the thing about bob wanting praise is that it's less about recieving it, and more about earning it. he wants to get a 'good boy' only after he's spent half an hour between your legs, wants you to beg him to put his cock inside you, because that means he's doing a good job, and wants to feel your legs shake underneath him while he fucks you nice and slow, one thumb circling your clit.
and you notice, because he was never subtle, specially when it came to sex stuff. that dazed look on his eyes when he coaxes the praise out of you, the way his cock twitches when you pull him closer, how he moans with you whenever you flutter around him.
he loves getting his cock snug inside your pussy, all warm and wet and safe, and he will never say no to it. but nothing compares to rubbing his cock all over your slit, collecting your wetness on his sensitive tip, hips snapping foward on their own chasing the feeling. he could stay like that for hours, stopping himself every now and then to breath and stop himself from cumming all over your glistening folds.
if you suggest that he fucks you with just the tip, he'll go crazy, because to him, being able to make you cum like that means that he's making you feel good, and therefore he's good. because bob would never bother you by asking you to praise him, and so he drains the praise he needs from your reactions, like the slow grind of your hips trying to suck his cock back inside.
so if you whine and beg for him, it's very likely he'll cum on the spot. when you start being vocal, giving him instructions and telling him if he's doing good, you can feel his cock twitching. he drools a little when you start talking, his hips move faster, and his hands never stop working on your clit and tits. bob was made to please you, and he'll be damned if he doesn't.
bob likes sucking things. lollipops, icecream, candycanes, anything that will take a while to finish so he'll be calm and focused on something. he chews his gum until it's hard and tasteless, and will chew on ice cubes randomly thoroughout the day just to put his mind at ease. it's not even a task, having his mouth moving around something, but it's the right amount of attention he needs to put out so other things can be done smoothly.
so when he tells you he would pay better attention to the movie you are watching if he had one of your pretty tits on his mouth, he's not joking. and the worst part is that he doesn't even act horny about it: just pulls your shirt down a bit and guides your nipple to his mouth, eyes trained on the tv. you could say something. maybe you should say something, call him a pervert just to see his ears go a little red, but he's honestly watching that damn cop movie, lips latched and tongue moving slowly, his other hand resting on your stomach.
so you let him. you ignore the growing wetness between your legs, the way your thighs move just a little under him, and how warm and wet his lips feel, because he's been begging to watch this movie for weeks now and you don't want to spoil his fun. and for two whole hours, you keep your sounds and movements to a minimum, even when his other hand comes up and starts squeezing your other breast like a fidget toy. when it finally ends and he lets go of your now red, bruised skin with a wet pop, you can't help the little moan that slips out of you.
that's when bob notices your glazed eyes and tense limbs, lower lip red from how you'd been chewing to keep quiet. and his heart skips a beat, of course it does, because he just now realizes that he's been edging his girl for hours, and she didn't say anything!
"oh no, did i leave my baby hanging? do you need help, sweetheart? huh?"
and, for one, you do need help, because your panties are sticking to your damp skin when you slide them off you to show the mess he made, and you really feel like getting his cock nice and snug inside of you until you melt. but also, he doesn't move or stop looking right into your eyes until you answer him, because he wants to hear you. wants to hear the need in your voice, and see the effect he has on you.
and when you mumble a yes, he goes right to the root of the problem, his pretty cock going hard at the drop of a hat (you're pretty sure he can control it at this point), nudging your clenching hole with the tip just to see if you're ready. and from the way a string of your wetness gets stuck on his cock, he can see you are.
so he fucks you nice and slow, his eyes torn between watching your folds drag around him and your pleading glassy eyes. he's not edging or teasing you anymore, he just wants you to let go and get your release, and so his fingers make their way to your puffy clit, getting wet from the mess of you two combined.
and then, as if you weren't already on edge, his head makes its way to your tits again, his tongue tracing lazily around your skin. when you ask him if he was distracted, he just says he wants to focus on making you feel good, and not lose it and just pump you full of cum. because bob is good at paying attention. he just needs something to suck on.
bob, who loves cumming inside, and when you ask him about it he says that he likes being close to you in all ways possible, that the thought of you letting him be so close to you makes his heart do a leap. that he wants you to feel how much he truly loves you.
but if you ask him on a deeper level, and pry it out of him, he'll tell you he loves how creamy and slick your pussy gets, how the drag of his cock inside your clenching hole gets a bit more easy as he pushes back inside just to see it dripping out of you. even when his cock is soft and oversensitive, he'll still drag it around your skin to feel you twitch. when you can't take it anymore, he'll kiss your lips sweetly, and you might think it's over, but bob is a special guy.
because if you ask him why every time he makes a mess inside you he lowers himself to be face level with your puffy folds, he'll tell you that he just wants to make sure he didn't hurt you, that he's just taking a moment to stare at your whole body from that angle. that he'll clean you up in a second, he's just thinking of the logostics of it.
and when his tongue starts to lap at the mess between your legs, when your cum mixes with his and he gets to taste the two of you together, you won't notice the way his cock twitches, still slick and leaking precum. you won't notice the way his eyebrows twist because of how that taste makes him feel, nor how he inhales your skin and has to stop himself from getting inside you again.
what you will notice is the sounds he's making, mumbling random things and groaning against you. you will notice the way his hands grip your thighs and force them down so he can have better access to your pussy, and how little strength he actually has to use to keep you still. you will notice how he swallows it down like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, licking his lips and smiling up to you like you've just given him a treat.
you feel like a creep when you realize you've been staring at his throat for too long, and it's even worse when he catches you doing it. at this point in your relationship, he's way more relaxed about your affection, so even if he blushes a little at how much want is in your eyes, he still gives you that little lopsided smile and asks if there's something on his face (even if he knows you were just ogling him).
and when you get tired of just looking, the obvious next step is to get as close to him as you possibly can and get your hands and face on his neck: you trace it with your fingers, ignoring the obvious shiver that runs through him, and kiss your favorite spots (like the juncture of his shoulder and neck, his adam's apple, that spot behind his ear that makes him whine). he lets you play with him as much as you want, his hands wandering softly under your shirt and over your thighs, happy sighs and chuckles indicating that he'd like for you to keep going, please.
and when you're feeling a little bolder and all you want is to wreck him, your hips shift over his and you suck marks all over his pretty, sensitive skin, and all he can do is either hold on for dear life or beg a little. you pull away a bit and look at your work, his eyes glazed over and his neck starting to get those purple marks that he loves so much. you can't help but give in and kiss him all over his face next. the adoration in his eyes is enough to make you shift your entire behavior, and he's always secretly confused because a second ago you were ready to jump his bones and now you're just... soft? not that he minds! but he does wonder about it (he has no idea).
when he marks your neck instead and you show it around other people like it's no big deal (no, like you're proud of it) he gets a little high on that simple display of casualness, and more often than not he'll drag you somewhere empty and kiss you silly, until you're breathless and your legs are a little wobbly, while he looks like the proudest man alive. you like this side of bob, the one that is bold and silly and happy.
one time you tell him that you're too lazy to get up and go to sleep in the bed, so he picks you up and takes you there. you don't mention it, but your heart races, because it's easy to forget how strong he actually is. so one day, you're on his lap kissing him breathless, and you whisper in his ear that you'd like for him to do it again. he gets your legs to circle his waist and doesn't stop kissing you, and you swear to god you almost pass out.
every now and then he'll hold you down or press you against surfaces just because he feels like it, but it also reminds you of how strong he actually is. you can't help but shiver when he holds your neck in place while kissing you, not squeezing, just resting his hands on your skin.
when you notice he's getting restless during a meeting or something akin to a fight (which is happening less often than it used to), you drag him to an empty room before the lights start to flicker and ask him what he needs. sometimes he wants to be alone in the quiet, sometimes he wants a tight hug, and sometimes he wants to get himself inside of you and fuck you until he forgets why he was getting angry. it usually ends up with you propped up against a wall with your pants around your ankles and him panting on your neck, mumbling curses and biting his lips. what truly breaks you is how one of his hands always soothes your back, like he can't help but be careful with you even when he's being rough.
there's this really funny thing that happens every now and then where he sneezes when he cums. it doesn't happen all the time, but when it does he gets embarrassed and tells you to stop laughing at him, but it's too funny: at one point he's bucking his hips into your mouth, on the other he's brushing his nose with his hand. it's honestly endearing, but his neck gets all red when you tease him about it.
the first time you sucked him off, he was so quiet you were worried he wasn't enjoying it. then you looked up: both his hands around his mouth, eyes shut tightly and cheeks flushed. you stopped until he promised to relax. from then on, he's a brat, bucking his hips into your mouth, whining that he needs it wetter, that he wants to come in your mouth and make you all messy. but he's still too endearing for his own good, holding your hair back from your face, being careful not to hurt your throat, and thanking you every now and then.
he likes it when you kiss him right after he comes on your mouth. makes his head dizzy.
warnings: smut under the cut, reader has a vagina and boobs, bob is a cute little pervert and we love him for it, oral sex, fingering, hair play, non sexual tickling, bob being soft
a/n: this is the most obssessed i've been with a character in a long time seriously its not funny anymore. A PART 3 IS COMING HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTIES
you walk into the kitchen on afternoon, and it takes bob a second to fully notice what you're wearing: one of his old, too worn sweaters, and big shorts that go below your knees and seem to be a second away from falling. he stares for a second, trying to understand what he's seeing, and when he does he can't help but ask out loud about your outfit
you brush him off saying you were just doing laundry so you stole his clothes as to not have to be naked while waiting for them to dry out. he barely hears you, noticing how the fabric looks against your skin and how hot his face feels right now. you pretend not to notice, going about your day as normal, but his presence lingers in hallways and rooms, still looking at you. he feels an ache on his chest then, because someone loves him enough to be in the same space he once was, and he's never felt as thetered to earth as in that moment
if you ever wear only one of his shirts or sweaters, soft legs on display, he'll subtly (not really) get you to sit or lay down so he can lay his head on them, nose and mouth nudging you softly. sometimes he's going to fall asleep, eyes fluttering and lips slightly parted, so content he's even smiling a little. other times, his mouth keeps wandering, eyes hooded with sleep and something else, making your skin shiver. he keeps running his mouth over your thighs, mumbling things like "so soft" and "just a lick, please?" until his head is buried between your legs, hands still wandering your ass and thighs, tongue lazily licking at your wetness, so slow you see stars and pull on his hair so he will go faster
he has fallen asleep with his mouth on you before, and it will happen again!
he also has this funny habit of fingering you out of nowhere. maybe the two of you will be watching a movie on your bedroom, or doing some light paperwork in one of the dozens of offices the tower has, and his hands will start to get fidgety until they reach your thighs, moving up and up until he can rest his fingers comfortably inside your panties
it's not even a sexual thing at this point, it's almost like your pussy is his personal fidget spinner: whenever he has nothing to occupy his hands, one of them drifts to the middle of your legs and he starts playing with you, only stopping when he starts to hear you moan. then he kind of snaps out of whatever he's doing and stammers a bit, but before he can take his fingers out of your fluttering hole, you hold his hand in place and tell him to finish what he's started. he happily does so, kissing you silly at the same time, and he looks so sweet while he's at it that you can't help but cum embarassingly quickly
will spend an embarassing amount of time (embarassing for you, he's proud of it) sucking his fingers clean after, and might ask you for a little taste. honestly if he could just have you on him all day he would
one time you put him on his knees in front of you after a party where he looked a little too delectable and had him eat you out while you praised him because he's such a good little puppy, and he came on his pants. he didn't say anything, but you noticed it, and ever since then you reserve manhandling him for special occasions, like his birthday or the first time he managed to actually fly without having a void incident
playing with his hair is a great past time activity for you in general, but pull on it while the two of you are getting busy and he becomes such a whiny mess he can't help but buckle his hips against yours and show you his neck so you kiss it. his hair is so sensitive, you accidentally riled him up in his sleep once, just by passing your hands through it. he says it's a little mortifying that he's that weak and responsive, but to you it's like he's constantly giving you candy when you've been craving it
in an attempt to get him used to touching in general, combined with the efforts of the rest of the team, you also start touching him under his clothes casually. it starts soft, just on the edge of them and he barely notices it, but then your fingers nudge themselves between the cloth and his skin and you run them around there, his skin hot under your touch. he tries to act normal, but it just feels so good he leans into it and sighs contently.
maybe it's breakfast time and the two of you and the group are having your meal quietly, and your hand just barely brushes the skin of his wrist under his sleeve. he smiles then, cheeks full of pancakes and syrup, and leans on your touch. maybe the two of you are in mission debriefing and he's fidgety, and you put your arm behind his neck and brush your fingers on the base of his neck. you bite back a smile at the little gasp he lets out then, eyes running to your face quickly, his head telling him to stop with the pda, his body making him inch closer
although you must admit, sometimes it's just for your own enjoyment
along with the subtle touching that plagues most of his waking thoughts, there are also bold touches that happen when it's just the two of you in the comfort of your bedroom, lights low and head dizzy with affection. your hands crawl up his sides, his surprisingly toned muscles and tender skin, and he hides his eyes with his forearm, trying not to pass out
he regrets not telling you this before (that's what he tells himself), but his whole abdomen is super sensitive: whenever someone as much as brushes him there, he has to stop himself from making sounds. It's not that he's ticklish, and more about how much more he feels in that specific part of his body. It's why, whenever you're on top of him, your weight making a loopy smile appear on his face, and your hands start going lower and lower on his body, he has to physically stop himself from jumping and gasping
you notice it one day, after you've fucked him out so good he hasn't opened his eyes yet, that he has little freckles speckled everywhere. and as he's coming down from his high, still panting a little, you kiss each one of them, his gasps softer when your lips touch the skin on his sides. when you're done, you can swear he's glowing a little, his eyes a different shade than before. every now and then you randomly take off his shirt or just pull it up to take a peek at the freckles you've come to love so much, and he has to turn away to hide his blush from you
there are other times, when the two of you are not being needy for each other, that you just press against him on his side, and he flinches and lets out a strangled giggle. that's when he stares at you wide eyed, and before he can tell you not to, you're already tickling him with all your might, fingers digging in the soft material of his clothes, his own cheeks burning and eyes glistening. you swear his laughter is the sweetest sound you'e ever heard
gets embarassed at any praise you give him in the begining, both because he kind of doesn't believe you, and because this has never happened to him before: the mere idea that someone could actually think something good about him makes his heart do a little leap. so you hold his face up to yours, eyes bearing into his, and make him stare back at you as you tell him how pretty he is, how kind, how nice, and how perfect he is. and after a while, he takes it, with burning cheeks and babbling words
whenever he's by himself, his eating habits are terrible: he either drinks five gallons of water and forgets he needs actual sustenance, or just sleeps the day away without consuming anything. it's the reason why you make sure that he has eaten something before the two of you hang out or watch a movie. the more weight he gains, the happier you are
one day you catch him staring at himself in the mirror, smiling softly at the little belly that has formed on his stomach, and how his ribs are basically a detail instead of sharp and visible all the time. you hug him from behind then, telling him how proud you are of his progress, and then announce that you've made pasta for the night. you also pretend you didn't see the way he blushes at your praise
and when he starts eating away, on his second plate already (his metabolism requires way more energy than it did before), and the corner of his mouth is smudged with the sauce, you can't help but dab a napkin on it, and smile at his messiness. on other times, when dessert is already clouding your mind, you might clean him up by licking the sauce away, just to hear his breath hitch and his eyes become wide
it's also nice to get takeout, and have him pick what you guys are going to eat: he spent so long not being able to make choices, and then manipulated into making them, that it feels nice to start making good decisions again (even if it starts small). so you give him a bunch of options like thai, pizza, fries, and he picks whatever he wants. in the beginning he would almost beg you to choose for him, but after reassuring him a thousand times that whatever he chose would be good, he finally relaxed. it is now tradition, and he will buy something to be delivered to you without you asking
he expresses interest in legos one day (he mentions he really wanted them as a kid, but never spoke up about it), and so you buy him those flower ones, because he also said he'd like to "green his place up," but didn't trust himself to take care of a plant
turns out, the choice was perfect, and now he has twenty different kinds of lego flowers all over his bedroom. he loves to build them with you specifically, but will invite the others on occasion. sometimes he'll mess up a little (like attaching the wrong pieces together and not being able to separate them without breaking them, or he'll stumble on an already built part and knock it to the floor, dismantling it) and he looks so scared for a second it breaks your heart. so you reassure him constantly, maybe even mess up a few times yourself on purpose, and praise him every time the two of you finish a set. his face lights up during the whole process, and your heart melts every time
he likes to be around you even when you're not doing something together. and when you get to reading that book you've been wanting to, he sneaks into your room without you noticing, until he gets on top of you (like a tall, long blanket) or by your side, and hugs you to him. sometimes he'll just stay there, enjoying your warmth and the way one of your hands pets his hair, and other times he'll ask you to read aloud for him. he usually falls asleep if you read, and you soon join him (i think he's way warmer than he used to be) because he is, indeed, the comfiest blanket
if you're gonna do a chore or a task, please ask him to do it with you. he goes on missions very rarely, and he loves feeling useful, but it's not always that they'll let him wander around and use his powers. that makes him feel trapped at best, and useless at worst. so if he has nothing to do, invite him to help you do your laundry, go grocery shopping, move some furniture around, or go around the city: he likes feeling like he's giving back somehow, that he's repaying your kindness and patience by helping you out (even if you reassure him that whatever you do for him goes without any expectations, he gets anxious if he goes too long without doing something nice to you too). praise him while at it and watch him gleam with happiness
the first time he cried in front of you, you went to comfort him with a hug, but he pulled away after a second. you figured maybe he didn't want to be touched, but later he confessed that he felt a little disgusting when he cried: salty tears and a runny nose used to get him beat up, and even though he knows you would never do that, he still feels bad. the next time you catch him crying silently by himself, you don't let him pull away: you hold his face with your hands as softly as you can, and use your shirt to clean his face. he's already laughing a little and the tips of his ears are getting red, but when you start kissing him all over his face, your lips soft and warm, he almost forgets why he was crying, and he nuzzles into your neck
his hands are fidgety: always have been, always will be. though there's a subtle difference from when he's alright and he's playing with his fingers, and when he's getting anxious and restless. that's when his hands start shaking and that damned crease in the middle of his eyebrows shows up, indicating that he needs space or he's gonna lose it. the key to ease this problem is taking him away from wherever he is, and holding his hands tightly while he breathes slowly. it doesn't work every time, but he still prefers if you try it before taking more drastic measures. so you hold his hands between yours, tracing the faint scars and pale skin there, and when his breathing has eased up a little more, you brush one of your thumbs between his eyebrows, and he always laughs a little because he always forgets he frowns a lot
there's this devotion in bob you rarely see in other people, and the way he always seems so surprised that you love him as much as he does breaks your heart a little. it's why you try so hard to make him happy: because if there's someone who deserves to feel good all the time, it's bob.
warnings: smut under the cut, reader has a vagina and boobs, bob is a cute little pervert and we love him for it, oral sex, fingering, hair play, non sexual tickling, bob being soft
a/n: this is the most obssessed i've been with a character in a long time seriously its not funny anymore. A PART 3 IS COMING HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTIES
you walk into the kitchen on afternoon, and it takes bob a second to fully notice what you're wearing: one of his old, too worn sweaters, and big shorts that go below your knees and seem to be a second away from falling. he stares for a second, trying to understand what he's seeing, and when he does he can't help but ask out loud about your outfit
you brush him off saying you were just doing laundry so you stole his clothes as to not have to be naked while waiting for them to dry out. he barely hears you, noticing how the fabric looks against your skin and how hot his face feels right now. you pretend not to notice, going about your day as normal, but his presence lingers in hallways and rooms, still looking at you. he feels an ache on his chest then, because someone loves him enough to be in the same space he once was, and he's never felt as thetered to earth as in that moment
if you ever wear only one of his shirts or sweaters, soft legs on display, he'll subtly (not really) get you to sit or lay down so he can lay his head on them, nose and mouth nudging you softly. sometimes he's going to fall asleep, eyes fluttering and lips slightly parted, so content he's even smiling a little. other times, his mouth keeps wandering, eyes hooded with sleep and something else, making your skin shiver. he keeps running his mouth over your thighs, mumbling things like "so soft" and "just a lick, please?" until his head is buried between your legs, hands still wandering your ass and thighs, tongue lazily licking at your wetness, so slow you see stars and pull on his hair so he will go faster
he has fallen asleep with his mouth on you before, and it will happen again!
he also has this funny habit of fingering you out of nowhere. maybe the two of you will be watching a movie on your bedroom, or doing some light paperwork in one of the dozens of offices the tower has, and his hands will start to get fidgety until they reach your thighs, moving up and up until he can rest his fingers comfortably inside your panties
it's not even a sexual thing at this point, it's almost like your pussy is his personal fidget spinner: whenever he has nothing to occupy his hands, one of them drifts to the middle of your legs and he starts playing with you, only stopping when he starts to hear you moan. then he kind of snaps out of whatever he's doing and stammers a bit, but before he can take his fingers out of your fluttering hole, you hold his hand in place and tell him to finish what he's started. he happily does so, kissing you silly at the same time, and he looks so sweet while he's at it that you can't help but cum embarassingly quickly
will spend an embarassing amount of time (embarassing for you, he's proud of it) sucking his fingers clean after, and might ask you for a little taste. honestly if he could just have you on him all day he would
one time you put him on his knees in front of you after a party where he looked a little too delectable and had him eat you out while you praised him because he's such a good little puppy, and he came on his pants. he didn't say anything, but you noticed it, and ever since then you reserve manhandling him for special occasions, like his birthday or the first time he managed to actually fly without having a void incident
playing with his hair is a great past time activity for you in general, but pull on it while the two of you are getting busy and he becomes such a whiny mess he can't help but buckle his hips against yours and show you his neck so you kiss it. his hair is so sensitive, you accidentally riled him up in his sleep once, just by passing your hands through it. he says it's a little mortifying that he's that weak and responsive, but to you it's like he's constantly giving you candy when you've been craving it
in an attempt to get him used to touching in general, combined with the efforts of the rest of the team, you also start touching him under his clothes casually. it starts soft, just on the edge of them and he barely notices it, but then your fingers nudge themselves between the cloth and his skin and you run them around there, his skin hot under your touch. he tries to act normal, but it just feels so good he leans into it and sighs contently.
maybe it's breakfast time and the two of you and the group are having your meal quietly, and your hand just barely brushes the skin of his wrist under his sleeve. he smiles then, cheeks full of pancakes and syrup, and leans on your touch. maybe the two of you are in mission debriefing and he's fidgety, and you put your arm behind his neck and brush your fingers on the base of his neck. you bite back a smile at the little gasp he lets out then, eyes running to your face quickly, his head telling him to stop with the pda, his body making him inch closer
although you must admit, sometimes it's just for your own enjoyment
along with the subtle touching that plagues most of his waking thoughts, there are also bold touches that happen when it's just the two of you in the comfort of your bedroom, lights low and head dizzy with affection. your hands crawl up his sides, his surprisingly toned muscles and tender skin, and he hides his eyes with his forearm, trying not to pass out
he regrets not telling you this before (that's what he tells himself), but his whole abdomen is super sensitive: whenever someone as much as brushes him there, he has to stop himself from making sounds. It's not that he's ticklish, and more about how much more he feels in that specific part of his body. It's why, whenever you're on top of him, your weight making a loopy smile appear on his face, and your hands start going lower and lower on his body, he has to physically stop himself from jumping and gasping
you notice it one day, after you've fucked him out so good he hasn't opened his eyes yet, that he has little freckles speckled everywhere. and as he's coming down from his high, still panting a little, you kiss each one of them, his gasps softer when your lips touch the skin on his sides. when you're done, you can swear he's glowing a little, his eyes a different shade than before. every now and then you randomly take off his shirt or just pull it up to take a peek at the freckles you've come to love so much, and he has to turn away to hide his blush from you
there are other times, when the two of you are not being needy for each other, that you just press against him on his side, and he flinches and lets out a strangled giggle. that's when he stares at you wide eyed, and before he can tell you not to, you're already tickling him with all your might, fingers digging in the soft material of his clothes, his own cheeks burning and eyes glistening. you swear his laughter is the sweetest sound you'e ever heard
gets embarassed at any praise you give him in the begining, both because he kind of doesn't believe you, and because this has never happened to him before: the mere idea that someone could actually think something good about him makes his heart do a little leap. so you hold his face up to yours, eyes bearing into his, and make him stare back at you as you tell him how pretty he is, how kind, how nice, and how perfect he is. and after a while, he takes it, with burning cheeks and babbling words
he doesn't mean to be a creep, and he hopes you don't think he is one, but he can't help but gravitate toward you at all times. he waits anxiously for you in the mornings before the two of you get together, and when you walk into the kitchen for breakfast, he lights up and sticks to your side. the only time he leaves you alone is when you go to the bathroom or go to sleep.
after the two of you become an item, it's difficult to get out of bed since he's a cuddle bug and loves your warmth. he helps you with your chores and activities, joins you in your hobbies, and suggests new things to do together. he knows you also need your alone time, as does he, but being with you feels so nice!
holding hands with him is probably one of the nicest parts of your day. they get clammy sometimes, and he might squeeze too tight, but they're warm and softer than one might think, and because of how happy he looks, it's worth it. the best part is when you feel him brush his thumb over your knuckles, which means he's at ease, and your heart stammers in your chest.
and every now and then, when it's quiet and it's just the two of you and he hasn't let go just yet, you bring your intertwined hands to your mouth and kiss his skin, ignoring bob's breath hitching beside you. you only stop once you've covered every inch of skin you can cover, and when you look at him again, his eyes are glazed and his breath is ragged.
he has a tendency not to look into people's eyes when they're talking to him, which is fine and no one is really bothered by it, but you try to get him more used to it. that's why, whenever the two of you are having a conversation and he's not looking directly at you, you gently pull his face up with your fingers, trying not to linger so the moment doesn't turn awkward (you can still hear him swallowing).
it becomes something like a routine, like saying hello to him in the morning: you push his hair a bit out of his face and brush your hand lightly, just to see him better. he's always elated and starts to purposefully avoid your gaze so you'll hold him more. with time, he learns to just ask for it, closing his eyes and almost purring from your soft touch.
there was one time when he almost stumbled to the ground after you finished touching him. you kept your laugh to yourself but couldn't help a smirk.
he's trying to get used to touch, and hugs between the two of you become a common occurrence. he's still a little rusty, feeling that his limbs are too sharp and long, not soft enough for anything. but you still pull him close, even when he squeezes too tight to the point of pain, or when it gets too hot but he's not ready to let go. you don't mind though, because he always smells like clothes softener and that pear shampoo you bought him.
sometimes you'll be working on something, reading a book, or just scrolling through your phone, and he'll rest his forehead on your shoulder or your arm—really anywhere he can reach. he won't linger for long (again, he doesn't want to bother you), just enough to ground himself and feel your warmth. sometimes you'll hold him to you a second longer, your hand threading softly through his hair.
once the whole asking for permission to touch you every five seconds is resolved, he seeks you out more often for it. he still hesitates a lot and sometimes will give up on whole conversations because he feels like he fumbled it, but with enough reassurance, not only does he get more comfortable with being affectionate, but he also starts to feel better with everything else. touch soothes him.
and like a laser pointer to a cat, if he's starting to spiral or finds that he can't focus, touching him anywhere his skin is exposed makes his brain shut down for a second, and then he starts to come back to himself. it works for everyone, but he only blushes if it was you who had to calm him.
when the two of you start sleeping in the same bed, you try to get up before him (it's not that hard. he either falls asleep right away and can only be woken up by shaking, or can't sleep at all). you take that moment of quiet, where he can't get too much into his head, to trace his features with your fingers. your touch feather-light, following the line of his nose and eyebrows, down to his cheeks and lips. by the time you get there, he's stirring awake and unconsciously kisses the pads of your fingers while mumbling good morning. sleepy bob is your favorite bob.
after the first few times you touch his hair, it becomes your favorite thing to do, not just because of his reactions (from mewls and whimpers to full-body shivers and giggles), but also because it was unbelievably soft and curly, and you just started doing it out of nowhere for your own enjoyment. you do it if he's crying, which either makes him cry even harder or stop after a while. and when he's calm and content, it puts a blush on his face, but he manages to keep looking into your eyes.
he starts kissing your cheek one day, testing the waters. of course, he was extremely awkward and managed to bump heads with you the first few times, but once you saw him coming, you put your face out in his direction so there are no more accidents. imagine his face when you start kissing him back, before leaving for a mission or thanking him for bringing you a cup of water. it's the highlight of his day.
when the two of you go to sleep in your room, he likes to hold your hand and face you, or for you to spoon him. it keeps him grounded, in the moment, and also because he just likes to be held (especially by you). in the morning, when the two of you start to stir awake, he rolls in your direction until his head is tucked in your neck and his arms are circling your waist. if he could stay like this forever, he would.
the getting-to-bed routine also includes kissing his shoulders before he lies down, and he loves it so much. sometimes he stands perfectly still while you brush your teeth, waiting for you to get into bed and kiss his shoulder before he finally rests. he does the same to you in the mornings, pulling you back to him to kiss your shoulder blade and wish you a good morning. he's a sucker for casual affection.
his hair was already soft when you met him, but after you started taking care of it (washing it thoroughly at least once a week, massaging it gently), it felt like silk. he sometimes asks you to wash it but apologizes profusely for inconveniencing you. the whole process is relaxing for both of you, and the gift of touching his hair makes it all worth it for both of you.
warnings: angst if you look really hard for it, mostly fluff
a/n: i have become enchanted by these people and now i cant stop please send help. also who knew i still could write things this long? ha!
masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi
so so so touch-starved, just melts whenever she gets to hug you.
holding her face and kissing her cheeks and forehead used to make her eyes water, heart ready to burst out of her chest, her arms almost automatically jumping up to hold you closer and feel your warmth.
she likes it when you hold her from behind, your hands coming to rest on her stomach like a warm anchor. she insists you do it when she cooks or brushes her teeth, every now and then pulling you to her in front of others. she just enjoys the closeness and the pressure.
loves eye contact. could spend a long time just looking straight into your eyes without blinking. you might be watching a movie or showing her something on your phone, and suddenly she’ll go quiet. when you look back at her, she’s just… staring back.
whenever the two of you are having a conversation (important or unimportant), she’ll look right at you and give you her full attention. that’s also happened when she was driving, which you had to call her out for. she just laughed you off, as if paying attention to the road instead of you rambling about something you read recently was an insane request.
gets anxious if the two of you go too long without talking, even if everything is okay. she doesn’t like being left alone with her thoughts and always wants to make sure you’re okay.
she’s also a little scared of coming off as clingy or too emotional, but she can’t help herself, and after a lot of reassurance, she eases up bit by bit until she’s completely comfortable with you.
you know her humor is less than kind at best, but the more time the two of you spend together, the less bite there is behind her words. she’ll banter with you, pull lightly on your hair, and pinch your sides when it’s just the two of you and she feels extra bold, but it seems like she’s incapable of joking around with you as rudely as she does with others.
when the two of you fight, it’s mostly over trivial things rather than anything serious. she’s always weirded out that you seem to be completely okay with the fighting, going away for weeks and often bringing work home, but end up bickering about unwashed dishes or the way you said something.
and at first, she’s fine. but as things progress and your voices start to rise, she can’t help the tears that well in her eyes, the way her voice cracks and her lip quivers. she holds your hand then, no matter how angry the two of you are, and says, “i love you right now, okay?” she only stops crying after you say it back. it’s the only way she can get through those moments without having a full mental breakdown.
she always gets creative with her makeup, eyeliner colorful and dark lipstick as usual, and sometimes she sits in front of you with her makeup bag, eyes closed, waiting for you to do it for her. she does it once a week now, excited about how you portray her and what you think looks best on her (might invite bob to one of your makeup sessions).
after you get to know her completely, you understand how much she loves building her own style and personality little by little. that means she’ll love gifts and clothing you surprise her with, but she’ll adore it even more when you take her out to pick her own stuff and then buy it for her.
she’ll start off self-conscious and shy, but as the two of you go through more stores and you reassure her that she’s free to choose whatever she wants (even that damn ugly sweater with the puffy sleeves), she lets herself get whatever catches her eye. she holds your hand the entire time and pulls you along with her.
once she found youtube tutorials on how to sew and modify clothes, she started stealing yours every now and again to add new pockets, embroidery, and other little details just to make your day. the next time you wear it, not only will it smell like her, but it’ll be way more useful (in her words).
she also feels like she’s marked you. not in a possessive way, but as a way for you to always carry her close.
your clothes are no longer just your clothes, and the same goes for hers. after a few months, she’ll just put all your clothing in her own wardrobe and get rid of any other place where you might keep your things. excluding underwear, it’s become normal for the two of you to morph into each other, your smells mingling into something entirely new.
if someone asks, she’ll say it was hers all along. but deep down, she likes that she can wear something that belonged to you, that she’s now shared the same space as you. she might deny it, but her heart always flutters whenever the two of you go to sleep in each other’s clothes. the sense of belonging floods her, and all she can do is squeeze you against her to stop her eyes from watering.
she’ll always have something ready for you to eat when you get home after a day out, maybe some of that mac and cheese that she loves so much, or a full-course meal that’ll last a few days so you can reheat it whenever you want. she also cooks extra portions when she has to be away for a while on a mission, worrying about your well being.
when you pack her lunch for the first time, it becomes her favorite meal of the day, not so much for your cooking, but because you made something for her. you thought about her before starting your day, and that’s what gets her. she likes being looked after, even though she doesn’t need to be. she refuses to share even a bite with anyone (no one asks anymore).
rainy days are her favorite days. she remakes the bed with fresh sheets, new blankets, the few stuffed animals she won for you at a fair sitting politely in the very center of it. the two of you drink tea in the kitchen, socks on your feet mismatched from the laundry, and after you put the cups in the sink, she holds your hand and pulls you toward the nest she’s made.
the window stays closed, the curtains pulled so the two of you can watch the sun go down and the rain fall. yelena sings a lullaby so low you think you might be imagining it. she lays with her head under your chin, nose buried in your neck, hands tracing shapes beneath your shirt. she can’t help but sigh happily when you hold her back, kissing her forehead and tangling your feet with hers.
she drifts off still humming, warm and soft in the safest place in the world.
request; can you write a hattie shaw x reader smut where they're on the couch and by the end of it right after they finish her brother almost catches them?
warnings; I made this with fem!reader in mind, but I don't think I was too descriptive. oral, fingering, getting caught, the works. Also very short.
characters; Hattie Shaw, Deckard Shaw, reader.
pairing; Hattie x reader
a/n; Ever since that god forsaken fantastic four trailer came out she's plagued my mind and jesus christ I'm obsessed.
Hattie Shaw is not a teenager. She’s a grown-ass woman—wanted for many crimes, a government agent, a spy, among other things. She knows how to shoot, how to fight, how to drive, how to take care of a bullet wound. She has seen people die, and she has killed before. So, you’d expect her to be mature, to handle things like a regular adult.
And yet.
And yet, she’s on a couch—Deck’s couch, of all places—laid on top of the only person who makes her palms sweat. Speaking of palms, her left arm aches from supporting her weight while her right hand is buried in your pants. Your lips touch, tongues teasing as breathless moans escape between them. Your hands can't stop moving, gliding from her face to her shoulders and back up again.
“Hattie… don’t tease,” you murmur against her, hips moving with no coordination, desperately seeking friction.
Hattie smiles, taking the opportunity to press a lingering kiss against the soft skin of your neck. Her thumb finally brushes against your clit, drawing a moan from your lips.
"If you stopped being annoying, I wouldn’t have to tease you," she says, her mouth trailing down to lick at the juncture of your shoulder and neck.
Smirking, you push her away just long enough to strip off your shirt and bra—the latter of which she had already managed to unclasp. ("Quick fingers, love. You know how it is," as she liked to say.) When you lay back again, you notice her staring.
Hattie's soft spot for you was already something worthy of note, but the way she visibly melted whenever you batted your eyelashes at her was almost laughable. It was the way your lips jutted into a slight pout, the way your brows knitted together just barely, that made her want to punch a wall and cover you in kisses.
Plus, your chest being right in front of her was a nice touch.
Swiftly, she helped you unbutton and slide off your pants while managing to kiss you in the process. You could feel her smirk against your belly as she descended lower, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly when her hands moved up to massage your chest. As she reached your navel—just a little too far from the aching spot between your legs—she bit down, and you couldn't help but tremble beneath her attention.
The rest felt like a blur. Her tongue flicking away, her fingers curling at the exact right spot, squeezing and stroking until you lost count of how many times you had finished all over her face.
And then—
With her girlfriend’s body completely exposed, her tongue shoved deep between her legs, the door suddenly swung open.
Hattie would be chastised later for not paying more attention, but in her defense, it was a bit hard to hear the jingle of keys when her hearing was muffled by moans and a pair of thighs.
"What the fuck?" Deckard's voice rang out in pure disgust before the door slammed shut with force, followed by the unmistakable sound of gagging echoing down the corridor.
Hattie flew back in horror while you scrambled to hide yourself under the cushion behind your head. You couldn’t stop laughing, your hands covering your mouth, eyes welling up with tears.
Hattie, in full panic mode, rushed to the guest bedroom and returned with a blanket, draping it over you and trying to get you up—until she gave up. You were laughing too much.
“He’s gonna kill me. I’m dead,” she muttered, hastily wiping her chin and trying to fix her hair into something less obviously just had my face between someone’s legs. "I’m gonna talk to him. Please, go take a shower. And don’t forget your panties."
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched toward the door like a woman about to face a firing squad. Meanwhile, all you could do was laugh, covering your face, too pleased and too shocked to do anything else.
warnings: crying, aftercare, cum, masturbation, talks of low self esteem, general angst.
a/n: this is outdated as shit i don't even remember writing most of this it's also short af at least i managed to post it !!!!
masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi
After her initial mistrust in you and your intentions, when she finally realized how much you actually cared for her—not just for a position among the court or blackmail—she couldn't let you go. You always had to wiggle yourself out of her grasp in the mornings.
Sometimes, she cries during and after sex. The first few times, you got scared, thinking you'd hurt her, but she just clung to you like her life depended on it. It still happens often, though now she smiles through it.
She needs very extensive aftercare, as her faith in the Seven has left deep scars on her.
She loves it when you run your fingers over her skin after she comes. She's extremely sensitive everywhere—just the lightest brush of your fingers is enough to send shivers down her spine, forcing her to bite her lip to suppress a reaction.
With her, sex is never mutual; only one of you receives at a time. If she's bottoming, don't expect her to touch you after. If she's topping, don't try to return the favor. She has a specific mindset for each role, and disrupting that order makes her uncomfortable.
She enjoys watching you masturbate, as if she's studying you, taking mental notes to use later. It's like a careful analysis—she sits back in a chair, silently observing as your fingers slide over your cunt, glistening with wetness. No matter how much you beg, she won't touch you, only watching, memorizing every reaction.
She's happy that her hands make you feel good. To her, it means she was made for more than what she has become. She watches you closely as she touches you, kissing you deeply whenever your reactions make her heart ache.
Helaena’s pregnancy was difficult, and the birth was deeply traumatic for her. It took a long time for her to feel like herself again, and even when she initiated something sexual, she often interrupted it midway. She didn’t like her stretch marks or how soft her belly had become—she just didn’t want you to see her like that.
But your patience and understanding only made her want you more. And once she overcame her self-consciousness, things got better.
She isn’t particularly aroused by garments or lewd imagery. What she craves most is to feel safe and free. Though she occasionally whispers filthy words in your ear, most of the time, she is too aware of the gods above, watching her.
That being said, if you ask her to tie you up, she might just cave in and do it—out of curiosity. (She also can’t deny the tight, curling heat in her lower stomach at your request.)
Alicent has freckles on her back and thighs, something she never really noticed before. But now that the two of you spend so much time naked together, your constant kisses on them and the way you admire their appearance make it impossible for her not to blush.
Every now and then, she asks for rougher sex. But it’s rare, and when she does, it’s usually an attempt at self-flagellation rather than for her own pleasure.
warnings: smut at some points, pretty sure it's just a handjob and a few suggestive comments, that's it.
a/n: i still got one exam left but i managed to birth this. he's a very sensitive topic for me, do NOT even mention him to me I am SAD goodbye
Calls you a bunch of nicknames all day long but freezes the second you give him the same treatment. Call him pookie once, and he'll just stare back at you, not really knowing what to do.
He's slick when he wants to be: talking lower and lower so you have to get closer to him, placing his hands near your body but never actually touching you, staring right into your eyes and then glancing at your lips, letting his eyes wander over your figure until you're shifting under his gaze.
Still, he flirts but always waits for you to initiate actual contact, like kissing or hugging/cuddling (at least in the beginning). It's both a show of how much effect he has over you and a silent question of whether or not you actually want to touch him.
The casualness of your touch sends him reeling. He loves the way you'll just brush his cheek to remove some dust out of nowhere, pull a few of his locks back from his face when he's talking to you, or straighten his clothes for him while telling him what you want for dinner.
He gets bashful quickly whenever you start touching him or talking to him near his face, and after a while—even if you've been together for some time—he just gets overwhelmed by your closeness and almost always loses focus. You have to call him a few times so he can get his mind off your lips and try to keep the warmth of his cheeks under control.
He's clearly touch-starved, and you realize this because whenever you hold his cheeks or just brush your arm against his, he chases after it, his eyes glazing over and twitching slightly in place. You make it your personal mission to keep him as content as you can, and that means touching him all the time, at any moment, for no apparent reason.
Whenever he's wearing crop tops, you run your fingers over his skin until he's shivering and almost whimpering, his belly rising and falling rapidly with your warmth around him. His hands grip the nearby table, and he bites his lip, bucking his hips up to meet your hand. It can go one of two ways: you keep going until he's coming all over your hand, teeth biting into the skin of your neck as he works through the aftershocks, or you give him a peck on the lips and leave him all hot and bothered.
Either way, what bliss.
He likes holding your hand at all times: while he tinkers, while flying around, while having dinner, in bed before falling asleep. Sometimes you'll let go because it gets too clammy, and he proceeds to grab your other one. He kisses your fingertips and knuckles and lets your intertwined hands rest near his face for a second, just enjoying your warmth.
He's always touching you in some way and feels really good (proud) whenever you return his affections in public. At the same time that he gets shy and understands that his life is not all sunshine and rainbows, he still allows himself to enjoy these quiet moments, like he's a normal guy in a normal world.
One day, you're alone in his lab, applying the white paint he loves so much on his face, being so near and yet so far. When you're done, you hover in front of him, your hands still dirty, getting closer and closer by the second. He tilts his head up to meet yours, just a little, but just enough.
And then he needs a second, just holding you a few inches from him, taking his time to get ready for your lips. He wants to do it right, and he gets so worried about it that he almost forgets what he's about to do until you pull his hands up to your face and kiss his palms, telling him that it's okay.
He pulls you closer then, touching your lips with his own, incredibly warm, and then he lets you lead. Going with the flow is easier for him than taking the lead right away. When you touch his neck, trying to get as much of him as you possibly can, his eyebrows furrow, and he almost loses balance. Please, he thinks, keep touching me.
After that, whenever you kiss him, he's just a mess. He usually rests his hands on your waist, arms, or face, never letting them wander too far without being sure you're willing to go there too, and his face warms profusely whenever you take his hand and push it lower.
He also lives for the casual pecks throughout the day, when you're just passing by or when you're about to leave him to do something else. If you happen to wear lipstick, his cheeks will receive a colorful, sticky look from how much you kiss them. He might pretend to forget about it just to parade your mark around.
After a while into the relationship, he's not as fidgety, but still feels his heart race whenever you lean in to kiss him.
Whenever it's raining (and it's actually safe to go outside), he grabs you by the hand to run around in it, splashing you with the puddles on the ground, grabbing you and spinning you around until both of you are dizzy. Then he kisses you with wet lips and cold cheeks.
His favorite part is after, when the two of you take off your wet clothes to dry off. The intimacy of being able to take care of you in your most vulnerable state makes him feel good about himself.
He loves dancing too, pulling you to him even when there's no music, swaying from side to side—sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly—but always hiding his face in your neck to feel as close to you as he physically can. He especially loves it when you hold him back as hard as you can, singing along to a song or murmuring a melody you remember, as a reassurance that you need him as much as he needs you.
Taking naps around the firelight base, or just on the tree itself, his arm over your belly as your heads are turned in each other's direction. The warmth of the little sun that filters down there keeps both of you comfortable for a long time. Sometimes you wake up and it's already dark, making the two of you laugh.
He kisses your forehead and pulls you close, his head just above yours, hugging you tighter when you give him a light kiss on his neck. His heart beats in the same rhythm as yours.
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