18+ Mdni

Doodle based on that drawing by @/sweepswoop_ on Twitter

love how when zoro rides with chopper he is in cool big bro mode and when he's with luffy he's goofing around

lettin virgy simon get between your legs 👅

his blunt nails skitter up over your thighs, grabbing and pulling at the soft fat braced over your hipbones. he’s forcing and bending you into a melting mess, pressuring you into different angles, letting his lips suckle you up sweetly.

“s-slow, simon, calm down.” you gasp, pressing the heel of your palm into the top of his skull. body going shrill when his inexperienced tongue licks and sharp teeth snag and bite. fingertips spreading and kneading.

n he pulls away from you, a lewd “pop” and a pretty, glistening string of spit follow him. n his breath is shallow and heavy, chest heaving as he catches up to his racing heart, brain fuzzy from lack of oxygen.

he pulls his hands away, letting them rest easy on the sheets. “i-im sorry, mama,” he whispers, glossy eyes looking up at you. “i’ll be gentle, i’m sorry.”

that’s all my horniess for right now guys sorry 💔

size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?

Part 01 - Severance | Frostbite Series | The Winter Soldier

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x Original Female Character (1st Person)

Word count: 2,488

Summary: Elena is violently abducted from her hospital, blindfolded, and flown to a secret HYDRA base deep in the Carpathian Mountains. She quickly learns why she was taken—her expertise is needed to “repair” something they refuse to call human. When she finally sees the Winter Soldier, brutalized and broken beyond recognition, she is horrified. But worse than his wounds are the implications—HYDRA doesn’t just use him as a weapon. They use him for everything.

Disclaimer: This series is extremely dark, touching on graphic violence, psychological torment, and human suffering in all its forms. If you choose to read, proceed with caution.

Warnings: strictly 18+, Abduction & Forced Confinement, Physical & Psychological Torture, Implied SA & Exploitation, Violence & Threats, Strong Language

A/N: i am BEYOND excited to share the first chapter with you guys! even though this is dark stuff, i'm having fun with the writing process so far. i really hope you will enjoy it too :) happy reading!!

❄️ Frostbite Chapters: Part 01 - Severance - you are currently here Part 02 - Incision Part 03 - Containment Part 04 - Recognition Part 05 - Trigger Part 06 - Submission Part 07 - Disobedience

📍Masterlist

It was supposed to be a regular Wednesday. I was in the scrub room, hands sterile, mentally running through the procedure I was about to perform; delicate spinal reconstruction for a young man injured in a car crash. Standard case, nothing I haven’t done before.

Until the door slammed open. 

Before I could turn, something yanked me back with a force so brutal it knocked the air out of my lungs. A hand clamped over my mouth, another locked around my waist, crushing me against an unyielding chest. Cold air rushed over my skin as I was dragged backward like prey.

The scalpel tray crashed, echoing back a sharp sting against the tiled floor. I thrashed as my instinct was taking over, but I was no match for the iron grip that was holding me in place.

"If you fight, we’ll make it worse."

My heart stopped in its movement. I jerked my head to the side, only to see masked men in black tactical gear, covered from head to toe, impossible to identify. The realization slammed through me like ice.

It wasn't a robbery. Not of an object, at least.

I'm being kidnapped.

My body surged with adrenaline, muscles tensing, legs kicking as I tried to scream, but the hand over my mouth clamped down harder, suffocating the sound before it even left my throat.

That is when something cold and sharp pressed against my neck.

"Quiet, Doctor."

A sting. Then, nothing.

Now, I wake up to complete darkness. They blindfolded me. My head is pounding, my mouth dry as sandpaper, and my wrists ache from the zip ties digging into my skin. I try to move, but my body is sluggish. They drugged me. There’s a sickly smell in the air, something like oil, metal, and rotting. The floor beneath me vibrates faintly while I spot the unmistakable, muffed sound of engines roaring. 

A plane.

I’m on a goddamn plane.

The realization shocks the grogginess right out of me. There's no fucking way. I yank at my restraints, testing their hold, but it’s useless. I can barely lift my hands. My breath is coming in too fast, and I can feel a panic attack forming in my chest, but I take a deep breath.

Stay calm, Lena. Think. If they wanted to kill you, they would've by now. They need you for something.

Just as I manage to regulate myself, I hear footsteps approaching from the front of the aircraft. A chair then scrapes against the metal floor.

"You’re awake, Dr. Mirea."

The accent is thick, Russian or something close. He's calm, almost polite, which makes the situation comical to me. I can’t see him from the blindfold that is strapped tightly around my head, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Where am I?" I ask, the sound coming out all raspy and dry.

"Does it matter?"

"Since I’m the one you kidnapped, I’d say it does." I force the fear out of my voice. I won’t let them hear me break.

I hear papers rustle in his hands before he sighs, like I’m his 10-year-old child throwing a tantrum.

"Professor Doctor Elena Cătălina Mirea. Thirty-two years old. Romanian immigrant, naturalized citizen of the United States. Harvard Medical School for M.D. and Ph.D. Double board-certified in trauma and neurosurgery. Specializing in combat injuries, reconstructive procedures, and neural damage. Published in at least seven international medical journals. Former consultant for the Pentagon’s advanced rehabilitation program. Shall I go on?"

My stomach twists to the size of a tennis ball. I always knew I had a reputation, but to hear it spoken back to me in a situation like this, in his voice, makes my blood run cold.

"Impressive credentials," he muses, flipping through the file. "The kind that would make a person very difficult to replace."

I scoff. "If you needed a surgeon, there are easier ways to book an appointment."

He laughs, and I swear he sounds amused. "Not for this project."

I lick my cracked lips, trying to swallow the fear clawing at my throat. "Why am I here?"

He doesn't answer for a couple of seconds. I can hear him shifting in his seat, the sound of saliva popping in his mouth as he grins. The motherfucker must be enjoying this.

 "It’s no use pretending you don’t understand what’s happening. You were chosen for a reason."

I grind my teeth. "If this is about money—"

A sharp laugh cuts me off. "This isn’t about money, Professor. This is about purpose." He pauses, then continues in a tone laced with thinly veiled amusement. "You will be saving an asset of great value. An asset that has been damaged and requires repairs."

An asset? Repairs?

"You’re mistaken," I say, forcing steel into my voice. "I’m not an engineer."

"Oh, Professor." A gloved hand pats my knee in a deeply condescending way. "You’ll learn soon enough… There’s no difference."

I stiffen.

"You’re needed to repair it," he continues. "Our most valuable weapon. It sustained extensive damage during a recent mission. Tissue damage, internal injuries. And there are… complications."

I don’t know what horrifies me more—the way he speaks, or the fact that I still don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about.

"What exactly is ‘it’?" I bite out.

He pauses. Then, as if indulging a particularly stupid child, he clarifies.

"The Winter Soldier."

Excrutiating cold creeps down my spine.

I’ve heard that name before briefly, in fearful whispers among government officials and intelligence circles. A ghost story, an assassin that doesn’t exist. Well, at least that's what I've always thought.

"You’re talking about a person."

He clicks his tongue. "It was a person. It is now a machine—one that needs to be maintained, serviced, and controlled."

I shake my head, rage bubbling in my chest despite my fear. "I’m a doctor. I save lives. I don’t reprogram murderers."

"You don’t have to," he says, and though I can’t see him, I can hear the smirk in his voice. "You just have to make sure it doesn’t fall apart before we do."

The plane jolts slightly, and my stomach lurches. I didn't spend fifteen years of my life dedicated to practicing medicine to patch up cold-blooded assassins. I refused so many offers from high-ups asking for the same thing, just to be put on a plane at gunpoint to do the exact thing I swore I will never do. I press my lips together, forcing my mind to stay focused. 

There has to be a way out of this. 

The man beside me shifts, his voice dropping to something almost bored. 

"Make no mistake, Professor. You will do what we ask. If you refuse… well." A deliberate pause, stretching just long enough for my skin to crawl. "We’re quite experienced in making people… cooperative."

A chill scrapes down my spine, but I don’t let it show. I know exactly what he means, of course I do. I've been around men like him before, so I force my breathing steady. I keep my face blank and I decide to stay silent.

For now, silence is survival, and if they think I’ll go down easy, they haven’t done their research properly.

The base I'm dragged into is nestled deep in the mountains, buried beneath ice and stone where no one dares to look. Cold doesn’t even begin to describe it; the air bites like sharp razor blades slicing through my skin; my hospital scrubs are practically useless against it.

My feet barely touch the ground before the air is sucked out of me. My body convulses, shaking so violently that my teeth clatter. Every inhale burns my throat like I’m breathing in the very ice from the surface. I begin to think I'm not even going to make it inside, when someone shoves a bundle of clothing into my arms; a thick, insulated jacket, thermal gloves, sturdy boots. I don’t hesitate—I tug everything on, my fingers already stiff with frost.

The guards nod at one another, exchanging looks of quiet acknowledgment. I’m not shackled, no one is grabbing me, forcing me to my feet. In their eyes, I am an asset, a necessary tool. 

Good. I will try to use this to my advantage.

I feel my body reaching a somewhat healthy temperature as I am being taken more and more underground. The deeper we go, the more guards appear in the corners, next to the doors—they are everywhere. I can't even begin to comprehend what kind of horrors they must be guarding—at least until the door at the end of the corridor groans open, and the world tilts.

I have seen the worst of human suffering. Open chests, shattered skulls, intestines spilling onto the floor. I have peeled burned flesh from bone, held dying hands, seen life leave bodies in ways too violent to be poetic. I have witnessed agony, stitched it together, carved it out, buried it in the hollow spaces of my mind.

And yet.

And yet.

When they drag him in, something inside me shatters.

At first, my eyes can’t process what I’m looking at. A figure barely standing, hunched, trembling, a mass of exposed flesh and metal swaying between two guards who have to hold him up by brute force. He stumbles, his boots scraping against the floor. He's barely conscious. His head lolls forward, making all his damp hair cling to his gaunt, bruised face.

He breathes—or tries to. A wet, ragged gasp leaves his mouth, as if each inhale is a battle he’s losing.

Fucking hell.

He’s dying on his feet.

Mortifying cold sinks into my gut, as sharp as the wind outside. I ignore how my own hands shake and my throat tightens, and before I know it, I’m already assessing and diagnosing.

His skin is pallid, almost gray, lips cracked and tinged with blue—hypothermia. The deep bruising across his ribs, the uneven hitch of his breath—at least one fractured rib, likely more. The way his left leg drags slightly—hip injury? Nerve damage? His metal arm twitches and jerks at his side—malfunction, misfiring signals, nerve trauma in the shoulder.

He lifts his head slightly, which is when I'm met with his eyes. They're unfocused, but not empty—no. They hold horrors so severe it makes my stomach turn.

"Oh, don’t look so shocked, Professor," one of the men drawls. "It’s not like it feels anything."

Laughter ripples through the room. It makes me want to throw up.

The soldier sways, and no one moves to help him. Hell, they laugh at him like he is some kind of spectacle in a circus. My hands twich at my sides as I'm starting to realize what I've got myself dragged into.

This isn’t just suffering. This is torture. Systematic, calculated destruction. 

This is what happens when a body is kept alive not for the sake of living, but for the sake of being used and owned. When the person is carved out, reduced to something that breathes but does not live. I've seen it with assault survivors, people who's been trafficked, but what I'm looking at could never compare to that.

My breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as my throat tightens, my vision flat out rejecting the inhumane torture I'm witnessing. I don’t even realize I’m moving until a rough hand grabs my upper arm, yanking me back.

I had stepped toward him.

God—I had stepped toward him.

I don’t remember deciding to do so, it is just some instinct that had taken over; something so deeply ingrained in me as a doctor, as a human, that for a moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot who I was dealing with.

He sways again, his whole body trembling with overexhaustion and agonizing pain. The weight of his own existence is too much for him to bear, and still, no one is helping him.

I swallow, blinking rapidly, forcing the burn behind my eyes to stay put. 

Fucking hell, I will not cry. Not in front of them.

A sharp laugh suddenly cuts through the room, yanking me back to my unforgiving reality.

"Oh, look at that," one of them sneers. "Got yourself a little fan, Soldat."

Another chuckles. "Careful, Professor. It bites sometimes," he grins and leans closer to me. "But if you like it so much, it can also be trained to keep its mouth busy in… other ways."

I wrench my arm free from the guard’s grip, my jaw locking as they all burst out laughing. A sickening wave of horror crashes over me and I feel it like a punch to the gut. Good fucking God. My stomach churns so violently I have to swallow against the bile rising in my throat.

They’re still laughing like fucking idiots.

I glance at the soldier, like I need to prove to myself that this is some cruel joke, that this isn’t what it sounds like. But he doesn’t react, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t anything. He just barely exists, silent and still as a corpse, his head slightly bowed, his gaze locked somewhere far, far away. 

A tremor runs through my hands as my heart beats so loud in my ears, I'm convinced my brain is trying to shut out the stress. My vision tunnels and not from fear, but from something sharper, and I know right away that it's rage. Not even rage—it's all-consuming fury. 

I bite my tongue until it nearly bleeds, because what the absolute fuck am I supposed to do? Scream at them? Attack them? They’d drop me in an instant, put a bullet in my skull and find someone else; someone worse. Then he would just stay here trapped and used, in God fucking knows what sick ways.

I feel my breath shake as I force myself to move, to do something before they notice the way my hands tremble. I straighten my back, lock my jaw, and turn to the soldier once more. He's looking at me like I'm glowing.

"How much time do I have?"

The guard chuckles, shaking his head. "Efficient. I like that." He glances at the other men before looking back at me. "How long does it take to patch up the weapon, Professor?"

I clench my jaw, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. My gaze flickers back to the soldier—his body locked in place, his face a mask of empty obedience, but his pain is evident.

"I need a full assessment," I say, my voice clipped. "But from what I can see?" I exhale sharply, shaking my head. "This isn’t a patch job. This is a rebuild."

The smirk falls from his face. "Be more specific."

I lift my chin. "Four weeks. Maybe more."

His expression darkens, clearly unimpressed. "You have three."

A muscle jumps in my jaw. 

"Then you better pray he survives."

Dragon Sylus. I need him so bad

are sylus girlies okay?

In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS