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paniniirae · 5 months

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Married | Part II

LINK TO PART ONE

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.1K words

FILTHY SMUT 18+ ONLY. oral (m and f receiving), dubcon, alcohol makes consent messy, brutal sex, blackout drunk, bad media coverage, lingerie, exhibitionism (a little), they’re both terrible for each other in the best way possible, possessiveness <3 this one gets a bit dark.

Married, back by popular demand. hope it’s okay. i worked hard, i’m a bit nervous. let me know what you thought. requests always open.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

He inhaled and set his sights towards his next objective. Already leaning in, Coriolanus pulled [Y/N]’s earlobe between his lips tantalizingly. “Now, I seem to recall being promised a blowjob, my Darling.”

[Y/N] sighed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten.”

Coriolanus smirked, inches from her face. “I never forget a promise.” He muttered.

The driver pulled up in front of them with his car and Coriolanus pulled [Y/N] inside. [Y/N] put her head on Coriolanus’ shoulder instead of putting on her seatbelt for the short drive home. She was drunk enough not to care if she was touching him, or if he was touching her. Coriolanus was touching her. He was touching her too much already at her thighs and hips. The pair of them had already broken the touch barrier that evening, but her brain was too loopy to try to push any kind of new/old boundary.

[Y/N] blinked heavily. She was able to tell that Coriolanus was already becoming frustrated with the bulk of tulle that was her black gown. It was funny for an engagement party when she thought about it, since it stood in stark contrast to her crisp white wedding gown. Coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out how to touch her right under all the fabric as he had then they were standing earlier.

“Is your wedding dress going to be easier to handle?” Coriolanus said into the back of her ear. “This one is starting to get on my nerves.”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re not ‘pposed to see it til you see it at the alter.” She giggled sadly.

Coriolanus frowned. “Ancient superstition,” he said. “I’m not seeing it anyway. You’d be telling me about it. It’s different.”

“Nice try.”

Coriolanus’ frown deepened as he rolled his icy blue ice. “May I ask you something else, then?”

“It depends.” [Y/N] said clearly. Too clearly, really. That was the problem with drunk people, they knew they were drunk, but they tried to prove to everyone around them that they weren’t.

Coriolanus laughed at her expense. She was behaving like a child. He found it equal parts charming and frustrating. “Have you ever given a blowjob before?” He asked too loudly for [Y/N]’s liking.

“Coriolanus!” She gasped, smacking his arm.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to strike me. Haven’t we had enough of that for one night?”

[Y/N] hated Coriolanus. He made her blood boil. “What does it matter?” She growled.

“I was curious if you had offered because it was a matter of superior ability, or because that was the only thing you had to offer.”

“You’re calling me desperate!”

“I wasn’t specifically, but since we both agree that it’s true…”

“All this was shaping up to be halfway tolerable, and you open your big mouth again. Fuck you!”

“Yeah, I know. You fucking me is what I was aiming for. Yes or no on the blowjob thing? I was assuming you had, if it makes any difference.”

[Y/N] paused. She had given a blowjob. Quite a few, actually. They were very convenient for getting out of a bad situation fast. She didn’t answer. [Y/N] still didn’t have the courage to say that in front of the driver.

“You can say yes. I know you’re not a virgin.” Coriolanus said bluntly.

Coriolanus would know that. Prior to their engagement, it was true that [Y/N] had pulled Coriolanus in for a quick fuck at a University party. She was shocked that he implied he even remembered that for as drunk as she recalled him being. [Y/N] wondered if the two of them would only ever be able to love each other under the influence.

“Can this conversation wait a few moments, we’re almost home.” [Y/N] replied.

“You didn’t have much of a problem back at the party in front of damn near everyone that’s ever known you. Is one driver going to make a difference?”

“FINE!” [Y/N] snapped. “Fine. I have, I give a decent blowie. Happy?”

Coriolanus smiled an uncharacteristically wide grin. The driver coughed slightly and loosened his tie. [Y/N] would have been incredibly embarrassed if she had any dignity left. Coriolanus grinned even wider at his driver’s behavior. His new favorite pass time was seeing how far he was capable of pushing [Y/N] to do whatever he wanted. So far, so good. Her initial resistance before her moment of breaking and behaving even worse than himself is what made this all the more fun.

The driver pulled up in front of the steps to their city apartment. Coriolanus gathered [Y/N]’s long forgotten shoes from the car’s floor. The driver got out to open the door for [Y/N]. Ever the gentleman publicly, Coriolanus ran around the side of the car to get it faster. He helped his fiancée out of the car. A Herculean task when you consider the alcohol in her system and the weight of all the fabric in her ballgown. “Come on, Darling,” he said, yanking her somehow elegantly towards the stairs, “we have business to attend to.”

Coriolanus helped her up the stairs and into their apartment. It was easier than it had been on the way out in those deathtrap heels he had purchased her.

Faintly, [Y/N] heard the door snap shut behind her and the deadbolt click resolutely. She leaned up against the wall. Coriolanus left her field of vision for a moment. When he re-entered her sights, [Y/N] blinked up at him. “Hi.” She said.

Coriolanus smirked at her curiously. “Hello.” He replied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” [Y/N] started. She took a clumsy step towards Coriolanus and grabbed the lapels of his coat for support once she could reach him. “You’re quite pretty,” she said. Coriolanus began a laugh. “No! Don’t. Don’t do that. I mean, you’re a very attractive man. You are. Too bad that you’re—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Coriolanus cut in with a scoff. “Here, let me help you,” he pulled her in closer. His hands moved nimbly down her back to pop open one button after the other on her dress while still allowing her to support herself against his front. For the first time, Coriolanus didn’t care that much if she wrinkled his clothes. When the majority of the buttons were undone, her dress slid down her body and landed in a large heap at her feet. What was left under the dress was [Y/N] in no bra (which Coriolanus had not expected, even under the strapless gown) and alarmingly red lace panties, stockings and garters (also unexpected). “I… Wow,” He said cooly. His eyes raked hungrily down her body. Coriolanus had never seen so much of it at once before. “Is there a bra that goes with this?”

“Mhmm,” [Y/N] nodded shyly.

“Hm, I think I would like to see it sometime. This isn’t half bad, though,” He said. He could Coriolanus’ large hands his hands slid down her chest. His hands held her breasts firmly. His eyes widen watching her nipples pebble under the touch of his thumbs. “Why’d you wear this?”

The lingerie wasn’t the most stunning set he had ever seen—it seemed more practical than anything else— though, he could fix that. Coriolanus felt the crotch of his pants tighten at the prospect, knowing that she was already into wearing such things. He was going to call for a lingerie catalog in the morning and buy all of it.

“It’s most of what I wear. I—I like it.”

“I’ll remember,” Coriolanus nodded. She was confident he would remember. She probably wouldn’t remember saying it, though.

Coriolanus stared down at their hardwood floors. He hated hardwood. It creaked too much and only looked good with an abundance of maintenance. Coriolanus wanted [Y/N] to suck him off as soon as possible and figured that she would probably be appreciative of getting it over with faster, but his mind was racing thinking about the unsightly bruises the hardwood entryway would leave on her knees.

Then the bedroom had the issue of the rug and the rugburn that would give. Further, which bedroom would they go to? Coriolanus hated that [Y/N] insisted on staying in her own room. He would have to fix that. She was clearly just as exciting as he had recalled from childhood, it had merely taken them both a moment to get to that level of vulnerability with each other. Coriolanus decided to lead [Y/N] to his bedroom. He also decided he would insist she kneel on a pillow. He hated the look of bruised knees. It reminded him of the war.

While he pulled her along, he glanced down at her. “The tears at the party, were those real?”

[Y/N] laughed in surprise at the question. “No! Well, maybe twenty percent, if that? Because once I get started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Really?” He replied, leaning her against his open doorway. “You’re sick. I’m rather impressed. That takes a lot of… What’s the word?”

“You said ruthless earlier.”

“Yes, that too, but… It’s brilliant that you can do that at the drop of a hat. Very valuable to you. Scary for me, I’m sure.”

“… Thanks. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” [Y/N] replied dryly. She had never seen Coriolanus’ bedroom before. He had seen hers. Coriolanus thought he could barge in whenever he desired. His own room was previously off limits. [Y/N] figured it wouldn’t have been off limits had she wanted to have sex with him before now.

The room was clean, neat and lacking personal items almost entirely. There was a red rug, a vase of white roses on the nightstand and a small desk for when he took his work to bed with him. The bed, specifically, was enormous. It was piled high with pillow after pillow and the softest white sheets she could imagine. It made the bed she had spent all these weeks in look like a joke.

“Yes, as I recall, you were the fucking… crybaby in school until we were fourteen. And you mean to tell me it was fake?” Coriolanus threw his least favorite pillow on the floor for [Y/N]’s knees with a hushed thump.

“I mean, yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the attention.” [Y/N] said plainly. They both knew she wouldn’t have been so open about it without the alcohol, but boy, did Coriolanus desire this version of her. He saw her in that moment, standing mostly nude in his bedroom. He saw her for the first time for what she was. She was real. [Y/N] was a real person made up of a mess of contradictions. She was a very calculating person. Coriolanus saw that ruthlessness and that icy deadness to her. That was exactly the thing he thought he could love the most about her.

“Freak. What else can you do?”

“I dunno. I just… Do what gets me ahead. Don’t we all, Coriolanus? And, uh, when I see someone I don’t like, instead of saying ‘good to see you’ when they say ‘good to see you,’ I say, ‘yes! To see you!’ And I kind of mumble so it’s not obvious that I’m incapable of saying ‘oh yeah, nice to see you.’ You know I hate pleasantries.”

“Freak,” Coriolanus repeated with a smile. “No pleasantries then, get on your knees.”

[Y/N] walked the few steps towards towards the pillow he had thrown down and sank to her knees on it. She was clumsy when she was drinking, Coriolanus thought. More often than not, she was violently ungraceful more often than not. Coriolanus had rarely seen her be graceful at all. He liked that. He thought he’d moments of clumsiness and carelessness were alluring. [Y/N] looked helpless to him sometimes and he admired that. He wanted to be the thing that held together her broken and unsure nature. He thought of all the things he might have to help her accomplish in their future shared life together.

Coriolanus could see himself reaching easily for things she could not reach in the kitchen. He could see her being unable to lace up her winter boots due to the tightness of her dress, so he would get on his knees and do it for her. If she tripped on the sidewalk, he would pull her to her feet. If [Y/N] was too drunk to get up the stairs, he would carry her. When some strange man dared to look at her the wrong way, Coriolanus would kill him. She seemed so fragile and needy to him. Coriolanus loved that.

He needed her to need him. He wanted to be the only thing she ever need.

She was to be his.

“Stop looking at me,” She said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wow, that kind of talk really gets me hard.” Coriolanus walked towards her, undoing his black leather belt and tossing his coat on the floor. She thought about the amount of excess he would afford her if he cared so little for his own possessions to leave them on the floor. [Y/N] thought about her own position on his floor briefly.

“We agreed no pleasantries.”

“Come on, you’re going to be mine for the rest of our lives. At least let me look at you.”

[Y/N] tipped her head down with a frustrated sigh. He stared wolfishly at her as she knelt half-bare on his floor. She couldn’t help but blush at how exposed she felt. [Y/N] felt more on display and exposed in front of one man, the man she was to marry, than she did in front of every guest at the party earlier in the night.

“Don’t look away from me,” Coriolanus said firmly. “Those eyes are too beautiful to look at the ground like that.”

She looked back up at him begrudgingly, her eyes wide with fear, or lust. She had no choice but to watch Coriolanus popped open the button of his trousers open. [Y/N] could see the imprint of his dick against his thigh. He rubbed himself through his pants for a moment. [Y/N] swallowed nervously. Coriolanus was a broad, imposing man. The size of his cock shouldn’t have been surprising, but her eyes bulged all the same.

Coriolanus pulled his cock free of his pants. Logistically, [Y/N] was officially concerned about offering the blowjob. His long cock was what her the rest of her life looked like. She would surely have to get used to it eventually.

Without hesitation, [Y/N]’s mouth fell open as he approached. Her hands instinctually gripped the back of his thighs. Coriolanus, after loosening his tie, buried his hands in her once elegantly styled hair and forced himself down her throat.

Coriolanus moaned through gritted teeth in sync with [Y/N]’s gag when she took him in. There was little chance of taking all of him down her throat at once. Unsurprisingly, Coriolanus fucked hard and fast. Brutally so. [Y/N] hardly had a chance to breathe through her nose. Fortunately, at least, Coriolanus did all the work by maneuvering her face up and down on his length. He regulated the tempo and the pressure. All [Y/N] could do was try to swallow and hollow her cheeks out as best she could. Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you, echoed in her mind.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Real ones.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Coriolanus grunted after several moments. [Y/N] raised her tongue slightly against him. Through wet eyes, she saw Coriolanus’ eyebrows lift and his forehead crease when she did. That was effective. “[Y/N]!”

The only sounds in the room after that were gagging and heavy breathing. Coriolanus’ breathing, not [Y/N]’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she was able to breathe, it felt like. She was really blowing for her life here, she could barely catch an inhale through her nose. [Y/N] felt herself get more and more lightheaded and she did all she could to keep her eyes open.

Quickly, she tapped the back of Coriolanus’ left thigh. It was universal symbol for this isn’t great for me. Coriolanus understood this signal loud and clear. He thought he would keep going, but almost immediately decided he would rather have a wife in one piece instead of a perfect blowjob and slowed his pace significantly. Like a good husband.

He got gratification from slowing down too, because he could see the relieved and grateful gleam in [Y/N]’s expression. Coriolanus had gifted her that relief. He was getting close.

“Swallow.” He choked out. [Y/N] turned her eyes up at him again to confirm his request. Coriolanus’ eyes were tightly shut. [Y/N] had no idea if this had been minutes or near an hour. Her jaw ached. She felt his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucked.

That was the last clear memory [Y/N] had that night. The build up of the alcohol that had been genetically modified to be strong enough to get one drunk faster, the stress, the sweat, the tears, the blowjob, the lightheadedness, the dancing, the fear and the anger all happening on one night culminated into a good old fashion liquor blackout.

She had brief flickers of memory instead of a picture of the night. She was unsure if Coriolanus had finished or not. [Y/N] vaguely remembered Coriolanus unhooking her garters and taking off her stockings. She could feel the clean sheet and duvet over her exhausted body. She swore she could recall Coriolanus’ arm over her her waist and his lips against her ear whispering something. If only she could remember what he said.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] woke up to the birds and the traffic noise. All of it sounded world-shatteringly loud. She felt sick to her stomach. What was that dreadful taste in her mouth? Her head pounded. Too much posca at her engagement party. Desperately, she wanted a cup of coffee. [Y/N] groped at the covers to drag them over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the window.

Hold on.

As she pulled the covers over her head, [Y/N] realized these covers did not smell like her. They smelled of roses. That, and something else more metallic that lingered under the palatable rose smell. Coriolanus smelled like that. Coriolanus’ bed.

Buried in the comfortable duvet, she couldn’t bear to crawl out from under it. She was filled with panic. How had she ended up here? She could feel that Coriolanus wasn’t beside her, so where had he ended up? Had they slept together?

Had they slept together?

The phrase and all of its meanings bounced around in her head. Her hand slid down her body. She had no top on. That was a bad sign. Her hand continued further down her body and landed on lace underwear. She exhaled and let her hand flop back down on the bed. From another room, probably the living room, [Y/N] heard the phone ring. She wished it would stop. [Y/N] rose from bed with some difficulty.

It was clear upon standing up that the only thing that would make her feel better was vomiting. She dashed madly for Coriolanus’ en suite bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet, empty the contents of her stomach for a good couple of minutes. The pressure of her headache decreased afterwards, but the terrible taste in her mouth grew. [Y/N] flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. She had never looked this bad in her life.

Dark ringed eyes, leaking leftover makeup and smeared lipstick, a bold hickey on her neck like a seventeen year old. What had she done?

[Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ burgundy robe off the back of his bathroom door and cinched it around her waist. She walked back through his bedroom. Her knees burned a bit with each step. Maybe from the heels she had worn the night before. Her eyes landed on the flat pillow on the floor right next to Coriolanus’ belt. This seemed like a bad omen.

Suspiciously, [Y/N] walked into the too bright hallway light. [Y/N] stumbled to her own bathroom and frantically brushed her teeth before facing Coriolanus. It hurt to hold her jaw open to brush her molars, but anything to rid herself of the salty, stale taste that had taken up residence. Finally then, she moved into the living room.

There was Coriolanus smiling on the couch like he was most mornings after some sort of party. His hair lacked product and lay rich and curly against his forehead. Boxer shorts and an open dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up left little up to the imagination about his body. He was so pale that he practically reflected the sunlight from the open window back at her like a mirror. Coriolanus was perfect, even first thing. How annoying.

“What time is it?” [Y/N] croaked hoarsely. Coriolanus nearly knocked his mug of bitter coffee off the end table in surprise as he reached for the remote. He abruptly clicked off the television.

“Eleven. There about,” Coriolanus replied, vocally calmer than his body would betray. He rose from the mauve couch and moved to [Y/N]. He ran his hand down the sleeve of his robe that she wore. “Is this mine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, sorry. It was all I could find. I’ll go swap it for—“

“Please. What is mine, is yours,” Coriolanus interrupted. “It suits you,” he said with a hand running across his own gold CSB monogram on the breast pocket of the robe she wore. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose,” but what she really wanted to say was ‘what did we do last night?’ “And you?”

Coriolanus chanced an animalistic smile. “Last night, you said no more pleasantries.”

[Y/N] scanned her brain for a memory of saying that. She did not remember that phrase specifically, but she did catch a lot more glimpses of her night in her mind’s eye. [Y/N]’s strongest images were her mother’s shocked eyes, the empty glasses of posca, Coriolanus with a red handprint on his cheek, and his hard cock at her eye level.

“Coriolanus, what did I do?” [Y/N] asked, realizing exactly what she had done.

“Which part?” Coriolanus asked cautiously, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Coriolanus wanted her to feel held and ravished for a moment since he knew she would go ballistic at what was on the TV, in the newspaper, and on the lips of everyone in town. She felt like a still from an old moving picture; being held like that.

“How bad?”

“Hm? Oh, your mouth was lovely—“ he tried to expertly redirect with an innuendo.

That assumption of what they had done had been correct. Damn. “No, shut up, stop. The… The TV, the news, the—“

“Do you want to know?”

[Y/N] felt like deflating. It must have been bad. She thought back to how he had turned off the television so fast when she walked in. “I… Will I like what I see?”

“How about we sit down, Darling?”

Coriolanus sat [Y/N] down gently on the middle cushion of the couch and folded his lanky legs into the seat to her right. She looked worried. Coriolanus hated watching other people worry, it was distracting for him and often created too many new problems. He swallowed down the urge to snap at her for pouting like that. He hated pouting too considering how unproductive it was. The blonde man reached his right hand out and used a pointer finger and thumb to tip [Y/N]’s chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Any press is good press.” Coriolanus repeated their mantra from the night prior.

[Y/N] inhaled through her nose. “Any press is good press.” She agreed. Coriolanus nodded and pressed a dutiful kiss to her temple to praise her for that answer. [Y/N] stared at the dark and glassy TV screen. Coriolanus clicked it on.

A fuchsia haired newswoman sat behind a desk with the regular Capitol News studio set up for an morning gossip show. The headline was plastered on a chiron in the lower third of the screen: ‘SNOW HEIR’S GIRL OUT OF CONTROL.’ In the top right hand corner of the frame was a photo of [Y/N] sobbing on her knees in front of Coriolanus’ who wiped her tears. [Y/N] wasn’t able to listen to the grating anchorwoman who was speculating about whether or not Coriolanus should send [Y/N] to rehab.

Coriolanus watched [Y/N] watch herself on TV. He grew uncomfortable when he couldn’t automatically read her expression. He had prepared himself for some tears and a temper tantrum, but neither came.

“What are you thinking about?” Coriolanus asked her. [Y/N] was too still. She didn’t respond quickly. “[Y/N]?” Coriolanus nudged her with his elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

“The headline.” She finally replied.

Coriolanus bit his bottom lip. He kept his voice as level as she had. “Okay. What about the headline?” He asked.

“Well, it isn’t very good, is it?”

“What?”

“It’s too plain.”

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes. “It’s too plain?”

[Y/N] nodded slowly. She finally ripped her eyes away from the television set and looked up at him. “It’s informative, but it’s not eye catching beyond being alarmist,” She replied. [Y/N] pointed at the TV, smiling. “That’s my picture. That’s us up there, Coryo, and that’s the best headline they could come up with? It’s weak.”

Coriolanus couldn’t recall her calling him Coryo before, even when [Y/N] had heard it from friends, family and classmates. She was saying something. He should have been paying better attention, but [Y/N] looked lovely wearing his robe. “Coryo, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. Too bad. Coryo. “I got distracted, I’m sorry, Darling. You were saying?”

“I said, please get me a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to work on something better and call in a suggestion for a correction since obviously—Mmph!“

[Y/N] sentence was never finished. Coriolanus leaned in towards her face and slammed his lips against hers hungrily. Habitually, [Y/N] grabbed his biceps as they toppled flat back onto the couch. Coriolanus wasted little time pressing the tip of his tongue against her lips aggressively. He knew he gave into an open-mouthed makeout too easily, but it was so much fun.

Both pulled back after some time for a breath. “Coriolanus…” [Y/N] panted.

“Coryo, please. Nobody calls me that anymore.” He said, staring down at her.

“Coryo, I want a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“You’re crazy. You want to call in a correction on a story about yourself because you want to make it worse. You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Then tell me some more after you get me—“

“Not yet,” Coriolanus said. His hands untied her robe like she was a gift box. The best present to come out of this engagement party, certainly. “[Y/N], do you know what you did last night?”

“A few things, at least.”

“Very funny. I mean…” Coriolanus sighed. His hormones raced. He could barely make eye contact with her since his eyes were drawn elsewhere. “I mean, you bulldozed your whole life. You Thirteen’d your life off the map.” he said. She nodded. She shivered at the reality of his statement. [Y/N] had nothing left but ashes. She had burned almost every bridge she had.

Except him.

“Not the part with you,” [Y/N] said. She smiled. She said it to please Coriolanus and it seemed to work. He was much easier to play than she thought he was. “You’re all I’ve got left, Coryo.” That was absolutely true. For better or worse, Coriolanus was inevitable.

“Let me take care of you,” Coriolanus said. “You’re about to be my wife. There’s no one else you need. You’re mine. I’m not going to let you fall through the cracks.” He said.

“Promise you won’t?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Coriolanus said honestly, but he didn’t feel strongly enough to really promise. “Do you like these panties?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. I’ll buy you a new set.” There was a horrible tearing sound and after that, Coriolanus’ mouth was on [Y/N]’s pussy. He licked and sucked for all he was worth.

[Y/N] did not expect Coriolanus to be good at this. All this time, she had disallowed him from touching her because she thought he would be a selfish lover. There was still potential that he was, but fuck, Coriolanus sure was good for this. His long thin nose bumped her clit as he pressed his tongue deeper into her folds and she moaned. Her hands sank into his curls.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Coriolanus said into her cunt.

“No,” She said, pulling on his hair. Coriolanus was irked, but let her do it anyway. He had never felt pleasure from someone tugging his hair like that before. [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Coriolanus used his strong, callused hands to hold her thighs open. He was going to make her cum with only his greedy mouth, like she had for him last night.

Quid pro quo. That was the nature of their whole operation, Coriolanus realized. It was fine by him.

It was still early and Coriolanus had the day off. He was ready to make up for lost time. He was going to make her cum in every room of their home. Coriolanus was addicted to her taste. He was addicted to her mind. All of this felt cloaked in danger; it was too personal for Coriolanus. Oh well.

By day’s end, [Y/N] wouldn’t be able to climb out of bed for a couple of days on her own. Coriolanus’ constant tongue-fucking pulling orgasms from her had turned her brain to mush, but not before she was able to force Coriolanus off and jot down a few headlines of her own while he marked up her neck.

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE: FREAK OR FOOL?’

‘CAPITOL’S GOLDEN BOY FALLS FOR BAD GIRL.’

‘ALLEGED CHEATING SCANDAL SHAKES CAPITOL YOUTH.’

‘GAMEMAKER WALKS OUT THE VICTOR AFTER PARTY DISASTER.’

‘’WEDDING IS OFF’ SPECULATES PLINTH FAMILY.’

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE LIES, CHEATS AND STEALS THE NIGHT.’

‘SNOW’S FALLING (STANDARDS).’

Half of her ideas dripped as moans while Coriolanus worked on her pussy. She was weak enough to do little more than pull his hair and try to clench around whatever he pushed into her. [Y/N]’s orgasm-addled mind finally comprehended that Coriolanus made her better. He made her more creative, bolder, and free from every burden except him. Finally, willingly, [Y/N] gave Coriolanus the last thing she had to give: Herself.

It felt fucking incredible

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely

apologies again for the tags that did NOT work.

#coriolanus x reader

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paniniirae · 10 months

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culpa mia has been out for two weeks now and there’s no fics PLEASE I NEED

#culpa mia #nick leister #noah morgan #nicole wallace #gabriel guevara

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paniniirae · 1 year

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Can someone PLEASE write some jerome clarke fan fiction now that house of anubis is coming back

#jerome clarke #house of anubis #jeroy #jamber

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paniniirae · 1 year

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Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Ohh, so that’s what that sound was. We should go on a date. You don’t wanna date me, Jerome. Nonsense! No! Okay, so you are a little annoying, sometimes. Thanks. But, in a certain light, you are kind of, adorable.

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paniniirae · 2 years

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fezco x reader; gsw

request: okay so hear me out! fez and reader(who’s rue’s cousin and a nurse) use to date in high school and they break up (you can make up the reason why cause idk) and the reader is moving back to town with leslie (rue’s mom). then one day rue is hanging out at fez’s house where something’swrong between him and mouse and mouse shoots fez but he didn’t wanna go to the hospital so rue calls her cousin( the reader) to help and when she/he gets there they realize that they still have feelings for each other

notes: hope this is what you wanted!!!

“Hey Rue. What’s up?”

“Y/N, come to Fez’s house right now please?”

“Why? If this is another excuse to get us together-”

“I swear it’s not! Please, hurry! And bring whatever you need to treat a bullet wound!”

“To- what the hell? Rue?!”

The line went dead. You quickly managed to put everything you needed in a bag and rushed to the car. Your breath had quickened and your palms were sweating. You knew you were in no condition to drive but it’s not like you had a choice. You assumed it was Fez who was hurt, it wouldn’t have been Rue on the phone if it was her. Jesus, why couldn’t they have normal problems like any other teenagers?! She should be dealing with a failed exam, not with a bullet wound.

You grabbed the bag and got off the car. Rue must have seen you coming because she opened the door before you even got there.

“He’s in the sofa.” If there was one thing you would have never wanted to happen, was your high school sweetheart lying semi-unconsciously with a bullet wound on his shoulder, being taken care by 13-year-old kid and your little cousin. But alas, here you were.

“Fez, can you here me?” He moaned. Okay, he was awake. Good.

“What should we do?” Ashtray, who was holding what seemed like a very expensive t-shirt against the wound was looking at you worriedly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Taking him to the hospital, maybe?!”

“No.” Fez answered, eyes still closed. “They would ask.”

You sighed. “You really should go to the hospital. I don’t know what’s the internal damage. What if the bullet has hit an artery, or if it has broken and it’s travelled-”

“No hospitals.” He struggled to open his eyes. You were having a hard time holding back your tears. “I trust you.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“So, what do we do?” Rue was looking at you anxiously. “Are we going to remove the bullet?”

“We? You two stay back for now and let me work. First, I will clean the wound. We’ll see from then.” You took a deep breath. This was definitely not your area of expertise, but you weren’t about to let Fezco die.

After thirty minutes of work —clean the wound, remove the bullet, close the wound— there was nothing more you could do. You had forced both Ash and Rue to leave (making sure neither of them had signs of shock). And now you were left alone with Fez.

“So,” He cleared his throat. “I’m making it?”

You looked at him, lying in that sofa, covered in blankets, eyes hardly open. You were trying to be positive, but this was one of the worst things you have had to face. There’s a reason why doctors aren’t allowed to treat relatives and loved ones. Oh, did you just say that word?

“I think so, yeah. It looks like it.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.” He looked at you with a grimace.

“Of course I’m not happy. Do you even know how dangerous a bullet wound is? Only one in five survive, that with appropriate medical attention. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

He was looking at you in a weird way, a soft smile on his lips. “C’mere.” You sat on the floor next to the sofa. You moved your hand to his forehead. He didn’t seem to have a fever. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be stupid, you know I do. I’ve always cared.” Your hand moved to his head without noticing and started caressing his hair. He sighed contentedly. You stayed quiet for a few minutes. You looking at him, while he kept his eyes closed.

“Remember when we first hooked up?” He opened his eyes, looking at you with a spark of mischief.

“Of course I do. On Halloween. Very romantic.”

“Man, you looked hot in that nurse costume.”

“Where the hell are we going?”

“To buy weed. Now shut up!”

Your friend was dragging you around the house of some dude you didn’t know. “I’m not gonna smoke. Do you now how bad is that for your health? It affects your brain, liver lungs-”

“Please, Y/N, you don’t need to smoke, just come with me.” You sighed, but followed her to wherever she was taking you. You stopped in front of a cute guy with freckles and blue eyes. While your friend bought the weed you looked around nervously, but nobody seemed to be looking at you.

“Who’s your nervous friend?”

“Ah, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Fez. If you let her talk too much, she’ll give you a full list of the reasons why drugs are the worst.” Your friend rolled her eyes, but the guy only laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind that. Maybe she can keep me company for a while.” You friend’s eyes widened comically. You would have laughed if you weren’t sure your face looked exactly that ridiculous.

“Sure! I’ll leave you to it.” She left you alone with the cute guy without giving you time to protest.

“So, you don’t do drugs?”

“No.”

“Never?”

You shook your head.

“That’s cool. Then I know you won’t be stealing my weed.”

“No. That won’t be a problem.”

You stayed silent for a while until he talked again. “So, all this anti-drugs shit and dressed up as a nurse. You wanna be a doctor?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I hope so.”

His eyes travelled from your cleavage to the black heels and back to your eyes. “Maybe you can help me with these pains I’ve been having…”

It was a pathetic pick up line. Still, 30 minutes later, you found yourself legs wide open while Fez pounded on you on some random bathroom you both had stumbled upon. You thought it was a nice hook up with a cute guy, but you woke up with a text from him the next day:

hey, im fez

the dude from last night (idk how much u drank so just in case)

want to hang out today?

wearing the nurse costume again would be a nice touch

“You don’t happen to keep that costume, right? For old time’s sake.”

“If we have sex now, the wound will re-open and you’ll die. So, no.” He had his playful smile back, and aside from being relieved about him feeling better, it also made you feel certain things.

“Well, when I’m feeling better…”

“Fez, we are not having this conversation right now.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Why not? We ain’t kids no more. You like me and I like you. What’s the problem?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation now?” He should be sleeping, but he nodded, and you knew there was no way to convince him otherwise. “You were the one who broke up with me, Fez.”

“What was I supposed to do? You left town. I thought you were never gonna come back.”

You laughed. “Always so dramatic. Of course I was gonna come back when I finished college. I wanted to be with you. I always made that clear.” You looked at him, waiting for him to say something. “So, what now?”

“Wanna go on a date with me?”

He looked unsure, as if you hadn’t just told him you’ve been pathetically in love with him since forever. “Sure. When you’re not on the verge of death.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna sleep now.” He closed his eyes and moved around trying to find a comfortable position in the couch. “Meanwhile you can go look for that nurse costume, you know? It’d really help my recovery.”

“Sleep. Now.” With one last laugh he turned around and his breathing started to even up. You fell asleep on the floor next to him, with a smile on your lips, thinking of your upcoming date.

#fezco x reader #fezco #fezco imagine #fezco euphoria

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paniniirae · 2 years

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#isak #skam

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paniniirae · 2 years

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[after Even finally breaks up with Sonja]

Jonas: Where’s Even?

Isak: He needed sometime to grieve.

Even: *outside screaming* I’m free! I’m free!

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paniniirae · 3 years

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A Party For Two

Summary: Your biker boyfriend had plans for the two of you. None of his plans involved a party with friends or game night and what the hell is brunch. No, gorgeous, the only party you’re going to is with him and only him.

Pairing: (Grumpy) Beefy!Biker Bucky x Reader

Work count 2K

Warnings: Smut, 18+, exhibition kink, soft dom Bucky, knife kink.

A/N: Requested by @lookiamtrying and an anon.

𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥 by the wonderful @eurynome827, however 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed

“Is he just going to stand there all night and stare at you?”

You don’t even look over your shoulder; you know exactly who and what Marcie is referring to. Smothering a grin with your hand, unable to hide the smugness in your voice when you reply “yep.”

“He’s been like that for an hour now,” she says, unsure if she should be worried for you or for everyone around you.

“Yep.” You can feel Bucky glaring at you. He had been ecstatic when you opened the front door. His exuberant smile dropped off his face when your friends followed you into your shared home.

Your man, all six feet of pure muscle and tattoos, is moping behind you. To everyone but you, he appears pissed off and frightening, but you know better. He’s pouting and you love it.

Bucky used to live for raunchy clubhouse parties and hanging out until 4 in the morning. Waking up beside an unfamiliar girl every morning, gleefully sending her wobbling out of his house with a muffin and a cup of stale coffee. No promises to call because he didn’t believe in lying. An endless cycle of late nights, sleeping in and faceless women in his bed.

Until you came into his life, now he’s all about the private parties and fucking your brains out until dawn. He only craves you under him, on top of him, beside him.

He’ll take you any way you let him. And you do, his insatiable need for you feeding your own insatiable need for him. A passion-driven cycle of take and give that leaves him craving more of you.

And when Bucky doesn’t get what he wants, he gets very grumpy.

Bucky had plans for tonight. Plans that involved you and only you. Not these people.

Keep reading

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky

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paniniirae · 3 years

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not tonight

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: you lose your wedding ring. bucky gets upset. what better place to argue about it then the middle of a gala?

“Where are they? Gala starts in 10 minutes.”

“I saw Barnes head for their room — “

“Y/N finished training an hour ago. She should already be in there.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, “I told everyone to be out here and ready by six.”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bruce reasoned.

“It’s not fine. Fury has the UN Security Council coming and we need to make a good impression as a team.”

“Since when do we care what they think?” Clint interrupted.

“Since they threatened us. Am I the only one that was paying attention to the meet— “

And Natasha zoned them out. Completely out because she knew that Steve was right. He always was when it came to things like this and even she could admit that their reputation hadn’t been the best lately. Had the media to thank for that, so maybe making good impressions wasn’t a bad idea. Especially not when they were to the UN Security Council.

She hadn’t realized she walked into your shared room until she was in there. The lights were out and it was dark. Really dark with the only light peering from the far-left window. It wasn’t much, but it allowed her to catch a glimpse of the gala outfits hanging from the couch.

“How come they get to sleep in?” Clint commented.

“Sleep in?” Steve questioned. “Buck, are you — we need to be heading to the Gala!”

“Calm down, Steve,” Bruce reasoned again.

“No, Bruce. This is important. It’s the UN and look — Coulson just texted and said the council is waiting on us and Bucky! Buck, get your ass up — “

“Language!” Tony walked in. “Got a mouth on you, Cap. Gotta say, kinda glad it’s not me being late to this whole thing.”

“Tony — “

“Guys, we need — “

“Shh,” you stirred, covering Bucky’s ears with your hands. “Shh, would you guys be quiet? Some of us have enhanced hearing.”

Natasha laughed. Hadn’t realized she left the door open when she walked in and it was funny, really, because her family could have already been at the Gala by now, but instead they were standing here, bickering. Yelling in Steve’s case. It was so like them and so like you and Bucky to be in your own world. With his head on your chest, cheek pressed against your sternum and arms locked around you. It was peaceful, looked it too with the way the white sheet draped over you two. Reminded her how in love you two really were. She sometimes forgets it, gets too caught up in missions and briefings to realize it, but she feels it. Always does whenever she walks into a room with you two.

She watched as one of your hands moved to stroke though his hair, before coming back to rest over his ears.

“Y/N, meet us at the Gala?”

You nodded.

Then, she pushed everyone out of the room. Didn’t bother to listen to their protests because it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Some things were just more important than appearances.

It didn’t take more than forty minutes for you two to show up. Bucky looked like he didn’t want to be there, and you looked, well, like you wanted to be anywhere he was. Natasha smiled at that, while Tony – Tony focused on the great job he did picking out your outfits. They matched and were all black and badass, as he put it.

“Finally showed up, Buck?” Steve commented. “With lipstick on your face, pal? Real classy.”

Your eyes widened, “Buck! I told you to wipe it off.”

Bucky muttered a sorry, sweetheart like your marks on me, while you used your free hand to wipe the lipstick residue off his face. Steve thought it was so typical, so married of you two to show up like this and he – he couldn’t be mad if he tried.

“Long as you guys are here.”

Because that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it? The whole team being together, mingling, and having a good time? Everyone gathering around and seeing them, his team, the way that he seems them – as partners, friends, and heroes. It seemed like it was going well. Even noticed the council cheer and toast with Sam when they announced that dinner would be ready soon.

It was a good evening, a happy one. Steve and Nat partly wanted to thank themselves for that, their overbearing selves because they kept an eye on their family the entire night. Watched as they maneuvered through the room and made bonds, good, solid ones with the council and others. Even watched Y/N and Bucky separate for a bit to do so also. Never too far though. Bucky never liked being far from his girl, liked keeping his eyes on you incase these events got too much. That way he could just grab you and walk out if he needed too.

“Gotta say, you’re really pretty Y/N. Dress does wonders on you.” that guy, Mark, from the treasury or something complimented.

Bucky stopped talking when he heard that.

“My husband thinks so too.”

“Didn’t know you were married.”

“Read all the tabloids, except that one then? Or is your reading level not that advanced yet?”

Mark grabbed your wrist when you turned to walk away and for Bucky, well, that’s all it took for him to swing at him. Take a nice clean punch to his mouth because no one talked to his girl like that and no one – no one grabs her like that.

No one.

A flail of Bucky’s fell from the team as they hurried over to him. Steve was the first to grab him and push him off Mark. Something about a not here, Buck and he’s not worth it came from him. Not that he listened or cared because this was his girl he was talking about, his girl that he was protecting and Steve — Steve knew that and didn’t push. Not too much. It did take Sam and Clint to get him to walk away though. Small steps at the very least because Bucky could punch that Mark again. Steve knew he would’ve. Sam and Clint did too. So, when you started heading to the bathroom, they were more than a little thankful that he followed.

You were dampening a paper towel under the sink when he entered.

“You really need to do that, Buck?” you questioned. “You know how important this night is to Steve.”

“He deserved it, baby.”

“Not tonight.”

Bucky sighed, “So, I was supposed to stand there? Let him flirt with you? Is that it?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, Buck, but he didn’t need to be punched either. Not tonight and especially not in front of all these people.”

“Y/N — “he replied, sternly as you pressed the towel to his hand. “Baby, he deserved it and you know it. Didn’t even bother to look at your — where’s your ring?”

“My ring? What? It’s on my oh— “

Bucky shook his head. Shook his head and dropped his hand from yours. You knew how it looked, what it meant, and you felt terrible. It was more than just a wedding band, something that signified that you were each other’s. It was a promise, a vow, and it held a lot more meaning than anyone could ever fathom. It was a promise that he spent months sketching out and sending to Wakanda, a promise that went through good and bad days, a promise of faith, loyalty and one that you swore that if you ever took off was because you didn’t want him anymore.

Your eyes fell on him, “James.”

He started walking away.

“James,” you followed. “Honey, come back.”

Clint walked in, “Dinners ready. You two good?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled away and your heart fell. God, this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time at all because you just gave him a whole speech about being good tonight, about how he couldn’t act like he did in front of all these people, but when he told Steve that we’re not married anymore when taking a seat, you knew you couldn’t just let this continue.

Especially since he took the seat farthest from you.

“Okay, now that we’re all here, how about we make a toast? C’mon everyone, let me see those glasses. Ross? Got it, buddy? Okay, I know we’ve had our differences, some bigger than others, so to speak, but tonight we’re putting those differences aside and — Y/N?”

“Sorry, just give me a sec,” you stood up and made your way towards Bucky. You didn’t care that practically everyone’s eyes were on you, you only cared about the blue ones that didn’t seem to acknowledge you until you took a seat on his lap.

You looped one arm around his neck, “I’m ready now, Tony.”

Then you zoned everything out. Everything except Bucky.

“You know only my wife can sit on my lap?”

“Good thing I’m her then.”

“Not tonight,” he replied in the same voice you spoke in earlier.

“Always,” you tightened your arm around him. “Always am, and you know that, Buck. I must’ve left it on the dresser.”

“You never leave it on the dresser,” Bucky pointed out. “You don’t even like taking it off. Never have. Not even when we shower or wash the dishes. Said you don’t feel right without it.”

“I don’t.”

“Y/N — “

“Handsome, I’m serious,” you looked down at him. “I don’t feel right without it, like I don’t feel right without you and knowing I have you. Don’t feel like I have you right now.”

Bucky sighed.

“It could’ve fallen too.”

Bucky shook his head and wanted to make a comment about how it couldn’t just fall off. It never had. Not when they went on missions or fought people or trained. It never fell off because Bucky – Bucky remembered measuring your finger at three a.m. while you were asleep months before he proposed to make sure it was perfect, that everything was perfect and that it fit. It couldn’t just fall off.

He thought maybe it conveniently fell off when Mark decided to speak with you.

You paused.

“You’re unbelievable, Buck,” you muttered. “You know very well that you’re the only man I could ever want, the only one I’d ever marry.”

“Can’t tell.”

“Can’t tell?”

“Can’t tell.”

And he was being childish, he knew. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did because a part of him – a part of him was convinced that you’d taken it off on purpose. That you were trying to show him that you didn’t want this, him, anymore, while the other part, well, that part of him thought it was ridiculous.

You’d only ever loved every part him since the moment you met.

"Can’t tell. Can’t tell. God, seriously, James?”

You were fuming.

Bucky could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“Why take it off then?”

“I didn’t take it off. I would never –’

“About to make a pretty big claim there, sweetheart.”

“It’s true.”

“Is it?”

You were staring at each other now.

“You know you’re gonna be real sorry when you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Why? Mark taking my side of the bed?”

“James!”

“Are you two done?” Natasha whispered over. “Are you? Because there might be trouble in paradise right now, but this night is important to Steve so it’s important to all of us. Save the arguing for when we get home."

“Fine.”

“Ok.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Are you going to get off my lap?”

“Are you going to believe me?”

“Y/N — “

“James, I swear to — “

“What did I just say? Are you kidding? Were either of you even listening — “

Sam cleared his throat.

Neither of you stopped arguing.

He placed your ring on the table.

You stopped.

Bucky did too.

“Might have taken it after Barnes over here knocked that guy out cold.”

If looks could kill, Sam was a dead man because Bucky couldn’t stop glaring at him. Swore he drove a hole through birdman’s head from the intense death stare he was giving him. He knew he would never punch his friend, never, but God did Bucky want to punch something, anything. Preferably the wall. Or Mark. Again.

Bucky grabbed your ring.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he expressed.

“Like what?” you teased. “Like you’re sleeping on the couch tonight because you definitely are.”

Bucky shook his head, wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his chest.

“I deserve it.”

“Yeah," you breathed out. "Yeah you do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Mhm?” you trailed your finger from his forehead to his nose and down to his lips. “Love me even though we aren’t married anymore?”

“We’re always married.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Always.”

Then he kissed you. Intensely. Passionately. Enough to almost make you forget everything that happened tonight and enough to distract you from the feeling of the cool metal slipping back on your finger. Bucky muttered another I’m sorry through the kiss and followed it up with another love you so much and all you could do was kiss him harder, say love you more, and watch him pull back to look at you.

He pecked you three times on the mouth.

Natasha groaned, knowing damn well that they made no good impressions tonight.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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paniniirae · 3 years

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Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

Keep reading

#bucky barnes x reader

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paniniirae · 3 years

Text

My Couch

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Warnings | alludes to sex, flirting

Word count | 497

Summary | Bucky has stolen your couch

Masterlist

Sighing, you stepped into the room with a little smirk playing against your lips.

"Hey stranger," your voice is sarcastic, almost harsh, "That is my couch." You state, pillow and blanket clutched between your arms and your body as you stand over the man lounging over the cushions.

"Oh yeah?" He hums, a flash of metal seen as he carded the fingers through his brown locks.

"Oh yeah. So I suggest you move before I make room for myself." You say with a little fake smile, making the man chuckle. He made a gesture that said 'go on' and you grinned, wide.

You clambered onto him, hands either side of the gorgeous man's head as you straddled his hips. You gasped when you felt something harden beneath you. Your lips curled into a smirk.

"Comfortable?" Bucky affirmed when you finished wiggling your hips and you bit your bottom lip.

You hummed in agreement, lowering yourself down so your were resting on his chest, face mere inches away from Bucky's.

"Very."

"Well, I'd love to know the name of the person whose couch I've stolen." Bucky said absently, eyes flitting around the room with mock innocence.

"Y/n Wilson. Sam's cousin. And I'd love to know who is stealing my couch in the first place." You asked with a raised brow.

"Bucky Barnes." Bucky confirmed and you gasped with fake realisation.

"Sam's stuck up cyborg friend? Who knew I'd ever get the honour?" You playfully teased, nose bumping into his.

"Y/n, get off Bucky. And Bucky, stop flirtin' with my family." Sam's less than impressed voice rang behind you and both you and Bucky turned to face him.

Sam had his arms crossed over his chest defensively, a brow cocked as he waited expectantly for you to move.

You looked back to Bucky and he smirked, smug and sure as you drummed your fingers against his metal arm.

"Y/n." Sam chided and you sighed.

"See you later, cyborg." You hummed, leaning down to nip playfully at Bucky's full lower lip - so pink and plump that it had been taunting you - before climbing off Bucky and sauntering from the room.

Bucky's flesh hand rose slowly, the tips of his fingers tracing where you'd nipped as his eyes lingered where you'd left the room.

"Drop the lustful gaze, Barnes. She's much too young for you." Bucky snapped to it.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"She's 20, and last time I checked, you're at least 150." Sam smirked and Bucky threw the pillow you'd dropped by the sofa at him.

"106. I'm 106." Bucky muttered and Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Just back off before I use that shield on you." Sam jibed and Bucky's face split into a smile.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" He chanted, fingers forming a salute over his brow that made them both burst into giggles.

Taglist

Bucky Barnes One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @anakinsslag @macylawz @zaphdekota @ihavemajordaddyissues @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @gooseyhouse @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @prettysbliss @the-surviving-revolutionist @white-wolf1940 @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr @vallerydevora @multihoee @supraveng @cap-n-ce @sebbyxlover @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @veronicapaula @ravenmoore14 @frickin-bats @itstaylorcale @farfromjustordinary @thurstyforholland @jamielovesbucky

if your name is crossed out, it means I couldn’t tag you!

#bucky barnes x reader

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paniniirae · 3 years

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Take It || B.B One Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader

Summary: You surprise bucky with a new pair of leggings.

Featured Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Established relationship. Pure smut, 18+ Only minors DNI – heavy breeding and daddy kink, slightly rough but passionate sex, not as rough as I usually would write. Female!reader

A/N: Just a quick little one-shot to keep us degenerates happy whilst I work on my other WIP's. This is pure filth so I apologise in advance. My mini-series has over 250 notes and I've gone from 48 followers to 120 in 2 days, I am beyond grateful for you all! Thank you for taking the time to look at my work, I know I'm not as good as I can be as I am brand new to fanfic writing but I couldn't be more grateful for everyone's support!

This hasn't been proofread, and it's pretty shit because I just came up with it in the heat of the moment so it's probably poorly written and not as good as it should be lmao.

Gif and divider found on google, credit to the original owner

Masterlist

Being with Bucky Barnes was everything you dreamt and hoped it would be. He was an incredibly passionate and attentive man. Never had a man before spent so long getting to know the rhythms of your body; searching for what made you tick and what made you sing. You had never cum before you met Bucky, something he relished in and took pride in at all times.

Bucky could never understand how modern men, or even men back in his day for that matter, never tried to please their lovers. They all took but they never gave. Bucky got off when you got off, and that fact alone meant you spent many days and nights with his rugged and devishly handsome face between your soft thighs.

Bucky had been gone with Sam on a recon mission for 2 weeks, during that time you felt like you were slowly dying, the ache between your legs was growing each day, longing for your big strong super soldier to come home and reclaim what was rightfully his.

You and Natasha had been watching tik toks to pass the day away before his return tomorrow, when you stumbled across a new trend. Apparently, people were going mental for a certain pair of leggings that did miracles for your ass. Luckily for you, you were already graced with a huge perky ass, and Bucky definitely was an ass man, well he has an everything man, your tits, your neck, your lips and your thighs. He worshiped you as if you were a goddess and your pussy was the alter.

Nat ordered you a pair of those leggings much to your dismay.

"Thank me later after you get absolutely railed. R.I.P to Y/N's pussy"

"Nat!" you laughed as you smacked her arm.

"What? You know damn well the effect this will have on him. Doesn't a part of you want to see what he will do?"

"I mean, yeah, I guess. Okay - fuck it, do it, what time is he coming back?"

"He should be back tomorrow morning; I've ordered the leggings for same day delivery so you have enough time to try them on and get ready" Nat smirked.

The following morning Nat, Steve, and Tony were all in the kitchen, when you strolled in wearing your new grey leggings, Nat had let out a wolf whistle causing the two men to look in your direction.

“Damn, Y/N!” Nat shouted as she motioned with her finger for you to spin around.

As you did, giving the three of them a prime view of your perfectly cupped ass, the material snugging tightly, Steve choked on his drink whilst Tony patted his back. “Christ Y/N, I think you might give Terminator a heart attack” Tony laughed.

“Do they look good?” you questioned, still unsure.

“I plead the fifth” Steve said as his face blushed beet red

“What Cap means to say is holy shit, that ass tho” Tony replied

“Tony” Steve scorned him monotonously “but urm yeah, I agree with Tony, you might actually give Buck a heart attack”

“I think I’m just going to take my breakfast back to our shared room, I don’t think it’s going to be a good idea to have an audience when he sees me”

“R.I.P, Y/N, gone too soon” Natasha cried as you strolled out of the room causing the other two to laugh in hysterics.

Friday had notified you in time that Bucky was back and the quinjet had landed, you quickly checked your appearance in the bathroom mirror, once you were satisfied that you looked good, you stepped out and made your way back to your kitchen as you continued to make lunch for the two of you.

You suddenly heard the tell tale beep of the scanner granting Bucky access to your shared living space, you let out a steady breath to calm your nerves and heard the sound of familiar footsteps as the door creaked open

“Hey babydo-”

Bucky immediately cut himself off as his eyes zoned in on your perfectly supple ass being tightly hugged by the grey fabric.

Bucky dropped his bags to the floor with a loud and echoing thud

“Oh my fucking god. Doll” he mumbled to himself.

You went to turn around to greet him but were met by a growled “don’t you fucking dare turn round” as the super soldier dropped to his knees crawled forwards and immediately began to grab and kneed at your ass cheeks.

“Do you like them? They're new” you sang as you bent slightly forward and wiggled your hips so your butt would jiggle. Bucky let out a pained moan at the sight, biting his perfectly plump pink lips “Oh doll, you know I worship your ass, but this?” he slapped your cheek hard as he watched it continue to jiggle, letting out another moan “this? This is like a fucking gift. I can’t wait to unwrap it and absolutely destroy it” he said as his tone grew darker.

You let out a small whimper as you squeezed your legs together, Bucky noticed and slowly stood up from his position on the floor, dragging the front of his body up past your ass and back as he wrapped his thick arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder, peppering heated kisses along your sweet spot.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, babydoll?”

You nodded pitifully as you continued to whimper, Bucky spun you around sharply by your hip, grabbing your chin harshly, squeezing your mouth as you looked up into his lust blown irises with clouded doe eyes “oh baby, have you missed me? Because I sure as shit have missed you” his dark baritone voice dropped an octave as he looked down towards your cleavage.

Not being able to take the teasing any longer, you lunged forward grabbing the back of his neck and pushed your lips to his, he responded instantly clashing his mouth against yours as you gasped and moaned. With your mouth momentarily open he rushed at the chance to push his tongue into you, you both moaned as your tongues battled against each other, tangling together in a battle of dominance, one where Bucky would always come out as the victor.

You cried at the loss of his warm mouth as he cradled your head in his large hands, nibbling your ear and sucking the sweet spot of your neck, causing you to gasp and throw your head back as he demanded more access to the treasured place that made you sing for him. And what a song it was.

“baby” he whispered into the crook of your neck as he rutted his hard and growing bulge against your clothed core.

Bucky harshly cupped your ass, and squeezed aggressively, you relished in the pain as you groaned out thinking of the delightful crescent-shaped marks that would soon form bruises in their wake.

“Bucky, please, I need you” you begged. Bucky growled at your desperate tone, grabbing the backs of your thighs as he held you, using his vibrainum arm to sweep the counter of its contents as they clashed to the floor a percussion of instruments adding to the symphony of sounds you were already making together. He gently placed you on the kitchen island as he began to tear your new leggings to shreds.

“Bucky” you shouted, “those were brand new!”

“Shut up” he demanded “I’ll buy you new ones. Ones in every colour, now shut up and let me see that pretty pussy. I’ve missed her so much”

Bucky resumed his earlier stance on the kitchen floor as his large unforgiving hands trailed the apex of your thighs, he tugged them closer to him causing your back to slam onto the cold marble surface making you gasp.

“and you’re not wearing any panties? You’re a dirty fucking slut, but you’re my dirty slut, aren’t you doll?” he cooed sweetly

“Yes, Bucky, oh god yes” you threw your head back at his words.

Bucky pressed his face into your core “god, baby, you smell so fucking good. Always so sweet, do you still taste as sweet as I remember?” without warning Bucky flattened his tongue, dragging the wet fleshy muscle from your opening to your bundle of nerves, you let out a quiet sob as he did so.

“You taste so good baby, still as sweet as I remember. I just wish I could live in-between your thighs forever” he growled once more as he dived in, acting like a man possessed. The sounds of him slurping up your sweet nectar as it trickled out of your core would have been enough to make you explode, but his tongue once again joined your clit as he began to drag his skilled tongue around it, sucking harshly.

Your hands flew to his short brown locks, gripping tightly as your thighs squeezed against his head, Bucky moaned at the feeling, loving the pain of your pull and the squashing push of your beautiful soft thighs against the sides of his face.

Your grip tightened as you felt the familiar build-up of heat and tension in your abdomen, a tingly sensation tickled throughout your whole body as your eyes began to roll back and your body began to spasm and convulse

“Oh god – oh g-oh, Bucky, Bucky, please – oh god, I’m gonna cum please baby please can I cum oh FUCK” you chanted.

Bucky’s voice was mumbling against your core, the vibrations further adding to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

“Already, doll?” he mocked, his icy blue eyes staring back at you as he continued his ministrations “go on, fucking cum for me, cum all over my face, I want to fucking taste you baby, can you be a good girl and cum for me?”

“oh god, OH GOD – I I I- I'm cumming, oh FUCK” you screamed as your whole upper half lurched upwards, pulling onto Bucky’s hair even harsher, he hissed at the sensation but continued to let you use his face for your pleasure as you slowly rode out your descending high by grinding against his tongue.

Bucky groaned against your core as he sucked the remainder of your sweet nectar.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he sighed as he stood up open mouth panting against yours, blown black with lust orbs gazing into your exposed and vulnerable soul.

“I need to be inside you right now” he demanded as he left no room for argument, ripping his belt from his pants in one swift motion, tossing it to the side as it joined the mess on the kitchen floor, unbuckling the button and zipper of his pants and dropping his black boxers so they rested against his thick hard muscly thighs, he took his large length in his hand as he began to pump up and down, breathing heavily into your mouth as his eyes fluttered shut.

Spitting on his hand and spreading it around his tip and shaft, he inched forward as he lined up with your core, slowly moving to press in.

“Wait, wait!” you shouted holding his shoulders

“What? What is it? Are you okay?” he searched your eyes frantically, panicked by your reaction “did I hurt you?”

“I forgot to take my pill this morning, let me take it”

Bucky groaned feeling his dick twitch against his hand at the thought

“No” he said

“No? What do you mean no. Fine, go get a condom”

“You’re telling me your soaking wet pussy is ripe and mine to claim and you want me to wrap a fucking condom around it? No thanks, I want to fucking cum inside that pussy, doll” he demanded as he slowly pushed into you.

You moaned loudly “Bucky, did you not hear me?” you panted as he began to edge himself in further as you struggled to accommodate his length “I didn’t take my pill, if you cum inside me I will get pregnant”

“oh fuck” he whined as he bottomed out inside of you grunting as he continued to thrust slowly and deeply inside of you, the tip of his engorged member kissing your cervix

“did you just get harder?” you gasped staring into his eyes once more.

“You can’t talk about shit like that and not expect me to take the opportunity. You’d look so fucking sexy carrying our baby”

“oh fuck” you cried as you threw your head back, Bucky latched onto your neck immediately nibbling your ear as he whispered to you “don’t you want that, baby?”

“god, yes, yes that’s all I want”

“good.fucking.girl” Bucky grunted as he pounded harshly into your weeping core with each word.

You had no idea Bucky felt this way, you had no idea he even wanted kids, let alone with you. But the thought of it made your heart soar. You loved your man to death, and the vision of mini Bucky’s and Y/N’s running around the tower made you teary-eyed.

“Fuck a baby inside me, daddy” you teased

Bucky’s thrusts immediately picked up pace as he pushed into you deeper than ever before “oh fuck baby, don’t say things like that, you’ll make me blow my load way too soon and I want to take my time with you tonight”

“But, daddy” you whined and batted your eyelashes in feigned innocence as you continued to pant against his mouth. “don’t you want to fill me with your cum?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, “is that what you want? You want me to fill this pretty little pussy with all my cum? You want to feel me for days? Have a little piece of me growing inside of you? You want to make me a daddy, baby?”

You moaned at hearing him refer to himself by that pet name you loved so much

“You want to be fucked like the little slut you are? Want me to use your holes, fuck you till you can’t walk right the next day?” Bucky began to slam into you even harder, his pelvis smashing into yours, you no doubt would have large bruises there by tomorrow morning.

“Yes daddy, yes!”

“God, I fucking love it when you call me that”

“Well, if you cum deep inside me daddy, it’ll become a reality” you teased him

Bucky lunged, wrapping his vibranium hand around the delicate expanse of your neck

“Oh, it’s going to happen alright, by the end of the night I’ll make sure you’re carrying my child, I won't let you leave the goddamn bed until you're dripping with so much cum that you physically can’t take anymore”

Your eyes rolled back into your head at his filthy words.

“aww, baby” he mocked in a soothing voice “are you all cock drunk now? Has daddy got you drunk on his big thick cock?”

You simply moaned in response. Unable to form a coherent sentence at the pace at which Bucky was pounding into you.

Bucky stuffed three of his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to choke on them as drool slipped from your mouth.

“god, you’re such a fucking slut yo- oh fuck, goddamn doll, you're pussy is squeezing me so fucking tight – that's it baby, baby - you gonna fucking cum?”

You nodded pathetically “Please, daddy, I’m your good girl, please let me cum please, daddy, daddy, daddy” you began to chant nonsensically.

“Go on babydoll, let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock, milk it baby, come on, there you go-” he soothed gently “that’s it, baby, that’s, god I can feel you pulsing around my cock, you’re such a good girl. So, fucking good for your daddy” he babbled as he continued to rock into you without mercy.

“Daddy isn’t going to last much longer, kitten” you whimpered at the thought of his cum filling up your fertile womb soon.

“Fuck, baby, you want daddy’s cum? You want daddy to make you a mommy?”

“OH FUCK – I’m gonna cum again!”

“You dirty little slut, is the thought of daddy making you a mommy going to make you cum? You like the thought of me filling you up with cum, owning your womb, watching your tits and belly swell as you carry our baby? Go ahead baby, daddy is right behind you, come on baby come on”

“that’s it there you go baby, oh fuck – da-daddy's gonna cum” Bucky groaned into your neck as his thrusts began to grow sloppy following an irregular rhythm as he chased his own high

“come inside me daddy, I wanna feel it, please daddy put a baby in me” you cried, tears forming in your eyes as the pleasure was too overwhelming for you having cum three times tonight already.

“fuuuuuuuccck, baby, fuuuck, take it, doll, milk my cock kitten, take it come on fUCKING TAKE IT” Bucky roared as he pressed into your harshly one final time, his legs shaking as he struggled to hold himself up on the cold counter.

Bucky leaned back, slowly pulling out as he watched his fresh load seep out of your bruised and swollen hole.

“Oh baby, look at that, you took so much, what a good fucking girl” he praised as he took his finger to scoop some of your mixed juices and held them to your mouth as you took it with fervour, licking up the sweet and salty goodness

Bucky moaned at the sight, feeling his dick harden again “god, I fucking love you”.

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#bucky barnes x reader

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paniniirae · 3 years

Text

How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

When people meet, they often use small talk as a means to negotiate and define the start of a new relationship. When you and Bucky meet, you both struggle to find the right words.

WARNING: talk of therapy, references to trauma and anxiety, and mild cursing

I. Show genuine interest.

“You’re new.”

“Excuse me?”

You shifted in your seat and eyed the man sitting across from you in the waiting room. His piercing cerulean eyes were squinted in your direction, right where he aimed his question. Despite the puppy-like confusion apparent in the way his head was cocked to the side, there was an edge to the mystery man. Perhaps it came from his clothes.

The jacket he wore was pitch black, a leather-like material that squeaked against the back of his chair when he moved. It looked brand new. Not to mention the matching gloves. His hands, joined together and resting on his abdomen, were covered in thick, dark fabric. There was not an inch of skin exposed, save for his face.

Though judging by the permanent scowl etched on his lips as he stared at you in wait for your reply, perhaps the man’s harsh edge ran deeper.

“The waiting room never has had more than like four people in it at a time,” you explained. “Until this week, until you, I waited by myself. So, you’re new.”

“Great powers of observation,” he quipped, though his tone lacked any lightness typical of teasing.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gloved hands against the tops of his thighs. He looked towards the twin pair of doors that fed into Dr. Raynor’s and Dr. Briam’s respective offices. You smiled to yourself at the sight: a big man, an otherwise scary man was nervous for therapy. You could sympathize as, not too long ago, you had been in his place.

“Was it an intervention? A work note? An epiphany?”

At your questions, the man fixed his gaze on you again. “What?”

“What brought you to the services of Raynor and Briam?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” While his voice was without a cutting coldness, his question wounded you. You overstepped your bounds. Time to wage a retreat.

“Sorry,” you murmured as you curled up and in your seat.

You looked away from the man in the hopes of distracting yourself from the searing shame. Quickly, your attention found the colorful pile of untouched magazines set out on a nearby side table. Despite your apology, you could still feel the sharpness of his eyes on you.

When you grew back the nerve and snuck a glance back at him, the man’s gaze was still fixed on you. Alarms rang in your ears as you turned to face him from across the waiting room once more. For a long moment, you just gawked at each other, waited for the other to speak.

Finally, the tension broke and, simultaneously, you both said, “sorry.”

A breathy laugh slipped past your lips, tilted and light. “Talking isn’t one of my strong suits.”

“Not mine either, not anymore,” the man sighed. However faint, there were slight, upward pullings at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close. Close enough that you felt a hopeful realization bloom in your chest. How handsome he would look with a real smile.

You met his eyes and asked, “can...can we just start over?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.”

“Great,” you reached out your right hand towards him, across the vastness of the waiting room like an olive branch. “I’m Y/N.”

He glanced from your hand to your eyes and back again before he hesitantly extended his left. The tips of your fingers brushed and you saw the man’s body tense. After a moment passed, he joined your hands. His grip was strong and tight and, despite the glove, cold.

“Hi, Y/N.” Against your will, a fuller smile played on your lips, satisfied by how smooth your name sounded in his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

II. Ask open-ended questions.

“How would you describe yourself?”

“What?”

“How would you describe yourself?” You echoed, a little louder than the first time.

“What do you mean?”

With a groan, you stood from your seat and strode over to where Bucky sat across from you. You settled in the seat beside him and held the magazine you were reading out to him. Empathetically, you pointed at the first question of the lifestyle quiz you found. Bucky squinted at the small typography and scoffed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a quiz in a magazine,” you pointed out, “it’s not supposed to make sense.”

“But am I a ‘curious cat stalking along a window sill’ or a ‘peaceful breeze blowing through a seashell windchime’? What...what does that even mean?” Bucky glanced from the page to you with furrowed brows.

“Which one speaks to you?”

“I don’t know. Is there a dejected crocodile or something?”

You laughed at his question, at the imagery of a saddened gator, and fought to catch your breath. When you finally were able to fill your lungs and meet Bucky’s gaze, you saw that he was serious. His blue eyes were fixed on you with a stillness that startled you. Curiosity struck you, just as it did the first day you saw him.

“A crocodile? Why a crocodile?” Your eyes flicked over Bucky’s face, trying to read his reaction to your query. He met your gaze before he pulled back and sighed.

“I saw some in Africa when I...I lived there. They seemed hostile.”

“You’re hostile?” You raised a brow at him as you asked. You made a mental note to ask him about his stint in Africa later.

Bucky met your eyes and replied, “when provoked. When I don’t have a choice.”

“Well that’s not dark or ominous,” you jeered. When he didn’t make a quip back at you, you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You’re here for anger issues then?”

A heavy sigh rolled through Bucky’s chest. He looked away, up towards the windows of the waiting room that were put far too high along the grey wall, too high to reach. Then, all at once, he was far away, lost in thoughts and feelings you were not privy to, despite longing to be. There was something about Bucky that was still a mystery to you and carried the same spark of newness that endeared you to him.

“There were times where I lost control,” he admitted as he looked back at you. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Sounds like it was an intervention that brought you here.” You silently hoped that your teasing would lessen the sudden tension that grew between you.

“It wasn’t an intervention,” he replied, his eyes drifting back up towards the window.

You frowned at his distant expression. It hit you, in that moment, that Bucky was still a stranger. His truth, his truths, were still hidden to you. You wanted to ask him so many questions but you knew better than to venture too far. The first exchange you had with Bucky taught you that.

So, instead, you turned in the chair beside him and held out the magazine so you both could read through the next few quiz questions. You had to start somewhere.

“I’m putting you down as a ‘curious cat’,” you said, “you seem like a cat guy. Aloof.”

Following your statement, a hum of amusement reached your ears. You glanced at Bucky and saw that the softest of smiles rested on his lips. Pleased with yourself, you looked back to the magazine and read off the next question.

“Alright so, ‘Reach back to your inner-child and ask yourself: what do you want to be when you grow up’, Bucky?”

“Is ‘just okay’ an option? Or ‘happy’?”

III. Never get too personal.

“You’re late.”

“I had an errand,” Bucky replied as he fell into the seat beside you. His seat.

“An errand? What are you, fifty?”

“I wish.”

“What? You want to be older?” You eyed Bucky warily.

“Youn-” he met your gaze and saw the confusion in your face. “Nevermind.”

“You’re a strange one, Bucky...Bucky...what’s your last name?”

“Nunya,” he replied, without missing a beat; but you knew this joke. You raised a brow at him and released a long, unamused sigh through your nose.

“Nunya business?”

“Damn right.”

There was a bitter, closed-lip smile on Bucky’s face as he spoke. Despite the expression, his eyes did not linger long on you. At the angle you sat at, you thought you saw his slightly upturned mouth fall, too easily, into a frown. You assumed that it was because you ruined his extremely outdated joke.

Gently, you bumped your shoulder against his. “We gotta get you new material.”

“Or what? People will think I’m fifty?”

He met your gaze with a bored look on his face. In spite of your best efforts to reply with a quick, witty retort, you found yourself immersed in Bucky’s presence. His cerulean eyes never left yours and you felt your resolve begin to melt. Your eyes flicked across his face, to his scruff-covered jaw and soft pink lips. It took all of your strength to meet Bucky’s eyes again and form a somewhat full sentence.

“Not looking as good as you do.”

You meant to fire it back, make it sting despite your words being more of a compliment than an insult. But the words were soft, a murmur that contained too much of your heart, and betrayed your true thoughts. You felt that truth and quickly averted your gaze to the too-high windows. Bucky let out a pleased huff.

“Careful. That almost sounded like flattery, Y/N...Y/N...what’s your last name?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, yeah, I get it. None of my business.”

A strained silence fell over the two of you. The dulled ticking of the waiting room clock soaked in the empty space that your voices once filled. Part of you feared that Bucky could hear the pounding of your heart. You were all too aware of the steady, thundering thumping in your chest.

In an attempt to muffle or overshadow the wild beating of your heart, you asked, “have you been given therapy homework yet?”

“Sort of,” Bucky replied, “kind of. It’s more self-assigned.”

“You’re an overachiever, then, huh?”

Your teasing, the distance your humor put you at, restored a level of comfort. In it, you felt confident enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. As you turned, your gaze trailed up his chest, skimmed along the cozy-looking material of his grey shirt. A striking glimpse of metal caught your attention, but Bucky’s voice coaxed your eyes to his.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” he sighed, and he raised his hands. “I’m pretty average.”

“I doubt that,” you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Really?”

You turned your head to meet Bucky’s eyes and, again, you felt the thumping in your chest hasten. “Really.”

“Bold of you to assume. You don’t even know my last name.”

“Yet,” you pressed, “you’ll spill it to me one of these days. You may look good, but you also look like you need the therapy. We’ll be seeing each other often.”

A stunted laugh slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. He rarely laughed. If you could get half a smile out of him you were pleased. So, when a chuckle did slip, you savored the sound.

You let yourself watch him, how his head tilted back slightly when he looked up to the windows of the waiting room. It was then you saw the glint of a metal chain around his neck. You traced the shining material with your gaze until you saw the two dog tags that rested against his chest. The lapel of his jacket nearly obscured them, but you managed to read one in full.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Sargent. Camp Lehigh. DOB: 1917.

Based on the year, the date of birth, it had to be a relative, a grandfather, or an uncle, with the same name. As well as the same nickname? However strange it was, you knew Bucky’s last name: Barnes. Yet, you would wait for him to tell you himself. He would, one day.

IV. Practice active listening.

He was quiet, more so than usual.

When you walked into the waiting room, Bucky was already there, sat in his seat. When you greeted him, he didn’t respond. He only nodded and leaned heavily against the back of his chair. It didn’t take long for you to note the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and the more prominent lines of his face. The evidence of his lack of sleep was clear.

“You alright?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what Raynor is for. But I’m here if you change your mind,” and, added as an afterthought, “if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. His gaze remained fixed on the wall ahead, the black greyness that stood like stone across from you. Worry struck your chest with a sudden ache. It didn’t help that his silence stung. All-day you looked forward to seeing Bucky, but he was so far away.

Even when you looked at him, Bucky seemed small. Almost as if he were sat a few seats down rather than in the one right beside yours. You raked your eyes over his form, desperate for any sign that he was present, in the moment with you. As you drank him in, Bucky remained unmoved and as out of reach as the waiting room windows.

Aside from the exhaustion clear on his face, he held himself as he normally did. There was a slight slouch in his shoulders, that would disappear when he stood, and his arms rested against the supports the chair provided. Your eyes graced over his chest. Beneath his standard dark jacket, he wore a charcoal grey shirt and, if you looked long enough, you thought you saw his dog tags sticking out against the fabric. He kept them hidden, except for the last time you saw him.

Aside from his tired appearance, Bucky looked the same. Had it been just a rough night? Or did something happen? Outside of the waiting room, you knew little to nothing about Bucky. You considered Googling him, just to see what would pop up. Maybe he had an Instagram or a Facebook you could stalk; though the thought of seeing him with his arm slung over some old lover made your stomach churn. It was better to keep the Internet’s knowledge about Bucky Barnes a secret despite how desperately you wanted to know more.

The temptation to ask him, prod him to get some sort of answer, or answers, was strong. To combat it, you picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. Not your first choice, but you needed to ease the itch of curiosity. Plus, the post-Blip world was a wild one, even for professional sports teams.

Feigning interest in the politics of football proved more difficult than you first imagined. Like the rest of the world, the realm of sports was floundering with its struggle to manage newly returned players and the teams they scraped together during their five-year absence. You began to wonder which half Bucky found himself with. Had he disappeared or had he remained? You still were unsure as to which was better.

It was part of why you used the therapy services Dr. Briam provided. Was that why Bucky met with Dr. Raynor? Just as your mind started to wander through every possibility, your quiet companion shifted in his seat. You looked over to him only to find his eyes were fixed on you.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. Your brows furrowed and you felt a frown form on your lips.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Bucky hesitated and you saw the glimmer of a maybe in his eyes before he replied with another curt, “no.”

“Okay. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the carpeted floor below his booted feet. You looked at the same spot but saw nothing. Slowly, you returned your gaze to Bucky, studied how his left arm rested near your right one. He was closer now, and you wanted to keep him that way.

Carefully, almost as if you were reaching out to a wounded animal, you extended your right hand. Your fingertips brushed against his left forearm and Bucky flinched. At his movement, you paused, looked to his face for permission. His eyes were stilled fixed on the floor and you could almost hear him slipping so far away again, crashing into the untamable waves his nightmares left in their wake.

To anchor him, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t squeeze, fearing it would be too much. You simply held his left hand in your right and silently marveled at how cool it felt beneath the material of his glove. A moment passed and Bucky didn’t react. You took a deep breath and resigned yourself back to the uninteresting issue of Sports Illustrated in your free hand.

A minute of silent reading went by when you felt his grip tighten around your hand. You didn’t dare to say a word. You only listened to the shuddering relief of his next breath.

V. Put your phone away.

“What was that?”

“My phone.”

“Really? I thought it was a lightbulb,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m aware it’s a phone.”

“How could I forget your great powers of observation.” Playing into your mild offense, Bucky feigned a frightfully embarrassed slap to his forehead.

“Funny,” you grumbled, “but it looked like you had a shit ton of missed calls.”

“Were you spying on me?”

You raised your hands in defense. “You pulled the phone out and the appallingly long list of uncleared notifications disgusted me.”

“I can’t figure out how to clear them.”

“You just swipe and then there’s a little ‘Clear’ button you press.” Bucky frowned and reached back into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and held it out to you. Dumbfounded by this action, you glanced up from the dark screen and back to Bucky’s eyes. He gestured to the device and nodded.

“Can you show me?”

“Uh, I, yeah. Yeah, I can. Can you um-”

“Oh,” Bucky pulled his phone back to him and typed in the passcode to unlock it. When he handed it back to you, you were met with a horribly unorganized home screen and a messaging app icon with over a hundred missed texts. You glanced up from the phone and to Bucky, ready to teasingly chastise him for the state of his device.

But, when you moved to look him in the eyes, you nearly knocked your head against his. He was leaning over, close to your shoulder, prepared to study your message-clearing technique. Though, when your eyes fell to him, his attention was refocused on you. In that instant, a rush of warmth overwhelmed your senses.

He was so close you could smell the leather of his jacket and whatever generic brand soap he used in the shower. You could also feel his breath dance along the skin of your face and neck. It stirred goosebumps to life and sent a shiver down your spine. In an effort to suppress the tremble that threatened to overtake you, you turned your eyes back to his phone.

“So, all you need to do is drag down the top screen and,” you quickly walked him through the steps of clearing his message notifications. A lot were from someone named Sam, who asked how Bucky was, where he was, and if he was attending a memorial service or not. Before you saw too much, you handed Bucky his phone back.

“That’s it?” He mirrored your movements and old messages began to disappear off his screen.

“Yup,” you breathed, “just like that.”

“Alright, but then how do I add a new contact?”

“You really don’t know how to do that? How old are you?” You held out your hand and he wordlessly placed his phone back in your grasp. “You just click on ‘Contacts’ and hit ‘Add New Contact’ and put in their information.”

“You should put yours in.”

Another rush of heat washed over and through you as you looked up at Bucky. There was a startling seriousness in his face, lessened only by the hints of a smile on his lips. Your mouth opened but no words came out. At least, not at first.

“What?”

“Your number, you should give me your number. If you want.”

“Y-Yeah.” In a numbed, almost mechanical manner, you entered your contact information before you handed back his phone. “There I am.”

“There you are,” Bucky echoed softly. He barely met your eyes but he didn’t seem unnerved, at least not as shaken as you felt. He was perfectly and horribly unfazed by the implications of his words. Or maybe you were reading into it. So much of Bucky was still a mystery to you. He still hadn’t told you his last name!

But you knew of his nightmares. You didn’t know the names of the ghosts that haunted him, but you knew they existed and that they scared him. It didn’t scare you. You had your own skeletons, and you held in your heart some strange longing to know his.

As if hoping to sneak a glance at them, you gazed up at Bucky. His eyes found yours in an instant and you wondered if he was ready and willing to talk to you about his nightmares. Or maybe he was finally going to tell you his last name. Or just tell you something about him.

Just as his pink lips parted, the door to Dr. Raynor’s office opened with a click. The small, otherwise unnoticed sound, snapped the tension that budded between you and Bucky.

In turn, you and Bucky, looked over to find Dr. Raynor. She poked her head out from behind the door, just as she had many times before. Her dark-framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose as she eyed Bucky, sending him a silent, eerie greeting. She looked as frightening and hawk-like as ever.

“Ready for you,” she deadpanned.

Bucky nodded and stood from his chair. You watched him walk over towards Dr. Raynor’s door. It nearly broke your heart when he didn’t look back at you, though you weren’t quite sure why.

VI. Longing.

You wiped at your eyes as you strode out of Dr. Briam’s office. Knowing full well that Bucky wasn’t in the waiting room, as his sessions with Dr. Raynor started earlier than yours with Briam, you charged towards the door. The next two clients that sat in the plush chairs eyed you and the tears streaming down your cheeks as you passed by.

You were long past caring about what anyone else thought. Hell, you barely noticed their thrown gazes as you pushed open the door to the office building and stomped out into the daylight. Once you were stood on the top stair, you took a deep breath. You felt your lung swell and, as you held in the air for a few more seconds, you imagined your every anxiety being pushed out with your long exhale.

Dr. Briam’s technique helped as you felt your shoulders sink with a sudden, but not total, loss of tension. Tears still slipped down your cheeks as you made your way down the stairs. You wiped at them as you started your journey home. Home, yes, there you could curl up and disappear for a few hours. That was what you needed.

Everything and everyone else was too much. Well, nearly everyone else.

Still walking at a fast pace, you barely noticed the blur of dark clothes that stepped towards you. That was until you felt someone grab your upper arm. You nearly shrieked and prepared to make a scene when you looked up. A pair of cerulean blue eyes found your gaze and almost instantly eased your panic.

“Bucky! You scared the shit out of me!”

He let go of your arm and raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Why are you lingering?” You asked, fixing your slightly disheveled clothes. Relatively satisfied with your handiwork, you focused back on Bucky. His eyes had never left your figure. “Bucky?”

“I...you seemed quiet today and I didn’t ask about it. So, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright but,” he reached out a brushed a tear from your cheek, “you’re not.”

“Is anyone really ever alright?” You forced a smile to your lips, an expression that Bucky mirrored sympathetically before he frowned. “I’m fine. You can go, you’re probably busy.”

You thought bitterly of the mystery person, Sam.

“At least let me walk you home.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” you joked, silently hoping that it would deter him. Yet, Bucky lingered and looked at you as seriously as ever. “Okay.”

Quickly, Bucky fell into step at your side as you maneuvered through writhing throngs of people on their way to and from. Every so often, your hand knocked against his gloved one and made your insides twist. The twisting turned to aching on the occasions where Bucky held your elbow and guided you around a particularly messy bunch of commuters.

“You walked this way for each session?”

“Each session,” you replied, looking up at Bucky. “Why?”

“Jus’ seems really busy.”

“It’s not always this bad. Plus, there’s a nice little park down over, oh! Right here.”

You stopped and gestured to a small fountain surrounded by benches. Manicured green knolls of grass and scattered, flowering trees surrounded the little park, which was empty compared to the streets. You glanced at Bucky and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Sit with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and he let you guide him over to one of the benches. With a huff, you sat down and he followed suit. The wooden planks of the bench creaked under his added weight and, as if ushered by the sound, Bucky leaned closer to you.

You watched him as he took in your new surroundings. It looked as if he were surveying the area for any threats that could be hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was why Bucky was such an enrapturing mystery to you: he always looked ready for a fight. Like his dejected crocodile, he was just waiting to be provoked. You were ready to do just that after weeks of tiptoeing around him.

“You never told me,” you said softly. Your voice coaxed Bucky’s eyes to yours.

“Told you what?”

“Why you came to Dr. Raynor.”

Bucky frowned and after a long pause he sighed. “A court order.”

“A court order? That’s…impressive? I don’t know the context, so, I can’t, and won’t, judge.”

Bucky let out a breathy, almost nervous-sounding chuckle as his gaze fell to the pavement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I think if you did, you would judge.”

You furrowed your brows and waited for Bucky to look back at you. When he did, you felt your breath catch. In the sunlight, his eyes seemed brighter. Though, the heaviness of his knitted brow stole away their shine. He really believed you would judge him, after everything?

“Try me.”

“Y/N-”

“I want to know.” Bucky frowned but you pressed on. “I want to know you, Bucky.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re...interesting. Equally annoying and mysterious. It helps that you’re,” you sighed, “you’re good-looking too.”

A smile, the biggest you had ever seen Bucky put spread along his lips. His gaze fell to the sidewalk bashfully before he met your eyes once more. You thought back to the day you met and found yourself breaking out into a grin. He did look handsome when he really smiled.

“I’m nothing compared to you,” Bucky replied. “Talkin’ about both good-looking and annoying.”

“Then you know I won’t stop pestering you until you start to share,” you shifted towards him. “I want to know who you are, Bucky.”

His eyes flickered down from yours to your lips and back again. “What if I don’t really know myself?”

“Then start with what you do know.” You held out both of your hands towards him. Bucky glanced down at your open palms. When he met your gaze you saw a glint of fear that quickly melted into, what you could only describe as, relief.

Wordlessly, Bucky lifted his hands and began to peel off his gloves. First was his right. The sight of fingers made you strangely giddy. You had never seen the skin of his hands before. Then, he moved to his left and, finger by finger, he pulled the glove off. Sleek, shining, and metal, Bucky’s left hand was exposed.

You inhaled sharply at the sight but did not flinch away. Instead, you met Bucky’s eyes again and nodded. Carefully, he grabbed both of your hands in his. The contrast of his warm flesh and the cool, steel-like material sent a shock down your spine. You studied your joined hands before you looked back up at Bucky. A trembling breath rattled in his chest.

“I am James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I’m from Brooklyn and I used to be the Winter Soldier.”

#bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader

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