Shh Don't Look Here

29, Lithuanian- French. The rest is nonya

[cranbrri2244]

mattheo riddle mini headcannons

things he does that are just so him

sort of freaky edition heh -----

he absolutley adores SLOW kissing. any moment he's admiring you, you can tell by his eyes that he wants it, he'll grab your face and just kiss you so deeply and slowly, taking his time with you that it's impossible to pull away.

in big crowds he dosen't DARE ever leave you, he will always have either his hand in yours or both hands around your waist, guiding you.

anytime he can get the chance he WILL be putting his fingers in your mouth. and everytime he does, he just closes his eyes and tries not to make a sound.

he's very big on mock sympathy. anytime you're expressing dumb frustration over something small or stupid he'll hold your chin up with his finger and say something like, "oh yeah? aw baby, i'm so sorry" in the hottest mocking tone ever. (he's not mean about it, you both know you're frustrated over something dumb)

he curses your name under his breath everytime you kiss his neck, "fuck,___" is something that never fails to leave his mouth.

he loves it when you play with his hair. sometimes, while you're watching tv, he'll lay down in between your legs and let you play with his curls. he secretly finds it funny when you give him a bunch of tiny braids but he tries not to laugh just so you don't do it again, but that never works anyways.

for some reason, he always tells you never to be afraid to scratch him, he finds it so sexy to see the scratches on his back after you guys do it.

[keresacheron]

Dinosaur cartoon.

[cryoverkiltmilk]

Important reminder

[geeky-fuckery]

This reminds me of the fact that "Ancient Egypt" goes back so many thousands of years, that the most recent "Ancient Egyptians" were already studying (even more) Ancient Egypt.

[charlesoberonn]

Not even the most recent ones. It was an Egyptian prince from the 13th century BCE studying and restoring artifacts from the 26th century BCE.

[charlesoberonn]

For context, the last Pharaoh, Cleopatra VII, lived in the 1st century BCE. Prince Khaemweset, known as "the first egyptologist", was as ancient to her as the pyramids and tombs he was studying were ancient to him.

[plaugiest-deactivated20260525]

all i can think about is mean annoying steve overstimulating reader bc he just. can’t. get. enough.

mean!steve harrington overstimulating his poor girlfriend

something about steve was different tonight— something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. and maybe it was just the hormones talking, too much unregulated testosterone pent up. until the only thing that made sense to him was to release it— release all the pressure, all the heat that drove him absolutely mad onto his precious girlfriend— you.

"f-fuckk, baby." steve throws his head back, rough hands gripping tight around your waist as his fingers dug moon-shaped crescents into the soft flesh of your skin— groaning to the feeling of your warm, velvety walls swallowing around his dick with each mean drag of his hips.

your body rocking back and forth— ass perched up with your face buried in the pillow. he’s feeding your cunt, inch by inch until you’re squirming because it’s just too much. “mm, wait steve!” you’re moaning softly, subconsciously trying to crawl away from how deep he is before his hand cracks down onto the flesh of your ass with a stinging burn as he drags you down by the hips— flush against his pelvis, nuzzling sweet against that spot that makes you go dumb.

“c’mon, princess— you know better than that.” steve rasped, gliding his tongue along his bottom lip with a sinful grin. “and y’know there’s no waitin’.” his voice lowers, playful but full of lust before he’s leaning down to press soft, wet kisses along the spine of your back.

“b-but—”

steve knew you hated this position, it’s a little too advanced for you. the way he bends your body like a damn ragdoll, getting too carried away, and starts stuffing your pussy full like an animal in heat as you’re sweet on your knees— crying and whimpering underneath him.

“no buts, baby.” steve cuts your words off before you can even get a sentence out. “is this your first time taking me?” his lips graze against your ear, a palm pressing your back into the perfect arch making you whine— shaking your head no, before he’s angling his hips inside you.

“hmmm?” he hums, dragging his hips back ever so slightly before driving his hips forwards with the meanest thrust, just to hear your pretty mouth give him the sounds he wants to hear. “words, honey.” he whispers as your trembling beneath him, biting down on your lip as your fingers claw into your pillow.

“no…” you whimper, voice soft as sin as you reply back to him. “that’s right.” his voice fading a little distant as he rises up, “that means there’s no reason for us to wait, yeah?” he’s slowly rocking his hips into you, groaning at the way your pulsing walls milk at his dick just right as your mouth parts into a yes, agreeing.

“thaat’s right.” he grins, picking up the pace as he nudges deeper with each thrust, burying that swollen head of his length against the crown of your cervix leaving you breathless.

“you’re so fuckin’ m-mean.” you’re stammering out, pouting with your cheek smushed against the damp pillow— and steve thinks you’re so damn gorgeous like this. lips parted, glossy eyes rolled to the back of your skull— you drooling all over yourself, your body all limp as he’s kissing your sweet spot over and over again.

“aww, yeah— stevie’s a meanie isn’t he.” steve mocks, low and condescending in your ear as his hands rock your hips against his pelvis. he’s absolutely in love with the way your pussy chokes around his thick dick— the way it makes nasty, sloppy noises every time he buries himself to the hilt, hearing your pretty little whimpers as you cream around him.

“stevie’s just sooo mean you’ve gotta make a mess all over his cock, mm pretty girl?” he coos against your ear, reaching a hand out toward your face, lightly patting your dewy cheek with strands of hair sticking to your skin.

your head is too fuzzy to even formulate coherent thoughts, or words— just drunk off of euphoric pleasure as you mewl through the overwhelming urge to gush all over steve’s dick.

“that’s it, baby.” steve drives deeper, practically bulldozing through your poor, sensitive walls as you cry out pleading. “s-steve! please, m-mmhph pleasee!” you’re slurring as your body seizes up, and you’re absolutely losing it.

his mouth is all over you— sucking on your neck, peppering pretty little kisses on your shoulders as he snakes a hand underneath your body finding your swollen bud, pressing the pads of his fingers roughly against it. “this the spot?” he groans into your ear as you squeeze around his length.

the sensation of both, him nuzzled deliciously inside your sweet cunt while his fingers worked against your poor clit became overbearing as your spine breaks its perfect arch. “ooohh, i guess that is my sweet girl’s spot.” he lets out an annoyingly gentle laugh before circling around your clit in the most merciless way.

“nnghmm, s-steve!” you’re so damn out of it, voice breathless and weak. steve’s pressing his free hand against your back, pinning you back into that mean arch as he wrecks you both physically and mentally.

“that’s my girl.” he groans fucking low, and raw as he slams his dick in and out of you. “you look so cute when you’re taking it like a champ.” he lets out a breathy, satisfied laugh while you’re there cheek buried in the pillow gasping for air as your insides convulse.

his words having an effect on your body— but you’re too spent to tell him to shut up now, as your sticky walls choke around steve. “m g-gonna—” your voice is trembling in distress, breaking off your sentence with the lewdest moans that signals straight to steve’s dick, as he involuntarily twitches inside you.

you’re gushing all over steve’s hand— soaking the sheets, your tummy as your warm fluids drip down his arm. “fuuuckkk, that’s nasty.” he groans deep in his chest, almost wrecked as he bites down on his lip to contain his lust despite his hips still driving into yours.

“c—can’t, i can’t, i—” you cry desperately as he fucks you through your orgasm. your vision flashing white, grinding your teeth as every single nerve in your body is going off. “yes you can, baby.” he purrs, soft with faux compassion— angling his hips to slam deep into another nerve-ending that has you utterly drunk on pleasure.

“gimme more, princess.” he exhales through his nose, feeling the insatiable warmth milking him dry— his body shuddering as he throws his head back with a sigh, before flipping you over in one swift motion— pulling out just enough he’s practically edging himself.

“let stevie have just oneee more taste.” he leans down, wrapping your legs around his waist as he slides his leaking tip through your slick folds making you shudder underneath him. his pupils blown out of this world as he presses his forehead against yours.

“pretty please?” the corners of his lips tug into a teasing grin once he sees you nod ever-so slightly, before he’s feeding his dick back into you.

[bruisedsoupp-deactivated2026020]

QUIET  ༝

it’s the holidays, and steve’s parents invited yours to stay at the harrington house for the week—your mom and dad tucked away in the guest room right next door, thin walls doing nothing to muffle the quiet of the sleeping house.

your cheek is smushed against steve’s bare chest, one of his arms slung heavy and possessive across your lower back, fingers lazily tracing the waistband of his sweats you stole.

you’re half-asleep, breathing slow, when you feel it: the subtle roll of his hips. just once. testing. then again. harder.

“stevie…?” you mumble, voice tiny, still syrupy with sleep.

“shhh. go back to sleep, baby.” his tone is so soft it almost sounds sweet. almost. but his hand has already slipped under the elastic, palm flattening over your ass, kneading slow and deliberate. “just getting comfy.”

you squirm a little—instinct more than protest—and he chuckles low against your hair, the sound vibrating through his ribs into your cheek.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute when you’re all drowsy and stupid,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “makes me wanna ruin you twice as bad.”

you just feel the heat crawl up your neck while his fingers dip lower, finding you already embarrassingly slick between your thighs from nothing more than his body heat and the gravel in his voice.

“steve—”

“quiet.” he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t need to. the word lands like a hand around your throat. “you’re gonna wake the whole house whining like that.”

you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper.

he shifts you like you weigh nothing—rolls you onto your stomach, then drags your hips up so your cheek stays pressed to his pillow that smells like his shampoo and cigarette smoke he swears he quit. your knees slide apart automatically. you don’t even realize you’re doing it until he hums approvingly.

“good girl. look at you. brain’s not even on yet and your cunt’s already begging for it.”

he doesn’t pull your sweats all the way off—just yanks them down to mid-thigh, enough to trap your legs together. makes everything feel tighter, more obscene. you hear the wet sound of him spitting into his palm, then the slick noise of him stroking himself once, twice, before he notches against you.

“deep breath, honey,” he coos, voice dripping fake tenderness. “you always forget how big it is.”

he doesn’t wait for the breath.

he pushes in slow—so slow—until your fingers twist in his sheets and a pathetic little sob bubbles out of you. he groans like he’s in pain, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

“fuck… there she is. that tight little thing still thinks it can keep me out.” he rocks forward another inch, stretching you open while you whimper into the pillow. “but we both know it can’t, right? we both know this pussy was made to take me.”

you’re shaking. not from pain—though it burns, god it burns—but from the humiliating way your body just… gives up. opens for him like it’s been trained. you feel so small under him, so stupidly full already and he’s not even halfway in.

he pulls back just to watch the way you clench around nothing, then sinks in deeper on the next thrust, bottoming out with a grunt.

“there we go,” he breathes against the nape of your neck. “all the way in that innocent little belly. feel that?”

you nod frantically, tears pricking your lashes. you do feel it. you feel everything. the way the head of him kisses your cervix, the way your walls flutter uselessly trying to push him out even though you’re dripping down your thighs.

he starts fucking you slow—mean slow. long, deep drags that make wet, filthy sounds fill the quiet room. every time you try to muffle yourself he reaches around, two fingers hooking into your mouth like a gag.

“nuh-uh. let me hear it. let me hear how my sweet dumb baby sounds when she’s getting her cunt rearranged at three in the morning.”

you drool around his fingers. you can’t help it. he laughs and speeds up just enough to make the headboard tap the wall once, twice, before he catches it with his palm and holds it still.

“careful,” he whispers, lips against your ear. “wouldn’t want your parents to know their good girl’s getting bred like a needy little bitch in my childhood bedroom, would we?”

the words hit like a slap. your whole body locks up, clenching so hard around him he curses under his breath.

“yeah… yeah, there it is.” he’s panting now, losing the slow control. “you love it when i talk to you like this, huh? makes you so fuckin’ wet i can feel it dripping down my balls.”

he pulls his fingers from your mouth, smears the spit across your cheek, then grips your jaw, turning your face so he can see the tears and the flush and the way your eyes have gone glassy.

“say it,” he orders quietly. “say ‘thank you for fucking me, steve’.”

your voice cracks, barely audible. “th-thank you for fucking me, stevie…”

he groans like you’ve wounded him, slams in hard once—hard enough that your teeth click together—then goes back to that devastating slow grind.

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your crying eye. “so polite even when i’m balls deep in your guts.”

he keeps you like that for what feels like forever—slow, nasty, whispering the filthiest things into your hair while his hand slips between your legs to rub messy circles over your clit until you’re trembling, sobbing, coming so hard you almost black out.

he doesn’t pull out when he finishes. just presses in as deep as humanly possible and stays there, pulsing, filling you up while he strokes your spine like you’re something precious.

“stay,” he mumbles when you try to shift. “keep me warm. you’re so good at it.”

you’re still sniffling, still shaking, still leaking him when he finally rolls you both onto your sides again, tucking you back against his chest like nothing happened. like he didn’t just spend forty minutes dismantling you.

[kill3ill]

steve’s plaything (18+)

you and steve have an unspoken agreement where you must have your hands on each other 24/7. you could be in bed with his shirt on and no undergarments, (he forbids them in the house) and his hand will be under your shirt, cupping your chest. he doesn't even bother looking at what he's doing or where his hands are going because he's half asleep and this is a regular between the two of you.

his hand palms you slow and thoughtless as if it's second nature. thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffens. "y'cold or somethin’?" he mutters, to which you nod, moaning as he continues fondling you with his palm while his thumb traces wide circles on your puffy bud.

"come closer then, ill warm ya," he says, turning you onto your side and dragging you flush against his front, sliding both big hands up your shirt to cup your mounds, kneading them softly. letting out a pleased hum, you tip your head back against his chest. "mmh, better,"

he grins and kisses your forehead. groping you allows him to fall asleep quick.

another time he'll be watching tv with you sideways across his lap, shirt rucked up and held between your teeth while he stuffs his hand in your shorts to bury two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckle. squirming and moaning, you whine, "w-wait, steve! mnh- c-can you warn me next time?"

to which he responds, "oh please. like you don't put your little hands on my dick whenever you want. now sit still." lazily. his fingers pump slow and steady, dragging against that tender spot inside until you’re biting your lip and tipping your head back in ecstasy.

steve's thumb nudges lazily against your clit, pinching faintly just to hear your squeals some more. it gets him off, how sensitive and easy to push you are. his thumb continues flicking and pressing down on the bundle while his fingers curl against a particularly squishy and sensitive spot inside you.

your thighs twitch as he keeps you stuffed with his thick digits. the tv hums in the background, nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from between your legs as he fingers you. "that's a good girl, sweetheart. take it for me."

you always return the favor though. when he least expects it, busy with something that requires his phone in hand and a bunch of papers scattered on the table, you'll slide off your chair beside him to slip under the table discreetly. he doesn't notice until you tug his sweats down over his hips. "mm. what're ya doin' down there?" he asks dryly even though he knows exactly what you have planned for him.

his thighs spread for you without question, and eagerly, you start kitten licking at his tip until it twitches, the teasing swipes of your tongue already riling up his fat cock. when you take him deeper and he feels your throat stretch around him, he groans loudly, leaning back to look into your eyes as you blow him.

you go slowly on purpose, letting him feel every drag of your lips hugging tight around his length, and the pulse of your throat whenever you try to take him deeper. his cock throbs against your tongue, thick veins pressing to the wet heat of your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the head on the way back up, collecting the bead of precum and dragging it down his shaft. "ah- yeah baby, just like that." he sucks in a breath, exhaling heaving each time you bury your mouth to the base.

saliva starts slipping down your chin, sticky strands connecting to steve's cock when you pull back to breathe. his hips shift forward a fraction, enough to press further into you while you bob your head to suck him in. the mess only makes him twitch harder in your mouth, precum spilling more freely for you to swallow down. gulping that only prepares your throat to accommodate both him and his load when it comes soon after.

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[dixontardis]

Hiii! Could I request dom!Bellamy x fem!reader x dom!Murphy. Where she's been a brat all day and they punish her maybe by spanking and overstimulation

(And a little dumbification as well 🤭)

A/N: ooo yes of course!!

MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, brat taming, dom!murphy, dom!bellamy, overstimulation, spit roast, spit, spanking, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, p in v, oral (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum in mouth, dumbification

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 & 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓

You’d been a nightmare all day.

Rolling your eyes at Bellamy. Laughing too loudly at Murphy’s stupid jokes. Bending over in front of both of them in those tiny little sleep shorts like you didn’t know they could see your ass.

You stole Bellamy’s food. You moaned Murphy’s name while stretching in the hallway, knowing damn well he was behind you. And when Bellamy finally called you out for it, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Princess” he warned, voice low.

But you just winked.

And now?

Now you're bare-assed over the edge of the narrow Ark bunk, wrists bound behind your back with someone’s belt, your cheek pressed to the thin mattress, and your thighs sticky with arousal.

“I warned you” Bellamy mutters, dragging his hand over the curve of your ass.

“Didn’t realize teasing two grown men would make them cry” you purr, all fake sweetness, until the first crack of his palm makes your breath catch.

Murphy’s behind you somewhere, laughing, shirt already off, cock already hard, “She wants the spanking, Blake. She's soaked”

You let out a soft, sinful whimper, arching your back just enough to tempt another strike.

Bellamy gives it to you. Harder.

“Count” he snaps.

You moan, “One…”

Murphy crouches beside the bed, fingers tilting your chin up, cocky smirk on full display, “Thought you were a brat” he says, thumb brushing your lips “Now you’re just drooling and obedient. Cute”

You should insult him. You should bite.

Instead, you open your mouth, let him push his fingers past your lips, and suck like a good girl.

Bellamy delivers another smack to your ass, this one sharper, and you whimper around Murphy’s fingers.

“Two…”

“You’re dripping” Bellamy mutters, dragging two fingers through your folds “Fucking pathetic”

You whine as Murphy pulls his fingers free and slaps your cheek with them, “Look at that face” he coos “Already all dumb and we haven’t even fucked you yet”

“Need it” you whisper, desperate, writhing between them “Need you both…”

“Yeah?” Murphy’s hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back “You need two cocks to fuck the brat out of you?”

Bellamy’s already lining up behind you, thick cock nudging your soaked entrance, “You gonna say sorry first?”

“No” you smirk, even as your legs tremble.

“Good ” Bellamy growls, and thrusts. Deep. Hard. Brutal.

You scream.

Murphy laughs darkly, “She doesn’t learn easy”

“Doesn’t have to” Bellamy grunts, fucking into you with relentless rhythm “We’ll fuck it into her”

Murphy moves in front of you, cock in hand “Open up, sweetheart”

You obey. Mouth wide, tongue out, already gagging as he slides in deep.

Between the two of them, you can barely breathe.

Bellamy’s pace is vicious. Every slap of skin against skin sends pleasure rippling through you. Your body shakes, mouth full of Murphy, cunt full of Bellamy, mind unravelling fast.

“She’s clenching” Bellamy hisses “Fuck, gonna make me cum already”

“Don’t you dare” Murphy says, yanking your head back “Not till we’ve ruined her”

Bellamy pulls out. You whine.

Murphy flips you onto your back, yanking your legs open as Bellamy grabs your throat.

“Colour?” he asks.

“G-green” you pant, drool on your chin, brain fuzzed “Please...don’t stop”

Murphy doesn’t.

He slams into you next, smirking when your eyes roll back and your legs try to close.

“Ah ah” Bellamy growls, pinning your thighs apart while Murphy fucks you deep “Take it”

“I c-can’t-”

“You can” Murphy says, fucking you faster.

Bellamy leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sob from the pleasure, “Cum again for us. Be a good girl now”

You do.

Hard.

So hard your whole body seizes, back arching, pussy fluttering around Murphy’s cock.

And just when you think it’s done, Bellamy replaces him.

You cry out, overstimulated, brain gone, body a mess.

They use you like their personal toy, taking turns, whispering filth, praising you when you’re good, choking you when you whine.

By the time they finally cum, one in your mouth, one deep inside you, you’re shaking, twitching, covered in sweat and spit and cum, eyes glassy and lips bruised.

You collapse between them, limp and used, and for a second, just a second, neither of them is rough.

Murphy strokes your cheek. Bellamy tucks a blanket over your bare skin.

“She’s not gonna be able to walk tomorrow” Murphy says proudly.

“She doesn’t need to” Bellamy mutters, pulling you close, “She’s staying in bed”

You smile, dazed.

Because you won.

You got exactly what you wanted.

-------------------------------------------------------

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[murdocksbitchh]

•☆Sugar On My Tongue☆•

│Bellamy Blake ☆

Ring the Bell, It’s 12 Days of Christmas! Day 1

Bellamy Blake x fem reader

Prompt: Decorating for Christmas (AU)

Synopsis: Thanksgiving has finally passed and you get straight to decoration without waiting for Bellamy to get home. When he comes home he finds the house a mess and you extremely frustrated over some uncooperative decorations. He helps you in more ways than one. 

Warnings: Smut, food play, piv, nsfw, MDNI 18+

Notes: Welcome to the first of 12 days of Christmas with Bellamy!! Im doing this challenge with my best friend @quicksilverbackshots who is doing 12 days of Buckmas (Bucky Barnes) with all the same prompts! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.2k

Dividers: @issysh3ll , @iloveartfilm

Thanksgiving had barely ended. Your fridge was still packed to the brim with leftovers and the sink was littered with various glasses you swore that you would clean yesterday. You knew all of this, yet the cold morning air felt like permission to shift gears.

Christmas gears.

The kind of urge that made your fingers itch for garland and warm string lights was nagging at your mind. So, while the trash from yesterday’s chaos still waited to be taken out, you were already knee-deep in storage bins, pulling your room apart like a woman possessed. 

The living room was overtaken within minutes, plastic tubs stacked like a miniature skyline, lids flipped open and half-emptied, wreaths and ornaments spilling out across the couch. The entry hallway wasn’t much better—boxes piled against the wall in a way that absolutely blocked the front door. You told yourself you’d move them before Bellamy got home.

That thought alone reminded you of the way you’d practically shoved him out of the house an hour ago with a grocery list and a kiss to the cheek, sending him to the store to grab the “few things” you absolutely needed before decorating could officially begin. He’d raised an eyebrow, muttering something about you being impossible, but he’d gone anyway, bundled in his jacket against the crisp post-Thanksgiving cold.

And in the time he’d been gone, you’d somehow managed to create a bigger mess than the one you started with.

But it didn’t matter. Because the bins were open, the music was playing, and you were on a mission.

Christmas was happening today.

You were balancing on the second rung of the step ladder, arms stretched as far as they could go, a stubborn strand of silver tinsel refusing to catch on the tiny hook you’d hammered into the kitchen wall. The tinsel slipped for the fourth time—curling, taunting—and you let out a sharp curse that echoed off the cabinets.

Of course, that was the exact moment you heard the front door open.

“I’m home—” Bellamy’s voice cut off abruptly, and you didn’t need to see him to picture the expression on his face. Something between awe, confusion, and the deep, suffering patience of a man who knew exactly who he was dating.

You cursed again, this time with a pathetic little whine as the string of lights in your other hand slid off the opposite wall. “Come on,” you hissed under your breath, reaching for it again.

Heavy footsteps crossed the living room, then paused in the kitchen doorway. “Alright,” Bellamy said slowly, “what’s going on in here?”

You didn’t even look down. “I had to decorate,” you said, as if it were obvious. “And I thought the tinsel would go up easy but it keeps—ugh!”

Bellamy stepped up behind you, warm hands settling firmly on your waist. “I can see that,” he murmured, already guiding you back and off the ladder.

You let him, melting into the touch even though you were annoyed at everything else. As soon as your feet hit the ground, he dipped down and kissed you, soft and amused. Then, without a word, he turned, grabbed the tinsel from your hand, and hooked it into place with one effortless motion.

You glared at his back like he’d personally offended you.

Annoyed and defeated, you stomped over to the fridge, yanked it open, and pulled out the leftover pumpkin pie and a half-full can of whipped cream. You set the pie on the counter with a thud, stabbed a fork into it far more aggressively than necessary, and sprayed a mountain of whipped cream directly into your mouth on top of the bite.

Bellamy choked on a laugh. “Seriously?”

You shot him a look as you took the bite anyway.

A second later, he was behind you, arms sliding around your torso, chin dipping to your shoulder. His body was warm against your chilled skin. “You know,” he said gently, “you could’ve waited for me.”

You sighed, leaning back into him despite your annoyance. “I thought I could get a head start without you,” you grumbled. “But all I did was make a mess.”

His lips brushed your temple, smiling against your skin, “Well, I’m not disagreeing with that part…”

You groan, releasing yourself from his hold and turning around, your butt leaning against the counter. 

He chuckles at your antics, a small adoring smirk on his face as me moves forward, his arms casing you in against the counter behind you. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” 

You let out a huff and reach for the whipped cream, dispensing a large mountain into your mouth, one that definitely didn’t make it all the way into your mouth. You swallow what you could of the huge portion of the sweet airy substance, the rest catching on the side of your mouth. 

Bellamy smiles and leans impossibly close, swiping his tongue across the side of your mouth, cleaning up any of the excess cream. Warmth pooled in your lower stomach at the action, your annoyance quickly replaced with the feeling of warm desire. 

He watched as your eyes darkened and you swung your arms to hang around his neck, bringing him in for a sweet kiss, your mouths slotting together like connecting puzzle pieces. 

He puts his hands on your hips, forcing your body closer to him with a hum of approval. You deepen the kiss, dipping your tongue into his mouth only for it to quickly be overtaken by his as it explores the expanse of your mouth.

You break from his tongue for just a moment, sucking on his lip with bruising pressure and a bite. He grunts and swiftly picks you up by the tight grip he has on your hips, hoisting you up so that you’re sitting on top of the counter. 

Pulling from his lips, you move to his neck, attacking it with a new sense of need to ravish him, the stress from the decorations quickly leaving your mind. 

His breathing is loud and his grip moves to slide up and down your bare, short clad, thighs. “I thought you were mad, ” the statement came out airy, “about the decorations.”

“I am,” you mumble, taking a break from his neck. Pulling your head back, you look into his eyes, yours clouded with the sudden urge to have him— now. You yank your shirt off from the bottom and pull it over your head quickly, disposing it across the already messy room. “I don’t want to think about the decorations right now.”

Your messaging was clear enough for Bellamy. His eyes shot down to your bare chest, a new drunken expression taking over his features as his tongue darted out, wetting his already swollen lips. 

Wasting no time, Bellamy grunts, his mouth connecting with yours for another bruising kiss, your tongues gliding together, exchanging spit and panting breaths. He breaks apart, only to yank off his own shirt, adding it to the spot where yours resided, moving back to your mouth like it was attracted with magnetic force. 

Your hands roamed the new expanse of skin on his chest, running over his hard stomach, contracting biceps, and shoulders.

By now, the sweetness from the whipped cream had vanished from the kiss and you found yourself missing the intoxicatingly delicious flavour. 

Blindly, your hand reaches for the whipped cream can, your fingers wrapping around the cold aluminum. You bring the bottle up, letting it rest against Bellamy's arm. The sudden chill draws a sharp gasp from his lips, his body tensing momentarily.

He pulls back, confusion flickering in his eyes as he glances at the can. But before he can speak, you squirt more cream directly into your mouth, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

Understanding dawns, and a new darkness sweeps across Bellamy's gaze. He takes the can from your hand, pulling you into another kiss. The cream still lingers on your tongue, mixing between your mouths in a sweet, heated exchange.

With deliberate slowness, he pours more cream into your mouth. But this time, he purposefully misses, letting the white foam spray down your chest, creating a messy trail between your breasts.

"What a mess," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire.

"You should probably clean it up," you challenge, your breath catching.

His eyes lock with yours as he begins to lick, his tongue tracing every droplet until you’re clean. He takes his time, paying exquisite attention to your nipples, leaving marks on your skin that bloom like dark promises. Each touch and suck sends electricity racing through your body.

Swiftly, he pulls off your shorts, dropping them to the floor in a careless heap. Your hands immediately fall to his pants, fingers fumbling with the drawstring before yanking them off with urgent, desperate movements.

Bellamy's hands slide down, freeing his hard erection from his boxers. He pushes the fabric down his thick thighs, stepping out of them with deliberate slowness. The sight makes you moan involuntarily, the sound escaping before you can catch it.

Your breath catches in your throat, a familiar yet always electrifying reaction. Despite the countless times you've seen him like this, your body still responds with an intense, visceral hunger. You gulp, your mouth suddenly dry.

He slots himself up with your entrance, swiping his tip through your wet folds, pulling a gasp from your mouth at the contact. You slide your fingers into his hair, but both of your eyes are watching the spot where your bodies connected. 

Bellamy pushes forward, your wet warmth enveloping his erection and a chorus of moans and gasps fall from your mouths, the newfound pressure making it impossible to keep your voices down. He slid himself all the way in, his balls resting against the soft skin of your ass. 

His head drops to rest on your shoulder, his mouth leaving a wet kiss in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck Bell,” the whine leaves your lips as you wait for him to continue the movement, you needed some friction. 

Slowly, he pulls out, stopping right before completely unsheathing himself before he pushes all the way back in. Guttural moans leave the both of you, the sensation of being filled with him having you see stars as the head of his tip brushes the tissue of your uterus.

Quickly he starts a building rhythm, in and out, fast, but slow enough to have you gasping and pleading for more. He obliges, quickening his pace until the only sounds heard are that of your slapping skin and exclaimed curses.

The bruising pace has you both moaning uncontrollably, broken curses tumbling from your lips in breathless succession. "Fuck—Bell—oh god—" you gasp, while he groans against your skin, his own voice rough and strained. "So fucking tight," he curses, his words punctuated by the relentless snap of his hips.

Your back arches involuntarily, lifting off the counter as the new angle shifts everything. The change is dizzying—suddenly he's hitting deeper, stroking against that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your thighs tremble. A strangled cry tears from your throat, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders.

Bellamy's calloused thumb finds your clit with practiced precision, pressing down before working it in tight, deliberate circles. The added stimulation is overwhelming, pleasure crashing through you in waves so intense you can barely breathe. "Bellamy!" His name rips from your lungs in a scream, echoing off the kitchen walls, raw and desperate.

His thrusts shift from quick to fast to absolutely punishing, each one driving you higher. But then his rhythm begins to falter, becoming erratic and stuttering as he chases his release alongside yours. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his control slipping with every thrust. "I'm—fuck—I'm close," he groans, his voice breaking.

His teeth sink into your shoulder without warning, the sharp bite of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. The sensation pushes you over the edge, your body seizing as your orgasm crashes through you.

You cum together, your walls clenching around him as he buries himself deep, milking himself as he releases inside you. His hips stutter and jerk with each pulse, filling you with warmth as broken moans spill from both your mouths. His thrusts gradually slow, becoming shallow and uncoordinated before finally stopping altogether, his body pressed flush against yours.

A collective sigh leaves you both, completely blissed out from your respective releases. Bellamy comes back to your face, bringing a sweet, lazy kiss to your lips that told you that he loved you, the words not needing to be said with how obvious they were.

“I love you,” the words came from you as the kiss slowed to a stop. He smiles with a warm and loving expression, pressing another quick peck to your lips.

“I love you more.”

The both of you sat there just admiring one another, the sound of the Christmas music becoming audible again in the background. Bellamy moved his eyes to scan around the surrounding room, a smirk sliding onto his face as he flicked his vision back to you and where your bodies were still connected. A chuckle leaves his mouth.

“I don’t know about you, but I think we might have made more of a mess for us to clean up.”

[murdocksbitchh]

⋆ ˚୨Midnight Rendezvous୧˚⋆

│Bellamy Blake ☆

Ring the Bell, It’s 12 Days of Christmas! Day 5

Bellamy Blake x fem reader

Prompt: Cabin in the Woods (AU)

Synopsis: You, Bellamy, Octavia, Clarke, Jasper, Monty, Miller, Raven, Finn, and lexa take a winter trip up to a cabin in the woods. You can’t sleep at night so you go out to take a swim in the hot tub on the patio only to be interrupted by a certain someone.

Warnings: Smut, semi-public, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, nsfw 

Notes: It’s Day 5 of 12 days of Christmas with Bellamy!! I'm doing this challenge with my best friend @quicksilverbackshots who is doing 12 days of Buckmas (Bucky Barnes) with all the same prompts! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.6k

Borders: @uzmacchiato

You toss and turn for what felt like the millionth time, your muscles aching from all the skiing you attempted during the day. All the rest of the group were asleep in their respective bedrooms, Octavia fast asleep in the bed next to you, softly snoring. 

You couldn’t ignore the fact that you couldn’t sleep anymore, your muscles hurt, you were kinda hungry, and you already finished the glass of water on your nightstand, you might as well just get up. 

Reluctantly, you carefully peel the covers from you and quietly remove yourself from the bed, being sure not to disturb your best friend in the bed even though she was the deepest sleeper you knew. 

Getting up, you grab your cup and your fuzzy robe and take a peak out the curtains and into the dark and snowy forest. Your window on the second floor overlooked the back patio which was dusted with a layer of snow. You were surprised to see that the hot tub was on. 

Maybe Jasper and Monty forgot to turn it off when they went outside earlier, they did mention the hot tub earlier, the thought crossed your mind. 

The steaming, bubbling, glowing small body of water looked enticing and deliciously warm, just what you needed to soothe the ache in your muscles. Without a second thought more, you quietly grabbed your bikini from your suitcase and slipped it on, covering it up with your thick robe on top. You slide on your house shoes and head downstairs to the kitchen.

The downstairs is silent, save for the soft buzzing coming from the hot tub on the other side of the sliding glass door that made up the kitchen wall. There was a soft glow cast along the patio and kitchen, and you filled up your glass of water, taking a big gulp as you readied yourself to face the cold air on the way into the hot tub. Quickly, you braced yourself for the noise that the door made as you slid it open, you shut it behind you with a soft click as it pushed into place. 

The cold air that hit you was immediate, you could already feel your nose turning a soft shade of pink, a shiver ran through your body. 

You noted the difference in sound from the kitchen. Outside it was loud, the tree leaves brushed together in the shallow breeze, the creatures of the woods creating a soft symphonic backtrack that mixed with the bubbling hot tub.

Quickly you made your way to the tub, seeing its steaming surface you slid off your robe, hanging it over a chair and kicked off your house shoes as you stepped up the small steps and into the water. You immediately felt the warmth of the water and submerged your now shivering body into the water up to your chin, not even needing time to acclimate slowly. The feeling was amazing and it had you sighing in relief, your muscles feeling like they released a sigh at the same time. 

You waded in the water for a few moments, just relishing in the warmth that surrounded your body. After a little bit, you decided to submerge your head under the water, your nose and cheeks feeling almost ice cold. You dunked your head under the surface for a solid 30 seconds, pressing the heels of your palms to your closed eyes when the warmth of the water was too much on them. Only when your lungs screamed for air did you come up out of the water. You faced the trees and swiped the water from your face and down your hair.

“Can’t sleep either?” 

The sudden voice startled you, your stomach dropping as you whirled around to face its origin, the water around you splashing at the motion. 

You cursed in relief when you saw it was only Bellamy. 

He chuckles “My bad, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You sag  “No, no you’re fine. But yea I couldn’t sleep either I guess.” You take in his appearance, his flushed cheeks, shirtless torso, and swim trunk clad thighs, goosebumps ran along the arms that held a towel. Suddenly you connected the dots. 

“Oh my god. Did you turn this thing on? I thought maybe Monty and Jasper forgot to turn it off.”

He shook his head with a smile, “With Miller snoring so loud across the room, I figured I should get in a little swim. I was surprised to see that someone had beaten me to it while I changed.” 

Your cheeks flushed but you decided that you could blame it on the cold. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to steal your first dip.” You place your hands on your cheeks in slight embarrassment, “But I have no qualms with sharing, after all the tub is definitely big enough for the both of us. You are still welcome.” 

“How gracious of you,” he says with a laugh as he sets down his towel and climbs in, cursing at the temperature change. Once he’s fully in the water, he brings handfuls of water to wet his face. 

Silence falls between the two of you and you start to think.

The two of you had never really been alone like this. You’d always had a bit of a crush on him, but being Octavia’s best friend, you always just thought he thought of you as such, his little sisters best friend. 

You’d mentioned to Octavia once that you thought her brother was cute, and you vowed it to be the last time because she wouldn’t let it go for three weeks straight, always talking about how you needed to get together, but you knew he’d never want you like that. 

Sure you guys had fun times together with the entire group, but never alone. There were times where you caught him looking at you or smiling a little too much at a joke you made but that could all be coincidence, after all, you could have caught him in eye contact all those times just because of the sheer amount of time you spent looking at him. 

After a few quiet moments he speaks up, a smile poking at his lips “I can’t believe you just thought someone happened to leave the hot tub on for you,” he chuckles and you groan.

“Oh shut up, you know damn well Jasper could’ve forgotten to turn it off.” 

He has a smirk on his face, “Come on. They’ve practically been passed out since we got back from the slopes.” 

With a groan you splash a little water at him, “Whatever, make fun of me in my sore and sleep deprived state,” you say with a palm facing him in faux annoyance. 

“Cute,” he says, and you swallow. He doesn’t usually say things like that. 

“You find my struggle cute?” You say with an eyebrow raised, he just smirks and looks away, his tongue running over his top teeth under his lips and he splashes you a little bit, the warm water getting in your face. 

You gasp, “Oh so you wanna play that right now?” 

He looks back at you to see you’ve moved a little closer to him, he smiles and puts his hands up in surrender, “Hey, no let’s be nice, I’m sorry.” 

You laugh at his sad attempt to get out of being splashed, “No you’re not getting out of this Bellamy.” 

You move forward and splash him once, but when you try to do it again he surges forwards and grabs hold of your wrists, his grip strong, pulling you just a little closer to him, your faces inches apart. You let out a squeak and your lips part in surprise

“Hey, let's be nice, ok. We’re even.” His voice is quiet and breathy and you take in the droplets of water that glistened on his face, his long eyelashes clumping together in unfairly beautiful spikes.

“Whatever you say boss,” you manage to breathe out with a light chuckle. When he fails to release his grip on your wrists after a few moments, you speak up again “Bellamy, you can let me go now.”

“Can I?” He says, a light smirk slowly makes its way onto his face, you swallow visibly and he lowers your hands back into the water, releasing them with a lingering touch. 

Your hands float limply to your sides and you are the first to look away. You turn away from him swimming to the side of the tub that overlooks the trees facing away from the house. 

It’s silent for a few beats.

“…Did I do something?” He asks unsure and you blink, surprised and turn to face him. He looked kind of concerned. 

“What? No. Why would you think that?” 

He gives a tight, quiet shrug. “You swam away from me.”

Your breath snags. You weren’t expecting him to notice. You certainly weren’t expecting him to bring it up. “I just… needed a second.” 

He nods slowly, jaw working like he’s trying to decide if he should keep talking. “If us being alone out here makes you uncomfortable, I can go.” 

Your head whips toward him. “No. That’s not it. It’s not that.”

He looks up sharply at the tone of your voice. His eyes search yours— careful, unreadable, a little too intense. “Then what is it?” He asks. 

“Stop doing that.” You say and his head moves back just a little bit in confusion. 

“Stop doing what?” 

You suck your teeth, feeling your cheeks and ears grow warmer, “Stop looking at me like that.” 

His brows draw in confusion “Like what?” 

“Bellamy… come on. Don’t— don’t play dumb.” 

He moves an inch closer. “No, really. Tell me. How am I looking at you?” He takes another step closer, you shrink back a little bit, the tension rising and your confidence fading slightly. “Like you’re funny? Annoying?” he pauses and licks his lips, “Or like you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”

Your breath hitches further “Oh stop. You don’t—you don’t mean that. You’re just messing with me.”

You look around, anywhere but at him, trying to see if he's playing some sick joke. 

He leads your face back to his with a hand on your chin, “I’m dead serious right now.”

You shake your head, eyes dropping. “Bellamy… I’m just your sister’s best friend. That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

A soft scoff leaves him— hurt and frustrated. “You know that's not all you are. Not to me. You haven’t been for a long time.” 

You freeze. “I–I don’t– You’re being serious?” 

The words leave your mouth in near gasps, and as an answer, he just moves even closer, until the tips of your noses are touching, you feel his warm breath fanning over your lips, a welcoming contrast to the biting cold of the night air.  You search his face frantically, looking for any sign of a joke. A trap. A misunderstanding. 

You find none. 

He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to back away. You don’t. His nose brushes yours— barely— and you gasp. 

Then his mouth finds yours. It’s soft at first. Testing. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he pushes too fast. You freeze for half a second— shocked— but then your hand slips up his shoulder, and you kiss him back. 

He exhales against your lips, relieved and wrecked all at once. His forehead rests against yours.

“Does that answer your question? I like you.” You are at a loss for words, so he keeps doing the talking for you. A rough whisper meets your ears, “I feel like I shouldn’t want you.” Another soft kiss. “…but I do.”

You barely have time to breathe before he goes back in, deeper this time, hands finding your waist under the water. 

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing yours. “Tell me to stop.” 

You don’t. 

You can’t. 

He kisses your lips with fervor, like he's tasted something and can't help himself now that he has. His lips are soft and wet and deliciously sweet, you miss them when he separates to kiss along your jaw. 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, and still you don’t. 

He kisses down your neck, licking and sucking on the tender skin while his hands travel down your waist, settling on your hips as his fingers skim over the strings of your bikini bottoms. Your fingers thread themselves through his hair and you feel his strong hands grasp onto your ass with a squeeze. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says, mouth breaking apart from your neck as his fingertips breach the surface of the small piece of cloth covering your lower half. 

You pull his head up by his hair, a small groan coming from his lips as he looks you in your eyes, question and want swim through his brown orbs. 

“Bell…” you whisper with conviction, “I don’t want you to stop.” 

His eyes bore into yours for a moment, relief and desire clear in them. Only a second passed before your mouths met in a bruising kiss, like you had both been waiting years for this very moment. 

His hands reached for your ass, running them down your thighs and hoisting you up so your hips met and your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. He stood up fully and you felt the chill of the night air on your back, goosebumps spreading over your entire torso. 

Bellamy walked over to the side of the tub with you pressed against him until you felt your back hit the wall of the tub, your ass sliding into a seat on the underwater bench. He didn't break the kiss once, your neck now tilted up to meet his lips as he stood.

After a few moments of the heated kiss, you felt his hand leave your thigh and travel back up to your waist, slowly moving up to your breast, only then does his mouth leave yours. 

“Is this ok? He asks tentatively as his head falls to kiss the soft tissue of your breast that's not covered by your bathing suit. 

You shudder a breath with a nod and he lowers himself to his knees, his head and upper torso still sticking out of the water. You feel his hands move again, this time to grasp onto the strings of your bikini bottoms, giving them a little tug. 

“How about this?” he breathes. 

You gulp, “That’s more than ok, Bell.”  He pulls both ties loose at the same time, letting the piece of fabric float away from where it clung to your body. Fingers ghost over the crevice where your thighs meet your pelvis and goosebumps spread over your chest, this time not because of the cold air. 

Bellamy notices the goosebumps on your chest and scoots impossibly forward on his knees to swipe his tongue over them, leaving a kiss on your skin as he stops. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes and your cheeks heat up, you were still clothed from what he could see above the water, “so beautiful.”

You gasp as his thumb presses against your clit tentatively, your mouth opening at the sudden feeling. He presses kisses to your chest and collarbone, his thumb slowly starting to circle the small bundle of nerves between your legs, the sensation leaving you breathing heavily. 

Your hands travel back into his hair, fingers intertwining with the strands and he lifts his head back up to meet your lips once again in a sweet but heated kiss. 

When you feel one of his thick fingers nudge at your entrance, your mouth opens slightly and he takes the moment to slide it in, you relish in the feeling, enjoying the small stretch it gives you.

He starts a slow rhythm pulling them in and out as you try your hardest to continue kissing him. He adds another finger and you moan out loud. He shuts you up with a kiss on the lips.

“Shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss on your cheek as he whispers in your ear, “We don't want to wake the others.” 

You had forgotten that any people other than the two of you existed in the world, too caught up in the unforgettable moment, you nod your head with a small strangled hum of agreement. 

“Good,” he practically growls.

The task seemed hard to complete, with the way his fingers moved in and out of your pussy, curling inward when his knuckles reached your entrance, it made it very hard to keep quiet. Breathy moans left you as he sped up his pace and you spread your legs a little farther apart, it seemed to allow him to get even deeper, hitting the soft tissue deep in your pussy. 

He adds a third finger and you try not to cry out at the stretch, your hands pulling his face back to yours so he could swallow the noise. His pace gets faster and you feel the quickly tightening feeling growing in your lower stomach. It only takes a few more strokes for the feeling to crest over, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, Bellamy swallows all of your sounds with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you swore, the pleasure subsiding when your lips broke apart and he pulled his fingers from inside you, looking into your eyes with something that you’d never seen occupying them. His eyes were so dark you would have thought they were black had not already spent so much time looking at them to know they were brown. 

Your hands moved from his hair and traveled down his biceps, to his chest, and down his abs, really feeling him up for the first time. 

His hard muscles contracted under your touch in the water and his breath hitched as your fingertips slipped under the fabric of his shorts. You pull him forward, his hips meeting yours and you feel his large clothed erection against your core. 

Looking into his eyes, you slowly pull his shorts down to his thighs, “I want you Bellamy,” his adams apple visibly bobbed at your words, his eyes practically rolling back at your next words, “Right now.”

With little effort, he immediately pushed his shorts down the rest of the way, bringing his lips back to yours. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that,” he rasps and a small disbelieving moan leaves your lips. 

Some part of you still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but the nudging of the tip of his cock on your entrance felt all too real to be a dream. 

He didn’t push in immediately, instead he waited, looking into your eyes, “Are you sure?” he asked.

You press a sweet kiss to his lips, breaking away, you whisper with conviction “Bellamy. I need you, right now.” 

That was all the confirmation he needed, seconds later he was pushing his length past the entrance of your core, slowly sliding in, inch by inch. 

You both curse out loud, forgetting momentarily that you are supposed to be quiet. By the time he bottoms out, his balls pressed against the soft skin of your ass, you are both gasping for air, the sensation blinding with pleasure. 

“Shit” he rasps, “So fucking tight.” You mewl at his words, hands grasping onto his biceps as you adjust to his size. 

“Are you ok?” he asks, taking in your closed eyes and agape mouth. 

You open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze and you nod, “I–I’m ok, you can start moving now.” He pecks your lips and slowly pulls all the way back out, stopping when the tip threatens to pop out completely, before he slowly slid himself all the way back in, sheathing himself completely in your warmth. You stifle a moan in the crook of his neck and he plants his face in yours. 

“You’re perfect,” he groans, “like you were made for me.”

“Fuck, Bell,” you moan quietly at his words. He continues moving, creating a painfully slow pace, and now that you had adjusted to the size of his cock, you found yourself wanting more. 

“Faster.” 

He listened to your command immediately, speeding up his pace and you felt that familiar ball of tension form in the base of your stomach. He was hitting so deep within you, deeper than you had ever felt, deeper than you ever thought was possible. 

He grunted as he sped up his pace even more, mumbling filthy words into your ears. You stifled your growing moans with your mouth against his bare shoulder, your teeth sure to leave a mark.

His tempo increases, quickly going from fast and controlled, to sloppy and stuttering.

“Fuck–Shit–I–cant hold on much longer.” He rasps and you feel the tightening cord of tension and pleasure begin to snap within you. 

“Bell— I’m gonna cu–fuck,” you hiss, the breath leaving you as you found your release once again, the wave pleasure washing over you. 

Bellamy’s strokes start to stutter to a stop as he too finds his release, pumping himself a few more times inside of you to milk him with the contractions of your orgasm. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, his forehead coming to rest against your own. You pull him in for yet another kiss, this one is sweet and slow, portraying words you haven't yet said. He kisses back just as sweet. When you break apart you kiss him on the cheek and pull back with a timid smile on your face. 

“If it wasn't already clear, I really like you too.”

What the hell were you going to tell Octavia!?

[bigandlong]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[jae-felidae]

Oh hey! Haven’t seen this in forever! Didn’t reblog it when it came across me before, not gonna skip it this time, I need some good vibes.

[tilthat]

TIL “Yankee Doodle” was written by the British to mock americans. “Doodle” is thought to come from the German “dödel”, meaning “fool” or “simpleton” and “macaroni,” a flamboyantly stylish type of dress, painting the Yankees as morons who thought placing a feather in one’s cap made them a “dandy.”

via reddit.com

[toastpotent-deactivated20250619]

so you’re telling me that “stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni” would be like saying “wrote a G on his belt and called it gucci”

[beggars-opera]

that’s…a pretty good analogy actually

[ti-bae-rius]

US moron came to town

Hunting for some coochie

Wrote a G up on his belt

And this bitch called it Gucci

[ti-bae-rius]

Seeing my notifications get flooded with this every July 4th is the only thing I respect about America

[parasocialites]

how did a woman manage to date elvira for 19 years and not tell every single person she knows

[onetine]

[flowersforbucky]

fooled around and fell in love

bob reynolds x reader

word count: 5.7k

summary: you've never been one for commitment, and your teammates know it. when you and bob start seeing each other, it takes them by surprise and makes them worry about how he'll react to the heartbreak that they expect to follow. what they don't understand - you've never felt like this about anyone.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, minor angst, fingering, fluff, secret relationship trope, platonic bucky x reader, platonic yelena x reader, mentions of bob's sobriety and mental health, reader is afab, no use of y/n

author's note: thank you so much @voidsxntry for this request ♡ i'm sorry if it's not exactly what you were hoping for, it kind of got away from me and this is what my brain ended up creating 😅

“Is it bad that I don't want you to go?”

The tip of your index finger traces the defined planes of his chest. Your head rests just over his heart, and you'd love nothing more than to drift to sleep to the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arms are wrapped around your frame, keeping your body glued to his.

You don't know how you got lucky enough to end up here. But you do know there's no where else you'd rather be right now.

Unfortunately, duty calls.

“No,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his sternum. “Is it bad that I don't want to go?”

He hums in contentment, ghosting his fingers down the skin of your ribcage. “No. Sounds like maybe you should stay.”

As soon as the word stay leaves his lips, your alarm begins to blare from your phone on his nightstand. Reluctantly, you pull away from him with a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine to silence the incessant ringing.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, throwing a leg across his body to straddle him once you’ve tossed the phone onto his bed. “Val would have my head if I sat this mission out.”

He sits up, his bare chest pressing against yours. His hands rest on either side of your hips, keeping you in place. He looks up at you with a smirk.

“I'm confident that you could handle Valentina. You’re stronger, and faster, and a more skilled fighter…” He trails off, planting kisses along your jawline.

You laugh. You adore this side of him – goofy, carefree, clingy, touchy. It’s a side of him that you couldn’t have imagined just a month ago. You knew that you liked him – a lot. Knew that he was caring, and sweet, and considerate. But this side of him – the side that only you get to see – surpasses your wildest dreams.

“I don’t disagree,” you chuckle. “But now isn’t the time to put that theory to the test.” You force yourself to crawl off of him, standing up to put your clothes back on. As much as you hate to leave him here, you and your other teammates have to catch a flight to Nevada.

Your other teammates who just so happen to be oblivious to all of the intimate time that you and Bob have been spending together the last few weeks.

It’s not that you don’t want anyone to know. There’s a huge part of you that wants to kiss him in front of everyone and scream it from the rooftop of the Watchtower that he’s yours. It’s a feeling that you can honestly say that you’ve never experienced before – the desire to show someone off, yes, but also the desire to simply call someone yours.

But right now, you and him exist in your own perfect little bubble. And as soon as everyone knows, you’re subject to their opinions.

You can hear Alexei’s raunchy teasing and Walker’s snide comments about your public displays of affection.

You can hear Valentina lecturing you about the potential turmoil that would inevitably ensue if you two were to have a messy breakup.

But mostly, you can clearly picture the look of doubt and confusion on Bucky’s face. You’ve known him longer than you've known any of the others, and he knows you well enough to know that, historically speaking, you don’t really do relationships.

At all. Ever. Until now.

You lean down to give him one last kiss before you have to leave. Cupping his face in your hands, you bring his lips to yours. He kisses you as desperately as he had when you'd joined him in his bed an hour ago, and you instantly feel warmth pool in your lower belly. As if the thought of being away from him for three days wasn’t awful enough, now all you want is to rip your clothes back off and crawl into this bed with him again.

“I’ll text you as soon as we land in Nevada,” you promise as you begin to pull away from him.

“Wait,” he stops you, pulling you back to him. “When you get back home, I want to take you out. Like uh – like a real date. If you'd like, that is.”

“Of course,” you answer automatically, your cheeks warning and a giant grin growing on your face. He instantly looks relieved, as if there was even a chance that you'd say no to him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

After a dozen or so more kisses, you say goodbye and reluctantly leave his room. When you close his door behind you, you're still smiling from ear to ear.

You walk directly across the hallway to grab your duffel bag from your bedroom, but when you start to turn your doorknob, you freeze. You could have sworn that you heard some sort of movement down the hallway. You look around, not seeing or hearing anything else.

You shrug, relieved that no one saw you coming out of Bob’s room with a huge smile on your face. Explaining that isn't something you really want to do right before a three day mission.

It also isn't something that you want to continue being secretive about either, though.

When you get home, you decide. After your date. That's when you'll tell everyone that you're together.

••••••

A few hours into the six hour flight to Reno, Nevada, everyone has settled into their respective places on the New Avenger’s jet.

Yelena decided to take the pilot’s seat this time, Walker and Ava are cleaning their guns, Alexei is snoring from his cot, and Bucky is… being especially moody and brooding today.

You’re attempting to keep your thoughts from continuously veering back to a certain someone in New York by shoving your nose into a book, when the aforementioned super soldier takes a seat beside you in your quiet corner of the jet.

Noting his rigid posture and clenched jaw from the corner of your eye, you close your book and turn your attention to him. “Christ, Buck. It’s just a simple re-con mission. What’s got you so tense?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” he whispers, avoiding your eye. “Just trying to mentally prepare for all of New York to be swallowed into a giant black cloud of interconnected shame rooms for the second time this year when you decide you’re bored with Bob.”

You freeze in place, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone had heard him. Only after accepting that no one is paying any attention to the two of you do you risk responding to him.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Barnes?”

“Don’t Barnes me,” he snips in a hushed tone. “I saw you leaving his bedroom with that giddy look on your face this morning. What the hell are you thinking?”

Realization dawns on you. You hadn’t just been imagining what you heard in the hallway after leaving Bob’s room. Of course it had been one of the ridiculously stealthy former assassins that you live with. It's honestly a miracle that no one else had caught on before now.

“Okay, and? I was in his room. What about it?”

Bucky rakes his flesh hand down his face in exasperation. “He likes you. Really likes you. Everyone can see that. And his mental state is still fragile. How do you think he's going to react when things fizzle out on your end?”

You scoff, starting to see red. It takes a lot of effort to keep your voice level enough to not draw any attention to yourself. “I’m fully aware of his mental state, Bucky. I’m the one who has been spending a lot of very intimate time with him the last few weeks. And who are you to say that anything is going to fizzle? You don’t know our relationship.”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “No, but I know you. And things always fizzle for you. The difference is that this time, it could effect a lot of people.”

You bite your tongue. You had anticipated some level of apprehension from Bucky about the revelation of you and Bob being a couple, but you didn’t expect him to be so vocal and harsh right before a fucking mission.

So much for telling everyone once you’re all back at the Watchtower.

“You’re thinking of the worst case scenario when you don’t need to. I get it, Bucky. He’s fragile. But I’m not going to break him. I’m going to take care of him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It’s not something that could fizzle even if I wanted it to.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else before you storm off to the bathroom towards the back of the jet. You hear Ava mumble “what’s her deal?” but you close the bathroom door behind you before you hear any kind response.

Even if it is just re-con, this is the last thing you need right before any kind of assignment. You pull your phone from your back pocket. Without thinking, you open your camera roll and scroll to the pictures that you and Bob had taken a few days ago – your first pictures together.

They’re just selfies – taken in your bed, with sleepy smiles on your faces. In one, he spoons you from behind and peeks over your shoulder at the camera. In other, you’re holding the camera above your faces and kissing him on the cheek. You’re both undressed, but your comforter is pulled over your chest enough for it to be deemed appropriate. Now that Bucky knows, and soon everyone else will, too, you select the image of you kissing him to be your lockscreen, no longer caring if someone sees it.

You smile down at the picture on the screen, reminding yourself that this is what really matters. No matter what Bucky thinks, or what the others will say when they find out.. you’re happy. And Bob is happy. At the end of the day, that’s what is most important to you.

••••••

“I’m sorry that you're missing the party because of me.”

There’s no one else around. Everyone is downstairs – mingling, dancing, and taking advantage of the full bar at the gala’s after party.

You'd seen him from across the dance floor. He was sitting at a table by himself, nervously looking around the room and sipping on some kind of fruity “mocktail” that Yelena had given him.

So clearly out of his element. You were, too.

“Wanna get out of here?” You’d asked, standing in front of him. He looked up at you like he could kiss you right then and there.

“Come with me.” You gesture towards the closest exit. “Let’s go somewhere a little less… obnoxious.”

So the two of you snuck up to the roof – but not before you grabbed an entire tray of various hors d’oeuvres for the two of you to share. You halfway expect someone to come barging through the stairwell door at any point, demanding for you both to return to the event.

You’re willing to risk it, though. For some fresh air and a break from socializing with people you’d likely never see again after tonight. For a few minutes alone with him – to have him so close that you could count his individual eyelashes and smell hints of bergamot from his aftershave.

Maybe it’s the martini that you’d downed half an hour prior, but something gives you the courage to reach out and grab his tie. You massage the silky material with your thumb for a second before gently pulling him closer to you.

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur. “I don’t think I’m missing anything.”

The pounding of a fist against the door jerks you out of your REM cycle and back to the outdated motel room with no functioning AC.

“Time to wake up!” Alexei’s voice booms from the other side of the door. “Do not make me come pour cold water on you.”

“That would feel fucking great, actually,” you call back, noting the way that your tank top sticks to your chest like a second skin due to how much you had sweat in your sleep.

Part of you wishes you could close your eyes and slip back into the memory that ended up being your and Bob's first kiss, but you also desperately want to get out of this roach infested motel and finish the last full day of this assignment so that you can get back home to him.

You grab your phone off of the nightstand, smiling at the picture of you and Bob. You have the fleeting thought to call him, just so you can hear his voice for a few minutes. It would give you the motivation that you need to get through this final day in Nevada.

But with the three hour time difference between Nevada and New York, you know that he’s most likely still fast asleep, so you settle for sending him a text message.

Between waking up to your face, or to Alexei banging on my motel door, I greatly prefer your face. I can’t wait to see you asap. I miss you a lot.

As soon as you set your phone down, it starts vibrating, displaying Bob’s face across the screen. You answer before the second ring.

“It’s five in the morning in New York. Why are you awake before the sun?”

His laughter pours through your phone’s speaker, and you feel your heart swell. It has quickly become your favorite sound.

“Couldn’t sleep. Been awake thinking about you.”

You picture him in his bed. He always sleeps without a shirt, in either loose sweatpants or only his boxers. You bite your lip at the mental image.

“What about me?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you whisper – you have a room to yourself for once. But you never know when super soldiers with heightened senses are listening through paper thin motel walls.

“How much I wish you were here with me right now,” he hums. His voice is raspy with sleep, and you feel goosebumps appear on your skin despite the balmy air of the motel room. “How warm you are, how good you smell, how soft you are…”

A dozen particularly graphic images pop into your head, and a familiar ache pulses between your thighs.

“That's not fair,” you whine.

“What's not fair, baby?” The name makes your heart skip a beat – you immediately want to hear it fall from his lips again.

“That,” you groan. “You being so sweet when you’re over two thousand miles away from me.”

There’s another knock on your door. Right away, you know it isn’t Alexei this time, since it doesn’t sound like an attempted break in. Ava’s voice calls from the other side, asking if you're ready.

“One minute!” You call back. “I’ve gotta go,” you say in a quieter voice to Bob. “You get some sleep, okay? I'll be home as soon as I can.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe. I have a date planned for when you get back.”

That thought gives you all the motivation you need to get through the next twenty-four hours.

••••••

Since your arrival in Reno, Bucky has yet to speak to you unless it pertains directly to the mission at hand.

You had decided that it’s best to wait until you’re back at the Watchtower to talk to Bob about the conversation that transpired on the flight to Nevada – he already worries so much when you’re all away on missions, and you don’t want to add to his anxiety.

Everyone else is acting like their normal selves, so you assume it’s safe to say that Bucky has told them nothing of your and his conversation, either. It isn’t until you’re paired up with Yelena to be lookouts on the last day of the assignment, that you notice a shift in her energy once the two of you are alone.

She’s quiet. Distant. Awkward, almost.

You consider the two of you to be quite close. You haven’t known each other for a super long time, but conversation has always flowed effortlessly between you.

So this prolonged silence is… telling, to say the least.

“Spill it, Yelena. I know Bucky has said something to you by now.” You finally break the silence, putting your binoculars back up to your eyes and focusing on the entrance to the warehouse you're staking out.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Let me start by saying that I love you both, and want happiness for you both.”

“But?” You ask, knowing there’s more to come. And something in your gut tells you that it isn’t all going to be quite as positive as her opening remark. You’re suddenly thankful for the task of keeping watch on the warehouse, so you’re not obligated to look her in the eyes.

“But,” she continues, “I would be lying if I said that I do not share some of Bucky's concerns.”

“Jesus Christ,” you curse under your breath. Though you’re not surprised, you don’t exactly want a reenactment of Bucky’s reaction.

“Let me explain,” she implores in an even tone. You go silent, waiting for her to continue.

“You and I are… alike, in many ways. We didn’t have the most traditional upbringings, and therefore didn’t have opportunities to form a healthy view of love or relationships. I would never judge you for having a history of commitment issues, because so do I.”

You’re taken by surprise at her response. You lower the binoculars from your face to look at her. She's still looking through her own pair, eyes on the warehouse and oblivious to your stare.

“But sometimes people, especially people like us… we hurt people even without meaning to. As for Bob, I would worry about him falling for anyone at this point in his recovery. He has not been sober for all that long, and he still cannot control his powers. If he were to get his heart broken, it could be... catastrophic.”

You contemplate her words before responding. Logically, you see where she’s coming from. Bucky, too. You don’t disagree that something such as heartbreak could significantly reset Bob’s progress, potentially risking a relapse or even a second incident with The Void. You're rational enough to know that their concerns aren’t completely unjustified.

But you also know how you feel about him.

You know the butterflies that erupt in your belly every time he walks in a room, you know that you could spend hours just staring at him, you know that you feel more protective of him than you ever have another human being.

“I understand your concerns, Yelena. I do. But if you’re worried about me breaking his heart, don’t be. Bucky isn’t wrong – I do have a history of commitment issues. But I’ve never found someone that I’ve wanted to commit to until I met Bob.”

She lowers her binoculars, looking at you curiously. “That serious, huh?”

You snort. “I mean, we’re going on our first official date after this mission, but…” you shake your head, still unable to fully grasp the words you’re about to say. For the longest time, you thought you might never say them about anyone.

“But I’m kind of in love with him.”

There’s a brief flicker of shock on her face, but she quickly composes herself. After a second, her lips slowly upturn into a grin and you can’t help but feel a sense of relief.

“Then let’s finish up here so we can get you home for a date.”

••••••

You didn’t think it was possible to be so happy to be back in Manhattan.

Though it isn’t the busy city that you’d longed for the entirety of the three days you were gone. It was the soft-spoken, kind of awkward but really sweet, blue-eyed guy with secret washboard abs who is waiting to greet you in your room the second that you walk through the door.

You throw your duffel bag on the floor, practically slamming your door shut behind you. He’s sitting on your bed with open arms that you happily fall into. Neither of you say anything right away. You sit in his lap, nuzzling your face into his neck as he wraps his arms around you and holds you to him.

Every bit of stress from the last few days completely melts away, even for just a few moments.

“Is everything okay?” He asks you tentatively, rubbing your back with one hand.

You pull back enough to look him in the eyes. You cradle his jaw in your hand before pressing your lips to his. “It is now,” you murmur. “I missed you bunches.”

He captures your lips in his again; this kiss less gentle than the first. His hands roam up your sides, and yours find their way to the soft brown locks of his hair. Your lips move in synchronicity with his as you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. He’s in only a pair of sweatpants and a Henley, but you’re still covered in tactical gear.

The same tactical gear you’d been wearing beneath the blazing Nevada sun.

“I – uh,” you stutter when you break the kiss. “I really need to shower. Would you like to join me?”

A vibrant shade of pink colors his cheeks as he nods rather enthusiastically.

So fucking adorable.

You’ve never been more grateful to have a private bathroom. You turn the water on, letting steam fill the room as Bob unzips the back of your tactical suit for you. He gently pushes it pushes the restrictive fabric down your shoulders, letting you take over once it’s around your hips. He continues to stand behind you, peppering kisses along your shoulder blades while you undress. Once you’re completely bare, you turn to face him.

He's still in his lounge wear, so you take it upon yourself to help him out. You tug the hem of his Henley upwards, urging it over his head. He quickly drops his sweatpants and boxers, stepping out of them before opening the shower door for you.

Your first time showering together. Like all of your firsts together, there’s something special about it. It’s not your first time ever showering with a man – but it’s the first time that you’ve wanted to slow down and take the time to truly savor it.

This is the first time it’s ever felt so intimate. It isn’t solely driven on the desire to see each other naked (maybe there is a little bit of that, too) but more so the desire to care for each other.

Standing beneath the stream of warm water, you reach around him to grab a bottle of shampoo. You squeeze some onto your palm and then emulsify it with your hands.

“Turn around for me?” You ask, and he eagerly obliges.

Your eyes trail over the defined muscles of his back before you begin working the lather into his hair. You take your time, massaging his scalp with your fingertips until his hair is covered in suds. He melts beneath your touch, propping his forearms against the shower wall for support. You’re all too aware of the little moans that slip from his throat every so often – pretty noises that you’re honored to bring out of him.

When you’re finished, you plant a series of kisses on his shoulder. He turns around wearing a smirk that matches your own.

“Now it's your turn to turn around for me,” he says, his low voice sending a shiver down your spine. You turn around, letting the stream of water hit your chest. When he takes a small step forward to grab your body wash, you feel the head of his erection graze your lower back. You instinctively arch your back, earning a throaty groan from him.

As soon as he squirts a decent amount of the body wash into one of his hands, he places his empty hand against your belly and nudges you backwards, flush against his him. You tilt your head back enough to look up at him, lightly nipping at his jawline. With one hand, he begins massaging the sweet smelling cream across your abdomen. With the other, he palms at your breast, rolling a pebbled nipple between his fingers.

He takes his time rubbing the soap across your skin. First your stomach, then chest, and arms and back. He rinses the remaining lather off of his hands before parting your thighs ever so slightly; just enough so that his fingers can find the pearl at the apex of your folds. As his fingers rub languid circles over your clit, you rut back against him. He curses under his breath with an involuntarily jerk of his hips.

“Missed you so much,” he murmurs against the skin of your throat. Your only response is a pathetic whimper as he eases his middle finger inside of you. “Every second that you were gone.”

Your walls pulse around the slender digit at his words. You've never been so weak for a man – so completely gone that he can make you damn near come apart with just his words.

He eases the finger in and back out at a torturous pace before adding a second. His hand cups your sex; his palm applying perfect pressure to your clit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, light-headed from both the pleasure and heat from the shower. “I'm close—”

“I’ve got you,” he coos as he supports you from behind. “Got you, baby.”

You nearly go slack against him as his fingers work you through your orgasm. Your mind goes entirely blank except for the feeling of him, both in you and pressed against you.

When you come down, you're afraid to move because your legs feel like they've been turned to jelly.

“As much as I hate to stop here,” he sighs with a laugh, “We need to finish up and get dressed or we are going to be late for our date.”

How could you forget? You'd been so excited just to see him, and hug him, and kiss him that your first real, official date had somehow slipped your mind.

It also hits you that you still have no idea what said date is. When you talked to him on the phone in Reno, he said he had something planned, but didn't elaborate.

“Where are we going?”

••••••

Bob wouldn’t give you so much as a hint as to where he’s taking you.

When you'd insisted that you need some kind of vague idea so that you’d know how to dress, he had replied with something along the lines of uh – um – something comfortable? Everything you wear is cute. Wear whatever you want to. It’s a little windy out, maybe a sweater?

So, that really narrows things down.

After throwing his sweatpants and Henley back on after getting out of the shower, he went back to his own bedroom to change clothes and give you time to get ready.

You don’t recall the last time you felt so giddy about a first date. Normally, you approached them with caution and the knowledge that there likely wouldn’t be a second. They’d always felt like a waste of time, more than anything else.

But this feels completely different. A first date when you’ve already fallen head over heels for the person? Completely new to you.

You decide on a pair of black leggings, boots, and a sweater – an outfit suitable for an indoor or outdoor date. Cute enough, and comfortable.

Once Bob comes back to your room a few minutes later wearing a casual pair of jeans, Vans, and a pullover sweater of his own, you feel more confident in your choice.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums as he closes your bedroom door behind him. He rests his hands on your hips, pressing his lips to your forehead. You can’t help but inhale the scent of his freshly spritzed cologne. “Still – still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Better start believing it,” you giggle. “Because it’s true.”

“So – um,” he hesitates. You look up at him, noticing his slightly furrowed brows and pursed lips. “I think everyone’s in the common area right now… Do you want to go down to the lobby first, or...?”

You’d been delaying this conversation since you’d stepped foot in the Watchtower. You were so happy to see him, and he was so happy to see you, that you couldn’t yet bring yourself to burst that blissful bubble.

But you don’t want to try to keep this low-key anymore, because your feelings aren’t low-key. So, regardless of anyone’s opinion on it, you want to walk out of this room with his hand in yours.

“About that…” you start with an awkward laugh. “They know. Well, Yelena and Bucky do, anyway. I’m assuming the others do too by now.”

“They know?” He repeats, confusion visible on his face. “Since when?”

“Since Bucky saw me leaving your bedroom the morning we left for Reno.” You say with nonchalant shrug. “He confronted me about it on the flight there, and eventually told Yelena…”

“Confronted you?” Bob echoes, his voice rising an octave. “Wha – what did he say? What did Yelena say?”

Now it’s you with pursed lips. You jerk your head towards your bed behind you. “Let’s sit down for a minute.” Then, noticing the panicked look on his face, you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Just a minute, I promise. I won’t let us be late for this mystery date you have planned.”

He nods, apprehensive, but follows you to sit by you on the edge of your bed.

As concisely and delicately as you can, you recount your conversations with both Bucky and Yelena. In your own words, you explain both of their concerns. You make sure to not invalidate their worries, while also making sure Bob knows that you don’t share those some worries. He listens with a neutral expression, waiting until you come to a pause to say anything.

“So,” he starts, fiddling with his hands – a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous. “Yelena is okay with it – with us. And Bucky…?”

You grab one of his hands in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks but us. But Bucky will come around. I promise. He'll quickly see that he has nothing to worry about. Okay?”

He nods, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing them to your skin. “Okay,” he agrees with a hesitant smile.

“Now let’s get out of here and go to… where are you taking me again?” you quip.

“Nice try,” he tuts with a more genuine smile. “You’ll see when we get there.”

With intertwined fingers, the two of you make your way down the corridor, to the elevator. You pause when you reach the entrance of the common area. Everyone stops what they’re doing, looking towards you and Bob in the doorway. Bucky stands in the kitchen, while everyone else is scattered about the living room.

Your eyes dart around the room. Yelena, Ava and Alexei all possess knowing smirks. Walker’s face is pure confusion – apparently he’s the only one who hadn’t been filled in – and Bucky's face remains emotionless.

You give Bob’s hand another squeeze. “We’re going out,” you announce casually. “We’ll be back in a few hours.” Just as you start to turn around, Bucky’s voice calls your name. You stop, looking at him with raised brows.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

You hesitate, until you see Yelena give you a small, reassuring nod.

“I’ll be just a moment. Okay?” You murmur to Bob. He suddenly looks queasy, so you encourage him to go sit with Yelena for the time being.

“I guess I am the last one to find out about this, then?” You hear Walker grumble as you walk over to where Bucky is chopping some vegetables at the kitchen counter.

“Yes?” you ask lowly, just wanting to get this over with.

“Look,” he starts, putting his knife down and looking you in the eye. “I know I overreacted. I shouldn’t have approached that conversation the way that I did. I’m sorry.”

You nod, maintaining a stoic expression. “Thanks for the apology, Bucky. I know you were only worried because you care.”

“I shouldn’t have been so harsh, though. You were right – I was assuming the worst,” he shakes his head, trailing off like there’s more he wants to say. “Look… Yelena’s coms were on while you and her were on lookout yesterday. I heard you say that you’re in lo—”

“Shhh,” you swat at him, your cheeks heating up when you realize he had overheard that little confession. “Jesus,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Can you keep it down? We haven’t exactly told each other we love each other yet.”

You follow Bucky’s gaze to where the others are sitting in the living room. Bob sits beside Yelena, directly across from Walker and Alexei, who appear to be giving him the third degree.

At least he’s oblivious to your and Bucky’s conversation.

“My point is,” he continues, “I had no idea you felt so strongly for him. And while you don't need my approval, I just wanted to tell you that I am happy you’ve found someone that you can experience those feelings with. You deserve it. You both do.”

You relax at his words, exhaling in relief. He's right – you don’t need his approval, but it’s still nice to hear that one of your closest friends is happy for you.

“Now go save your boyfriend,” he nods toward the group of people on the other side of the room. “Alexei is trying to give him pointers for the bedroom.”

“Damn it,” you huff under your breath. You look back at your friend once more. “Thanks, Buck.”

Once you and Bob are in the privacy of the elevator, you feel a gigantic weight off of your shoulders at knowing all of that is behind you. It’s only up from here.

“Everything okay?” Bob asks, pulling you into his embrace.

You look up at him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“Everything is perfect.”

••••••

..... and as for their date... should i do a part two? or just leave it up to your imagination? 🫢

either way, thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖

here's another recent bob one-shot by me: delicate

[eyelessfaces]

touch starved bob reynolds who starts hugging you after every mission because it’s a reasonable and justified reason to do it, and an excuse to be able to hold you without it seeming weird

touch starved bob who gets startled when you put your hand over his to stop him from nervously fidgeting, and who feels it in his stomach when you rub your thumb back and forth over his hand to calm him down

touch starved bob who drifts off during movie night and unconsciously ends up with his head resting against your shoulder, apologizing when he wakes up, flustered when you tell him you don’t mind and he can leave it here if he wants and feels comfortable

touch starved bob who reaches for and holds onto your hand for dear life whenever he feels anxious in public settings, because it’s something you’ve established and encouraged him to do

touch starved bob who visibly melts when you push away the front pieces of his hair when they're falling in front of his eyes

touch starved bob who has to make sure his mind is not playing tricks on him when you take his face into your hands and press your lips against his for the first time

touch starved bob who, with all the confidence he can gather, has to kiss you back twice as tenderly, making sure to commit the feeling to memory just in case you wouldn't want to do it again and would think it was a mistake

touch starved bob who always asks if it's okay before touching you when you start dating because he’s scared he’s being too clingy and that his need to touch you might be suffocating

touch starved bob who is nervous the first time you sleep together because he has barely ever had sex sober and he’s unsure how to handle it without the extra confidence

touch starved bob who constantly needs to be kissing you in hope it can be a distraction if he's not doing something right, asking you how you're feeling a bit too often

touch starved bob who whimpers a little too loud when you affirm and praise him, telling him he's doing a good job

touch starved bob whose face turns red when you tell him to sit back and relax when you take the upper hand, feeling he might be a bit too nervous to really fully enjoy the moment if he keeps being in charge

touch starved bob who needs to be held and to be as close to you as possible when you’re done, his head resting over your stomach and your fingers running through his hair as he falls asleep

touch starved bob who attentively watches you sleep beside him when he wakes up the next morning, fighting the urge to push back the strand of your hair that is falling over your face, not wanting to wake you up

touch starved bob who presses himself against you and slides his hand under your shirt to ground himself when he can't sleep because the warmth of your skin brings him back to reality when he overthinks and when things get too tense inside his own head

touch starved bob who always rests a hand at your back when he comes up behind you, resting his chin over your head if he has to stay here

touch starved bob who, no matter how long you've been dating, will always blush under your compliments, and even more over you covering his face with kisses when you want him to believe those

touch starved bob who doesn't even realize how much he smiles every time he touches you or you touch him, as if unconsciously, his body is finally learning what it means to be wanted

—

thunderbolts taglist: @majestic-jazmin @eternallymaroon @sillymilly17 @yyiikes @snazzynacho

[abbysbenchpr]

18+ minors dni

thinking of… somno with bob that goes both ways. he brings it up shyly one day that he wants you to use him whenever you want—make yourself feel good even if he’s asleep. later, he wakes up to the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing up the solid length of him from where you’ve pulled his pyjama pants down just enough. whines and whimpers while he watches you make yourself cum like that, slicking up the underside of his cock with every roll of your hips, his tip nudging your swollen clit.

every fibre of his being wants to reach down and guide himself into you and feel that tight, wet heat sucking him in. but he even more desperately needs to be your good boy, so he waits just a little longer for you to do it yourself, and only when you’re cumming again, this time around him, does he allow himself to let go.

or the other way around—bob, who’s just so needy and hard for you that he can’t stop himself from rutting against your sleeping form. tries to muffle his moans with his bottom lip between his teeth but there’s a wet spot spreading down the front of his boxers from how he’s fucking leaking pre-cum everywhere, and everything is just so hot and wet.

it’s a wonder you stay asleep, even as he slips a hand under your waistband and finds you fucking soaked. always ready for him, even now.

he slides into you with your panties pulled to the side because he just couldn’t wait, driven half-wild by the throbbing ache. it’s the stretch of his fat cock making room for himself inside you that finally rouses you, making a confused, pleading sort of sound that goes straight to his dick and he feels himself get impossibly harder. and then he’s thrusting frantically, barely pulling out before his hips are snapping back in, grunting into your neck.

“‘m sorry,” he whines, drool pooling at your jugular, but how sorry can he be, when he’s balls-deep inside you with the primal need to feel you milk him for all he’s worth. (he’ll apologise properly in the morning—probably with his tongue between your legs.)

[weeeyotch]

eager to please ღ r.r.

robert reynolds x f!reader

synposis: aside from a couple sexual interactions, bob has never really learned how to eat someone out. but he's eager to learn for you.

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), oral (fem receiving), messy pussy eating, sub/dom dynamics, praise kink, dacryphilia

word count: 1.7k

a/n: bob my beloved

For being the strongest man on Earth, he looks downright nervous.

He can take the force of a thousand bullets without a single scratch and fly at the speed of sound. Shit, he even brought Manhattan to its knees in a matter of minutes.

But here, in front of you? With his large, calloused hands gently resting on your parted thighs like they're sacred?

He's trembling.

"I just. . ." Bob swallowed, a loose curl falling onto his flushed forehead, slick with sweat and nerves. "I watched some videos online and—and I just want to do this right."

You ran a soothing hand through his hair. "You will, baby. I'll teach you how. Just listen to me."

He pouts and nods furiously. It makes your heart ache a little bit. This man could fly you to the next galaxy and pluck the stars out of the sky for you, and he would still believe that he isn't good enough.

Lying half-naked on the bed with your thighs spread comfortably around his warm body, you lean back on your elbows. Bob is still dressed in his cozy forest-green crewneck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. You feel rather vulnerable being more exposed than him, but the thought of soaking his clothes with your juices and leaving your mark made you absolutely drip.

There is no doubting he could see how wet your pussy is. He seems too anxious to look directly at it, still wanting to play the perfect gentleman. Instead, he opts to take quick glances and then dart his eyes away before you can catch him staring.

You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, trying to ground him. He offers you a shy, crooked smile that makes your heart leap. Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to absolutely ruin this man; to make him cry, to make him scream, to turn him into your pliant little play-thing.

But that was for another time.

Tonight, you were teaching him how to worship you like a devoted acolyte at the altar.

"Okay," you murmur, "start with some kisses."

Bob leans down, practically folding himself over you. One of his massive hands snakes around your outer thigh, anchoring him in place as he turns his head inwards. He begins by nuzzling his nose against your inner thigh, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your soft skin. Then, he places a single, hesitant kiss.

And another. And another. And another, until he's trailing soft and reverent kisses all the way up to your core.

Just when he's hovering where you need him the most, mere centimeters away from your dripping cunt, he shifts to the other thigh to continue the exact same ritual. The way he's taking his time, so gentle and focused on doting on you, makes your head spin.

With each kiss, he starts to gain more courage. He brushes higher and higher until—

A sharp gasp escapes you as he finally kisses your center. There was no tongue yet. It was just sweet and tentative, like he was afraid to break you.

"That's good," you breathe. "Keep going. Don't be afraid to get a little messy, baby."

Bob's eyes flick up to you, tears already threatening to spill out while silently begging for permission. You nod.

That's all he needs.

He shifts in closer, parting your puffy lips with two thick fingers. Then, in a sudden burst of courage, he leans in and drags his tongue through you in one long, slow, mind-numbing stroke.

"Ohh—fuck."

He dives back in, repeating the motion. His head moves with growing enthusiasm, curls splaying against your tummy as he buries himself deeper within your thighs. It's sloppy. Unpracticed. But fuck, it feels so unbelievably good.

The way he groans against you is almost animalistic, like your taste shattered something in him and is currently rewiring his brain chemistry.

"Holy shit," he pants, pulling back just enough for air, his chin glistening with your slick. "You taste—fuck. Fuck you taste so good."

Before you can respond, he's back on you, devouring you like a starving man. He experiments with every flick and stroke of his tongue, eyes intently watching you—watching, listening, learning. He hones in on the spots that make your hips jerk or thighs clamp around his head.

Each moan you give him is answered by a deep, guttural sound from his throat, like he's getting off just from pleasing you. It's raw, unfiltered, and so undeniably desperate.

Then he pauses, breath warm and heavy against your skin. Slowly, carefully, he adjusts his position. His thumbs come up to gently pull back your hood, revealing the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath.

And then, ever so lightly, he starts to kitten-lick your clit.

He definitely learned that trick from the dozen of videos he watched for 'educational purposes'.

"Oh god, right there," you gasp, throwing your head back. "Right there. Just like that."

A high-pitched whine escapes him, almost as if he has been waiting his whole life to hear that he's doing a good job. His grip on your thighs tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer. He buries his face even deeper in your pussy, dragging slow and reverent strokes over your clit.

Wet clicking noises fill the air, mixing in with the grunts, pants, and your ragged cries.

You start to grind against his face, chasing that sweet, mounting pleasure in your abdomen. "A-ah—you're so good. Bob, you're doing so good."

He groans again, much louder this time. The vibration against your core makes your legs twitch.

His mouth is eager and deliciously sloppy, tongue flicking experimentally then circling with new precision when he hears your broken moans.

He's learning you inside and out—hungrily, obsessively. Every whimper and desperate cry to God you give him is fuel.

Then, his lips close around your clit and suck.

Your back arches. The sensation is pure electricity; it is magical yet almost painfully overwhelming.

"Fuck! Right there. Don't stop, don't stop."

He would rather die.

His fingers flex on the plush of your thighs to ground himself. This is the tightest he has ever held onto you. He's always worried about hurting you with his strength, opting for feather-light touches that never leave you feeling quite satisfied.

But now?

Now he's undeniably pussy-drunk, and the fear has vanished entirely.

"You're so pretty," he pants in between strokes, his words muffled against your cunt. "I want—to do this—forever. I'll—get better. Let me—make you come. Please."

You're already right there.

With your hips jerking, thighs trembling uncontrollably, and his name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, you are coming undone. It's the worship in his voice, the way he presses adoring kisses to your clit between licks, and the primal desire he has to be good for you that sends you over the edge.

You wail, clutching his hair as your orgasm crashes over you. Your thighs clamp around him, your juices spilling out all over his lips and chin. He licks it up, greedy and reverent, not daring to waste a single drop.

But he doesn't stop.

Being as inexperienced as he is, he keeps going with the same eagerness and fervor. It helps you to ride out your high, but quickly leaves you feeling overstimulated. A part of you wanted to push through the pain and get lost in the pleasure again. However, that familiar sharp ache in your clit makes you flinch.

You squirm and push his head back. Only then does he finally pull away, eyes glazed over, like he just tasted heaven.

You're still catching your breath, thighs twitching as your body tries to recover from the storm he just dragged you through.

His voice cracks through the silence. Soft. Unsure. Raw.

"Did I do okay?" Bob asks, slowly rising.

You blink, trying to focus your vision on him once again. And fuck, he looks absolutely ruined.

His lips are pink and puffy. Your slick coats his chin and cheeks. His lashes are clumped with moisture, like he cried from overstimulation. Maybe he did.

Your chest aches again with that same devious desire to wreck him. The way he looks at you—like a sinner pleading for salvation—makes you feel like a goddess; divine and beautiful, with his animalistic devotion dripping from every glance.

You sit up on trembling elbows. "You did so good, baby. You were so perfect."

Relief washes over him. That same crooked little smile appears and his shoulders sag with solace.

"I wanna get better," he whispers, eyes flicking down to the damp spot on your bedsheets. "Wanna learn everything you like. Wanna be good for you every time."

That sends a pulse of heat straight through you. You reach out your arms in silent invitation.

He climbs up your body and you grab his jaw to kiss him, tasting yourself on his mouth. You cradle his face as he hovers there. It is sticky and messy, but so painfully intimate.

"My good boy," you whisper against his lips, rubbing your thumbs just underneath his eyes where the tears escaped. "I adore you."

A blush spreads across his cheeks.

He gently lowers his full weight against you and shyly nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You stroke his hair, over and over, slow and calming. Every pass of your hand helps him relax, to feel safe and appreciated.

"You okay?" you ask softly, careful not to disturb his peace.

Bob nods into your skin. "Never been better."

You press a kiss to the crown of his head. "You're trembling."

"Only a little," he admits, arms wrapping around your waist. "Just can't believe I did that."

You lay there for awhile in the quiet afterglow. His breathing eventually evens out but your fingers never stop moving; they stroke his back, lightly scratch at his neck and scalp, and trace soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

Eventually, his voice breaks through the stillness again. It is low and timid.

"When you're ready. . ." he begins.

You hum, eyes still closed. "Yeah?"

There's a pause. Then, you can feel a bashful grin growing against your neck.

"Could you try sitting on my face?"

[the-angelseyes]

going over easy

pairing: bob reynolds x powered!thunderbolts!fem!reader

summary: two of the same. after breaking through inital barriers, you and the sentry appear to be inseperable, a pull almost forcing you two to each other. the strength of that pull has been getting pretty testy recently, and the two of you begin to wonder who you are to the other.

warnings/info: nsfw and mdni warning by the end of the fic, ill section off that part if you just wanna read the cutey parts, veryyyyyyy soft sex, no use of y/n, this bob is gonna be a little different from how i see him in a lot of other fics so disclaimer about that ig, but dw he's still very soft and sweet, oral sex and fingering (f!receiving), self depreciation on readers side, lots of my headcanons are gonna shine through here, reader is powered as well (yes that is gonna play into this lol) and is less of a blank slate than usual (aka shes kinda side rip), a scene in the void so we can know reader a little more and just for plot purposes lol, bob's powers are gonna be limited to whatever we saw showcased in thunderbolts so please dont get picky if somethings comic inaccurate thanks, its bob so ofc theres a little bit of angst too but dw this is very fluffy as well we love being well rounded lol

word count: 13.3k

notes: so guess who's obsessed with thunderbolts now.....and guess what half of the reasoning is.....if your guess was a man YOUD BE RIGHT!!!! i had to write for him ofc, i put a steve harrington fic on pause for this i had to jump on it lol. one thing i will say about bob fics that annoy me is that ofc everyone turns bob into a cutesy pootsy uwu boy which, hate me or whatever, he is NOTTTTT to me, that man was so sassy and sarcastic in the vault (to walker especially lol) so i wanted that to come out a little more here while still being his naturally sweet and soft self. i go a little bit into 2016 mcu fandom mode on some of the early character descriptions and relationships BUT CAN YOU BLAME A GIRL CAUSE IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK, I JUST HAD TO </3. i also didnt proofread this cause yet again its like 1am when im posting this and im so tired so if you catch anything uhhhh my bad lol. anyways this is standard to most of my other fics, so have fun lol enjoy!!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You always overcooked your eggs. It was part of your routine at this point in your life. As a kid, your irrationally large fear of getting salmonella caused you to force your mom to always burn your eggs, chicken, and other foods of the sorts. It didn't even taste bad to you. It was all you had ever known. Uncomfortable, but natural. You scooped the rubbery eggs out of the pan and onto your plate while you attempted to squirt whatever ketchup you could out of the bottle. Taking your lunch, you leaned on the kitchen island and stared out of the sweeping windows of The Watchtower.

Valentina finding you was complicated. On one hand, you were out of the hell hole of a compound you called a home. However though, her manipulation paired with constant missions and training proved to be its own task entirely. And still with all that, your mind had a knack for traveling back to that dark, damp room. Like a looming threat over your head that if you ever messed up, that's where you would return.

That fear pushed you for the past few years. You worked till your bones cracked fixing up Valentina's messes. It was monotonous, but you had convinced yourself to be grateful for the opportunity to become something more with what you had. You had a special gift after all. Thrusted onto you, sure, but Valentina said that it meant you were worth something now. A living shield and sword. Each time you got hit, your body was able to process the kinetic energy into physical blasts. Meaning dodging an attack was actually bad form on your part. So you got hit. A lot. Most days you'd stumble back to your apartment, knocked in the head so silly you didn't know what was up or down.

But it was good work. Kept you busy. That was until Valentina attempted to have you assassinated, trying to tie up all her loose ends. That's all you were to her at the end of the day. A fly on the way she had to clean up before her guests arrived. Turns out though, she had lots of other flies on the walls, who would in fact turn their forces against her, becoming the world's New Avengers in the process.

One of Yelena's first personal tasks on the job was to find any other lost associates of Valentina. Lucky for you, you fell right into that category. After proving yourself physically capable and trustworthy to her and the rest of the team, you eventually joined as an official member. Your rise to glory had been long and tough, but man was the view from the top nice.

As you grew closer with each of the teammates, you noticed each of their little knick-knacks. Yelena was very easy to let you in, almost like she was begging to share herself with someone else. She must've gotten it from her father, Alexei. He didn't take anything more than four hours to warm up to you. The other three went at a much slower pace, Ava and you eventually bonding over your mutual teasing for Walker, who you made sure knew it was all in good fun. Bucky was last, but it seemed thats how he was with most people. You let him take his time, which seemed to work well in the end. All of them had made their way.

Well. Almost.

Bob was kind of a weird guy. He was kind of an Avenger? But not really? If anything, he was more of their dog that would show up to public appearances with you and the team, but never missions. He spent most of his time lounging around or cleaning up the Watchtower, or in sessions with his therapist. He was always looming around, but kept a specific distance. Mainly physical. Whenever you'd seem to be about to brush by him, he'd scatter away, like a cat who got spooked. You had talked to Yelena about it before, but she said to just give him his time. That this was probably natural after his "incident" a few months back.

You weren't in New York for it, but it of course was on the news everywhere. How a sea of black ink had devoured the city and all of its civilians in their own personalized trauma nightmare. Something you were secretly grateful to have missed. You knew exactly what you'd see if you were in there.

In the recent time of your arrival, you had managed to find and take up your role in your little group. Their own little weird mage, banned from making food for anyone but yourself. No one else liked your burnt food, big shocker.

As you wrapped up with said burnt lunch, you took your plate and utensils to the sink, as a pair of bare feet patted into the room. "Good morning sleepyhead," you called out, knowing who they belonged to already. "Morning's a bit of a stretch, it's like what, 1:30 already?" Bob replied, mid yawn. "I told you guys to start forcing me up earlier," he complained. "Yeah yeah, but Yelena says it's good for you. Your body needs its rest after the serum treatment," you retorted. "Doesn't..." he paused mid sentence to check his sleep tracker on his watch. "....14 hours seem like a little much?" "Hey, your body's gonna take what it needs," you said, finally turning around to face him. He was wearing his usual lounge outfit, a gigantic, comically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. His body had grown incredibly sensitive to touch after the serum, so the less fabric tightening down on him, the better.

Bob gave a half smile to your comment and attempted to wipe the drowsiness off his face. "You can leave that for me, it's fine," Bob commented, as you took the dish soap and drizzled it over your dirty plate and pan. "I don't mind, I'm already here anyways," you insisted, turning on the tap. Bob sighed and shrugged his shoulders backwards in an attempt to wake his body up. "Alright, but I'm taking charge on the stovetop," he insisted, walking over to your area.

Something must've been in the air today, because this was the most Bob had talked to you in a while, and this was definitely the closest he had stood near you ever before. His presence was a sweet one, as he himself was a sweet guy. You had seen it in the way he acted with everyone else. You knew it probably had to deal with the fact that you were the newcomer, a different face than what he was used to, but you wanted to badly to have something that close with him too. A deep, lingering jealousy had proved to be a close friend of yours when you would see how he would act with John or Yelena compared to how he would act with you.

Hopefully, this was a step in the right direction.

"You know where the others went?" Bob almost immediately asked.

Or maybe not.

"Downstairs in a meeting with Valentina. I got a pass to skip on this one." In the last meeting you had been to, Bucky had to hold you down before you had the chance to blast her smug smirk off her face.

Bob made a hum in acknowledgment. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, which you caught out of the corner of your eye. "How do you feel about....her?" Bob paused for a moment.

When Yelena had told you Valentina was at majority blame for The Void Incident, you had no doubt in believing it. You didn't know how the others were so okay with it, but Ms. de Fontaine being your boss still unsettled you. You didn't like the idea that she was still overseeing all of your actions and controlling how you were supposed to be acting towards the public. Especially after the shit she's pulled. Once Yelena explained the situation, about the blackmail shock collar the team had on her if she ever took anything too far, you felt a little more at ease about it. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake off the paranoia about being in this situation with her.

"Fine," Bob responded. You placed the plate down in the sink and turned to face him finally. "That's all you're gonna give me? Fine?" He gave a deep, annoyed sigh. "Well what do you want me to say? That I don't like her? That I don't trust her? That she's the reason I'm like this now and when it didn't go the way she planned, she killed me? Hmm?" You froze a little bit. You hadn't seen this side of him before. The team said it came out a little bit when he would go "Sentry-Mode" (a name made on Alexei's part). You sighed and went back to washing your dish. Bob rubbed his face again. "Sorry, I just thought it was pointless to state the obvious." You smirked a little bit. "Well that's one thing right. Just trying to fill the air I guess." "I know....sorry, that was mean." There's the Bob you know. Always apologizing. "You're good."

The air was stuffy with a tension for the next few minutes while you cleaned the kitchen. Up until a wet glass plate slipped out of your hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into a billion little pieces. Bob flinched at the sound, on the other side of the island wiping down the counter. You froze and chuckled to yourself a bit. "Woah, you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit of a ditz today," you said, wiping your hand across your face. "You're good, just stay where you are for a sec, I don't want you to get any in your feet," Bob warned, going into first responder mode as he assessed the situation. "I wanna try this out for a second," he insisted.

You watched closely and stilly, as Bob took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and put his hands out. Suddenly, the glass shards around your feet jittered and lifted into the air slowly, as Bob opened his eyes and guided them to the trash can. Once he was done, he released his breath and dropped his hands. "Well look at mister big shot powers over here!" you cheered. "Bucky let you start practicing again recently?" "Yeah, a little bit here and there just so I don't go overboard again," he blushed a light pink. "Keep it up," you smiled at him.

Before you took another step, you looked down at the ground and noticed a particularly large piece of glass. "Oops, looks like you missed one hot-rod." "Shit, sorry, let me try one more time," he said closing his eyes again. "No no, don't worry, it's fine, I'll just pick this one up," you insisted, reaching down to pick it up. "No, wait, you'll cut yourself!" Bob shouted, almost running over to reach you. "Bob, it's fine I pro-."

As Bob's hand grabbed onto your wrist, you felt a spike of shivers roll down your arm. The first time he had made contact with you, and his hands were so soft....

You couldn't focus on it for long though, looking up and seeing a face of pure horror on Bob's face. You looked at him confused. You were quick to join him though as streams of black slithered across the floor and over your eyes. The last thing you remember was Bob's hand ripping off your wrist, desperately called out your name as the shadows took his place.

~~~~~

Your eyes peeled open, as you tried to assess your surroundings after the chaos. It was eerily quiet, a leaky faucet dripping as the only sound. The room was dark, damp, and cold. Concrete floors and walls, a chamber pot in the corner, and a cot with a wrinkled, thin blanket shoved against the wall. After your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw her. The lone decoration of the room. A poster of 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's, Audrey Hepburn's face faded and discolored with time. The more you stared, the more you recognized this room. You knew where you were. And worst of all, you knew exactly what day this was.

With almost perfect timing, the metal door slide open with angry force. Three armored men burst into the room, as you heard something shuffle itself across the floor. You didn't even notice her at first.

A girl, shoved up into the corner of the wall, head hanging over the chamber pot as she wiped the bile off her mouth. Your memory was fuzzy, but she couldn't have been older than 17 at the time. With short, flat, oily, botched up hair. Wires were bursting out of her neck and down her back, connecting her to a running machine in the wall for vitals.

You. An older one.

The most notable feature was her frame. You would expect someone in this situation to look malnourished, seconds away from death. On the contrary, uncanny muscles were bulging out of her arms and upper back, like they were clawing to be let out. A product of the treatment, like a sumo wrestler on steroids.

The men rushed over to that version of you, ripping the wires out of her neck and latching on a power damper collar in their place. That collar itself was an omen. Can't torture the girl who can absorb the pain and shoot it back out. You'd just be throwing fuel onto the fire.

They forced younger you up to your feet as their superior walked into your room. You could feel your heart stop in your chest as you searched in desperation for a way out. You called out for Bob, Yelena, anyone at all. Almost like your mind was in tune with your decisions, the metal door slammed shut just before you could run out. You leaned your head on the door, not bearing to look, barely standing to listen.

Your old superior examined younger you and the rest of the room, the poster in particular. He smiled sadistically at it. "A real stunner she was, eh?" You scoffed at his words while younger you darted her eyes away. In one swift movement, he ripped the poster down to reveal a makeshift hole halfway into the wall. Your escape route. Taking a deep breath, you finally turned around to face the incoming carnage.

"You think you're smart huh?" the man asked her. Younger you tilted her head up, looking him straight in the eyes, too worn down to care what would happen to her. He smirked. Her silence was enough of an answer. He snapped at his employees, one of them slamming the butt of his gun into her temple in response. You couldn't help but flinch.

The superior slide open the metal door again, as his pawns dragged her unconscious body out the door, while you closely followed. The harsh hospital lights left a sting to your eyes as you traveled through your mind's endless hallways. Finally, you reached the chamber. The door slide open to reveal a dentist chair and an array of instruments littered throughout the room.

The men placed her down into the chair, one of them injecting a serum into her arm to wake her up. Younger you shot awake, pulled down by different leather restraints. Bile filled your mouth as you were reduced to being so helpless to just watch. A doctor followed into the room soon after the six of you, his face burned into your mind.

He took two long prongs, pinching them onto the skin of her elbow, and turned on a machine to send out electrical shocks. After a signal from the commander, he sent out the first wave. You couldn't help but turn your head away, holding back your own tears as phantom pains of remembrance ripped through your skin.

The worst part of all of this was how younger you barely struggled at all, only letting out blood curdling screams of pain. She had accepted her fate hours ago, knowing this was inevitable. Why fight it. It would only make it worse. It made you sick to your stomach. How much she had given up at this point.

A pause in the shocks. You turned your head back to see the commander walking up to the girl, sticking his face down to her's. "You knew this was going to happen?" The girl nodded her head slowly, with the energy she had left. He scoffed. "Then you're dumber than I thought." He stepped back again and signaled for the second wave.

Not baring to take it again, you went against your own judgement and rushed between the men, ripping the prongs off of the girl's body. You met her eyes for a split second.

Behind the numbness, you could see her fear. Roaring underneath the surface.

Before you could sense the rest, you felt a slam into your own temple, knocking you down to the floor. You looked up to see all the men looking at you now, the first time they had done so. The commander pushed past them, staring you down. He crouched down to your level, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear as you shuddered. "Still the same dumb girl I see," he smirked.

In a split second, he grabbed your arm, attaching one of the prongs to it, as the still working machine sent hundreds of volts into your arm in a split second, slicing through your nerves.

~~~~

Before you had time to react to the pain, your body in the real world roared back to life, as you screamed and coughed to catch your breath. You found yourself sitting down in the middle of the kitchen as your hands scrambled all over the ground as you hyperventilated, trying to ground yourself. "Woah, woah, woah, easy, I got you, you're safe now!" You looked up and finally noticed Yelena sitting on the ground in front of you. She had both hands placed on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes to help you center yourself. You frantically looked around the room, finding the other team members close by, staring at you. Eventually, you found Bob, walking out of the room with Bucky close on his tail. You wanted to talk to him, knowing he was probably upset too, but you had bigger things on your mind.

"I.....I..." You couldn't get the words out. Before you could try again, Yelena softly pulled you into a hug, that you returned very quickly. "You're good now, okay?" she asked. You nodded gently into her shoulder. With more deep breaths and a few tears, you eventually were brought back down. You pulled out of the hug, and began to stand on your feet.

"Yelena, I told you I needed the team up to the helicopter deck in five minutes, do you guys take pleasure in disobeying me or wha-." Valentina bursted out of the elevator, rambling on about what they were probably discussing in the meeting. She only paused after noticing the obvious tension in the room. She looked at you, hunched over and mascara running down your face. "Well what happened to you this time?"

~~~~~~~

The ambient blue glow of the tv washed over your face, as your eyes glazed over the screen. In the few hours since the incident, the team decided it was best for you to sit out on this mission. So you had cooped yourself up in your room, trying anything to distract your mind from going back to that place. Every now and again, you'd hear light pacing footsteps in the hallway outside your door.

You hadn't spoken to Bob since you went under. He hadn't made any attempts to apologize yet. Yelena said it would probably take some time and she would talk to him as soon as she got back. You didn't want to wait until then to make things right, but knowing how fragile both of you were at the moment, you didn't want to accidentally make anything worse.

When the footsteps finally stopped, you sat up a little bit in your bed. Three soft knocks followed. You paused. "Come in." It wasn't him.

Ava gave you a soft "Hi" before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "How was the mission?" you asked her. She shrugged her shoulders. "More of the same really, you didn't miss much." She gave a little hop onto your bed, laying down on her stomach next to you. "How you feeling?" You gave a little sigh to her. "A little better. I just think I need time." She nodded at your response, and gently held your hand. "You need me, you know where to find me, okay?" You smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. Ava put up a front with the rest of the time, teasing many of the others and acting nonchalant. But something else came out in her around you. That little girl, normally shoved under years of pain and killing.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked her. "Of course." You took a deep breath in and looked her in the eye. "Back when....he took over New York, what did you see?" Ava took a minute to think to herself. "Well, I went through three different rooms to find Bob and Yelena at the center." You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable, open position, trying to create a more welcoming energy in the room as Ava got vulnerable with you. "First room was with my parents and how I got....this way." She took off one of her gloves from her suit, showing her hand phasing between multiple quantum planes at once. A painful experience, she described it as. "Second room was one of my first missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., I had to take out an unarmed doctor."

She twiddled with her fingers, looking down as she picked at the nails. "Last one was a fight I had with an old friend.....he was trying to protect me from....myself I guess....said a lot of things I regret." You frowned down at her, placing a hand on her back to rub it in condolences. "That Bill guy you were talking about earlier, right?" She nodded. "But anyways, I've learned not to dwell on it anymore. My life is different now." She looked up at you. "All of ours are now." You nodded in acknowledgment.

"We're never gonna let those bastards get you again. Can you trust me on that?" She held your face between her hands. You nodded. She looked at you deeper. "I can. All of you," you verbalized. She sat up and pulled you in tightly for a hug. Ava was your best friend. You could trust her more than anyone else here on that.

As she pulled away, she cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a question now?" You nodded. "Do you blame Bob for what happened?"

You took a second.

"No." Ava raised an eyebrow at you. "I really don't." "Okay good, just making sure." You smiled at her. "Is Yelena talking to him?" "She's gonna try to at least," Ava sighed. "He's gonna be like this for a while. Scampery, avoidant. We've learned it's best to let him work through it." You nodded. "But he's gonna be okay, right?" Ava looked up at you, slight confusion in her eyebrows. "Yeah....." You nodded. "Okay....good."

Ava sat in silence for a little bit. "You care more about him being okay than you being okay?" You looked at her, clogs turning in your mind. "When you put it like that, I guess." She looked even more confused now. "Why?"

.....

"I don't know."

~~~~~~~

The next few days were spent with you trying to answer that question for yourself. You and Bob's relationship before this was never a super close one. You always naturally kept a distance from each other. It didn't make much of a difference if things went back to normal from this or not. So why did it matter? Why did it matter if he started talking to you again? Because man did you want him to again. And badly too.

It was like he was playing a prank on you at this point. Every time you would enter a room he was in too, he would find some excuse to leave, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth. You knew the other team members noticed it too, because you would see one of them usually follow out of the room with him to confront him. You didn't want him to take the blame for this. You knew he was just taking this healing stage at his own pace. But man did you just wish his pace would go a little faster.

At least he wouldn't go on missions with you guys, then you'd really be screwed.

You tended to forget a very important fact because of that.

"Val needs you all downstairs in an hour, there's that press conference about the rebranding today." You could hear Mel talking to the group from your cracked bedroom door. You had been snooping in there, since Bob was in the control room outside with everyone else. "Bob, she wants you there too this time, says the more members there in support, the better."

Shit.

You could hear his whiny groan from your room. "Do I have to?" "Unless you wanna tell Val yourself." That must've been a huge wake up call for him, cause you could hear him rush your way to his room to get ready. He made split second eye contact with you before closing the door. Your heart almost broke with the swiftness his eyes darted away.

You closed your door and started getting ready yourself before you had to take orders from anyone. Most press meetings required a more casual, business attire. Ones like this however, required full glam, full hair, and full costume. You were particularly fast at the getting ready process, especially since you didn't have a thousand gun holsters you had to fasted on, unlike your other team members.

Your costume was also fairly simple. With the nature of your powers, your previous suits had a knack for getting the sleeves torn off, so you decided to replace that design with a simple, black, mock neck bodysuit. Your pants were standard black cargo pants, multiple pockets in case you needed any physical weapons on you in an emergency. They were tied off with a pair of heavy duty combat boots.

For press conferences, Valentina usually requested you to go the most glam with hair and makeup out of the group, since the other two girls were slightly opposed to it. So once that was finally done, you walked out of your room into the control deck, ready to go.

You usually sat there for a good amount of time by yourself, until one of the guys would join you. But this time, Yelena was the first one out after you, albeit half dressed, in the middle of doing her eyeliner, and a makeup bag in her hand.

She looked at you, slightly distressed. "What's up?" you asked. She clenched her teeth. "You're gonna say no, I know it." "Can you just ask me?" She took in a deep sigh. "Can you help Bob with his hair and makeup?" It took every bone in your body not to burst out laughing at her request.

For Valentina and the press, everyone in the tower had to be dressed up. Including the guys. Not too much, but some to cover up most of their "tough guy" looks. Almost like a stage makeup of sorts. The stylists you guys had were always wrangled up with Alexei and Walker, always opposed to the idea and needing extra support, so Yelena would take care of Bob's and Bucky would handle his own.

"I'm already running behind and Val wants Barnes and I down early to practice responses." You looked at her, baffled. "And Ava can't do it?" Yelena raised her eyebrows at you. "It's a miracle Ava can do her own." True, unfortunately. "Yelena, you're kidding me right?" She walked closer to the couch you were sitting at. "He's a grown man, can't he do it himself?" "Yes, but unfortunately he's also a very slow learner too." You shook your head to yourself. "Have you even been in the tower for the past week, he won't even look at me right now," you whispered. She sighed to herself. "I know I know, and this would be a one time thing I promise, I just really need the help right now."

You leaned back into the couch and washed your hands over your face. "And not to be an instigator, but I think it would help you two also." You snorted at her sentence, taking your hands off your eyes to see how serious her face was. You took a deep breath and thought it over for a second or two. "Fine," you gave her, deadpanned. "But you owe me so much right now." Yelena let out a sigh of relief. "I really do, thank you." She dropped the makeup bag, presumably filled with the tools you'd need, in your lap, and bolted towards her room.

~~~~~

The door to the room loomed over your head, seemingly getting taller with every passing second you stood in front of it. Biting the bullet, you finally gave four slight knocks on his door, the same knock Yelena used for all of you. Yes, it was a bit of a trick, but you knew he wouldn't have let you in otherwise. You heard a soft, kind "Come in" from the other side of the door that made your heart warm up ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. Your heart froze up again when you saw the way his smile dropped when you walked in. He was dressed in his usual attire for conferences, a pressed, slightly too big for him, tuxedo with dress shoes. But of course, his hair was in its natural, shaggy mess and you could spot any upcoming pimples from a mile away. Your job for the afternoon.

"What ar-" "Before you kick me out can I explain!" you jumped in before he could interject. He waited a second before nodding. "Yelena had to go downstairs early and doesn't have the time to get you ready, and before you ask, yes everyone else is too busy, and yes, I am your last resort."

His eyes darted away from you and to the ground, the most of an invitation over as you were gonna get. You took a seat on his partially made bed, observing the rest of his room. It took you a second to remember that you've never been in here before. It was a lot cleaner than you expected it to be. Then again, he spent almost all of his time in the tower, so he had a lot more time to clean than the rest of you did.

There were scattered band posters on the dark blue walls of the room, and a few collected rocks lying on his T.V. stand. You opened up the bag and took out his hair gel first. Val liked his long, overgrown hair to be slicked back for press events. You squirted some of the gel on your hands and lathered it deep into them.

When you went for his hair though, he moved his head slightly back away from you. You immediately put your hands down in response. "Okay, let's get this straight now," you snapped. "I get you're mad at me for whatever reason, but I'm not gonna take this from you right now, especially when I'm trying to help you. So either grow the fuck up, or you can do it yourself, okay?" His eyes widened a little bit. You were never the mean type towards anyone on the team, but when your limits were tested like this, you had no choice but to respond.

Putting back any feelings he had, he straightened up and leaned closer into you. "Thank you," you responded. "I'll be quick, I promise. Out of your bubble in no time." Your hands tangled into his hair, pushing the light brown strands back in straight lines. Before it would get tangled in by the gel, you could feel how soft his hair was. Even if it was overgrown, you could tell he took pride in it.

As you pushed his hair back into a makeshift mullet, making sure the gel wasn't ruining his curls at the bottom, you noticed something. Just out of your peripherals, you could see his eyes, darting every which way. They couldn't stay still for more than a second. Sometimes they would be at your shoulders, at your legs, your hair. Most of the time though, they were trying to find where you weren't. But each time, they would land magnetically back to you.

You couldn't help but let out a little laugh to yourself, a little breath out of your nose. "What?" Bob reflexively asked. You smiled and shook your head. "I really don't get you, man." His brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Finally finished with his hair, you untangled your hands and brought them back to you, his eyes following them. "Bob, you're scared shitless of me."

A glow of pink wiped over his cheeks. "N-no I'm not." You laughed right in his face, as you went into the makeup bag and pulled out primer, foundation, and concealer. You squeezed lines of primer from the bottle onto his face. Before you could use your hands to rub it in though, he quickly grabbed your wrist again. Same way as before. You froze for a second before you realized, nothing was happening. You weren't going back in. You realized why when you looked at Bob's face, focused now more than you had ever seen before.

Your face and demeanor softened. "Bob." His face turned to yours, fear glazing over his eyes, trying desperately to keep the void from taking you again. You took his calloused fingers in your hands, peeling them away from your wrist and holding it with your own. You looked into his deep blue eyes, almost lost in them.

"I'm not scared of you."

His breath shook at your words, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes slightly water up. "I never have been. And I don't plan on changing that." The tension in his body melted away at those magic words. His lips pursed inwards as he looked down at your hands intertwined. "Can you trust me on that?" He gave a slight nod to you. You took his chin to your hand and pulled it up to look at you. His eyes were fully watery now. "Can you?" It took him a second.

".....I can."

You smiled at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. You closed your eyes and nodded to him. "You're welcome." The two of you sat for a moment like this, hands tangled in each other and observing each other's faces. You noticed how large his hands were. You never really considered your hands as small either, so the fact they were still much bigger than yours surprised you. They were restless as well, constantly moving between your own fingers, like they were getting a feel for how yours were. This was the most you had ever seen him before, in more ways than one.

Eventually, you let his hand go and cleared your throat. "Let's get you ready now, I'd rather avoid an earful from Val after the conference." Bob nodded and sat up straight again, as you rubbed the primer into his face with your thumbs. His slightly stubbled chin tickled the pads of your fingers in an almost hypnotic notion. Before you even knew it, your hands were staying caressing his face. Bob didn't seem to mind it, his eyes slowly closing, and even leaning his face into your touch further.

The two of you immediately snapped out of it at the sound of Bob's door slamming open. Mel stood at the door, panting, hand leaning against the frame for support. "What the hell is taking so long?" she asked frantically. "Uhhhhhh." The lack of an answer you two could come up with only angered her more. She rolled her eyes and pointed to you. "Get downstairs, I'll finish up with him." You looked back to Bob, smiled, gave his cheek a quick pat as you stood up and walked out the door.

Before Mel closed the door behind you, you caught Bob's eyes, hypnotically following you. As if he was searching for you. For more.

~~~~~~

Something shifted between the two of you after that day. No more avoidance. You found Bob coming to you for anything now. Whether he was having one of his bad days, needed help cleaning something up, or even if he just wanted to watch a movie with someone. Equally, you found yourself going to him for almost anything. Almost.

The main difference between the two of you was Bob had told you everything about him. You knew him like a book. Every page studied and memorized. But when he would ask you something about your past, you always managed to slither out of the question. You didn't mean to be so secretive around him. It was more of a reflex at this point. You'd done it with everyone. He was included in that group.

You could tell it hurt him though. Knowing there was some part of you that either didn't trust him enough to know, or maybe just didn't want him to know at all. Hopefully with time you'd be able to open up, not just to him, to everyone. But that's all the two of you could do for now. Hope.

A sign of that coming close had finally appeared, a new impulse crossing your mind. Dating.

For obvious reasons, relationships had never been a top priority for you. But as things were slowing down in your life, you began to feel left out of the "dating in NYC" craze. Without much experience under your belt, you decided to go through the dating app route. That proved to be more challenging than you thought. "I don't think men on here have ever had a conversation with a woman before," you'd complain to Bob or Ava constantly, usually followed by a large eye roll from them.

Lightning seemed to have struck though. On your way home from grocery shopping, you managed to bump into a guy at your bus stop. It was something straight out of a movie, the way the wind knocked of your cap and he had managed to catch it for you. The two of you spent the entire bus ride talking, and he eventually asked you for your number once you reached your stop. Tonight was date night. He had planned a special dinner in the city, and the two of you would go dancing after.

"Are you sure this guy's not like some stalker or something? You are a superhero after all, there's weird fans all over the city," Ava protested. Her and Bob were sitting in your room as you got ready. She sat on your light yellow beanbag on the floor, tossing a crumpled up paper with the address to the restaurant on it into the air. Bob was laying down on your bed, extra quiet today for some reason, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's not, I promise, Bob saw him too, he can vouch for me," you waved her off, looking in your mirror trying to do your makeup. You could see Ava look to Bob behind you through the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at him, which he just shrugged off. "I'd just prefer you not get kidnapped tonight, so try to avoid that if you can," she turned back to you. "Ava, if he's a normal citizen, I'll have zero problems defending myself, if anything happens," you defended. You sprayed some setting spray onto your face, and got up to change into your outfit.

Your bedroom had an attached bathroom, so you went in there to change. Once you closed the door, you took off your current sweats and baggy turtleneck sweater and slipped on your outfit. Your date asked you to go a little more formal than normal first date, so you specially picked out your outfit from your closet: a black boat-neckline midi dress, with a little thigh slit for less formal environments. It was gifted to you a few years back, but you hadn't worn it since. There was one glaring issue you noticed.

Throughout your time in the lab, you had obviously developed some scars. You didn't mind most of them, being electrocution scars, which made for some pretty cool war stories. Photoshoot photographers were particular fans of those. Some scars, however, weren't exactly your favorites. The specific one being a thick, prominent scar, starting at your right collarbone and trailing up to the back of your neck. It was fairly recent, compared to the rest of your scars, so the fading process was far from beginning. It was part of the reason you stuck to turtleneck fashion so much. But with this dress here, it was finally out in the open, something you weren't so sure you were comfortable with.

After convincing yourself though, you were willing to bite the bullet if it meant looking all dolled up for once. After a final examination in the bathroom mirror, you took a step out the door to show off to your friends. Both of them seemed to jump back to the positions they were in before you walked into the bathroom, almost like they were gossiping girls before. But once they noticed you, the air in the room stopped.

Ava was the first one to give out a little supportive holler when you stepped out, getting a little giggle from you. "What are you waiting for, give us a twirl!" she shouted. Obliging, you gave a little curtsey and spin. Turning to Bob, you could see a little smile curling up from this mouth. "So, what do you think?" you asked him, hoping for some words out of him today. "You look beautiful. Really really beautiful." There was a slight tint of melancholy in his words. You believed what he said, that was sincere. But his smile was actively lying to you.

His eyes spoke the truth though. You watched him as his eyes traced the way your dress hugged your body, highlighting all the beautiful parts of you, leaving little to the imagination. You saw his eyes stop at your collarbone, and his smile faded away. Just before you could see his mouth open to ask about it, you jumped right in. "Well, I better get going, I don't wanna miss my train," you frantically said, grabbing your kitten heels and strapping them on.

Ava and Bob followed you out of your room and towards the elevator out of the tower. Ava gave you a tight hug, whispering a little "Text me if you think he's a killer," before letting go. Bob's body seemed to stutter a little bit before giving you a hug. He had been more in control of the void spreading through his touch, but he was still cautious over it. His hugs always felt like home. The way he would squeeze you just the right amount and how well your chin fit into the crook of his neck. His hand sat comfortably just above your hips, with always his pinky finger straying a bit lower and tracing your upper thigh. When he let go he stayed close to you for a second, his eyes just slightly lower than where yours were. "Be safe, okay?' he asked with full sincerity. You nodded and let go just before getting into the elevator. "I will."

~~~~~~~

You rested your back against the elevator, back at the tower and up to your room after the long night. You checked your phone for a time. 2:24 am. Hopefully everyone else would be asleep when you got back.

The date wasn't bad. Not at all. In fact, it was one of the better ones you could remember going on. Dinner was nice and you went down to this jazz bar for some dancing. He walked you back to the tower and the two of you even shared a quick kiss.

So why did you feel so....weird? The circumstances were perfect for a second date. You like the guy, you really did. But something about him kept you from getting truly comfortable with him that night. The little things. The way he insisted to the waiter on splitting the bill, the way you had to stop every taxi for the two of you, the way he'd cut off your sentences. The way he couldn't stop looking at the scar poisoning your neck. That one really got you.

Maybe it was just your anxiety highlighting it, but it seemed every time his eyes would trail away from yours, they would land right on that scar. Like he was trying to subconsciously let you know it was there. As if you didn't have to take the work to try and cover it up every day of your life. That irked you most of all. You felt awful about it, it wasn't his fault it was there. But no matter how hard you tried, whenever you thought about going on a second date with him, you couldn't erase the look in his eyes out of your mind.

As you examined it in the mirror in the elevator, the doors slid open to an empty living room and kitchen floor. You wiped the tiredness off of your face and turned on a dim overhead lamp, setting your purse on the kitchen island to grab a quick water bottle. Your ears perked up when you heard some stirring from the couch area. Following the noise arose a head of shaggy brown hair. Your face softened and smile lifted when you saw his head turn around to find you. "Hi," you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Bob replied with a sleepy "Hey," eyes still lowered.

"Whatcha doing out here, shouldn't you be in bed?" you asked, walking over to the couch. "Couldn't sleep...came out here to city watch and try to get sleepy." Your head turned to the massive windows overlooking the night city, still so alive. Bob let out a small yawn and reached his arm over to where you were standing. You took his hand, allowing him to guide you over to sit next to him on the couch. His position was slouched and comfortable, still half asleep. He rested his head into your shoulder, sending a little nervous shiver into you. "How was it?" he asked, eyes closing. You sighed. "Good." He chuckled under his breath. "What's that for?" you asked, pointing your eyes down to him. "Someone who went on a good date wouldn't just say it was 'good'," he slyly slurred out. Maybe this is why you never see Bob right after he wakes up. This Bob was kind of an asshole.

"What, can I not go on a date that's just 'good'?" you asked, getting slightly mad with him. "Someone as special as you shouldn't have to lower herself to going on dates that are just 'good'." The words trailed off in volume on the way out, almost like he didn't even know they came out in the first place. But you managed to catch them. And they sent butterflies down into your stomach, a pink glow to your cheeks, and a stupid grin to your mouth.

You looked down at him, resting on your shoulder. His body leaned perfectly into yours, filling all the empty space with his own. His delicate hands rested in his lap while his eyelashes tickled the upper parts of his cheek. And his hair, his beautiful hair, curled perfectly at the ends, grazing against the back of your neck with the air of The Watchtower. You could fall asleep with him here for days, in perfect, complete serenity.

"So why was it just 'good'?" he finally asked after what seemed like minutes of silence. You thought to yourself. "Cause I'm not gonna go on a second date." He lifted his head off of your shoulder and looked at him, with a slight concern on his droopy face. "Did something happen?" "No no no, I promise," you quickly shut down the idea. "It's just....." He sat more at attention, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up more. You both turned to look at each other, the sides of your faces resting on the couch cushions. "He was fine, great even....I just...." You tried to find the words to describe what you were feeling. "C'mon honey, talk to me," Bob slipped out, in a deep, sleepy voice that sent waves through you.

"I can't see him being able to deal with me," you finally spoke. "What makes you think that?" You sighed. You sat up a little bit and pulled your hair back behind your neck and lifted up your chin. "You saw this earlier right?" Bob gave a soft hum and a nod in response. "I got this a while back, back when I was still in the labs you saw in my nightmare." His eyes focused in on the scar, trying to make it out with the little light in the room. "I wanted to ask earlier, but I didn't wanna upset you," he spoke. "I know you don't like talking about it." You smiled a little at his ability to know you so well.

"Well, on one of the missions I was sent on back there, I got injured real bad. Broke my clavicle and they could only fix it through surgery. But I wouldn't necessarily call their doctors 'top of the line', so the cleanup was messy." You brushed your hair back onto the scar to cover it up. "One of the many souvenirs they gave me," you attempted to joke. Bob smiled a little bit at it, but was still focused on your skin. "Anyways, I don't like looking at it much, it's one of my uglier scars, and when other people catch it, I can't help but worry about what they're thinking."

"What d'you think he was thinking about?" Bob asked, slouching his head back into the couch to secretly admire you. You slouched back too. "About how much of a piece of work I'm gonna be," you chuckled out, even if the thought made you wanna cry. You could see that same sadness in Bob's eyes as they trailed up to your eyes. You sighed and looked away from him to the window outside. "This is why I don't date," you joked, wiping your face.

"Hey." You looked back at him. "Can I do something I'm gonna regret once I'm more awake?" You raised an eyebrow at the suspicious statement. "Okay." He sat a little closer to you, bringing up a hand to your hair, looking to you for approval. You gave him a soft hum as he pulled the hair behind your neck again, and softly traced his thumb over the scar, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

As gently as he could, he brought his face closer and pressed his lips softly onto your clavicle. Your breath hitched, causing him to bring his face back again. His eyes bore into yours, ready to give an apology if you requested. But your hand encouraged his actions, tangling into the back of his hair and pushing his lips back in.

Bob's lips danced over your scar, as your breath got heavier and hands tugged on his roots in approval. His hands found their way to your hips, caressing you in all the right spots. You fought to keep in any sounds your mouth wanted to let out from his touch. But right as you could feel yourself getting to the good part, Bob placed his final kiss, releasing you as well. You rested your head back as Bob stood up from the couch, lending a hand out to you. "It's late, we can talk more tomorrow, but you need your rest for now." Bob almost seemed to snap out of whatever lustful spell was just over him. Or maybe you took what just happened the wrong way. You tried to process it in your head as you took his hand and stood up with him.

Hand in hand, he led you to your room. As he opened the door and let you inside, he leaned over you on the door frame with one more message: "If a man looks at you and his first thought is of is how much work you'll be, he's no man at all."

~~~~~~~~

His words stuck in your heart for the next few days as the two of you tried to pretend that nothing happened. Drowsy Bob was right, Awake Bob apologized to you profusely the next morning, claiming he had no idea what came over him that night. "....I didn't mind it," you confessed after his apology. Made him blush faster than you thought was humanly possible. After a long, embarrassingly awkward conversation, the two of you decided on an agreement.

Whenever you were feeling bad about yourself, physically specifically, you could go to his room and he'd help you....feel better. You weren't fuck buddies, that was for sure. You just happened to be friends who'd kiss each other's bodies multiple times a week. And it made you absolutely insane.

You couldn't even go to Ava about this, since you and Bob agreed it was best if this was a secretive thing. Truth is, this whole ordeal was making you obsessed with the guy. You couldn't get him out of your head. Him being your roommate only made things worse. You couldn't escape from him. You'd never wanted someone this much before, it was driving you mad.

All the problems in relationships you felt before seemed to disappear with him. Since that night, you found yourself opening up more and more to him. You knew each chapter of each other's lives. And that made you really fucking happy. Having someone you could trust with yourself utterly, wholly, and completely.

The late nights where he'd do nothing but kiss and hold you, like he knew the magic of his touch. But you were greedy. You needed more of him, but all the uncertainty just got in the way.

You knew this wasn't just a thing "friends" did. But not knowing the exact details of how he felt for you kept you from asking for more. What if this was something friends did in his mind? What if the only thing he felt for you was based in lust? You'd rather not have that potentially friendship ruining conversation, so you decided to take the "suffer in silence" route instead.

That wasn't your biggest worry at the moment though. No, that spot in your mind was currently being overshadowed by the bullet wound in your side. You weren't gonna die, your powers would take care of that step for you, but it still hurt like a bullet wound. You'd spent a couple hours on the medbay floor of The Watchtower getting patched up, now on your way up to join the rest of the team.

The minute the elevator doors opened, you were greeted by a giant hug from Alexei, shouting Russian expressions of joy. As endearing as it was, you had to have the rest of the team peel him off of you, as he was two seconds away from opening up your stitches. Once you caught your breath, you greeted the rest of the team, all glad for your recovery. Your smile dropped a little, after scanning the members in the room. "Where's Bob?" you asked. "His therapist wanted to extend his session a little bit today," Bucky answered. You nodded a little to yourself. "You know when he'll be back?" you asked, trying not to sound too needy. "Soon enough," Yelena giggled.

....

"Does he know about..." you gestured to your bandages, slightly pink from any leftover blood. In almost miracle timing, Bob stepped out of the elevator and into your conversation. "Hey, what's-," he started, before looking at you clutching your side. His eyes widened with fear. "Oh my god what happened?!" he shouted, rushing over to you. "It's fine, I'm fine, I just didn't dodge very well today and someone caught me off guard." In combat, you usually tried to avoid the gunslingers and sword masters for hand-to-hand instead. You got more energy from absorbing bullet wounds and cuts, but on a pain scale, you'd rather deal with working up multiple punches to the nose.

As Bob questioned your pain scale, it almost seemed as if the other teammates were slowly leaving the room one by one, until only you two were left in it. The two of you naturally made your way to the couch and talked about your days for what seemed like hours. You went over battle strategies, he debriefed about his appointment. Eventually, noticing the sun going down, you started to become aware of all the dirt and blood still sticking to your body. "Um, can I use your tub? I need to get the day off me before I start peeling my skin off," you joked, standing up off of the couch. "Sure, whatever you need," he insisted, getting up with you. The only teammates with bathtubs instead of showers in their rooms were Bob and Bucky, and in all honesty, you just wanted to be near Bob's presence right now.

The mixture of dried blood, sweat, and dirt stuck your suit straight onto your skin as you made a painful attempt to peel it off. You dropped the clothes to the floor, and examined the damage in your mirror, unraveling all your littered bandages. Your stitches seemed to be doing okay, but the rest of the little cuts and bruises on you made themselves apparent. Your powers were useful in the moment, but damn did the aftercare suck.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you walked over to Bob's room, leaving a soft knock on the door. A freshly bathed Bob opened up the door, now in his own baggy pajamas, his curls still wet and dripping. "I just wanted a to take a quick soak before you got in, I got a new round of hot water running for you." You gave him a little smile and stepped inside; he closed the door behind you. "Thanks." You walked into the steaming bathroom, tub filled to the brim with hot water like he said. Bob's bathroom was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled just like him; eucalyptus and peppermint oil, incense cones, and a touch of his cologne. It calmed you down almost immediately, and enough for you to ask your question.

"Can you...uh...help me while I'm in there?" you nervously asked. He raised his eyebrow a little bit at the question. "I-It just hurts to turn a little and I need to reach some spots on my back." He looked you over while he deliberated. "I don't wanna sound rude or anything but...you sure you're okay with me....seeing you?" he whispered that last little part. "I'm wearing a bathing suit under here, I don't mind you seeing that at least," you replied, anticipating his concern. "Oh....okay, yeah sure," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

You dropped your towel and placed it hanging over the sink. The black bikini you were wearing covered enough of you, but still allowed all your injuries to be visible. That first step into the tub was heavenly, the heat rolling down off your spine with a slight, but welcome tinge of pain. You closed your eyes and melted down into the water, Bob smiling at your relaxation. "God, I needed this," you breathed out. Bob walked up closer to you, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You sat there for a minute, body absorbing the heat and releasing the built up tension in your muscles from the day. Once you finally opened your eyes, you found Bob's eyes grazing over your body. "What is it?" you asked. A stupid grin found its way to his face, as he readjusted himself to begin helping you. "Nothing, don't worry."

Bob took a nearby loofa and his body wash, about to squeeze some onto it before you put your hand out. "This is gonna sound weird....can you use your hands?" You didn't bother giving an explanation, it wouldn't change the implications of that request. Bob gave a little nod. "Wait just, give me a sec." He quickly got up out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sat there within your own thoughts. Fuck, was that too much? you thought to yourself, praying you didn't scare him off.

After a few anxious minutes, Bob opened up the door, leaving you with a sight that made your heart stop.

He had traded in his pajamas for a pair of swim shorts. You had to fight to keep your jaw from going slack at the sight of him without a shirt on. He wasn't kidding, that serum really did do a lot of work.

First of all, you had seen his arm muscles before, frequently on display whenever he would wear a short sleeve shirt. But paired with his perfectly plumped chest, carved abs, and toned thighs, it was enough to kill a horse. Worst of all however, was his swim boxers, with a very flawed detail: they were about two sizes too small, and you couldn't tell if Bob was aware or not, but you could see it. It was bigger than you thought. You would need a tranquilizer to hide the blush on your face right now.

"I figured it'd be easier to just get in and help, and this is my only pair of trunks.....is it too much?" So he didn't know, huh. You swallowed back any urges you had and sat up a little bit more in the tub. "No, you're fine," you said, pushing your body back to make room for him in the small tub. He shuffled up and gently placed his legs in one by one, sinking in in front of you.

Bob took the body wash again, pouring some and lathering it between his hands. He motioned you to turn around so he could get your back area. Your back showed him about five scattered cuts and scratches and two large bruises by your lats. You could hear his breath shake a bit as he got closer to you. Naturally, you straightened out your back for him to work with a better canvas.

A sigh instinctively came out of your mouth when his hands came down on you, lathering the soap over your skin. His hands worked into you like putty, spreading the bubbles out evenly onto you. The callouses scratched onto your skin, and you felt a deep heat brewing into your chest. It only grew stronger when his fingers started digging into your muscles. Pain oozed out and away as his thumbs worked out the knots in your upper back. You had to bring a hand up to your mouth to keep a pleasurably moan from slipping out.

The deeper his fingers got into you, the more your body began to twitch, itching for more. The water sloshed around a little when you began to move back into him. And thats when you felt it. Your breath hitched when you caught it. He was achingly big, and you could tell by the throbbing you felt on your lower back. He must've noticed you felt it, since his fingers stopped moving. The two of you sat there for a minute in a hot tension.

Eventually, he picked up a cup sitting outside of the tub, filled it with the bathwater, and poured the soap off of your back. Putting it down, he inched slightly closer to you, his hands finding their way again back to your hips like so many times before. "Tell me where it hurts," he whispered into your ear. You tried to shake out your shivers and be honest with him, your mind needing him in one place but your body wanting him everywhere.

You took the safe route. You needed to keep control of yourself. As long as you could at least.

You pointed to a spot along your spine where one of the bruises lay. "Bend forward a little bit," he spoke, in that low, sultry voice again, almost commanding you. You listened. You moved. But unfortunately, you couldn't keep the moan inside you anymore when his lips grazed and kissed over the bruise. You could keep it quiet enough for him to, hopefully, not hear it however.

Your body adjusted and moved to fit him as his lips trailed up your spine, and eventually to the nape of your neck. He sucked on the tender skin, desperation in its trail. Before he could get too carried away though, he pulled himself off of you. His hot breath stuck to your back, as he took a moment to splash some of the steaming water onto his face. After clearing his throat, he asked you to turn back around and face him, which you did of course.

Finding his face, you could finally see the display of his emotions. The main one: a drunken look in his eyes to desperately hide a growing lust. You could tell. It was the same look in yours. Trying to continue with the bath, Bob took some more body was and drizzled it out onto your arms and upper chest. Sure, you could reach those parts of yourself fine, but what's wrong with letting a man take care of you every once in a while. And if this was how he was gonna do it, you'd be glad to give in.

He massaged the soap into your skin again, relaxing your tense arm muscles, a little gentler around your chest and collarbone area. He pressed a deep kiss into your clavicle scar, a tick for him at this point. His eyes stayed down on you, examining the way your skin fit onto your body. You brought your hand to meet his, currently pressing gentle circles onto your tricep. His eyes found a nice spot, staring at your lips, with you back at his. Trembles started to infect his hands and you could even see a slight quiver stain his lip.

"Does it hurt...anywhere here?" he gasped out. Taking the opportunity, you slowly brought your finger up to the tiniest cut you had on your chin. Smiling, he went in, almost taking your entire chin into his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his mouth moved to press sloppy kisses into your jawline. But that's all where he stayed. And you needed more than that.

Enough with the teasing, you let go of his neck and took his face in your hands, pulling his mouth away from you. He looked at you, beautiful, deep blue puppy eyes mixed with questioning and fear. "Do you remember what I told you Bob? When I was helping you get ready for the conference?" The fear left his eyes, as he realized what you were playing with here. "Remind me...." You smirked at his words. "When are you ever gonna stop being afraid of me?" you asked, eyes glued to his lips. He dropped his head and let out a defeated laugh. "It's never been you that I'm scared of....it's always been myself," he said, lifting his head back up and closer to yours. "And why's that?" The corner of his mouth lifted up as his hand went to cup your jaw, caressing it with his thumb. "Because I have to keep myself from tearing off my clothes and taking you in the living room each time you walk through that elevator."

Before you could respond to what he said, your body started moving on its own, slamming your lips into his, sloshing water everywhere. The kiss you shared was needy, hungry, and slow. Different from the ones he left littered over your body in the past. What surprised you the most about it was what fueled it. This was not a lustful kiss, which is what you had expected from him. This kiss was filled with a pure, tender, and firing love the two of you have silently shared for each other for the past few months.

His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer into him and onto his laugh, where his raging erection made itself more apparent by the second. "You need me that bad, huh?" you teased, breaking away from the makeout and grinding your clothed cunt against it. Bob nodded profusely, leaning back into you to chase your lips, which you pulled back from. You bit your lip and smiled, wooed by his desperation for you. "Someone's excited, huh?" you joked. "Well, I'd rather not get waterlogged here, so how about we dry off, get these swimsuits off, and...." you leaned close to his ear. "...you can take me on your bed any way you want, how's that sound loverboy?" you bit down onto his earlobe

Bob let out a whispered moan and dropped his head into your shoulder, pressing soft kissed into it. "Yes, please," he replied. Before getting up though, he pulled you into a close hug, which you returned gladly. Bob may have a secret, shameful side you didn't know about, but at the end of the day, you couldn't take the lover out of him.

The two of you stepped out of the bathtub, drained the water, and took your towels to dry yourselves off. Once you were dried, you opened the bathroom door, releasing the steamy air into the rest of Bob room. The cold tinged both your skin, as you walked hand in hand to his bed. You were first to undress, slipping off your bikini bottoms and untying your top off. Bob could've sworn his life flashed before his eyes at that moment, as he admired your beautiful body. He quickly kicked off his trunks, allowing his cock to finally spring out to life. He playfully ran up and tackled you onto his bed, kissing into you neck as you let out playful giggles.

His mouth eventually found its way up to yours, as the two of you slipped each other's tongues into your mouths. His hands gently swept you underneath him on the bed, still careful with your injury. "I-fuck, I wanna taste you," he gasped out while you sucked marks onto his neck. "Do it," you whispered into his neck, giving it a little nibble.

He giggled to himself, as his mouth traced kissed down your neck, sternum, and stomach, all the way down to your hips. You lifted your head to look down at him. He smiled up at you as his hands grabbed into your thighs, bending your legs up. His thumb grazed along your leaking folds, already sending shivers into you. "You're so....beautiful," you could hear him whisper just before leaving his first of many soft kisses on your slit. His tongue slowly worked itself over your clit, as one of your hands found its way down into the roots of his hair.

For leverage, you pulled slight tugs onto his hair, which drove Bob bananas. Each pull only drove him further into your pussy, absorbing his own whines and moans. His tongue worked over each of your lips, memorizing the way it made his taste buds react. You tasted so good, he could sit here eating you for hours. Looking down at the sight underneath you only pushed you closer to the edge. His messy, slightly damp curls intertwined with your fingers, as he sloppily ate your pussy, juice dripping down the sides of his mouth. Game changer moment was when he brought in his digits, curling his pointer and middle finger into your swollen cunt.

An exaggerated moan of his name left your mouth, as your hips buckled into his hand, begging for more. "C'mon, you're doing so good for me baby, keep it up," he spoke into your inner thigh, leaving a little love bite in there that left you biting your tongue. As his fingers worked inside you, you wriggled over the sheets, trying to chase an oncoming high. "You're so perfect sweetheart, so perfect for me," he continuously praised.

The twitch in your lower stomach grew more powerful with the seconds, as fingers continued to hit your walls perfect, his teeth grazed your clit, and hot breath washed over you. "Bob, I-I," you started to moan out. "Do it for me baby, come for me here."

As the high washed over your body, a final moan rushed out, paired with another hip buckle and legs a twitching mess as Bob kissed into your pussy. Your juice coated all over his fingers, which added more growth to his member, if that was even possible right now. His fingers slid perfectly out of your aching pussy and into his own mouth, as he got a better taste for you. A smile curled its way onto his mouth as he sat back on his knees, watching you come down from your high.

Bob couldn't help but crawl back up to you. He had to watch this moment with his own eyes. Your heavy breaths hit his face as he leaned on his elbows to perfectly lay over him. Your cheeks glowed a heavy pink as you came down from your orgasm. "Was that good?" he asks. You couldn't help but let out at laugh at the question. Good? Did he see what happened just now? "You're adorable," you validated, love-drunk eyes gazing into his own.

He let a breath out of his nose, and dropped his whole body weight down onto you. You cried out in a fake pain and your body absorbed his heat into you. "Get off, you're killing me!" you joked. He shook his head vigorously. "No, you gotta do it yourself," he played back. You giggled and used whatever strength you had left over to try and push him off. To no avail of course. "Alright, you gotta help just a little, you're pure muscle sweetie." Bob sighed and lifted his body off of you just enough for you to roll him to the other side of the bed.

Before he could move again, you jumped on top of him, placing your own dead weight on top of him now. "You see, I'd play along now, but I'm scared I'd toss you off the bed," he said. True, best not to play games like this with someone who has super strength. "Ugh, no fair," you complained, dropping your head into his neck. You heard his awkwardly adorable laugh, making your heart soar, as he scratched the back of your head.

"C'mere, let me see you," he asked gently. You lifted your head up, a fake frown plastered on your face. The act didn't last long though when you saw his face.

The way he looked at you right now was the way girls had dreamed about since they were kids. His eyes softened with pure adoration for you, with his mouth curled into the dumbest grin. He spoke your name in a question. "Yeah?" He brought his hand up to cup your jaw, which you nuzzled your cheek into as his thumb traced over your lips. "I....I think..." he trailed off. "What is it?" His smile turned slightly more serious. "I think I love you." He paused. "I know I do."

If it weren't for his body heat grounding you into the moment, you would've sworn you were dreaming right now. Everything you've ever wanted was right here. It was all in him. It was him.

"I know I love you too."

The giddy look on his face could set you free, as both his hands grabbed your cheeks to pull you into his kiss stained lips. The two of you continued to kiss and roll all over the bed, as you prepared to continue the rest of your love filled night.

~~~~~~

Sun rays streamed through the breaks in the blinds of Bob's room. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the brightness as you awoke. Wrapped up in his sheets, blooming with his scent, you began to remember the dreamlike events of the night before. You turned to the other side of the bed, and there he was.

Like a painting, Bob laid next to you, still off in his hopefully pleasant dreams. Loose strand of hair fell in front of his sleeping face, his mouth slightly agape to breathe, still swollen lips. In fact, all of your souvenirs from the night before laid over him: scattered hickeys along his neck and shoulders, and nail scratches peeking over from his upper back. It was perfect. He was perfect.

His breath readjusted as he began to stir a bit, and finally, his lashes fluttered open to see you. A childlike smile painted your face as you saw his sleepy eyes adjust to you. "Good morning sleepyhead," you pressed into the tip of his nose as you kissed it. He smiled an eyes closed one to you. "Morning honey." You had found out last night how much of a pet-name user Bob was. You didn't mind at all. It only helped seal the "it feels like i'm in a movie" idea for you. "How'd you sleep," he asked with his eyes still closed. "Good, great even," you hummed. "And you?" His eyes opened and he leaned in closer to you to kiss you silly. "Best in years, honest truth."

After some morning talk, Bob got up to go to the kitchen, leaving you with some extra minutes for sleep. When he returned, it was with a plate of breakfast on a tray just for the two of you. It took a miracle for you not to jump over the bed and onto him then and there. The plate for you included all your favorites: blueberry Eggos, orange slices, and eggs. These weren't your usual eggs though. "I know you like them burnt, but by the time I remembered, I had taken them out of the pan and these were the last two," he apologized.

You inspected the eggs with your fork. It scared you a little, but you'd rather risk a stomach ache than hurt Bob's feelings right now. And plus, it was time to finally grow up. Taking them onto your fork, you took a deep breath, and put them in your mouth.

Chew, chew, chew. Swallow.

God, these were so much better than rubbery, burnt eggs. "These are so fucking good Bob, oh my god," you salivated. He smiled that dumb grin and climbed into bed next to you, as the two of you continued the rest of your morning together. It was nice to know you didn't have to burn your eggs anymore. The other side was better than you could've imagined.

a.n: AND THATS IT i hope you liked it lol. this is by FARRRRR the longest fic i've ever written and it took like a week and a half to write rip so i hope you all enjoyed it. please leave a note or interact if you did, i'd really appreciate it. alright thank you so much again, catch you on the next one BYEEEEEE

[em1i2a3]

The Greatest Light Is The Greatest Shade

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Fem!Reader

Summary: You return back to the compound a week early from an initial two week-long mission, only to find Bob asleep in your bed.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because Bob and everyone else are in this story. Fluff and Smut, that’s it, that’s the tweet lol Oh and also Reader and Bob have an established friends with benefits relationship.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it before you tap it…or don’t I mean…All up to y’all lol), Biting/Marking, Praise/Worship Kinks (because sometimes we all need that), Bob gets a little dominant in this fic, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Scratching, Choking (if you squint, it’s not extreme though, like just holding), Breast Worship.

Author's Note: This is like a combination of two requests because it made a lot of sense to just combine them in a nice little wrap. Both were from anon users so if these were your requests, thank you! (Requests were: Bob getting a confidence boost in bed, and Bob liking the act of marking the reader/biting the reader)

Word Count: 9,119

You and Yelena weren’t supposed to be back at the compound for another week.

But missions had a way of unraveling differently when the two of you were left to your own devices–strategic, relentless, and just a little bit impatient. You didn’t linger. You didn’t overcomplicate. You didn’t sleep much, either, which probably explained the record time.

You’d cleared the final objective in less than forty-eight hours, ghosted the cleanup crew, and caught the first unmarked flight back to the States before anyone could slap a new assignment on your desk.

Efficiency had its perks, and so did chronic sleep issues.

Because the truth was–if you’d stayed another night in that motel with its scratchy sheets and the whine of traffic bleeding through the windows, you might’ve clawed your skin off. You hadn’t slept more than two hours in a row the entire time you were gone. The bed was too stiff and the air was too stale. You’d tried your usual tricks–white noise, stretching, sleeping pills stolen from the med kit–but nothing worked.

Your body just didn’t settle when you weren’t home.

And it wasn’t even just about your own bed–though you missed the way the pillow fluffed perfectly around your head, the subtle citrus-and-cotton scent of your detergent lingering in the sheets, the familiar groove in the mattress where your weight naturally settled.

It was about his bed, too.

Bob’s.

Because the only real, uninterrupted sleep you’d gotten in the last few months had been tangled up in him–skin warm, limbs heavy, his breath soft against your neck as he pulled you closer and laced your fingers with his beneath the covers. You remembered the way he kissed the dip beneath your ear just before he fell asleep, how he always muttered something quiet against your bare shoulder, like he didn’t want you to know he needed this as much as you did.

But you did know. Because you needed it too.

That was the problem with the whole friends-with-benefits arrangement–it had rules, boundaries, expectations. But somewhere along the way, you stopped following the fine print. Somewhere along the way, you started looking forward to him more than the orgasm. You started memorizing the shape of his hands, the way he curled into you when he thought you were asleep, the sound he made when you ran your fingers through his hair just right. The pillow talk that both of you would have post sex, tangled up within one another–joking about another round before giving in.

You missed him.

Not just the sex, not just the heat of his mouth or the way he whispered your name when he came–you missed all of him. His nervous smiles. His soft voice. His quiet steadiness. You missed the way he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you wanted him back. The way he understood that the only reason you weren’t in a relationship with him was because you hated the pressure that it came with, and how you just wanted to be–because labels just complicated things.

And you hadn’t told anyone–at least not willingly. But Yelena knew. She always knew. The girl could sniff out repressed feelings like a bloodhound, and her raised eyebrow and pointed remarks whenever Bob entered a room had gotten more pointed with time. And Bucky…Bucky didn’t say anything, but he watched. You could feel it in the weight of his gaze when you sat next to Bob at the kitchen counter, or when you reappeared from ‘relaxing in your bedroom’ wearing a hoodie that definitely wasn’t yours.

Still. None of them had said a word. Not directly at least, and the both of you were immensely grateful for that.

The elevator doors hissed open at 2:04 a.m., depositing you and yelena into the compound’s dim, and mostly-silent common room.

The air inside was nice and cool against your burning hot skin, it was crisp with the faint scent of fresh laundry. Everything felt still, as if the whole building itself had decided to turn in for the night completely.

Except for Bucky Barnes, apparently.

He was sunk deep into the corner of the oversized grey sectional, one arm slung over the back, the other nursing a steaming mug of coffee–you could tell because of the lingering odor of the roasted beans that stuck to the air. He didn’t even flinch at the sound of your boots–just glanced up, eyes cutting over the rim of his mug as the glow of the television flickered across his face. The screen was playing something low-budget, or at least it looked like it–judging by the terrible stick on mustaches and the VHS tracking lines.

”You’re back early,” Bucky said, sipping from his mug.

“No, you’re just up late,” Yelena shot back, dropping her bag on the ground before veering toward the kitchen without missing a beat. Your suit–a cross between tactical armor and a flight suit– creaked with each step you took, the joints still tight from hours of wear. You felt grimy and stiff, a little windburned, and very much like a human shaped knot of fatigue.

”What’d they do, drop you into a war zone or the sun?” Bucky muttered, looking you over. You gave him a half-smile.

”Maybe a little bit of both, it was terrible over there.” You replied, turning your attention to the television.

Yelena yanked the fridge open, her movements sharp with leftover adrenaline. She pulled something out, and tossed one blindly at you without even checking if you were paying attention.

You caught it without turning, fingers wrapping around the chilled plastic in mid-air.

”Still got it,” Bucky said with a low chuckle, grabbing the bowl of popcorn beside him as Yelena walked around you and dropped herself onto the open space he had made for her.

”I never lost it Barnes.” You replied, cracking open the cherry flavoured electrolyte drink, hearing it fizzle. Yelena chugged half of it in one go, before reaching for the remote that was on the armrest.

”What is this?” She asked, pressing a few buttons absentmindedly, flipping through the menu with obvious disdain, “This is what you stay up late watching? Are you eighty-five?”

”No, I’m a hundred and ten thank you.” Bucky shot back, yanking the remote from her hands, “It’s also a classic.” He mumbled.

”It had bad editing and worse acting,” She retorted, lunging across him to snatch the remote again.

You smirked, shaking your head as they dissolved into bickering over how insufferable Yelena is when she hasn’t gotten enough sleep. The whole room felt hazy, soft-edged in that post-mission, too-tired-to-function way, but it also was safe and familiar, and you were grateful to be home.

You adjusted your bag over your shoulder, taking a sip from your bottle, before turning toward the hall.

”Where you headed?” Bucky called after you, half-distracted by Yelena’s attempt to reach his outstretched hand that had the remote in it.

”Shower, and sleep. Maybe pretend to be dead for a few hours.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Yelena chirped, before throwing herself over Bucky who let out a yelp, as you left him to his own demise.

Your mind was already elsewhere. You were thinking about Bob.

Mulling over the fact that this was the longest you’d been apart–almost a full week without seeing him, touching him, or hearing him. Without the little comforts you weren’t supposed to be attached to. His voice low in the dark, his fingers tracing letters into your stomach and asking what he was spelling. The stupid way he whispered your name before nuzzling himself into your neck and peppering kisses along your skin.

You had planned on surprising him in the morning. Maybe knock once on his door, and slip inside without saying anything. Maybe you’d crawl into his bed beside him and wake him up with your mouth on his neck just to see if he’d pull you in close and wrap those long muscular arms around you like he always did.

Because a week was just too long, and you’d missed him more than you were ready to admit.

You padded softly down the hall, the compound’s hush closing in behind you like a slow exhale. Even the low chatter of Yelena and Bucky was swallowed by the distance, replaced by the click of your boots and the faint buzz of the overhead fluorescents.

Your hand grazed the cool metal of your doorknob.

You were still smiling to yourself, still replaying the plan in your head—how you’d toss your gear on the floor, shower off the grime of the last two days, slip into something barely-there, and sneak into Bob’s room just after sunrise. You’d press your lips to the warm edge of his jaw and whisper something teasing just to feel the way he twitched beneath you, sleepy and flustered and already halfway gone before he could even open his eyes.

You turned the knob and pushed the door open, and froze dead in your tracks.

The first thing that hit you was the heat. Your room always ran a few degrees warmer than the rest of the compound–partly because of the old HVAC in this wing, and partly because you liked it that way. It was cozy.

The second thing that got you was the sight of Bob.

He was asleep on his stomach, sprawled across the middle of your bed like he had slowly melted into it. His broad shoulders stretched across the mattress one arm tucked under your pillow, the other draped loosely across it like he had purposely fallen asleep like this–with his face smushed into the corner of it. The sheets had twisted around his hips–barely clinging to the edge of the dark grey boxer briefs he was wearing, the elastic just visible beneath the soft crease of his lower back. His hair was a mess of light brown, mussed-up locks, pointing out every which way like he had run his fingers through them a few times.

The soft glow of your bedside lamp–the kind that automatically flicked on to its lowest setting when you entered–cast him in warm amber. His skin looked almost sun-kissed in it, flushed faintly at the back of his neck and the slope of his spine. He was breathing slow and deep, so still and peaceful it almost felt wrong to look at him too long.

Your hand was still curled around the doorknob, but your heart had already stepped into the room.

Bob was here. Asleep in your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And something about that–about the ease of it–unraveled you more than anything else had all week.

You slowly eased the door shut behind you, careful not to let the latch click too loudly, and took one silent step inside. The scent hit you next. Not just the familiar blend of your detergent and body wash–but something softer, earthier.

Sage.

You turned your head slightly, and there it was–your little ceramic humidifier, the one shaped like a curled-up fox, softly misting by the dresser. The blue glow around its base was steady and calm, casting soft shadows across the wall behind it. You hadn’t used it in weeks. But now it was on. Filled. Set to the exact setting you always used when you had a headache or couldn’t sleep.

Your brows knit gently together.

Your gaze drifted lower–to the corner of the room where you normally threw your clean laundry in a pile you meant to fold but never did. But the pile looked…Different. Smaller. Neater. Not folded, exactly, but gathered. Arranged in the exact order you usually pulled from. Undergarments on top. Tanks and sleep shorts just beneath. Even your favorite oversized tee–the threadbare Stark Expo 2019 one–was sitting on top, freshly laundered and smelling faintly of lavender-softener.

”Well…I’ll be damned.” You whispered to yourself, because you didn’t remember doing all of that before you left. You slowly shrugged your bag from your shoulder and set it down near the desk, careful not to make a sound. Your eyes lingered on the little details around the room–how the cord for your phone charger had been looped up neatly instead of left in a nest on the floor, how your glass of water had been refilled with ice and placed beside your nightstand book, how even the trash can had been emptied.

He hadn’t just been waiting for you.

He’d been looking after you.

You toed off your boots and unzipped your suit with aching, quiet fingers, each movement deliberate. You peeled it off your body, layer by layer, until you were left in just a sports bra and a thin pair of cotton briefs. You crossed the room slowly, the floor cool under your bare feet, and slipped into the en suite with a practiced ease, fingers grazing the wall as you flicked on the light.

You immediately noticed the warmth–thick and faintly humid, clinging to the corners of the tile like the room had been wrapped in a blanket not long ago. It smelled like steam and soap and something else. Something sweeter.

You stepped towards the shower and breathed it in more fully.

Raspberry and basil.

Your shampoo. It was a weird scent combo, one you’d picked half on a whim and half because it somehow stuck in your head every time you used it–bright and green, but soft, with just enough fruit to make someone lean in and ask what it was. You hadn’t brought any with you on the mission.

But now… it was definitely lower than you remembered leaving it.

Your fingers brushed the bottle on the corner shelf. Same with the conditioner. Same with the body wash. All just slightly more empty than they should’ve been. The labels slick with residual condensation, freshly handled.

Your gaze flicked to the sink.

There were tiny flecks of stubble around the drain–barely noticeable unless you were looking for them. Not quite enough to be careless. Just enough to suggest he’d shaved in a rush and hadn’t cleaned up every last piece. Bob always got a little flustered around mirrors. Too many thoughts. Too many selves. You didn’t blame him for not scrubbing them all away.

You leaned on the counter, steadying yourself, and your eyes landed on something else.

His toothbrush, tucked neatly beside yours, with the bristles still wet. You stood there in the bathroom for a long moment, staring at the two toothbrushes resting side by side like they’d always been meant to share that ceramic cup.

Bob hadn’t just been sleeping in your room.

He’d been living in it.

Showering here. Shaving here. Moving around your space with the kind of familiarity you only afforded yourself. Like he hadn’t just been borrowing your room–he’d been waiting in it. Curling himself into the folds you left behind. Slipping quietly into the corners of your routine without disturbing the rhythm, like he’d always known how to match your pace.

And maybe that was what made your chest ache the most.

The realization that he must’ve missed you just as much as you missed him.

Maybe more.

You reached for the shower handle before the weight of it could settle too deep in your bones. The pipes didn’t groan like they normally did, the water just rushed out hot and steady from the spout, steam blooming instantly against the mirror. You peeled off your sports bra and underwear, letting the warmth wrap around your tired limbs as you stepped under the stream.

You tilted your head back, letting the water run down your scalp and over your face, washing away the grime of the last forty-eight hours in one long exhale. Your fingers found the raspberry and basil shampoo, and you worked it into your hair, the scent unfurling in the steam like something sacred. You scrubbed until your scalp tingled, until your shoulders started to loosen under the weight of water and familiarity.

Then came the conditioner, and the bodywash. Each ritual was a little slower than usual, like you were moving through molasses. Your body still felt heavy, but your mind was beginning to quiet. The mission was over. You were home. And Bob was here.

You turned off the water and stepped onto the warm tile, steam curling off your skin in soft ribbons. The mirror was almost completely fogged now, but you wiped a space clear with your palm, squinting slightly at your reflection.

Right at your hip you could see the faint marks of where Bob had bit before you had left, he had said it was something for you to look at when you wanted to think of him. He had this weird thing nowadays where he liked seeing and making little marks on you so you thought about him more than you already did.

A few fresh cuts traced the edge of your shoulder and collarbone–scrapes from the last scuffle, nothing major. A deeper bruise bloomed under your ribs, the kind you’d probably feel more tomorrow. You touched it lightly, then imagined what Bob’s face would look like when he saw it.

He wouldn’t say much. He’d just look. Quiet, brows drawn. Probably reach for you and press his hand there with too much care, like he thought touching it too firmly might break something else.

You grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body, using a smaller one to pat your hair dry until it stopped dripping. Then you fluffed it with your fingers–messy and soft, but clean–and stepped out into the bedroom.

He was still sleeping, curled around your pillow, the sheet tugged a little lower now, just enough to reveal the defined line of his waist and the way his spine curved like a comma. You let your eyes linger for a breath longer, then padded quietly to the corner of the room where he’d left your clothes.

The sleep shorts were exactly where he knew you liked them. The old blue t-shirt–the one that had started out as his and somehow ended up permanently yours–was still warm from the dryer.

You slipped the cotton over your head and let it fall just past your hips, then tugged the shorts on. The waistband sat soft against your skin, familiar and easy.

You stood there for a second, just breathing, before folding up your towels and stacking them neatly on the edge of your desk.

Without another sound, you padded across the room and eased onto the bed beside him, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. The familiar dip of it welcomed your weight, and you tucked yourself close to his side, your knees brushing the outside of his thigh.

For a long moment, you just watched him.

His lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks, and there was a tiny crease between his brows like even in sleep he was thinking too hard. The slope of his nose was soft from this angle, and the corner of his mouth was slack, open just enough to let out the faintest exhale.

You leaned forward slowly, and bit his shoulder, gently.

Right on that spot you knew was sensitive–where the muscle met bone, where he always twitched a little whenever your lips lingered there too long.

“Mmph–Ow?” He groaned, more confused than hurt, shifting with a sluggish twist beneath your mouth.

You grinned and pressed a soft kiss to the spot. “Hey, Robert.”

Bob flinched at the sound of his full name, then jolted upright halfway before fully processing–head lifting, eyes wide and blinking blearily through the low amber light. His arm buckled slightly beneath him as he tried to catch himself, sheet slipping further down his waist.

“Wh–What the hell–Y-You’re—you’re back?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

You laughed, hushed and breathy, and cupped his shoulder to steady him. “Careful, you’re about to fall off the bed.”

He blinked again, jaw slack, still halfway tangled in the blankets and now completely upright. “You–you weren’t supposed to b-be back ‘til Friday.”

“I wasn’t,” You murmured, leaning in closer, brushing your nose along the line of his neck. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

His breath hitched as your lips ghosted over his pulse point.

“Jesus,” He whispered, his hand finally rising–tentatively–to cup your waist like he needed to ground himself in the fact that you were real and he wasn’t hallucinating that you were here. You kissed his shoulder again, then nudged your nose against his ear

“Missed me?” Bob let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh–still breathless, still flustered.

“I–I’ve been sleeping in your room like some sad l-lost dog for four nights.” You smiled against his skin.

“I noticed.”

“I wasn’t trying to–like–move in or anything, I just–your pillow still smelled like you and I–” He cut himself off with a quiet groan and buried his face in your neck. “God, this is embarrassing.” You smoothed your hand along his spine, fingertips dragging lightly through the dip of his lower back.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” He went still at that, and then returned his eyes to you, his blue irises shimmering in the dim lighting.

”Yeah?” You smirked, nodding.

”Very sweet.” Bob’s cheeks flushed with that familiar, helpless shade of pink, as he ducked his head slightly, eyes dropping, but you reached for him before he could retreat into himself again. Your fingers curled gently under his smooth chin, coaxing his gaze back to yours, and then, with the softest pressure, you turned his face fully toward you.

His eyes searched yours for the briefest second–barely a breath–before you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rushed or careless or clumsy. It was deliberate. Slow at first. Lips brushing lips, once–then again. The kind of kiss that says I remember how to do this. I missed this. I missed you. You angled your mouth against his, deepening it with a quiet sigh that tasted like relief and heat and the week you’d spent without him.

And Bob–God, Bob melted.

Like every bone in his body gave up the fight.

He kissed you back with this kind of overwhelmed gentleness, like he didn’t know how he’d gone a week without this and now he never wanted to let go. His hands found your hips–tentative at first, then a little more sure. He took the pillow and threw it off the side of the bed, before tugging you closer across the bed until you were flush against him, your thigh slotted between his legs.

His lips parted, and yours followed.

Tongues brushing, slow and wet and warm, the kiss deepening with each pass. You felt his breath stutter against your cheek when you nipped at his lower lip, felt the quiet rumble of a groan that built low in his chest and echoed into your mouth.

You threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging gently–just enough for him to gasp into you.

And then he pulled back, barely. His forehead resting against yours, his mouth still parted, pupils blown wide.

“D-Don’t you wanna get some sleep?” He asked, voice rough and frayed at the edges. “You’ve gotta be–exhausted.” You gave a slow smile, your lips still ghosting his.

”I’ll sleep once I’ve got your hands all over me again.” Bob barely registered the words before instinct overtook him.

Your breath had just finished ghosting over his lips when his hands suddenly clutched your hips tighter, and he moved–rolling fully over you with a low, needy groan, pressing you flat against the mattress in one fluid, desperate motion. The way his body stretched over yours, warm and solid and half-draped in nothing but those threadbare grey boxer briefs, made your breath catch with something between a gasp and a laugh.

He was already panting softly, like he hadn’t realized how much he needed this until the second it was offered. His mouth crushed against yours, wetter now, hungrier–kisses landing messily on your lips, your cheek, your jaw, like he couldn’t decide where to start. His hands roamed beneath your shirt without hesitation, dragging up from your hips to your waist, thumbs skating along your ribs like he knew exactly where you wanted to be touched–because he did.

“Y-You’re too dressed,” He mumbled against your mouth, voice ragged and impatient. “How’re y-you still dressed?”

You giggled, tilting your chin back as his lips moved down your neck. “You’re not exactly making it easy to take anything off.”

“’Cause I missed you,” He whined, shameless now, fingers curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging it up in soft, slow inches. “God, I-I missed you and y-you smell like–” You ran your hands down his back, nails grazing his spine.

“Like my shampoo that you’ve been using?” You teased breathlessly, interrupting him. Bob froze for half a heartbeat, then nuzzled deeper into your neck with a groan that was far too pleased.

“Told you I missed you,” He whispered. “You were everywhere in this room but not in it and I just–crap, I needed something.”

His hands slid fully under the shirt now, palms spreading wide over your stomach, smoothing over old scars, faint bruises, soft skin. And then, as gentle as ever, he pulled the shirt up and over your head with one smooth motion and tossed it aside onto the floor.

Lit only by the bedside lamp, his eyes roamed your bare skin like he hadn’t seen it in years. His hands followed his gaze, mapping every familiar slope like he was making sure nothing had changed while you were gone. He cupped your chest with a low, smooth sigh, brushing his thumbs gently over your nipples until you arched into him.

“Still like that?” He murmured, teasing and a little breathless.

“Always,” You whispered. Bob leaned in slow–eyes still dark and wide, lips slightly wet and parted–and pressed a kiss right between the swell of your breasts, leaving a little saliva mark. Then he put another just a little lower, and another.

Your breath hitched as his mouth found the delicate skin at the top curve of your breast, and he sucked gently–just enough for you to feel the sting start to bloom beneath his tongue. His hands cradled you, thumbs brushing under your ribs as he worked his way over the flesh, kissing, mouthing, biting just lightly until you were arching beneath him.

Then he took your nipple into his mouth.

A low, broken moan spilled from him the second his tongue flicked over it–like he couldn’t believe how good it felt to be this close again. He sucked slowly, then a little harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your back bow and your fingers tangle in his hair. His hips rutted forward–slow and clumsy at first, then more deliberate. You felt the hot, heavy pressure of his cock through his briefs as it ground against your core, the friction heady and frustrating in the best way.

“God…” He gasped against your skin, mouthing down the side of your breast now. “I-It’s like y-you’ve been gone for y-years.”

His breath was ragged now, teeth sinking into the underside of your breast to leave another mark–deeper this time, and you could feel it purpling as he pulled off. You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.

He finally pulled back, lips swollen, pupils blown, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His gaze roamed down your body again–hungry, frantic, and impossibly tender all at once–until it landed on your hip. His thumb skated over the spot.

”I-It’s gone,” He murmured, almost to himself. Your brows furrowed faintly, pushing his hair out of his face.

”What is?”

“The mark I left.” He glanced up at you, a little shy, a little sheepish. “The one I bit into you before you left. I thought maybe it’d still be there…”

You let out a soft laugh, cupping his hot and flushed cheek. “Well, yeah, it healed. It’s not like you can’t give me another one.”

That made his breath hitch.

His eyes darkened just slightly as they dropped back down to your body. “Yeah?” He murmured.

You nodded slowly. “I liked looking at it when I missed you.”

That shy smirk tugged at his lips, the kind that said he was blushing way harder on the inside than he was letting show. Then, without another word, he slid down your body, pressing a few scattered kisses along your stomach until he reached the dip of your hip. He nudged your sleep shorts just enough to expose the skin he wanted, the cotton bunched under his thumbs as he settled between your thighs, his breath fanning warm over your bare skin.

“I’ll make you another one,” He whispered, lips hovering. “Same spot. So you remember.”

The words were almost respectful–but the way he said “remember” made your stomach clench. Like he wanted to brand the memory into you.

Then his mouth sealed over your hip with purpose.

You felt the wet press of his tongue first, lapping softly at the curve of your hip. Then his lips closed over the spot, sucking gently at first–just enough to make your breath catch–before his teeth scraped down with delicate precision. A faint sting bloomed beneath his mouth as he bit just a little harder, pulling the skin between his lips and sucking until heat flared beneath the surface. His hands held you steady by your hips, thumbs pressing into the sensitive dips beside the bones as his mouth worked the mark deeper.

It wasn’t just about the pain–it was the way his tongue soothed the sting after, the way he breathed against you like he was trying to worship this piece of you. Your fingers slid into his hair, jaw slack, body arching into his hold as a slow whimper slipped from your throat. Just like him you enjoyed the process, it was something Bob found out he took pride in doing, it was something only the two of you knew about and that was just scripture at this point.

Then, finally, he pulled back.

Your breath stuttered. His eyes were glassy with heat, lips slick and swollen, pupils wide.

“L-Look,” He whispered hoarsely, leaning aside just enough for you to lift your head and follow the trace of his finger. The mark was already starting to darken–a perfect bloom of bruised skin, flushed deep and raw at the center, fading at the edges like a watercolor stain. Right over your hipbone, exactly where the last one had been.

Your mouth curved into a smug, breathless smile.

And Bob looked absolutely wrecked by it.

You could feel him throbbing against your thigh–hard, heavy, leaking precum in his boxer briefs–and you swore his pupils dilated even more when he saw you smile. His hands trembled just slightly on your hips, the press of his fingers tightening like he wanted to sink into you then and there.

Then, his voice–raspy, shy, so damn sweet it made your chest ache:

“C-Can I take these off?” His fingers tugged lightly at the waistband of your sleep shorts. “W-Wanna…Wanna u-use my mouth. I mean–on you. Go down on you. I–God, I just wanna taste you, I missed you so bad I–” You nodded before he could combust, your hand cupping his cheek again as your thumb brushed across his flushed skin.

“Yes,” You murmured. “Please, Bob.” He exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. His hands slid lower, slow and reverent, thumbs catching beneath the waistband as he eased your shorts down your legs.

The cotton left your skin with the softest whisper of friction, and then he hooked them around your ankles, slow and careful like he was undressing something sacred.

He didn’t throw them right away. He held them for a second—bunched in his hand—before finally letting them slip from his fingers and fall somewhere behind him with a soft thud. His gaze flicked up.

You’d opened your legs for him.

And that alone nearly broke him.

His breath hitched audibly, chest rising sharp as his hands found your thighs and pushed them open further—just enough for him to settle between them. His pupils were blown wide, lashes fluttering as he took you in, lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something and couldn’t quite remember how to form the words.

But then he did speak.

Barely louder than a whisper.

“F-Fuck… you’re already wet…”

His eyes were locked on the slick sheen between your thighs, his voice shaking with awe and arousal. “I-I didn’t even touch you yet.”

You smiled, breathless, threading your fingers into his hair. “You don’t have to, Bob. I’ve been thinking about this since I left.”

A groan caught in the back of his throat. He dipped his head low, kissing your inner thigh with reverence, lips soft and warm as he moved closer. Another kiss, higher now. Then another. A gentle scrape of teeth. He sucked lightly at the skin just above your knee, then further up–just below the edge of your heat–where he bit down softly and hummed against you.

“G-Gonna mark you here,” He murmured, voice raspy. “Only I’ll know it’s there.”

You felt the nip, the suction, and the soothing stroke of his tongue right after. A shiver ran through your whole body.

He moved higher, lips brushing the crease where your thigh met your pelvis, then gently slid your legs up–guiding them over his shoulders with hands that couldn’t stop shaking. He adjusted slightly, nestling his chest between your thighs, the warmth of him blanketing everything.

And then he looked up at you, utterly flushed, breath unsteady, eyes glassy with lust.

”I-I’m gonna take my t-time…I w-wanna s-savor you.” You nodded, unable to speak, and then he lowered his mouth.

The first lick was slow. Flat and deliberate, his tongue dragging up your folds with aching precision. His groan vibrated into you, low and desperate, like your taste knocked the air from his lungs.

He did it again, slower this time–parting you with careful fingers, exposing your clit, and flicking his tongue over it with gentle laps that made your hips twitch. His hands slid up under your thighs, holding you down, anchoring you as his mouth worked with focused hunger.

He kissed your folds like he loved them–soft and wet, teasing swirls of his tongue punctuated by firmer, sloppier sucks to your clit that had you gasping and writhing. He moaned into you every time your hips jerked against his mouth, like your pleasure was feeding him.

And then–his fingers joined the fray.

He eased one inside you slowly, watching your face the whole time, the stretch just right as you clenched around him.

”Mmm…P-Perfect…” He whispered, barely audible over your breathless moan. He added a second, curling them expertly. You felt the exact spot he was searching for as he pressed deeper, stroking in tandem with the suck of his mouth on your clit. The pace built gradually, maddeningly patient. He knew your body too well. Knew the rhythm that made your thighs start to tremble, knew when to ease off just a little to keep you right on the edge.

He licked you like he was starving, but careful. Worshipful. Like every stroke of his tongue was another way of telling you he missed you, needed you, belonged to you.

One of your hands gripped the pillow behind your head, and the other continued to tangle in his hair, fingers twisting in his soft curls as you gasped out his name.

“B-Bob–”

He groaned again, rutting slightly into the mattress, his own arousal completely unchecked.

“T-That’s it,” He rasped between licks, voice wrecked. “S-Say it again. Lemme h-hear it while I’ve got you falling apart on my mouth.”

And you did.

Because he earned it.

And you were already so close, the coil in your stomach burning with every wet, deliberate flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers pressing into that perfect spot again and again–

Until everything snapped.

Your back arched. Your thighs shook around his head. His name spilled from your lips again and again like a prayer as your climax crashed over you–hot, electric, and overwhelming.

But Bob didn’t stop.

He moaned into you deeply, slowing only enough to ride out every pulse, every shudder, licking you through it with open-mouthed reverence until you were trembling under him, breathless and overstimulated.

Bob stayed nestled between your legs for a long moment, his cheek resting against your thigh like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you just yet. His chest heaved softly, trying to catch up with the rhythm your body had demanded from him.

And then—still dazed, still breathless—he lifted his head.

His fingers slipped from you slowly, soaked and trembling. He held them up for a second, watching the wet glisten in the low light like he still couldn’t believe how much of you he had, how deeply you let him in.

Then–slowly, modestly–he brought those fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.

One at a time.

He sucked the taste of you from his knuckles with a low, helpless groan, like he was starving, like your pleasure was some kind of sustenance he hadn’t been able to live without all week. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes fanning his cheeks as his lips sealed over the pads of his fingers and pulled back with a soft, slick pop.

Then he looked up at you again–totally flushed, lips wet, curls wild and clinging to his forehead. And he smiled. Just a little. Like he couldn’t help it.

“God, you taste so good,” He rasped, voice nearly broken from the effort of holding back. “Y-You always do. I c-could stay down here forever…”

Your heart gave an answering throb–not just at the words, but the way he said them. Like he meant it. Like it wasn’t just about lust or pleasure or instinct. It was something needful, something devotional.

He pressed one more kiss to your thigh. Then another. His mouth moved slowly, lips soft against your overstimulated skin, kissing up toward the inside of your knee. He nuzzled into the crease where your thigh met your hip, resting there again like he was grounding himself.

“You’re…You’re s-so beautiful,” He whispered, almost shy. “I-I missed every inch of you. E-Every sound, every taste, every time you grab my hair like that–I missed all of it.”

Your fingers stayed tangled in his curls as his eyes met yours–blue and wide and still a little dazed, pupils rimmed with something darker, deeper. You stroked his scalp gently, thumb brushing just behind his ear.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” You said softly. Bob blinked like he didn’t understand the language.

“You’re so fucking good to me, Bob. That mouth of yours should be illegal.” You tugged his hair lightly for emphasis. “You take your time. You listen. You always make me feel like I’m the only thing you’ve ever needed.”

He whimpered at the comment, his cheeks going a deeper shade of red..

Then, quietly, with that fragile edge still in his voice: “C-Can I…Can I be inside you now?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes. God, yes. I want you.” He didn’t say anything after your “yes”—he didn’t have to. The air shifted the second the words left your lips. Almost in a trance, he pushed himself up on trembling arms, body sliding from between your legs just enough for his hands to tug down the waistband of his boxer briefs. He hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic, dragged them over the swell of his hips, and pushed them past his thighs. They caught for a moment on the curve of his ass, then fell to the floor with a soft thud. You could feel your mouth water at the sight of how hard he was–thick and flushed and leaking at the tip, his cock curved toward his belly with a kind of desperate heaviness.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t ask if you were sure again. Didn’t stutter.

He just moved.

Climbed up over you with deliberate grace, his skin flushed and hot, his mouth parted as he kissed a slow trail up your body. Over your thighs, your stomach, your ribs. Each kiss was lingering, lips wet and reverent, like he was soaking you in. He kissed the underside of your breast, then the curve of your collarbone. Then your jaw. Then–

Your mouth.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t rushed. It was hot. Slow. Deep. The kind of kiss you don’t come back from.

His lips opened against yours, his tongue brushing yours, breath catching like he couldn’t get close enough. One of his hands cradled your cheek, thumb stroking just beneath your eye, and the other curled beneath your knee, hitching your leg up around his waist until your hips aligned.

Your hand slid down his back, dragging your nails softly along the ridge of his spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” you whispered between kisses. “So hard for me already. God, I missed feeling you like this.”

He moaned–full-throated, broken–and rutted into you once, the tip of his cock slipping along your slick folds, just barely brushing your clit.

“I’ve got you,” You whispered, cupping his face. “You’ve always been mine.”

That did something to him. You saw it in his eyes–the shift.

The way the stutter disappeared. The way his jaw set. The way his gaze sharpened like lightning behind glass, the little shimmer of gold behind the ring of blue.

It wasn’t just Bob now, it was also the Sentry.

When he looked at you now, it wasn’t uncertainty. It was awe. Command. Like he could tear through the world but would rather be on his knees between your legs, or buried inside you, trembling with the effort of holding himself back just enough not to worship you into pieces.

“Please,” You breathed. “Need you inside me.”

His voice was lower now. Clear. Quiet. Controlled.

“Spread your legs a little more.”

You did, instantly. The commanding tone–still soft, still reverent, but sure–went straight to your core.

He guided himself forward with one hand, the other still cradling your thigh. And then–slow, deliberate–he pressed in.

The stretch was perfect. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp, and his eyes fluttered shut, forehead dipping down to press against yours. He groaned, low and long and helpless as your walls clenched around him, welcoming him home.

“Mmm… So tight… So wet… I forgot how good this felt,” He whispered, his voice wrecked but steady. “You feel like you were made for me.”

”I am…” You responded, your hands threading through his hair, “No one fucks me like you do. No one fills me like you do, Bob. You’re so deep already and you’re not even close to bottoming out…You’re just so fucking perfect.” Bob’s eyes fluttered closed at your words, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he pushed a deeper inside you, until he was fully seated–hips flush against yours, breath shuddering like he was trying not to lose it.

His voice came out strained, barely above a whisper.

“You know that’s gonna get to his head, right?”

Your breath caught, and a slow, knowing smile curled on your lips. You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You just tilted your head slightly, brushed your nose against his, and played it innocent.

“Hmm?” You asked softly, letting your hips roll up ever so slightly against him, just enough for both of you to feel the perfect stretch again. “What will?”

Bob groaned–deep, desperate–and dropped his forehead against your shoulder for a second like he was trying to physically hide from the pull inside him.

“The way you talk,” He rasped. “The way you say I’m perfect. T-That I fill you just right. You know what that does to him…”

You kissed the curve of his jaw, slowly. “Do I?”

He pulled back to look at you, his eyes now shimmering with something gold at the edges, flickering like lightning underwater. That flicker. That edge. The Sentry wasn’t in control–not yet–but he was listening. And Bob knew it. Felt it.

“I-I don’t think you realize how close he is sometimes,” He murmured, one of his hands sliding up your side, over your ribs, until it cupped your throat. He didn’t squeeze. Just held you there–warm and firm, like a tether. “It’s like…Like you say the right thing and it just flips a switch.”

You blinked up at him, breath catching as his thumb brushed under your jaw.

“Maybe I like flipping it,” You whispered. “Maybe I want both of you.”

That broke something.

Bob’s pupils blew even wider, mouth dropping open slightly as he stared at you like you were the most dangerous thing he’d ever seen.

And then he moved.

In one swift motion, he slid your legs over his shoulders, folding you tighter beneath him. The new angle had his cock hitting deeper–hot and full and unbearable in the best way. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders for purchase as he drove forward with a slow, powerful thrust that made your back arch off the mattress.

He groaned, long and low, hips beginning to snap into you with more force now, still controlled–but rougher. Needier. His grip on your neck stayed steady, anchoring you, his other hand gripping the edge of the mattress like he needed it to keep from breaking apart entirely.

The kiss that followed was messy–hungry and open-mouthed, more teeth than lips. His tongue was everywhere, licking into your mouth with urgency, nipping your lower lip between groans that sounded more like growls now. His hair was falling into his face, damp with sweat, and your nails dug into his shoulders, raking down his back when he hit just the right spot again.

“Oh my–fuck, Bob–” You cried out, legs trembling where they were braced on his shoulders. He was fucking you deeper now, each thrust dragging moans from your throat that echoed in the warm, hazy dimness of the room.

“You wanted this,” He gritted out against your lips. “Y-You wanted him. This is what happens—fuck—w-when you tease him.”

You moaned at the words, high and desperate, your nails leaving crescents in his skin.

“God, yes, that’s what I wanted–want both of you–don’t hold back—”

That lit something behind his eyes.

His hand squeezed your throat gently and he kissed you again, rougher this time, teeth catching your lip before dragging it between his.

“Then you’re gonna take everything,” He growled against your mouth, “Everything…You hear me?” You nodded, gasping, legs clenching around his shoulders.

“Yes–yes, Bob–please—”

And he gave it to you.

All of it.

The Sentry’s strength and language. Bob’s tenderness. That perfect, devastating mix that only you seemed able to call forward.

His thrusts slowed for just a second—just enough for him to look down at you again, to see the way your mouth hung open, the way your eyes fluttered, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed a breath. His hand was still resting there, warm and firm around your neck, and now he adjusted—his fingers splaying wider across your pulse point, thumb brushing up to trace your jaw, not to control you, but to feel you. To feel the way you beat under his touch. To know you were alive beneath him, trembling and taking everything he gave.

“Feel that,” he whispered, voice hoarse, lips inches from yours. “Your pulse…fuck… it’s so fast.” His thumb pressed just slightly beneath your ear, right where your heartbeat thrummed the loudest. “You do that to me too. Every time.”

Then he kissed you.

Not sweet. Not soft.

Dirty. Starved.

His tongue slid over yours, wet and insistent, lips parted wide as he devoured the sounds you made. He kissed you like he was drowning and your mouth was the only place he could breathe. It wasn’t clean—there was nothing neat about it. It was spit-slick, breathless, interrupted by moans and the shiver of his hips driving into yours. His body pressed you deep into the mattress, your legs still curled up over his shoulders as he leaned forward to pin you there—completely under him, beneath him, owned by him.

His hand never left your neck. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t tight. But it was grounding. Possessive. Like he needed that connection as much as he needed to be inside you.

“Y-You feel so fuckin’ good,” He panted into your mouth, hips jerking deeper, the head of his cock nudging places inside you that made your vision blur. “Clenching so tight around me—so fucking warm—I c-can’t…”

His voice cracked.

And then his hand slid down your body.

Still shaking, still careful. He found your clit with two fingers, thumb slipping low, and began to rub tight, perfect circles–just like he knew you needed.

“Come for me,” He whispered. “Please. Please come for me—I-I need to feel it.”

You whimpered, your body jerking beneath his, the stimulation dizzying—too much and just right at the same time. The stretch of him. The wet heat of his mouth still ghosting your lips. The slow, brutal way his fingers worked your clit with focused desperation.

And then it hit you.

The orgasm ripped through you like a lightning strike–sudden and overwhelming. You cried out, voice cracked and strangled, legs tightening around his shoulders as you pulsed around him. Your entire body arched, back bowed off the mattress, hips lifting to meet every thrust with frantic desperation as pleasure shattered through your core.

“Oh…Oh my–” Bob choked, the way your walls spasmed around him making his rhythm falter. “God–you’re s-so perfect–I can’t–”

He buried himself to the hilt one final time and came with a deep, broken groan, his whole body shuddering.

His forehead collapsed to your shoulder, hand still clutching your throat, not tight–just present. Just there. His hips jerked twice, thrice–instinct driving him as he moaned into your neck, hot and helpless. His cock throbbed inside you, spilling deep with every ragged, breathless cry he let out, each one softer than the last.

He didn’t move for a long moment–just stayed there, trembling, his full weight settling over you. His lips pressed into your throat. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

Still inside you.

Still hard.

Still shaking.

And then–you felt it.

Another slow thrust.

Not desperate. Not sharp.

Just a gentle roll of his hips, pressing his cum deeper inside you, pushing it further with quiet reverence.

“J-Just wanna…Make sure you keep it in you for a bit,” He whispered hoarsely, breath hitching as your body clenched again around the overstimulated head of his cock. “You feel so good when you come…” You moaned softly, your fingers stroking through his hair as he pulled back just slightly–just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy. Blue and clear, with no gold in sight. Just Bob. Just yours. You grinned, breath still coming in short, shallow waves as he looked down at you–his hair tousled, skin flushed, lips kiss-bitten and wet. You reached up, cupped his jaw gently, and traced your thumb across the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t suppose that means you’re trying to knock me up, huh?” Bob’s eyes widened instantly, that unmistakable Bob expression washing over his features—equal parts scandalized, panicked, and completely enamored.

“Wh–I–I didn’t–I mean–was that–oh my God.” You burst into a soft laugh, biting your lip as he stammered, his face flushing deeper with every attempt at forming a coherent sentence.

“I’m kidding, Bob, you know I’m on birth control,” You whispered, giggling, dragging your fingers slowly through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck. “Jesus, you’re cute when you malfunction.”

He gave a low, breathless groan and shook his head like he was trying to will his brain back into function, but then he leaned down and kissed you again–this time slow, warm, melting into the shape of you with that unmistakable Bob tenderness.

It was his kind of kiss.

Not the Sentry’s. Not some thunderous, desperate thing.

But soft. Full. Devoted.

Like you were something he’d missed every second of the week you’d been gone and needed to relearn with his mouth–your taste, your sighs, the way your bottom lip always trembled just slightly when he kissed you slow enough.

You sighed into it, and his hand slid from your throat to cradle your cheek again, thumb brushing just beneath your eye as his forehead touched yours.

“I–I could’ve said something better than ‘don’t you wanna sleep,’” He mumbled, sheepish, his lips still ghosting yours. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.”

You chuckled again and nudged his nose with yours. “You say a lot of dumb things when you’re half asleep and hard.”

Bob gave a mortified little noise in his throat and hid his face in your neck, but not before you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips.

You felt his hand drift down your arm, then settle on your waist as he drew small, grounding circles against your skin. His voice was quieter now, steadier–like the heat had cooled just enough for the weight of it all to settle in.

“Do you need anything?” He asked gently. “Water? A warm towel? Another orgasm?” He said it half-teasing, half-hopeful, with a lopsided grin you could feel against your skin.

You smiled, eyes fluttering closed, your fingers lazily dancing across his spine.

“Just this….This is perfect” You whispered.

And Bob–sweet, sincere, utterly yours–wrapped his arms tighter around you and whispered back, “Okay.”