could see how your words were affecting Bob, each little pet name falling from your lips,each “you’re doing sooo good for us baby” sending him bucking into the warmth of Johns mouth and sending a pool of drool down the super soldiers bearded chin. the way you laid there,fully clothed,perched beside Bob like both the devil and angel on his shoulder, wandering hands dancing across his chest,a sight to behold and it sent John on a mission. he took it upon himself to start kneading Bobs milky thighs,something he’d seen you do countless times,something that always had Bob chirping out like a caged bird,singing out those cute drawn out “oh-oh-oohhh’’s you adored so much.
Bob had always been vocal in the bedroom but this was something else,every time you and John teamed up to torment the poor guy it was like something in him broke,like he didn’t care if the whole world heard the guttural sounds you were both tearing from him. he had given up control,laid there,head thrashing from side to side,eyes squeezed shut and hands grasping the bedsheets as John sucked on his balls and your mouth delicately pulled hickies to the forefront of the soft skin of his shoulders. it was like he was in the twilight zone,how could his body feel this good,how could time have any meaning when your fingers are pulling at his sensitive nipples like this,how could he literally feel the love radiate of you when you whisper that “let go for me baby” that he didn’t even know he was waiting to hear.
