So I'm officially posting my first fanfiction this Friday!!âşď¸ I'm super excited but nervous! This fanfiction will be Bob Reynolds x Original Character. I know a lot of people aren't a fan of that but you guys are more than welcome to read Mya (my OC!!) as yourself! I'm truly excited to have her be in this fanfiction & it centers a black woman! The prelude will be posted Friday, just an introduction to her, before the main story drops! I hope you guys enjoy it! đŤśđž
heart to heart - ch 3: we have to got stop meeting like this
jason todd x magic user!black fem reader
warnings: cussing, slightly angsty, dead bodies/morgue
word count: 1,907
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a/n: so i did say i was gonna double post and i did !
Male, fifteen, overdose.
Female, twenty-one, overdose.
Female, twenty-five, overdose.
Female, thirty, overdose.
The files mock you, black ink on thick, white paper. The letters dance like teasing children with accusatory pointer fingers. Your irritation and frustration burns inside of you and bubbles over in the form of hot tears that stain your cheeks.
All you want to do is help people, save people, and it seems like all youâve done since you stepped foot in Gotham is find dead bodies and have misunderstandings with the local vigilantes. Youâre supposed to be finding clues and connections and all youâve gotten is a street drug thatâs been climbing in popularity and powdered foxglove, which is proving difficult to trace.
You know that overdose is an oversimplification of the matter and that magic swirls between the gaps you canât quite close. You feel it deep within the marrow of your bones, but whoever is doing it has enough knowledge to cover their tracks and the skill to execute it perfectly.
Youâve spent the better half of the day holed up in the apartment you rented, pouring over every single grimoire, spellbook, and magic manual you own, hoping you would find something that would point you in the right direction. And when that failed, you turn to your crime board full of scribbles and red string. Nothing on it made sense and the more you look at it, the worse you feel.
You wonder if your new acquaintance felt the same way. If under his mask, his face creased with frustration and desperation.
You wonder if the victimsâ families sit in the rooms of their loved ones and beg for answers that make more sense. If they breathe in a scent that chokes them with grief and makes them question everything they believe in.
âUgh.â
What youâre doing isnât helping you and you see it in the tremor of your hands when you push the loose curls of your braids from your face. You need to get out of this apartment that doesnât quite fully feel like home. Grabbing one of your leather jackets off the coat rack, you tell yourself that you need fresh air, that the one in here has become stale and suffocating.
The September breeze kisses your face, grounding you. Youâve done little exploring outside what was necessary for the investigation and your appetite. You take in the old buildings, some that seem like the slightest touch would send them tumbling down and others that seem like theyâve withstood the test of time. The city has its own sort of charm, one that inspires goodness and madness alike.
You remember how when you were younger, Zatanna would tell tales of Gotham like spooky campfire stories and you would act like you werenât scared until the night was too dark and the space under your bed was much too terrifying. Then you would appear in the crack of their bedroom door, eyes begging for comfort and protection. John would mumble something in London slang you hadnât quite grasped yet and a new stuffed animal would appear in his hands, promising to protect you.
Your hands toy with the pendant of your gold necklace. You miss them. Itâs still too tense, the wound is still raw enough that all you can muster is an âIâm okay, love youâ text. You tell yourself that after all of this was over, you would go back home and talk to them. You would go back and they would look at you with pride and forgiveness.
The kind of forgiveness that was a bit stronger than the kind you offered a particular costumed individual a little over a week ago. One that he took in with a relieved sigh when he made it back to his apartment right before dawn. His body sunk into the couch and his mind replays the conversation, and he hates how it betrays him by already committing your smile to memory.
Jason winces when he remembers what he said, thereâs times where the voice modulator hid more than his voice. It hid the awkwardness that lurked in between his consonants, and he was beyond grateful. And he noticed something about yours; that it was pillowy-soft, you spoke like even though life was heavy it didnât weigh on your tongue in the way it did on his.
He runs his hands through his hair and yawns, âShe forgives too fast.â
The last few days of September faded much like the colors of the autumn leaves. October brought its pumpkins, horror films, and skeletons. However, it didnât bring any clarity on what was going on.
Jason tugs at the ends of his hair, the sun slowly creeping up behind him, and his bed beckoning him to succumb to slumber. His eyes sting with exhaustion, itâs been a heavy week. The lack of progress in the case and the constant fear that heâll stumble on another body with the same knowledge he has now and not a hundred steps closer to the killer, is not exactly doing wonders for his mood.
Even if the crime scene photos scream at him to look them over for the nth time, thereâs not much heâll be able to do if his body starts to shut down due to lack of sleep. It takes him a shower, some scribbles in his journal, and few pages of the new book he picked up earlier this week before his eyes fully close and his breathing becomes deep and steady.
And he begins to wonder if there were some hidden fees in the sleep debt he recently paid back or if he was still stuck in one of those dreams that felt entirely too real. Because thereâs no way heâs watching you stick your arm through the wall of Gotham City Morgue.
More of your limbs emerge from the gray wall and Red Hood steps back, letting the shadows swallow him. You head toward the drawers, fingers running along the cold metal as you try to find the most recent body.
âDo you only have one jacket?â
âDo you always wear that silly ass hood?â
He ignores your response, âKinda important you check itâs clear before you walk through the wall. What if I attacked you?â
âWouldnât be the first time,â You hear a sigh and you fight the urge to laugh, âand I knew you were there.â
âMhmm.â
You see his left arm reach to the pull open the cooler right above your right hip, the man you were searching for, laying there with nothing but a thin white sheet covering him. You whisper a âThank you,â and it doesnât take long for that familiar, rotten smell to hit your senses. You hate breathing it in, but you have to know what else lurks underneath the surface.
âGinger⌠Witch-hazel, lemongrass, vanilla and cedar.â You recite slowly, like youâre trying desperately to connect the dots.
The vigilante pushes the manâs head to side gently, showing you a roman numeral seared into the delicate skin behind the right ear.
âThey all have this, the first one starting at zero.â
Your eyebrows crease in confusion, âDid you see anything else?â
âHad anâŚoutside source do another autopsy and the cause of death is poison. There was never enough Bliss in their systems for it to be an overdose.â
âItâs the foxglove, the symptoms are really similar to an overdose,â You explain but you donât stop there, âthe other herbs⌠itâs like theyâre sacrifices or maybe ritual. I just donât know.â
Red Hood crosses his arms, âAssuming sacrifices have to have something in common, the only connection is the drug and even thatâs sparse. They didnât have the same dealer.â
You chew on your bottom lip. Youâre missing something and not finding out means another person will fall victim to an unfair death.
He watches you, and itâs like he can see you force-turning the gears in your head. The knowledge of magic he has is limited to what he learned during his time with the League and thereâs aspects of this he doesnât understand. Jason thought you would have more answers, but itâs like both of you only have a quarter of the larger scheme.
Your hands tug at the hem of your miniskirt, frustration pricking at your nerves, âItâs magic, I can feel it. When I was around each of them before, it was so faint⌠almost like nothing. But now with all of them in one place, itâs like a buzzing in my ear. And I can feel that itâs incomplete.â
âThen when is it complete?â
âI-I donât know.â
âWe donât know how theyâre picking their victims and they kill erratically, some are days apart and others are weeks. Feels like weâre just waiting for another body to turn up.â
Your face falls and Jason wonders if he snuffed out the flicker of hope you mightâve had. It wasnât his intention, but he was trying to be realistic. Gotham was ugly and more often than not, it takes more than it gives.
Before any other words can be exchanged between the two of you, his phone buzzes in his pocket; a reminder about the family dinner he promised he would attend.
âGotta go. Next time we see each other, maybe weâll have more answers.â
He pulls up the window, getting ready to disappear into the night. Until he feels a touch graze over his shoulder, so light it was almost like you were afraid that anything harder would make it too real or would cause him to fall apart.
âWouldnât it make more sense for us to work together?â
Together?
Together meant a baseline of trust, it meant relying on each other. It meant being vulnerable. His ego and pride werenât the problem, itâs the other softer more tender emotions that make it difficult. And even if Jason was changing lately, and was opening his heart up once again to the rest of his family, you werenât someone he knew. He would be navigating uncharted waters.
Heâs worked on teams before; the idea of collaboration isnât a foreign concept to him. Itâs just you, you were his point of contention.
But you were looking at him a little too sweet, too expectant, like a cat showing its belly. And he hates to admit it, but you were right. Waiting to run into each other to exchange information wasnât working. It would make more sense to pool your resources and work together.
You watch him fiddle with something on the side of the metal that covers the lower half of his face.
âOkay.â He breathes out soft, and you notice itâs only soft. No crackle, no static, its all him and his voice alone.
âOkay.â You repeat back, awestruck about not only his agreement but how much you like the sound of his voice. But you wonât let that distract you and give him enough time to change his mind.
You dig in the inner pocket of your jacket, pulling out a small notebook and a pen. You scribble down your address and phone number.
You rip out the page and hand it to him, âWe can meet at my apartment and figure it out from there?â
Jason nods, trying to hold back a snort at the irony that youâre staying in Coventry.
âI can come over to yours tomorrow night, is that good?â
genre: fanfiction, original character, black OC, Bob Reynolds fanfic
warnings: cussing, mild depictions of blood/violence/death, mentions of guns/bullet wounds
word count: 1,717
a/n & summary: first official chapter to the story!! Finally introducing Mya into the mix through Bob's pov a bit (this will be in 3rd person though!) Enjoy!!âşď¸
----------
Chapter 1
Nervous fingers fumble around the gun as if trying to find the rhythm to a song that wasn't quite playing yet. Dark blue eyes dart around the dark hallway, the light at the end of the hall flashing on and off.
"Bob, how're you doin back there?"
"Huh? Me?"
Yelena glances over her shoulder to Bob, but continues to keep moving.
"You are the only person named Bob here, so yes, I'm talking to you," she responds dryly. Bob nervously chuckles as he fixes the strap on his shoulder from the gun. "Oh, uh, yea, I'm good, just finding the right way to hold this thing - gun," he quickly corrects himself, to which Yelena quietly chuckles. "You know you don't need the gun though, it's just like how we practiced," she says, her pistol steady and firm in her hands. Bob watches closely, trying to mimick his friend now.
It had been about six months now since they- and he- had also become the new avengers. It was all so surreal, to the point he oftentimes questioned how he got to this point. The memory comes in and out like someone fighting to remember a dream, but it only came in small parts, and even then, they were blurry and vague.
"Bob."
He blinks, leaving his thoughts as he jumps into action, awkwardly running to the opposite side of the door from where Yelena stood. She watches closely, making a face Bob knows all too well by now. "I'm good," he whispers, gripping the gun a little tighter. "I just, you know, feel a little awkward on missions but I'm good," he reassures, more to himself than to her. Her eyes remain on him for only a moment before she gives him the signal, just like how they trained. Yelena opens the door with a quiet swiftness as she aims her gun to one side, Bob to her back, his gun pointed to the other side.
"No one on the first floor," Ava's voice calls through the earpiece.
"No civilians on my side either, what about you, Belova?" Walker asks, his footsteps slightly heavy on the other side of the earpiece. Yelena's eyes scan over the bodies of scientists on the floor, one with a knife in his throat, another with a needle in his eye, and the last one with a purple bruise acround his neck. "Hmm, found the scientists, but they're definitely not alive," she replies back noticing certain scratches, bloody noses, busted lips, clearly revealing they put up a hell of a fight before losing. "Not sure who they were fightingâŚbutâŚ" her voice trails off as she reaches the control panel in the room, one big red button in the center of it all, and a big screen.
"What?" Walker immediatly replies.
"I see that this is the control room, so maybe something here can show us why these scientists killed one another."
"Wait, the scientists killed each other?" Ava asks, slight disbelief in her voice.
Bob looks around the room as two men, both dressed in clothes a guard would wear, rather than lab coats, were on the other side, both with bullet wounds to their heads. His stomach immediately flinches at the sight, turning away, doubling over. "Two guards over here-" he says, shoving back down his vomit.
Yelena's eyes shift to where he's at, seeing him fight for his life not to throw up, before catching the two guards on the floor. "With us still, Bob?"
Bob gulps loudly, shooting up a thumb, while bent over still.
"He's throwing up again?" Ava asks.
"Probably," Walker shoots out, to which Yelena rolls her eyes, fingers typing away on the control panel.
"No, he's not. And these people definitely killed one another in here, the bodies he found shot one another before taking themselves out, but there are scientists in here. So whatever was in here, it was important, maybe caused them to freak out? Kill one another?" She says, trying to understand the mystery of the scene.
"No, that doesn't make sense. They all had the same goal, whatever happened made them kill each other," Bucky responds from his end.
While the others are speaking and poking at different theories, with Yelena hacking away at the database, Bob sighs heavily, finally keeping his chicken salad sandwich from earlier down for good this time. As he straightens himself up, a slight, quiet sensation creeps up his spine. It feels cold, unsettling, fearful but also deeply upsetting. And while it's faint, it is undeniably present, like a whisper calling out to him.
"Oh and that's because you know everything? Like the last mission?" Ava says through the earpiece.
Yelena snickers, Bucky smirks, while one could practically hear Walker rolling his eyes from his end. "First of all, I didn't know he was gonna pull the switch- and you guys said y'all weren't gonna bring it up again."
Bob follows the feeling, like a pirate to a siren's song, until finding someone in the very back of the room. A woman. She's barefoot, dressed in an outfit akin to that of a jail suit, only the color of a grey-ish blue. Her curls are slightly matted, spread out beneath her head. There's blood on her chest, her eyelids are shut, yet a slightly troubled look is present on her face. A needle protrudes out from her neck. Ouch.
This feeling pours from her body, slow, faint, but there. Is this a civilian? She's not dressed like the others, she's hurt too.
"Okay, how about we focus on the mission?" Bucky calls out.
"Oh now you wanna focus on the mission, but not when Starr and Belova were bringing up old news," he snaps, not upset but clearly annoyed.
"Bingo," Yelena shoots out through the conversation, finally reaching the control room cameras.
"I think it'd be good to retrieve that footage," Bucky suggests, as the video begins to play.
Meanwhile, Bob crouches low to the woman. His mind debates on what to do. Should he take the needle out? Should he call over Yelena? Should he- no. He could help too, he could also think on his own in this environment. He wanted to believe he was just as capable of helping others.
On the other side of the room, Yelena watches the grainy footage calmly. She takes notice that one guard unlocks the door to the room. Hmm, so it can only be unlocked through the inside. She makes a mental note of that, as the other guard onscreen clearly looks shocked. The two guards would argue for only a mere second before one was put down by the other guard. "What theâŚ" she softly says, watching as the guard then began hitting random buttons, opening something or someone. A woman suddenly rushes into the room right when the guard takes himself out. "There's a woman that entered in here, but the guards must've opened those cells we came across before taking each other out, but I don't understand why."
Bob reaches for the woman, wanting to do exactly as he was trained: check for a pulse. His hand moves to her exposed wrist, fingers touching for only a moment, before he feels a flood of emotions.
Fear. Anger. Confusion. Sorrow. Longing.
Then, images flash before his eyes. The woman that laid before him, stood before a door, approached by men in suits, glimpses of hope, before a pale hand rested on her shoulder, and something icy yet hot pierces through him, like a warning that came far too late. She went from running to being beaten, then to a metal collar clasped around her neck, anguish that felt as deep as the sea, that felt as old as time itself. She went from a cell to bursting through the exact room they were in, men and women both after her, her voice yelling through the mic. "Fight back! They can't stop all of us!" She kicked, slapped, punched, scratched, ran around the room before being pinned to the wall with a needle jabbed deep into her neck, a prick Bob feels himself, before something akin to delirium entered the space. His heart raced, as her body dropped to the floor, the scientists then turning on one another, a siren blaring, far too loud for him to hear Yelena calling out to him.
And like being pulled from a daydream, the vision fades into darkness as he feels a pull, strong enough to knock him onto his back. His vision comes into view, as Ava's mask stares down at him, brows furrowed in worry. Everything still looks the same in the control room, same light flicking on and off, same bodies on the floor, however Yelena stands on the other side, eyes wide in shock and Bob can practically feel Ava's eyes glued to him through her mask.
He looks back at the woman before him, still unconcious.
"W-What happened? Did I blackout again?" He asks, looking between them both.
"I-I don't know but the room started getting dark-what happened? Did you see something?" Yelena says, quickly making her way over, eyes shooting to Ava one second before looking back at Bob. He blinks. What happened exactly?
"IâŚI don't know. I just, uh, I just wanted to help. I wanted to see if she was okay- so I just tried checking her pulse, but when I touched herâŚ"
"So all of that happened when you touched her?" Ava chimes in, glancing at the woman, to which Bob only nods, replaying the images, feeling those emotions as if they were his own, but they're not his. Was he nervous? Yeah, with everything going on but anyone would feel that way on a mission. However, he did not just feel anxiety, but betrayal, confusion, even sorrow so deep it crawled into the marrow of his bonesâŚbut he was currently content with life, with no betrayal, so what happened? What was that? He feels hands wrap around his arms, pulling him from his thoughts and to his feet, turning to see Yelena helping him up.
"Looks like we found our first suspect to this shit show," Ava states, as all eyes settle on the woman before them, the video replaying in the background.
genre: fanfiction, original character, black OC, & angst writing
warnings: cussing, general/mild descriptions of blood & violence, bullying, name calling, & neglectful parenting
word count: 1,170
a/n & summary: this is the prelude to a fanfiction about Bob Reynolds x black feminine original character I have, named Mya Jackson. This is just an introduction post to her past before I post the official first chapter! Hope you guys like it!đ
"I just need a moment."
Is all Mya whispers to herself as she enters the restroom, shutting the door to the messy room had been long forgotten. Her heart was racing, palms sweaty, mind overwhelmed with feelings that were not her own.
Jealousy.
Anger.
Curousity.
Delight that was more sour than sweet.
Shed'd grip both sides of the sink, eyes squeezed shut, as she was deep within her own thoughts. I can taste my own mouthâŚI can smellâŚ
She sniffs the air around her, the faint smell of toothpaste and cheap body spray filled her nostrils. I can smell toothpaste and Lana's perfume. She'd take a deep breath as she could feel each emotion coursing through body, as if they were children much like herself, trying to catch her attention.
She shook her head faintly, hands gripping the edge of the sink even more, fighting the growing urge to sink her fingers into her fro and pull at her curls.
I can hear-
"Looks like she's having another psychotic break again."
Mya's eyes fly open, catching Renee's reflection through the mirror: arms crossed, smirk ever present, eyes gleaming with malice. Mya's skin crawled in reaction to Renee's aura, as she spun around to face her bully. She'd take a deep, shaky breath, her nerves slipping through her grasp. "I'm leaving the bathroom, you can use it," she says, words pouring out of her mouth, head down as she tried walking out, only to be met with a hard shove back into the small space. A small grunt leaves Mya's lips as her back hit the sink.
"I don't wanna use the restroom," Renee says, smirking wildly.
Mya's eyes scanned passed the tall girl, as more children began crowding outside the restroom: some smiling, some watching with stunned expressions, others gossiping quietly to one another. And like the flow of water entering the sea from a stream, she could feel everything even more. The curiousity made her sweat like a sinner in church and the simmering anger that was beneath the surface of the many children, made her skin feel as if she was standing inside an oven, and the anticipation felt like cold water that was being tossed on her, to get up and be alert for whatever was to come. "Don't look at them. Look at me," Renee orders.
"I don't wanna fight, okay? Can't we justâŚcan't we just skip this, Renee?" Mya pleas, each word being pushed out rather than them being smoothly said.
Renee brings her fingers to her chin, green eyes shooting up to the ceiling to think. "Hmm, I was thinkin about leavin you alone but then I remembered how Alyssa and Charles would be out today," her eyes fall back on Mya, and the hair on Mya's skin rises as Renee smiles more. "And that means no one's comin to save poor lil Mya," Renee mocks, taking one step forward, Mya taking one step back in response. Renee brings up her knuckles, cracking them in declaration of what was going to come next. "Plus I've had a shitty day anways, need someone to soften it, ya know?"
In moments like this, Mya usually let the words fly about, let the shoves and pushes land without much pushback, and the tricks and teases go unpunished, but in this moment? She didn't feel much of what the others were feeling but rather her own anger. It felt like a pot of water that was boiling on the stove for far too long, water dissipating until there was nothing left but a scorching pot upon the eye. "Rrrahhhh!" Mya shoots herself forward, slim fingers bawled into a fist, raised high, blinded by pent up anger. Renee smirks as her arm shoots up to stop Mya's punch, her free hand lands a punch on Mya's ribs. Mya grunts loudly as Renee's foot comes into contact with her stomach, sending the smaller girl flying backwards to the sink, her head hitting the mirror in the process.
"Ohhh!!"
"Damn Renee!"
"Oooo!"
The room erupts into unneccessary commentary and cheers as Mya falls to the bathroom floor. For a moment, just a moment, she feels nothing before a sharp pain prickles her head. It's wet and warm, almost heated in the way she was pulsing in that moment. She'd bring her fingers to her forehead, wincing sharply at the pain intensifying for a split second, before pulling back to see her red stained fingertips.
"Damn Renee, you knocked her ass into the fuckin mirror-"
"She'll live," Renee snaps, eyes burning into Mya. "Wanna try some shit like that again? Hmm? Want yo ass beat again? Hmm? Because Imma lay you down every time!"
Renee's words go in one ear and out the other as Mya pushes herself up once again, anger fueling her actions, as she swung her fist forward, blood stained glass in hand. All the chilren gasps as Mya swung first, Renee barely side stepping the slash, shock blossoming between both girls, before Renee's fist greeted Mya's mouth. The glass flies out of Mya's hands as she falls onto her back, before her leg repeatedly kicked her.
"Bro, she tried stabbing ReneeâŚ"
"She's actually crazy."
"Are you fuckin crazy!? Trying to stab me! Knew there was something wrong with you!" One kick after another landed on Mya as she curled into a ball, her mind no longer in the present moment. Why me? Why is this happening to me? If they really don't like me, why won't they leave me alone? Just leave me alone!!
Mya's hand shoots out right when Renee's foot is about to strike again.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" Mya yells out, tears streaming down her face, voice heavy with grief, anger raised to the brim.
Renee freezes, eyes struck with fear, as if a ghost of her past had appeared before them both. All voices in the back die out immediately upon seeing both girls utterly stuck like statues and silent. And for a moment, it seems as if everyone is afraid to speak⌠before one boy does so. He takes a step into the restroom, eyeing them both. "UhâŚRenee? You-" his voice falls short the moment his eyes catch her light blue jeans slowly turn dark, a trail leading down to the floor, a small puddle pooling around her.
"Ayo, what the fuck-"
"What are ya'll doing all crowded by the bathroom?"
Everyone immediately tries scattering away from the bathroom as Renee stumbles back, her lips quiver, voice soft and broken, as tears stream down her face. The foster parents, Alyssa and Charles, step into the restroom, eyes shooting between both girls. "What the- what happened?" Alyssa asks, eyes darting around the scene as Renee fell into Charles's arms, breaking into complete despair while Mya laid on the floor, silently crying herself.
That day she realized two things: she could not only just feel what others were feeling but also control their emotions as well.
heart to heart - ch 1: gotham has way too many alleys
jason todd x magic user!black fem reader
warnings: cussing, slight angst, use of weapons, mention of dead people/bodies word count: 1,713
m.list next -> pinterest board
a/n: iâve always loved dc and i havenât been feeling a spark to write for anime sooo here you go! is this a little self indulgent ?? most definitely !!
London often looked like the greyscale was a permanent feature and the Sun only came out to do the bare minimum. It was a dreary city plagued by downpours and offensive scents. But Gotham?
Gotham was worse.
It stunk of desperation and death, as if something sinister lurked around every corner. Signs flickered like a plea for help in morse code. Your heels clackagainst the uneven sidewalk, the locator spell ringing in your head like a built-in navigation app. You turn down a dark alley, your nose immediately scrunching in disgust at the pungent smell that fills the air.
âThat shit stinks.â You mutter to yourself.
A few feet further down, you were met with a sight that stilled your heart.
You bend down next to the body and your eyes sting with tears.
Tears of anger, of sadness, and a few of disbelief. Thereâs an ache that accompanies every heartbeat; sheâs the same age as you.
The same age and yet, she laid on that cold concrete, heart unbeating while yours starts to pound harder in your chest. Her life, her soul, her very essence being used as someone elseâs means to acquire power.
And you know when the police finally find her and zip her up into that suffocating black bag, her death would be labeled an overdose, when it was much moreâ when she was much more than that.
You donât blame GPD, they were overworked and underpaid. But how can anyone look at her and not simmer with rage?
You pull a glove out of the inner pocket of your leather jacket, sliding it on your right hand before using your pointer finger to swipe up a small sample of the powdered foxglove. However, something else lingers underneath the rotting smell. Itâs pleasant, a soft and creamy scent.
But vanilla and foxglove is an odd pairing, and you have to admit something about this doesnât make sense. A death that presents as an overdose, yet it looks like the life was drained from her. Not to mention the fact you couldnât sense anything.
As sure as the blood pumping through your veins and the air filling your lungs, you could feel the hum of magic in everything. Almost as if there was a special frequency it rang at and you were the only one who could hear it.
Thatâs why this was so puzzling. There was no magic, not even hint of anything mystic coming from her. The only thing you could feel was the herbs and even that was so faint.
But that wasnât going to stop you. The dead deserve answers just as much the living do and you were going to deliver them.
With a slight groan, you stand back up to your full height. You call the police, giving them an anonymous tip about the body, hoping they would come quick. Gothamâs midnight air is unforgiving and all you can think about is how cold she must be.
As you walk away, you make a mental note of all the things you observed, trying to rack your brain as to what magic this was, if it was magic at all. Suddenly you hear something creak like a ghostâs footsteps on a wooden floorboard. Your head whips around and you catch a glimpse of something black and red darting across the rooftops.
Park Row had its frequent fliers: petty thieves, drug dealers, and every criminal in between. And every night, whether Red Hood broke through the glass of a skylight or jumped down from the rafters, he was doing what he thought was best for Gotham.
That was until a few weeks ago, when he saw the graying skin of a teenage boy, and for a moment, it was almost as if he saw himself, fifteen and unmoving. He tried to find a stab wound, a bullet, anything to pinpoint who couldâve done this and he found nothing. Nothing but a powdered substance that smelled oddly of rotting flesh and cedar wood.
Over the next few days, it consumed his every waking thought. He bust down doors and threw right hooks trying to get answers to all his burning questions and when that didnât work, he spent hours in the BatCave pouring over old police records to find any connections.
When he came back from patrol one night, phone screen lighting up with a notification that the autopsy was completed, Bruce was one step ahead of him. The autopsy records pulled up on the BatComputer the second they hit GCPDâs database.
Jason remembers reading those bold letters.
And reading them again. And again. And again.
Cause of Death: OVERDOSE.
He knows what an overdose looks like, what addiction looks like, and it didnât look like that. It didnât look like baby fat and bright eyes.
Clearly, he wasnât alone in his suspicions either because Bruce stood in the corner, phone pressed to his ear and all Jason heard the tail end of the conversation. A name that sounded like it started with Z and agreement to call back when both parties had more information.
But that wasnât enough.
Maybe Jason had lingering feelings about what he saw as Bruceâs inaction, maybe he saw a little too much of himself in that child. No matter the reason, someone would answer for their crimes.
And it was almost too perfect; there you stood, or more accurately, crouched next to a victim who seemed to have died under eerily similar circumstances. But he saw the way your brown eyes shook with tears, the frustration in your furrowed brows, and how you fiddled with the pendant of your necklace.
Red Hood isnât saying you were completely innocent, but something definitely wasnât right. Confusion swirls in his brain like smoke. How were you at the body before anyone else? And why did it look like she had been dead for hours?
As you walk away, he jumps from one rooftop to the other, dead set on following you to your next destination until you turn the corner and all but disappear.
âFuck.â
The rusty fire escape groans under his weight, stealth at the moment no longer matters and his frustration starts guiding his actions. He runs one gloved hand along each brick wall of the surrounding buildings, hoping to find a hidden door. With every growing second, itâs becoming clear that he wouldnât find what or who he needed. He knows he can find you or more accurately has to find you, but a feeling of incompetence starts to bloom in his chest. And itâs malicious and hungry for hurt, so it begins to feed on his insecurities.
Failure.
Youâll never be like them.
In what world are you ever a hero?
Beads of sweat gather in his hairline, stress and anxiety raising his body temperature. He tries to concentrate on using the scanners in his mask, but even they reveal nothing but layers of dry wall and poor Gotham construction. He begins to wonder if the next time heâll see you is next to another dead body and how he would be too lateâ too late to save another person.
Since the night you found that body, your dreams were plagued with her. The realization that rigor mortis had set in and that the paleness that painted her skin was permanent. There were times where she would blink and her head would turn towards you with a sickening crack of her neck, and a single desperate plea would fall from her lips.
âHelp me.â
You would wake up in a cold sweat, tears staining your cheeks and a thought as quick as a hummingbirdâs wings passes through your mind: âWhat if I fail?â
But self-pity doesnât offer any assistance and most definitely wonât help you solve whatever is happening. The only thing you can do is go back out there and track down whatever, or whoever, is haunting the backstreets of Gotham.
It was only half past 6pm and the nighttime darkness hung heavy in the sky like blackout curtains. Your platform boots leave behind wet footprints on the sidewalk, courtesy of the puddle you had almost slipped in earlier. You can practically hear Zatanna and Johnâs voices scolding you about being on your phone while walking, but you were taking care of important business.
âRed HoodâŚâ You muse.
Your encounter with the shadowy figure has been bothering you, festering in the back of your mind like the embers of a bonfire. And when you woke up this morning, it became an unbearable itch for answers. Youâve spent the last hour researching everything you could on this person and youâll admit, your curiosity was getting the better of you.
Youâve heard about the fear Batman strikes into the hearts of criminals, but Red Hood was something else entirely. They made him out to be some sort of boogeyman that would lurk in the closets of bad men and rip their throats out with his bare teeth. Itâs not that you didnât believe in his lethality, you just found it interesting they talk about him like that.
Commotion from down the street pulls your attention away and you pick up the pace, only to see a crowd of onlookers, police cars, and caution tape. You push through the dense crowd, offering gentle âexcuse meâsâ when disgruntled huffs left their lips. When you finally make it to the front, youâre hit with a familiar scent of rotting flesh and even though your vision is blurry due to the all the bright flashing lights, you already know what happened.
You push through the crowd again, abandoning your manners this time. You need to get closer, you need to figure out if the foxglove was mixed with something else again. You need to see their face and gather your evidence.
Fortunately, there was another side unoccupied by bystanders with only few police officers standing guard. Maybe with a glamour or invisibility spell you could slip past them and get what you need without getting caught.
Unfortunately, there was a certain someone who is hellbent on not letting that happen.
Shiing
The cold metal of a blade presses against your carotid artery.
âMove and the police will have another body to bag tonight.â
a/n: i hope everyone liked it so far !! i'm excited to post the next part <33
Okay, I think I'll do a little test writing for the upcoming Bob x Black OC fanfiction! Like, maybe a prelude of her character? Before beginning the main story!! I think that'll be fun! It will be a small intense prelude but opens y'all up to her character!
OCTOBER 5TH : APHRODISIAC ⊠KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
synopsis: when investigating an abandoned lab, bob accidentally breaks a vial containing a mysterious substance, leaving him and yelena to work you through the fallout.
tags: 18+ MDNI, dubcon, aphrodisiac/drugged sex, threesome, fingering, blowjob, penetration (p in v), platonic boblena, team dynamics, we're totally just doing this to help you hahaha we'd never fuck sober hahaha
wordcount: 4.2k
requested by: @deltamel <3
EASY MONEY. Thatâs how the mission was described to you, anyways. Something simple according to Valentina. Just a smash-and-grab at an abandoned lab on the outskirts of Bucharest. The instructions were almost insultingly simple:
1. Find the experimental serum.
2. Call a retrieval team.
3. Hand it over to Rossâs people.
4. Go the fuck home.
Except nothing with the New Avengers was ever easy, and you have a sneaking suspicion that this is about to blow up in your faces. Figuratively or literally, itâs inevitable, and very often the latter with this lot.
Yelena is the first to say it out loud. âSimple mission, my ass,â she mutters from the co-pilot seat, fiddling with the front of her combat vest. âPlace your bets on how we die today.â
âYou always think weâre going to die,â Bob chips in brightly, far too cheerful for three people discussing their own mortality.
âThatâs because we always almost do,â she deadpans. âIâm just being realistic.â
You look up from the tablet in your lap, adjusting your headset. âRelax. Itâs just recon. It canât be that hard.â
âThatâs what you said in Berlin,â Bob says.
âBerlin was an outlier!â
âBerlin was a shitshow,â Yelena cuts in dryly.
You sigh as Bob laughs in the seat next to you. Definitely not winning this one.
With the rest of the team on the other side of the country visiting a similar lab, youâre stuck as a trio. Not that you mind. The three of you work well together. Surprisingly so, given how different you are. Bob, a bundle of energy to get you through hard times. Yelena, sharp and unpredictable, chaos in human form. Youâd like to think youâre somewhere in the middle. Alexei likes to call you the glue of the bunchââah, it iz my favourite neutraliser!ââthanks to your ability to talk everyone down when sparks fly.
And boy, do they fly.
The jet touches down outside the old facility at dusk. The air is thick with fog, and Bob shudders at how eerie it looks as you all clamber out of your seats.
âWhyâd we have to do this in the dark? This mystery thing would be way easier to find during the day,â he complains. (And gets ignored, as per usual.)
âThermal says minimal heat signatures,â you supply informatively with a glance to your wrist display.
âWell, at least we arenât walking into a nest,â Yelena says. (But chambers a round anyways.)
âOh! We got lucky.â Bob shoulders his gearâheâs not much use when he isnât being all creepy and powerful, but heâs content enough with the role of glorified equipment mule.
âWhen have you ever been the kind of man to rely on luck?â Yelena flashes a toothy smirk over her shoulder.
His smile fades at that, a look of mild offence briefly crossing his features. But he holds out a hand to help you down the ramp anyways. âSuch a gentleman,â you drawl, and he brightens up immediately, spending the rest of the walk into the facility grinning proudly to himself as your pilot departs.
Inside, the lab is mostly stripped bareâempty containment units, shattered glass, flickering lights. You can still smell the sharp sting of chemicals in the air, faint but persistent.
âCreepy. I donât like it.â Bob wrinkles his nose behind you.
You canât help but agree. The place is so quiet you can hear your own breathing, quickened with nerves. You almost jump when Yelena flicks on her flashlight, sweeping it across the ruined lab benches, shards of glass glinting menacingly on every surface.
âLooks like they packed up in a hurry,â she mutters, crouching down to inspect a cluster of overturned canisters. âOr... someone made them.â
You follow her gaze to a set of marks scarring the floorâparallel lines like someoneâs boots had been dragged against the floor. Bob lets out a nervous laugh. âMaybe the janitor just sucks at cleaning.â
Yeah. You all doubt that.
The deeper you head into the lab, the worse it gets. Flickering emergency lights hum overhead, casting the hallways in stuttered bursts of red and shadow. You half expect someone to pop out screaming from every door you pass.
You tighten your grip on your sidearm. âThermals still clear,â you mutter. âNo life signs.â
âLetâs split up, then. I donât want to be here any longer than I have to,â Yelena says.
Despite Bobâs obvious reluctance about not having someone to (metaphorically) hold his hand, the three of you split off to search in different directions. Eventually you stumble across a lab room significantly less destroyed than the first oneâyou doubt youâll have much luck, but itâs better than roaming dark hallways with scary flickering lights.
Youâre only halfway through tagging sample cases when you find it. A row of vials sealed in a reinforced crate, the liquid inside glowing faintly pink under your flashlight. Thereâs something unsettling about the fuchsia shimmer.
âUh, found something,â you mutter into your comms link.
When you regroup, Bob gives a low whistle at the sight. âPretty. Like a Valentineâs Day gift.â
Yelena stifles a snort. âYeah. Iâm sure youâve had a lot of luck giving pretty girls weird chemicals from creepy labs.â
You tune out their playful bickering about Cupidâs arrows to kneel down, studying the label on the side of the crate. âProject Eros,â you recite aloud, and they fall silent, eyes shooting towards you. âExperimental biochem formula.â
âTranslation?â Bob asks with a tipped head, rocking back and forth on his feet.
You shrug. âThereâs no data sheet. Could be anything. A pheromone enhancer, neural stimulantââ
ââOr poison,â Yelena chips in.
â... Or poison,â you sigh.
Bob groans. âGreat.â
You reach for the scanner tucked into your belt, intending to log the crate for Rossâ team to pick up⌠and thatâs when Bob loses his balance behind you from his bored rocking. His hand hits your shoulder to keep himself upright, knocking you against the crate. The vials within jostle as you catch yourself.
âFuck, carefulââ
âSorry!â He grimaces, straightening up and patting your shoulder apologetically. Before you can reply, you hear the hiss of a pressure seal. A thin mist shoots out of one of the cracked vials, coating the air around you.
âShitâ!â Yelena lunges, grabbing you by the arm to yank you back while Bob stumbles out of the way. But itâs too late. Youâve already inhaled it. The pink haze shimmers, disappearing in seconds, leaving a metallic taste in your mouth and a rush of heat in your chest.
Yelenaâs voice sounds sharp and distant. âYou okay?â
Your heart is racing and your skin tingles with static. âIâI think so,â you manage shakily, blinking out of it.
âIâm so sorry!â Bob says, hands raised in panicked surrender. âI was justâ I didnât mean toââ
âLetâs just get her out of here,â Yelena interjects, already requesting extraction on her wrist. All the easy teasing from before is gone, her brows pinched together as she studies your face for any adverse reactions. âRun some tests back at base. Maybe itâs nothing.â
But as the jet lifts off minutes later, the heat under your skin doesnât fade. When Yelena straps you in to the sound of Bobâs profuse apologies, it only spreads. It feels like a molten crawl along your sensitive nerves, lighting you up from the inside.
By the time you get back to base, you feel like youâre about to die. Not from pain, or blood loss, or any of the usual ways someone in your line of work dies. But from pure fucking horniness. You canât imagine a more embarrassing way to go.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat as Yelena hovers above you to check your blood pressure. The baseâif you could even call it thatâis a humble thing. A low-level apartment on a busy street, hidden in plain sight. The kitchen youâre in is stocked with rations and medical supplies, though youâre certain half of them are expired.
Your skin feels too tight, and your breath catches as she touches your arm. Just a slight brush of fingers has you fighting the urge to jolt.
âAre you okay?â She asks, brows pinched together.
âIâm fine,â you lie through your teeth, voice rougher than it should be. âJust⌠warm.â
Bobâs preoccupied with pacing on the opposite side of the room like a caged animal, talking animatedly with his hands. âI knew I shouldnât have come. It never goes well. I ruin everything. Oh my god, Valentina is gonna kill meââ
âShut up, Bob,â Yelena snaps, eyes never once leaving you. And then it hits suddenly. A wave so strong it makes your thighs clench under the fabric of your suit. Yelena watches as your pupils dilate when they land on Bob.
Itâs so sudden it takes you by surprise. This sudden, overwhelming hunger coiling tight inside you, fixated on him. On his stupid earnest eyes, his stupid broad shoulders crammed into a too-tight shirt. Heâs fidgeting now, and you have the sudden urge to pin those hands down until he stops moving.
But itâs not just him, you realise, when your panicked eyes snap back to Yelena. All cool and sharp-eyed with blood on her lips from biting them with worry as you snuck back into the city. With her, the urge is to taste where she bled. You inhale shakily as the drug sinks deeper into your bloodstreamâeverything feels amplified. The scent of Yelena next to you, the sound of Bob wringing his hands nervously, the feeling of want between your legs.
And suddenly, Project Eros is making a lot of fucking sense.
âShit,â you whisper as it dawns on you.
Yelenaâs eyes narrow. âWhat is it?â
You canât bring yourself to answer. Not when the truth is so humiliating.
What are you meant to say? That all you can feel is something twisting through your body like liquid arousal, sharpening every sense until all you can think about is them: Bob with his stupidly pretty face and that lost-puppy look in his eyes, Yelena with her razor-sharp grace and blood on her lip.
âIâm horny,â you blurt out.
Oh, okay. That works.
A strangled noise of surprise escapes Bob. Yelena manages to remain a little more composed, clearing her throat. âHorny?â
You squirm awkwardly in your seat, forcing yourself to avert your eyes. Your body flushes hot under your skin. âYeah. I donât know. I just feel warm. And really, really turned on. Like, you donât even understand how wet I am right nowââ
Bob chokes on another sound.
ââSorry,â you grimace. âMaybe itâs making me honest too. I just⌠fuck. I really want to fuck you both. Oh my god, I canât stop talking.â
Thereâs a perverse sort of joy in watching Bobâs face turn red, eyes wide as saucers. You promptly file that away as another symptom of the drug. Yelena hovers awkwardly by your side for a moment.
âWell, thatâs flattering,â she says, a weak attempt at lightness.
âIâm sorry,â you repeat, shifting in your chair. Your thighs chafe together, and the slight friction between your thighs has you stifling a desperate moan. âI donât know how to make it stop. Maybe I need to just sit in a cold shower until Valentinaâs people get here.â
âCanât we help?â Bob tries. You both turn towards him, and he falters for a moment like heâs unsure of himself. Then, with a confidence he doesnât necessarily feel, âI mean, it was my fault, right? Iâm kind of responsible for getting you out of this.â
âHow are we supposed to help her? Fuck the horniness out?â Yelena counters exasperatedly.
The silence that follows her question looms awkwardly. Because the truth is youâve all been thinking about it since you blurted out the dreaded words of Iâm horny. Itâs the only viable solution when youâre surrounded by expired medical supplies and a double bed in the next room.
â... Yes?â Bob says with uncertainty.
âYes,â you blurt out at the same time with significantly less.
Her gaze shifts between you. âWait, youâre serious..?âÂ
âDeadly.â You shift again, the dampness between your legs making you ache with an impatience you havenât felt in a long time. âPlease, Lena? Iâm going insane.â
Yelenaâs breath catches in her throat, then she stutters out a dry laugh. âJesus. Okay.â
Bob is still frozenâwide-eyed and red-facedâbut the thought of him being useful forces him out of that temporary paralysis. He owes it to you to fix what he broke, right? Thatâs the only reason his cock is stirring in his pants. Probably. Maybe.
âOkay,â he says. Then louder: âOkay! We can do this.â
So, the decision is made. Yelena helps you out of your chair and ushers you out of the kitchenette towards the bed. You stumble a little, legs weak, as she aids you into a sitting position on the edge. Bob hesitates as he follows, but when you reach out and tug at his waistband, he falls into the space in front of you like a well-trained dog.
Yelena exhales sharplyâhalf laugh, half disbelief. âWeâre really doing this.â Not that she makes any effort to put an end to it, taking a seat next to you.
Bob is looking up at you with those big, dumb eyes of his, half-expecting you to snap out of it any moment and tell him heâs insane for suggesting this. So you cup his face and pull him down until your lips brush his ear.
âDo I need to beg?â You whisper. âBecause I will.â And when he whimpers, you do. âPlease, Bob,â you breathe. âLet me suck your cock.â
Bob didnât think he had any more blood left to blush withâespecially considering how much rushed to his cock as soon as you agreed to thisâbut fuck if his face isnât on fire. Itâs like some dirty fantasy: come to life: smoking hot teammate needs you to fuck her to save her from drug. He makes an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat at the thought.
For a secondâand you arenât sure whyâyou think heâs going to say no. But then:
âUm. Okay.â
A low laugh bubbles out of you. âOkay..?â
He nods, more confident this time. âIf it helps, IâveâIâve just never reallyâŚâ
âWhat? Had your dick sucked?â Yelena chips in from your side.
âNo!â He protests. âIâve⌠Iâve had sex. Like⌠a few times, actually.â She laughs. âJust never, yâknow, like this. With a friend. But itâs just to⌠to help you out, right? Cure you. So itâs fine.â His hands fall to the button of his trousers, nervously fumbling to undo them.
âLet me,â you murmur, voice already thick with need. You undo him yourself, zipper dragging down, loud in an otherwise quiet room. Then the fabric is shoved down just enough to free his cock. Heâs already hard, twitching as the cool air hits him.
You didnât think it was possible to be any wetter than you currently are. Even Yelena seems to enjoy the sight of his flushed pink cock (though maybe she just thinks it's amusing how easy it is to turn him on), humming with approval next to you. You lean forward, licking a slow stripe up his shaft, moaning at the salty taste that fills your mouth.Â
Then you take him deep without hesitation, hollowing your cheeks around his thick cock while he gasps above you. âFuckââ He chokes out, fingers trembling against your shoulders. âYou donât have toâ I mean, I just want to get you off and fix youâ you donât need to do thisââ
You pull off just long enough to smirk up at him, eyes hazy from the aphrodisiac pulsing through your blood. âI know I donât have to,â you whisper, tongue dragging along his veiny underside. âI want to.â
Yelenaâs hands find your hair, pulling it out of your face as you devote yourself to sucking him off. âThere you go,â she murmurs, and you catch the hitch in her breath when your lips glide down Bobâs length.Â
Heâs already a whimpering mess above you. He can barely bring himself to meet either of your eyes, as if thatâll make it too real. Like you arenât already sitting on the bed of a safe house with your head bobbing in his lap.
You can feel it building higher: that desperate, coiled heat in your belly, rising with every slide of his cock against your tongue. Yelena leans in closer over your shoulder, studying the way your lips stretch around him.
âThere you go,â she murmurs. âNice and slow.â
You take him deep, eyes fluttering shut as your mouth works at his cock. Soft sucks, long pulls, tongue swirling around the head before diving back down until your nose is nuzzling into the hair at his base. Bob briefly wonders whether youâre always this skilled with your tongue or Project Eros has just made you insanely good at giving head.
âIâI canât⌠oh, God. Thatâs so goodââ He canât quite help himself, fucking into your mouth with slow, desperate thrusts. And then heâs whimpering suddenly:
âWait, wait, wait. Supposed to making you cum, not meââ
With a wet slurp, you pull off of him, an obscene string of saliva connecting you to his tip. You wipe sheepishly at the corner of your mouth. âRight.â
Yelena helps ease you onto your back, hooking a thumb under your waistband. âLift for me,â she prompts, and slides the fabric down your hips. Your underwear follows, and both of them inhale sharply at the sight of your cunt. Youâre glistening with desperation, legs parting wider under their hungry gazes.
âSuch a pretty pussy,â she breathes.
âYeah,â he echoes stupidly.
Yelena braces a hand on your thigh while the other brushes through your damp folds. Tentative at first, but she grows bolder when she feels how soaked you are. A Russian curse slips out that flies right over your head.
âYouâre drenched. All this just for us?â
Both of them know thatâs not technically true. You were seconds away from humping your hand for relief in the kitchenâitâs not quite them youâre eager for. But the thought is arousing nonetheless as you squirm desperately underneath them.
âCan IâŚ?â Bob asks.
Her hand withdraws, replaced with his own. You moan as he slides two fingers easily into your eager cuntâslow at first, then curling in a way that has your back arching and a broken cry slipping out. âMore,â you whimper, grinding against his trembling hand. âPlease. I need more.â
He obeys instantly. A third finger sinks inside you as Yelena guides him deeper with one firm push to his wrist. âThatâs it. Finger her like you mean it.â
Bob stammers something about not wanting to hurt you, but the way youâre clenching around him and bucking against his hand has his protests dying away. The wet sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the cramped room.
But when he starts to falterâfingers slipping from the sheer panic of having someone this undone because of himâYelena rolls her eyes and nudges him out of the way. âLet me,â she says. âYouâre never going to get her off that way.â
She takes over as he apologises bashfully, shifting out of the way with his cock still throbbing between his legs. And then her fingers are working you beautifully: strong, precise strokes that hit exactly where you need them, a practiced thumb gliding over your clit. When she leans forward to spit on your hole, fucking her saliva into you with deep strokes of her fingers, your thighs clamp around her hand at how filthy it is.
âOhâ oh, Lena, thatâsâ mmââ
Bob can only stare. You look like heaven, with your head thrown back and lips parted in ecstasyâbut Yelena looks like a goddess, perched above you as she works you towards the edge with ease. Her bleached blonde hair falls into her face, bitten lip caught between her teeth in concentration.
âFuck,â you whine, jerking against her. âRight thereâ mâgonnaââ
A wave of pleasure hits you before you can finish. Your back arches up off the bed, toes curling inside your boots, and a choked cry tears from your throat as your orgasm rips violently.
She fingers you through it until your back hits the bed again, then pulls her fingers out slowly, glistening with your release. âTold you I knew what I was doing,â she smirks. âTake notes, eh, Bob?â
Youâre still trembling and coming down from your high when you realise you can still feel it. The heat of the drug pulsing through you, and the aching feeling of emptiness. It takes every ounce of strength to look up at them both, breath still ragged.
âIt didnât work.â
âWhat?â She asks. Bob looks concerned, fiddling beside her.
All you can manage is a helpless, humiliating whimper. âIt wasnât enough. I need more.â Your hips cant upwards. âI still feel empty. Like⌠like I need something bigger.â
Yelena glances at Bobâor more accurately at his cockâthen back to you. âYou want him to fill you up?â She murmurs.Â
Youâd be embarrassed by how eagerly you nodâjerky and desperateâif your mind wasnât currently clouded with insatiable lust. âPlease,â you pant. âI know Iâm asking a lotâ oh, Godâ but I need it.â
âItâs worth trying,â she says after a moment of deliberation. Your thighs, already slick with your release, clench around nothing and you almost feel like crying when you hear Bobâs hesitant voice.
âAre you sure?âÂ
âPlease,â you repeat, entirely devoid of the usual mortification that comes with begging.Â
He hesitates for just another moment, then withers under Yelenaâs sharp look. âOkay.â
You roll over, positioning yourself with your ass high in the air. The thin fabric of your underwear is still hooked around one thigh, but you donât bother yourself with removing them. Just spread your legs wider and look back at him over your shoulder.
âBob,â you whimper, bottom lip jutted out. âPlease hurry.â
He scrambles behind you, his cock already thick and wet from his unfinished blowjob. One hand braces on your hip, the other wrapping around himself to line up with your dripping cunt. Then he pushes inside.
âFuck,â he grunts, eyes rolling back at the warmth and tightness surrounding him as he sinks in inch by inch. The stretch has you groaning into your forearms, walls fluttering as they adjust to the size of him. âI didnât think Iâd actually be doing this. I thought Iâd justâ ah, youâre so tightâ I donât know. Eat you out, or something. But this is so much better.â
âMove,â you beg, fingers twisting into the sheets as he bottoms out. âJust fucking move.â
He obeys instantlyâshallow thrusts that make your spine bow and your breath hitchâbut is not enough. Not when you can feel that fiery heat burning through you, desperate for release. So you rock your hips back to meet him harder.
âFaster,â you moan. âHarder.â
Bob almost stumbles forward with the force of it, then adjusts himself. He grips both of your hips and starts to fuck into you in earnest. Each thrust drives a cry out of you, bed creaking against the wall to the rhythm of his movements.
You feel the bed dip next to you with Yelenaâs weight, and two hands on your stomach. One snakes up under your shirt, palming one of your breasts through your bra.
âOh, whaâ?â
âExtra stimulation,â she cuts you off, as if groping your tits is necessary right now when you already have Bob fucking you senseless. But any remark about that dies in your throat when her other hand slides down further, gathering the creamy wetness around your hole as he pummels into you. She drags it back up, fingers slick against your swollen clit, circling it gently.
âNghhhââ Bob moans out as you clench around his cock at the feeling. âIâm gonna cum if you do thatââ
Yelenaâs hand manages to find its way under your bra cup, fingers gently tweaking your nipple, and thatâs what sends you over the edge. Your face buries into your arm and you cry out, fluttering around Bobâs thick cock as Yelena rubs you through it in tantalising circles that have your legs trembling.
âWait, Iâmâ fuck, relax. Squeezing me so tight,â he chokes out. But he barely manages a few more sloppy thrusts before heâs whimpering his way through his own orgasm.
âAh, s-sorryââ He stutters out as the warmth of him floods your cunt without permission. His pulsing hot release floods down your thighs as he hastily tries to pull outâas if the damage hasnât already been doneâwith a grimace.
Both of Yelenaâs hands retreat, and you collapse into the sheets with a sigh. You donât want to get ahead of yourselfâor maybe you do want to keep goingâbut with your cunt (somewhat) full and your body thrumming with the pleasure of a second orgasm, you feel better.
Or, more accurately, you donât feel like youâll die if you donât get fucked anymore.Â
âI think Iâm good,â you mumble into your arm.
Bob collapses onto his back next to you with a groan, face flushed with exertion and sweat beading along his hairline. You barely have it in you to turn your head towards Yelena. Only now has it dawned on you that she hasnât found the same release you and Bob have.
âYou didnât get toââ You start.
âOh, no need. Iâm a professional,â she declines, leaning back lazily on her hands. As if she hadnât been knuckle deep in your cunt and telling you how pretty your pussy was five minutes ago. âOne of us has to be fit to answer the call and explain why weâve been radio silent for half an hour post opp.â
That pulls you back to an unfortunate reality. âShit,â you laugh weakly. You know youâre all in for a lecture about incompetence and the sheer audacity of the three of you to sleep together instead of waiting for them to get a medic on the ground.
âWell,â Bob says chipperly, still panting. âAt least we know thereâs a cure!â
Yelena who knows how to flirt but only when itâs under the pretense of getting information . So when youâre hitting on her in a bar she has no clue how to actually take the advances.ďżź
Yelena who gets really flustered when you make it obvious that youâre interested and think sheâs hot, but not hehe blushing flustered. Blue screen almost visibly confused flustered but her confused face sits so closely to one of a scowl that you think sheâs not interested.
Yelena who cringes and bumps her head down against the bar counter when you apologize and walk away cause thatâs not how that was supposed to go at all last she checked
Yelena who frequents the bar after that in hopes of bumping into you again and when she does she throws you what she hopes is a friendly smile. And this time is responsive and has some kind of hold over what her face does.
Yelena who gets your name and number that night and goes back to the tower to do a deep dive and get whatever she can find on you. She thinks itâll help her feel like this is a mission and there for sheâll be more equipped but all she finds is your instagram , college records, and a few parking tickets that give her nothing to go off of
Yelena who has to do the second most mortifying thing she can think of and ask John Walker how to flirt with girls before your date that weekend. Because as far as she knows heâs the only person on the team whoâs had a decently long healthy relationship. So she deals with the teasing and quips all for him to tell her to call you pretty and just be polite which is everything she planned on doing and completely unhelpful.
Yelena who shows up to your dinner date in a pair of corduroys and that same striped blouse she broke into kateâs house in. Who trips over herself internally when she sees how nice you look but externally gives a tight awkward smile and soft but genuine compliment. Opening doors and pulling out your chair when you sit.
Yelena who thank the lord loosens up during dinner after a glass of wine. Who is finally able to show off her dry humor and witt instead of staring at you like jasper cullen. She still stares but itâs softer , more contemplative , and only when she thinks you wonât notice.
Yelena who walks you home cause she watches movies and thatâs what supposed to happen. Interlocking your fingers as your knuckles brush hers for the fourth time . And who gives you a tentative but earnest peck on the cheek when she drops you off.
Yelena whoâs a dream to date. Who plans things once she starts to pick up on what you like to do an enjoy. Picnics , cat cafes, festivals in the park. Who is hard to gauge sometimes but if you ask her questions she answers honestly and if she isnât ready she puts a pin in it. Who knows when to push and when to simply exist in your space on bad days.
Yelena who while inexperienced isnât a saint. Sheâs aware that things are gonna get heated eventually. Sheâs just also a little too confident in her ability to gauge how things are gonna go and how well sheâs gonna do once actually in the situation after a few nights of âresearchâ.
Yelena who kisses you outside your apartment at the end of one of your dates two months into things and when things start getting heated is too excited to act right. Whose kisses are a little too toothy and sharp but who learns fast and takes corrections with no fuss.
Yelena who suddenly, as sheâs pushing you against your couch, remembers that she really truly has no goddamn clue what the hell sheâs doing. Who kinda regrets not getting around after escaping the red room cause now she feels like a fish out of water. Who resigns herself to the fact that sheâs gonna have to actually admit to being new at things out loud before you just think she sucks.
Yelena who is a little mortified when you chuckle and say you figured but feels better when you tell her you donât mind teaching her a thing or two. Who stays on top but lets you have the reigns as she straddles your lap and you kiss her like sheâs something valuable not just useful.
Yelena whoâs hips start to roll against your own before she can even realize it but doesnât have it in her to be embarrassed when you hold her waist and help her set a steady rhythm. Who lets breathy moans sheâs never let anyone but herself hear leave her lips and fill your mouth . Who shudders against your thigh when the pressure and friction catch just right against her clothes cunt causing her to clench around nothing
Yelena who starts to realize a little too late that sheâs getting off on your leg and has left you high and dry . Who pulls away from your mouth to ask if you want to switch but when your lips come into contact with the sensitive skin of her nape quickly shuts down the prospect of stopping.
Yelena who lets out the most melodic moans known to man and groans you can feel in your stomach as she grinds against you. Whoâs hips are starting to pick up pacing along with her breathing that gives you just enough of a hint for whatâs coming before it does.
Yelena who throws her head back and lets out the most broken raspy moan of your name youâve ever heard in your life as strong legs press against your thighs and hips rutt animistically against you as she cums in her pants.
Yelena who is all to aware and very embarrassed about the fact that she just came virtually untouched in her pants . Who looks down at you with bashful and almost tentative eyes only to be met you own that are blown wide in arousal and adoration. Who apologizes anyway even if you brush them off because that was totally not cool.
Yelena who has no idea what sheâs doing but sheâll learn and sheâll learn quickly as long as it means she gets to learn with and for you.
Summary: Void has been growing desperate, seeing how you and Bob fucked whenever you guys wanted to. He also wanted his turn with you, he wanted you to know how good he could make you feel.
Warnings: Shameless smut, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dom and sub undertones (i think), rough sex, overstimulation (if you squint), small reference of substance abuse.
A little bit of cute romance Bob for like two lines lol!
You had been dating Robert Reynolds for a while now. Ever since you first saw him, you felt pulled towards him, that weird gravitational attraction that you only get once in your life. His dark messy hair, his deep blue eyes, his charming good-boy smile, they melted your heart since day one.
You loved how he was when you two got intimate. He was soft, delicate, yet somehow desperate, almost submissive at times. He could be at your feet whenever you wanted him too, begging you to touch him, begging you for more. And you loved him like this, you loved how desired he made you feel.
You knew about the Void, he had told you about him after your first night together, expecting you to leave like everyone else did. But you? You stayed. You can't deny you were scared at first, you knew how hard it was for him to control it, to control him. Nevertheless, ever since he joined the Thunderbolts, things were actually looking brighter. Bob came into peace with Void, and Void came into peace with Bob. They even talked to each other and Bob even allowed Void to manifest himself and do everyday things. And whenever he did, he was surprisingly normal. You just chatted and kept him up with everything, he became like another friend to you, another version of the puppy eyed boy you loved.
You were already accostumed to seeing Bob speak to himself, you knew he was talking to Void. But lately he seemed jumpy, uncertain. Whenever he spoke to himself he made sure to leave the room, it was like he didnât want you to hear him, to hear them. It wasn't until one morning, when you were sipping coffee, that your boyfriend approached you, eagerly sat down, and said;
"I want to talk to you about uhm....something."
"Oh, what is it babe? Everything ok? âŚ..Is it something at work?" You asked shyly. His recent demeanor had you worrying that he may had relapsed, or had problems dealing with Void again.
"No, its just uhm. Its about Void" He said, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your eyes.
"Oh. Is he making you upset again?" You asked, eyes widening.
"No, its not that its just. You know how he has feelings too and needs too, right? Like he is kinda human after allâŚ.I guess. And, you know, uhm, we are like at some level the same person, so if I like something or need something he tends to feel the same way. That's why I let him take the lead sometimes, and talk to you, and go for walks, and eat and stuff" He is jumpy, shy, acting like the first time he ever talked to you. You must admit it, Bob was extremely timid, but now, he looked almost ashamed.
"I know that baby. I get that and I've told you I'm ok with that. I understand." You look deep into his eyes, stretching out your hand over the table to grab his. You knew he was insecure about his "conditionâ, yet you had never seen him this way.
âItâs just well, he had this idea, well I guess we had it cause I agreed and all. You know I love you so I guess he loves you, soâŚâ
âSoâŚ?â
âSoâŚ.ugh how the fuck do I say thisâŚgodâ He brought his hands to his head, and furrowed his eyebrows. âUhmâŚwell..â
âBobby, babe, you know you can tell me anything. You know I am willing to help you as long as it means you can control him and you guys can be at peace.â You looked at your boyfriend sincerely, you were truly willing to do anything for him.
âWell, he wants toâŚuhhâŚ..he wants to fuck youâ
âOhâ Your cheeks turned red. âIâŚI donât know what to sayâ You canât say you hadnât thought about it before. About knowing how this other side of your boyfriend was, how he would touch you differently, feel you differently. But it was always just a fleeting thought. You never thought Bob would allow something like this.
âI mean if you donât want to itâs fineâ
âNo no⌠Iâll do itâ You smiled at him.
âOh thanks babe really, I canât thank you enough. This guy, you know, he was driving me crazyâ He stood up, reached over and kissed your forehead, cupping your face in his calloused hands. âI love you so muchâ He smiled, his eyes brightening.
âI knowâ You smiled back.
He reached for your lips, pulling you into a soft, delicate kiss. And suddenly, he stopped. His eyes, still blue, turned somehow dark, like if a fog had taken over. He pulled away, smiling, he was still Bob but, not your Bob. He smiled cockily, confident, and looked straight at your lips. âHey thereâ
You stood up, now aware. âVoid..?â You looked straight into his eyes.
âIn the flesh, babyâ He pulled you into a long, deep kiss. His lips grazed yours roughly, he was desperate, hungry. His tongue exploring every single part of your mouth. His hands were everywhere, he grabbed your hair, cupped your face, touched your waist. It was so different from Bobâs delicate kisses, yet just as delicious. You replied back, putting your hands on his torso and sliding down, keeping up with all that he was giving you. He was so rough, so desesperate, you felt your whole body aching for him, that familiar feeling building up between your thights.
Sloppily, in between kisses, you made your way towards your bedroom. Clumsily tripping over stuff as you did. You got to your bedroom and he stopped, looking into your eyes âYou are so beautifulâ. He hugged you and held you up as he kissed you, slowly moving towards your neck. His hot breath against your skin made you feel otherworldly, you felt his desire in every single kiss. You moved your hands towards his shirt, trying to take it off without breaking the kiss. He looked down at you and smirked âPathetic..â He cockily took his shirt off with just one hand, and took yours off just as easily. (God, has he been practicing this??) In a couple of swift movements you were completely naked, and him in his in underwear, his torso glowing under the sunlight.
âso fucking pretty for meâŚâ He whispered, out of breath as he laid you in the bed. He climbed over you, his eyes locking with yours as he trailed kisses from your face, to your neck, and then to your torso. âSo, so fucking prettyâ He said as he took his mouth to one of your breasts. He kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue in slow, torturing circles around your nipple. Grabbing your other breasts with his free hand and pinching that nipple as he sucked. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue in your breasts, alternating between each one, kissing and grabbing, making you feel so sensitive. You were sure your breasts were already sore when you felt him start trailing his kisses down, his hot lips grazing through your skin. âIâm gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, youâll forget youâre even dating goddamn Bobâ.
He got to your clit and started kissing it, so slowly, yet it felt like so much. You looked down, into his sweet dark eyes, he looked beautiful. His long hair framing his face as he looked straight at you, face buried between your thighs. He went slowly on your clit, he wanted you to beg him, to make him know how hard you wanted him. âMâŚmoreâ
âWhat was the baby?â
âMore⌠pleaseâ You whined. You felt pathetic, writhing under this man. You felt his tongue slide through your folds, teasing them before he went all in, alternating between sucking and kissing your clit, and sliding his tongue through your folds. You moaned and whined, you felt it through your body, his tongue was hot against you. You felt yourself get wetter, you needed him, all of him, everywhere.
Almost as if he heard you, he suddenly added a digit into you, expanding and pumping. You couldnât keep up with everything, his finger reached deep, into that sweet spot your boyfriend would always reach. Instinctly, you reached down, grabbing his soft hair and pushing him deeper towards you. He looked at you and smiled, he was so fucking cocky and you hated it, yet he made you feel so good, so used.
He inserted another digit and you felt your boyfriendâs cold rings against your entrance, his fingers curling as his tongue kept torturing your clit. Your moans were almost pornographic at this point. Loud, whiny, pathetic sounds came out of your mouth. âThose sounds baby, keep making them.â He said as he smirked at you, fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly. You felt the heat quickly building up, like you were about to spill in any minute. âMâgonnaâŚgonna cum..â you managed to get out in between your moans. He smiled, and started sucking harder on your clit, keeping the same pace with his fingers. You quickly felt your core tensing, and with a moan came undone into his hands, breathing heavily and writhing from the pleasure. Your mind was foggy, and you saw stars.
âSo good for me baby, arenât you? Such a good girlâ He took his hands towards your waist, and started trailing them through thighs, kissing them and caressing them. âThat was so much..â You said, still slurring on your words. âOh but it wasnât enough for me baby.â You heard the smile in his words as he took off his boxers, carelessly tossing them to the side.
He climbed on the bed and aligned himself with your entrance, sliding his cock through your folds. You were so sensitive that it already felt like too much, and he hadnât even entered you yet. He looked at you, grabbing your face as you felt him go in, causing you to moan. You were so wet for him that it just slid in, no pain. You were already used to your boyfriendâs dick yet seemed to always forget how utterly big he was.
He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, and started pumping into you slowly, his eyes praising you as he did. You felt him him hitting deep into your core. Slowly, torturing you, making you feel each and every trust. He slowly kissed your neck, leaving marks all over you as he steadily increased his pace. You felt how much he filled you, overwhelmed by how his cock felt against your folds, and how his mouth was nibbling the skin of your neck. âIâm gonna fuck you dumbâ he shamelessly whispered against your ear as he quickly started on a pace, going harder and faster into you. You were already so sensitive and now just felt completely cockdrunk. You couldnât control the moans that were escaping you, and couldnât even keep your legs straight, going limp under him, completely vulnerable to his touch.
He took notice of your reaction, and moved his hands towards your waist, pinning you down into the bed as he mercilessly fucked you. Each thrust leaving you out of breath and making your mind foggier. You could only feel him, it was so overwhelming yet so good. You could only feel him going faster, harder, giving you everything he had. You closed your eyes, unable to handle everything he was giving you. âOpen your eyes, I want you to see thisâ he said, as you looked up and saw his hair framing his beautiful face.
His pace quickly became erratic, small moans escaping his lips as you felt that familiar feeling growing inside of you again. He kept holding down your waist as you whimpered, choking out every single time he hit that spot. He looked down on you, mouth open as he fucked you. Then, with one last long thrust, he came undone into you, filling your insides so perfectly. And so did you. Feeling your mind go completely blank and your body get overpowered by that heat, legs shaking with one last, loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, rolling over as he took deep breaths.
He looked at you. Your mind still foggy and fucked out of comprehension. âGod, now I know why Bob loves you so muchâ He said as he cupped your face in one of his hands. Leaning in to kiss your forehead, and smiling as he looked into your eyes. You smiled back, catching your breath.
This is my first fic here!! Taking any recommendations or prompts. Lowkey thinking about doing a sub!Bob fic. Tell me your thoughts!! Love you guys!! <3
synopsis: three times you and bob are almost walked in on and the one time you are
content: nsfw, 18+ minors dni, leg humping, oral (m receiving), handjob, early morning sex, unprotected piv, (some) plot
notes: uhhhhhhh really needed to write bob smut! this was supposed to be short lmaooo thank you for the support of my other works! xoxo
word count: 6.6k
this blog contains 18+ content, minors dni!
on the couch (winter)
itâs movie night and everyone is late.Â
yelena had texted, telling you the group would be stuck in traffic and to not start until they got back. that was almost an hour ago. bucky had walked into the living room, found you and bob waiting a little too inconspicuously on the couches and turned on his heel, going back the way he came.Â
youâd looked to bob then, grinning conspiratorially as you crawled down the length of the curved couch, right into his side.Â
itâs innocent enough, at first. muffled by his shirt in your face when you tell him that itâs only because youâre cold, and he warms you up better than anything else could.Â
he gives you a lookâlike he knows what youâre up to but canât find a good enough reason to refuse himself the feel of you. makes something warm in his chest when he thinks about how youâre always looking for any reason to touch him, that you donât shy away.
he likes it, because while your relationship isnât exactly new, he still worriesâdoesnât know if he could bring himself to initiate it even if he wanted to (he really, really does).Â
but when you come to him, he welcomes it. revels in it, actually.
his arms lift, wrapping around your frame. immediately, youâre enveloped by the smell of his laundry detergent and the 2-in-1 shampoo heâs been trying to use up before opening the real shampoo and conditioner youâd bought him.Â
his chin rests atop your head, breathing steady while your fingers aimlessly trace lines down his sleeve.Â
âyâknowâŚâ you say, trailing off in the way he knows means youâve got something to say that likely will get him in trouble. he holds his breath.Â
âweâre the only ones here,â you continue, pulling your head back to look into his eyes, hoping those pretty blue eyes will take the hint.Â
bob laughs softly, eyes flickering across the utterly empty room. the christmas decorations the team had spent an afternoon assembling, ending up a little lopsided and mismatched hanging above the mantel and from the ceiling. the string lights twinkle in your eyes.Â
 âyeah,â he breathes, âi- i can see that.â
the look you give him is expectant, and he blinks owlishly in return.Â
he watches your nose scrunch when you try to decipher whether heâs being clueless on purpose or if he genuinely canât fathom what youâd want to do with him in an empty room on a couch much too big for two.Â
the noise you let out is a cross between an exasperated groan and a teasing giggle. your cheeks burn a little when you tell him plainly, âi want to kiss you, bob. make out a little.â
his lips fall into a perfect little âoâ when he exhales the syllable. you grin up at him when his ears turn red.Â
âi- i mean,â he stammers, darting between you, your lips and the elevator doors. you can almost tell when he makes up his mind, gaze catching on your lips and struggling to drag them back up to your eyes. licks his lips before he says, âokay.âÂ
he only catches a glimpse of the giddy look on your face before youâre pulling him down to you with a gentle hand on his cheek.Â
he kisses a little unsure, a little messyâbut god, does it send pleasant shivers down your spine when heâs the one to part your lips and glide his tongue against yours.Â
you sigh contentedly into his waiting mouth when his grip on you tightens, and his hands start to roamâlike the more he kisses you the less restrained he remembers to be.Â
âw- we⌠we should-â he sighs against the side of your face when your head tilts to press your lips to his cheek, chest rising and falling hard.Â
âwe should probably move,â he manages to get out on the third try, voice raspy and deep. his blue eyes have gone dark, half-lidded as he rests his forehead on yours, catching his breath.
heâs probably right. the chances of you getting walked in on are rising by the minuteâyou can only imagine the shit youâll get if the team finds you and bob, equally flustered and dazed.Â
but bob makes no move to get up, to peel you off from where you cling to him, just to make that long, cold walk to somewhere more private. you hold your breath, mentally debating if itâs worth it.Â
bob licks his kiss-swollen lips, and the choice is made for you.Â
your arms tighten around his neck, pressing impossibly closer as you capture his lips between yours. a knee goes between his, and presses dangerously close to where heâs starting to stiffen in his plaid christmas bottoms.Â
bobâs head jerks back, curls jostling as he gasps. his hands flying to your hips to pin you down before you can do any further damage to his already-crumbling restraint.Â
you know you shouldnât tease. youâve only seen bob at his most vulnerable a handful of times, all in the comfort and safety of your rooms, locked away from the world.Â
but heâs just so pretty, and when he makes sounds like that just from your leg, you canât stop yourself from doing it again, and again, until heâs whimpering and reaching a hand down to hold back your leg. a little pointless, considering how his hips buck in search of more.Â
âthey- theyâre going to come back,â bob chokes, lashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. white-knuckled fingers twitch against your thigh, âsomeone could see.â
and youâre about to argue otherwise, that theyâre not about to just walk in the next second, but itâs like heâs summoned them with magic, or spoken it into existence.Â
the elevator dings twice, announcing their imminent arrival. you have seconds before the team files into the room and finds bob borderline humping your thigh.Â
bob yelps in alarm, his hold on you tightening in reflex as the âfreezeâ part of his fight or flight instinct takes over. slapping at his hands, you climb out of his grip, launching yourself to the opposite end of the couch.Â
when the team walks in, youâre on your phone scrolling haphazardly, glancing up in faux-annoyance when they mill about. you chew them out for being late, and bob is grateful for the distractionânobody asks why his cheeks are so red, or why heâs more jittery than usual.Â
by the time the lights are turned off and everyone is placated with snacks and a christmas movie, bob thinks heâs off the hook. but then youâre squeezing into the only seat left with an innocent smileâbetween him and bucky.
the super soldier side-eyes you when the movie ends and bob still has that damned pillow clutched over his lap.Â
in the shower (spring)Â
the water beating down against slick tiles does a halfway job of muffling the sounds coming from your bathroom.Â
it hadnât been your intention, when youâd agreed to help yelena train bob, to end up caged under him in the shower.Â
youâd lingered in your doorway while yelena disappeared into hers, already wriggling out of her sweaty top. bob had come to a slow stop behind you, waiting for the telltale swoosh of the blondeâs door closing.Â
thereâs something about that post-exercise high, the rush of endorphins in bobâs system that makes him walk with his shoulders a little less curled and his gait steadier. his limbs are loose, and the slow blink he gives you while he leans against the doorframe makes you pause.Â
it reminds you of when the sentry peeks through. makes you swallow, peering curiously at his eyes but noâonly crystalline blue already staring back. Â
his hair stuck to his forehead and a light sheen of sweat around along his throatâevidence of how much heâd pushed himself. thanks to the serum, it takes a lot for bob to work up a sweat these days.Â
ââm gonna shower,â you say simply, and that was that.Â
heâd followed you all the way into your room, set his things down next to yours and waited patiently until the water warmed to get his hands on you.Â
he descends on you, big hands engulfing your cheeks, kissing you hard. itâs hungry, and your teeth bump a little, but when one hand trails down your slick skin to crook a thigh around his hip, you canât help the breathless sigh into his mouth at the way heâs already hard and feverish against your inner thigh.Â
âbob,â you cry out when he sucks at the spot behind your earâthe same time his hand on your thigh moves to cup your ass. his tongue swipes at your pulse point and your breath hitches on your words, âwhatâs got you all hot and bothered?â
âi- i donât know,â he breathes against your skin, wet lips searing more than the hot water raining down on you. he manoeuvres your bodies out of the spray when he feels how hot your skin is getting. âjust- just need toâŚâÂ
he trails off, mouth falling open on a low groan when your hips twitch, and the ruddy head of his cock brushes the junction of your thigh and pelvis.Â
bobâs forehead presses to the cool tile beside you when you do it again, smearing precum against your thigh.Â
âshit- need to feel you,â he pleads, hands finding purpose in kneading your tits.Â
âhow dâyou want me?â you murmur, turning your head so the words fall on his parted lips. he watches in a daze as your hand slips between your heated bodies, fingers curling around the length of him.Â
bob chokes on a breath, back caving in. heâs on the brink alreadyâon edge from hours of sparring and watching you dance around him in your tight workout gear and a determined glint in your eyes. he sees the same one now, and he knows he wonât last long enough to be inside you.Â
you squeeze, flicking a thumb over his slit to get his attention, and bob realises heâs been staring into space.Â
bob may as well babbleâincoherent as he tries to beg you to do literally anything to make the ache go awayâanything you want. â- just want you.â
he seems to swell in your grasp when you coo at him, twisting your fist as you stroke him steadily. âoh, baby,â you give him a kiss he struggles to reciprocate, âwanâ me to take care of you?â
all the bravado from earlier washes down the drain. heâs whimpering low in his throat, nodding feverishly. ây- yes, please, oh- fuck.â
âokay, pretty boy, iâll take care of you.â
he lets you push him, back to the wall. youâre slinking down his front, straight onto your knees. his cock rests under his belly, flushed all over and leaking like a faucet.Â
âyou did so well today,â you whisper and itâs almost drowned out by the water, âworked so hard.â
your lips press closed kisses up the side of him. when you take his tip into your warm mouth, bob has a flicker of genuine worry that heâll pass out. he whimpers as you work more of him into your mouth, withdrawing only to pucker up and dribble down a glob of spit over his tip.Â
âoh god,â he whines, head thrown back against the tile. wet hair clinging to his cheeks and neck, lashes clumped with water (or tears)âhe looks so good and you make up your mind to make him cum in record time.Â
he deserves it, you think. hadnât protested once while you and yelena had demonstrated the 101 ways to throw a grown man down. (zero complaints when your thighs had clamped around his head and swung him down, legs locked at his throat.)
you can barely fit half of him in your mouth, so your hands come up to stroke in time with your hungry tongue.Â
bob thinks he actually sees stars. there might be hearts floating above his head, because if he hadnât known he was in love with you before, he definitely knows now, when youâre smiling up at him through your lashes.Â
the warning heat in his belly ramps up to a boil when he feels your tongue swirling around his head.Â
âhoney, iâm- i think iâm gonna-â he manages to pant, chest heaving as his stomach tenses. a jolt of satisfaction courses through you, and youâre readying yourself for his end when thereâs the worldâs loudest knocking at your bathroom door.Â
a drawn out call of your name.Â
bob fights the desperate, pleading whine when your mouth pulls off of him at the last second. he stares down at youâdeer in the headlights, when the urgent knocking continues. his hand flies to your hair, not pressing, but urging.Â
his wide, panicked eyes find yoursâthe surprise is wearing off and now youâre just mildly annoyed.Â
yelenaâs on the other side, short blonde strands dripping onto the towel she clutches around her.Â
âcan i borrow some conditioner? i ran out!â she shouts to be heard over the water.Â
your hand never leaves bobâs dick, wrapped loosely as you bite your lip in contemplation. âwhy canât you use avaâs?âÂ
âyours smells better!â she reasons, fingernails tapping against the metal.Â
your face scrunches, figuring itâll be easier to just give her the damned thing than try to talk her out of coming in.Â
so you look up at bob from between his legs, press your fingers to your lips even as his head shakes, mouthing a pitiful âpleaseâ. presses himself further into the wall like itâll absorb him out of this utterly painful situation.Â
âfine, but iâm in the shower,â you call out, hands fumbling for the offending bottle. you both hear it when the doorknob turns and her footsteps enter the steamy room.Â
âdonât worry, i wonât look,â yelena mutters jokingly, approaching the shower curtain. to her credit, she does turn away before your hand pulls the curtain aside a little to pass her the conditioner. itâs good she didâ wouldâve caught a glimpse of dark hair and a muscled shoulder, otherwise.Â
the whole time, bob is shaking with tension and throbbing in your palm. you want to put him out of his misery, but you also want to drag it out a little. so you give him a slow, firm stroke and he slaps a hand over his mouth.Â
she thanks you for the conditioner, and you think thatâs that, but her steps stop right before the door.Â
âhey, bobâs been getting better, donât you think?â yelena hums thoughtfully, âheâs a fast learner.â
you agree, muffling a giggle because she doesnât know just how right she is. bobâs eyes narrow at your smirk, even worse when it spreads into a devilish grin.Â
your fingers curl tighter around his cock, speeding up. his head shakes vehemently, squirming under you as quietly as he can.Â
âheâs got good teachers,â you say, winking up at him when he gives up on trying to not thrust into your fist. he looks absolutely debauched like this, back arching off the wall as he chases your strokes.Â
yelena cackles, âno kidding. shouldâve seen his face when you did that widow move on him. i think he has a crush on you.â
you do laugh then, and you feel a little bad because bobâs breathing is getting faster and his hips more erratic. but you canât help it when you ask, âreally? what makes you say that?â
yelena hums like she knows something you donât, ironically, and you can almost see her outline through the curtain as she waves a hand, âah, weâll open that can of worms another time. thanks again!âÂ
when the door clicks shut again, bob counts five seconds before he releases the neediest moan heâs ever heard himself make. it makes his cheeks go red because heâs a little embarrassed.Â
but heâs peeking down at you and finds your eyes alight with arousal as you frantically tug at his swollen cock. âyou did so good, baby. stayed so quiet,â you sigh, thumb gliding over his slit with every pass.
bob cries out, biting his lip at the coil in his tummy returning, sneaking up while heâd been so caught up in being quietâbeing good, for you.Â
âcum for me, sweet boy,â you tell him, lips brushing his tip as your head lowers, âwanâ it in my mouth.â
thatâs it for him. his whimper pitches high, cracking in his throat. your mouth closes around him just as he twitches in your hand and then heâs spurting into your mouth in thick ropes that you swallow down with a soft moan. he canât help the way his hips jerk, nudging his cock further into your mouth. you welcome it, even as your jaw aches. Â
it takes over him, dragged out by your tongue and hollowed cheeks. he cums so muchâa few drops leak down your chin from the corner of your lips.
bob watches in awe as you scoop up what you missed with your fingers, suck them clean with your mouth. it feels like a gut punch to watch.Â
his hand flails, shutting the water off blindly. bob carries you out with ease, uncaring in the moment that heâs tracking water over your floor.Â
heâll apologise profusely later, but for now bob drops you onto the bed, and him onto his knees. your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders, and he proceeds to give you three more reasons for a real shower.Â
when the ac breaks (summer)
itâs ridiculous, really. the notion that a place like the new avengers tower, worth billions, could suffer from the mundane struggle of a busted air conditioning system.Â
smack in the middle of summer.Â
the entire building had been given the day off, save for the poor souls residing on the residential floors. the seven of you, condemned to braving this heatwave in a bulletproof glass box.Â
the one saving grace should have been the olympic sized pool on the training floors, but as luck would have it, itâs closedâscheduled to be cleaned sometime in the day.Â
so you resolve to lying splayed out on bobâs floor, against the cool floor with the only mini hand-held fan oscillating between yours and bobâs sweaty bodies.Â
youâd stripped down to your underwear, bob in his boxers. laying shoulder to shoulder, skin prickling from the heat.Â
âhow sure are we that weâre not in hell?âÂ
your head turns to the man next to you, reaching out to brush damp hair off his forehead. he laughs, and hopes you donât notice when he makes sure the fan stays pointed at you longer.Â
your eyes narrow when you do, nudging at his hand to turn it back to him, scolding him lightly because you donât want him getting heat stroke.Â
the heat makes everything feel hazy and your movements sluggish.Â
you groan into the thick air, shifting on the ground in search of a cool spot. eyeing him suspiciously as he stays completely stillâhow other than the light sheen on his body and the flush in his cheeks, there arenât any outward signs of suffering. âhow are you so calm right now?â
bob shrugs, a lax hand arcs through the air. âi run warm. âm pretty used to it.â
you give him a pout that his eyes catch on. he wonders if heâd taste the salt on your skin if he kissed you now.
âno fair,â you mumble, head thrown back. the move exposes the line of your throat, the way it glistens with sweat. he licks his lips, tries so hard to stop himself from following the bead of sweat that tracks down your cleavage.Â
bob distantly wonders how heâs still so affected, even after he had you writhing under him last night, just twelve hours ago. remembers how youâd dragged your nails down his back, raising welts between his shoulder blades as he had you pinned between him and the mattress.Â
to answer your question, he thinks there is a chance heâs in hell. only because youâre inches away, in nothing but a bra and panties, skin shimmering in the afternoon light and he canât do anything about it because itâs just so hot.
when you shift again, bob takes the risk and kisses you. makes sure to keep his torso hovering away from yours, only connected by your lips.Â
you reciprocate, craning your neck up into him. his mouth is warm, but itâs a nice contrast to the stifling heat surrounding you.Â
itâs muscle memory, reaching up to pull him closer. but your fingers slip against tacky skin, chests sticking together uncomfortably. bob retreats when he hears your low whine, squirming beneath him.Â
âno no no- i want to keep going,â you say breathlessly, voice catching when the heat stings at the nape of your neck, âbut âs too hot.â
bob can see when it gets overstimulating, your eyes watering with it. he scoots away, not too far but just enough to let the air flow easier around you. sets the mini fan next to you on the strongest setting and gathers your hair away from your neck.Â
âhey, youâre okay,â he murmurs soothingly, âi know, itâs hot. dâyou want me to get your water bottle?â
you shake your head, still pouting. you know youâre being a little melodramatic, but you can barely think straight, youâre bloated from drinking enough water to drown a dolphin and all you want is to cuddle with your boyfriend but you canât.Â
âwhat can i do, honey?â he hums, scooting closer to link your pinkies. heâs surprisingly level-headed about the whole thing, and it makes you wonder if this is really how he feels most of the time. then you feel bad for ever complaining about how cold he keeps his room. youâd much rather be huddling for warmth.
your voice is small, a little petulantâitâs embarrassing to be felled by a broken ac system. âcan you⌠can you kiss me again?â
his heart skips at your shy question. so used to the tables being flipped that he feels a little zip down his spine at the opportunity to take care of you this time.
bobâs mind becomes one-tracked, the need to make all your troubles disappear and have you happy and sated taking over his thoughts. he tells himself heâll make it all better (maybe even says it out loud.)
âlay back,â he tells you softly, nodding when you go down without a word. he dutifully adjusts the fan again, and then heâs appearing in your vision, blocking out the ceiling.Â
bob hovers over you, in a push-up position so none of his body heat reaches you. he looks so big like this, his newfound strength apparent with how he holds himself in place without struggle.Â
his hair curtains his face from this angle, and you reach up to tuck it behind his ear again. he has stars in his eyes when he peers down at you, still so pretty.Â
ââs this better?â he asks, voice low and gentle.
when you nod, youâre smiling and looking like yourself again. who couldâve known all you needed was bob on top of you.Â
he leans down, chest only just brushing yours this time as he kisses you deep. makes it a good one (he always does), but especially since youâd asked so sweetly.Â
you forget why you were upset in the first place when his tongue slips over yours. it gets a little heated, ironically, but even then bob holds himself above you, never letting his hot skin touch you.Â
you start to whimper for it, especially when you feel bob sporting a semi through his thin boxers, even from where he hovers. heâs about to bring himself to do something about itâears burning a little when he thinks about maybe asking if youâd want him to take you from behind this time, reasoning that youâll overheat less like that.
but then through the thick door, bobâs enhanced hearing picks up on heavy, thudding footsteps approaching. you donât need crazy senses to hear walker calling bobâs name from down the hall.Â
the pair of you freeze, your glassy eyes stuck on him. the breath catches in your chests when his voice grows louder. âbob! poolâs openâletâs go!â
he rolls off of you, barely sparing a second to adjust himself in his boxers before ushering you to the en-suite bathroom.Â
âstay here,â he says, even when both of you know thereâs nowhere else to go. âiâll be right back.âÂ
bob steals one more kiss before he ducks out of the bathroom, shutting the door right behind him just as walker barrels into the bedroom.Â
âwha- maybe knock next time?â bob runs a hand through his hair, standing on the opposite side of the room from the blonde super soldier whoâs already got his trunks on.Â
âwhatâs the point? not like youâre doing anything in here, anyway.â john reasons, shrugging with a hand on his hip.Â
âright⌠poolâs open, you said?â bob tries changing the subject.Â
âa few of us are heading down now. get changed, buddy, you look like youâre about to pass out.âÂ
bob purses his lips, and wonders briefly if youâre listening through the door. he hopes walker doesnât ask why heâs standing so weird.Â
âs-sure thing,â bob agrees, already turning around to look for the new pair of trunks heâd picked out with you the last time youâd gone out.
a high whistle rings out behind him, and the way it pierces the air makes bob freeze in his tracks.Â
âdamn, bob. you get in a fight?âÂ
bobâs confused, grasping for any idea of what john could mean when it hits him, and he whirls around before john gets more fuel for the teasing that awaits him now.Â
his face is burning up, trunks clutched in his hands. he blinks rapidly, floundering as john watches with a smug grin.Â
âgood for you, man,â john says simply, and bob just knows heâs holding back for later, when he has everyoneâs attention.Â
âo- on second thought, i donât- i donât feel too good,â bob struggles, eyes frantically searching for a shirt, but the last time he had one on was hours ago. he canât remember where heâd tossed it, because his brain turned to mush the second yours came off.
âoh, come on, thereâs nothing to be ashamed of!â john waves, cracking a little as a laugh bubbles in his chest. âwear it with pride! means you did a good job.â
bob wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. heâs sure heâs in hell, when his door slides open and both yelena and ava step in, clad in swimsuits and towels slung over their shoulders.Â
âguys, what is the holdup?â yelena demands, gesturing exasperatedly with her hands.Â
âitâs like you want to get heat stroke.â ava snips, glaring at john, whose face is crimson from how hard heâs holding himself back.Â
âbobâs been busy.â
the girls look at him questioningly, irate at being made to wait even longer as john waits for them to figure it out.Â
bob squeaks, shaking his head when john declares to the room, âbob fucks!â
he is in hell, because the room falls silent as ava and yelena stare between the two men. bob scoots a little too far to the left and they catch a glimpse of his scratched up back in the full-body mirror behind him.Â
their gasps fill the room, and yelena, at least, tries to cover it with a hand over her mouth.Â
âgo on, bob!â ava nods approvingly, breaking into a cackle as yelena nods her agreement, speechless.Â
it makes bob cringe, mind darting through all the ideas of how to squirm out of this situation, because theyâre all probably picturing him in their minds right now and it makes him want to curl up in a hall.Â
âoh my god, who do you think it is?â ava gasps, slapping excitedly at john. he swats her hands away, but heâs wearing a shit-eating grin when he says your name, drawling, âobviously.â
avaâs jaw drops just as yelena elbows him hard enough to make walker wince.Â
bob swallows back the protest in his throat, because he doesnât trust his ability to lie right now. decides it might be easier to just let them think what they want.Â
âwhoever it is-â yelena cuts off ava and johnâs gabbing, â-is a very lucky person. clearly!â
they leave bob to change in peace, snickering the whole way to the elevator. when the bathroom door opens, you find his face in his hands, sighing in resignation.Â
when his hands fall, there you are, trying to muffle a laugh, half-guilty but very amused.Â
âiâm sorry, baby,â you coo, running your hands up his arms to his shoulders, âshouldâa told you to put on a shirt first.â
you enjoy yourself plenty, watching him stammer through the groupâs interrogation by the pool while you act none-the-wiser. even sprinkling in a question or two.Â
itâs not as funny later that night, when the ac is fixed and bob has you on your back before it can even kick in properly.Â
itâs decidedly unfunny when you have to watch tutorials the next morning on how to cover up the purple-red splotches mapped down your throat, save for the one at your collarâbob asks you to leave that one bare.Â
in the middle of it (autumn)
the team is onto you.Â
itâs hard to miss the pointed looks exchanged over dinner when you and bob chat intently, in your own world, totally unbothered by their squabbling.Â
or when the two of you coincidentally walk into the kitchen for breakfast together. sure, you bumped into him on your way down.Â
itâs been almost a year with bob, and youâre still buried under the weight of pure love when he comes to you first about whatâs bothering him, or when he wants you to cut his hair, or when he doesnât even have to ask for your order when he gets takeout for just the two of you.Â
sneaking around was fun at first, a harmless secret that protected the peace that only existed when you were together. every stolen kiss and lingering brush under the table sent shocks through your system.Â
the longer it goes, the harder it is to leave him in the morning, slipping into your own room quietly on the off chance that someone might catch you tiptoeing out of his.Â
when bob shuffles into the kitchen, eyes bleary and hair mussed from sleep, and you have to hold yourself back from peppering kisses all over his sleepy faceâit makes you wonder why exactly youâre keeping it a secret. itâs not like the team would really give a shit, hell, they probably know.Â
so you stop being careful. the mask starts to slip, and bob finds that he quite likes getting to hold your hand outside the confines of your rooms.Â
the day it finally happens is one of those days, where you wake up in his arms, clutched to his chest like his personal teddy bear. his lips part on a soft snore, face smushed into the pillow.
youâre a little sweaty, trapped under the covers with the heat radiating off of your dead-asleep boyfriend, but you canât bring yourself to peel away from him.Â
itâs still early. the tower is silentâon the cusp of consciousness.Â
as you try to recall what exactly woke you up, bob shifts behind you andâoh. bob moves again, still asleep, and this time thereâs no mistaking what nudges at the back of your thigh.Â
a hitch of a breath. you wait a beat, in time with your pulse, until you decide to push back experimentally. heâs still asleep, and youâre debating whether itâs worth waking him early.Â
heâs thick in his pyjamas, insistent as he grinds into you again, notching between your ass cheeks. this time he lets out a low moan, the arm banded around your middle clamping down.
youâre entirely locked against him now, unable to move as bobâs hips continue their lazy rocking. you want so bad to let him sleep, but itâs getting uncomfortably hot and sticky between your legs.Â
you think you could slip a hand down and take care of yourself quietly, but then your entire body jolts up the bed on one hard thrust. the mewl youâve been biting back finally slips out.Â
thatâs what wakes him, in the end. when your hand flies to his forearm against your stomach, baby blue eyes flutter open and blink slowly in confusion.Â
it hits him all at onceâcock throbbing in his pants and your overheating body squirming in front of him and the little sounds escaping your mouth. his name.Â
bob makes a puzzled sound, halfway to a moan when the fog clears. his arms loosen enough for you to turn around, facing him as his cock now pokes at your belly.Â
âiâm sorry i woke youâ you whisper through the clench in your core. bob shakes his head, still sleepy, dragging you into a slow kiss, the first of the day.Â
âare you-â his hand slips between your bodies, resting at your navel until you nod. âfuck, youâre so wet already.â
he runs his long fingers through your folds, spreading the arousal he finds waiting for him there. brushes against your clit, and then youâre whining, tugging at his shoulders.Â
âbob bob bob, please, i need you inside,â is all it takes for him to nod against your lips, wriggling out of his pants and lifting your thigh over his.Â
he guides himself to your entrance, sliding in slow, like always. lets you adjust as he groans low at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him.Â
when you tell him to move, he wastes no time in drawing his hips back, pushing in steadily. each time he does, a breathless moan is punched out of you, gripping him like a vice and sucking him back in.Â
âs- shit, honey, youâre squeezing me so tight,â he stutters, a soft laugh turning breathless when you seem to clench down on purpose. âsâthat feel good, honey? t- talk to me.â
he needs it. with this angle, he reaches so much deeper, his coarse hairs rubbing at your clit with each push forwards. it sets your insides alight, but thereâs nowhere to run in this position. his fingers clamp down on your hip, dragging you along his cock.Â
âf- fuck, you feel so good,â you cry, burying your face in his firm chest, âso- so deep like this. can feel all of you.â
your praise goes straight to his cock, twitching inside you on a whimper. he moves with purpose, aims for that spot he knows is thereâthe one that makes you cry his name.Â
he knows when heâs found it, because youâre keening, high and sharp into the room. the stillness of the morning is shattered, taken over by the steady slapping of skin on skin, the squelching where bob pushes his thick cock into your leaking hole.Â
âyouâre so- so fucking wet, sweetheart. âs all for me?â he pants, voice raspy and thick with sleep. it scratches at your brain just right, makes you arch into his touch.Â
his tip batters at that spongey spot just right, and he thinks he might need to cover your mouth or something. while heâs sure the team wouldnât be opposed to your relationship, heâs not too sure about how theyâd feel waking up to your repeated chants of his name. Â
he shushes you with this mouth on yours, swallowing down all your wanton moans. âyouâre gonna wake everyone,â he says against your lips, a little teasing. just this side of cocky, now that he has you falling apart on his dick first thing in the morning.Â
your head shakes vehemently as you cling to him. âdonât care,â you say, breath catching when he rolls your clit in slow circles. âwant âem to know-â your hips buck with a yelp when his touch grows firm, â-want them to hear how good you fuck me.âÂ
bobâs eyes roll back into his head, a shiver running down his spine. âcum for me then, baby, câmon.â
his thrusts grow harsh, and you know heâs almost there when he bites down on your shoulder to stop the pathetic moan at how your wet walls choke him.Â
he keeps working at your clit, pumping in and out of you in a way thatâs fucking devastating. the heat simmering in your belly bubbles over, and youâre creaming all over his cock with a wrecked whine, bucking your hips to meet his.Â
âloveyouloveyouloveyou,â he hears you mumble as you wade through your high, and it does him in to hear that word. itâs not the first time, but it always feels like it.Â
his fingers squeeze your hips so hard theyâll bruise for sure, marring your skin shades of blue and purple that heâll kiss better later.
when he cums, itâs with a drawn out moan, barely muffled by your skin as he presses his face to your neck. you can feel him pulsing as he paints your insides, squeezing just to draw out his pleasure. you donât want the feeling of him filling you up to stop.Â
âi love you, oh, god- love you, baby.â
too bad the moment is fucking stomped on all over, becoming bobâs most ruined orgasm when his bedroom door flies open, revealing a blond super soldier, suited up at 7 in the morning.Â
âhey, have you seen-âÂ
it takes a second to register but when it does, bob is tugging the covers up and shielding your body with his.Â
âholy shit.â john freezes in his tracks like heâs been slapped, piecing together the flash of your mortified face and the curve of bobâs bare ass.Â
âget the fuck out!â you shout from under bob, whose mind has gone completely blank. not only because heâs been walked in on, butt naked by the most annoying of all super soldiers, but also because he can feel where his cum is leaking out of you onto the sheets. he pulls the covers tighter around your bodies, blushing bright red.Â
âi knew it. i fucking knew it!âÂ
âgold star to you, walker! now can you leave, please? the briefing doesnât start for another hour, you psycho.â
âgod forbid we get breakfast before a day-long mission! itâs only the most important meal of the day!â
your eyes roll hard, staring up at bob, both of you doused in annoyance at how john is still in the room when bob is still in you.Â
âbob, iâd offer you to join but i assume youâve already eaten-â heâs cut off by your indignant yell, easily dodging the metal water bottle hurled at him.Â
âalright, alright,â john huffs, turning heel with a shudder.Â
when the door slides shut, bob meets your eyes with a sigh. you look up at him, helpless to stop the unhinged giggle when you process what just happened.Â
âcatâs out of the bag?â you offer, whimpering a little when bob pulls out slowly. he shakes his head, huffing a laugh with his head in the crook of your neck.Â
bob cleans you up diligently, and so, so softly. within the hour, heâs zipping up your tactical suit and waiting at the door so he can walk you out to the elevator.Â
âare you gonna be okay fending for yourself while iâm gone? theyâre going to have questions,â you tease, raising on your tiptoes loop your arms around bobâs neck.Â
he smile is small but itâs real and stays even after you kiss him goodbye.Â
âiâll manage. as long as you promise to push walker into the line of fire a little.â
"You're alright, you're alright..." Enjin coos sweet and low, an unapologetic grin on his face as he keeps the pad of his thumb drawing slow circles right against your slippery clit. His other hand holds your hip steady- keeping you in place as he continues to lazily grind his hips into you.
You're gasping for air and grabbing at his wrist with trembling fingers. Your eyes are bleary and panicked, thighs trembling and twitching with every sharp and agonizing jolt of pleasure lighting through each nerve. "Enjin, h-hold on, I-I just-" A pathetic sound leaves you right as Enjin gives you a sudden cant of his hips that has your body bouncing under him. "Oops. Sorry, what were you saying, baby?" Your bottom lip wobbles. You know that tone. You've already cum twice and Enjin hasn't even properly fucked you yet. His fat tip presses and swirls against that part of you that has your toes curling and Enjin's ego skyrocketing.
You shake and sink your nails into Enjin's skin. He laughs. "Hey, hey, don't make that face at me. You know how to use your words," Enjin swipes his tongue across his bottom lip as he drags his hips back nice and slow, "so use them." With emphasis, he thrusts forward with an audible smack of tacky skin against tacky skin. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your spine arches off the slightly damp sheet you're laid out on.
Enjin hums deep in his chest, lashes fluttering closed for just a moment to savor your heat clinging around him like it was ready to snap his dick off at any given moment (and he definitely wouldn't mind).
"C'mon baby, talk t'me. Where's all that attitude gone?" He murmurs, giving another filling thrust that has him groaning and you crying. Your mind's gone entirely empty- tongue heavy in your mouth as drool pools at the flat. You're entirely scrambled. Enjin is well aware. Despite that, he has no plans on letting up on you. You can take that and more, after all.
"How about this?" Enjin begins as two big and rough hands firmly take your thighs and spread you open obscenely wide. The cool metal of his rings soothes the heat of your skin. His voice is all you can process properly- it has a way of grounding you yet keeping you on this high you could never dream to replicate. "I'll fuck you just the way you like," Enjin smirks, "and you tell me aaaaall about how much you hate me and my stupid dick, yeah?"
âsummary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.
âwarnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.
âword count: 1,3k
âa/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3
The best thing about living alone, youâve come to realize, is the privacy. Youâre free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.
No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.
The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. Thereâs barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt thatâs more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someoneâs cool hands sliding down your body.
Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.
You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. Youâd stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.
Sleep doesnât completely evade you but youâre not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.
Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. Theyâve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. Theyâre not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.
You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.
Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like â like theyâre what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.
The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesnât even sound like you, desperate and needy. Theyâre back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if theyâre trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. Itâs a nice dream, you donât need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that itâs a dream. Because then youâll wake up, alone again.
Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you donât want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If itâs your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesnât push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.
âPlease,â you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.
The strangerâs cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands â under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until thereâs an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.
It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat butâ wait, itâs your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.
The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and â fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner â
Thereâs no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But thereâs a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someoneâs shoulder against your Achillesâ tendon. Thereâs a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someoneâs labored breathing.
The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns â your whole body burns. You canât look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever â whatever â it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you canât see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.
You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. Itâs so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.
Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.
A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
izzy806
dailybridgerton
