Duel wielding Cotl and Marvel

It's only small drabble coz honestly I had nothing

Summary: Mister Sinister loves playing with Morph

Word Count:

Tags: drabble, really short, torture

Morph didn't know how long he had been with Mister Sinister. He didn't know how long it had been since the X-Men left him for dead.

But what he did know is that he was being stripped away piece by piece as Sinister twisted his pain and abandonment into hatred.

But not only that Sinister liked to play with his muses. Toy with them like dolls.

He would make Morph change and warp himself time and again, even past his limit well into exhaustion. He threatened and hurt Morph until he complied.

His second natural skin starting to fade and degrade from the stress. And Mister Sinister would simply watch. Watch as he broke Morph down

Watched as he forced Morph to be something he wasn't even thought he could be anyone.

He liked seeing Morphs sucken eyes, seeing the anger concealed within them. Seeing the pain and the fear and desperation. Seeing the plea in his eyes to just be left free. Despite his anger towards the X-Men he always called for them. Always hoped Logan would come. But they never did.

He screamed and cried and begged but Sinsiter simply laughed.

Repeating over and over the words

"You so much prettier this way" taking sick satisfaction from watching Morphs skin crawl over his flesh. The way it sank and twisted and folded upon his command and under his hands.

If it came to it he wasn't afraid to force Morph to change. He had developed a chemical that forced a genetic mutation to activate. And Morph was the prime test subject. Kicking his mutation into over drive in a way that pushed his body to the breaking point

He was so much prettier this way

He was so much prettier this way

Just a one shot because I am going to do a full-length series for Bucky at some point and I have way to many more prompts to do

Summary: "I'm not the only Winter Soldier"

Word Count: 1k+

Tags: multiple whumpee, medical abuse, chemical torture, experimentation, trauma, nightmares, memories

"Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier"

He told Steve that when they had saved him from Zemo.

But it wasn't just him and the five others. Before that, before everything. Before the war had even ended, there had been others. Three more alongside him after he was retaken in Austria.

He remembers their faces so vividly, they haunted his waking moments and interrupted his nightmares, like everyone he's ever known. Puncturing the memories with horrible sounds and sights that didn't make sense but that he remembered too well.

After he had been retaken in Austria, they had given him back his arm and they had begun the tests on him. Over and over again using him like a pin cushion taking blood from his body and putting any number of chemicals into his system.

And for so long he was alone, alone and afraid and trapped.

Until he wasn't, and then he wished he was

There was one experiment conducted on him and the others. That's where he had met them

He had been taken to a different lab than the one he was graced with every day. It was bigger, clearer and with more benches. This one however had upright restrain tables. Bucky was first, he hadn't noticed the line of other people behind him until he had been turned around and man handled into the restraints.

He watched with limited movment as the same thing was done to them. There was a girl, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. She was shorter than he was and had a hard set to her jaw. Unlike him she was wearing a barely modest top that they had supplied to her.

The next was a man who looked older than him, his hair was black and matted in places, he had grey eyes, sunken eyes. Bucky guessed he had fought harder than he had or been in the war longer. Either way, he looked like he was dancing with death

And the last man looked like a boy, smaller than Steve had been before the serum. He was harder to see as he was further away but Bucky thinks he had his head shaved. Other than that, he couldn't make out any features except for the tattoo on his arm.

The three of them were all attached to vital monitors, the girl to his left trying to bite her doctor against the restraints but not being able to do any damage.

She mustn't have been here that long

The four of them sat in the room, the buzzing of the machines all around them being the only sound that filled the room.

Bucky didn't do anything but wait, he didn't speculate, didn't bother to try and talk to the others. He simply waited, to tired and to broken to use what energy he had left. At some point he believed he would run out of energy and his body would simply give out from the stress but he didn't hope to hard for that. He was a fighter at heart, but his spirit was being broken over and over again every day. And sometimes he wondered if there was really any fight left.

And when the wait was over, the machines whirred louder, as the monitor that was watching his heart rate, and the heart rate of others spiked. You could hear it in the shrill beeping as the doctors approached them all holding obnoxiously large syringes. Bucky's eyes widened as fear flooded his gut, like someone had poured ice water over his body sending shivers down every limb.

He winced when the jab came and squirmed when he felt the liquid entering his bloodstream. The girl beside him snarled at the doctor and he backed away quickly.

The little boy at the other end of the hall began to cry faintly, the soft sound reaching him even through the thunderous beeping.

Bucky looked around the room as he waited for something to happen, he knew it was coming. The way his heart thrummed in his chest and the way his veins began to pop in his skin. He frantically looked around the room as if it would hold the answers

And then finally the screaming came. It came from the little boy first. His sobs growing louder and louder as whatever they had given him started to work. He writhed around and banged against the metal of the table, he could hear the way his head hit the metal as he thrashed arond.

Next was the woman, who tried to lunge forward and break the restraints, who was grunting and groaning and fighting with all her energy. Her teeth were clenched and she hissed at the doctor's watching them from the other side of the room. Her lips were curled back and her yellow teeth were showing in a display of aggression. If she were an animal, he would have called her a hyena. Like the ones he had seen in his school textbook.

Next was the other man, who kicked more than he struggled, slamming his foot into the platform they were standing on, banging against the metal with a force that he knew would leave dents after a few attempts.

And finally it was his turn. Underneath his skin he felt like someone was running a fire poker along the course of his veins. The blood inside boiling as the chemical worked it's magic. He arched his back against the restraints, leaning forward as his insides began to light up, a fire raging uncontrolled inside of him that made his body ache and burn. Make his skin crawl and his mind swim. He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain reaching higher and higher levels as his tolerance sunk lower and lower and soon, he was screaming too. His mouth opened in a pained shout as he spat. His body sweating and spit building up in his mouth as it tried to overcompensate for the immense heat.

He screamed and screamed and screamed and so did the others, a cocphany of horrible sounds that echoed pain and suffering into the very walls of this base. He imagined people before him feeling this same pain.

Only the walls remembered those sounds, only the walls had traces of what pain had occurred here, and just like the doctors around them they didn't care. Because the walls were his cage, and they aided in his suffering as much as any other person here.

Summary: Bucky has been taken back by HYDRA despite Steve's attempt to save him. He's been lost. Again

Word Count: 1.3k+

Tags: body mutilation, trauma, torture, PTSD, panic attacks, whump

Bucky sat in his cell in the HYDRA base. He had been moved for the 7th time this...he didn't know how long. He guessed about a month, but with the snow cascading across the armored windows of the trucks he was transported in it was too hard to tell. He had never seen anything other than Brooklyn skies.

The only other thing he had seen besides the desolate icy roads and off grey cement of his room was the sterile white and silver lab.

He didn't know what was worse, the silence in his room as the chill crept in through the walls or the sound of doctors clamouring over him as they fiddled with the tubes sticking out of his body.

He was in the lab currently. He was lying on the table, they had lessened his restraints, now only down to his anckles and handcuffs that kept his hands together. He didn't know if was the lack of sleep or the copious amounts of sedatives they kept pumping into his blood stream but he didn't have the energy to fight.

He laid there, no shirt on and only a small pair of examiners shorts on, his back and legs pressed to the cold metal. Even his body heat wouldn't keep that material warm in this frozen tundra they had taken him to.

He laid there waiting, he could hear to doctors speaking in a foreign language he didn't understand. Probably German, and perhaps Russian? He didn't know, but he silently wished he could understand them.

Maybe that way he could have some time to prepare.

No not prepare he wasn't going to let them do whatever he wanted with him. He wanted to know so he could fight.

He wanted to fight!

But he was so, tired.

His eyes fluttered as his body moved up and down as he breathed. He was having a hard time staying awake but he couldn't sleep. He needed to be alert, even if what came next was painful, he needed to know what they were doing to him.

He watched as the doctors finished examining some papers and what he thought was a set of blueprints. And they began working on various things around the room. Another set of doctors came over to him and they sat him up. Removing the restraints from his anckles and holding him by the arms as they walked him down the corridor connected to the room.

As he entered the next room he realised it must've been on the other side of the window that was in the original lab. He could faintly see the doctor with the spectacles standing at the window.

He turned his head back to where they were leading him, and he felt his knees hit hard concrete and heard a noise that sounded like a childs sobbing.

The doctors' hands holding him anymore and that's when he had realised he had collapsed. The room had been taken too was just like the one from the lab in Azzano.

The one with the machine that-

But he couldn't finish the thought as horrible flashes of the weeks behind enemy lines, before Steve had saved him, had consumed him. The memories came in horribly vivd waves that crashed down on him like a stormy sea. Pulling him under and pushing his head down, refusing to let him find respite with his head above the waves. Over and over again the waves came pulling his legs away and dragging him into its torrential current

He wrapped his hands around his head as the memories perforated his ears. The sound of his own screaming bouncing off the walls and echoing back into his mind, the horrible, twisted sounds that left his throat. The pathetic pleas he remembered falling from his lips like a last prayer.

Like a desperete cry to a god he realised had abandoned him

He clutched at his face with his barehands as if he could pull whatever was holding onto him away. Take whatever was wrapped around his mind and tear it to pieces. But he couldn't.

Instead he looked at the metal in place of his arm and screamed at it. Looking at the way the fingers moved like they were his own, the way the arm obeyed, but he knew he didn't control it. It was HYDRA's it was their creation, their project. He had become one of their latest sick and twisted wepons.

He reached around, his two cuffed hands moving together, to his shoulder where he could feel the metal connecting to what was left of his flesh and he tugged.

He had found out through the fall that the experiments back in Azzano had strengthened him somehow. He was able to break and punch and pull things with a force he'd never even seen the strongest man match.

And right now all of that strength was flooding into his hands in an effort to tear away the metal. Like it was some parasite eating away at his skin and taking away all he had left. It was a curse, a reminder and a nightmare all at once.

"I don't want it!" he screamed to himself

"I don't want it! I can't take this anymore!" he screamed again and again, shouting his pain into the void.

Because even amongst all of the scientists none of them cared. None of them batted an eye at his pain.

They relished in it and he knew that. He knew he was nothing more than a Guinea Pig for them to play with, pulling him apart and putting him back toghether all over again and merely hoping he wouldn't break.

He switched between thrashing around and digging his chipped and dirty nails into his own flesh. Lacerating the skin and pulling disgusting chunks of meat and skin from his body. He pulled at the metal finally pulling away a small strip of the mouldable material until he could dig his fingers into the cybernetics and rip away the wires.

He pulled out more metal and screws and wires and chips and anything his hands would grab onto, until a hand took his own and forced it away, he looked up at them. His vision blurry.

Was he crying? When had that started

"No get off me, I don't want to do this anymore. I can't take it" he pleaded, his voice raising and lowering at inappropriate moments. His voice ragged and interrupted with sobs.

But even as he pleaded he sunk into himself. Dropping his head to his chest to hide his face. Some of the longer strands of his hair, which he usually would have cut a week ago, fell into his eyes and got tangled in the water in his eyelashes.

He sat there and sobbed as he felt two rough, calloused hands reach under his shoulders and lift him up.

They marched him over the the machine, he legs dragging behind him on the floor. His toe nails scraping the floor as he went.

They shoved him down and held him there whilst the doctors worked hurriedly around him. His head hit the back of the head rest with a hard clunck. The metal making pain bloom across his skull. His arm was forced into a restraining and the metal appendage was placed against something that magnetised with the machine as it powered up.

His whole body was pulled back and the damage he had done to the metal pulled on his bleeding skin. He winced and sobbed again as it pulled on his flesh.

The doctors began jamming wires and IV drips and machines into his arms, torso and even neck. The needles the size of straws poked out of him. The sight of them sticking from his body made him feel dizzy with sickness and he wanted to vomit.

He felt nauseous, tired, pathetic and trapped. Like a fox in a farmers snare. He hadn't even been stealing the chicken but he was now victim to this mechanism and the farmer was coming for him. Ready to strike him down with a single shell from his shotgun.

Before his eyes fell shut against he will he desperately looked at one of the doctors. Hoping to find a hint of humanity behind their eyes

He found none

Logan and Kurt were no strangers to bumbs and scrapes. They had a fair share of injuries over their time. From small bruises to lacerations and broken bones.

Such injuries were never welcome feelings.

However there was one exception to the rule between the two of them. And that was biting.

Logan and Kurt both shared the affinity for biting as a display of affection and both of them defiently had mating and marking kinks.

Call it a trend within the more animalistic mutant community but biting was something that can naturally to the two.

Both of them having animal characteristics, Logan more so than Kurt, meant that they both had their feral sides. And when they were alone they weren't ashamed to show it.

Kurt didn't feel like he had to over compensate for not looking human and Logan didn't have to worry about anyone fearing him for just being himself.

They were born like this. And people expected them to change. They had to so they could still keep some of their humanity and dignity.

But when it was just the two of them and the open night sky, none of that mattered.

Logan had been working on up keep of a cabin on some land not to far from the school. Xavier owed him a favour and he used some of his fundings from the years he had been alive to buy these acres for Logan.

Him and Kurt went here often. A place to get away. To be themselves and let the animal inside them roam free.

And the perks of a cabin in the woods meant nobody would disturb them.

They were currently sitting chests prest together. Logan resting back on the couch with Kurt facing him in his lap. His arms around his neck as their lips were pressed together in a kiss.

Logan loved the way Kurt's fur felt on his skin. And Kurt liked that Logan had a considerable amount of hair on him as well. Mostly his chest hair, given the opportunity he will bury his face into Logan's chest, no hesitation.

The two of them were holding on tightly to each other. Enjoying this moment in peace. A moment that was heating up the room around them and the space between them.

Kurt always smelt clean. Not the sterile clean Logan knew of labs but the way clean linen smelt fresh out of the drier. He had admitted that to Kurt only once. When he was as close to drunk as he could possibly get he admitted that to Kurt whilst nuzzling his neck.

Kurt had kept that information like a trophy in the forefront of his mind since then. Thinking about it whenever him and Logan got close.

Logan smelt like whiskey and cigars. But he also smelt like leather. Like the old leather of a worn pick up truck. The smell that could be preserved if taken care of despite showing age.

Kurt pulled away from Logan's mouth. His lip got stuck on his own as he did. He put one of his fingers on Logan's bottom lip and played with it momentarily before placing his head in the crook of Logan's neck, nuzzling the soft skin littered with hairs here and there. The strong contour of his collarbone and shoulder looked so good to Kurt. He kept running his face along it before Logan chucked and he looked at him. Eyes wide in question.

Was ist so lustig, meine Liebe? Kurt says in German.

He speaks almost exclusively German with Logan. He taught Logan all he needed to know so they could speak freely and Logan had even picked up some more language along the way. Being able to read and understand more complex German phrasing.

"I know what you want. So go on. Show me what you can do"

It was always a challenge between the two of them. Logan's healing factor meant Kurt didn't get the satisfaction of leaving a mark. Didn't mean he didn't try his hardest.

Kurt smirked, his fangs showing as he did so. Glinting in the dim light of the fire crackling by their feet.

His tail swished around in excitement at Logan's feet. Repeatedly knocking into his legs.

Kurt inhaled, his nose so close to Logan's body that he could breath in every scent. Every bit of musk Logan radiated. It was so lovely.

Kurt kissed the spot he was going to bite first before he opened his mouth and bit down. Lightly at first. Working his way up to bigger bites.

The first bite was less of a bite and more of a hickey with a small nip. The small red patch of surface blood sank back down to it's proper place too quickly. Kurt watched as it faded almost instantly back the tan colour of Logan's skin.

The next bite held more teeth. This time indents were left where Kurt's mouth had been but they too disappeared rapidly.

Kurt continued to move his mouth over the tender flesh that joined Logan's head to the rest of his body.

Slowly the bites become more intense and he could hear Logan grunting and groaning with each bite. Squirming slightly from the pain.

He liked it though. He liked the idea of Kurt marking him up. Even if it wasn't permanent.

He liked the way the pain spiralled over his skin, he liked the way Kurt's fangs felt in his flesh. He could feel it very vividly.

Kurt took another bite this time and he felt in his mouth as he drew blood. The taste of Logan's metallic blood on his tongue.

He lapped over the bleeding marks as they slowly closed up. He bit Logan over and over again, even making his way down Logan's arm to his shoulder and bicep. He watched as his small pointed teeth left a trail in their wake.

He bit Logan as many times as he could before the marka closed up, almost frantic to see how many he could manage before Logan's healing factor beat him to the punch.

Logan was covered in small blood stains and purple splotches that soon healed over.

Kurt bit him a final time and sat back in Logan's lap. Watching as the small bruises and puncture marks slowly healed over.

He revealed in the sight but pouted slightly as Logan's body healed over the bites and bruises as if to spite him.

Logan chuckled. Watching Kurt's eyes flick from one place to another over his body as the wounds healed. The blood still staining his torso.

Logan placed his hands on Kurt's hips and span him around. Pushing him over onto the couch so Logan was hovering over him and Kurt was tucked up underneath him.

"Du bist dran, Elf" he said huskily as he protracted his claws and tore off Kurt's shirt. He didn't like it that much anyways

Logan lent down and sunk his own sharpened canines in the soft flesh of Kurt's shoulder. He was less gentle than Kurt was but Kurt didn't mind. Kurt moaned

He liked how serious Logan could be when he had a task to complete and Kurt was happy to be Logan's project.

He giggled and moaned as Logan licked his skin. Sometimes sucking on the wounds before and after biting them again sending electric pain through his body.

He tingled all over and even though he was in small amounts of pain he couldn't help but playfully giggle and tease Logan.

Logan took his time making sure every available plane of Kurt's body was thoroughly ravished. He wanted to make Kurt squirm to make his giggle and moan. He wanted Kurt to sing his praise from the pleasure he was giving him.

He lapped at the blood to spurted into his mouth from the wounds. Sucking until the blood stopped coming.

Maybe he was an animal at heart but so was Kurt. And they relished in the feeling of being able to let go around each other.

Summary: Bucky promised to follow Steve to the end of the line. And instead he found himself over enemy lines. With no escape in sight

Word Count: 1k+

Tags: non consensual body modification, HYDRA, expanding on a canon scene, blood, graphic depictions, limb loss

Bucky was screaming in pain. Feeling as the air tore through his throat as he did so. The familiar feeling of crying out for help with no response.

He was being taken somewhere. He had been pulled from the debris and snow of the Austrian Alps where he had plunged into the ravine but instead of being whisked away to safety he was taken deeper into the clutches of the enemy. Again.

He had been restrained. He felt himself thrashing around with a sever lack of weight his left side. He didn't stop to figure out why he just fought. Kicked and screamed and clawed and fought until he couldn't. He silently begged for some way out to appear but there wasn't one.

He had been strapped down to a sterile bench when he had awoken whilst being taken from the truck.

He had his ankles locked into a set of medical belts and his right arm had been handcuffed to the hand rail along with his chest and neck. He couldn't move but still he fought.

And he realised after a while that something was wrong. He was light headed. More so than when he had hit the ground.

Finally looking to his left he saw why. His whole left arm was missing, instead all that was left was a bloody and broken stump with bone and blood being all that was left.

That's when the real screaming had begun.

Not caring whether he lived or died only hoping to be free of the scientist he desperately fought against the restraints. But even with whatever experimentation had kept him alive in the fall was still not strong enough for him to break away from this.

One of the doctors ran over and jabbed a needle into his arm and he screamed again. The long thin metal piercing something too deeply in his leg.

"GET OFF ME" he yelled. His voice cracking on the last word as his body began to sink and his mind slipped away.

No.

No no no what had they done to him

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't

And then it all went dark.

When he woke up again. He was drowsy and delirious. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. As he blinked and tried to focus in the stark white light shining in on his face he saw the doctors again. He tried to fight but his body was limp and mostly numb. He felt heavy and he felt restrained. Was it more than before? He didn't know.

But the one thing he did feel was the blinding pain in his arm and the buzzing of a drill in his left ear

"No, what are you doing to me!" he whined softly. His tongue refusing to co operate with him. He felt groggy the same way you did when you woke up from a nap. Except this was 10 times worse and more nightmarish.

"Ah Sargent Barnes" a voice called to him dimly. It echoed strangely from where he was laying. But he could see the face of a man with spectacles and lines in his face.

Bucky regaining some feeling in his body bucked his hips. Trying to release himself one more but it was merely more than a futile attempt. More doctors held him down and he was immobile again. He shook his head back and forth trying to get his neck free. Or to hurt a doctor or something. Anything.

"The procedure has already started"

"No stop it. Get awAY FROM ME" he screamed again his voice even more hoarse than before.

He hears a sigh before another doctor plunged a needle into his flesh again and the world slipped away from him.

He managed a weak 'please no' before he slipped completely.

When he woke up his head was raised. His neck was unstrained and he wasn't in pain. He ached all over but it was better then it had been.

He looked around there were still doctors in the room. But none of them were looking at him.

Having felt the weight return to his arm he held it up.

But how? He didn't have one

And that was true, not made of flesh and blood but metal and mechanics instead.

He looked at it. Curled his fingers into a fist and flexed them. He stared in awestruck fear at the device that looked like his arm.

What in God's name was this technology. This was nothing like he had seen. Not even at the Future Expo

One of the doctors walked over to him and he watched. His eyes still half closed as he came out of whatever chemical induced state he had been in.

The doctor was watching him move his hand, he had a clipboard and pen in his own.

He was smiling.

The bastard was smiling.

Internally praising himself over a job well done.

Bucky would show him. Show him what he could do with this Doctors accomplishment

He took the Doctor by the neck and started squeezing. He tried to sit up but brighter spots and a dark shadow clouded his vision.

He listened to the doctor splutter before he went silent. Bucky dropped him to the ground, the clipboard clustering in the side of his table.

Bucky tried to stand but was forced back into the cold steel of the table. Just as another doctor came at him with a third needle and jammed it into his neck.

He cried out but once more began to slip away.

What had they done to him. Why had he been taken. Why wasn't he dead? He wished he was. He wished he was anywhere but here. Even if that meant hell.

Because that's where he was going right. He had a hand to play in this horrible night mare that had been the past year. There was no way he would grace the gate of heaven.

God couldn't possibly love him now. Instead he would be taken to the warm embrace of hell

If only he would die

I love him so much why do I do this to him

Summary: HYDRA had sunk its claws into every price of the new world Bucky was growing accustomed too. Even into the lives of his new family.

Word Count: 705

Tags: shared trauma, wholesome, fluffy, less whump more fluffy, nightmares

It was nights like these where Bucky would wake up sweating. Water running off his back and dripping from his brow onto his lashes. The way tears would stain his face and his bottom lip would tremble. The way his hand would shake. Just his flesh one. His metal one wasn't made for such weakness.

His blankets would be torn. He would have to ask Tony for a new set.

And he wouldn't be able to sleep again. He didn't want to.

He didn't want to face what was there every time he closed his eyes.

So he got up, grabbed whatever was closest and threw it on before heading to the roof for some fresh air and privacy.

Except instead he found the red headed ex secret agent. Natasha Romanoff. He had met her before. He remembered her.

He felt like turning around and leaving. She seemed comfortable in the silence and he still wasn't sure if he was welcome. Having almost killed her. Twice.

But she saw him, she passed for a moment and he froze. His hands in his pockets as they started at each other in the dark.

Until she beckoned him over. Moving her hand in a forward motion before patting it on the concrete next to her. She was sitting with her knees tucked to her chest and he head resting a top them.

He sat down. Laying his legs over the edge of the building and leaning back on his hands.

He didn't look at her, simply at the forest Stark owned and the twinkling stars littering the horizon above the tree line.

The cold air was tough in his lungs but he reveled in the freshness of it. The cold of nature and night time. Not lab chambers and frozen metallic air.

"You get the dreams too Barnes?" Natasha said breaking the silence.

"Yeah" he admited

"They don't ever go away do they? Not matter how many wrongs you right. Doesn't take away what you did"

He breathed deeply listening to her calm voice. Though what she was saying was true. Her somber and soft voice drowned out the bad thoughts creeping their black tendrils of dread into his mind.

"It's all in the past. But that past is too recent. Too real. Too memorable" she continued

"Like a life you could never have imagined living but had to live anyway" he finished for her

"Like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from"

She hummed in agreeance.

And the two sat there. Staring at the night sky until day break. Basking in the dim glow of the stars and the pleasantness if each other's company

"I'm sorry for trying to kill you" Bucky says bluntly

"I'm sorry for not sticking by you against Stark. He's a douchbag"

"No hard feelings then"

She shook her head. A small smile on her lips. Her teeth just peeking out

"You aren't so bad Barnes. I get what Steve sees in you"

Now it was Bucky's turn to smile. If not for Steve he never woild have make it here. He would never have left HYDRAs clutches and he would have never been given to the Wakandan's so they could help him.

He would have still be trapped

And he believe Natasha might have been too

Even years after the wars HYDRAs still had its filthy hands in every organisation over the world. They had ruined more lived. Even if Steve and all the history books told him they'd one the war.

The scars from every battle said other wise.

And even thought Natasha never lived to see the war. He could tell she had seen a great deal of battles

And the compassion she still had through all of it was commendable. He respected her.

And Natasha revered Bucky. Knowing it took more than just being a soldier to survive all he had. To learn to live again after feeling like you were nothing but a husk for so long. She couldn't help but admire his strength.

Silent the two of them marveled at the strength and bravery of the other as they waited for the sun to rise and their new families to start wondering where they are.

Part of head canon AU for a domestic and peaceful Avengers. More coming soon.

Summary: An AU where Steve goes and finds Bucky. The results are no less heart breaking

Word Count: 1.9k+

Tags: Dismemberment, trauma, alternate universe, blood, hospital, memories, gore

Steve felt like everything inside of him had been sucked out. That his whole body had been dragged under the speeding train.

He knew it hadn't. He could still feel the cold metal underneath his gloves. He could still feel the harsh winds on his face. He could feel the solid metal underneath his feet.

But it doesn't mean anything, because his entire world, the person he had held closest to his heart had just been ripped away from him.

He heard rather than saw, the wind whipping the snow in his face and it was making his eyes water. Instead he heard the cry of fear as the bar Bucky had been holding onto gave way.

He felt the way his heart sank as Bucky fell away from him.

This couldn't be happening.

The part of his brain that wanted to sink to his knees was pushed away, buried as his logical brain took over knowing he needed to complete the mission. He pulled himself back inside the car, refusing to process what had just happened.

He made his way to the front of the car where Arnim Zola had been cornered by Gabe, a gun trained on him and the driver. They were taking the two of them to the meeting point where Colonel Philips and the rest of the 107th would be waiting for them.

After they get back to the camp Steve rushes to Colonel Philips leaving the Howling Commandos by their truck

"Good job out there Rogers, I had my doubts but your team pulled through" The Colonel looked around briefly. "I don't see Sargent Barnes"

"Sir, Bucky fell. We need to go look for him. It's about six miles down from here. I need to take my team to look for him"

"Rogers, we just bagged Zola I can't allow-"

"If he's alive do we really want him in enemy hands?" Steve was trying to play into the Colonel's reasoning and hoped that the idea that Bucky could give away critical intelligence would be enough to convince him. He knew Bucky would never, but Colonel Philips didn't.

The Colonel paused and sighed deeply. Looking like he wanted to say no, but there was an uncharacteristic softness around his eyes when he looked at Steve

"You and the rest of your team take the winter tank. You get an hour, get down there and get back. With or without Barnes"

Steve almost felt like crying, all of his buried feelings coming back in a sudden overwhelming surge. He had to move now, he couldn't stand the thought of Bucky, laying in the snow in whatever condition he was in. Alive or dead he was going to bring him home. Back to his mother and back to Becca.

He went back to the truck where the rest of his Howling Commandos were waiting. They were all staring at their boots forlornly. Gabe had told them about Bucky.

Marching past them at high speed towards where the tanks were stationed he called to them "Follow me"

Instantly they marched into the step with him, their guns now slung over their backs from where they were resting on the hood of the car.

Dugan's hands where curled into fists

"Where are we headed Captain?"

"Back, were going to find Bucky"

The group rushed to the tank and took off, heading back out of the camp and down the mountain. Heading for the ravine where Bucky fell.

As they were going Falsworth calculated the approximate search distance from where Bucky fell to where he could have landed. Calculating in wind, landing place and slope, potential debris intervention and if he was alive how far he realistically would have been able to travel on his own.

That gave them a 2.4 square miles for a search radius

They made their way back to the ravine and Steve's heart sped up, knowing that soon he would have an answer to his bruning question.

Would he be fine Bucky warm or cold?

They stopped the tank and walked the last 3 miles to reach the edge of the radius and spread out. Walking in a line down the ravine. One person on either side of a small half frozen lake. Steve took point, walking several paces ahead of the rest. Though he walked slow, his head constantly on a swivel, there was steadfast determination in each step.

He walked, his face searching the snow and the trees that dotted the ravine. He didn't care that his teeth were chattering and he couldn't feel his nose or his fingers. He had to keep looking until his hour was up.

He walked until he heard Dugan call out. He was crouched near the edge of the edge of the forest.

Steve sprinted, his leg carrying him across the ravine in 7 seconds flat.

The others joined him quickly and here they all saw what Dugan had found.

Bucky was lying on his back. Blood covering his face, a bruise on his eye and a bad gash on the right side of his head. He had blood in his teeth, the white turned stained with the fluid. His breathing was disjointed, full of spluttering and coughing. He didn't take a full breath in, the only indication he was actually breathing was the way his chest jumped. His exposed skin was slowly turning purple and blue. His lips, nose and holes in his gloves indicating as such.

But as Steve let his eyes rake over Bucky's body he realised why Jim had been looking away.

The arm of his vest had been torn away and it was ripped and fraying. The place where his arm should have been was pouring blood, what should have been his bone was stained red. It was snapped, fractured as it stuck out of him and the blood was everywhere.

His arm was laying a few feet away in the tree line. Steve followed the trail of blood connecting the two and he felt like collapsing

There was too much of it, and it just kept coming. He didn't understand how there was so much. The way it stained the dead twigs and snow underneath him. The way it pooled and ran like a river of death. It's warm and sticky texture melting away the snow and carving a trail down the slope to the frozen water below.

A younger Steve would have vomited at the sight of all the blood, his stomach felt queasy but he held up and instead he bent down scooping Bucky up in his arms.

Bucky groaned and cried out in pain. He hoped to God it wasn't irreparable back injury

"Don't move. You'll be ok" Steve said desperately looking down at Bucky in his arms.

It was strange. Bucky had always been the one to carry him. He had always been bigger. Stronger. But he somehow seemed too small in Steve's hands.

Without hesitating the group went back to the tank. Steve holding Bucky as close to his chest as possible. He had peeled back the top of his suit. Taking off his undershirt as he walked with Bucky in one hand. Taking the shirt and using it to stanch the bleeding until they could get back to the supplies in the tank.

Bucky's eyes were open but he couldn't see anything. He could feel movement and something holding onto him. But none of it was making sense inside of his head. The moving sky and the lack of cold snow under him. The muffled voice he knew were shouting but still couldn't hear were filling his ears amongst the ringing inside his head.

His head ached, his back aches, his arm felt like it was on fire and his face felt swollen.

It was all he could feel. His own body was so alive with pain of all kinds in all places. He wanted to cry out but couldn't manage more than a choked gurgle.

He felt whatever was gripping him tightly grip even tighter. Then he was being raised, his eyes seeing the sky come closer. And then it sunk away and he was taken into darkness, a small yellow light being the only source for him to see. Everything was fuzzy and the dim light made it hard for him to focus on anything.

He felt fear, immeasurable fear but all he could do was lay there. He thought of something else, searching his aching head for anything that wasn't the feelings coursing through him.

He thought of Steve. His short straw coloured hair and the way he always made sure to brush it flat and slick it still with gel in the mornings. A habit he's had since childhood.

Or the way he was before the serum, the small scrawny boy he had protected all throughout school. The boy who was too stupid to run away from a fight even though he never won.

He thought about how Steve was always sick. Catching whatever was going around at the time.

He thought about the time he had gotten sick and how Steve had refused to leave his side. The way Bucky would cough and Steve would hand him a glass of water or rush to get him food. The way Steve would sit and read him the Hobbit over and over again because he couldn't sit up long enough to actually get through a page.

He thought of Steve until everything went dark and everything disappeared.

Steve waited, he waited for a whole week by Bucky's side. They had gotten back to the camp and the field Doctors had spared as many men as they could to staunch the blood. Realising they didn't have the proper materials they needed to properly cauterize a wound of this size they took him in one of the medic cars and to the closest Austrian hospital. Steve of course was with them the whole way. The only time he wasn't allowed in was during surgery where they cauterised the wound. Howard had seen what had happened and had rushed off to a lab he owned in Austria and began working on...something.

Steve applauded Howard's brilliance but he had no clue how Howard would A) have have any machine that would help and B) create a machine that would save Bucky's life in time.

So Steve waited. Watching as the hands ticked by on the clock until a nurse came and addressed him. She told him that they were able to stop the bleeding and create a makeshift patch until Mr Stark got here.

He was stable, but he wouldn't wake up for a while.

Steve nodded and thanked her.

She lead him to the room Bucky was resting in. He was laying out on the white linens his face was just as white. They had him connected to an IV drip and a blood bag.

Steve reached and touched it tenderly. He didn't know why his hand stretched for the plastic. Possibly the check if it was real, he needed to know that Bucky would survive. That Bucky wouldn't just slip away and this would all be some horrible dream.

If it was a dream Bucky might still be alive and healthy. But he didn't think so. He'd had nightmares worse than this and had woken up once the worst was over.

'Maybe the worst wasn't over yet' he thought to himself

He mentally slapped himself trying to whisk the thoughts away with the fact that Bucky was right here. He was breathing and he would be ok.

He hoped

Ok guys I am turning this into a full AU but I'm only gonna start after promptober is over. You're gonna have to bear with me for a little while longer.

Summary: In the end, Spider-Man is only one person. He cannot save everyone. And hate can rally more hate.

Word Count: 760

Tags: whump, public torture, blood, bruising, humiliation, degradation, religious imagery

Peter had been Spider-Man for more years than not at this point.

He was good, he was strong. He was fast, he didn't stop even when he was at his breaking point. He never let an opportunity go to waste. And he never forgot his Uncle Ben's last words.

But today all of that had come crashing down. For today, he didn't been quick enough. For today, he hadn't been strong enough. For today, he hadn't been smart enough.

Doctor Octavius had goaded him. Tricked him into a fight on his terms and his terms alone. Completely incapacitating Peter.

Peter's suit was torn to shreds, save for his mask, his was skin dripping blood and covered in horrible gashes and scrapes from the sharp metal Octavius controlled.

His arms were pulled apart above his head by his metal tentacles and he was sure at least 3 of his fingers were broken from the grip maintained around his hands

He desperately tugged at his restraints trying to slip his arms out of his capacitors grasp but Octavius noticed.

"Not so fast Spider-Man" and a mechanism inside two of the arms clicked sending barbs through Peter's hands.

He screamed from the pain as he felt sticky blood seep down the arm of his suit over his skin. He watched as drop after drop slid over his body leaving a trail behind him as he was manhandled around as Octavius moved.

Doctor Octavius was currently headed for times square, holding Peter in his wake as he perched in front of hunders of people who had stopped to whistness the fight between Spider-Man and the villain of the week.

He stuck his tentacles into the side of one of the biggest screens above the entire crowd. The sparks raining over the people.

"I have your beloved Spider-Man. The boy who promised to keep you safe! Promised to watch over your children in the night! Well look at him now"

Octavius moved Peter forward so he was hanging like Jesus on the cross in front of the gathered crowed.

"How many of you believed his lies and deception that he was anything more than a pest. How many have you put your faith in Spider-Man only to lose what you hold dear" he spat the words as he spoke them

Peter knew he was talking about his lab and his research, talking about the years of work he had put in. That they had put in together. Only for it to all be stripped away from him. His anger turning bitter with the influence of his machine.

The crowds clamouring turned. Peter could sense it. The way his skin crawled, the way he could feel the mounting disdain and anger and hurt radiating off the crowd.

The way people began to yell and curse at him. Shunning him for any good he had done in place of all he had failed to do.

He tried to tug and pull on Octavius' grasp but the barbs through his hands and the mechanically locked grip on his wrists kept him in place.

He kicked and swung trying to get any purchase or leverage in anything but he couldn't. Not without tearing his own hands off.

"Can you trust a boy who couldn't even save himself!"

Octavius yelled down at the crowed as he brought a third tentacle up, coiling up the wires to them smash the collected metal into his chest. Peter coughed, looking through the cracks in his mask as a spattering of blood leaked from his lips on impact, the majority of it staining his mask and filling his mouth. A sickly sweet and metallic taste that he choked on.

Octavius reeled back and struck him once more. This time in the face. Peter heard a crunch and the world around him was overtaken with a shrill wringing.

When it subsided he noticed the other noise. The cheering. The disgusting approval of the crowd below him. They were cheering as Octavius took out their collective rage on him.

Peter almost didn't blame them. There was so much he failed to do. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even save his uncle Ben. How was he expected to save the whole of New York.

Octavius continued to spit vile insults at him as he beat him over and over. Digging the barbs of his tentacles into Peter's side and bruising up Peter's face. His face swelled as a black eye formed over his right eye. His lip was split and he was continuing to cough up blood.

Peter's violent retribution was on display for all to see. They were calling for his public execution and Octavius would be the executioner.

He watched as Octavius tentacle came up one more time before he felt a burst of pain, stars scattering his vision before it all went black.

Logan watched Wade from the other side of the apartment as he cleared up the dishes in the kitchen. Despite what he first assumed Wade was a decently good house mate to Al and not as much of a slob as he seemed.

And usually the domesticity made Logan's heart swell. But tonight he was on edge. It was date night, and by date night it was Sunday night when Al went out to play Poker and do who knows what else and Logan and Wade took the 2 hours she was out to fuck. And Wade was taking his sweet fucking time.

"Just a minute, let me clean up" he had said.

13 minutes and 28 seconds ago but who was counting.

Logan strode across the apartment quickly and stood behind Wade. Breathing down the back of his neck without saying anything.

Wade noticed "Someone's eager tonight, aren't we Peanut?"

Logan answered Wade's question by taking the container Wade was holding and uncaring chucking it back into the sink.

"Oh hello tiger" Wade gave Logan his attention now and turned to face him.

Logan promptly picked Wade up and took him the other 4 steps into their shared room and threw him down onto the bed climbing on-top of him.

He crashed his mouth onto Wade's smiling lips and Wade kissed him back just as passionately. Their lips sliding across one another in all wet and sloppy.

Logan ground his hips down onto Wade's and Wade moaned at the friction. Feeling his cock harden up inside his shorts

"And yes for any readers wondering I am indeed 'going comando' as they say"

Wade can you shut up for 5 seconds.

"Sorry. I gotta let the people know"

Logan attempted to shut Wade up by pushing his tongue into Wade's mouth. Wade promptly moaned as his tongue wrestled with Logan's. Fighting for dominance in his own mouth.

Logan continued to grind into Wade's hips until he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled back and protracted his claws, ripping away the fabric of Wade's shorts and pulling of his own pants in one, overly aggressive, flourish.

He sheathed his claws again and crawled back on top of Wade

"Aren't you gonna prep me first baby girl?"

Logan answered by roughly pressing two of his fingers past the ring of muscles of Wade's ass. Wade promptly moaned and threw his head back.

"Marvel Jesus, fuck. Wait should you even moan your own name?"

Logan rolled his eyes and pushed another finger in. Wade was tight and he could feel his skin catching on his fingers. He forgot the fucking lube.

He pulled his fingers out of Wade's scared ass and spat on his fingers before pushing three back in.

"You are such a dirty bitch" Wade managed to whine out with a smile on his face. He was very happy to simply let Logan do his thing. After all, that many years and not having been laid could make a guy feel pent up.

After Logan deemed Wade sufficiently prepped he took his fingers out again, watching as Wade's ass clenched around nothing before lining up his cock with his entrance. Taking 2 seconds before pushing inside and bottoming out instantly.

That eared another loud moan from Wade and grunt from his own mouth

"Ah fuck, could have given me some warning you slut. Or do you treat all the girls like this?" Wade continued to joke. He just couldn't shut his fucking mouth

Logan pulled out and pushed back in again. Beginning to create a brutal rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming wetter and wetter as he went as his cock began to leak with pre-come.

The sound of the headboard hitting the wall sounded around the room as Logan aggressively pushed in and out of Wade's ass. The whole bed rocking with the harsh movement.

Wade's hands found Logan's arms and he clutched on tightly. Watching as the flesh sank around his fingers.

Logan fucked hard into Wade's ass as he leaned over Wade, kissing him roughly and messily. Occasionally biting at his skin. Wade giggled and moaned and whined and begged.

"Harder daddy~ Come on Wolvie I know you want to"

Wade was right and he knew it. Logan was more pent up than a bunny rabbit watching a female hop around in an open field. His ass was getting bruised and his lips felt swollen from all the biting and sucking Logan was working into his rhythm but he wanted more. He needed Logan to just let go and fuck him. Fuck him like his life depended on it.

Maybe it did, who knows.

Logan pulled away from kissing Wade to grab his legs. Slamming his cock into Wade's ass before pausing momentarily. Wade's hard cock stopped floping against his stomach.

Logan pulled Wade's legs up and placed one of them on his shoulder and the other under his arm. Pulling Wade's as up and essentially bending him in half so he could have full downward momentum as he thrusted into Wade's ass, putting him into a mating press.

Logan picked up his steady rhythm again and Wade's cock twitched with excitement. This new position allowed Logan to push further into Wade's ass until he was balls deep.

Wade moaned and giggled away until the pressure in his stomach grew and he knew he was about to come

"Harder Wolvie. M'so close~"

Logan continued to fuck Wade, picking up his pace as he felt his own cock twitch inside Wade's ass as his walls clenched around his cock.

Logan moaned and Wade moaned too as his cock spurt white ropes of cum over his chest. Some of it even hitting him in the face from this position.

Logan wasn't much further along and his movement became sloppy as his orgasm caught up to him, he lent forward and bit down on Wade's neck as he released all of his seed inside Wade. He didn't pull out until he was sure he had plugged Wade's ass full of cum.

The two of them panted heavily and they collapsed on top of each other.

"Mn you like it rough don't you" Wade said as he traced a finger over Logan's jaw.

Logan grunted in reply following up with "Didn't hurt you did I?"

"Aw cute little Wolvie is worried about me? Don't worry your sweet little cheeks about it Peanut."

Logan rolled his eyes and flopped over. His chest now smeared with Wade's cum. He looked at his stained shirt and tugged it off before standing up.

"C'mon, we need a shower"

"Only if you let me suck you off"

"Think you can handle me?" Logan teased

"Oh it's on honey badger"

This is less kinky and more fluffy but still with smut included. Idk I just liked this angle more

"You sure about this?" Soap asks as he holds the swath of fabric, just thick enough to cover his eyes

"You don't have to. But I'm gonna keep the mask on if you don't" Ghost responds simply.

Simon and Johnny had been dating for a few months now and we're progressing steadily with their relationship. However Simon still wasn't comfortable with showing his face.

He often pulled the mask up half way or put on his old balaclava so that Soap could see his eyes better. But he never fully took it off. Never allowed Johnny to see his full face.

A simple cuddle had turned into a steamy make out session and now the two men were half undressed, with Simon leaning over Johnny.

He was sick of wearing the mask at times. He wanted to keep his face hidden...but it just... Sometimes he needed to breathe, and not in the literal sense.

But he still couldn't let Johnny see his face, not yet. So he tried to compromise but he didn't want Johnny to do anything he wasn't comfortable with. He would continue to be uncomfortable if it meant Johnny was happy.

"No it's fine. I want you to be comfortable too" Soap confirmed

Simon sighed, thankful for Johnny's compromise.

"Jus' tell me if somethin's not right. Got it?"

Soap nodded and with the Ghost moved around to tie the piece of cloth around Soaps eyes.

The fabric blocked out all light, not that there was any light to begin with but now he couldn't even see Ghosts silhouette.

Ghost pulled of his mask and took a deep breath in. Pulling the night air freely into his lungs.

He pushed Johnny down onto the bed and the resumed their heated makeout session. Ghosts hands roaming over his body as he did so.

Johnny took time adjust at first but he couldn't help the way it turned him on when Ghost would touch him somewhere unexpected. Making him gasp as his skin prickled.

It was even more of a pleasant surprise when Ghost moved to suck him off without warning. His hips bucking forward and his stomach jumping from the shock.

He moaned loudly in surprise and Ghost chuckled. The rumbling vibrating off his cock as he did so.

The two spent the rest of the night like this with Ghost teasing and tricking Soap with his chaste touches and secret movements adding to Soap's arousal and eventual climax. As Ghost toyed with his nipples and caressed the soft flesh of his body.

Soap but couldn't help see the appeal in not being able to see Simon. In allowing him to touch and hold and feel Johnny however he liked without Johnny knowing was was going to happen. It almost felt better, the lack of seeing made everything he felt 10x more intense.

He didn't know how that worked, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

During future encounters Johnny would even ask Simon if he could use the blindfold again. And Simon was happy to oblige for his sake as well as Johnny's. It even became a running joke between them that Simon would walk up behind Johnny and cover his eyes, giving him a kiss on the neck as he did so.

Needless to say, this one small encounter lead on to Soap discovering a new kink

A shorter one-shot this time but I have never written for this kink before so I had no idea what I was doin'

The team was out at the bar, the lights from the dance floor casting colourful shadows onto the brightly lit face of the team.

Ghost, as usual was sitting next to Soap, his mask still on despite the grease under his eyes having come almost completely off, letting the natural tone of his skin shine through.

The two of them were squished together on one of the bench seats at the set of tables the group was sharing. The table end was touching the window with the seats lined up along it. Soap was squished next to the window as Ghost stretched out in the seat next to him.

Man spreading like the attention whore he was taking up way to much space, at least that's what Soap thought. Not that he minded much, he just liked giving Ghost a hard time. Feeling his thigh pressed up against his own made him feel a little warm though. Not that he mentioned it.

He simply lent back in his chair and cradled his beer, quietly listening to the 141 chatter away amongst themselves. The more drinks the boys ordered the louder they got. Eventually falling into a chorus of singing that drowned out the actual music they were chiming into.

Ghost was tapping his fingers on the table to the rythm. His other hand had been holding a drink but the glass was empty now and his hand had slunk under the table. Subtly Soap looked at Ghost out of the corner of his eyes. Ghost was looking around the bar, at least from what he could see so he took a moment to drink in the view Ghost was displaying.

He was relaxed, his shoulders a lot lower. Not tense to withstand the knockback of his rife and to protect himself from any oncoming threat.

His head was resting against the wall behind his chair, an outcropping of brick that was clearly only there for internal architectural reasons and not actual structural purposes.

Soap finished his last mouthful of his drink and repositioned himself, sitting up as he swallowed, accidentally knocking Ghost's leg.

Ghost stopped his scan of the room to turn to look at Soap, who had just been caught taking an eyeful of his Sargent.

Ghost stared at Soap, looking him up and down once, his eyes falling down and lingering only to look back up at him again. Their eyes metting.

It was a sizing up, not one he was used to with the other boys in the barracks. It was an inquisitive, almost appreciative look.

Ghost had just done to Soap what he had done to him.

Did the bastard know he was looking? And just let him?

"Are you quite finished?"

"Sorry sir, just uh- got distracted"

"I can tell"

Motherfucker

He tried to close his legs, create a more respectful distance between him and his very attractive superior-

'Wait, that was not a descriptor that needed to be added' he thought

Regardless as he tried to close his legs, he realised he had the beginnings of a boner residing between them.

Shit

Ghost turned slightly facing Soap more, blocking him from view from the rest of the room. Soap swallowed as he felt a chill run up and down his spine. He suppressed a shudder.

There was something in his eyes that Soap couldn't read. He did his best to hold his Sergeants gaze but the silence was becoming slightly unbearable. Untill it dropped

And that had to be worse.

Ghost's eyes dropped to Soap's half-closed legs where he couldn't help but feel his cock twitch inside his boxers. His body was clearly interested, but inside his mind, he was panicking. He knew that there was already a small tent in his pants. And Ghost was their resident sniper. There was no way he missed it.

Soap couldn't keep his eyes off Ghost a mix of fear and arousal at the whole situation ingrained in the skin of his face which he hopped seemed mostly unbothered.

Whilst trying very hard to keep his face neutral his missed Ghosts hand snaking over from his lap and into his own until he felt the pressure on his half hard cock .

He hissed but bit his bottom lip to stop the noise and he blinked looking at Ghost.

"Are you gonna to keep ogling me? Or are you gonna let me do somethin' 'bout it?"

Soap kept a firm grip on his bottom lip with his own teeth. He nodded his head instead.

There was no way in hell he was going to say no to the man he had been pining over for more than a year now.

He swallowed again and tried to slow his breathing. They were in fucking public after all. At a local bar, in front of all of his friends and people he considered to be like family. But the idea didn't completely turn his off. If he was going to be honest, it turned him on.

Ghost shared the same sentiments. As he looked at Soap squirming around as he palmed his cock through his jeans desperately trying to make everything seems normal.

Ghost slipped his thumb into Soap's belt loops and pulled him closer, sliding him across the cheap leather of the bench.

He slipped his hand into Soaps jeans to grasp his length inside his boxers. Soaps whole body tensed but for the most part he maintained his composure.

Ghost leaned down to whisper in his ear

"Turn back and keep talking. Consider this a test"

"But what if someone sees?"

"That's an order"

Soap couldn't say no to that, even if he wanted to. He already found it attractive listening to Ghost thoroughly and authoritatively giving orders to the men. His voice deep and rough and commanding. This was better. Personal and very hot

So he did and as he did so Ghost gave him a light stroke in his jeans as a reward. Soap had to put his hand up to pretend he was scratching his cheek to block shuddering breath he let out.

As he began composing himself again Ghost decided to keep up a painfully slow and surprising rhythm. Not allowing Soap to time or anticipate the strokes just as Roach and Gaz turned to him and began chatting away animatedly.

"You remember when we were back in Siberia yeah? That time in...when was it"

Gaz turned to Roach as if he would remember the date despite the two of them looking one drink away from passing out.

"Answer him" Ghost said loud enough for Soap to hear

"It was uh-" but Soap was struggling to find the words with Ghost running his thumb back and forth across his cock head. He cleared his throat and tried again

"2003 wasn't it?" He finally got out

"Yeah yeah, that's right ain't it Roach?"

Roach nodded as if Gaz had just imparted some great wisdom.

"Oh and what about that time in New Mexico when-"

But Soap didn't hear what they did on that mission because Ghost's hand had slunk down further into his boxers to begin fondling Soap's balls. It took all his strength not to cry out and the force of the tugging made him see stars. Ghost gave him another squeeze with the same command

"Keep talking"

"Yeah, Yep. I remember that one too" Soap had no fucking clue what Gaz was talking about but if he stopped so would Ghost.

"What was it that you said to me? The uh- the thing about that thing with the grenades"

Ghost took his index finger and thumb, wrapping them around the base of his cock and applying a dizzying amount of pressure

Soap groaned under his breath and tried to clear his head but he couldn't think about what Gaz was talking about.

Ghost gave a soft squeeze at which Soap yelped which he turned into a fake noise of remembrance

"Ah~ I think I remember. Something about pulling the pin in anything but a grenade your aren't gonna throw"

"That's right. I was just a rookie back then. Hey Price-"

The conversation between the three trailed off as Gaz turned to Price instead with Roach following suit.

Ghost slid his hand up and down Soap's shaft a few times

"You did well-" he leant back down close to Soap.

How the fuck had no one noticed yet

"-Johnny. Think you deserve a reward" Ghost followed up with running his thumb along his slit again.

His balls felt so tight and his cock had fully hardened now, he desperately needed to cum but he couldn't do that here. Not now. But he couldn't bring his mouth to form the words 'Not here, are you crazy?!' or even just a simple 'No'

So Ghost took that as a yes.

He began to thoroughly and sufficiently stroke Soap inside his jeans. Soap put his hand to his mouth, muffling a groan that turned into a deep moan.

Ghost sped up and he couldn't take it. Slamming his head down onto the table to hide his face.

"Every thin' alright?" Price called. Soap couldn't bring himself to answer

"Yeah, Johnny's jus' feeling a lil' dizzy is all" Ghost answered instead

Price chuckled and turned back to his conversation. Satisfied with his excuse.

Ghost quickened his pace and Soap's hands clutched at the fabric of his own jeans. At a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Heat was swelling in his stomach and he knew soon he was going to pop.

When Ghost leant down one more time to whisper in Soap's ear he lost it

"C'mon. That's a good boy"

And with that Soap cried out, stuffing his hand into his mouth moments after. As if it would take back the noise.

His cock twitched and spasmed as cum leaked out of it coating the front of his boxers and jeans with his own release. He could feel the outsides getting wet and staining.

Ghost slowly pulled his hand out and pressed his cum covered fingers to Soap's mouth. Soap turned to him, eyes wide, his nostrils flaring with the force of his breathing.

Ghost looked at him intently and didn't move. Soap replaced his head to its original position. And removed his hand from his mouth. Ghost placed his fingers on Soap's waiting tongue as he licked his own seed of Ghost's fingers. He sucked on them until they were clean and Ghost pulled away.

"What would you say to visiting my quar'ers after our little outing?"

Now with some of his composure back Soap sat up and ran a hand over his face. Reclining in his chair as some of his usual bravado returned.

"Sounds delightful" he said

If imma be honest I've never written public sex before since personally I think sex and kinks are very personal and private but hey, I gave it my best shot. Let me know what you think

Summary: Logan and you are making slow progress in this new found connection. It's good and all you want is to be near him.

Word Count: 800+

Tags: Fluff, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, Logan is a softie, reader is even softer, talks of suicide but no suicide actually occurs

After your first date you and Logan kept things simple. And on the down low. Neither of you were exactly ready to take what was going on between you any further.

Don't get it twisted thought, both of you definitely had very strong feelings for each other, but it was too soon to make anything official. And the two of the shared that notion.

So, you kept things quiet, and you kept them private. Trying to stay unassuming. Although you couldn't deny that even your platonic relationship had changed and become noticeable to others.

You would still see him in class, but rather than dropping his coffee and leaving like you used to, you stayed for a while. Sitting on one of the cabinets by his desk or even on his desk in front of him during his breaks. Leaving before the children filed in but staying long enough for the two of you to chat. Sometimes you left, giving him a chaste kiss as you went.

Other times he would find you out in the gardens like he had the first night, joining you as you studied the orchids. Committing the view to memory even in the dim light. Moments like those were important to you after spending too many years locked up in a white and grey cell.

Logan would join you, his elbows touching yours as you rested on the fence dividing the properties. But after a while, he began slipping an arm over your shoulder, or even your waist and holding you beside him. It was gentle, his intentions clearly comforting.

And you enjoyed his attempt at getting close to you, it was nice. You only wished you had the guts to make a real move yourself.

And one night you did. You had attempted to actually sleep for once, but as usual sleep never came. But instead of sneaking out into the gardens to walk around in the crisp night air, you made your way to Logan's room.

At first you faltered, thinking this was a bad idea. You wanted to turn away, but you also wanted to knock and just be with him.

Before you could make either decision the door swung open, Logan standing in a white tank top that hung off his frame and blue boxer shorts.

You felt blush creep up your cheeks, had you been that noisy walking down the hall?

He also looked slightly embarrassed himself, there was a trace of eagerness in the way he was looking at you as you stood in his doorway.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You ask

"Nah-" he replied "-I wasn't asleep...but I smelt ya outside. Was worried something was wrong"

You swallowed at the idea that Logan was so attuned to your scent, but you tried to not let that get to your head.

"Everything alright?" he asked

"Yeah...just, needed some company"

Logan stepped out of the doorway and gestured for you to come inside.

You walked in but now that you were here you felt awkward, you hadn't ever been in another person's dorm room and certainly not Logan's. You stood there, unsure of what to do next

Logan stood there as well, but he was the bigger man out of the two of you and as usual was the one to make the first move. He stepped closer to you and cupped your face in his hand, sighing.

"You sure everything is alright?" he asks again

This time you don't respond. He gets the idea.

He takes his other hand and holds yours with it, and slowly begins to walk backwards and pulls you with him until he sits down on the bed, and you fall down beside him. Your hands still connected.

"I just...-" you try to say something, anything but words fail you. Like usual

You hated to sleep, even when you tried it was hard and when you did all you could hear were the memories of nightmares, the ones you had actually lived. That moment in your school, your time in the MRDA holding facility. The echoing screams of you and your fellow prisoners as the MRDA conducted experiments testing the limits of your mutations. You wanted it all to go away. You wanted to blow your own head off in hopes that the nightmares would stop. But you wouldn't die, and you didn't think that death would grant you such a mercy.

"-I just need you to hold me" you say instead. Like a coward, because you can't face up to the fact that Logan might care about you and genuinely want to know about what haunted you. So, you bury those feelings for a little while longer, shoving them away to be replaced with the warmth of Logan.

He shuffles over to lie down in the bed and pulls you with him. You sink down into the sheets, resting your head on his chest as he tucks his arm under you and pulls you close to him. Holding you tight.

The fuzz on his arms tickles the back of your neck as he rests it just above the neckline of your shirt.

All of him is so comforting and nice. And... exactly what you've been missing. The cold darkness of your past seemed to ebb away with the warmth that emanated from Logan, and not just the physical warmth but his presence was so soothing. The care he showed you, the compassion, the empathy despite your own coldness in the beginning.

You snuggled into Logan further trying to soak up his warmth. To absorb as much of it as you can, for the fear that as soon as he left you would never be able to feel this warmth again. To feel his warmth.

Your eyes began to grow heavy as you listen to his deep breathing. The sound lulled you into a tranquil calm that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As you drifted off you felt Logan move a hand to brush some stray hairs away from your cheek. He lent down and kissed you softly on the top of the head.

He whispered something you only just caught before the darkness overtook you, and you were sure he only said it because he thought you were asleep. But it made your inside warm up in a way that made you feel like you were glowing.

"Goodnight, my little fighter"

Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but its a filler chapter. The next chapter will be a lot more fun tho

Also keep in mind this is a fic on my Ao3, so if you wouldn't mind checking me out and giving me some support there as well that would be greatly appreciated

I've said it once and I'll say it again, this title is completely inccroect but I'm not going to change it because I like to keep things orderly and the same.

Also I realised I never said but this takes place between X Men and X2

Summary: Logan and you have finally sorted things out and decide to go on a date

Word Count: 3.2k+

Tags: fluff, date, motorcycle ride, Logan being a gentleman, discussion of past trauma

That morning you woke up buzzing with energy. You were still physically tired, as you had only gotten 4 hours of sleep but your mind was full of images of Logan.

Last night did not feel real. All that had happened between the two of you did not seem possible.

When you had first met Logan you believed you weren’t good enough for his notice, and that he thought the same. But you craved to be noticed, you really wanted that attention and only from Logan. And you didn’t know why. Those feelings were just one more thing to add to the complicated emotions you had been burdened with over the years.

The whole reason you were here is because Xavier had sensed your mutational presence near by and offered you a place amongst his mutants at the school. Not as a student but as resident and eventual teacher. You weren’t ready to teach yet, but you knew Xavier thought you were. All of those things, the hurt, the abandonment, the compassion showed by a stranger and the conflicting feelings you had for Logan, that you didn’t realise until last night was adoration, had built up in your mind creating another space for you to build a wall. But that building took time. And in the meantime, alcohol was your best friend.

But then of course Logan had to come along and knock all of those walls down, even some you had only begun to build. And at first you were mad at him. Infuriated at him for taking away your security. But now…now you were glad he had fought his way inside. Even if it had brought forward feelings you had refused to let yourself feel. You were glad of it.

The pain of being emotionless hurt your heart beyond measure but Logan’s violent appearance had given you that push to allow yourself to feel again, and that’s when you knew that you felt for Logan. You couldn’t call it love.

Not yet.

You didn’t know him.

But it was like a childish crush, one you knew was maybe not so childish.

You spent that day going about your duties as best as possible trying to keep yourself unassuming and placated. You didn’t really want anyone to ask questions in fear they might work out what was going on with you. You didn’t need to be Charles Xavier to figure out what a crush was.

At the end of the day you went back to your room trying to calm your nerves and figure out what you were supposed to wear. Though you were eager for the date you hadn’t been on one since high school. And that hadn’t gone so well.

Logan on the other hand had woken up with a feeling in his gut he couldn’t place. And he refused to let that feeling be nervousness. He just…he didn’t want to wait.

But he did, and he did so patiently. Teaching his classes like he always did, recounting all he could remember from his time during World War 2. What it had been like, what society and the government were like. The front lines and the battles.

As usual the kids were wrapped up in the way he explains their American history. Engulfed in the realism of the tale. There were few students who knew how old Logan really was. So most believe he was just a fantastic storyteller. Maybe he should have been an English teacher instead.

But as the day went on and classes finished, Logan retired to his room briefly. Pulling out a beer from the mini fridge he kept in his room. He wasn’t nervous he just needed a pre-dinner beer.

During the day he had booked them a place in a restaurant 6 miles from the school. It was a small Italian restaurant. Despite all his years of traveling he had never been to Italy. And this was the closest he was ever going to get to it. He rummaged through his closet looking for some his more presentable clothing. Many of his t-shirts had holes in them or roughly stitched together holes. Most of his jeans had also begun to tear in places and he had let them. Even creating a few more to make them look like the ripped jeans he saw all the teens wearing in the 90s, that’s one fashion trend he wishes hadn’t faded.

He finds the only pair of jeans that don’t have any holes in them and one of his buttons up flannels which he accompanies with his leather jacket. He looks over to his nightstand where a small bottle of cologne sits. Rouge got it for his birthday last year but he never used it. What need did he have to smell nice. Plus, it was overpowering to his oversensitve nose so he never bothered with it.

But today felt like a reason to use it. So he took the bottle, removing the glass lid and spraying a small amount of his chest trying not to inhale the airborn particles.

He checked his hair in the mirror and stopped for a moment to stare at himself. He never put this much effort into how he looked. He never had a reason to care. Subconsciously he must've already deemed you important and special, he realised that as he stared into his own eyes.

He was in the deep end now.

Logan straightened up and moved to head to the garage where he said he would meet you. Waiting by his bike checking it over before they got going.

You on the other hand were pacing back and forth in your room. All types of clothes laying around your room, on your desk chair, bed and even the floor. You couldn't decide if you wanted to go with the Canvas pants in that deep shade of green with your black and white varsity jacket or if you wanted to go with the ripped jeans and the black and red flannel. You knew this was a date, but you didn’t know how dressy you were supposed to be or if he was taking you somewhere that required you to dress up a bit.

In the end you chose neither outfit and went with your informal-formal button up that could easily be tied into a crop top if the place wasn’t that fancy and your black set of canvas pants.

You make your way to the grave, hoping and praying no one will see you. Your breathing is controlled as you try to stop your emotions from overwhelming you as you reach the grave entrance.

You open the door and look around for Logan. You see him crouched down by his Harley Davidson. You knew it used to be Scott’s. But at this point it was an X-Men vehicle, so it was free use for anyone who got to it first. He was bent over by the chain on the back wheel. Cleaning it off with an old rag, clearing away any extra grease that might clog it up.

You stood silently behind him, watching him as he worked. The way his hands ran over the chain, taking care with the mechanics. Making sure to use a firm hand to clear away the gunk but not too firm to damage the hardware. The bikes hull was glossy black. Buffed and shined, completely spotless despite its constant use.

“Good evening, Professor Howlett” you say with a smirk on your face. He jumps slightly and turns around to look down at you. Standing up and cleaning off his hands on the rag.

“Don’t call me that” he huffs as he says it

“Rolls off the tongue don’t you think?” you say cheekily

“No, not from your mouth, since you aren’t one of my students” he grabs you gently by the cheeks and smushes your face.

“Are we gonna get going?” he says swinging his leg over the bike and kicking up the stand. He looks at you expectantly. And with the slightest hesitation you hop on the bike behind him.

He turns the key and the bike roars to life. The sound echoing throughout the garage in a thunderous uproar of 2 cylinders exhuming a plume of gasoline. You grab a hold of his jacket as he sped out of the garage entrance and down the street. Where the road was dimly lit by the setting sun and the sky was painted in beautiful pinks and oranges.

He sped down the street heading towards the town and you held onto him. Leaning forward to press your chest against his back, your head resting on his shoulder. Tilted towards the sun set you were riding alongside. Like a beautiful backdrop to match the closing scene of an old romance movie.

‘How clique is that’ you thought, smiling to yourself.

You could not believe that you were here right now, sitting on the back of this monstrous vehicle holding onto a man you believe would never have paid you any mind. This felt like a perfect dream.

Logan tried to focus on the road as the two of you sped down it. But with your heart beating against his spine and your arms around his waist all he could focus on was you. His eyes were on the strip of bitumen in front of him, but his mind was thinking of your face. Your windswept hair and your bright eyes shining in the dim light.

Once they had made it into town, he had taken his hand away from the throttle and instead trundled down the streets until he stopped on the corner of a small side street and hoped of the bike. Turning to offer you a hand as you swung your own leg over the bike.

“Since when did you become such a gentleman?” you ask him

“I’ve always been one, I just show it to those who deserve it” He smiles at you.

You smile back, some warmth creeping onto your cheeks.

He continued to hold your hand as the two of you walked through the entrance. He opened the door allowing you to walk ahead of him, inside was a quaint little restaurant. All the tables and chairs were a varnished wood, sitting in different arrangements for different parties. The waiters wore simple white button up tops not dissimilar to your own, the lady at the reception wore soft red lipstick on her lips. She looked over the two of you before checking the reservation under Logan’s name. She directed you two to a small seat by the window that had a direct view of the main road. As you walked you decided to tie your shirt up. Silently thanking yourself for picking versatile attire.

You sit down and Logan sits across from you. You hadn’t been out to many restaurants before. Between the MRD, and Xavier’s school you hadn’t been on many dates past the age of 16. And those could hardly be considered dates. Even in this quaint little restaurant you felt a swell of emotion rise in your chest. You pushed it down thought. First dates weren’t for gushing and heart felt confessions.

The two of you order your food. You decide to get some spinach and fetta ravioli, and he ordered a calzone. You haven’t had many well-cooked meals. Mostly old, reheated meals or whatever was given to you by the scientists monitoring you. Usually nonperishables that were bland and in amounts that were not sustainable.

‘What brought you to Xavier’s school?” you ask, trying to start up a conversation. So far the two of them had been quietly enjoying their meals, the silence wasn’t awkward but it was still silence and you wanted to get to know him. That was the point of this date, wasn’t it? You didn’t know, and for a moment you began feeling severely out of your depth.

“Charles sent Scott and Storm to find me. Told me if I gave him 48 and helped him figure out what Magneto was doing before the UN conference that he would try and help me with the memories of my past. But I guess after those 48 hours I got attached. Even when I left to go find answers I always came back.” He took another bite of his food

“And did he help you?” You ask

“As much as he could. I know most of my story now but…still got fracture pieces. Don’t know where some memories are still from or why I even have them”

“Like what?”

He thinks for a moment, searching through the catalogue of memories recently discovered

“I remember a lab. Being cold. I think I way laying in a tank, because the memory is distorted. The same way the world looks when you have water in your eyes. And I remember the pain. But other than that, I have nothing. I know it’s an important memory, but I don’t know why” He confesses this all so honestly. You look at him as he speaks, his eyes searching as he looks at his food. You don’t think he’s really looking at it though. He's somewhere else when recounting this.

He shrugs and takes another bite of his food, he looks up when he sees your hand reach out to hold the one resting on the table. You run your fingers over the knuckles on his right hand. He was so open about this, from here, listening to him speak, you could hear in his voice how badly he wanted to explain, to understand. You assumed that he hadn’t told anyone about this. The only person who probably knows any of this is Xavier because he was the person who pulled these memories to the surface. But that isn’t the same as being able to share the story. Share the memories.

“Do you remember anything else?” You want him to keep sharing, you want to know more about him, but you also want to give him the opportunity to continue to tell whatever version of his story he remembers. You can hear it in the ease of his voice that he needs this.

“I’ve got memories of battles, fights and wars without context. Some faces, there was this one girl…her name was Kayla, I think. And…a man named Creed. But I don’t know why I know these names or these people” He huffs slightly, it sounds like a laugh but it’s missing humour

“I don’t even know how old I am, because you can’t date the age of my bones due to the Adamantium and because my cells are constantly regenerating, they aren’t aged the same way another people would be. I’m sure you’re probably the same with your regeneration.”

You nod your head slightly, agreeing. You wondered what was worse. Not being able to remember or remembering everything. You and Logan were complete opposite ends of this. Your memories kept you up at night, and his fractured ones plagued his sleep. You are missing parts of your life at the vile hands of others, and his was completely taken from him without him knowing for so long. Logan tries so hard to remember, and you try so hard to forget.

Logan pulls his hand out from under yours and places it over the top. Running the pad of his finger over the tendons in your hand.

His calloused hands felt so gentle over your skin.

“Hey-“ he says trying to get your attention. Your mind had wandered, and he had noticed “-don’t worry ‘bout me yeah? This ain’t for you to worry about”

You look at him and smile sadly “I just hope you can get your memories back”

The two of you go back to eating your food momentarily, the mood having taken a solemn turn. Logan decides to ask a question now.

He didn’t bother to ask about your backstory, he knows that isn’t a story you are ready to share. And he didn't need to ask why you were at Xavier’s school. He was the one that had picked you up at Charles request. Instead he asked about your life, in a future sence

“What do you want with your life? I mean…Xavier gave you a second chance, but that doesn’t mean you have to be at the school forever. What do you want?”

You were slightly taken aback at his question, for so long future had never been something to be considered. But he was right, about Xavier giving you a second chance

“I haven’t really though about it, I mean…I just needed time to get any semblance of my life back together. And I’m still working on doing that. So I haven’t really thought about anything long term”

He nodded “But that’s still something. It’s still a plan”

You hummed in agreement

The two of you continued to eat in a calm silence with conversation permeating the air around you between mouthfuls. Once the two of you finish the meal you sit and talk over your empty plates.

Your elbows are up on the table, your head in your hands as you lean forward listening as he talks. Logan was talking about the time he met Rouge and all of the misadventures they’d had since they’d met. He was such a good friend to Rouge. And from where you were standing it seemed that he was like a big brother to her. You were glad the two of them had each other.

As the date came to a close the two of you felt at ease and much closer with each other. The hours spent talking had began the building of a bridge between the two of you. You both felt content with the amount of ground you had covered.

Like a crack slowly being filled in enough for you to meet in the middle. Perhaps not quite yet, but it was a start.

The two of you rode back through the night, the moon high above your head.

When you got back to Xaviers mansion the bike rumbled to a stop in the garage and he helped you off once more.

“Good thing we got back before a full moon, you might’ve turned into a werewolf on the bike” you joked

He laughed “Wolverines aren’t Wolves” he corrected you

“What are they then?” You ask a smile on your face

Logan softly grabbed your chin and tilted it up towards him “Maybe I’ll tell you on our next date? But you gotta promise not to look it up before then. Deal?”

“Fine-“ you concede. “-But next date is my treat”

He leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your lips and lets go of your chin

“Sure thing” And with that Logan took your hand, like the gentleman he is, and lead you back to your room before walking back to his own.

You watch him walk down the hall, your door cracked open just a peek. And when he was gone you shut it. As the door clicked shut you sank to the floor in front of it, your cheeks a bright red and grin stretched across your lips.

Sorry this took so long guys. I promise I'll finish this one before I start any more projects. Either way I hope you enjoyed and keep your eyes out for future parts!

Part 7!

I think my problem is not that I'm aiming to high or dreaming to big. It's the fact that I'm only looking at my creations from a fame perspective.

It's the fact that as I'm creating I'm thinking "how can I be the next Stan Lee? How can I be the next Rick Riordan? How can I be the next Gorge Lucas?" And I really shouldn't be

Do you think those people went into creating their worlds thinking about how rich and famous they would get by doing so? Probably not.

I need to focus on why I'm creating my creation in the first place. I need to look at it and think "why does this make me happy. Why is this worth putting time and effort into"

I know fame is alluring but it shouldn't be the end goal. My end goal should be creating something that will bring me joy. And if luck and skill would have it maybe it will bring others joy too.

Sure fame is nice and all but there should be a balance. It shouldn't be the defining goal. It can be one of them, but I don't think it should be the main on. At least in creating like art and writing.

I put so much pressure on myself and I think I need to just chill a little bit y'know

Do you ever just want to create your own entire universe filled with characters built upon deep backstories and truamatic pasts. Characters with abusive family and loving partners and complicated histories and live in worlds so fantastical compared to our own where their lives are magical and heroic.

Only to realise it's literally just your AU of your favourite franchise

...

I so desperately want to make my own version of the marvel universe. I want to have unique characters and unique worlds but bring it all to life in a way that feels like our reality but so clearly isn't I want to do what Stan Lee and Timely Comics did all the way back when, but how do I do that when there are already so many franchises out there just like it. How do I be unique?

Dude I have so many fucking ideas. And writer's block the size of the Chrysler building and I need some help to pick what to write next. I usually find it easier to write if someone want's to read my work. So I wanna know what you guys are interested in seeing.