dreaming of you
bob reynolds x female reader
summary: bob has a bad habit of letting his subconscious thoughts flood his sleep with dirty visions of you, but what happens when he accidentally shows you one of them while practicing his telepathic abilities.
content: 18+, cursing, smut, descriptions of sexual activites, wet dreams let’s gooo, we got some fluff in this one, pining lots of pining, kinda really corny at times sorry!, takes place after the events of the movie, angst if you squint, sad boy bob feeling a bit of self-pity, comforting!reader, mentions of the other thunderbolt characters bc i think its cutie that they’re like a big family
word count: 4.7k
author’s note: i tried to make the readers job as vague as possible bc i don’t know shit about shit and i don’t need y’all coming for me. sorry for ending this the way i did, but i thought i’d try something new and write a fic that isn’t straight up boot-nasty style fucking… also it would’ve been like 10k words and ya girl was getting antsy
Bob’s name rang across his own mind, repeated in your soft voice. It wrapped him in a smooth silk ribbon, begging him to give in to the sweet temptation of your moans.
Over and over again you called out to him while he hovered over you. His thrusts were deep and all consuming, as his hands found their way over the supple expanse of your bare skin— familiar and foreign all at once.
He could feel the heat bubbling at his core, threatening to spill into the consolation of your body spread before him.
And then, all at once, his hold on your hips gave way, and the warm skin beneath his touch began to feel far more flimsy, and cool to the touch.
He grasped for your body, hungry to feel the fullness of your flesh at his fingertips only to be met with a handful of polyester.
His comforter.
His fist was pulling at the olive green duvet adorning his bed, and his hips were thoughtlessly rutting against the mattress.
Without opening his eyes, he buried his face into the pillow wedged underneath his head, huffing a defeated sigh into it as the realization struck him.
He was dreaming about you, again.
And not just any dream, but a pathetically disgusting wet dream. One that had drool pooling at the corner of his mouth and his dick twitching in his pajama pants.
Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.
The sunlight filtering through the curtains and the distant sounds of morning traffic from far below created a lovely backdrop of self-loathing, as he shook his head in disbelief at his own subconscious.
This was the third time in two weeks that he had dreamt of you in a less than suitable scenario— which was incredibly inappropriate given your strictly professional relationship.
He had absolutely no business dreaming about your naked body underneath his, and the sweet little moans that might slip past your lips in bed.
He felt like some sort of sick, deprived freak for even having those thoughts about you. You’d been nothing but kind to him from the moment you met. You were his co-worker, or perhaps more-so his employee, but either way, your relationship was meant to be professional.
Bucky had enlisted your help. He’d known you during his short stint in politics and knew you were just who they needed to negotiate with Valentina.
With your PR and legal experience you became a somewhat glorified manager for the new avengers, working as a protective barrier between them and De Fontaine.
What began as brief meetings and hesitant extensions of trust between you and the crew of rag tag superheroes, became shared jokes over takeout and collaborative conversations about their future.
You’d grown closer with each member of the Thunderbolts over months of keeping a constant presence in the tower, but your connection with Bob was almost immediate.
You noticed him right away— the way he purposefully carried himself in such an invisible manner.
In meetings, everyone was always so loud, fighting to be heard. Yelena, Alexei, John— even Bucky and Ava who could sometimes sit in silence— had no issue raising their voices to get their point across. But Bob was always quiet, watching idle and content as everyone else brought their opinions to the table.
After your first, and incredibly chaotic, scheduled meeting, you pulled him aside.
“Did you have anything to add?”
Your question wasn’t sarcastic or antagonizing, but instead filled with silent observation and curiosity.
Besides your initial introduction, that was the first time you’d spoken to him directly, and the way your eyes peered up at him, almost made him melt into the floor.
“No.” He wrinkled his brows and shook his head, with a polite grin on his lips.
“You sure? Everyone had quite a lot to say, I’d be more than happy to write down any conditions or stipulations that you have.” You didn’t take your eyes off of him as you spoke.
He just stared, carefully shaking his head, still in a daze of intimidation while unintentionally taking notice of the differing hues in your eyes.
“Questions? Anything?” You kept talking and he thought he might combust.
“No, I think I’m good.” He was smiling kindly despite the frantic thoughts running through his mind. He couldn’t pinpoint why he was so nervous talking to you. Maybe it was because he could smell the faint aroma of your perfume and hear the gentle melodic beating of your heart.
“Well if you think of anything let me know. It’s what I’m here for.”
With those last words you offered him a close-lipped smile and left the room.
A few days after that encounter, he came face to face with you yet again.
This time, the crew was preparing for a press briefing.
They all sat in some conference room of a swanky hotel waiting for reporters and journalists to fill the ballroom before being paraded in front of them and forced to answer juvenile questions about how they planned to protect the city.
Valentina had scheduled it, but of course you were there to stand behind the scenes and make sure nothing went awry.
And just his luck, you had somehow gravitated across the room to stand right next to Bob, shoulders nearly touching at the close proximity.
It was easy to see his foot tapping incessantly against the freshly vacuumed carpet. You watched for a solid minute as his shoe rapped repeatedly on the floor before you finally broke the prolonged silence inhabiting the space between you,
“You’re just as deserving to be here you know?”
You could tell he was nervous.
Everyone else was bored and dreading the press conference ahead of them, ready to put on fake smiles and give their best bullshit answers, but Bob was terrified.
It wasn’t necessarily the public speaking aspect that fuelled his apprehension, but more so his rather unfortunate history with New York City as a whole.
“Yeah, like I didn’t try to take out the entire city three months ago.” His sarcasm hit your ears but his eyes refused to meet yours.
“Yeah but you also found your way back to yourself, that’s impressive.” You spoke quietly, nudging his shoulder with your own.
“You’re powerful, but you also represent what’s real. I admire you for that.” He finally glanced over at you as your simple compliment hit him with an impenetrable weight.
You had a pleasant look in your eyes, one of reassurance and understanding. It had a way of making all of the nerves in his body dissipate, while simultaneously releasing a million butterflies in his stomach.
After that brief exchange, he began noticing how often you went out of your way to be close to him: always greeting him first when you walked into a room, picking the seat next to his every chance you got, constantly drumming up conversation to get to know more about him.
He chalked it up to your naturally charming demeanor— nothing more, nothing less. Although there was always a voice in the back of his head trying to trick him into thinking there was something else hiding in the way you spoke to him— something flirtatious.
But it was all innocent. It had to be. Just two people with an overtly friendly professional relationship.
Until the first time he woke up a sweaty, heaving mess after having an extremely dirty dream about you.
It happened the night you grabbed his thigh.
Of course the second you touched him like that, his subconscious tapped into a dormant corner of his brain that needed you in a deeper way— a more intimate way.
What started as a meeting to discuss a trademark infringement, ended with everyone sharing anecdotes from past jobs over Thai takeout.
John was in the middle of telling some long drawn-out story when Ava interrupted him with a witty remark that sent everyone into a laughing fit.
Bob had never heard such a sudden unsolicited sound escape you.
You were always so intentional with everything you did; the volume of your voice, the measurement of your delivery, your word choice. It was all so put together and careful. So when he heard the laugh that bubbled up from deep in your chest, he looked over at you in awe.
And as if the sound alone hadn’t stunned him enough, the way your hand shot out to his leg completely rewired the chemistry of his brain.
Your palm was resting on his thigh, fingertips just barely curled against his jeans as you attempted to tether yourself back to earth from laughing so hard.
Everyone else was too busy laughing or talking over one another to notice your hand on his thigh. But Bob was completely frozen, just staring down to where your touch met his body, cursing the denim that kept him from feeling your skin on his.
7 seconds.
That’s how long your hand stayed on his leg. He knew because it was the longest 7 seconds of his life, yet somehow not long enough.
As you came down from your high, nothing but tiny giggles fizzing off your lips, you gently slipped your hand from his thigh, as if nothing happened.
That night he dreamt about you beneath him, sunk onto your knees, taking his cock down your throat.
He felt completely ashamed and yet indisputably smitten when he woke up. It was all just a figment of his imagination— your sweet lips wrapped around him, humming sweet nothings with his dick on your tongue.
And it would’ve been fine if it happened once.
It could’ve been something he brushed off and tried to forget about every time your paths crossed, but it didn’t just happen once.
It had been nearly two weeks since that first dream, and here he was rolling out of bed, guilty yet again, of letting wildly unprofessional visions of you slip into his mind while he slept.
He’d be remiss to say he couldn’t help it, but with the way the two of you were constantly interacting and chit chatting in a way that teetered between co-workers and something more, he thought maybe there was a chance you harbored some sort of feelings for him too.
But every time he thought his crush could be reciprocated, his own doubts knocked him down a peg.
Friends— you were definitely just friends. But God did he want it to be more, and God did he have to stop having these dreams.
So today, his mission was to avoid you completely.
Facing the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he silently begged the universe to give him a break, hoping and praying he wouldn’t run into you at any point.
He needed a reset— needed to retrain his brain into thinking of you as a friend and absolutely nothing more. And given the way he couldn’t even look you in the face sometimes without being dragged back into a distant memory of one of his wet dreams, a few days without any interactions might be the best thing for his psyche.
His plan started off great, he didn’t see you once the entire morning— didn’t even hear a mention of your name.
It would’ve been a perfect day, free from thoughts of you, until his afternoon training with Yelena sent him into somewhat of a downward spiral.
They’d been working on telepathy for weeks.
He was still trying to figure out how to balance his powers and emotions. His constant fear that tapping into The Sentry’s powers would invite his less desirable entity into the mix, held him back from trying anything too risky, but Yelena had finally convinced him to start small and focus on his mental abilities.
It began with Telekineses, spending days on end trying to manipulate objects with just his thoughts. He felt an unbelievable wave of accomplishment on the fourth day when he sent a coffee mug levitating in the air.
Then it progressed into him using that same line of power to communicate without speaking aloud. It shocked him how quickly he was able to place his own voice in Yelena’s head, sending her words and phrases through nothing but eye contact.
Now she wanted him to try projecting an image into her mind instead of just words. And the idea of it didn’t feel too far off from what he’d already achieved, but he was massively mistaken after trying and failing multiple times to show Yelena a simple memory.
He just couldn’t figure out how to bridge the gap between telepathically amplifying his voice into her mind, and conveying an image. He tried the whole afternoon, and each time he failed it pushed him closer to the brink of utter frustration.
He’d been on a roll. Weeks of working toward the reappearance of his superhuman abilities with a hope that he could be in control, but now it felt like it was all crumbling down around him just because of one stupid hiccup.
With the pit in his stomach swallowing him whole at hearing Yelena tell him they should stop for the day and pick up tomorrow, all he wanted was to see your smile— compassionate and tender offering him an inkling of mercy— but he was quickly reminded of his initial goal for the day. He was supposed to be staying away from you, keeping you out of his mind.
So why were you the only thing he could think about after such a gruelling training session? Why couldn’t he get lost in a good book, or mindlessly watch a movie to keep the constant thoughts of you at bay? No matter how hard he tried, you were there. But perhaps the persistent notion of you filling his head was the only thing keeping him from sinking into a hole of deplorable self-pity. He was standing at the edge though, spending the rest of the day in a never ending cycle of self-doubt.
His bad mood resulted in him turning down the invitation to join everyone for dinner at the deli down the street. They gave him a hard time for saying no. Alexei even reminded him about the pile of old tattered board games that sat on the tables, and how Bob beat everyone at uno the last time they went.
The memory brought a smile to his face, but he waved them on, ensuring he was just tired, when in reality he didn’t have the energy to be faced with strangers who were excited by seeing the “new avengers” out in the city. He felt like a failure— undeserving of the attention and confused about his role alongside the others.
So while everyone left with hungry bellies and excited hollering about a game of Yahtzee, Bob stayed stationary on the couch, glued to the cushions underneath him, his eyes desperately scanning the book in his hands as he seeked a shift in his headspace.
20 minutes of words jumbled in his brain, with the plot of the novel turning to unrecognizable mush the more he read, and he was ready to toss the book to the floor.
Until the elevator doors opened.
You.
He didn’t even have to look in your direction to know the sound of your voice as you greeted the almost empty room.
“Hello… anybody home?”
The sarcastic edge to your words gave way to the undeniable smile in your voice.
Bob turned to watch as you walked into the room, your head on a swivel as you searched for someone— anyone— until your eyes met his.
“Did everyone leave you behind to fend for yourself on a Friday night?”
You approached him with a wide grin stretching across your cheeks like you were happy to see him, and it was the exact remedy he was looking for to cure his bad day blues.
“Everyone went to dinner, and I decided to stay back." He sat up taller on the couch, correcting the slouch in his posture and shifting his body to face you.
“Must be a good book then huh?” Your attention moved to the object in his hands.
“Oh, yeah…” His eyes wandered down to the pages beneath him, the same ones he had been trying to make sense of, re-reading them repeatedly, when all he could think about was you.
“Well I was dropping by to bring this to Walker.”
You waved a manilla envelope in the air. It was sealed with an air of confidentiality to it.
“He didn’t think I could get my hands on it, wanted to see the look on his face when I gave it to him…”
You placed the envelope on a nearby table as you spoke.
“can you make sure he gets it when they get back?” You took a few small steps closer to Bob as you cocked your head to the side.
“Yeah, of course.” He should say more. He’d been wanting to see you all day— to talk to you. But he was at a loss for words.
“Well, I’ll head out so you can have the evening to yourself.” You began turning your back toward him when his next words caused a pause in your movement,
“You don’t have to go.” His voice sounded louder than he anticipated as it carried across the room.
You stared at him, a subtle smile on your lips as you stood still in the middle of the room.
“I just- you came all the way down here, you can stay for a little while if you want.” He felt foolish, extending an invitation for you to stay and do what exactly? Even he didn’t know. He just didn’t want you to leave.
“And honestly, it would be nice to have some company.” He decided to go with a version of the truth. Still in a slump from his failed attempt at superhero-ing, he could use your presence to bring some much needed light into his evening.
He fidgeted with the book in his lap, looking anywhere but your face as you took too long to reply. He was almost bracing himself for rejection as he dog eared the same page over and over again with his thumb.
“Rough day?” The words left you in a simple extension of consolation.
He didn’t have to vocalize his frustrations for you to know he was feeling off. You’d gotten to know Bob pretty well, and his unusually low energy was apparent to you from the moment you walked into the room.
“Yeah actually.” He let out a sigh while tossing his book onto the coffee table in front of him.
That was one thing about you and Bob’s relationship, he felt like he didn’t need to hide from you. You radiated such a gentle kindness, it made him feel at ease.
“I did some training with Yelena today and I feel so stuck in my head about it.”
“What happened?”
You were standing near the arm of the couch now, and something about having you so close helped him to relax for the first time all day.
“We’ve been working on telepathy and I can’t figure out how to project my memories…” He started to explain, running a hand through his hair as the words tumbled from his mouth.
“I can speak to her, but I just can’t show her things and-”
“Speak to her? Like you can say something to her with just your mind?” You didn’t mean to interrupt, but Bob so rarely spoke about the abilities given to him from the sentry serum.
“Yeah.” He looked up at you, his eyes the warmest shade of blue you’d ever seen, his stare gentle.
His obvious frustration at recalling earlier events was replaced by a dopey grin as he watched your face light up in amusement over the mention of his powers.
“Can you do it right now? With me?” The curiosity in your voice as you leaned forward was so cute, he’d do anything you asked him to.
“Like this?”
His voice echoed in your mind, but his lips didn’t move.
“Holy shit!” You couldn’t help the excitement that burst from you at the welcomed intrusion.
Of course you knew he had supernatural abilities, but to you he was always Bob, never The Sentry or The Void, so experiencing something so otherworldly in such a casual setting was a bit unnerving, in the best way.
“I feel like I’m so close to being able to communicate an image or memory but I just can’t get there.”
You could hear the disappointment creeping back into his voice as he continued explaining his dilemma, He craned his head back, staring toward the sky like there was a nonexistent answer written on the ceiling in invisible ink.
“Try.”
His eyes shot in your direction, confusion painted on his features at hearing the word leave your lips.
“I feel like I’m probably not as intimidating as a former Red Room assassin.” You tried to reason with him, hoping he’d give it another shot. You hated to see him so defeated.
“C’mon, it’s low stakes. Just more practice.” You leaned in even further over the arm of the couch, batting your lashes and smiling sweetly.
Good God.
“Yeah. Okay.” He nodded as he felt you sit next to him before the words had fully left his lips.
You sunk onto the couch cushions, turning your body toward his with anticipation fueling your movements.
“So how do we do this? Do I need to like… focus on being receptive? Should I close my eyes?” You watched him carefully, eyes entirely too focused, causing him to shift in his seat.
“You can do whatever you want.” A soft laugh trailed in his response at your excited desperation to help.
“Okay.” You closed your eyes.
You were sitting in front of him, eyes closed, eyebrows slightly knit together, body angled toward him, and he almost forgot why you were sitting so close to him in the first place.
“Here,” you peeked an eye open, carefully reaching for his hands, intertwining them with yours.
“Maybe this will help.” Your eyes were closed again, concentration evident in the twitch of your lips.
He shut his eyes, afraid that if he kept them open he’d get carried away studying your face instead of focusing on the task at hand.
Focus, focus, focus.
The room was silent— so quiet he could hear your steady breaths, one after the other.
Trying his best to deliver a thought to you— the same one he’d been envisioning in training, a memory from a trip he took in college— a serene moment: mountains in the distance, a river running at his feet, pine trees overhead. But he couldn’t stay centered on that moment, not with your hands holding his.
Your skin was so soft, and your fingers curled against his so delicately.
Your touch was heavenly— so light and soothing. It was just like in his dreams. Your skin under his touch, warm and sensitive and so, so soft. His hands roaming your body, holding onto your hips while you lay beneath him, your flesh molding perfectly at his fingertips. Your head thrown back on his pillow and the sweet sounds of your pleasure filling the room…
A sudden jolt at his hands pulled him from his trance.
His eyes shot open only to see you already staring at him, mouth parted.
You were still holding onto his hands, tighter than before, and the once quiet cadence of your breath was now amplified and much more erratic.
Oh.
Oh.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Bob shot up from the couch, taking a few steps back to create space between you.
“Jesus Christ- I’m sorry that was not-” His hands ran anxiously through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.
He just showed you a vision from one of his wet dreams… about you.
Shame and humiliation ran rampant throughout his body, he couldn’t even look at you— still sitting speechless like a deer in headlights on the couch.
You hadn’t moved a muscle, you were just there, processing, or maybe judging. Probably feeling immensely violated— rightfully so— and all he could do was panic. He was disgusting, he was perverted, you probably hated him-
“You did it.” His thoughts paused at the sound of your voice.
He looked at you, sitting calmly on the couch, biting back a smile from your lips.
“What?”
“You did it. It worked.” A smile. You were smiling.
He just sent an extremely explicit fabrication of the two of you fucking, into your brain, and you were smiling at him.
“I didn’t mean to show you that. I- Shit, I’m sorry.” There was nothing else for him to do but avoid eye contact and apologize profusely.
“Hey. It’s okay. Really. It just surprised me” You were speaking slowly— sincere. Trying to calm him down.
He wanted to escape his own body at that point, the embarrassment was too much to handle. He was seconds away from dropping to the floor and crawling underneath the coffee table.
“I didn’t mind it… If that makes you feel any better.” Your voice barely reached above a whisper as you looked down at your hands that were once warmed by his touch, the evidence of a smile still lingering on your lips.
He stopped breathing. Head spinning at your meek confession.
“I like you, you know?” Another quiet admission from your lips.
“I thought maybe you’d eventually ask me on a date or something, but this works too.” Your voice bloomed into a playful tenor of sarcasm as Bob's eyes met yours.
A date? He had spent this entire time carefully dancing around his feelings for you when he could've just asked you out.
“We can go on a date.” The words toppled out of his mouth, running into each other as they rushed from his brain to his lips.
“We should go on a date.” He was nodding, still spewing his inner dialogue with his eyes wide in revelation.
You laughed, deep and abrupt, and the sound of it was music to his ears. Even more beautiful then that first time he'd heard it with your hand resting on his thigh.
“Do you want to try again?” The question left you slightly exasperated, a residual chuckle still stirring in your voice.
He looked at you with a hint of confusion, still in shock that this conversation was playing out in real time.
You nodded your head toward the spot next to you on the couch, silently inviting him to take a seat.
“I mean just to see if you can do it again...” You shrugged nonchalantly but there was something mischievous about the way you were smirking at him that pulled him back to the couch.
The second he landed on the cushion next to you, your hands slid into his with ease.
“I don’t know if I can.” Nerves suddenly scattered across his body as he realized this was new territory. You were sat even closer to him now— your body more receptive and relaxed.
“Oh now you’re shy?" It was a delicate nudge— a playful taunt that rolled flirtatiously off your tongue, adding to the fire burning at Bob's cheeks.
“Show me more. I want to see.” Your thumb rubbed back and forth over the top of his hand, a comforting gesture, but it caused the heat to spread to his chest.
“Okay.” The word floated from him and he couldn’t tell if he spoke it aloud or directly into your mind.
You didn’t close your eyes this time. Instead, you watched him, staring intently, your lashes fluttering with every slow blink of your lids.
His gaze fell to your lips, thinking about what they’d feel like against his. Remembering how plump and swollen they’d looked in his dreams when they were muffled around his cock.
He hadn’t even noticed how his chest started heaving at the thought, his breath now quick and shallow as it left his body.
Then your eyes drifted to his mouth. Both of you switching between eye contact and stealing glances at each other’s lips as you leaned in, weight shifting on the couch until you were inches away-
“Brought you back a pastrami on rye!” Yelena’s voice cut through the room, sending your bodies into an unexpected retreat to either side of the couch.
"Didn't expect to see you here." Yelena's comment was casual, completely unassuming as she came into view, taking a seat on the couch, right in-between you and Bob.
You stood swiftly, greeting everyone and making your way to the envelope waiting where you left it on the table across the room. The reason you were here in the first place— a simple envelope reminding you that you had indeed not shown up with the intention of confessing your feelings for Bob Reynolds and nearly fucking him on the couch in the very public living space of the tower.
"I was bringing this for you." You picked up the piece of mail, handing it to Walker as you made your way to the elevator.
You didn't stay to see his reaction or even attempt to give him a hard time for doubting your ability to retrieve it, instead you said a few quick goodbyes and made a swift exit of the building.
Bob watched as you left.
Of course he wanted you to stay longer, wanted to sit in the same room as you for a few more minutes even if it meant sharing your presence with everyone else.
But judging by the grin you couldn't wipe off your lips and the way his eyes were lit up like a love-sick puppy, it was for the best that you left before anyone could question why the two of you were so giddy.
But it was safe to say his infatuation induced haze followed him well into the night, even gracing him with yet another dream about you when he finally drifted off to sleep.
