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princessphilly · 4 days

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I’ve never been more jealous of a fic

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐬. 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞…

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟎𝟎𝟎

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜. 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. 𝐃𝐮𝐛 𝐜𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐜 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 '𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬', 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 '𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 >:𝐃

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 @navybrat817 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭��𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 @galatially 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐞!

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 @suzs-fic-library 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

It was a last minute thing, it wasn’t supposed to have happened, but nothing had gone right for you recently so when a work colleague offered you a chance to stay at her family's cottage on Tupper Lake, of course you had said yes.

“No one is using it right now, my parents are away, and I don’t want to go there this year, it’s boring. Why don’t you go? It’ll be fun. I’ll let the property manager know you’re coming.”

Life sucked, you hated your job, and your boyfriend had broken up with you two weeks ago by text. A weekend away with your best friend sounded like the perfect way to reset before you took on the next challenge the following week. Your best friend, Daisy (not her real name but she hated her real name and never used it) was more than up for an adventure so you packed your bags and left as soon as possible. The drive to Tupper Lake was over five hours, it went quickly with you driving and your friend in the passenger seat,

“I think I’m going to quit my job.”

“Oh yeah? And how are you going to pay bills without the crappy job you have?” Your friend grinned at you, and you just smiled back serenely. The day was too beautiful to worry too much over the specifics,

“You never know what could happen, Daisy. Maybe I’ll meet the man of my dreams whilst we’re here. I’m just fed up with dealing with creepy bosses, crappy men, and never feeling like I’m in control. This weekend away with you is going to change everything for me, I can feel it.”

You were being stupidly optimistic, but thankfully Daisy indulged you, closing her eyes in the sunlight like a cat,

“You know I’ve been looking for good luck since forever, so send it my way when you find it, yeah?”

You take her hand over the console. It would be a good weekend no matter what, and you could spend it with her, there was nothing better. Everything else could wait.

Bucky bought the piece of shit boat from a nice looking guy who clearly was too bored to pay attention to the fake ID he was given, which didn’t bother him in the least. The seller barely looked up from his phone as he took his money, gave him a form to fill out, and handed him the keys,

“Enjoy the ride, man.”

“Will do, have a good weekend.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Bucky smirked to himself as he left, spinning the keys around his index finger idly. Usually he wouldn’t bother buying something outright, but the place that he would usually rent a boat from had upgraded its security system, and he didn’t want his face on a camera. Tupper Lake had been good to him the last few years, he didn’t want to have to leave the nest of his golden goose any time soon, and that meant staying off the radar every time he and Steve were in town. Currently his best friend was sourcing them a new truck, probably seducing a pretty sales lady into giving him a massive discount.

Bucky hooked up the boat to his truck - she’ll be going to the scrap yard in two days time, but she was doing him proud for now, and drove out into the street and headed for the lake, whistling as he did so. It was a beautiful day to take a boat out onto the lake for sure, a day like today made him grateful for his freedom, something he never wanted to take for granted again.

That’s why he was so careful.

The sun was low on the horizon by the time Bucky was making his way over the water, the motor was louder than he would like but better to find out now than tomorrow night, that’s why he did these things early, after all. When he got to the point he liked, Bucky stopped the engine, stuck on his cap and set up the fishing line he had. Not that he gave a crap about whatever little things bit at the line, that wasn’t the catch he was hoping to hook. Bucky smiled as he leant back in the boat and glanced over at the massive home on his right, he then took his binoculars and gazed casually over the lake, making ‘notes’ in his notepad about the birds that he was seeing flying overhead and nesting on the banks.

Bucky genuinely enjoyed bird watching, it was why he was the one to do the lake reconnaissance. He could better play the part of an idle fisherman who liked the wildlife than Steve who couldn’t give a shit about that stuff.

It wasn’t really the fish or the birds that he cared about though.

“Steve?” Bucky put the call on speaker and put down the binoculars, letting his face drift upwards to feel the last of the sun's heat, “Yeah the intel was good. The house is empty.”

“Is it as stacked as the woman at the property maintenance company told us?”

“Oh yeah. Everything that I can see just in the dining room alone is worth a fortune.”

Steve laughed at that, “What is it with these rich assholes? I mean, I’m grateful, but man are they stupid.”

“Yeah well, they’re insured, what do they care?” Bucky took a swig from the bottle of water in his bag, “It’s empty, we can move forward tomorrow night. I think we need to focus on the art in this house, I can check the bedrooms when I’m in to see if there’s jewellery.”

“Sounds good. See you back at the cabin.”

Bucky hung up and started the boat back up. Jobs like this were easy. This massive ‘cabin’ was isolated, had private entries on land and by water, and it had a security system a kid could learn how to hack. In forty eight hours, he and his best friend would be sitting on over a million bucks worth of goods, with a buyer already waiting on the shit. They’d be sitting pretty in Indonesia by the end of the week for another year, before they needed to come back and do this again.

The damn motor on the boat was a problem though, Bucky vowed to have a look and get it quieter as he sped away, the motor was so loud it disguised the sounds of your car as it ambled up the drive just after sunset.

You made it into town with just a few minutes to spare to grab the keys and security codes from the management company, they gave you the directions to the cabin and an emergency number to contact if there were any problems but you were told by the kindly and overly glamorous looking woman that as it was almost the weekend they weren’t likely to come out until Monday,

“Things can be a little slower out here than in the city, girls!”

You look at Daisy who just stares at the woman blankly before smiling at the woman as brightly as you can manage,

“Oh that’s fine. Thanks for your help!”

By the time you’ve stopped at a grocery store and found the property the sun is just about set, you can hear a boat somewhere on the river nearby but you don’t pay it too much attention. The visage of the house renders both you and your friend complain speechless for a minute.

“I thought your friend said this place was a cottage?!”

You blink up at the three story mansion and shrug, “I really don’t want to think about what the ‘cottage’ she grew up in looks like.” You grab your travel bag and a bag of groceries, and head to the front door, taking out the information on the security system as you do,

“Apparently she hasn’t been here in months so it’s probably going to be barren in here, so- oh for fucks sake.”

The door opens to reveal a massive open entry hall, leading to rooms filled with pieces of art, expensive furniture, high end technology and a kitchen that a Michelin star kitchen would envy. You and your friend walk around the rooms in a daze, sighing in defeat when you realise the fridge and pantry are fully stocked, and then groaning when you get to your guest bedrooms.

Your entire shared apartment could fit in just one of these rooms, with ample storage space to spare.

Daisy started laughing, throwing her bag on her bed, “Fuck it, this is a good luck sign. In a few years we’ll be that rich that we can buy this place from her family and come here every year!”

You smile, heading into your own family home sized bedroom with en-suite, leaving your friend to her whoops of glee. Really, she wasn’t wrong, this was a great start to the week you had before your lives were going to change for the better. It had to be

You and Daisy spend the next day enjoying yourselves in the exquisite space you’d been given, feeling very much like pampered princesses living in the lap of luxury. It was a beautiful summer's day, the majority of it was spent lounging outside in your swimsuits, a pitcher of margaritas nearby, just allowing yourselves to relax for a change. After everything, you really felt you deserved it.

Eventually you both went to bed, and you forget to set the alarm.

The boat sliced through the pitch black waters quieter than a mouse, the hours Bucky had spent on the motor paid off brilliantly. It was just after midnight, Bucky would crack the security in a few minutes, Steve would pull up just after one and they would take two hours to bring out everything they wanted to the truck, Bucky would bring the smaller things like jewellery to the boat, and they would be gone at least an hour before the sun rose, no one the wiser and sitting on another years worth of fun money. Bucky was feeling good as he hooked the boat to the wooden platform and stalked up towards the house, his eyes firmly on the door, looking for the blinking light to indicate where the security alarm was hooked…

Bucky got to the back door and blinked. The alarm wasn’t engaged at all.

He narrowed his eyes at the situation for a few moments, hitting the ear piece,

“Steve?”

“Problem?”

“No, not exactly.”

Steve huffed in his ear, “What then? Is there a dog the bitch didn’t tell us about? A cat? A fucking pile of diamonds that you can’t lift?” Bucky rolled his eyes at his friends impatience,

“No, asshole, the alarm isn’t set.” Steve paused, and Bucky waited. They could run the risk, rich people could get careless with their second (or third or fourth or fifth) homes sometimes. It wasn’t like they needed the money… Was it worth risking jail…

“You know I hate budgeting, Buck, I want that payday. Open the door and see what’s up.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t need the money, but having more was always better than having none after all.

Bucky knelt down, took his tools out, and then chuckled when he realised the door wasn’t even locked,

“Steve, this can’t be real. I don’t even need to pick the lock.”

“Well, then these fuckers deserve to get robbed blind. I’ll be there soon, Buck.”

“I’ll leave the main door open, unless, you know, it’s already got flowers and a welcome mat for you.”

Steve laughed and hung up, and Bucky swung the door open, looking around the grand looking living space silently. The back door closed quietly behind him, and he took careful steps into the room, taking stock of the small items he would inevitably put into one of the four duffells he had with him… and that’s when he saw what he’d missed as he was looking through the dark windows.

Glasses. Food waste. Some clothing.

People were here. Judging by the shoes and the fact there were only two glasses that he could see, Bucky assumed only two women.

Interesting.

The house was quiet so, hoping the two women were asleep, he went deadly silent and ghosted through the ground floor, the elusive surprise guests were nowhere he could find, so he started climbing the steps to the first floor… this floor was also empty, just one master bedroom, and a private library and gym. Bucky quickly scanned the bedroom, took note of where the storage was and where the safe was likely to be, and left, he would come back once the guests were secure. That just left the floor above which had the guest bedrooms.

Bucky’s blood pumped hot through his veins, part frustration, part fear, and just a little part excitement. These little robbing trips were so easy most of the time, the thrill of breaking and entering rich peoples homes when they weren’t there had long since lost its allure, and whilst he loved the idyllic life he had, that got boring too. Bucky and Steve had the perfect little haven, and he did love his solitude, but shit got lonely, especially in the last five years. Now even the job had become boring. It was all just so expected. Normal.

This was different. New.

Exciting.

There were four bedrooms on this floor according to the floor plan that he had been given, he expected to find the two little interlopers in the bedrooms facing the lake, but he checked the other two first to be sure, and then quietly locked those doors before treading silently to the the door on the left, it was slightly ajar, giving him an improved chance of not waking whoever was inside. The door opened silently when he pushed it, the clouds parted as he stepped into the room, and that was when he saw you, bathed in moonlight on the bed, the covers tangled around your waist, one leg exposed and bent at the knee. Both your arms were over your head, he could see the swells of your breasts under the cute strappy pyjama top you were wearing… and look at that, there was a little moon cartoon drawn on that space in between your tits…

“Pretty little Moonbeam…” Bucky didn’t realise he’d said that out loud until your eyelids fluttered open. Bucky stared at you for two long seconds as you woke up, your lips parted, and he swooped down and covered your mouth with his hand. He liked that you went completely still and didn’t fight him, he still had to get what he assumed was your friend secured before he could explore this unexpected prize. Bucky slowly sat on the bed next to you, and put his fingers to his lips,

“Will you be quiet for me, Moonbeam? I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise, I’m only here to rob the place. No need for any fuss, okay?” Bucky sighed when you nodded under his hand, and smiled as friendly as he could, “Good girl. I wasn’t expecting people here, I’m sorry if I scared you. Can you roll onto your front for me? I won’t hurt you, really.”

Bucky absolutely had no intention of hurting you… but there were other more pleasurable ways to make a woman scream. He took the cable ties he always had out of his pocket - they were the best for securing heavy items together - and kept his hand in place as you awkwardly did as you were told and rolled to your front. You were trembling slightly, so he tried to ease you slightly as he took one wrist and brought it behind your back,

“There you go, now the other one, you’re doing so well, baby, I won’t leave you like this, it’s just so you don’t hurt yourself whilst I do what I need to okay? I’m just trying to make some money, you understand that, don’t you?” Obviously you couldn’t answer directly, but the barely perceptible nod you gave went straight to his cock, and that was before he tugged on the sheet and saw the shorts covering your ass, your cheeks just peeking out of the hems from where they’d risen on your hips…

Bucky paused, the cable tie in his hand, his eyes on your perfect ass, his other hand over your mouth. He needed you to be silent whilst he got your friend, but he needed both hands to tie you up so you didn’t run and make him knock you out. He leaned forwards so he could meet your eyes. Your eyes were wide and bright in the moonlight, they hooked onto his and you didn’t look away, Bucky smiled as softly as he could,

“I need both hands, Moonbeam, will you be quiet if I stop holding your mouth? Please say yes. I don’t want to knock you out, and I don’t want to gag you.” He let out a sigh of relief when you nodded, but he gripped a little harder before he let go, “Don’t let me down, baby, I’m trusting you.” Slowly, he let go… and you just coughed quietly and stared up at him,

“We weren’t supposed to be here.”

“I didn’t know you would be. I’m glad I found you though.” Bucky took your wrists and tied them securely, “That’s not too tight, no?”

“No.”

“Good,” Bucky then tied your ankles, brought them to your back, and used a third tie to secure both together, leaving you completely immoble. He heard your breathing pick up, especially as he gave into his desire and he touched you over your back, rubbing circles in soothing circles… lower. He stopped at the curve of your ass and rested his hand there, using his free hand to move your face around so he could look at you easier,

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you… you have a boyfriend, Moonbeam?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, your body held tightly now that his hand was where it shouldn’t be, and you shook your head, “N-no… why do you keep on calling me that?”

“Because, I saw you in the moonlight. Never seen anyone so goddamn beautiful in my life. Think I might want to take you rather than all this shit in this house.” Now you slightly struggled, but a quick spank and you stilled again, “Now don’t make me gag you, Moonbeam. It’s okay, by the morning you’ll want to come with me, anyway. Now stay here, I’m going to get your… is she your friend? Or is it a guy in there?”

The rush of anger that went through Bucky at the thought of a guy staying with you was indescribable, and shocking, he’d never felt jealous before. Thankfully you shook your head and whispered,

“It’s my friend, but please don’t hurt her-”

“Is she as pretty as you are?”

“W-what?”

“Right,” Bucky squeezed your cheek, and then stood up over you, “I’m going to get her and bring her here. Scream and wake her up, and I’ll hurt her in front of you, Moonbeam, you understand?”

Bucky turned away before he could hear your gasp. He had no intention of hurting either of you, not really, but thankfully you didn’t test his threat and stayed deadly quiet as he opened the door to the other room. Your friend was on her front, and stirred just as he reached the edge of the bed, she fought a lot more than you did, Bucky growled when she even got her teeth into his right hand, but he tied her wrists and ankles and then slung her over his shoulder to bring to your room. Your friend was just as gorgeous as you were, but even though he could admit that, it was you that he wanted spread under him, you who he could see walking with him on the beach back home, you who he wanted in his kitchen and in his bed…

Unfortunately your friend started shrieking once she saw you on the bed, so he dropped her to her feet, and gagged her quickly, shoving some cloth in her mouth whilst he grabbed his phone,

“Moonbeam, I have to make a phone call, tell your friend to calm the fuck down.”

He could hear your whispers to your friend as he went to the hallway and stood at the top of the staircase, the phone rang once and then Steve answered,

“Steve, we may have a problem.”

“Tell me.”

“The house wasn’t empty. There’s two women here.” Bucky quickly assured Steve that he’d secured them, before describing them quickly. As expected, Steve hummed in thought, “The other one, she sounds… fun.” Bucky grinned, he knew his friend's taste, “How far away are you?”

“Be about thirty minutes.”

“Can I take a peek?”

“You found them, Buck. I trust you.”

Bucky hung the phone up, and took a moment before going back to the bedroom, sighing when he saw your friends mouth at the cable ties holding you captive, trying to bite at them and snap them, he pulled her away on a huff of annoyance,

“What are you gonna do there? Neither of you can walk, your hands are useless, how are you helping?” Bucky glared at your friend who didn’t back down from the angry stare. He had to smile. Steve was going to love her.

“Okay, fireball, just relax, please? I already told my Moonbeam I’m not going to hurt you, and I meant it. All me and my friend want is the shit in the house.”

“You asked if she has a boyfriend- hey!”

Bucky grabbed the gag and shoved it back in her mouth, and then went to you, stroking his hand over your cheek,

“Are you okay, Moonbeam?”

“Can you let us go? We have the car, we can just go, we’ll wait a few hours before calling the cops, we were asleep the whole time, right? You can get your stuff, and we can just go-”

“Sorry, Moonbeam, you’ve both seen my face now. You’re going to have to come with us.”

“B-but-”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, baby.” Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling the penknife from his pocket, and quickly went to reassure you, “No, don’t worry, this is just to take the ties from your legs, okay?” You were trembling again as he undid the ties keeping you hogtied, and then the ones on your ankles, and the tie on your friends legs as well.

Now, the fun could begin.

Bucky took your upper arm, and gently helped you from the bed, leading you over to a couch in the opposite corner. It was large, the cushions looked comfy enough to sleep on, and they moulded wonderfully to you when Bucky sat you down on them. He stared down at you, biting his bottom lip briefly when he could see more of your cleavage down your top,

“Stay there, Moonbeam, I’ll be back.”

You did as you were told. You were perfect.

Unlike your friend who tried to roll away, shrieking indignantly when he grabbed her and dragged her off the bed and to the couch, dumping her next to you. Bucky smirked at the look she gave him, if looks could kill, he knew he would be dead on the spot. He went to his knees in front of you both, his right hand on one of your legs, and his left on your friends,

“Listen ladies, I’m telling you the truth when I say that I won’t hurt either of you. I’m not going to beat or kill you, I’m not that kind of an asshole, do you believe me?”

The fiery friend rolled her eyes, jerking her leg away from his touch, but you - trembling and fearful though you were - held his gaze, and slowly nodded,

“You won’t hurt us. I believe you.”

“Good girl.”

“Y-you won’t hurt us, but… you want us?”

Bucky squeezed your knee, let his palm drift a little higher,

“Yeah, Moonbeam, I really kind of do. I mean, I want you mostly, but Steve - my friend, he’s not going to be long - will definitely want your friend, and we’re more than happy sharing.”

Your breathing picks up at that, your leg tenses underneath his palm, but you don’t pull away. In fact, if Bucky were a guessing man, he would say that you were turned on by the idea. He knew he was attractive, he’d used it to seduce information out of marks before. He worked out regularly and tried to eat a good diet, kept his hair a little longer and kept just enough stubble that it made his eyes look brighter and knew it would enhance pleasure when he went down on someone.

God, he wanted that with you. One look at you drenched in moonlight and he was a goner.

“I think you don’t mind the idea, huh, Moonbeam, in fact…” Bucky let his eyes drift down, and sure enough, your nipples were hard against the cotton of your top, “You want me inside you, don’t you, baby? I bet you’re even a little wet… Can I look, Moonbeam? You can pretend you don’t like it, it’s okay, I won’t tell.”

Your thighs rub together slightly, not desperately, but Bucky can tell. You shake your head, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself,

“People know we’re here, you can’t just-”

“You’ll be long gone and impaled on my cock on a beach far away by the time anyone realises you’re gone, Moonbeam.” Bucky kneels up and leans over you, his lips at your ear, his hands resting on your shoulders, fingers hovering over the straps of your top, “How would you like that? Me taking you from behind, your face in your friend's cunt, as she sucks on my friend's dick?” Your breath catches, your friend goes completely still, and Bucky grins, pressing one thigh in between yours, and his other in between your friends, “I’ll treat you so good. I can prove just how good, right now.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Your legs are open, you’re not fighting him, even your friend's breathing has changed from fury to just the barest hint of desire. He stands up over both of you, reaches for the hem of his black Henley, and pulls it over his head. Bucky looks at you as you take him in, your eyes latch onto his metal arm for one split second, but then you look all over his body, the pulse in your neck gets faster and that only makes his cock impossibly harder in his pants. He takes a grip of it, and that's when he hears you groan. Bucky grins,

“I’ve shown you mine, ladies, now let’s see what you have hidden.” Anticipation is sweet, which is why Bucky went to your friend first, his hands at the neckline of the tank top she wore. She held his gaze as he slowly tore the cotton open, exposing her underneath, “Yeah, you’re a real pretty one. Steve is gonna love you.” Bucky quickly looked over at you, your eyes bright in the darkness, but no longer in fear. Feeling more than a little bold, he quickly bent his head and flicked at your friends nipple with his tongue… sure enough, the look you gave him wasn’t of horror,

“You jealous, Moonbeam? Would you prefer if I was sucking on your pretty tits instead?”

You didn’t nod your head, you just looked away. That was okay, you were still struggling with what you were feeling, this wasn’t a usual situation. Bucky spent another few seconds testing how your friend's breasts felt in his hands, against his lips, in his mouth. He came up for air, grinning in her face, amused at how she was glaring at him, but she had the same tell tale signs you did.

Both of you were enjoying this, you just didn’t want to admit it.

Bucky tweaked her nipple, and then leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss, whispering against your friends lips,

“Gotta give Steve a good report, I’ll call him in a second, plus I want to make my Moonbeam a little insane before I see what she looks like under her clothes.”

Your friend doesn’t reply, instead she groans when Bucky reaches down and tugs her pyjama bottoms off and brings them down her legs. His eyes dip down, and he sighs in pleasure at the sight in front of him, before looking at you,

“Moonbeam, I really want to have a look at your friends pussy, but I want to see in between your legs first,” Bucky patted your friends knee, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m sure you’re real beautiful but I want my Moonbeam coming on my hand before you, is that okay?”

Bucky doesn’t give her a chance to respond, instead he comes back to you, and puts his palms on the couch cushions on either side of your head. His knees hurt a little from the prolonged contact with the floor, but he doesn’t mind, he’ll stay on his knees in front of you for the rest of time if that’s what you want. Bucky leans forward, taking in that pulse in your neck, the way your eyes shine in the dark, how heavily you’re breathing…

“Pretend you don’t want me to touch you if you want… but we both know that you want me inside your gorgeous body, don’t we?”

For ten long seconds, Bucky thinks that you’re going to deny it, make him prove what he knows to be true, but instead,ever so slowly, you open your legs around his waist. Bucky nearly comes in his pants as you do, and he reaches out and cups your cheek,

“You really are the best treasure I could’ve found here, Moonbeam.”

With that, he takes the straps of your top and tugs them down your shoulders, peeling the rest of the cotton to your waist so he can look at your now exposed chest,

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty, tits just made to be in my mouth,” Bucky reaches up and holds you in his palms, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, before leaning forward and capturing one in his mouth whilst he continued rolling the other in his left hand. He could hear your friend scold you in his ear, which made him smile against your skin, “Don’t tell off Moonbeam, you fiery little hypocrite. I know that when I open your legs in a few minutes I’m going to see you creaming. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Stevie and I are very generous lovers, ladies, we’ll both make sure you guys come first. Speaking of…” Bucky ignored your friend so he could kiss you long and slow.

Your mouth was intoxicating, you kissed him so sweetly, still a little nervous, probably a little overwhelmed, but that was fine by him. The point was you kissed him back.

“I d-don’t… oh…”

Your slight protest trailed off when Bucky let his right hand drop from your breast to between your legs, over the shorts that you wore. The heat he could feel made his mouth water, you were so damp already, Bucky took a gentle hold over your throat with his left hand, keeping his eyes on yours… and then he dipped under the material to run his index finger up and down your slit,

“Shhhh… you’re like heaven, Moonbeam, already drenched for me, you’re gonna be a tight fit, aren’t you? Let me just… fuck…” Bucky eased his ring finger inside, just up to the knuckle, and kept his thumb on your clit, “you’re already fluttering around me, are you that turned on, you little slut?” Bucky didn’t wait for a reply, instead he pulled his finger out from you, and sucked it clean, “Perfect. I’m going to look at you now, okay? Lift your ass for me, good girl.” Bucky pulled the shorts away, and then spread your legs as wide as he could, then he moved your friend slightly and did the same to her.

You were both beautiful, but his eyes were more drawn to you. He couldn’t explain it, but everything about you called to him. Bucky palmed himself over his cargo pants again, urging himself to calm down when he saw your hole clench around nothing, and rubbed his hand over his mouth,

“Okay, ladies, first one to come gets to suck me off, how’s that for a deal?” Bucky winked at you, “I kind of hope it’s you, Moonbeam, I really want to see those pretty lips stretched around my dick… both sets of lips.” To emphasise the point, Bucky ran his right hand back up your leg, and parted your lower lips with his fingers, “You have a perfect cunt, baby.” Bucky did the same to your friend, “Yours is beautiful too, but I think Steve is going to be more interested in your ass.”

Bucky then put both his index and middle fingers inside your mouths, waiting whilst you both swirled your tongues around the digits then-

“-fuck!” His phone started ringing, and Bucky hastily put it on speaker before carefully pushing his fingers inside both of you at the same time, the gasps of you both filled the space as Steve’s voice came on the speaker,

“Is the door open for me, Buck? I’m like two minutes away.”

“Nope, I forgot. I’m busy right now, Stevie - oh, I think your girl likes the sound of your voice, Steve, she just started dripping.” Bucky ignored the sound of Steve’s growl, choosing instead to lean down and lap at your clit - he really wanted you to win this bet. Bucky could suddenly hear the sound of the front door being broken into, “You want me to do anything else to your girl, Stevie?” Bucky grinned as he gently used his pinkie to test both you and your friend's back passages, “You’re gonna be happy, I think your girl is an anal virgin!”

The sound of smashing glass made both of you shriek, and Bucky frowned, “Fuck you! You made my girl jump!”

Steve bounded up the stairs, and kicked the door open. Bucky pulled his fingers from your friend, using the now free hand to pull you closer to him so he could go a little deeper inside you,

“Go take her to her room, Steve. I think we can take a day here, can’t we?”

Your friend stared open mouthed at Steve, his hair was dishevelled, his chest was heaving, and his sea green eyes had latched firmly onto your friend. Even Bucky could see that his friend’s reaction was immediate.

He definitely liked her.

“Yeah sure, Buck. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, Steve swooped down and grabbed your friend, who promptly started struggling, the sound of her complaints and Steve’s laughter making him grin.

Bucky turned back to you, his attention could finally focus entirely on you and everything he wanted to do.

“Alone at last.”

Your head swam with all the chaos and insanity the last hour had brought you. All you’d wanted was a nice break away, and instead you’d ended up in the crosshairs of a pair of robbers, and the brunette's fingers bringing you way too close to what you could already tell was going to the best orgasm of your life.

You close your eyes when you hear the distant and distinct sounds of spanking, and your friends' breathy moans. Apparently this ‘Steve’ had figured out her kink and was using it against her mercilessly.

Too bad that ‘Buck’ had figured out yours as well. Or maybe not bad. Or possibly it was terrible, except it felt wonderful-

“Come for me, Moonbeam, then I’m going to come down your throat.”

It should make you terrified, you shouldn’t want this, but you let yourself fly apart on his fingers, riding them desperately as the feeling slowly fades and you’re left breathless and exhausted. You don’t fight as your captor undoes your wrists from the cable ties, and positions you so you’re on your front along the cushions of the couch. Energy zips through you when you see the man get as naked as you in front of you, you’re curious about his arm, but you’re too distracted by his cock that right in front of your face.

He gets on the couch next to you, dragging you upwards so your face is in his lap, and he pushes himself at your lips,

“Suck it good, Moonbeam, then I’m gonna fuck you all night.” You hesitate for the briefest second - he was larger than you had had before - but a quick tap to your ass brought your face closer, “Don’t keep me waiting any longer, you tease.”

“I’m not teasing you… I’m just nervous.” You chance a look up at him, “You come barging in, re-name me, finger fuck me and my friend and now you’re talking about kidnapping us and probably taking us out of the country, I’m allowed to be nervous!” Your nails dig into the muscle of his thigh - and you clench yours together at the strength in them, at the thought of sitting astride one and riding it until you’re spent… “Just take it slow? Please? I don’t even know your name.”

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he leaned down and kissed you again. He’s too good at that, immediately you’re relaxing into his lap as he holds you to him, like you belong there…

“My name is Bucky, Moonbeam.”

“Bucky?”

“Yep, get used to saying, soon you’ll be chanting it.” With that, Bucky gets up and stands in front of you, “Open wide. When I’m done, get on all fours on the bed.”

The sun rose hours later, with you draped over Bucky’s chest. Your skin tingles, even as you ached in all the best ways. The room smelled of sex, sex that was still going as Bucky held your arms at your lower back, and pounded into you from beneath you, his lips at your neck, and his free arm wrapped firmly around your waist keeping you flush against him,

“You feel me, Moonbeam, or is your pretty cunt numb yet? Answer me, baby, or I won’t let you come.”

He’d done this what felt like thousands of times over the last god knows how many hours, teasing you and tormenting you and pleasuring you in equal measure. You were drunk on the taste and feel of him, an addiction now that you didn’t think you could let go even if you wanted to. Good thing you didn’t want to.

Good think Bucky had no intention of letting you go.

“I f-feel you… fuck, Buckyyyy.” The orgasm punches through you, but you’re too fucked out to do more than whine and slump even further forward. Bucky drops your arms, and then throws you on your back next to him, spreading your legs wide and kneeling between them, his fingers spread you wide open, and his metal hand pumps his cock,

“Last one for a while, Moonbeam, all over this pretty body, you did so good, you look so fucking gorgeous- fuck!” On a bark, he finishes all over you, you feel warmth at your cunt, on your stomach, some even reach your tits and neck. You don’t flinch, not anymore, you kind of wish you had the energy to bring it to your lips to take more inside you, but you couldn’t move if you tried. Thankfully Bucky knows what you want, you feel his hands between your legs, pushing himself inside you, and then those same fingers tap at your lips, “Come on now, open up for me, then I’ll let you sleep.”

You groan at the taste of him as it hits your tongue, and smile when he gets back into bed beside you, draping the covers neatly over you and bringing you firmly to his side. You’re almost asleep when the door to the bedroom is opened on a creak and you hear Bucky talking to his friend, Steve,

“How is yours?”

You hear Steve chuckle, “Never had better, and I got the scratch marks to prove it.” There’s a jostle on the bed and you open your eyes to see a naked Steve place your friend, who is equally naked, on the bed next to you. She looks as blissed out as you are, and she reaches back to Steve on a whine, “Don’t worry, Sunbeam, I’m coming in too, let me look at your friend first, Bucky got to see you.”

It doesn’t even occur to you to be scared when the covers are removed and you feel fingers on your skin that definitely aren’t Bucky’s,

“Pretty. I’m glad we found some good ones finally.”

“Me too, buddy.”

“We’ll give them a couple of hours, then we need to get motivated and go.”

Steve gets in and drags your friend next to him, casually lifting one of her thighs so he can ease into her from behind. He grins when he sees you looking, “My little Sunbeam has a warm pussy, I never want to leave it.”

Your friend rolls her eyes… but she smiles, and after a moment so do you.

“Are you okay with this, Y/N?” Your friend whispers to you. You see Steve reach around and wrap a hand around her throat, but she’s not afraid, she just leans back into his touch. Bucky nuzzles against your neck, his right bicep under head like a pillow whilst his left hand fondles your breast… you’re not overwhelmed or nervous anymore.

“I really am.”

You knew going away for the weekend was a good idea.

594 notes · View notes

princessphilly · 4 days

Text

So good

So so good

@chara-hugs @whoeverineedtobe

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his creations.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the pain smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

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