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st4rfckerz · 2 months

Text

Film Me | Sam Monroe x Reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, choking, slapping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, multiple orgasms, very slight dumbification, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, pet names, Sam’s a bully

summary: Sam wants everything documented.

The black, cool sheets against your skin and the softness of Sam's pillow lays under your head. You feel vulnerable, exposed wearing nothing but one of Sam's big band t-shirts and a pair of dark blue cotton panties. But there's also a sense of power. You're the one he's focusing on, the one he's capturing on film. You're the center of his attention, and that's a heady feeling.

Sam moves around you, the camcorder in his hand. He zooms in on your face, your body. He captures every curve, every line. He wants to remember this moment, this encounter. He wants to be able to replay it over and over again.

"There she is," Sam whispers, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wave to the camera pretty girl." He nods towards the camcorder. Reluctantly, you lift your hand and give a shy wave to the lens. It feels weird, almost intimate, waving hello to an intrusive machine. Yet, there's a strange excitement coursing through you too.

Sam's fingers dance over the camera settings, adjusting the focus and lighting with practiced ease. His gaze flickers between you and the screen, a predatory glint in his eyes. His grin widens as he begins to set up the camera, checking and rechecking the angles, ensuring that every move, every touch, every sound you make will be captured perfectly.

Sam saunters over to you on the bed, his eyes locked onto yours. There's a hunger in his gaze, a desire that's almost palpable. He grabs your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin and leans in, his lips brushing against yours. It's a soft, teasing kiss at first but then he deepens it, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You can taste the weed in his breath, the slight hint of alcohol. It's intoxicating, and you find yourself leaning into him, wanting more. Sam's hand slid down your body as you continued to kiss, his fingers slowly making their way under you panties. Your skin was warm and smooth, the feeling sending a new wave of pleasure through him. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as he explored your wet cunt.

"Wet already baby?" he coos in your ear. You arched your back slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips as he slowly grazed his finger along your slit. Sam pulled back slightly, his eyes glued to the little screen on his camera as he removed your panties and discarded them to the side. He admired your body, taking in the sight of your bare cunt before him. He swiftly pushed his boxers and jeans down while undoing his studded belt, his heart pounding in his chest.

Without missing a beat, he positions himself above you, aligning his hips with yours. He continues to record the entire process, making sure to capture every detail. Slowly, he slides into you, filling you up completely.

“Shit,” Sam breathes out. The camera shakes slightly with each movement, adding a raw and intimate element to the footage. “Grippin’ me so good Angel.” With a growl, Sam increases the intensity of his thrusts, driving deeper into you with each movement. Your moans reverberate through the room, adding another layer of intensity to the scene. He points the camera down to show how your cunt greedily swallows his cock, ensuring the viewer can see every nuance of your reactions. You arch your back, meeting his every thrust, your moans growing louder and more desperate.

“Don’t stop Sam, please.” you whine, your face increasingly gets more flushed as the heat in the room rises.

“Needy.” he teases. His thrusts continue, each one harder and faster than before. You writhe beneath him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pushes you closer to the edge. Your breath hitches as Sam suddenly brings his hand up to your throat, his grip firm but not painful. He squeezes gently, giving you a sense of dominance. Then, with a sharp crack, he slaps you across the face, the sound echoing in the room. Surprised yet turned on, you moan loudly, your body buckling under his expert touch.

“You like that huh?” Another slap. “You like getting slapped around like a whore?” Sam tightens his hold on your throat once more, causing you to gasp for air. As you struggle to breathe, you clench around him, signaling your approaching orgasm. His thrusts become more erratic, reflecting his own impending release. The camera shakes uncontrollably in his hand now, the view jittery and off-balance. Sam's eyes spark with triumph, knowing he's about to send you over the edge.

“Cum on my cock baby, I feel you,” He releases your throat to grab your hip for stability, freeing your airway just in time for your orgasm, just the first of the evening, to wash over you. The camera records your face contorting in pleasure, the muscles in your neck straining as you scream out his name.

Sam follows suit shortly after, his release pulsating within you. As you catch your breath, Sam leans down to kiss you passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity he displayed moments ago. His hands roam over your body, cupping your tits and kneading them roughly. You moan into the kiss, your body still tingling from the intense experience. The camera captures your lips locked together, the sound of your heavy breathing filling the silence. Sam breaks the kiss, trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. His hands slide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. As he reaches your waist, he pauses, looking up at you with desire in his eyes. You nod, encouraging him to continue, and he smiles before moving lower, his lips brushing against your skin as he explores further.

Sam reaches your swollen, leaking cunt, his eyes widen in appreciation. "Oh, she’s pretty." he murmurs, his fingers parting your lips gently. He leans in and blows cool air onto the sensitive flesh.The cold air contrasts with the warmth from earlier, heightening your sensitivity. He lingers there, teasing you with the chill before placing a soft kiss on your core. The camera captures the tender gesture, a soft whine escapes your lips and your body jerks in response. He dips his head, licking a path along your folds, savoring the taste of yours and his fluids intertwined with each other.

“S-sam ‘m still sensitive.” you cry out while still threading your fingers in his dark hair.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam states firmly. "Hold the camera, baby." he instructs, his voice low and seductive. You reach for the camera, your hands shaking slightly. As you take hold of it, the viewpoint shifts, now capturing Sam from your perspective.

Sam settles between your legs, positioning himself comfortably. His hands rest on your thighs, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns. You watch from the camera, your heart pounding in anticipation. His tongue flickers out, teasing your most sensitive spot. His face is close enough to the lens that you can see the concentration in his features, the eagerness in his eyes. The camera shakes slightly as you try to keep it steady, but the image remains clear. Sam's tongue darts in and out, mimicking his earlier thrusts. His nose grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine. The camera captures everything - the angle of his head, the movements of his tongue, the way your body responds to his touches.

Your moan fills the room when Sam wraps his lips around your clit and sucks at it harshly, making you squeal. It felt like it was too much to handle, especially when he starts thrusting his fingers inside you unexpectedly.

“You taste so good angel.” His hot breath fans over your skin. He spits onto your warm, wet skin harshly before diving his tongue back into your drooling hole.You whimper and your hips buck involuntarily, causing him to slap your pussy, the sound reverberating through the room.

“Stop fucking moving.” Sam growls. Anticipation builds, your breaths coming in short bursts. You mumble a whiny ‘sorry’ before Sam resumes his attention, his tongue darting in and out, his lips pulling you into his mouth. His fingers increase their pace, your moans growing louder and more desperate. Sam gazes up at you, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You meet his gaze, your eyes filled with gratitude and need.

“Sam, I’m gonna…I’m- ,” You warn him with a whiny voice. Your thighs clamp tightly around his head, keeping him locked in your hold.

“Do it then, cum now.”

When your orgasm hits, it's sudden and powerful, tears pricking your eyes. Your back arches and your fingers mercilessly tug at Sam’s locks. Your moans fill the room, loud and unrestrained. Sam continues his assault to help you ride out your orgasm. The little camera hardly keeps up, but manages to capture the essence of your climax. You cry out his name, your face twisted with pleasure and relief. Sam’s tongue never leaves you, milking every drop of satisfaction from you. When you finally fall limp, panting heavily, he releases you, his own arousal evident. The camera focuses on your spent body, the evidence of his masterful skills.

Sam slithers up your body and instantly locks his messy lips to yours. “You wanna show the camera how pretty you are with my cock in your mouth?” he asks with a sly smirk. A blush creeps up your face and you let out a shy giggle. “That’s my girl.” Sam mumbles as he gently flips you both over. You move down his body and see his erection standing proud once again. You reach his prodding hip bones and give them both a sweet kiss before reaching his hardened cock.

With one hand gently holding the back of your head, and the other around the base of his cock, Sam slaps it against your cheek, eager by your pathetic attempts to get him to insert his cock into your mouth instead. He eventually moves his tip past your lips and you begin to hollow your cheeks and suck on it slowly. Sam looks at you lovingly as you suck on his cock, tears running down your cheeks from the lack of oxygen in your body and the physical strain. “Fuck you’re so good.” He tilts his head back and lets the sweet noises tumble from his swollen lips. “Look at the camera, let me see those eyes.”

You remove your mouth from Sam’s cock and wrap your fingers around its base before sliding it up and down and twisting at the head. You gaze up at the smal, silver machine through hooded eyes and flick your thumb across the slit at the top while tonguing the underside of the head.

“Do I look good Sam?” you ask with blown irises and a dopey smile. A low chuckle rumbles from Sam’s chest.

“You always do baby, fuck- always pretty f’me,” He responds. Anakin's breath quickens and his hips jerk slightly, telltale signs that he was getting close - and fast. He gingerly removes you off his pulsing cock suddenly. “I don’t wanna cum in your mouth.”

“On your stomach angel, ass up.” he demands as he peppers your face with small kisses.

“But I wanted you to-” you complain, your voice was quiet and worn from your last two orgasms and from having Sam’s thick cock down your throat. Sam quickly grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks together, interrupting you in the process.

“What did I say?” Sam grits through his teeth. He leans in for a rough kiss, his tongue sliding against your own. “I’m not gonna ask again.” Sam places the camera on the nightstand next to you both and adjusts the angle, ensuring the new perspective captures both of your faces, as well as your bodies. The camera shakes with the intensity of the moment, but remains focused on the two of you. He pulls away, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Still panting slightly, you roll onto your stomach obediently, your ass sticking up invitingly. With a flick of his wrist, he slaps your ass, the sound startling in the post-coital quiet. It takes a moment for your mind to register the sensation, then a blush creeps up your neck. “You look so pretty like this Angel.” He slaps again, gently at first, then harder.

You whine softly, needing more from him despite your exhausted state. Sam chuckles and cocks his head to the side teasingly. "What do you want, baby?" he asks. You push your hips back towards him, wanting his touch again. "More?" He asks, his tone filled with promise. You nod, too embarrassed to form words. Sam slaps your ass again.

“I need words sweetheart.” Sam's fingers trace lazy circles on the red handprints on your ass. He leans forward and presses a few wet kisses to your spine. You swallow hard, nerves jangling.

“Need your cock, please Sam.” you whisper back.

“There it is, good job baby.” He positions himself at your entrance, his hands gripping your hips firmly. The camera captures the scene from behind, showing the anticipation etched on your face. Sam slides his member through your folds and coats himself with your wetness, his mouth slightly agape as he does so. Without warning, Sam thrusts into you aggressively. You yelp, your body adjusting to his sudden invasion. His movements are feral, his thrusts hard and deep.

You grip the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric. Your eyes are closed, your breaths coming in short gasps. "Sam s-slow down," you whisper, desperation coloring your voice.

"Nope. ‘M giving you what you need." he prompts, his voice a low rumble. You begin drooling onto the sheet beneath you, your body losing control and your brain turning into a puddle of mush. Sam's thrusts become faster, his breaths hitching. Tears stream down your face, mixing with your saliva on the sheet.

“Only I can fuck you the way you like. Isn’t that right?” Sam wraps his hand in your hair, tugging your head upwards. The camera captures the pain and pleasure intertwined in this gesture. You whimper, your eyes meeting his icy ones. "What did I say?" he commands, his voice firm. Wordless babbles spill from your lips and tears continue to well up in your eyes. His thrusts slow down for a second as he looks at you in your pathetic state.

“Aw poor baby, gone stupid because of some cock huh?” Your lip quivers, and he traces a thumb across your cheek. "It's okay," he whispers, his voice filled with reassurance. He kisses your rosy, tear stained cheek and releases his tight grip from your hair. "Cum for me sweet girl, last one, you got it.” Your body responds, your climax washing over you in waves. Just as you think you'll shatter from the intensity, Sam releases, his name leaving your lips in a hoarse shout.

Sam slowly withdraws, the camera capturing the aftermath. You lie there, panting heavily, your body flush with pleasure. He turns you over, and points the camera down at your defeated cunt just like before. "Beautiful," he says, his voice filled with admiration. He brings his fingers to your sated flesh and pushes the mix of fluids back into your hole. The sudden intrusion makes you yelp lightly.

“Sorry.” he chuckles. He plants a small kiss to your puffy clit and moves up your body to kiss you lovingly. The camera catches this tenderness, the switch from dominance to care. "There she is, look at her," Sam teases, his voice filled with warmth.”Wave bye to the camera baby.” A goofy smile spreads across your face as you wave at the camera again. With a final loving glance, he turns off the small device and sets it back on the nightstand.

"Are you ok? I didn’t go too far did I?" he asks, concern lacing his voice. He lays next to you and wraps you in his embrace. You shake your head, biting your lip to suppress your growing grin.

“I liked it.” you respond meekly. Sam’s smile widens at your words.

“Yeah? Well I’ll still be nicer next time.” His hand traces idle patterns on your back, his gaze never leaving yours. You snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and cared for in his arms.

#nai writes ୨୧ #sam monroe #sam monroe drabble #sam monroe blurb #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe smut #hayden christensen smut #st4rfckerz

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venileix · 18 days

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𝜗𝜚 .Nervous

PAIRING: Sam Monroe x F!reader SYNOPSIS: Sam is new to relationships and needs you to teach him. WARNINGS: sexual content, fluff, fingering, probably a praise kink NOTES: MDNI!, first ever actual attempt at slight smut!

⋆𝜗𝜚˚｡⋆

When Sam found out you liked him, he teased you every chance he got.

Having met in high school, he initially hated you as he hated everyone else, but as the months passed you started to grow on him.

Sam didn't really see you in a romantic light until your last year of school, after you broke up with your, now, ex boyfriend.

You were into him with his dyed hair, piercings, and makeup, but the moment you saw him without all of that, your attraction only grew stronger as he carried himself in an even more confident way somehow.

You spent weeks watching and helping him build the house, and every time you saw him working, the warmth in your chest spread deeper.

It was Friday night, and the two of you always spent the evening together, and as usual, you chose a new movie for the night.

You both were comfortable under the covers of your bed, the only light being from the TV.

You found yourself distracted from the movie after only ten minutes in, your focus now on how you and Sam's bodies are pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder, side to side.

This bed had been the setting to many make-out sessions with the boy next to you, and you had to use every ounce of self restraint to keep yourself from grabbing him and bringing his lips to yours.

"Wait, I thought she was with the other guy," Sam's questioning tone broke you out of your thoughts, and as you turned towards him, the ability to restrain your impulsive actions was thrown out of the window.

You only stared at him, not being able to explain the answer to him even if you wanted to, you hadn't payed attention to a single part of this movie.

You sat in a tense moment of silence, and as his eyes flickered down to your lips, the atmosphere grew thick.

"I don't care," Your voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper as you looked from his eyes to his lips, "But I really want to kiss you right now."

His lips tugged into a slight smirk as he stared down into your eyes, "Can I kiss you?"

You didn't answer, instead, you simply leaned in and captured his lips with your own.

It wasn't long until the kiss became more intense, Sam holding your face as you ran your hands through his hair.

As you went to lift yourself up to turn and sit on his lap, he gently pushed you back until you were laying down with him hovering over you.

As you both fought for dominance in the kiss, Sam's hands began to roam from your face, down to your legs, caressing your thighs.

The bed covers were long thrown off of your bodies, but the room started to feel hot even without the blankets on top of you.

Shivers ran down your body as his hands inched up towards the waist of your little pajama shorts, and you could feel the hesitation in his fingertips.

"Sam," you pull away gently, looking up into his eyes, a dazed grin on your lips as you saw the blush creeping up his neck, "We don't have to go any further."

He lowered himself down closer to you, tilting his head as he left a soft kiss to your neck and whispering into your ear, "I want to."

He pulled away, the intense look in his eyes sent heat down your body.

"I need you to teach me how," His voice was smooth despite how quickly his chest was rising and falling from his nerves.

You look into his eyes, seeing pure love flowing from them.

"Okay," you whisper out, it barely audible as you slowly drag him into a slow kiss, grabbing his hand, guiding it back towards your shorts again.

Sam's hands were chronically cold, and the freezing pads of his fingertips made goosebumps raise on your skin as they slowly made their way into your panties.

He let you guide his movements, pausing in your kiss as you let out a gasp at the feeling of his calloused fingers against yourself.

You made him speed up his movements, eyes closing in bliss as he began to take control, eyes glaring down onto your facial expressions.

You could feel his long fingers gliding through your folds, and you were quick to let out moans at the continuously speeding up movement.

"Am I doing this right?" Sam sounded almost like he was breathless as he used one arm to support himself above you.

"It feels amazing, Sam. You're doing amazing," Your words of praise made him speed up even more, he could feel his chest tightening as he felt you clenching around nothing as his fingers circled up and down your cunt.

With the speed and pressure he was using, you were already close, and you heard him groan as he watched you squeeze your eyes closed and arch you back up into him.

"Sam," You whined out, grasping tightly onto his shoulders, "You're doing so good."

"Come on, baby," Sam's voice was almost a whimper as he went harder, pushing his body into yours.

With his encouragement, you quickly came, making Sam smirk as he spread your slick around, almost as if to show off like a trophy.

You panted as you came down from your high, letting your back relax back down onto the mattress, Sam's body leaning down onto your own.

You were out of breath and Sam panted as if the sight of you coming undone sucked all the air out of his lungs.

"Was that good for my first time?" He leaned his forehead against yours, making a tired smile tug at your lips.

"I think I'm gonna have fun teaching you other things."

#sam monroe #sam monroe smut #life as a house #hayden christensen #hayden christensen sam monroe #smut #fluff #oneshot #nervous #guys i tried #emo hayden christensen

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slutforfinnickodair · 16 days

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HI BBG😻😻 I was wondering if you could write something for Sam Monroe like maybe he has a prince albert piercing?! I’m going feral rn. Okay love yaa

At the piercer

Pairing: Older!F!Reader x Sam Monroe

plot: Sam is in a little need of some money and after one of his friends bets him a lot of it in change for that piercing, he goes to visit one of his friends.

warnings: oral (male receiving), piercings, talk of smoking and use of drugs, age gap — sam is like 21 reader is more like 29, cheating

a/n: holy cow. WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS PLEASE MESSAGE ME😭🙏 By the way guys my inbox is open so please give me some requests😻

word count: 1.4k

—

“Yo, dude.” Josh nudged Sam by his shoulders. Sam gave him a look from the side before taking off his headphones that were blasting Metallica a moment ago.

“What do you want?” His hoarse voice made Josh want to laugh but he stood his ground.

“Want to bet five hundred bucks?” Josh said while leaning against the fence of their house.

Sam sighed before thinking of it. Five hundred bucks would be good for at least three pounds of weed. Maybe he could get some cigarettes along with it or even pills.

“What’s the deal?” Sam stood up from the grass, making Josh smirk before he turned his head to look at Thomas.

“He won’t do it man let it go.” Tommy shook his head while Josh kicked his leg making Thomas buckle his knees.

“You got a thing for that Y/N don’t you?” Josh asked while Sam narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Who was he to question if he liked her or not? She was already married for two years now so he had no chance over a man who looked like he was coming out from a Vogue magazine’s frontpage. Plus, he was way younger.

“Just say what you want, Jonathan.” Sam crossed his arms on his chest.

“How about you go to her salon and ask for a piercing?” Josh chuckled while looking down at his own groin.

The raven haired boy instantly shook his head.

“Come on Sam, it's gonna be fun. Don’t be such a pimp. Isn’t this what you want after all? Some weed and pills. You know five hundred dollars isn’t a small amount of money” Josh teased.

“I’m not doing it anyways.” Sam said. “Either if I get the money or not.”

“Are you shy? That she will see how small your dick actually is?” Thomas laughed while Josh kicked him again.

Sam tilted his head backwards. A piercing? Down there? Sure for five hundred it wasn’t really a big deal but he wasn’t even sure Y/N could do something like that.

“Fine, I'll do it.” Sam suddenly said while Josh smirked and patted Thomas on his back while turning around and walking back into their house.

—

Sam walked into your shop, hearing the bell echo through the building as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself.

“Oh, Hi Sam.” You said as you spotted him across the reception. He was wearing flared jeans with one of those metal rock bands on it that you casually knew the name of but didn’t listen to any of their songs.

“Hi.” He said while walking over to you.

“What brings you in today?” You asked while pulling out your notepad to add a new customer for today. You only had five today and it was already two in the afternoon so it was quite a slow day.

Now this was the part where Sam lost all of his confidence just looking at you all over again.

You had your hair pinned up so it didn’t fall into your sight. You were wearing a blouse with nothing underneath so he saw your nipple piercings poking through the fabric.

He felt his mouth watering up at the sight as you leant against the counter, writing his name in in your diary.

“Well..umm.” He started but then stopped again as you looked up at him. “I..”

You tilted your head smiling slightly as you saw a little red creeping up to his face.

“I’m guessing you want it somewhere private.” You said while he let out a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“Nipple piercings?” You guessed while looking up at him.

“No.”

You tried to think of anything that could weird out a twenty one year old boy, then the question suddenly left your mouth.

“A cockring?” You asked while Sam breathed out and nodded his head slowly.

“Okay.” You got up from behind the counter and walked towards the mattress where you did all of your job.

“Lay down.” You said while sitting down on the barstool next to him.

Sam laid down as you said and stared at the ceiling while you got some of the stuff that was needed. You put on some gloves, searching for a needle and the disinfectant with a cotton swab nearby.

“Are you nervous?” You asked to make a brief conversation.

“A little.” He admitted while readjusting his position.

“Don’t worry it will be fine.” You said while turning around. “Though you would need to pull your jeans and underwear down.” You said while waiting for him to do so.

“Oh right.” He murmured while quickly fidgeting with his belt.

Your thoughts suddenly drifted away. You’ve been doing piercings for Sam since he turned seventeen. Of course you thought he looked fine but he was way too young for you. You were already twenty five when you met.

Your husband wouldn’t give a shit if you just went and slept around, because he did the same. Not that you did care, you needed the money and that was it.

Sam was different, you only thought of him as a one night stand and even that was a huge mistake to think of. He probably had many women drooling around him; he didn't need one who was married.

“Okay so.” You started while looking at his pretty face. “You know I would like you to get a little bit aroused before we start this so the needle can easily pierce your skin.” You dared not to look down at his member. Sam paid attention to this as he stared right into your gorgeous eyes, waiting for you to finally touch him even if it meant his head would be swelling for a good two weeks.

“I’ll leave you alone to do this.” You said while getting up from the barstool that you were seated on. Sam wanted to call out for you but he rather closed his mouth and watched as you walked behind the counter again, looking up at the clock before diving your head into one of your notebooks where you rearranged some appointments that were off for today. You were basically just scribbling down whatever came to your mind.

By the time you walked back to where Sam was, you saw exactly how he was currently rubbing himself, trying to get ready. All you saw was that the poor boy tried to do his best but he was still limp. You pulled at your lips as a wicked thought ran up into your head.

Jacking him off wouldn’t be cheating would it be?

You didn’t care though, you walked over to him and sat back on the barstool. When he noticed you he quickly pulled away his hands, staring at you.

“Seems like you don’t have anyone to think about.” You said while he gulped down his spit. Gosh how could you be so hot and confident at the same time?

“Trust me, I do.” He murmured while looking down at your cleavage.

“Okay pretty boy well how about I help you out a little bit?” You suggested while pulling out something like lube from one of your drawers.

“You would?” He asked surprised.

Oh god, she’s going to stroke my dick.

“Well if I need to..” You pressed some of that lube on your fingertips looking down at him.

Sam kept looking at you, praying not to cum in a minute under your hands. You probably had no time for him anyways.

You looked him into the eyes once before taking his tip between your fingertips, rubbing the lube right on the skin.

This was the first time Sam held his moans back, trying to gain composure as you kept flicking the head with your hands. If you kept going like this you would be having to see him cumming all over your hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath as you went faster. You even forgot this wasn’t supposed to be a blowjob until the very moment you got thick ropes of white coming down your hands.

A soft gasp left your lips but even then you kept going. Sam twitched underneath your hand, groaning once you sped up again.

“You gonna cum again for me baby?” You purred while now your hand was caressing his entire length.

“Yes..” He gasped while you kept smirking.

Let’s just say Sam Monroe turned out to visit your salon more after that encounter. Plus, he always made sure your husband would see the leftover marks that your setting powder couldn’t cover.

#sam monroe #sam monroe smut #life as a house #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #starwars #star wars smut #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x reader #clay beresford #anakin skywalker

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cillivnz · 4 months

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TRICKSTER

pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader

trope. best friends decide to fuck? idk.

synopsis. when you decide to flex your tricks with a keg-stand on anakin, he decided to drink with you, but not the liquor— your pussy.

warnings. NSFW. 18+. modern au. porn without plot, alcohol consumption, brief dubcon (turns consensual), cunnilingus, brief ass-eating (return of analkin), outdoors, cursing, mention of alcohol poisoning, pet-names, slight degradation, vaginal fingering, breast-play, cum-eating.

a/n. i need both things incorporated here; a keg stand and anakin eating me out. i’ve used a picture of sam monroe here, i just felt like it fit the au better, let me know if you guys maybe would wanna read something for him? twirls hair, bats eyelashes at you.

“ANI, WATCH THIS,” you ask him, for the third time in a row to watch you cannonball into the lavish pool. anakin feigns faux pride in you, clapping sarcastically when you swim up to the surface to see his reaction.

the clear poison coursing through your veins, the bittersweet smirnoff that you’ve been chugging neat, had began working its magic into your senses.

you were home alone, your parents’ place left to you all by yourself as they left for business outside of coruscant. with the sun shooting heatwaves directly at your city, you decided what better way to make peace with your solitude than to invite your childhood best friend over to drink the day away?

ANAKIN SKYWALKER WAS MORE than happy to oblige to your “pretty please’s,” pulling up to the house in nothing but black trunk shorts, while you were in a black, skimpy bikini.

he’d been ogling at you the whole time, too.

you pretended not to notice the bite of his lip when your cleavage would come into sight, and shrug away the feeling of his eyes devouring your ass whenever you had your back towards him.

with his help, you had set up a keg-stand, eager to impress with some tricks up your sleeve.

“hey, anakin,” you called out, a mischievous half-smile tugging at your lips. “hm?” he looked up to you. the liquor trickling down his stubbled chin, his brows furrowed at the feel of his tastebuds dying at the hands of the alcohol. using the back of his large hands, he wiped off his face.

you squirmed at the sight.

he was your best friend, but you had eyes.

anakin’s always been a gorgeous boy, the perfect man to have. easy on the eyes, funny, attentive, possessive, and just so, so good to you.

and only you, it seems.

nobody else gets this princess treatment, none but you.

you smiled triumphantly, you were fawning over a man that wasn’t even yours, but you’d be damned if you cared to stop.

“check this out!” you raced over to the stand, getting in position to start chugging.

WAS THIS A BAD IDEA? probably.

would you care to stop? fuck no.

anakin looked over at you, amused. he raised a brow at your current state; ass in the air, tits flopping in the barely covering bikini top, your form slightly wavering, causing him to walk over to you.

“very impressive, trickster.” he tried not to chuckle. “need help?” he asked, snaking his hands around your waist to steady you. your heart skipped several beats at the gesture, now realising how awkward this position is.

his face so close— too close to your ass— that you felt his hot breath on your wet skin.

his hands began to roam, kneading the flesh— whatever flesh he could touch, massaging your waist and hips, before making his way to your chest. you nearly choked on the beer shooting up your mouth when he untied the strings of your bikini, letting the top fall to the ground.

“hey, sweetheart,” he mocked your earlier tone,

“SWEETHEART, WATCH THIS!” he grinned devilishly before shifting your thong to the side and shoving his face between your folds.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, trying so hard not to choke on the relentless liqueur shooting through the pipe.

anakin was cruel, what if the liquid went down the wrong hole and you choked to death?

speaking of the wrong hole, his tongue now licked the tight rim of your ass, smirking to see you writhe in discomfort.

“anakin, what the f—” you gasped for air as the pipe left your mouth.

“shh,” anakin spoke against your drooling slit, sending shivers down your spine (or up, since you are hanging upside down?) “don’t waste, and show me all the tricks you’ve been talking my ear off to show.” his arm wrapped around your slim waist to steady you, while the free hand traveled down to your chest to pinch and pull at your nipples.

you moaned, gushing around his face. his little stubble pricked at your skin, while his tongue sent sharp jolts of pleasure through you when he taunted your clit with the tip; the sensation, delicious, much like the taste of you for anakin.

“such a sweet cunt, i can’t believe it took just one bottle of vodka to get you laid out for me.” he slurred against you, sucking harshly on your clit, easing a finger into your walls.

you moaned pornographically, gagging on the pipe.

for your sake, and his, he better finish what he started before you die of alcohol poisoning.

but with the fervency with which he was assaulting your poor pussy, you ought to rest assured.

“cum on my tongue, slut. i wanna taste you in my mouth, not the booze.” he grabbed you by the hips and began grinding your entire body on his face; drenched in your juices, but not once stopping, he sucked the soul out of your swollen clit, while his fingers curled against your g-spot.

you clenched your thighs around his head, not that anakin minded, struggling to drink beer while anakin was doing just fine drinking your juices.

with one final lick on your clit, and one final thrust of two of his fingers, he had you coming undone in his mouth, like he wanted.

he helped you down, but wouldn’t leave you alone. he groped your breasts roughly, shoving his tongue into your mouth. you weren’t even given a jiffy to yourself to breathe.

when he broke the kiss, he had that mischievous look on his face; the one that gets you into the best kind of trouble.

“ani—” you said his name in a cautionary tone, but it was too late; he swept you off your feet and headed indoors.

“anakin, let go of me!” you chuckled, flopping around like a fish out of water on his shoulder.

“not a chance,” he tsk’ed at your request, like it was the stupidest idea ever.

“unless you want me to fuck you outdoors?” he looked over at you, a hopeful glee in his eyes.

your tricks have come around to bite you in the ass, little trickster. now, brace yourself for a hell of a pounding.

main masterlist. more of anakin.

#analkin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x y/n #anakin x reader #sw anakin #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #modern au #drabble #smut #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #sin sixx

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sswiftiestars · 7 months

Text

seductions—chapter one

gf! sam monroe x fem!reader

tws/cws: mentions of murder, angsty, mentions of ED and self harm, vomiting, manipulation, swearing, y/n isnt used i think, petnames, kinda sexual at the end, non-con kinda but not really

summary: When you find out one of your best friends was murdered by the neighborhood serial killer, you head to school sad. Struggling to stay sane, you end up experiencing something unexpected.

You sob into your pillow as you read the local newspaper, reading; WEDNESDAY 5/07/03: WESTON HIGH SCHOOL TEEN NAMED MARY LOUISE FOUND DEAD AT 17, KILLED IN HER OWN HOME AFTER A MYSTERIOUS PHONE CALL.

it showed a picture of her, making everything 10x worse. she was your best friend, and there she was, dead and buried. you continued to sob into your pillow when you realized you had to get to school. how would you be able to survive after this? you sniffle a few times and put on a pink cardigan with a mini skirt, thigh highs and some cute sneakers. Sadly, you put on your backpack (which was baby pink, obviously) and head out the door without eating.

once you arrive to school, you don’t put any effort into talking to anyone, and you make your way to the auditorium, where a assembly will be taken place on..recent events. you sit down at a empty area when after a few minutes, someone taps your shoulder from the seat behind you. you turn around and see Sam, one of your closest friends.

“are you okay, angel? you ignored me when i tried to come up to you earlier.” he says sadly, giving you a soft pout of disappointment. You shrug, visibly less energetic then usual. “m’ fine, sam. it’s just..” you start, tears threatening to leave your eyes, “you know.” you say, looking away from him. sam sighs and climbs over and sits in the seat next to you, ignoring that he just accidentally kicked someone in the leg. “listen, angel.” sam coos, grasping his hand at your chin and turns your head to look at him directly, “I’m sorry about what happened to mary, but..eveything happens for a reason, right?” he says, trying to comfort you, but ending up sounding slightly sadistic.

you squint your eyes at him, about to speak when the principal talks into the microphone at the auditorium stage, peaking you and sam’s attention. “Good morning, everyone.” he starts, his voice echoing through the room. “i would just like to take a moment and..talk about recent events.” he says. you already know he’ll be talking about mary, corey, and some of the other students who have been lost. you don’t want to hear about it anymore, it just adds on to the indescribable feeling in your chest.

Sam somehow senses you discomfort, and reaches over to hold your hand, carressing your palm with his thumb. you blush slightly. “Mary was a great friend to all of you.” the principal says solemnly, “she will not be forgotten.” behind you, you hear two of the jocks, logan and aiden, snickering. you turn your head around and glare at them, and sam does the same. something about sam’s stare at them was..unsettling. the two jocks immediately stopped laughing, sam’s unsettling stare scaring the shit out of them, to say the least.

sam will definitely be remembering them, for later.

The principal continues talking about mary, and then sam leans over to whisper to you, “i’ll be right back, sunshine. stay here f’ me.” you nod in response and watch as he walks out of the auditorium. assuming he’s just going to the bathroom, you continue listening to the principals speech about mary and corey. the more he talks, the more sad you get, and the more angry you get at the person who killed them so brutally. After a while, you notice that sam is still gone. a pit in your stomach starts to form, as you start to get extremely anxious. Carefully, you stand up and walk out of the auditorium. you make your way to the girls bathroom. You walk into a stall and lock the door. Suddenly, a wave of nausea waves over you. “when was the last time i ate?” you think to yourself. your thoughts are cut short when you suddenly bend over the toilet and vomit, you really should’ve ate breakfast. after a couple minutes of..intense sickness, you flush the toilet and walk out of the stall. You try not to cry as you walk to the sink, and wash your hands and wash your face, hoping to make yourself feel better. as you raise your head, you see something in the mirror behind you.

a hooded figure in a mask.

you ignore it at first, thinking you might be hallucinating from all of the pills you’ve been taking. But that’s when you hear a metal sound from behind you. You turn around instantly, water still dripping from your face and hands.

He…or she..or they, wave at you, knife in hand. you instinctively run towards the door and try to open it.

of course it’s fucking closed.

“fuck.” you say under your breath and turn back around, and the masked figure..doesn’t run towards you? he walks closer to you as you stand there, paralyzed in fear. before you know it, he pins you against the cold wall of the bathroom, and whispers in your ear, “stay quiet or you’ll end up like your good friend mary.” you gasp, trying to recognize his voice, but his voice is awfully distorted. fuck, is he using a voice changer?

you nod. he runs his gloved hand down your body until he reaches underneath your skirt. You feel your underwear dampen, and you curse yourself silently for that. the masked stranger cups your core through your panties, eliciting a soft whimper from your throat. He pulls his hand away, a smirk underneath his mask that you wish you could see are glad you can’t see. he walks out of the bathroom after that, leaving you confused and still aroused.

did the neighborhood serial killer just touch my pussy?you think to yourself and let out a slight cackle, even though it’s not that funny. unable to leave your position, you stand there, wondering what to do. you’re definitely traumatized for sure—but at least it felt good. after what seemed like forever, you walk back to the auditorium and sit down next to sam and let out a sigh. at least he’s okay.

“hey, what took you so long?” sam smirks and nudges you playfully. you shrug, “i felt sick, it’s nothing really.”

“Good thing you’re still alive, i was worried that someone snuck in there.” he jokes, although his tone is a bit sinister. you laugh it off nervously, and listen to the principals incredibly long speech for the next hour.

in that hour, you find yourself thinking about what happened, something inside of you wishing the masked stranger did more with you. You brushed off the thought, sighing to yourself.

maybe someday you’ll lose your virginity, and today was almost the day.

tags: @g4sstationdr-gs , ask if u wanna b added!

#Spotify #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars smut #anakin smut #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe #ghostface sam

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kybercvnt · 1 year

Text

Mall Date

Pairing – Sam Monroe x F!Reader

Summary – Sam invites you on a date to the mall

Word Count – 2245

Warnings – Underage smut

#sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #my fics

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lunalitva · 5 hours

Text

⌠ Lunalitva's Masterlist ⌡

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

【 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 】

—𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Nerd Anakin

Vampire Anakin

Vampire Anakin II.

Vampire Anakin III.

—𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 + 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈

Palm Reading

—𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

Affairs of the Heart | Nerd Ani x f reader

【 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞 】

—𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Sam Monroe x witch reader

—𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 + 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈

Introductions | Sam Monroe x witch reader

Whiny Sam

—𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

【 𝐀𝐣 】

—𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 + 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈

His Queen

—𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

Way Down We Go

【 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 】

—𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 + 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈

Stephen Glass with an oral fixation

【 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 】

—𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 + 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈

Lorenzo Di Lamberti

War of Hearts

Profile pic by quickswiper

#anakin skywalker #star wars #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #anakin #aj #takers aj #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #stephen glass #stephen glass imagine #lorenzo di lamberti #vader #darth vader

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passable-talent · 1 year

Note

i’d really love to see you write some sam monroe x f!reader. i know you’ve written some male reader versions. i love your writing & i love hayden christensen and i need more content <33

no 💕

#this is only half serious #if i was still writing reliably i’d be more upset with you anon #but there are guidelines on my profile for a reason #and if they were read before requesting #that would be appreciated #still ty for the love i forget that people like what i did in the Yonder Years

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hanasnx · 6 months

Text

MINORS DNI 18+

The hand of SAM MONROE tangles hard in your hair, keeping you arrested and reliant on him for movement until there’s an ache in your neck. His veiny forearm is flexed and resolute, giving you a jostle that puts a sting in your scalp. A whimper escapes you, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. It’s all so much, in such a delicious way, and when the familiar motion of him rearing your head back signals you as to what’s to come, you open your mouth obediently. As you suspected, a heavy tip smacks against your hanging tongue, scraping against tastebuds as it plunges down your throat.

You lurch, violently. Drool spilling from the corners of your lips as he fucks your face, moving you for you like a fleshlight. A pliant and submissive little toy. Without concern over how much you stifle and work through your gags, his hips buck to meet you, shoving his cock further and further in with each thrust. It’s breakneck. That ache in your spine worsens as he uses you. He sees you push your limit, raising yourself to the best of your ability. When you palm his thighs he knows you’re about to push off, so he makes the decision for you, folding over to pull himself out. A thick string of cum and saliva connects the two of you until its weight breaks, glossing your chest and legs like a satin ribbon. You like it rough. So he’ll fucking give it to you.

He cranes your neck back and rears his hand, swinging it to contact your cheek in a resounding smack. It sounds worse than it is, and the burn of it rushes blood to your skin. You cry out as your sex floods with new arousal, dripping down your bare thighs and to the floor. It seems he wasn’t satisfied with the first because he gives you another one, the ends of his fingers slapping you in the same spot, harder than before, flaring up the existing pain. You flinch in preparation for it, and squeak when it hits, backing up out of instinct but that grip on your hair is infallible.

“Look at me.” he tells you, but you can’t do it yet. Holding beck tears, you breathe hard through your nose as your pussy pulses with the need to be filled. The taste of his dick is still on your tongue, sweat and bitter pre-cum, the smell of a boy’s crotch gone unshowered for a couple days. He yanks you over by your hair, giving you another firm pat to your cheek to make sure you’re paying attention, “I said, look at me.” Your brows upturn, involuntarily keening from his actions as the burn on your cheek intensifies. Claws reach out to clutch his forearm as he grabs your jaw, angling you to face him. You open your eyes for him, and you see him tongue his upper lip beaded with sweat. “That’s right. Fuckin’ slut like you still does what she’s told, huh? You fucking like getting your throat fucked?” he questions in disbelief. He doesn’t wait for an answer, straightening to tower over you as he pushes his hips forward, rudely nudging the tip of his cock to your lips til it protrudes through. It slides in, and as soon as he’s given leeway he bottoms out, your nose bumping his abdomen as you gag around him.

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hintsofhoney · 4 years

Text

Not So Timid After All

Pairing(s): Dom!Dean Winchester x F!Sub!Reader

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Dean Winchester for years but are far too shy to make a move. When you’re working a case with Dean at a costume party, he decides to make a move instead. Turns out, you’re not so shy in the bedroom.

Tags: 18+, Dom/sub dynamic, sir kink, rough sex, oral, fingering

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This was my first request ever, requested by @h3aven-ly. I had a really fun time writing it, enjoy! The request was, “Smut between Dean and a nerdy/timid reader. She’s a hunter living with the boys for some years and secretly has a crush on Dean. For a hunt, they need to go to a costume party, so the reader dresses up as Marilyn Monroe and Dean is lusting badly for her, finally getting a glimpse of her body since she’s always in baggy, casual clothes. Ends up in kinky smut since she’s secretly a sub.”

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey, Y/N, we caught a case, if you want to join,” Dean said as he popped his head into your room. You looked up from the book you were reading.

“What is it?” you asked.

“A ghost we think, but get this, the place it’s haunting… there’s a costume party there tonight… and it’s freakin’ Halloween,” Dean said enthusiastically, a smile spreading across his face. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hmm…” you thought, thinking about any costumes you might have on hand. One came to mind, but you weren’t sure that you were ready to flaunt everything you had in front of the boys, Dean especially. You had been living in the bunker with them for a few years now but you can’t remember a time that they’ve ever seen you dressed up.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I mean, it’s the perfect case. A ghost at a costume party!? On Halloween night!?” Dean rambled on.

You watched him fondly. You’ve had somewhat of a crush on the older Winchester for years now, but you were very shy, you kept to yourself, and you could never imagine that Dean would think of you in any other way than just a friend. Besides, you had far more in common with Sam when it came to interests anyway.

“What are you going as?” you asked, already knowing the answer. A cowboy.

“You have to ask? A cowboy, obviously. It’s like you don’t even know me,” Dean said sarcastically as he shook his head. You rolled your eyes.

“Alright, I’m in I guess,” you said nonchalantly, focusing back on your book.

“Sweet, well, better start getting ready then, it’s about an hour drive.”

Dean left, closing the door behind him. You sighed and put your book down on your chest. You had one costume that you wore to a costume party years ago; Marilyn Monroe. You got up from your bed and walked over to your dresser, rummaging through drawers before you finally saw the fabric of the white dress stuffed underneath some of your regular baggy clothes at the back of a drawer. You pulled it out and held it in front of you, staring at it. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore a dress. You found the remaining bits of the old costume in various parts of your room; the wig in a box under your bed, the heels in a pile of all your shoes that sat in the corner of the room. Once you had everything together, you laid it all out in front of you. You loved dressing up, but you weren’t the most outgoing person. For some reason, you felt nervous about Dean seeing you in this get up, and you didn’t know why. You put on the costume piece by piece, and after brushing out the wig and styling it the classic Marilyn Monroe way and putting on some makeup, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled. You hadn’t felt this good about yourself in a while; wearing things that accented your breasts and curves, heels, makeup… it wasn’t something that you ever did, especially since becoming a hunter.

“Y/N, we’re ready whenever you are!” you heard Dean’s voice echo throughout the bunker. You gave yourself a confident nod in the mirror and headed out of your room to meet the brothers in the war room.

“How are you not more excited about this, Sammy? Are you kidding me, it’s like the perfect –” Dean stopped talking to his brother when he caught a glimpse of you walking in.

“What?” you asked him innocently, grabbing your purse off the table.

“N-nothing… I’ve just, uh, always had a crush on Marilyn Monroe,” Dean explained, stuttering a little. You looked at him suspiciously.

“Right… anyway, you guys good to go?” you questioned, looking at the two brothers standing before you. Dean was dressed in the exact get-up he said he’d be dressed in; he looked like he’d been plucked right out of some classic Western film. Sam, on the other hand… “I see you’re going as a lumberjack, then?” you teased, noticing that Sam had refused to dress up and was wearing the usual plaid button up. Sam gave you an irritated look and Dean chuckled softly.

“We’re working on a case, guys. I mean, c’mon, is it really practical to fight a ghost dressed in,” Sam motioned to you and Dean’s costumes, “cowboy boots and a dress?”

“What I wear doesn’t determine my hunting skills, Sam. Anything you can do I can do in heels and a damn dress,” you said with confidence and turned to walk up the stairs. The brothers glanced at each other with their eyebrows raised and then watched you walk to the bunker’s exit; this was not the quiet and timid Y/N that they were used to. The costume was giving you some of Marilyn’s confidence, and you weren’t complaining.

You felt Dean’s eyes on you for most of night and even caught him licking his lips a few times out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t know how to react, although the way Dean was looking at you made you want every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about him to come true.

“You guys look upstairs, I’ll check out the rest of the party, see of anyone’s noticed anything,” Sam suggested, after about an hour of wandering aimlessly through the crowd. The party was in a giant mansion, the music was blaring, and there wasn’t exactly much light in the place; all things which made working this case a little harder. You and Dean headed towards the staircase, which, of course, was roped off to guests, but hey, breaking the rules was in your job description. The bad lighting and loud music made escaping off to the top floor an easy job, and you and Dean began scouring the hallways, flashlights and EMF meters in hand.

“Hey,” Dean whispered from behind you. You turned around. “Let’s check out in here,” he said, motioning towards a door beside him.

“Why?” you asked, confused because you didn’t feel, see, or hear anything coming from behind the door that would remotely suggest a ghost, or anything at all for that matter.

“Just – c’mon,” he said, opening the door quietly. He shined his flashlight into the room; a bedroom, and a huge one at that. Probably one of many.

“Dean, what if someone comes in?” you whispered nervously.

“Eh, I’m sure they’re preoccupied with the party,” he said, searching the wall for a light switch. He switched it on when he found it, closing the door and turning around to face you. He took off his cowboy hat and placed it on a nearby chair.

“Dean, what are you –”

Dean was inches away from your face before you could finish. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Y/N, but you like me, yeah? Like, like, like me?”

You gulped. “Uh, well –”

“Because Sammy’s been puttin’ all these ideas in my head ‘bout you… so if he’s wrong, I’ll kill him for makin’ me look stupid right now.”

“Sam told you something?” you asked, mortified. You never told Sam exactly how you felt about Dean, but you did drop subtle hints… which you now realized probably weren’t so subtle.

“Not anything specific, he just… made me open my eyes to how you act around me, y’know.”

“And how do I act around you, Dean?”

He curved his lips into a smirk. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

You swallowed again. It was true, but you couldn’t believe that Dean had actually noticed.

“See, I didn’t see it before, when you first moved in, and then Sammy started pointin’ things out to me, things that you only do around me, and then suddenly you weren’t innocent little Y/N in my eyes anymore. And I… I was never sure, until tonight. The way you kept lookin’ at me whenever I’d look at you,” Dean started dragging his fingertips down your arm, causing you to shiver, and leaned in close to your ear, his stubble rough against your cheek, “Yeah, that told me all I needed to know. And I’m willing to bet you’re not as timid in the bedroom as you are outside of it, hm?” he whispered.

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was occurring, it didn’t feel real.

“Answer me,” he growled. The heat between your legs began to rise.

“Y-yes,” you breathed. He smiled devilishly.

“Mm, I thought so. I’ve always thought you were so beautiful, Y/N, but seeing you tonight, in this… yeah, all I’ve been wanting to do since I saw you in it is rip it right off.” He hooked his fingers under the straps of your dress and slid them off your shoulders. “This is okay, right?” he whispered, pausing to make sure that you wanted this too.

You nodded aggressively, still trying to process what was going on. Dean planted soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, letting go of the dress straps and allowing gravity pull the dress down your body.

“D-Dean, the c-case,” you breathed, remembering that you were in a stranger’s house that was being haunted by a ghost.

“Shhh, Sammy’s got it. Relax, Y/N, let me take care of you, hm?”

You nodded softly and Dean reached around you to unclasp your bra. He watched your breasts bounce a little as he slid it off, licking his lips in a way that drove you crazy.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N. Why you hide all of this under those baggy clothes, I’ll never understand. Fuck, I want to do so many dirty things to you.”

“Do them, then,” you whispered, Dean’s compliments of your body giving you an extra boost of confidence.

That was all he needed to drag you to the bed and bend you over it. He ripped off your panties and used them to tie your hands behind your back, making you squeeze your thighs together at his display of dominance. He leaned over you, his hands making dips in the bed on each side of your shoulders, his growing bulge pressed against your ass. You felt his stubble on your cheek again.

“You ever been tied up before, doll?” he questioned, his voice low and gruff.

You smiled to yourself. Oh, the things Dean Winchester was about to find out about you. “Yes, sir,” you responded, biting back a smirk.

“Oh?” he asked, surprise in his voice, “You know how to behave then?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean moaned in approval as he trailed kisses down your spine, dropping to his knees in front of your ass. He tapped your ankles, signaling for you to spread your legs further, and you did, your dripping cunt coming into his view.

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. I would hate for someone to walk in on you like this, all tied up for me,” he said sternly. He grabbed the area where your thighs met your ass cheeks and licked a stripe up your folds, making you flinch a little, but not enough for him to notice. He worked his way through your folds with his tongue, licking, flicking, and sucking all the right spots. You were clinging to the bed sheets and trying to hold still, biting back moans. Your clit was pounding and your walls were clenching around nothing, begging for something to fill the emptiness.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N,” he praised, as he began to circle your clit with his tongue. You almost gasped when you felt a finger enter you and start pumping in and out slowly. Your breath hitched when he added a finger, and you were proud of yourself for managing to be so quiet while you were experiencing something quite euphoric. This wasn’t just some random hook-up, this was Dean Winchester, your crush of the last few years, giving you the best oral you’ve ever received. He stood up suddenly, his fingers still inside of you, and you groaned at the absence of his tongue against your clit. The second you made a sound, you regretted it instantly, for Dean was pulling his fingers out of you and pulling you up off the bed by your upper arm. He spun you around to face him, his nose almost touching yours.

“Was that a sound, Y/N?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

You nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, sir,” you gulped, wondering what he had in store for you.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to shut you up then, hm?” he growled, pulling down on your arm, signaling for you to get on your knees. You obeyed, trying not to focus on the juices dripping down your thighs. You watched as Dean sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots, drawing out the anticipation. He stood up and walked back over to you, stopping right in front of your face. You could see his bulge through his jeans. You watched as he unbuckled his obnoxious belt buckle and unzipped his jeans, wishing you could do it for him but your hands were still tied behind your back. You breathed in deeply as Dean slid off his underwear, kicking them into a corner of the room, his cock thick and hard, precum leaking from the tip. You licked your lips hungrily and opened your mouth without waiting for him to ask you to. Dean pumped his cock slowly in front of your face, smirking at your eagerness to taste it. You stuck your tongue out with your mouth still wide open, hoping that he would realize just how much you wanted his cock inside you, inside any part of you. He tapped the tip of his cock against your tongue a few times, allowing the saltiness of his precum to sink into your taste buds, before shoving all of himself inside you, hitting the back of your throat. You squeezed your thumb in your left fist, a trick to get rid of your gag reflex that you had learned a while ago, letting Dean repeatedly hit the back of your throat with little to no discomfort. He fucked your face relentlessly, until spit was dripping down the sides of your mouth and he was moaning “fuck” under his breath. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and he slowed down, pulling his cock out after a few more thrusts.

“Stand up, turn around,” he demanded, and you did as you were told. He quickly untied your wrists from behind your back and spun you back around, pulling you into a deep kiss; your first kiss with him. You felt butterflies in your stomach, your heart fluttered, all those movie clichés that supposedly happen when you kiss someone, happened. You thought about how backwards this all was, about how his lips should have probably come in contact with yours before his cock did, about how you were in the middle of being effortlessly dominated by him and your heart had the audacity to fucking flutter… Dean deepened the kiss, guiding you over to the bed, your thighs hitting the edge of the mattress. He pushed you down onto the bed, and you scooted up a little bit, your head resting on the pillows. He crawled on top of you, wasting no time with ripping his shirt off and lining his cock up with your entrance. He thrust into you with so much force, making you yelp, which resulted with his hand over your mouth as he pounded into you.

“There are so many things I’d rather be doing with this hand, Y/N, but I need you to be quiet,” he said as he looked into your eyes. You nodded to signal that you understood and Dean moved his hand from your mouth to one of your nipples, pinching it between his fingers. After a few more thrusts he changed angles, sitting up straighter and pulling your legs over his shoulders, pounding even deeper into you. He grabbed the part of your thigh right above your knee with one hand, the other hand reaching around to find your clit, rubbing circles around it with his thumb when he found it. It took everything you had in you not to scream, the only thing keeping you from doing so being the fact that you were at a party… at a stranger’s house. Dean grunted as he thrusted into you a few more times and you felt the all-too familiar heat begin to rise in your abdomen as he kept massaging your clit. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, just as it had in your mouth, and suddenly, the familiar heat reached its boiling point, and you felt your orgasm erupt through you as you arched your back and fought back a scream. You felt his warm cum cover your stomach and you opened your eyes to watch him ride out his climax as he towered over you, head thrown back and eyes closed, pumping his cock slowly as he shuddered and moaned under his breath. He finally opened his eyes to look down at you and the mess he made.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t have a condom,” he explained sheepishly once he finally caught his breath.

You chuckled. “That’s okay, it doesn’t bother me,” you said, earning a surprised look from him. “You keep looking at me like that.”

“Yeah, Y/N, because like… when we’re back at the bunker all you do is read and do crosswords and cute little nerdy things and you – you won’t even cuss! But here you are, sucking my cock like you have a degree in giving head and… I mean, clearly you know how to be a good sub and it’s like, damn… what’s next? You like being spanked, too?”

“That’s my favorite, actually,” you said with a wink, earning you another bug-eyed stare from Dean. “I’m gonna clean this off, now.”

You rolled off the bed, thanking the universe that this bedroom had a bathroom so you wouldn’t have to go looking for one, covered in cum. You grabbed your costume from the floor, surprised that you had fastened your wig to your head well enough that it hadn’t fallen off throughout all of the events that had just occurred. You got dressed and fixed yourself up in the bathroom mirror, coming back out to see a fully dressed Dean. “Back to the case, then,” you said, as though nothing had happened. Dean looked at you quizzically.

“What now?” you asked.

“That… I mean, that wasn’t a one-time thing, was it?”

“No, you idiot, now let’s go. Sam probably thinks we’ve found something by now.”

#dean winchester smut #dom!dean #sub!reader #supernatural smut #spn smut #dom/sub undertones #sir kink #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #request

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beckzorz · 5 years

Text

If The Shoe Fits

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 8771 Summary: An assassination at the Jelly Belly factory goes haywire when SHIELD arrives on the scene. Warnings: NSFW (language, mentions of child pornography, smut), 18+ A/N: Happy Fourth! This is part 3 of my Looks to Die For series, written for Attie’s Challenge Challenge! Thank you @barnesrogersvstheworld! My prompt was, “You love me?” Hope you enjoy!

A portrait of Captain America. Two portraits, really, since there’s one of Steve Rogers and another of Sam Wilson.

“Huh,” you say.

The little boy gaping beside you nods enthusiastically before his attention is drawn elsewhere. You can’t quite blame him. Captain America—either or both—are fascinating, but there’s a lot going on here. Portraits line the walls. Two versions of Marilyn Monroe, one of Harry Potter, a wall of animals. There’s three whole portraits of Ronald Reagan, of all people. You can’t think why.

Not exactly what you were expecting from the Jelly Belly Bean Art Gallery.

The animals, yes. Past presidents? Not so much.

Still, it’s a far cry from your last job. Even with the absurd college student getup you’ve got on, an air conditioned factory beats the jungle any day.

You trace the sharp line of Steve Rogers’ jaw with your eyes, then step sideways to inspect Sam Wilson. Two beacons of justice, and you’ve only got two questions in mind.

One: what would they think of you?

And two: why doesn’t Bucky Barnes get a Jelly Belly portrait?

You’ve half a mind to march up to the tour guide to demand an answer to question two—he’s not likely to have an answer to question one, is he?—but a ping in your ear diverts your attention.

“Time to go,” comes Kasie’s voice.

Your lips curve into a little smile as you saunter to the tour guide. “Nature calls,” you murmur, and Kasie snorts in your ear. The tour guide turns to you with a helpful smile as you reach his side. “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?”

—

On your way down the hall to the bathroom, you pass a tall blond man wheeling a janitor’s cart. A slight smile and a tilt of his head is all the acknowledgement he gives you.

Apart from the two of you, the hall is abandoned.

As soon as you pass him, you veer to the side, following his head tilt, and burst through a set of doors marked PRIVATE. The neutral look on your face morphs into a dark smirk.

Time to get to work.

—

Twenty-four minutes later, you’re sitting at a desk with your feet propped up. Under the desk, the curled-up corpse of the man whose name graces the office door. The computer is running a program from a thumb drive you’d hidden in your bra. An effective weapon, a thumb drive. Jab it into someone’s eye, they scream. Jab it into a computer port, and with the right coding…

Well, there’s money moving in your direction. Payment for a job well done, on top of your cut for the heart attack you’ve just induced. And a little bit more.

With gloved hands, you pick up a paperweight shaped like a clump of jelly beans.

“Y’know,” you say into the open air, “it’s strange getting paid to murder someone involved in making candy. Candy makes children happy.”

“Well, this guy was doing plenty to make children unhappy,” Kasie says.

“Oh, sure. No doubt about it.” Your lip curls distastefully. It had been all too easy to find his stash of child pornography. On his work computer, no less. Your stomach had damn near curdled at the endless scroll of files. You hadn’t opened any, but dear lord, even the file names and preview images had been more than you could stomach. And the job brief hadn’t said anything about exposing the bastard, but if he happened to be discovered dead in his office from a heart attack with that folder easily accessible…

Well, you won’t complain. Maybe it’ll help the police catch a few more perverts. Assuming the company doesn’t just hush the whole thing up, but a hint dropped in the right ears will go a long way if it comes to that.

The right ears. Your face softens and your stomach settles. All the sugar from the tasting rooms and the nausea from finding that obscene stash fades as you think of the right ears, and the head between them.

Bucky. A good, nice head on good, nice shoulders on a good, nice body… Thinking about him while you’re waiting for the program to finish running is an excellent distraction. Better than thinking about the horrible things the man at your feet had gotten up to during his lifetime.

“Oh fuck.”

Your head perks up. Kasie’s voice is strangled.

“What?” you blurt.

“SHIELD is here,” Kasie hisses.

“Why are you whispering?” you snap. You stand up, hands curled around the edge of the desk as you try and steady your racing heart. Your eyes dart around the office, but it’s empty. Just you, and a corpse at your feet. “This channel is secure.”

“Fuck you. Get the hell out of there. Now.”

“No way!” You slap the desk. Your hands tremble, and you clutch the desk again. “I’m almost done. If I can get all the shit on this guy—”

“It’s too risky!” Kasie exclaims. “I am not letting you get caught in SHIELD’s crossfires again, you hear?”

“SHIELD can suck my dick,” you snap. “I’m not giving up on this. Whoever this guy was getting his shit from deserves exactly what I just gave him.”

Faint popping through your earpiece. You freeze.

“Luka?”

Silence.

“Luka, what’s your status?” Kasie says, voice barely steady.

More radio silence. Bated breath as you wait for the third in your trio to respond.

A klaxon wails.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Evacuation,” Luka breathes, just loud enough for you to hear under the alarms. Relief floods through you until he speaks again. “Guns.”

“Okay that’s it,” Kasie announces. “I’m calling this off. That’s an order.”

“Just two more minutes,” you beg. Your knuckles, curled so tightly around the edge of the desk, are white under the plastic gloves as you stare at the download bar for your thumb drive. You’re so close. The drive is almost done, and then you can deliver the wrath of god. SHIELD has nothing on you. You survived the last time, that night you met Bucky Barnes through a rifle scope. This can’t possibly go any worse.

Kasie doesn’t answer.

Well, silence from her is close enough to a yes for you. You sink back into the chair, limbs stiff. The alarm is still wailing. Your foot knocks against the body under the desk.

Two minutes? Enough time to rearrange your victim into a plausible slump in his chair. You grunt as you tug him into the open air. You wipe your brow with the back of your wrist before hefting him into his chair by his lapels. There’s nothing worse than deadweight, but then again, that’s just part of the job. A few artful rearrangements of his stiff limbs, and you’re satisfied.

Running footsteps echo in the hallway, louder than the alarm.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You duck behind the desk, hand hovering right by the thumb drive, and wait until a key scrapes in the lock before pulling it free. The computer beeps unhappily. You tuck the thumb drive in your bra and fold yourself under the desk.

The door unlocks, opens. Two steps, and then a low fuck before the door slams shut.

The man rushes to the desk and the dead man in his chair.

“John? John, you bastard!”

Slap.

Your eyes widen. Hitting a corpse? That’s a bit much, even for you.

“Wake up, you good-for-nothing—”

The stranger is nearly choked up. You can just make out the shadow of his shoes as he shakes the dead man by his lapels. So much for your two minutes.

“Shit.”

The stranger gives up. He nudges the chair over and bends over the keyboard, typing at a rapid fire pace. Then he sucks in a harsh breath. “Oh you bastard…”

Well, he must’ve found the child porn.

“Bribery wasn’t enough for you, huh?” the man mutters. “You sick fuck.” He’s typing again. Your legs are starting to cramp. You’re used to lying flat on rooftops, not stuffing yourself in tiny spaces.

Wait—was that the trash can noise? Is he deleting evidence?

Well that won’t do.

A harsh shove of your foot sends the dead man’s chair careening back into the wall. The typing stops, the stranger drops to one knee, and you barrel into him, arms fastening fast around his neck as you catch him in a chokehold.

“Wha—”

His voice cuts off, his fingers digging painfully tight into your arms as you squeeze the breath out of him. You grit your teeth against his struggles, your tailbone bruising against the floor as he flails his legs. You’re not trying to kill him, just to render—him—unconscious.

One of his hands drops from your arm, reaches into his pocket. Your eyes widen as his thumb swipes. The dial tone.

“Shit,” you mutter. You aim your leg, kick at his hand until he groans, but it’s too late. Someone’s picked up.

“Hello? Rick?”

Rick gasps just loud enough. You tighten your elbow around his neck, his eyes bug out, but he manages it.

“John’s—office—”

Then Rick slumps, finally unconscious.

“Rick? Rick?!”

You wriggle out from under Rick’s prone body and dig his phone out of his pocket. A single click, and his phone’s off. You pat Rick down, but he’s got zero weapons.

“What is it with these people? Why do none of them carry guns?” you grumble.

“It’s because they have armed security,” Luka grumbles in your ear.

“Luka!” You pop to your feet with a delighted grin. The edge of the thumb drive digs into your chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be inside in a few minutes to get you,” he says.

Tension melts out of you. “Luka, you sweetheart.” He might look gentle, but Luka’s one of the fiercest close-combat fighters you know. If he can get to you, you’ll both get out safe.

Still, no point in wandering around as unarmed as you are now. You scan the room, desperate for any kind of weapon. Your phone is tucked in the pocket of your leggings, but you’ve still got one pocket free. A pen jar… Aha, there. A letter opener.

“Head to the warehouse,” Kasie says. Her voice is grainy. “Damn, SHIELD’s interfering with my signal. Luka, meet hsssssssssss—”

Kasie’s comm cuts out, but you got the memo.

You heft the letter opener in hand and stalk to the door. One quick breath, a listen for any sounds under the alarm, and you slip into the empty hallway at a light jog. Red lights whir overhead. Distant popping filters through your earpiece, and then comes Luka’s voice.

“See you soon,” he whispers.

A click, and all you can hear is the alarm.

—

Eleven minutes later, Doc Martens slamming on the concrete as you race through a giant warehouse, you’re regretting those extra two minutes.

“Y’know,” you pant, “whoever thought these shoes were a good idea has clearly never had to run in them.”

A gunshot rings out behind you just as you skid around a corner. You don’t look back. The armed security that Rick had summoned had caught up two minutes back, and it’s been a race to the finish. Plus, somewhere SHIELD is lurking, waiting…

Another gunshot. The bullet whizzes so close you can feel its wake. You can hear them behind you yelling at you, yelling about SHIELD on its way—

“Shit shit shit!”

Another corner looms ahead; you take it.

Still running, you pull a pin out of your hair. It’s not a comm device, it’s not a thumb drive, it’s not a bug. It’s a gift from Kasie, the very one who warned you about all this Avengers and SHIELD nonsense from the start.

You hurl yourself between two stacks of boxes before anyone turns down your aisle.

“How long?” you whisper.

“Forty seconds,” Luka answers.

Running footsteps pound close, voices echo closer, and you wince.

“Too long,” you say. “Scram, Luka!”

“Wait—”

You twist the hairpin, lean to the side, and throw it into the aisle. Then you curl into a ball and cover your head with your hands.

A heavy moment, still and quiet save for the slowed footsteps and a confused huh. One single scuff of a shoe as someone bends to look. You suck in one last breath.

An explosion rocks the warehouse. Sound and heat wash over you as the boxes at your back shudder. There’s an overwhelming urge to look, to peek, but you stay curled up, head protected, as the boxes over your head slide and start to fall. The edge of one pokes into your back, hard and painful against your spine, but at this point you can’t move. The crackle of flames is loud in your ears. The sickly smell of burnt sugar tickles your nose, and you cough. Smoke catches in your throat. You gag, eyes still squeezed shut. You breathe straight into the arm of your sweatshirt, shimmying your hands out of the burning plastic gloves and tossing them aside.

At least the running has stopped. All you can hear is a faint ringing, the alarm and something else. No one’s following you anymore, not that you can—

The box at your back flies away. Your eyes pop open and instantly swell with tears from the smoke. Before you can even move, hands are on you, pulling you up, out. Your eyes are burning, so much that you can’t see. Your assailant tugs you against their chest, holding you too tight to escape. You shout, kick, and then you realize that one of the hands on you is metal.

You still. Try and blink the smoke out of your eyes. A black uniform, straps, holsters…

“Bucky?”

“Next time,” Bucky growls, “wait.”

—

You blink the tears from your eyes, grasping weakly at Bucky’s shoulder as he hurries through the smoke. All you can hear is a faint ringing. You hadn’t expected the hairpin bomb to be so loud. Nor so… successful. So destructive?

Bombs aren’t your style. Never have been. But at that kind of disadvantage…

You couldn’t risk it. The data you’ve got—your own life—

Bucky shoves an emergency exit open. The alarm’s already ringing, at least. Smoke billows out over your head as you stumble outside, gasping in the sweet fresh air, clearing your lungs of burnt jellybeans and smoke and fire. You lean heavily against the concrete wall, head tipped back and eyes closed as you catch your breath.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky hisses.

You open your eyes slowly, still breathing heavily. Your vision is still blurry, and it’s hard to make his expression out right away. “Just that I wanted to not get shot.”

Bucky glares at you. You blink, confused. It’s not like he hasn’t had to make spur-of-the-moment choices.

“I didn’t have a gun, and I can’t run as fast as you. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here!”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here, either.” You close your eyes again. You hadn’t breathed in that much smoke, but after that sprint through the warehouse, it was enough to drain you. Anyway, Bucky’s seen you turn into a puddle before. Hell, he’s made you turn into a puddle before. You bat those thoughts away and force your eyes back open. “If I’d known there were SHIELD shenanigans going on, maybe I would have brought a gun.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Why the hell didn’t you? How can you just walk in somewhere that dangerous so fucking unprepared—”

“Not all of us can flash a shiny badge to get through security, Bucky.” You gesture at yourself, at your smoking sweatshirt and the Doc Martens and the leggings. His scowl doesn’t fade, and you frown at him. “Why are you so damn pissed?”

“You should’ve known better.”

“Somehow I managed just fine in worse scrapes than this before you came along.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I wasn’t dealing with so much shit before I met you! No one was impersonating me, no one was blowing my cover to SHIELD, no one was making my jobs impossible—”

“Well I’m not giving up my job,” Bucky says flatly. “I can’t.”

You purse your lips. “Neither can I, Bucky.”

He raises an eyebrow. You scrub a hand down your face.

“I know no non-extradition treaties rely on me keeping my job. But it’s real fucking hard to walk away from what I do. You know that.”

“Have you ever even tried?”

“I don’t want to try. And I shouldn’t have to. You’ve never had a problem with what I do before. Why now?”

“Why now?!” He gapes. “Are you tucking kidding me? You almost got killed by your own damn bomb!”

“I had a plan,” you say. “It’s not my fault you ruined it.” You toss your head vaguely in the direction of where Kasie and Luke had been—hopefully where they had been, because now Bucky’s looking that way, his eyes narrowed. If they’re caught—

But you know them. Kasie and Luka are professionals. They’re long gone.

At any rate, Bucky’s expression shifts. He tilts his head just barely to the side, eyes darting between you and the distance, and then finally his face softens. Finally.

“Of course,” he murmurs. He shakes his head and tugs you into his arms. His lips press against your temple, and you sigh, all your annoyance fading away. “I’m sorry. I just—fuck, angel, I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“Yes,” you tell him. You wind your arms around his waist and squeeze tight. A comfortable silence for a few moments, but you can’t help but add, “For the record, I don’t mind being rescued by you. Even if I didn’t need it.”

His chest rumbles as he chuckles, but there’s a hint of melancholy to it. “Just wish I’d gotten to you sooner.” He steps back, looks you over. His lips twitch.

“What?” You look down, raise an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

“No, no,” Bucky says quickly. He gestures to your outfit. “I’m not used to seeing you dressed, uh, like this.”

You look down. Patterned leggings, a cropped blue sweatshirt, scuffed Doc Martens… All of it a little scorched at this point. You bite your tongue. You’re not sure if you look more like a broke college student or a gentrified hipster.

“Well, you’ve seen me in worse,” you tell him, adjusting the sweater so the wide neck bares most of a shoulder.

Bucky winces. “I’m not sure about that.”

“What, you don’t prefer this over that plain dress getup I had?” You wiggle your foot in the air. “Look! Legs!”

“Well,” he says, “at least then I knew exactly what you had on underneath.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh.

“No hiding any thigh holsters under these leggings, that’s for sure.”

Bucky cups his hand around the back of your neck and draws you in, his smile the last thing you see before your eyes slide shut and his lips meet yours.

It’s heaven to kiss him. Always has been. Rough and needy like the first time, brief and desperate, or even like now, soft and sweet and smiling, his hand warm on your neck as his other catches your fingers and squeezes them tight.

Bucky kisses you like he’s trying to charm away all your worries, and you let him.

A woman clears her throat, and Bucky pulls back, his face all apology as you gape, gaze flitting between Bucky and a thoroughly unamused SHIELD agent.

“Sorry,” he mouths.

One pair of handcuffs, an open van, and an unpleasant shove from the SHIELD agent later, you’re starting to think that maybe you should’ve murdered the Winter Soldier when you had the chance.

—

“You know, Barnes, I wasn’t expecting to have to detain your girlfriend.”

Agent Nunez sits quite primly in her chair, her hands folded on the table over a file and her head tilted as she looks you over. Bucky, the bastard, is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and face black as he glares at his colleague. Nunez taps her file.

“So. One casualty, two cases of second-degree burns, and thousands of dollars in damages. What do you have to say for yourself?”

You set your jaw. “I want my lawyer.”

“That’s not how this works,” Nunez says. “You didn’t get picked up by the police. This is SHIELD.”

Your jaw ticks. Oh, how badly you want to snark back at her—Oh, so SHIELD doesn’t play by the Constitution? I seeee—but you don’t. You can’t. Anything you say will be twisted, dissected, used against you.

They’ve already taken your comm device. Already taken your phone. Already taken your fingerprints, height, weight, eye color… A search more invasive than any leery airport guard’s. The only weapon you’d had after the assassination was the letter opener, and that had been abandoned in the warehouse when Bucky pulled you from the fire. They’d taken the thumb drive shoved in your bra, though. You pray they’ll make good use of it. In the meantime, though?

“I want my lawyer.”

“SHIELD isn’t interested in talking to your lawyer,” Nunez says. “We want to talk to you. And the longer it takes to get our answers, the less patient we’ll be.”

Bucky tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. Your eyes flit to him, but looking directly at him hurts. You look away.

“She’s the associate who helped on the Malinda Jackson case,” he says.

“I’m well aware,” Nunez says drily. “Invaluable help, I’m sure.” She eyes you again, her gaze lingering on your scorched sweatshirt, your bared shoulder.

You shift in your seat and tug at your restraints. You’d cover your shoulder, but you can’t move your hands more than a few inches from the table.

“At any rate, that doesn’t explain the bomb,” Nunez continues. “That kind of bomb is exclusive to factions that we do not mix with, Barnes. Just because you got your clearance back doesn’t mean you can drag the whole underworld up with you.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Shit. The whole underworld? The bomb had come from Kasie. Kasie, your friend, your mentor, your crewmate. If it’s traced back to her…

You hadn’t even thought of that. Had Bucky? Is his whole claim that SHIELD didn’t have a problem with your crew a lie? Is all this a ploy to bring them down? Bring you down?

Your eyes slide to the left. Why is he just standing there? Why did he let them take you? Did you never matter to him at all? You can’t look at him, not full-on. None of this makes sense. After everything you’ve shared, after everything you’ve said—not that you’ve said everything, but so many looks and touches and kisses…

Your stomach churns. You can’t look at him.

Instead, you stare at Agent Nunez, at her probing dark eyes and her hands folded over her file and the sharp collar on her SHIELD uniform. She raises her eyebrows at you.

“Nothing?” she asks. She sighs when you keep silent and turns to Bucky. “Barnes?”

You glance at Bucky just in time to see him glancing at you. His lips are pressed so tight together there’s barely a hint of them left.

Bucky squares his shoulders. “Send for Commander Hill.”

—

Agent Nunez uncuffs you from the table and walks you straight into a holding cell. Small, with just a low, stiff cot and a toilet in the corner. Not even a sink. It’s dim, but at least it’s clean. As spotless as the rest of the facility. And there’s an entire door, with a round porthole window. Privacy, at least, in which to rage in.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Nunez says. Only her head is visible behind the mostly closed door. “Commander Hill is on her way.”

The quiet puff of the door closing is as final as any deafening slam.

You collapse onto the cot, cuffed hands dangling between your knees as your shoulders shake. You heave in deep breaths, desperate to keep your tears at bay. None of this is worthy of your tears. You’ve been in scrapes before. You’ve been nearly stabbed by the Winter Soldier, you’ve been nearly exposed by a woman you’d never met…

But your rationalizations rings hollow.

Bucky’s just a man. One man. A superhero, enhanced in myriad ways, but still just a man, in the end. Malinda Jackson is only one woman.

SHIELD?

SHIELD is something else. SHIELD is huge. Bigger than you, bigger than your crew, bigger than nearly the whole world. Certainly big enough to deal with aliens. And you… You’re just one woman too.

You cast your eyes around the room, but it’s impossible to discern where the camera is. Are? They wouldn’t leave you in here unsurveilled. That would just be stupid. And as much as you wish they were a bunch of idiots, you know better.

Well, if they’re smart, they’ll know you’ve been wanting to cry since Bucky looked at you in the alley with regret all over his awful face.

You lie down, bury your head in your arms, and let the tears flow.

—

The door grinds open. You stiffen. You’re still lying down, face concealed. Without a clock or watch or phone, you have no idea how long it’s been. But it can’t have been long. Your cheeks are still damp. Ten, fifteen minutes? Was Commander Hill so close all along?

The door eases shut. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in. Did they just take a look? A quick peek at the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend?

The cot dips by your stomach. A chill settles over you. A heavy hand settles on your hip, nudging you until you turn to look up at—Bucky. His face is paler than usual, his eyes wide as he stares at you. Your heart skips a beat as you blink the last tears from your eyes. He reaches to wipe your cheeks, but you sit up and scoot away before he can touch you any more.

“Why?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. His hands slowly drop into his lap.

You don’t need to say any more. He knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Because I thought this was the best way to keep you from getting actually arrested.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Your face—it was on all sorts of cameras. Not while—” He glances at the door. “Not while you were in the bathroom. But in the warehouse? They know it was you who set that bomb. There’s no escaping that.”

Your heart sinks. That’s true. Kasie and Luka had set things up so your foray into the office wing was undetectable, but the detour into the warehouse…

Damn it, that was Kasie’s call. And now you’re suffering for it.

“That’s the trouble with spur-of-the-moment decisions,” you mutter. “Spur-of-the-moment screws-ups.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, “don’t beat yourself up too much.” He slants a smile your way. “I’ve done worse.”

“Oh?”

“I almost killed Captain America.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but it doesn’t quite make it to your lips. “That wasn’t you, Bucky.”

“Oh, I meant last week,” Bucky says. “Definitely almost killed Sam. He deserved it, though.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” He catches your eye. “And I’m dead serious about why I did this, too. This isn’t about catching you.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you could.”

“Found you on that island, didn’t I?” Bucky’s smirk is all kinds of dangerous, and you look away, biting your tongue, as a flush pricks at your cheeks. “Besides, they knew I had you. If I’d let you go… It would’ve gone worse.”

“Right,” you scoff, but something inside you settles back in place. Maybe Bucky had gotten you caught in SHIELD’s crossfires, but it hadn’t been to hurt you, or to catch you. It’s so he can help you. He’s not out to get you. Even if things are dark right now, even if you’re in the scariest place you’ve ever been, he’s still your Bucky. Still the little shit you lo—adore.

You reach out, handcuffs clinking, to grab his hands and fix your eyes on his.

“I believe you,” you tell him. His face softens, but you squeeze his hands harder, and he stills. “Now fix it.” You pull your hands away and try to cross your arms, but the cuffs won’t let you. You huff and drop them in your lap.

Bucky squeezes your knee. “I sent for Hill,” he says. “We just have to wait. I’m sure she’ll figure something out. She… knows of you.”

Undercurrents hopefully indiscernible to whoever’s listening in, but you hope he means that Hill is well aware of your crew. And, if you’re reading him right, she’s aware too of SHIELD’s hands-off policy towards you.

“Okay.” You nod. “Okay.”

He nods back. An understanding you pray follows through. If it doesn’t…

Bucky scoots closer and angles himself so his back is to the windowed door. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

You rattle your cuffed hands on your lap. “I can’t exactly go anywhere.”

“It’s important.” His eyes flit between yours, but he doesn’t go on. You roll your eyes.

“What, you love me?” you scoff.

Bucky’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes. “I mean, I—”

“For god’s sake, Bucky, I’m kidding,” you hiss.

Bucky’s face goes blank.

Something tightens in your throat. You sigh. A glance at the door; you shift your legs so no one can see as you slide your hands a little closer to him, palm up, and glance down meaningfully. Bucky’s brows pinch together as you wiggle your fingers. Carefully, surreptitiously, he lets his fingers brush against yours. It takes all your willpower not to grip his hand so tight it hurts, tight enough so you could pull him close, hold him—

But you can’t.

“Now’s not the time,” you say, gentler.

“Isn’t it, though?” Bucky sighs and runs his hand through his hair. There’s a noise outside, one that has you both flinching, staring at the door, holding your breath. Bucky’s hand drops to the knife at his side.

The sound fades. No shadows fall against the window. You’re still alone.

“I do,” Bucky says, still staring at the door.

Your heart leaps in your chest. Words crowd in your throat, too many for you to find a single thing to say.

“I do, angel.” There’s another scuff outside the door—footsteps, you think—and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand properly this time. He looks back to you, finally, and every witticism, every word, dies on your tongue.

Every single feeling that’s burning in your chest is mirrored in his eyes. You blink, bite your lip, swallow.

“You love me?” you breathe.

“God yes,” Bucky answers, his voice thick. His metal hand cups your cheek; he presses his forehead to yours. “How could I not?”

“You know I’m a criminal, right?”

The smallest, most beautiful huff of a laugh escapes his lips. Okay, so maybe not every witticism went away. But that’s the you that Bucky loves. You and your mouth.

“Not yet.”

Bucky stands up just as a shadow falls across the window. A key scrapes in the lock. You gaze up at him, your hand cold now that he’s feet away. Funny how easily he does that.

The door swings open, and a tall thin silhouette hovers in the doorway. When your eyes clear from the onslaught of bright hallway light, you at last make out Maria Hill.

“Barnes,” she says, “what the hell am I going to do with you?”

“Dunno,” Bucky says. He tilts his head in your direction. “I’m more interested in talking about what you’re gonna do with her.”

—

The same interrogation room, but this time Nick Fury’s right hand herself sits across from you. Your hands are back chained to the table. Unlike before, with Agent Nunez, Bucky is perched on the edge of table, twisted so he can study Hill’s file.

“So Agent Nunez tells me you were uncooperative,” Hill says to you.

“We were waiting for you,” Bucky says.

Hill rolls her eyes. “You’re not her lawyer, Barnes. Let her speak for herself.”

You open your mouth, close it. Your lawyer request is probably the wrong move right now, but… what on earth would be right? Maria Hill has the power to make you disappear. You stare at her with pinched brows, catching your tongue between your teeth.

“Or not,” Hill says eventually. She sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk it through, and maybe in the meantime you’ll decide to stop clamming up.” She sorts through the file. “I’m assuming you weren’t just there for a tour.”

You don’t signify that with a response.

“So these are the men from the warehouse,” Hill says. She tugs our the third page in her folder—three pictures, with names and one marked deceased.

You don’t react.

“All victims of your bomb. But also all armed, without permits, and records to boot.” Hill studies you with severe concentration, but your expression is bland as can be. “Presumably you wouldn’t have set off that bomb if they had been unarmed,” she continues. “But that’s not the most interesting part.”

Another page drawn out, and your heart stutters. The two men you’d encountered in the office wing, your target and the Rick fellow you’d rendered unconscious.

“Richard Cline here says he was attacked by someone matching your description in John Franklin’s office. And Franklin, according to his autopsy, had just had a heart attack. That can’t possibly be a coincidence.”

The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth. Your eyes widen—you’ve bitten your tongue? You can’t remember the last time you’ve done something so stupid. So telling. It takes all of your willpower not to automatically spit the damn stuff all across the files, all across Maria Hill.

Instead, you swallow it. Swallow your pride. John Franklin’s office had more than a dead man inside it. You lick your teeth, hoping to wipe the blood away.

“Franklin had child porn,” you say. “Lots.”

“Excuse me?” Hill’s eyes widen. She rifles through her files. “I’ve got nothing on—”

“The drive I had,” you interrupt. “Nunez took it. Sent it off to be inspected. Dunno when that was. Hard to tell time around here, what with your blank walls.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder. Hill’s eyes flit between you and settle on Bucky.

“When did you two meet again?” she asks.

You open your mouth, then close it. A glance at Bucky. He shrugs.

“Before the Malinda Jackson case,” he says curtly. “Why?”

Hill pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Yes, quite…” She scrolls along, but you’ve no idea what she’s looking at. “Right, of course—you’re the reason that he was so distracted when Rex Carston was murdered.”

Your vision swims.

“Damn, Hill.” Bucky’s hand tightens on your shoulder. It’s the only thing keeping you from sliding under the table in shock. “Isn’t there something about leaving stuff at the opera?”

“It’s ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,’ and you were not in Vegas.” Hill shakes her head. “Wow, Barnes. I have to hand it to you. That’s a long time to keep a secret like this.” Hill looks at you with something like—approval? “You’re part of Kasiemobi’s crew.”

A roaring in your ears. You lurch to your feet, the chair beneath you clattering to the floor. Kasie—your crew—

“Calm down,” Hill says. She leans back in her chair and holds up empty hands placatingly. “You’ve got a blanket pass from us. Although… I have to ask how the hell you screwed up so badly today.”

Bucky bends to right your chair. You slide back into it, fingers trembling.

“I—” You swallow. A glance at Bucky, and you find some strength in his eyes. You look back to Maria Hill. Swallow again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hill nods. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t trust me either. And I imagine SHIELD probably had something to do with your spectacular mess.” She collects her file and tucks it under her arm. “I’m going to confirm that tip about the child porn, and then Bucky can escort you—wherever you need to go. However.” She narrows her eyes at you both. “Open communication about your whereabouts. Try it next time.”

Your mouth drops open, Bucky sputters, and Hill strides out the door, leaving you chained to the table and Bucky with you.

A beat, and then Bucky is laughing, gripping his sides, bent over, positively cackling with amusement. You tug at the handcuffs, but neither they nor the table budges.

“I don’t—” a grunt as you try to tug free— “get—what’s so—funny!”

Bucky gasps, wipes his eye, catches his breath. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he swoops down and clutches your face in his hands to pepper kisses across your cheeks and mouth until you’re screwing up your nose and squirming away.

“Bucky! Stop!”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the brilliant smile on his face. Despite the anxiety slicing through you, there’s a rush of warmth at that beautiful face.

God never made a man this good.

“Don’t you get it?” he says, his smile brighter than any sun. “You’re okay!”

So much delight is shining out of his eyes that you can’t help the smile spreading on your face. Bucky traces your lips with the rough pad of his thumb.

“You’re okay, angel,” he murmurs.

You rattle your handcuffs and raise your eyebrows. “You might want to rethink that pet name. Most angels don’t get cuffed to interrogation tables.”

“Most angels don’t wear Doc Martens either, yet here we are.”

You scuff your shoes against the floor and duck your chin. “I was starting to like these, actually. I know you don’t like ‘em, but…”

“Actually, this look is starting to grow on me,” Bucky says. He nudges your face back up towards his. “But you know my favorite look is the one you’ll have just as soon as I can whisk you outta here and get you—”

Your heart skips a beat as Bucky breaks off, his lips twitching. He glances meaningfully at the door. His unspoken words hangs in the air, clear as day, clear as the light in his dark blue eyes.

Home, in bed, with me.

You turn your head and kiss his metal palm, then the other.

“I like that look too.”

—

“Somehow, Hill always manages to remind me about paperwork.”

Bucky’s grumping has you giggling as he drags you up a flight of stairs to his hotel room, your Doc Martens thumping louder on their stairs than Bucky’s steel-toed boots, bless. With him, here, so close to being finally and properly alone, the stress from the longest day of your life is starting to unwind.

“She does, doesn’t she?” you tease.

Steps from the stairwell to his door, the slide of a key into the lock, and then you’re inside. Bucky triple locks the door—regular lock, deadbolt, chain lock—with brisk precision, and then you pounce.

You fist your fingers in his hair and tug his face down to yours so you can finally capture his lips. He moans into your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist without a moment’s hesitation. Every single bit of stress melts away under his touch, his lips, the feel of that beautiful body pressed tight against yours. You tug a hand free from Bucky’s hair and start on the buckles of his holsters, of his uniform. They fall easily, as they should. It’s criminal to keep this man covered for a second longer than he needs to be.

Bucky slips his hands up under your cropped sweater and pushes it up your arms, over your head. You toss it aside and fall to your knees to unbuckle the holster on his thigh, your hands dancing dangerously close to the growing bulge in his pants.

“God, fuck me sideways,” he mumbles, his hand on your hair and the other against the door. You raise an eyebrow. His knife falls to the floor.

“If you like,” you say. “I was kinda hoping to fuck you right here, but—”

Bucky tugs you straight back into his arms. He catches you around the waist, settling you at arm’s length, breathing heavily. You reach for him, frowning, but he grabs your hands and holds them tight. His eyes bore into yours as his breathing steadies. The seconds stretch by, long and agonizing when all you want to do is touch him, but he’s just looking, watching, drinking you in.

It’s not enough.

“What’s wrong?” you demand.

“Wrong?” Bucky shakes his head, gives a little huff. “I… Nothing’s wrong. Except I said something, earlier. And you haven’t said it back.”

You blink.

“Oh,” you say. You tug your hands free from his and step closer, close enough so your chest brushes his. You cradle his face in your hands, the scruff on his cheeks a tingle against your palms. Bucky grips your hips, holding you close against him. His eyes burn bright, bright as the sun, bright as the moon, bright as every single star in the universe. They’re all burning in your chest, in your heart.

“I love you, Bucky,” you tell him. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Only one kiss right now, because when have you ever settled for just three words? “I love you so much I think it should be illegal. I love your face, I love your body, I love your brain, I love your mind, your smile—”

Bucky grins at that. You can’t help but smile back.

“I love your soul,” you tell him.

His grin softens into something like awe, those plush lips of his just barely parted.

You trace the shape of his face, his cheekbones, his jaw, his mouth. Your whole body is full of something so warm, so tender, that you never would have been able to name it before. Before him. “You’re beautiful to me. In every way.”

“I guess it takes an killer to love a killer,” he says, lips twitching.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah. It just worked out that way. For us.”

“I don’t think someone who isn’t in our line of work would love that part of me quite as much as you do, though,” Bucky says, grinning again. He starts walking backwards, not quite slow enough to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, they wouldn’t know just how brilliant you are,” you deadpan. “I, on the other hand, have an intimate understanding of just how good you are at your job.”

“When I’m not being distracted, you mean,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh.

Bucky lowers his hands to your thighs and hikes you up, looping your legs around his waist as you wind your arms around his neck.

“Well,” he says, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose, “now that’s settled, where were we?”

You tilt your head, and then Bucky grinds his hips up, his clothed cock driving straight against your core.

“Fuck!” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. The warmth in your chest boils over, needy, desperate, sudden, hot.

“There we go,” he murmurs, eyes all but black. He slips his left hand under your sweater and claims your lips.

You let your legs fall to the floor. Bucky’s hand under your ass holds you up as he tastes you, drinking you in as you devour him back.

His metal hand kneads your breast, and you gasp into his eager mouth. Fire sparks along your spine, to your fingers, your toes, to that pulsing bundle of nerves between your legs as he takes you apart with only a single hand on your breast and his lips on yours. You’re a mess before his other hand dips into your leggings, pushing them and your panties down over your hips, baring your hips, your legs… You toe off the Doc Martens, your socks tugging free easily along with them as you work your leggings the rest of the way off until you’re just in a bra before him.

You break away from the kiss, breathing heavily. Bucky’s metal hand is still at your breast, the other is cupping your bare ass—and it feels so delicious to have his hands on you—but there’s something wrong.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “Bucky, why are you wearing so many clothes?”

“Well—” he kisses you again, squeezes your ass— “because the nice thing about your cute little outfit today was how little was actually involved.” His hand slides lower, lifting you onto your tiptoes, teasing—

“Oh!” You clutch desperately at his shoulders, still covered with that stiff uniform. “Fu—Bucky, c’mon,” you whine. You tug at his collar; the scruff on his jaw burns your fingers, but he doesn’t relent. He curls his fingers tighter between your legs until your knees buckle and your whole world is a haze. “Fuck!”

The darkest chuckle as Bucky hefts you up, back against the wall and his leg slotted between yours, his thick pants rough against the soft skin of your thighs and his arm curled around your waist.

“Usually I have to stuff your mouth to get you at a loss for words,” he muses. His metal hand tugs at your bra strap; it snaps back against your skin. The sensation shoots straight between your legs. You suck in a breath and try to focus on Bucky’s gleaming grin, Bucky’s glinting eyes. “I dunno, babe, I’m liking this.”

“Y-you like that I can’t actually get my hands on you?”

“I mean, it’s kinda nice having you like this. All soft and pretty.”

“But with just a few moments of work,” you murmur, hands seeking out his fly, “you could be all soft and pretty too.” Zipper down, you curl your hand between your bodies and grip his hardening cock. His low groan is music to your ears. “Well, hard and pretty.”

You twist your hand, thumb circling his tip, and he hisses.

“You’re fucking nuts if you think doing that is gonna make me want to put in a drop of effort.”

You tsk and grind down on his thigh still propping you up.

“The things I suffer for you,” you tease. You wriggle until Bucky lets you drop to the floor. You sink to your knees and bat your eyelashes at him, sitting demurely on your heels. You trace a finger along the seam of your lips. Bucky reaches for his cock, but you shake your head.

“No no,” you tell him.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Don’t be a tease, angel.”

“Me?” You suck your finger into your mouth. A lewd pop as you pull it free. “A tease?” You trace your hand down your neck, past your collarbone, straight down to circle a pebbled nipple, straining against the soft cup of your bra. You don’t bother containing your shudder, your whimper. “Such an unfounded allegation.”

Bucky’s growl is, you decide, an altogether fair reaction.

“Why don’t you take that pretty bra off?” he says.

“I suppose I could.” You slide the straps down your shoulders and reach back to unhook it, the motion thrusting your chest forward for Bucky’s eager eyes. One slight shimmy, and you’re fully bare for him, curves and marks and all.

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking sight,” he groans.

“Already? But I haven’t even got your cock in my mouth yet.”

You lean forward, a hand on his thick thigh, but he puts a finger on your forehead before you can tug his cock free.

“Let’s change things up a bit,” he purrs. He tugs you up, gathers you in his arms, and carries you over to the bed. His uniform is rough against your skin, but there’s a thrill in it. Here you are, bare, vulnerable, wide open straight down to your soul, tossed on the bed like a sack of potatoes, and then there’s Bucky.

You’ve never seen him quite so much like the Winter Soldier in the bedroom. All that black material straining over his chest, his tapered waist, his thick arms, the left bared for your enjoyment. He looks so damn powerful as he stands over you. Just the sight of him staring down at you with blackened eyes and that uniform sends a rush of heat to your core.

“Bucky,” you moan.

He grins. “Who’s complaining now?”

“You will be, if I decide I’m bored of not having your hands on me.”

“Aw, angel, don’t be like that.” Bucky crawls across the giant bed, caging you in. You press your thighs together, not quite so lost as to reach for him. Instead, you let your fingers dance along your belly, the light sensation going straight to where you crave him most.

“No need for that,” he murmurs. He settles between your legs, spreads them wantonly wide to make room for his head, his shoulders. “Time to make good use of my mouth.”

Bucky dives right in. He licks a solid stripe up along your cunt, his scruff burning your thighs but you couldn’t care less. Your legs seize up, tightening around his head as your hands fly to your breasts and a gasp tumbles from your lips. When his mouth latches onto your clit, your cry is barely human.

He eats you out with more passion than usual. His tongue draws shapes against your clit, letters and numbers in more language than you know. All the while, his finger drums against your thigh, and only after the fourth repetition do you realize—it’s Morse code.

Because of course it is.

A laugh bubbles out of you.

“I love you, I love you, I love—oh fuck—I love you,” you chant, breath catching as he teases your rim.

“That okay?” he murmurs.

“Oh—fuck me, yes, yes!”

A slow push, and his finger is in your ass. It’s—it’s different, it’s dark and heady and there’s nothing stopping you from bucking your hips into his eager mouth, chasing every ounce of pleasure—of love—that he can give.

And oh, he gives. His tongue on your clit, his finger moving slow and deep, sucking and thrusting and holding you down with his free hand so there’s no escaping the oncoming precipice.

You’re gone far sooner than ever before, cunt spasming against nothing until Bucky eases two fingers in, gentle. He hums, the vibrations prompting a fresh shudder as you collapse against the mattress, every bone in your body somewhere else. You can’t see a damn thing. Only the memory of Bucky, telling you he loves you, and then it all just fades away.

Minutes pass before you come back to yourself. You blink away the stupor. Bucky sits on his haunches, sucking his fingers clean. His eyes are dark and hungry yet so damn soft as he looks down at you spread wide just for him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. He lays down alongside you side, cups your damp face in his warm hand. “I love you.”

You open your arms to him, and he settles with his ear over your heart and his hand splayed on your belly. You can feel dampness on his beard, and your lips curl into a smile.

“I love you too.” You kiss his forehead and breathe him in. It’s him, all right. It’s him, and he’s home.

How nice to be home. It’s been a long day. An uncomfortable bus ride to the Jelly Belly factory, an assassination, a chase, an explosion. Hours in SHIELD custody, not one but two interrogations, and the first declaration of love you’ve ever received—or given.

Yes, a long day.

Bucky lets you hold him, the silence sweet and comfortable. He’s still in uniform, the straps and buckles rough against your bare skin. You’re too tired to do anything about it. Bucky’s face is tilted up so he can look at you every now and then, but you’re nodding off. The world goes hazy around you. Bucky eases himself out of your arms. You shift, a little whine building in the back of your throat until he shushes you.

“Rest, love,” he whispers. A clink, a thud, some zips, and then he slides in beside you, his body bare and warm and perfect. With a click, the room goes dark.

You tuck your face against his shoulder. “Love you,” you mumble.

Bucky presses a kiss to your hair.

He’s here. You’re together, and you’re home.

#Attie’s Challenge Challenge #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes #looks to die for #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut

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