Yeah, that is America's Ass™. @mentalfictionleftmyassbehind - Tumblr Blog

seasons • b.r.

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader

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)

it’s movie night and everyone is late.

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.

you’d looked to bob then, grinning conspiratorially as you crawled down the length of the curved couch, right into his side.

it’s innocent enough, at first. muffled by his shirt in your face when you tell him that it’s only because you’re cold, and he warms you up better than anything else could.

he gives you a look—like he knows what you’re up to but can’t find a good enough reason to refuse himself the feel of you. makes something warm in his chest when he thinks about how you’re always looking for any reason to touch him, that you don’t shy away.

he likes it, because while your relationship isn’t exactly new, he still worries—doesn’t know if he could bring himself to initiate it even if he wanted to (he really, really does).

but when you come to him, he welcomes it. revels in it, actually.

his arms lift, wrapping around your frame. immediately, you’re enveloped by the smell of his laundry detergent and the 2-in-1 shampoo he’s been trying to use up before opening the real shampoo and conditioner you’d bought him.

his chin rests atop your head, breathing steady while your fingers aimlessly trace lines down his sleeve.

“y’know…” you say, trailing off in the way he knows means you’ve got something to say that likely will get him in trouble. he holds his breath.

“we’re the only ones here,” you continue, pulling your head back to look into his eyes, hoping those pretty blue eyes will take the hint.

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.

“yeah,” he breathes, “i- i can see that.”

the look you give him is expectant, and he blinks owlishly in return.

he watches your nose scrunch when you try to decipher whether he’s being clueless on purpose or if he genuinely can’t fathom what you’d want to do with him in an empty room on a couch much too big for two.

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, “i want to kiss you, bob. make out a little.”

his lips fall into a perfect little ‘o’ when he exhales the syllable. you grin up at him when his ears turn red.

“i- i mean,” 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, “okay.”

he only catches a glimpse of the giddy look on your face before you’re pulling him down to you with a gentle hand on his cheek.

he kisses a little unsure, a little messy—but god, does it send pleasant shivers down your spine when he’s the one to part your lips and glide his tongue against yours.

you sigh contentedly into his waiting mouth when his grip on you tightens, and his hands start to roam—like the more he kisses you the less restrained he remembers to be.

“w- we… we should-” he sighs against the side of your face when your head tilts to press your lips to his cheek, chest rising and falling hard.

“we should probably move,” 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.

he’s probably right. the chances of you getting walked in on are rising by the minute—you can only imagine the shit you’ll get if the team finds you and bob, equally flustered and dazed.

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 it’s worth it.

bob licks his kiss-swollen lips, and the choice is made for you.

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 he’s starting to stiffen in his plaid christmas bottoms.

bob’s 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.

you know you shouldn’t tease. you’ve 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.

but he’s just so pretty, and when he makes sounds like that just from your leg, you can’t stop yourself from doing it again, and again, until he’s whimpering and reaching a hand down to hold back your leg. a little pointless, considering how his hips buck in search of more.

“they- they’re going to come back,” bob chokes, lashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. white-knuckled fingers twitch against your thigh, “someone could see.”

and you’re about to argue otherwise, that they’re not about to just walk in the next second, but it’s like he’s summoned them with magic, or spoken it into existence.

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.

bob yelps in alarm, his hold on you tightening in reflex as the ‘freeze’ 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.

when the team walks in, you’re 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 distraction—nobody asks why his cheeks are so red, or why he’s more jittery than usual.

by the time the lights are turned off and everyone is placated with snacks and a christmas movie, bob thinks he’s off the hook. but then you’re squeezing into the only seat left with an innocent smile—between him and bucky.

the super soldier side-eyes you when the movie ends and bob still has that damned pillow clutched over his lap.

in the shower (spring)

the water beating down against slick tiles does a halfway job of muffling the sounds coming from your bathroom.

it hadn’t been your intention, when you’d agreed to help yelena train bob, to end up caged under him in the shower.

you’d 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 blonde’s door closing.

there’s something about that post-exercise high, the rush of endorphins in bob’s 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.

it reminds you of when the sentry peeks through. makes you swallow, peering curiously at his eyes but no—only crystalline blue already staring back.

his hair stuck to his forehead and a light sheen of sweat around along his throat—evidence of how much he’d pushed himself. thanks to the serum, it takes a lot for bob to work up a sweat these days.

“’m gonna shower,” you say simply, and that was that.

he’d 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.

he descends on you, big hands engulfing your cheeks, kissing you hard. it’s hungry, and your teeth bump a little, but when one hand trails down your slick skin to crook a thigh around his hip, you can’t help the breathless sigh into his mouth at the way he’s already hard and feverish against your inner thigh.

“bob,” you cry out when he sucks at the spot behind your ear—the 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, “what’s got you all hot and bothered?”

“i- i don’t know,” 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. “just- just need to…”

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.

bob’s forehead presses to the cool tile beside you when you do it again, smearing precum against your thigh.

“shit- need to feel you,” he pleads, hands finding purpose in kneading your tits.

“how d’you want me?” 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.

bob chokes on a breath, back caving in. he’s on the brink already—on 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 won’t last long enough to be inside you.

you squeeze, flicking a thumb over his slit to get his attention, and bob realises he’s been staring into space.

bob may as well babble—incoherent as he tries to beg you to do literally anything to make the ache go away—anything you want. “- just want you.”

he seems to swell in your grasp when you coo at him, twisting your fist as you stroke him steadily. “oh, baby,” you give him a kiss he struggles to reciprocate, “wan’ me to take care of you?”

all the bravado from earlier washes down the drain. he’s whimpering low in his throat, nodding feverishly. “y- yes, please, oh- fuck.”

“okay, pretty boy, i’ll take care of you.”

he lets you push him, back to the wall. you’re slinking down his front, straight onto your knees. his cock rests under his belly, flushed all over and leaking like a faucet.

“you did so well today,” you whisper and it’s almost drowned out by the water, “worked so hard.”

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 he’ll 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.

“oh god,” he whines, head thrown back against the tile. wet hair clinging to his cheeks and neck, lashes clumped with water (or tears)—he looks so good and you make up your mind to make him cum in record time.

he deserves it, you think. hadn’t 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.

bob thinks he actually sees stars. there might be hearts floating above his head, because if he hadn’t known he was in love with you before, he definitely knows now, when you’re smiling up at him through your lashes.

the warning heat in his belly ramps up to a boil when he feels your tongue swirling around his head.

“honey, i’m- i think i’m gonna-” he manages to pant, chest heaving as his stomach tenses. a jolt of satisfaction courses through you, and you’re readying yourself for his end when there’s the world’s loudest knocking at your bathroom door.

a drawn out call of your name.

bob fights the desperate, pleading whine when your mouth pulls off of him at the last second. he stares down at you—deer in the headlights, when the urgent knocking continues. his hand flies to your hair, not pressing, but urging.

his wide, panicked eyes find yours—the surprise is wearing off and now you’re just mildly annoyed.

yelena’s on the other side, short blonde strands dripping onto the towel she clutches around her.

“can i borrow some conditioner? i ran out!” she shouts to be heard over the water.

your hand never leaves bob’s dick, wrapped loosely as you bite your lip in contemplation. “why can’t you use ava’s?”

“yours smells better!” she reasons, fingernails tapping against the metal.

your face scrunches, figuring it’ll be easier to just give her the damned thing than try to talk her out of coming in.

so you look up at bob from between his legs, press your fingers to your lips even as his head shakes, mouthing a pitiful “please”. presses himself further into the wall like it’ll absorb him out of this utterly painful situation.

“fine, but i’m in the shower,” you call out, hands fumbling for the offending bottle. you both hear it when the doorknob turns and her footsteps enter the steamy room.

“don’t worry, i won’t look,” 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. it’s good she did— would’ve caught a glimpse of dark hair and a muscled shoulder, otherwise.

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.

she thanks you for the conditioner, and you think that’s that, but her steps stop right before the door.

“hey, bob’s been getting better, don’t you think?” yelena hums thoughtfully, “he’s a fast learner.”

you agree, muffling a giggle because she doesn’t know just how right she is. bob’s eyes narrow at your smirk, even worse when it spreads into a devilish grin.

your fingers curl tighter around his cock, speeding up. his head shakes vehemently, squirming under you as quietly as he can.

“he’s got good teachers,” 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.

yelena cackles, “no kidding. should’ve seen his face when you did that widow move on him. i think he has a crush on you.”

you do laugh then, and you feel a little bad because bob’s breathing is getting faster and his hips more erratic. but you can’t help it when you ask, “really? what makes you say that?”

yelena hums like she knows something you don’t, ironically, and you can almost see her outline through the curtain as she waves a hand, “ah, we’ll open that can of worms another time. thanks again!”

when the door clicks shut again, bob counts five seconds before he releases the neediest moan he’s ever heard himself make. it makes his cheeks go red because he’s a little embarrassed.

but he’s peeking down at you and finds your eyes alight with arousal as you frantically tug at his swollen cock. “you did so good, baby. stayed so quiet,” 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 he’d been so caught up in being quiet—being good, for you.

“cum for me, sweet boy,” you tell him, lips brushing his tip as your head lowers, “wan’ it in my mouth.”

that’s 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 he’s spurting into your mouth in thick ropes that you swallow down with a soft moan. he can’t help the way his hips jerk, nudging his cock further into your mouth. you welcome it, even as your jaw aches.

it takes over him, dragged out by your tongue and hollowed cheeks. he cums so much—a 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.

his hand flails, shutting the water off blindly. bob carries you out with ease, uncaring in the moment that he’s tracking water over your floor.

he’ll 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.

when the ac breaks (summer)

it’s 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.

smack in the middle of summer.

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.

the one saving grace should have been the olympic sized pool on the training floors, but as luck would have it, it’s closed—scheduled to be cleaned sometime in the day.

so you resolve to lying splayed out on bob’s floor, against the cool floor with the only mini hand-held fan oscillating between yours and bob’s sweaty bodies.

you’d stripped down to your underwear, bob in his boxers. laying shoulder to shoulder, skin prickling from the heat.

“how sure are we that we’re not in hell?”

your head turns to the man next to you, reaching out to brush damp hair off his forehead. he laughs, and hopes you don’t notice when he makes sure the fan stays pointed at you longer.

your eyes narrow when you do, nudging at his hand to turn it back to him, scolding him lightly because you don’t want him getting heat stroke.

the heat makes everything feel hazy and your movements sluggish.

you groan into the thick air, shifting on the ground in search of a cool spot. eyeing him suspiciously as he stays completely still—how other than the light sheen on his body and the flush in his cheeks, there aren’t any outward signs of suffering. “how are you so calm right now?”

bob shrugs, a lax hand arcs through the air. “i run warm. ‘m pretty used to it.”

you give him a pout that his eyes catch on. he wonders if he’d taste the salt on your skin if he kissed you now.

“no fair,” 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.

bob distantly wonders how he’s still so affected, even after he had you writhing under him last night, just twelve hours ago. remembers how you’d dragged your nails down his back, raising welts between his shoulder blades as he had you pinned between him and the mattress.

to answer your question, he thinks there is a chance he’s in hell. only because you’re inches away, in nothing but a bra and panties, skin shimmering in the afternoon light and he can’t do anything about it because it’s 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.

you reciprocate, craning your neck up into him. his mouth is warm, but it’s a nice contrast to the stifling heat surrounding you.

it’s 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.

“no no no- i want to keep going,” you say breathlessly, voice catching when the heat stings at the nape of your neck, “but ‘s too hot.”

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.

“hey, you’re okay,” he murmurs soothingly, “i know, it’s hot. d’you want me to get your water bottle?”

you shake your head, still pouting. you know you’re being a little melodramatic, but you can barely think straight, you’re bloated from drinking enough water to drown a dolphin and all you want is to cuddle with your boyfriend but you can’t.

“what can i do, honey?” he hums, scooting closer to link your pinkies. he’s 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. you’d much rather be huddling for warmth.

your voice is small, a little petulant—it’s embarrassing to be felled by a broken ac system. “can you… can you kiss me again?”

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.

bob’s 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 he’ll make it all better (maybe even says it out loud.)

“lay back,” he tells you softly, nodding when you go down without a word. he dutifully adjusts the fan again, and then he’s appearing in your vision, blocking out the ceiling.

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.

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.

“’s this better?” he asks, voice low and gentle.

when you nod, you’re smiling and looking like yourself again. who could’ve known all you needed was bob on top of you.

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 you’d asked so sweetly.

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.

you start to whimper for it, especially when you feel bob sporting a semi through his thin boxers, even from where he hovers. he’s about to bring himself to do something about it—ears burning a little when he thinks about maybe asking if you’d want him to take you from behind this time, reasoning that you’ll overheat less like that.

but then through the thick door, bob’s enhanced hearing picks up on heavy, thudding footsteps approaching. you don’t need crazy senses to hear walker calling bob’s name from down the hall.

the pair of you freeze, your glassy eyes stuck on him. the breath catches in your chests when his voice grows louder. “bob! pool’s open—let’s go!”

he rolls off of you, barely sparing a second to adjust himself in his boxers before ushering you to the en-suite bathroom.

“stay here,” he says, even when both of you know there’s nowhere else to go. “i’ll be right back.”

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.

“wha- maybe knock next time?” bob runs a hand through his hair, standing on the opposite side of the room from the blonde super soldier who’s already got his trunks on.

“what’s the point? not like you’re doing anything in here, anyway.” john reasons, shrugging with a hand on his hip.

“right… pool’s open, you said?” bob tries changing the subject.

“a few of us are heading down now. get changed, buddy, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

bob purses his lips, and wonders briefly if you’re listening through the door. he hopes walker doesn’t ask why he’s standing so weird.

“s-sure thing,” bob agrees, already turning around to look for the new pair of trunks he’d picked out with you the last time you’d gone out.

a high whistle rings out behind him, and the way it pierces the air makes bob freeze in his tracks.

“damn, bob. you get in a fight?”

bob’s 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.

his face is burning up, trunks clutched in his hands. he blinks rapidly, floundering as john watches with a smug grin.

“good for you, man,” john says simply, and bob just knows he’s holding back for later, when he has everyone’s attention.

“o- on second thought, i don’t- i don’t feel too good,” bob struggles, eyes frantically searching for a shirt, but the last time he had one on was hours ago. he can’t remember where he’d tossed it, because his brain turned to mush the second yours came off.

“oh, come on, there’s nothing to be ashamed of!” john waves, cracking a little as a laugh bubbles in his chest. “wear it with pride! means you did a good job.”

bob wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he’s sure he’s in hell, when his door slides open and both yelena and ava step in, clad in swimsuits and towels slung over their shoulders.

“guys, what is the holdup?” yelena demands, gesturing exasperatedly with her hands.

“it’s like you want to get heat stroke.” ava snips, glaring at john, whose face is crimson from how hard he’s holding himself back.

“bob’s been busy.”

the girls look at him questioningly, irate at being made to wait even longer as john waits for them to figure it out.

bob squeaks, shaking his head when john declares to the room, “bob fucks!”

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.

their gasps fill the room, and yelena, at least, tries to cover it with a hand over her mouth.

“go on, bob!” ava nods approvingly, breaking into a cackle as yelena nods her agreement, speechless.

it makes bob cringe, mind darting through all the ideas of how to squirm out of this situation, because they’re all probably picturing him in their minds right now and it makes him want to curl up in a hall.

“oh my god, who do you think it is?” ava gasps, slapping excitedly at john. he swats her hands away, but he’s wearing a shit-eating grin when he says your name, drawling, “obviously.”

ava’s jaw drops just as yelena elbows him hard enough to make walker wince.

bob swallows back the protest in his throat, because he doesn’t trust his ability to lie right now. decides it might be easier to just let them think what they want.

“whoever it is-“ yelena cuts off ava and john’s gabbing, “-is a very lucky person. clearly!”

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.

when his hands fall, there you are, trying to muffle a laugh, half-guilty but very amused.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you coo, running your hands up his arms to his shoulders, “should’a told you to put on a shirt first.”

you enjoy yourself plenty, watching him stammer through the group’s interrogation by the pool while you act none-the-wiser. even sprinkling in a question or two.

it’s 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.

it’s 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 collar—bob asks you to leave that one bare.

in the middle of it (autumn)

the team is onto you.

it’s hard to miss the pointed looks exchanged over dinner when you and bob chat intently, in your own world, totally unbothered by their squabbling.

or when the two of you coincidentally walk into the kitchen for breakfast together. sure, you bumped into him on your way down.

it’s been almost a year with bob, and you’re still buried under the weight of pure love when he comes to you first about what’s bothering him, or when he wants you to cut his hair, or when he doesn’t even have to ask for your order when he gets takeout for just the two of you.

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.

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.

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 face—it makes you wonder why exactly you’re keeping it a secret. it’s not like the team would really give a shit, hell, they probably know.

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.

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.

you’re a little sweaty, trapped under the covers with the heat radiating off of your dead-asleep boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to peel away from him.

it’s still early. the tower is silent—on the cusp of consciousness.

as you try to recall what exactly woke you up, bob shifts behind you and—oh. bob moves again, still asleep, and this time there’s no mistaking what nudges at the back of your thigh.

a hitch of a breath. you wait a beat, in time with your pulse, until you decide to push back experimentally. he’s still asleep, and you’re debating whether it’s worth waking him early.

he’s 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.

you’re entirely locked against him now, unable to move as bob’s hips continue their lazy rocking. you want so bad to let him sleep, but it’s getting uncomfortably hot and sticky between your legs.

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 you’ve been biting back finally slips out.

that’s 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.

it hits him all at once—cock throbbing in his pants and your overheating body squirming in front of him and the little sounds escaping your mouth. his name.

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.

“i’m sorry i woke you” 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.

“are you-” his hand slips between your bodies, resting at your navel until you nod. “fuck, you’re so wet already.”

he runs his long fingers through your folds, spreading the arousal he finds waiting for him there. brushes against your clit, and then you’re whining, tugging at his shoulders.

“bob bob bob, please, i need you inside,” is all it takes for him to nod against your lips, wriggling out of his pants and lifting your thigh over his.

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.

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.

“s- shit, honey, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he stutters, a soft laugh turning breathless when you seem to clench down on purpose. “s’that feel good, honey? t- talk to me.”

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 there’s nowhere to run in this position. his fingers clamp down on your hip, dragging you along his cock.

“f- fuck, you feel so good,” you cry, burying your face in his firm chest, “so- so deep like this. can feel all of you.”

your praise goes straight to his cock, twitching inside you on a whimper. he moves with purpose, aims for that spot he knows is there—the one that makes you cry his name.

he knows when he’s found it, because you’re 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.

“you’re so- so fucking wet, sweetheart. ‘s all for me?” he pants, voice raspy and thick with sleep. it scratches at your brain just right, makes you arch into his touch.

his tip batters at that spongey spot just right, and he thinks he might need to cover your mouth or something. while he’s sure the team wouldn’t be opposed to your relationship, he’s not too sure about how they’d feel waking up to your repeated chants of his name.

he shushes you with this mouth on yours, swallowing down all your wanton moans. “you’re gonna wake everyone,” 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.

your head shakes vehemently as you cling to him. “don’t care,” you say, breath catching when he rolls your clit in slow circles. “want ‘em to know-” your hips buck with a yelp when his touch grows firm, “-want them to hear how good you fuck me.”

bob’s eyes roll back into his head, a shiver running down his spine. “cum for me then, baby, c’mon.”

his thrusts grow harsh, and you know he’s almost there when he bites down on your shoulder to stop the pathetic moan at how your wet walls choke him.

he keeps working at your clit, pumping in and out of you in a way that’s fucking devastating. the heat simmering in your belly bubbles over, and you’re creaming all over his cock with a wrecked whine, bucking your hips to meet his.

“loveyouloveyouloveyou,” he hears you mumble as you wade through your high, and it does him in to hear that word. it’s not the first time, but it always feels like it.

his fingers squeeze your hips so hard they’ll bruise for sure, marring your skin shades of blue and purple that he’ll kiss better later.

when he cums, it’s 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 don’t want the feeling of him filling you up to stop.

“i love you, oh, god- love you, baby.”

too bad the moment is fucking stomped on all over, becoming bob’s most ruined orgasm when his bedroom door flies open, revealing a blond super soldier, suited up at 7 in the morning.

“hey, have you seen-”

it takes a second to register but when it does, bob is tugging the covers up and shielding your body with his.

“holy shit.” john freezes in his tracks like he’s been slapped, piecing together the flash of your mortified face and the curve of bob’s bare ass.

“get the fuck out!” you shout from under bob, whose mind has gone completely blank. not only because he’s 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.

“i knew it. i fucking knew it!”

“gold star to you, walker! now can you leave, please? the briefing doesn’t start for another hour, you psycho.”

“god forbid we get breakfast before a day-long mission! it’s only the most important meal of the day!”

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.

“bob, i’d offer you to join but i assume you’ve already eaten-” he’s cut off by your indignant yell, easily dodging the metal water bottle hurled at him.

“alright, alright,” john huffs, turning heel with a shudder.

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.

“cat’s out of the bag?” 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.

bob cleans you up diligently, and so, so softly. within the hour, he’s zipping up your tactical suit and waiting at the door so he can walk you out to the elevator.

“are you gonna be okay fending for yourself while i’m gone? they’re going to have questions,” you tease, raising on your tiptoes loop your arms around bob’s neck.

he smile is small but it’s real and stays even after you kiss him goodbye.

“i’ll manage. as long as you promise to push walker into the line of fire a little.”