#avengers gifs

[avengerscompound]

Jeremy Renner & Hailee Steinfeld as the Hawkeyes Hawkeye | S1:E4 - Partners am I right?

[swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters]

Idk about you guys but all I can see is wandanat in this gif

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If you're still up to the ask game:

I'm Not Your Problem Anymore with Bucky

I'm Not Your Problem Anymore

You put the parcel on the counter and push it across, not even looking at the recipient as you scan the code on the label. You confirm the pick-up as he clears his throat.

"I'm not your problem anymore," you say as that click in your ankle nearly trips you up.

"No, but I'm still yours," he lifts up the package you know he sent to himself. You turn away to file the receipt and that's when your leg shakes, "seems like you still have a few though."

[little-angel-oc]

My heart 🥹🤧

Hello, I would like to request 19. A Second Chance with Tony, please 😊 this "someone important from their past" is the reader. They dated when they were young, but reader had to move, but they never stopped loving each other... now reader is back and they meet again, they talk about their lives and start to reconnect... Tony invites her to spend Christmas together and she accepts, and Tony prepares Christmas with everything she loves just to see her happy, in the end they kiss and spend the night together (I know you don't write smut, but you can add some spicy things) and the next morning they make their relationship official again, and this time forever ❤️

SECOND CHANCE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes but nothing too descriptive

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The cold New York wind bites at your cheeks as you step out of the cab, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. The city is alive with December’s usual frenzy—twinkling lights strung between lampposts, store windows crowded with holiday displays, and the steady hum of a thousand conversations weaving through the streets. It's beautiful, in a way, but the sight of it doesn’t fill you with the usual seasonal warmth. There’s an ache deep in your chest, one that no amount of bright lights or carolers can thaw.

It’s been years. Almost ten, to be exact, since you’ve stepped foot in New York. A decade away, and yet it still feels like the city breathes in sync with your heartbeat. You left when you were twenty-three, thinking you’d be gone only for a few months, maybe a year at most. Life, as it turns out, had other plans. Now you’re back, but the thought of being here again fills you with more nerves than nostalgia. It’s not the city itself that haunts you—it’s what, or rather who, you left behind.

Your suitcase wheels clatter against the pavement as you pull it toward the apartment you rented. The holidays have turned every corner into a whirlwind of red and green, gold and silver, but your mind is elsewhere. You can feel it creeping up on you like a shadow, the memory of Tony Stark’s face when you said goodbye.

“I’m coming back, you know,” you’d told him back then, the words as fragile as the tears streaking your cheeks. “It’s just for a while. I have to help my mom get settled. You understand, don’t you?”

He’d nodded, but his silence had been deafening. The weight of it sat between you as you hugged him goodbye, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go too soon. And then you left, not knowing that “a while” would stretch into years, that the life you’d built with him would dissolve into memories.

You wonder if he’s the same person now, all these years later. If he still walks with that easy swagger, the cocky grin always threatening to crack his face in half. If he still talks like he’s three steps ahead of everyone else, like the world is his personal chessboard and he’s just having fun moving the pieces around. Or maybe he’s changed. Maybe the years have softened him, carved some of the arrogance out of his sharp edges. Or maybe he’s even sharper now, the weight of everything he's achieved since you left pressing harder on his shoulders.

You try not to think about it as you unpack, the simple routine of organizing your things grounding you for the first time all day. But no matter how many sweaters you fold, how many toiletries you arrange on the bathroom counter, you can’t shake the sense that this city, this moment, is leading you straight back to him.

It’s late afternoon when you decide to venture out again. Snow flurries are beginning to fall, dusting the sidewalks and piling up on window sills. You find yourself wandering without purpose, letting the city guide you. The streets feel familiar but different, like they’ve been rearranged slightly in your absence. You take it all in—the hum of the subway beneath your feet, the scent of roasted chestnuts wafting from a vendor’s cart, the laughter of children building snowmen in the park. It feels like home, and yet it doesn’t.

You’re not even sure how you end up at the Christmas market in Bryant Park. It’s bustling with holiday shoppers, the air thick with the scent of mulled wine and pine. You weave through the crowd, pausing now and then to admire the handmade ornaments or the glittering string lights overhead. It’s almost enough to distract you, but not quite.

You’re looking at a small booth selling intricate metalwork—ornaments shaped like snowflakes, reindeer, and stars—when you hear it. That voice. That unmistakable, sharp-edged, honey-smooth voice that’s haunted your dreams for years. Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you think you might have imagined it. But then you hear it again, clearer this time, cutting through the chatter around you.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat. And there he is.

Tony Stark stands a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek black coat, a scarf draped loosely around his neck. His hair is shorter than you remember, a touch of silver at the temples that wasn’t there before. But his eyes—their rich, whiskey-brown warmth—are exactly the same. They lock onto yours, widening slightly in surprise before something softer, something bittersweet, settles over his face.

“Y/N?” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s not sure if you’re real. “Is that…?”

You nod, your throat too tight to form words. The noise of the market seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, caught in the gravity of a moment you both thought would never come.

He takes a step closer, his breath visible in the cold air. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you were—God, how long has it been?”

“Ten years,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Almost.”

“Ten years,” he echoes, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. You look… you look good.”

“So do you,” you reply, and it’s not a lie. He does look good. Better than good. He looks like the kind of man who’s spent the last decade conquering the world, but there’s something else there too—something tired, maybe even lonely, that tugs at your heart.

The silence stretches between you, thick with everything you want to say but can’t. You don’t know where to start, don’t know how to condense ten years of absence into a single conversation. And then, as if sensing your hesitation, Tony speaks again.

“You’re back,” he says, his tone somewhere between a question and a statement.

You nod. “Just for a while. I’m… I’m not sure how long yet.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Well,” he says finally, “it’s good to see you. Really good.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You too, Tony.”

Another pause, and then he clears his throat, glancing at the booth behind you. “Are you shopping for ornaments?” he asks, his voice lighter now, almost casual. “Because, uh, I should warn you—some of these vendors are scammers. I mean, who pays fifty bucks for a metal snowflake?”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound breaking the tension between you. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you say. “Just looking.”

“Well, in that case…” He steps closer, his gaze softening. “Maybe I could buy you a coffee? Catch up? I mean, unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every rational part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea, that reopening this door will only lead to more heartache. But then you look at him—the way his eyes flicker with something like hope, the way he’s holding himself like he’s afraid you might disappear again—and you know you can’t say no.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Coffee sounds good.”

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that sends a warmth through you you haven’t felt in years. And just like that, you’re walking side by side through the snow-dusted streets, the weight of the past trailing behind you like a ghost.

The coffee shop is warm, its windows fogged from the contrast between the bitter cold outside and the cozy heat inside. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Tony insists on paying for the drinks, brushing off your protests with a lopsided grin and a comment about “old-fashioned chivalry.”

You find a small table near the back, the kind meant for two people to sit close, elbows almost brushing. The mugs between you steam faintly, but neither of you seems in a hurry to drink. Instead, you’re both looking at each other, trying to reconcile the people you’ve become with the people you once were.

“So,” Tony begins, leaning back in his chair. His hands wrap around his mug, but he doesn’t lift it. “Ten years. I feel like I should’ve prepared a slideshow or something, highlight all my achievements since the last time we saw each other.”

You chuckle, the sound soft and a little shaky. “I think everyone already knows your highlights, Tony. I mean, you’re everywhere. Stark Tower, the Avengers, the headlines. It’s not exactly subtle.”

His grin tilts, more boyish now, and you see the flicker of the man you once knew beneath the billionaire persona. “Yeah, well. I’ve been busy. You know me—can’t sit still. But what about you? What’s been going on in Y/N-land? I feel like I should’ve hired a PI just to keep track.”

You roll your eyes, taking a small sip of your coffee to stall for a moment. “Nothing that exciting, honestly. I spent a lot of time moving around. Different cities, different jobs. I stayed in Chicago for a while, then Boston. My mom moved again, so I went back for a bit to help her. Life just… kept happening, I guess.”

“You always did like to keep moving,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “But I thought you’d stay here. You said you’d be back.”

The words aren’t accusatory, but they hang between you like a ghost. You look down at your hands, tracing the edge of your mug with your finger. “I thought I would too. I didn’t plan for it to take so long. But every time I tried to come back, something else got in the way. And then so much time had passed, I didn’t know if it even mattered anymore.”

“It mattered,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze makes your breath hitch, but he pulls back quickly, leaning on humor like a crutch. “I mean, you missed out on a hell of a ride. Turns out, saving the world is a full-time gig.”

You laugh lightly, grateful for the change in tone. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been keeping busy, huh? Flying suits and alien invasions, not to mention the whole playboy billionaire thing. I’m surprised you even have time for coffee.”

“For you, I can make time,” he says without missing a beat, and there’s a flash of something mischievous in his grin that makes your heart do a little flip.

The conversation shifts after that, flowing more easily now that the initial awkwardness has passed. He tells you stories about the Avengers—ones that don’t make the news, the kind that leave you laughing so hard your sides hurt. You tell him about the small things he’s missed—your favorite city, the time you tried skydiving and almost chickened out, the stray cat you adopted and had to leave with your mom when you moved again. The minutes stretch into hours, the outside world disappearing as you fall into a rhythm that feels both new and achingly familiar.

Eventually, there’s a lull in the conversation, and Tony takes a sip of his now-cool coffee before setting the mug down. “So,” he says casually, though there’s a hint of tension in his voice. “Is there, uh… a guy in your life? Or a woman. Or anyone, really. Not that it’s any of my business, of course. Just… curious.”

The question catches you off guard, but the way he’s trying—and failing—to appear nonchalant is almost endearing. You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “No. There’s no one. I guess I’ve been too busy to really settle down.”

For a split second, you think you see relief flash across his face, but he hides it quickly, taking another sip of his coffee to cover his reaction. “Busy, huh? Yeah, I know the feeling. Sometimes it’s easier to focus on work than deal with all the… complications.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “What about you? Anyone special? Or is Tony Stark still the most eligible bachelor in New York?”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little self-deprecating. “No one special,” he admits, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Turns out, being a genius billionaire superhero doesn’t exactly make for a stable love life.”

“Shocking,” you tease, and he laughs again, the tension between you dissolving once more.

The two of you talk until the light outside begins to fade, the soft glow of the coffee shop’s string lights casting warm shadows over your faces. When you finally glance at the time, you’re surprised at how late it’s gotten.

“I should probably let you go,” you say reluctantly, though you don’t actually want to leave. “I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing that can’t wait. But if you’re in a rush, I won’t keep you.”

You both stand, the air between you suddenly charged with an unspoken tension. As you reach for your coat, Tony clears his throat, his tone shifting to something lighter. “Hey, before you go… can I, uh, get your number?”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips twitching in amusement. “Are you serious?”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “It’s just… you know, for old times’ sake. In case I need to call and complain about overpriced Christmas ornaments or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull your phone from your bag. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

He hands it over with a grin, and you quickly type in your number before handing it back. He glances at the screen as if to make sure it’s real, then pockets the phone with a satisfied smirk.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too,” you admit, your cheeks warming despite the cold.

You step outside together, the air sharp and cold against your skin. Snow has started falling again, the flakes catching in the glow of the streetlights. For a moment, neither of you moves, the world around you quiet and still.

“Well,” you say finally, pulling your scarf tighter. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet kind of hope. “I’ll see you around.”

And as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze lingering long after you’ve disappeared into the snowy night.

That evening, you’re lying in bed, bundled under layers of soft blankets as the city hums faintly outside your window. It’s a kind of stillness you haven’t felt in years—a quiet moment in a place that never really stops moving. Your phone is in your hand, the glow of the screen lighting up the dark room. You’re scrolling aimlessly, flipping through pictures of friends you haven’t seen in months, ads for holiday sales, and the occasional post about how magical Christmas in New York is.

Your thoughts drift back to the coffee shop, to Tony. The way his smile had felt like both a memory and something entirely new. You’d been nervous to see him again, worried that the years would’ve changed him into someone unrecognizable. But he was still Tony—sharp, witty, and magnetic in a way that made it impossible not to be drawn to him. And yet, there was something else there, too. A softness you didn’t expect.

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to process the strange, bittersweet day. Just as you’re about to set your phone down, it vibrates in your hand, the screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number. Your heart skips a beat as you unlock it, curiosity bubbling up.

Unknown Number Hey. Hope I didn’t screw this up already. It’s Tony, by the way. In case you know five other genius billionaire playboys who might randomly text you.

A laugh slips out before you can stop it, and you type back quickly.

You Hey, Tony. Took you long enough to text. I was starting to think you just wanted my number for your contacts collection.

The response comes almost instantly.

Tony What can I say? I like to keep people guessing. Besides, had to wait until I was sure I wouldn’t come across as desperate. How’s your evening?

You pause for a moment, then reply.

You Quiet. Just scrolling through my phone and pretending I’m tired enough to sleep.

Tony Exciting stuff. Let me guess—scrolling through pictures of old friends and feeling nostalgic? Or online shopping?

You Wow, you know me too well.

Tony Well, I did spend a good portion of my youth trying to figure you out. Some of it must’ve stuck.

The words send a ripple of warmth through you, and for a moment, you just stare at the screen. It’s strange, this feeling of slipping back into a rhythm with him. Familiar and unsettling all at once.

You Okay, your turn. What’s your evening like? Saving the world? Inventing something mind-blowing?

Tony Tempting, but no. I’m sitting in the workshop pretending I’m working while Dum-E tries to build a snowman out of scrap metal.

You Dum-E? Your robot is into holiday crafts?

Tony He’s been into crafts ever since I taught him to use a glue gun. Worst mistake of my life. Anyway, speaking of holiday cheer…

The ellipsis hangs there for a moment, and you wait, your fingers hovering over the screen, wondering where this is going.

Tony What are you doing on Christmas?

Your brow furrows as you read the text. Christmas? You’re about to type something vague about not having plans when another message pops up.

Tony Before you say you’re busy or it’d be weird, hear me out. I’m having a party. Nothing too crazy—just some friends, a lot of food, good music. You should come.

Your first instinct is to hesitate. Spending Christmas with Tony? It sounds… complicated. And risky. Too much like stepping into a world you’ve worked hard to keep at arm’s length.

You I don’t know, Tony. It might be a little…

You don’t finish the sentence, but he seems to understand anyway. His next message comes fast, as if he’s already anticipated your reaction.

Tony Awkward? Intense? Weird? Yeah, maybe. But it’s not just the two of us. Lots of people. A proper party, I promise. Consider it a chance to mingle with people who probably have weirder lives than yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. You can almost hear his voice in the words, the playful tone that somehow manages to coax you into considering things you wouldn’t otherwise.

You Lots of people, huh? Not just a sneaky excuse to lure me into some one-on-one reunion?

Tony If I wanted one-on-one, I’d just invite you to dinner. But no, this is legit. There will be other people, music, fancy hors d’oeuvres, the works.

You stare at the screen, weighing your options. A part of you knows this is a bad idea—that being around Tony, especially during the holidays, could stir up feelings you’ve tried to bury for years. But another part of you—the part that remembers the way his eyes lit up when he saw you earlier—can’t help but want to say yes.

You Okay. I’ll come.

His reply is almost instant, and you can practically see the grin behind the words.

Tony Good choice. I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

For a moment, you don’t respond, letting the conversation linger there as you try to process what you’ve just agreed to. Then, finally, you type one last message.

You Goodnight, Tony.

Tony Night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.

You set your phone on the nightstand, your chest feeling oddly tight. The room is quiet again, but your thoughts are anything but. You roll onto your side, pulling the blankets closer as you stare at the faint glow of the city lights filtering through your curtains.

What have you gotten yourself into?

The next morning, you wake up to another text from Tony, this time with the details for the party. It’s set for Christmas at his penthouse—a place you’ve only seen in magazines and on television, its sleek, modern lines standing in sharp contrast to the traditional warmth of the holiday season.

For the rest of the day, you try not to think about it too much, but it’s impossible to push the thought of him out of your mind. Every time you catch sight of your phone, you half expect another message from him, something teasing or clever to remind you that he’s still there, waiting on the edge of your thoughts.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re already second-guessing your decision. But a part of you knows you won’t back out. Not now. Not after the way his voice sounded in that coffee shop, like seeing you again was something he didn’t even realize he’d been hoping for.

And maybe you’ve been hoping for it too.

The snow crunches faintly beneath your boots as you step out of the cab, pulling your coat tighter against the biting Christmas night air. Tony’s penthouse looms above you, a sleek, towering testament to his larger-than-life personality, its sharp edges softened by the glow of festive lights from the surrounding buildings. You clutch your purse in one hand, the other tightening around the strap of your coat as you take a deep breath.

You’ve spent hours deciding what to wear, second-guessing every choice. Eventually, you settled on a deep green dress that flows like water when you move, its simplicity understated yet elegant. It feels festive without being too much, but standing here now, you wonder if you’ve overdone it—or maybe underdone it. You remind yourself this is just a party. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yet your pulse quickens as you step inside the lobby and take the elevator up, the mirrored walls reflecting back the nervous anticipation in your eyes. When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, you’re greeted by a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the New York skyline, a breathtaking view that momentarily makes you forget where you are.

You cross the polished floor to the massive front door, hesitating for a second before knocking. The sound echoes faintly, and you clutch your coat tighter, waiting.

The door swings open a moment later, and there he is—Tony Stark, leaning casually against the frame, a glass of something amber in his hand and a soft, almost shy smile playing on his lips. He’s wearing a dark suit, tailored to perfection, with no tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, giving him an air of effortless charm that feels so quintessentially him.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, stepping over the threshold and glancing around. The penthouse is warm and inviting, filled with soft golden light and the faint sound of jazz playing somewhere in the background.

And empty.

Your steps falter as you realize there’s no hum of conversation, no laughter, no clinking glasses or distant chatter of guests. The space is completely silent, save for the music.

“Tony…” You turn back to him, narrowing your eyes. “Where is everyone?”

He looks at you for a moment, then shrugs, his smile turning slightly sheepish. “Okay, so, full disclosure: there’s no party.”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up, disbelief mingling with suspicion. “You said—”

“I know what I said.” He cuts you off gently, raising a hand. “But if I’d told you it was just going to be the two of us, you wouldn’t have come. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

You blink, trying to process his words, unsure whether to feel flattered or annoyed. “So you lied to me?”

“Technically, yes.” He winces, but his tone is light, almost teasing. “But can you really blame me? I mean, would you have said yes if I’d told you the truth?”

You open your mouth, ready to retort, but the answer dies in your throat because he’s right. You wouldn’t have said yes.

Instead, you sigh, slipping your coat off and handing it to him when he holds out his hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him.

As you step further into the penthouse, your initial irritation begins to ebb, replaced by a quiet sense of wonder. The space is decorated beautifully, but not in a flashy, over-the-top way. There’s a massive Christmas tree near the windows, its branches adorned with delicate white lights and ornaments in muted gold and silver tones. A fire crackles in the sleek modern fireplace, filling the room with a cozy warmth. The scent of pine and something faintly sweet—maybe cinnamon—lingers in the air.

It’s not what you expected.

It’s… perfect.

“Wow,” you murmur, glancing around. “This is… not what I thought it would be.”

“Good or bad?” he asks, watching you carefully as he sets your coat on a nearby chair.

“Good,” you admit, your voice soft. “Really good.”

You walk toward the tree, letting your fingers brush lightly over the soft needles of the branches. It feels almost surreal, being here like this, the quiet intimacy of the space at odds with everything you know about Tony Stark.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, breaking the silence. “Because I may or may not have gone overboard with the food.”

You turn back to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You? Overboard? Never.”

He laughs, gesturing for you to follow him into the dining area. The table is set for two, covered in a crisp white cloth and adorned with simple, elegant decorations—a few candles, a small vase of red and white flowers, and plates of food that look like they belong in a five-star restaurant.

“Tony…” You glance at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Did you do all this?”

He shrugs, leaning against the edge of the table with that same boyish grin that used to drive you crazy. “Well, I had some help. But yeah. It’s Christmas, Y/N. I figured, if you’re going to spend it with me, I should at least make it special.”

There’s something in his tone, something unguarded, that makes your chest tighten. You glance around the room again, taking in the details—the understated decorations, the carefully chosen music, the food that looks suspiciously like some of your old favorites.

It hits you then.

This isn’t just a random attempt at holiday cheer. Everything about this night feels… familiar. Comfortable. Like he’s gone out of his way to make it something you’d like.

But you push the thought aside.

“Wow,” you say finally, sitting down at the table. “I’m impressed. You actually know how to do Christmas.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He sits across from you, pouring a glass of wine and sliding it across the table. “I’m a man of many talents.”

The evening unfolds slowly, the tension between you easing with every passing moment. The food is incredible—some dishes you recognize from years ago, others entirely new—and the conversation flows easily, the years you spent apart slipping away like they were never there.

At some point, you stop caring about the fact that he lied to get you here. Instead, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the laughter, the way his eyes light up when he teases you about how much you’re enjoying the dessert.

It’s only later, when the plates are cleared and the fire has burned down to embers, that you realize how much the night has meant to you. Tony pours you another glass of wine and sits back, his expression softer now, his usual bravado dimmed by something quieter, something real.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, his voice low.

“So am I,” you admit, surprising yourself with the honesty of your words.

The fire in the penthouse burns low now, the soft glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. The two of you sit on the couch, side by side but not quite touching, a bottle of wine nearly empty on the coffee table. The jazz music from earlier has faded into silence, leaving only the occasional crackle of the fire and the quiet murmur of your voices.

You’ve been talking for hours—about everything and nothing. The way the city has changed since you left. The kind of tech he’s been working on. The new hobbies you’ve picked up, the old ones you’ve let slip. It’s easy, the rhythm of your conversation, the laughter and teasing slipping in naturally, like no time has passed. But as night falls, the mood shifts, turning softer, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

Tony leans back, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, warm and thoughtful, and then he speaks, his voice quieter now, almost wistful.

“Do you remember that time we got caught in the rain?”

You blink, startled by the sudden shift in the conversation. “Caught in the rain?”

“Yeah.” He smiles faintly. “We’d gone to that outdoor concert—you wore that sundress, the one with the little flowers on it. You were so mad at me for dragging you out there in the first place.”

A laugh escapes you, unbidden. “That’s because you said it was going to be a ‘relaxing evening.’ You forgot to mention the part where we’d be standing in a muddy field with about a thousand drunk strangers.”

“Hey, it was a great concert,” he counters, feigning indignation. “But then the sky opened up, and it started pouring.”

You shake your head, the memory coming back to you in vivid flashes—the cold sting of the rain, the way the crowd scattered, the ridiculousness of it all. “I was so mad. I wanted to leave, but you—”

“—grabbed your hand and dragged you into the middle of it,” he finishes, a hint of mischief in his voice. “You were furious at first. But then you started laughing. Do you remember that?”

You do. You remember the way the rain plastered your hair to your face, the way Tony had spun you around in the mud, completely unbothered by the downpour. You remember the way he’d looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name then but you understand all too well now.

“I couldn’t help it,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were so ridiculous, dancing around like that.”

“I was trying to impress you,” he says, his voice light but his eyes serious. “Always trying to impress you.”

The weight of his words settles between you, and for a moment, the air feels heavier, charged with something unspoken. You glance down at your hands, your fingers toying with the stem of your wineglass, and then you look back at him.

“What about you?” you ask softly. “Do you ever think about it? About… us?”

“Are you kidding?” He leans forward now, his eyes locked on yours. “I think about it all the time. About you. About everything we had.”

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you can’t speak. The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty, is almost too much.

“Tony…”

“I screwed it up,” he says, cutting you off gently. “I know I did. I let you walk away, and I’ve regretted it ever since. But God, Y/N, we were good together, weren’t we? Even when we were fighting, even when we were driving each other crazy—we were good.”

You nod, your throat tight. “We were.”

The silence stretches again, and then he laughs softly, the sound tinged with both fondness and sadness. “Do you remember that time we tried to cook dinner together?”

You laugh, the memory bursting out of you unbidden. “Oh God. The lasagna.”

“I still don’t know how we managed to set the fire alarm off three times,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, who burns noodles? Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”

“It’s not impossible if you’re you,” you tease, and he grins, that boyish, heart-stopping grin that you’ve never quite been able to forget.

“Fair point,” he concedes. “But hey, it wasn’t a total disaster. We ended up eating cereal on the kitchen floor, and you still called it a ‘memorable evening.’”

“Because it was,” you say, your voice softer now. “Not because of the food, but because of you.”

The words hang there, heavy and unguarded, and you can see the way they hit him, the way his expression shifts, the teasing replaced by something deeper.

“And then there was that weekend in the cabin,” he says after a moment, his voice dropping lower. “Just the two of us. No distractions. No one else.”

Heat rises to your cheeks as the memory floods back—the way he’d looked at you that weekend, the way he’d touched you, the way you’d both let yourselves forget the rest of the world existed.

“Tony…” you begin, but your voice falters as his gaze locks onto yours, dark and searching.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every damn day.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as the distance between you seems to shrink without either of you moving. His hand brushes yours, tentative at first, and then firmer when you don’t pull away.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

You shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Tony. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Maybe not then,” he says, his thumb stroking lightly over your knuckles. “But now… now, I don’t want to waste another second.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as desperate as it is tender. You freeze for a heartbeat, the shock of it coursing through you—and then you’re kissing him back, your hands tangling in his hair as you pour years of longing and unspoken words into that single moment.

The world falls away as the kiss deepens, his hands sliding up your arms to cup your face, pulling you closer like he’s afraid you might disappear. You shift, your body pressing against his as his fingers trail down your back, igniting sparks wherever they touch.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together as you cling to each other.

“Are you sure about this?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he says, his voice firm.

He stands, pulling you to your feet, and then he’s guiding you toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving yours. The door closes softly behind you, and then the night dissolves into a blur of heat and urgency and the kind of passion you thought you’d lost forever.

Tony is everywhere—his lips tracing a path down your neck, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, his voice low and breathless in your ear as he murmurs your name like a prayer. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel as he worships you with a fervor that makes your heart ache.

He takes his time, his touch reverent as if he’s memorizing you all over again, rediscovering the parts of you he thought he’d lost. And when he finally claims you, it’s like coming home—familiar and electric all at once, your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

The night stretches on, a tangle of limbs and whispered words and stolen kisses, until you’re both spent, lying tangled together in the soft glow of the city lights streaming through the window.

As you drift off to sleep in his arms, his hand resting over your heart, you can’t help but think that maybe, this is the start of something new. Something worth holding on to.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is warmth. Tony’s body is curled around yours, his arm draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling against your back in a slow, steady rhythm. The faint scent of his cologne lingers on the sheets, mixing with the hint of sleep-warmed skin. For a moment, you lie there with your eyes closed, letting the quiet contentment settle over you like a blanket.

When you shift slightly, his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy with sleep.

You smile, turning your head to glance back at him. “Morning.”

His eyes blink open, soft and warm in the morning light filtering through the windows. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he looks at you, his hair delightfully tousled and his expression free of his usual quick-witted guard.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his hand brushing the curve of your hip beneath the sheets.

“Better than I have in years,” you admit, your voice soft.

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin. “Because I plan to make sure you wake up like this every morning from now on.”

You laugh, a light, teasing sound. “Confident, are we?”

“Always,” he says, his grin widening as he shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you.

The morning stretches lazily between you, filled with quiet laughter and gentle touches. His hand traces idle patterns along your back as he tells you about the ridiculous amount of effort he put into planning last night, and you tease him for going all out while secretly marveling at the thoughtfulness behind it all.

“You really thought wine and a Christmas tree would win me over?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

He smirks, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe a little.”

His fingers brush your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his. “You’re impossible,” you say, your voice softening.

“And you love it,” he counters, his grin turning mischievous.

Before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss—slow and sweet, yet with a simmering heat that has your heart racing. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the warmth of the morning light.

Much later, when the morning is well underway and the coffee you promised to make has been forgotten entirely, you find yourselves curled up on the couch again, his arm slung over your shoulders as you lean against him. The city hums faintly beyond the windows, but inside, the world feels still, as if time itself has paused just for the two of you.

It’s Tony who breaks the silence, his voice softer than usual. “So… last night. This morning.”

You glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want this to be just a one-night thing, Y/N. I don’t want to go back to pretending I don’t need you in my life. Because the truth is, I do. I always have.”

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you’ve both left unsaid for so long.

“Tony…”

He shifts, turning to face you more fully. “I know it won’t be easy,” he says, his voice steady now. “We’ve both got our lives, our responsibilities. But I’m not letting anything—or anyone—get in the way this time. No moving, no excuses. Just us.”

Your throat tightens, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. “You mean that?”

“With everything I’ve got,” he says without hesitation.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you search his face, looking for any hint of doubt. But there’s none. Only raw, unguarded honesty.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say, your voice trembling. “Not ever.”

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Stay. Be with me. For real this time. No running. No hiding. Just us.”

The sheer simplicity of his words, the certainty behind them, leaves you breathless. You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away, his touch impossibly gentle.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Okay.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, one that lights up his entire expression. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid you might change your mind.

“You won’t regret this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple.

“I know I won’t,” you reply, your voice muffled against his chest.

It’s sometime later, after more laughter and kisses and whispered promises, that the air between you shifts again, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more urgent.

Tony’s fingers trail down your arm, his touch light as a feather but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, his hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you into his lap.

“You know,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and teasing, “I don’t think we ever properly celebrated our reunion.”

You laugh softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. “And what exactly do you suggest?”

He grins, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes as his hands slide up your back. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again, his lips moving with a fervor that leaves you breathless. The world narrows down to the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he pulls you closer as if he can’t get enough of you.

He stands, lifting you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist, his lips never leaving yours as he carries you back toward the bedroom.

The morning gives way to a blur of heat and passion, of whispered words and tangled sheets and the kind of closeness you’ve both been craving for far too long. Tony is everywhere—his hands, his lips, the low, gravelly sound of your name on his tongue sending shivers through you.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together once more, the morning sun streaming through the windows as you catch your breath. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, and you can’t help but smile, your heart full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

You glance up at him, your fingers brushing lightly over his cheek. “So did I.”

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’ve found your way back home. And this time, you’re never letting go.

[asgardswinter]

Wade is all of us

[waltermis]

I miss them 🥹🥲

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[bondedcloud]

The Marvels

“Oh captain, my captain”.

Still can’t get over with their chemistry and I miss them already !!

[creelarke]

Gonna tell my kids these are their great grandparents during World War II

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Winter Soldier + Choking kink + Unprotected sex + His first orgasm in years, make it rough, violent, sexy. 🥰

thank you Shannon. 🫶🏻 you naughty beastie.

Caught Myself A Cute Little Doll » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Female Reader

Summary: The Winter Soldier caught himself a cute little doll.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, violence, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, rough sex, metal arm kink, size kink, praise kink, hair pulling, choking, tit slapping, crying during sex, pet names

A/N: @katherineswritingsblog and I were talking about this and she dropped it in my ask box🥵❤️‍🔥 she also provided the gif for it🩷

A/N #2: I used Google translate for the Russian translations. I’m sorry if I got anything wrong.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You jumped on the Winter Soldier’s back and put him in a head lock. His metal arm reached back and easily threw you off of him. You groaned in pain when you hit the ground. You lifted your head to see him walking towards you with a knife in his right hand. You quickly got on your feet and got into your fighting position.

“You wanna fight dirty? We’ll fight dirty.” You said. “No weapons. We’re going to use our fists.” You tell him.

“You’re gonna wish you didn’t say that, кукла.” The Winter Soldier says, smirking behind his mask.

He put his knife back in the holster and got into fighting position. You threw the first punch, missing due to him dodging your punch. You threw another one, punching his mask and made it fall off of his face. You stared at him, admiring his features. You didn’t know the Winter Soldier was hot.

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when he punched you in the face. You hissed in pain and bent over, holding the part of your face he punched. Normally you can take a punch, but that one hurt like hell. A whimper left your lips when his hand grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head up.

“We’re not done yet, кукла.” He says.

He threw you back against the wall, making you fall to the floor. He walked over to you and bent down, wrapped his metal hand around your throat and pulled you up, pinning you against the wall. You waited for him to throw more punches, but he didn’t. The Winter Soldier couldn’t help but look at the way your mission suit looks like on your body, hugging your curves just right. He couldn’t help but wonder what you look like without it on. He went to unzip it, but you instinctively smacked his hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You asked.

The Winter Soldier didn’t listen. He unzipped your suit all the way, revealing your black lace bra and panties to him.

“Looks like I caught myself a cute little кукла.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m not your кукла.” You practically hissed.

“You will be by the time I’m done with you.” He says huskily.

He took your mission suit the rest of the way off, dropping it on the floor. He reached a hand behind your back, expertly unclamping your bra and letting it fall off of your chest. The Winter Soldier licked his lips at the sight of your bare breasts. He brought his right hand up to your breasts, rubbing his fingers against your skin before smacking one of your breasts to make it jiggle, making you hiss in pain and your eyes water. He did it again with your other one, making you hiss in pain again.

His right hand found its way to your panties, ripping them off and shoved the ruined material in the pocket of his tactical pants. His metal hand let go of your throat so he can unbutton and unzip his tactical pants. You took the opportunity to get your breathing under control due to how tight his metal hand was squeezing your throat.

You watched him pull his hard cock out of his boxers. His tip was leaking with precum. He’s big. The Winter Soldier’s hands got a good grip on your hips and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He reached a hand down to stroke his cock a couple times before lining it at your tight entrance. He slid his cock inside of you without warning. He didn’t even let you adjust to his size. The stretch of his cock stung, but it also felt good.

You got a good grasp on his shoulders when he started thrusting at a fast pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth fell open. Your head felt back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel every vein and every inch of his cock.

While you were in your little world, the Winter Soldier was in his own. He can’t remember the last time he had sex. What he does know that it feels amazing. He sped up his thrusts, fucking you at a rough and violent pace. You already know that you’re going to be sore after this, but you couldn’t care less in the slightest about it.

He kissed along your shoulders and up to the side of your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You moaned when his teeth bit your skin hard enough for a hickey, marking you as his.

Your nails dug into the material of his tactical vest the rougher he fucked you. His cock was hitting all of the right spots perfectly, making a pornographic moan leave your lips. The rougher his thrusts got, your eyes watered more. You didn’t even realize tears rolling down your cheeks. That urged the Winter Soldier on. The sight of you crying on his cock made him fuck you at a relentless pace. You quickly became a crying mess. That’s when the pleasure became unbearable. You weren’t sure how much you could take.

“Pl-Please slow down a little.” You pleaded, trying to reason with him.

“No.” Is all he said.

You whined. That earned you his metal hand around your throat again, giving it a squeeze.

“Quit fucking whining and take what I give you.” He practically growls.

You whimpered and nodded your head. His metal hand remained around your throat. He continued to fuck you violently. Your pussy clenched around his cock when he hit your sweet spot. A loud moan left your lips and your nails dug more in his tactical vest.

“Fuck…” He moans. “I should’ve just fucked you instead of fighting you.” He says, followed by a grunt.

“Why didn’t you?” You sassed.

“Don’t fucking sass me, little girl.” He growls. “Sass me again and I won’t let you cum.” He says.

You quickly dropped the sassy act. You should’ve known better than to sass him, but you did it anyway.

His right hand left your hip and found its way to your clit, blindly finding it. He found it with ease. His fingers applied pressure on your clit and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock again.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” He huskily says. “Did fighting me make your pussy wet?” He asks.

“Mhmm, yes!” You say more in a gasp.

The Winter Soldier chuckles to himself. He continues to rub your clit as he fucked you faster. Your legs began to shake against his waist. The pleasure became more unbearable than it was a moment ago. You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last.

“I’m gonna cum!” You whimpered.

“Hold it.” He demands.

“But-” You shut your mouth when he gave you a warning look.

“I said hold it.” He repeats.

You whimpered, feeling your pussy become sensitive due to how rough he was fucking you and his fingers rubbing your clit. Your legs continued to tremble against his waist. Tears were streaming down your face at this point.

The Winter Soldier felt his cock twitch in your pussy, feeling his orgasm building up quickly. His first orgasm in years. His thrust became sloppy the closer he got to his orgasm. Before either of you knew it, he came inside of you, painting your walls white. A white ring of cum formed at the base of his cock.

“Cum.” He says, finally giving you permission.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan left your lips when you came. You came so hard that you soaked the front of his tactical pants. He smacked your breasts a few times as he fucked you through your orgasm. His thrusts came to a halt. He slowly pulled his cock out of your pussy, making you whine at the loss of his cock inside of you.

He put you back on your feet. Your legs were so wobbly that you fell to the floor, leaning your back against the wall. You sat here panting and stared up at him, watching him put his cock back in his boxers and zip and button his tactical pants. He crouched down in front of you, his metal hand grasping your jaw. He kissed you roughly, making you moan against his lips. He pulled away from your lips and stood up, leaving without saying a word. You sat on the floor naked with his cum dripping out of your pussy as you caught your breath.

You finally stood up and put your bra and mission suit back on. You were left without panties due to the Winter Soldier ripping them off of you and putting them in his pocket. You walked out of the room, making your way outside of the building.

The Winter Soldier watched you from a distance, smirking to himself. He knows this isn’t going to be a one time thing and you knew it too. He’s going to see his cute little кукла real soon.

🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾

-Bucky’s Doll

[sahind]

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE (2024) Directed by Shawn Levy

[avengerscompound]

Clint Barton

Hawkeye | S1:E6 - So This is Christmas

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bucky Barnes + Save Me From Myself

Save Me From Myself

"Do you know how many people will get hurt if you don't stay," he rasps.

You know but you don't know if you can care anymore. You pull the door shut behind you without looking back. You hear him thump the other side.

You know he'll hurt you the most if you stay.

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"