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evil hayfever

pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x fem civilian gf!reader synopsis: when Bob comes home from a mission covered in pollen and racked with fever, you try to take care of him as best you can. content: mdni!! 18+. established relationship, porn with (a little) plot, sex pollen trope, bob is hella greedy in this one, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, bob makes reader squirt, mutual masturbation, unprotected pinv (wrap before you tap folks), cowgirl, doggy, mating press, hair pulling, a little biting, scratching, dry humping, bob is a yapper word count: 7.6k notes: hi y'all this is my first time writing a reader insert, and also my first time writing smut. I just needed to put Bob in a situation so bad I didn't even finish building my blog smh. I tried to keep reader descriptions minimal, but I hope y'all enjoy!! Likes and reblogs are obviously appreciated and also feedback is always welcome :) Enjoy!!

You’re halfway through a rigorous deep clean of the kitchen when the front door slams open.

“Bob?”

“Expecting anyone else?”

“Be nicer to my door, dummy,” you say. You pause your wiping to go out and greet him, but before you can get too close you hear him yelling.

“Stop! Don’t come near me yet, okay I’m not sure I’m safe so just… stay there.”

He rounds the corner, and the sight of him is enough to make you laugh out loud. He’s covered head to toe in a fine yellow powder. You can barely make out the blue of his Sentry suit beneath the substance.

“Mission was a bust then?”

He grimaces, then shrugs.

“What was the mission anyways, or is that classified.” You know it doesn’t matter because you’ll find out anyway, whether it’s from him, or Yelena or (god forbid) Alexei once he’s three fruity cocktails in.

“Illegal lab, synthesising hormones so they could test them on people, see if they could control the types of powers they gave them.”

“So I guess you got into a fight with a plant and got your ass handed to you,” you say, the corners of your mouth pulling into a grin when he fixes you with a glare.

“I didn’t get my ass handed to me. I’m an environmentalist I don’t fight plants.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his weak excuse, and you just hum instead.

“So why are you tracking evil pollen all over my freshly vacuumed carpet instead of the beautiful tiles of Avengers Tower?”

You take a step towards him and you see his fingers twitch at his side, before he takes a careful step back. There’s a blank look in his eyes, like his mind’s gone foggy, but it’s gone in a blink.

“Don’t know. Just felt like I had to.”

“You okay? I was joking about the evil pollen, but you’re not having any side effects right? Do you know what the plant was meant to do?”

He just shakes his head, more pollen falling around him. “Unidentified. I feel fine, nose is a bit stuffy maybe. Evil hayfever. Not sure why I came here though, maybe I missed you too much.”

He says the last part softly and it pulls at something in your chest. You sigh. The rest of your housework will have to get done tomorrow, or whenever Bob goes back to the Tower.

“How about you get showered and I rustle up some dinner and we can watch a movie, yeah,” you say turning around. You miss the way he stares at you, eyes dragging down your body and landing on your ass. You miss the way his jaw clenches and he has to rub at his face to snap himself out of it. When you turn back around he looks dazed and when he looks back up at you he’s blinking rapidly.

“Bob, honey. Shower. No evil pollen on my couch okay?”

There’s a light chuckle and you’re not sure he can actually hear you, but before you can repeat yourself he’s trudging off towards the bathroom. There’s something mechanical about the way he walks, as if he’s on autopilot, but you decide not to push it. Instead you get your vacuum and work on cleaning up the spots where the pollen has fallen off his body.

You aren’t sure how long he’s in the shower for, but you manage to get the kitchen clean while he’s gone, all promises of dinner forgotten when you open your fridge and realise you have nothing in there. You’re leaning against the counter with aching muscles and the persistent smell of bleach wafting off of you when you feel strong arms around your waist.

“So pretty,” Bob mumbles into your hair, arms strong around you, pulling you flush to his chest.

“Jesus. Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry, just look so pretty right now,” he’s still mumbling into your hair, pushing you further into the counter. His hands are sliding under your shirt, thumbs pressing into the flesh underneath your ribs.

You snort, trying to pry his arms from around your waist. He doesn’t budge, but he does let you turn around and look up at him.

Your heart falters for a minute when you see him. Freshly showered, hair still damp, being swallowed up by the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen and some grey sweats, he looks every bit like your boyfriend and nothing like Valentina’s Golden Guardian. He’s looking down at you, eyes still slightly unfocused, but he’s smiling.

“I smell like bleach and I’m in the rattiest clothes I own. I’m pretty sure I have grease from the oven on my cheeks. You’re nuts. Are you feeling better though?”

He leans down, pressing his nose to your hair.

“Smell fine to me, look great. I’m in the kitchen with my hot girlfriend, I’m great.”

His voice is low, almost dangerous. You put your hands on his chest, pushing him away slightly so you can look at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His eyes still look far away, and it feels like his grip is tightening with every passing second.

“Head feels a bit funny, hazy. Still fine though.”

“Maybe you really do have evil hayfever,” you laugh, poking him in the stomach. You’re always surprised by how solid he is under his sweaters. You let your hand rest on his abs as you look into his eyes.

His lips twitch.

“Beautiful and funny.”

He ducks down, nose brushing yours and his lips ghost over yours, his eyes fluttering closed, but you push his chest a little harder. You must catch him off-guard because he stumbles backwards a little, his arms loosening enough for you to duck underneath. He furrows his brow, fingers toying with the ends of his sleeves.

“I thought you said dinner after I shower,” he pouts, taking a step towards you arms reaching out automatically.

“Bad news. Nothing in my fridge, and now I need to shower. I’ll be quick okay, how about you use that sweet sweet Avengers money to get us some cheap takeout, and then you can touch and kiss me all you want, okay?”

You see his jaw tense, but for the first time tonight you think you see his eyes focus.

“What do you mean you have nothing in your fridge?”

He’s pushing past you before you can explain, opening your fridge. You see his shoulder drop in a sigh.

“I get paid in a couple days,” you say sheepishly. He turns around, hand on his hips.

“Next time tell me, so I can use my sweet sweet Avengers money to buy you real food. Take your time in the shower I’ll go out and get some food for us. I need the air anyways,” he mumbles.

“You don’t need to, just DoorDash some pizza. Or does the Sentry only eat woowoo health foods?”

You cock an eyebrow at him. He fixes you with an unimpressed stare, but your smart mouth seems to be forgotten as his eyes drag down your body, a full sweep at first and then stopping where your shirt has slid down over your shoulder exposing a bit of your collarbone. His gaze lingers. The air in the kitchen shifts and you find yourself squirming a little bit. You can see his jaw working; tensing and untensing. You stand there in silence pinned under his gaze before he snaps out of it.

“I need the walk,” he says. His voice sounds strained and he breezes past you like he can’t get out of the kitchen fast enough, the lingering scent of his shower gel being the only reminder that he was there at all.

By the time he gets back you’ve managed to shower, and get a decent way into a new book. You almost consider checking if he is coming back when you hear your front door opening, and the smell of pizza wafting in.

“You could have just DoorDashed!”

“DoorDash has shitty pizza. I brought you good pizza, because I love you and don’t want you filling your body up with Domino’s bullshit.”

You hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, and then he’s in the living room, placing the pizza on the coffee table with some glasses and a bottle of soda. He does this without looking at you once and when he finally turns you hear him inhale. Deep. Slow. Pained.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry?”

He motions to you with his eyes, and that faraway look is back. You watch as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth, eyes locked on where the birthmark on your thigh is peeking out from the hem of his shirt. “Any shorts on underneath that?”

You shake your head, closing your book.

“Fuck. Honey, you can’t do that. I can’t focus.”

“What is with you. It’s a shirt,” you snort. You reach over to open the pizza box, and you hear Bob inhale as the shirt rides up slightly. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s clenching his jaw.

“It’s not me, it’s you. You look so good today. I don’t… I don’t understand it’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

You can’t help preening a little at the compliment, smiling to yourself as you pull a slice of pizza from the box, almost moaning as you take the first bite.

“Did the evil pollen give you CTE? I look the same as I always do,” you say around a mouth full of pizza. You’re looking at him now and he looks… frazzled, jaw clenching and his hands gripping his hair.

“No you- you’ve done something, baby. You look different, I don’t know.”

He’s still running his hands through his hair when he moves to sit next to you on the couch. “You just look so fucking beautiful right now.”

“Oh I must be a complete uggo every other day then,” you tease as you lean over for another slice of pizza. You hear him exhale, and then feel him move next to you, inching closer, hand resting on your thigh. His hand is hot enough to make you ignore the way something stirs deep within you. You abandon your pizza, leaning over to place a hand on his forehead instead, basically climbing into his lap in the process. You try to ignore the way his hand creeps under the shirt, gently cupping the bottom of your ass.

“Jesus, babe. Are you sure you’re okay? I think you have a fever.”

He uses his other hand to grab the hand you have on his forehead, giving it a kiss.

“Can’t get sick. Sentry Serum,” he mumbles into your wrist. When he pulls your hand away from his lips, it’s to place a soft kiss at the base of your throat. You sigh, pizza forgotten as his other hand moves underneath your (his) shirt. It roams over your stomach, ghosts over your breast and then settles on your ass with his other hand. He’s squeezing a little harder now as his kisses grow hungrier. He nips at the skin of your neck, groaning as he does and it takes everything in you not to give in as you push his shoulders into the back of the couch.

“I need you to listen to me.”

“I am,” he insists, still trying to get at your neck.

“Properly honey. Please.”

He sighs, leaning back to look at you. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes have darkened.

“I think you have a fever okay.”

“It’s fine. Sentry Serum will deal with it,” he’s leaning in again, and his hands move to the back of your thighs pulling you flush against him. “So beautiful,” he murmurs into your neck. “So so beautiful, baby.”

You grab his face — one last attempt at getting him to really listen to you, and you swear your heart’s going to give out when he looks up at you, eyes pleading, pupils blown out. You put a hand to his cheek and lean your forehead against his and try really hard to ignore how his hands knead the flesh of your thighs.

“Honey, you can’t ‘Sentry Serum’ your way out of everything.” He opens his mouth to argue, but it dies in his throat when you raise an eyebrow at him. “You have a fever, Bob. I don’t want you to overexert yourself. Valentina would kill me anyways.”

“I’d never let Valentina touch you,” he says, ignoring everything else. “I’ll always keep you safe, angel.” He shifts as he says this, making you sit down properly in his lap, pressing his nose against yours. Feeling him underneath you, so solid and broad makes your brain short circuit for a moment. That’s all the opening he needs, he leans forward and slots his mouth over yours, soft at first then hungrier and harder. His grip on you tightens and you know he’s going to leave bruises. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“And what about the other thing.”

“Won’t overexert, I promise. Please, honey,” he pleads. His hands move from your thighs to your hips and he grinds you down into him. “We’ll just do this okay. Just this, nothin’ else, I promise sweet girl.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,”

“Pinky promise me,” you say, peeling your hands away from his face to interlock your pinkies.

“Pinky promise, now come here,” he says, pulling your face to his. When your lips connect this time there’s no softness. He’s practically devouring you, teeth pulling at your bottom lip. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to land. One moment, they’re kneading your thighs, the next your breast, the next cupping your ass. All through this he’s rutting up into you, and you can’t help but whine when you feel how hard he is in his sweats. He pulls away abruptly when you do, breathing heavy.

“Don’t do that.”

“Huh?” You breathe, confused.

“Don’t make that sound. You’re driving me insane. You’re tryna kill me.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, latching on to the spot where your neck meets your jaw and sucking hard. You buck your hips into him and you have to bite your lip hard to stop from whining again when you feel the hard length of him against you. When you slip your hands under his shirt he pulls away like he’s been burned. He pulls you off his lap, putting you back on the couch, then he’s standing, arms in front of him. He has a frenzied look in his eye, and his lips are plump from kissing.

“Honey,” you stand, meaning to go to him.

“Stay over there.” His voice comes out firm and commanding and it roots you to the spot where you stand. “I think I need to leave. You can’t touch me, honey. I’ll explode.”

“Do you mean literally, or…” you look down, eyeing the very obvious and probably painful hard on he has.

“Literally. Or both. I don’t know. Just stay over there while I figure this out okay,” he pleads with you, hands over his face.

“Figure what out?”

“I wanna fuck you angel.”

“Sounds like you have it figured out then?”

You start moving towards him again. “Is this because you pinky promised me earlier?”

He moves back, skittish, eyes looking you up and down frantically.

“No this is different. I feel like I can’t control myself. I feel like I’m gonna hurt you, okay. Stay there,” he grits out when you keep moving towards him.

You put your hands up in surrender throwing yourself back on the couch.

“One moment you’re all over me, the next you’re telling me I can’t touch you because you wanna fuck me? Am I missing something?”

“You don’t get it. When you touched me just then… I wanted to tear your panties off.”

“You’ve done that before.”

“Okay well I wanted to pin you down and fuck you into the couch.”

“Done that too,” you point out, ignoring the way you have to clench your thighs together when he says it.

“Different. Like skip all the other stuff just straight to fucking you. I need to feel you around me so bad I’m scared I won’t be able to control myself. I don’t wanna make you feel good. I wanna make me feel good,” he admits and it’s like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. This is new. Bob had always prioritised your pleasure and comfort over his even if it meant he had to finish himself off. So to hear him admit that he wants to use you? It’s new. It’s refreshing. It’s so fucking hot.

“So then come over here and do it.”

Now it’s his turn to get frustrated because you’re not listening. “You don’t get it. I wanna fuck you until you can’t feel your legs. ‘Til you forget everything but what it feels like to be wrapped around me. Maybe even more than that. You’ll be so sore honey, I’m not doing that to you.” Your thighs clench again and you know he notices because the lights above you flicker.

“Bob-”

“No. It’s not happening.”

“I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

“Not the way I wanna do it.”

You stop talking, opting to slip your fingers into the waistband of your (ruined) underwear and slide it down your legs. You ball it up and toss it to him. You watch in awe as he brings it up to his nose almost like it’s muscle memory and takes a deep whiff, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch one of his hands disappear down the front of his sweats, and you watch as he palms himself, pushing your underwear against his nose so hard you think he’s gonna hurt himself. You watch as he works himself faster, brows furrowed as he struggles to keep his eyes open, still looking at you in his shirt. Knowing you really have nothing on underneath seems to spur him on and you watch his sweats move as he keeps going. He’s panting, trying his hardest to stop his desperate little moans from escaping. You have to physically keep yourself from moaning when he holds them between his teeth, freeing up his other hand so he can push his sweats down just enough so he can pull out his aching cock. You feel your pussy clench around nothing at the sight. You can feel your skin getting hotter and your breathing picking up as he pulls it out almost clumsily. He looks like he’s so hard it hurts, tip red and leaking. You feel yourself practically drooling when he uses his free had to smear his precum all over it and then start bucking into his fist, desperate. You move on autopilot really, when you bring your ring and middle finger to your mouth and suck on them. His eyes are still locked on yours and it makes you feel so shy, but so desperate. Your thighs are clenched together but you release your fingers with a popping sound and drag your hand down your body, settling it right between them. The lights flicker above you as he opens his mouth to speak, your panties falling to the floor.

“Spread ‘em pretty girl,” he manages to choke out, still bucking desperately into his fist. “C’mon, lovely lemme see. It’s- it’s gonna help me. Please, baby,” he moans desperately.

You don’t make him beg. Still holding eye contact you spread your thighs. You can’t help but giggle when you hear him let out a low whistle.

“So wet f’me honey. Go on.” He’s pleading. His hips never stop moving and you’re seriously scared he’s gonna hurt himself with the way he tugs at his cock. You circle your clit with your fingers, nearly twitching without how sensitive you are and when you slide your fingers down down your slit. Bob is panting in front of you, sweat matting his bangs down. He’s still struggling to keep his eyes open.

“C’mon gorgeous. You’re so wet, bet you’ll slide right in huh. That’s all for me?”

You don’t know why he asks, the answer’s always yes. And he’s right. When you push against your entrance, there’s basically no resistance. It almost shocks you how easily they push in. You get to work immediately, pumping your fingers at first and when that does little to sooth the ache deep inside you, you start curling them, trying to reach that spot inside you that will really have you seeing stars. You’re grinding the heel of your hand into your clit and you’re getting so close. You dig your toes into the fabric of the couch as you ride your own hand, desperately chasing your own release. You can’t stop the little whines that escape from your mouth.

“There you go sweet girl, you’re so close, I can see it. Show me you can do it, please, baby. C’mon honey let go,” Bob grits out. You feel your eyes flutter shut as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens some more and just when you feel like you can’t get anymore wound up you feel it snap, suddenly and hard. You feel like you’ve had the air knocked out of you, and you have to slow your hand down. You open your eyes as the pleasure subsides, just to come face to face with Bob looking more pained than ever.

“Sweetheart, it’s not working. I’m trying so hard, baby it’s not enough.”

“So come over here then,” you manage to eke out.

There’s no argument this time. He steps out of his sweatpants and walks over to you. When he gets to you it’s like his eyes are glued to the spot where your fingers disappear into your pussy, glistening like they’re mocking him. Gently, he pulls your fingers out, running them over his cock first, then he puts them in his mouth. You clench around nothing as his tongue run over them, and he hollows his cheeks. His hips buck when you moan, and you feel his tip brush up against your hole, making you jolt away from him a little bit. His grip is firm as he pulls your fingers out and leans his forehead against yours. His eyes have gone a stormy shade of blue, and he holds your gaze a little before he peels them back down your body to your hole, fluttering and spasming around nothing.He drags you up from the couch, swapping your positions so that he’s the one sitting. He puts his hand around the back of your thigh, pulling you to him, manhandling you into straddling him.

“Go slow, but fuck, you need to make it quick. Can’t take much more.” His hands are on your hips, string but steady. You tease him a little more, running the head up and down your slit.

“I’m getting mixed messages, baby.”

“Please don’t play with me right now, honey. Not got much restraint left.” He squeezes your hip as he says this. Truth be told you don’t have much left in you either, so before he can ask you again, you sink down in one swift motion, your pelvis meeting his. It’s a stretch. You can never forget how much of him there is, but every single time you guys have sex the stretch feels brand new. There’s no longer that sting, but it’s still a tight fit. You rest your forehead against his, but he doesn’t give you a single moment to recover. You feel him shift underneath you as he plants his feet on the ground. And then he’s fucking up into you, rough, hard and fast.

“Bob—” you choke out, hands instinctively resting on his shoulders.

“I know. I’m sorry. I told you, fuck, that I was running out of restraint. I’m so sorry honey.” He’s kissing his apologies into your hairline, on your cheeks, on your neck. He’s lapping at the skin where your neck meets your jaw and all you can do is hold on when he keeps fucking up into you, relentless. “You feel so good, honey, so wet and hot for me. So tight. This is what I needed, you’re all I need, baby, fuck!” He wraps an arm around you to keep still, and the other on comes round your front, pushing you back a little, changing the angle. You ball up his sweater in your hands, so hard you feel your arms shaking but he keeps going. “She’s so good to me,” he whispers in your ear, “so eager, she’s made for me isn’t she. She’s mine forever,” he groans. The sound your hips make when they meet echoes obscenely around the living room and it’s taking all you have not to scream when his hand slips under your t-shirt again kneading your tits. “Gonna take this off ‘kay. Wanna see all of you.” He slows down enough to help you pull the shirt over your head and then he’s right back to his punishing pace. He watches, practically drooling as your tits bounce with every thrust. His free hand rests on one , slowly massaging it as he leans down and pops the other in his mouth. You don’t know what to focus on, his hands, or his mouth as sucks and nips and soothes with his tongue, or his cock; hard, hot, heavy, and punishing as he drives into you.

“Can feel you fluttering around me angel. You got another one f’me so soon? You gonna cum around this cock? Fuck, it’s like she wants to swallow me up, keep me inside forever. Is that what my baby wants? To have me inside forever?” he babbles. He’s lavishing kisses all over your chest now and his free hand moves down your body, reaching into the space where the of you connect. His fingers have barely grazed your clit when you feel yourself snap again, thighs quivering as another wave of pleasure knock into you. You rest your head on his chest, too tired to do anything except ride it out with him. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. ‘M right here for you, pretty. C’mon, I’m right here,” he’s cooing in your ear as you relax in his arms.

He slows down for a little bit, but you can still feel him, hard as ever, snug inside you. You whine when he pulls out, still sensitive. “I know, I know, sweetie I just need to do somethin’ real quick okay?” he mutters, more to himself than you. He maneuvers you both so that you’re lying on the couch chest down, pushing his hand between your shoulder blades to get you to arch. He pushes back in, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. She’s so wet for me baby, I wish you could see, wish you could feel how she’s still so tight just fuckin’ made for me.” He’s slamming into you again, and you have to bite into the couch cushion to stop yourself from crying out. You can hear Bob panting above you, fingers digging into your hips so hard it’s almost painful.

“Bob, fuck,” you cry out, muffled by the couch.

“I know, I know. Feels so good. So soft, baby.” The hand that was between your shoulder blades moves into your hair, gripping tight as he pushes your head further into the couch. You clench hard and it rips a groan out of him so desperate you’re surprised he doesn’t cum right then.

“You like that honey? Squeezing me so tight like that, you’re killing me here,” he whines. You can’t reply. You’re too full, too sensitive. He leans down, pressing a wet kiss between your shoulder blades. “So perfect like this, baby. Taking me so well.” Your thighs are sticky with a mix of sweat and your arousal, and you can feel that tell-tale heat creeping up on you again. “Doing so well for me,” he whispers into your ear, chest flush against your back, “taking it so so well, you’re made for this aren’t ya. Made to take me.” His pace is unrelenting, and his grip on your tightens. You can feel yourself fluttering around him, and you screw your eyes shut trying to delay the inevitable. “Again, sweet girl? You’re spoilin’ me tonight aren’t ya. So good to me, always so good to me, I’m… I’m sorry fuck baby, you’re doing so well, just give me another one please,” he’s mumbling into the nape of your neck. The hand that was guiding your hips into him goes round to your front, finding your clit instantly. He moves his fingers in lazy circles, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t know when you start, but you can hear yourself babbling, begging him for more. “My sweet girl wants more?” He asks, and you just nod, not trusting yourself to say anything coherent. He chuckles into your skin and then he does something he’s never done before: he bites you, right where your neck and shoulder meet. Not hard enough to hurt, but it sends a shock through your body so strong it pushes you over the edge. Your fingers dig into the couch cushion beneath you as you try to ground yourself.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Bob groans out, the hand in your hair moving to couch’s armrest. You’re about to complain when you hear a loud crack and a rip. You lift your head and open your eyes just in time to see your armrest separate from the rest of your couch. Bob stills, and you turn your head to face him. He’s panting, and there’s a look of mild surprise in his eyes.

“Dude, I just got this couch.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I told you I can’t- can’t control myself right now. I’m sorry baby. I’ll buy you a new one exactly like it.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, and you feel him move both his hands to your hips.

“Bob honey I can’t,” you moan when you feel him twitch inside you.

“You can, you’re my good girl. Fuck, please gimme more, I need more… I need you pleasepleaseplease. Just one more okay, one more should do it.” He presses a kiss to the spot where he just bit you. “C’mon angel. You’re so good, baby. Fuck I can still feel her squeezing me. Real tight like. Baby please.”

He’s rolling his hips against you, desperate.

“Alright, alright, just not here okay. Bedroom.”

He’s up before you can blink, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You swear he flies to your room, ripping the door off its hinges. You have to reinforce your apartment before he tears the whole damn thing down, you think. He wastes no time laying you on your bed, placing a pillow under your hips. He’s on top of you, knees on either side of your hips, hands hooking under your thighs so he can press your knees to your chest. You take him in, hair absolutely stuck down with sweat and eyes still stormy. His cheeks and neck are flushed and he looks ravenous as he stares down at you. You start giggling and he frowns.

“What’s so funny?”

“You look like freaky Pooh bear right now,” you giggle unable to contain it. Your giggles die in your throat as he takes his hands off of you and hooks his fingers into the collar of his sweater, pulling it over his head. You hear it land with a soft thud somewhere on your floor. You let yourself take him in, the broad planes of his shoulders, the scattering of freckles across his chest. Your eyes wander down to the hard lines of his abs and down lower to where his cock still stands at attention; red and angry and leaking. He presses his forehead to yours and forces you to look into his eyes instead.

“You were saying?” he asks, as he lowers his hips, sandwiching himself between your bodies. “Fuck, you’re wet. This what you like baby? Being treated like this, hm?”

He’s pressing his chest to yours, rocking his hips and dragging his cock along your slit. You try to turn your head, but he uses his hand to keep your head still.

“Look at me, angel. Let me see you,” he pants out, breath fanning over your face. He keeps rocking, and your toes curl every time his head drags over your clit.

“Bob, please. Give it to me please,” you whine, hands reaching around, nails digging into the muscle of his back. He pushes into you achingly slow, and you feel yourself fluttering as you take every inch he has to give, stomach tightening when he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. You close your eyes and grit your teeth to stop the absolutely pathetic sound you know is gonna escape and Bob ghosts his lips over yours.

“Stop doing that, lemme hear you, beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips. “Lemme hear how I make you feel gorgeous please, I need it.” He’s thrusting into you hard and when you let those first couple of moans escape he crushes his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue into yours, hot and eager and desperate. “That’s better, fuck you listen so well. You’re such a good girl f’me, always baby.”

You’re buzzing beneath him, and you can’t help the tears that run down your face as he continues to press himself into you. He pushes his chest down into you, pinning you beneath his weight, keeping you folded in half. He pulls his lips away from yours, and then his thumbs are wiping your tears so gently it surprises you.

“No need to cry, baby you’re doing so well. It’s okay, angel I’m here.” He’s kissing your cheeks, so tenderly it almost tears your focus away from the way his hips are slamming into yours . “Fuck, honey can you feel that? I’m so deep, you feel so good. You’re so good like this, wanna stay like this forever, don’t wanna go anywhere else.” He stops thrusting to grind his hips into yours, making you twitch against him when he moves over your clit. You’re breathing heavy, not sure what to focus on anymore when he starts up again, the wet sound of your hips slamming together filling up the room. His lips are at your jaw, alternating between short kisses and nipping at the skin there, then he’s moving down your neck, sucking and licking his way down to your chest. He pulls his head up, but he doesn’t look at you. His eyes stay locked on your stomach.

“Oh honey, look at that,” he says, and you do. Every time he thrusts you see his tip poking at your lower stomach, pushing more gasps and moans out of you. “That’s me, baby . Oh my god, you’re so hot taking me like this. I’ll never be able to get enough of this, you feel amazing.”

You feel your walls start fluttering again, and Bob reattaches his lips to your neck.

“That’s it sweet girl,” he puts his forearms on either side of your head, bracing himself as he pushes in harder, “one more for me, just like before okay?”

You just nod, the pressure in your stomach building with each thrust.

“Bob it’s too much,” you choke out, scratching down his back.

“Never too much angel, it’s fine, you’re fine, I promise.”He lifts up, bracing a hand against your headboard, his other hand keeping your knees folded into your chest. “Oh my god, you should see her baby, she’s so greedy for me she wants more. Is that what you need? More? She’s fucking, d-drooling all over me, oh my god you’re so fucking hot like this,” he blabbers, just pounding into you. You’re pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching and somewhere in the kitchen you swear you hear glass shatter. “Please let go for me, you can do it, I know you can.”

You’re shaking your head, trying to take deep breaths but he’s unrelenting. You can hear your bed creaking dangerously, the headboard ramming against the wall.

“Bob, honey, wait—”

“Can’t stop, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry honey. Fuck please I just need another one okay. I know you can,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t know—”

“You can, baby.”

You can feel the pressure building, like a spring being wound tighter and tighter and tighter until suddenly your vision goes blurry and you’re gushing out all over him soaking his thighs, your thighs, your sheets. Somewhere in your brain you register a loud crack! and you just know your headboard’s done for.

“Warn me before you do that,” he practically growls out, staring at the small mess you’ve made. “I can’t handle it, you know it drives me crazy,” he says already repositioning you, getting ready to go again.

You lose track of how many times he manhandles into you different positions, how many times he pulls another orgasm out of you— always with the promise that it’s the last one. Every time you think you’re done and you can’t possibly give him any more he takes it anyways. You’re a sweaty, panting, writhing mess by the time Bob’s thrusts start to get sloppy and erratic and he’s whispering in your ear about how he’s so close this time and it really is the last time and he’s begging you to come with him.

“C’mon sweetheart, you really wanna I can feel it. Cum for me, milk me dry baby I need this.”

You oblige, thighs spasming. He gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before he pushes in all the way, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as your lights blow out and he empties himself inside of you, cock twitching against your walls.

“There we go, oh that feels so good,” he gasps out, collapsing onto you in a sweaty, sticky heap. He brings his hand up to your face, cupping it gently.

“Need to pull out okay? Hold on,” he says as he pulls out, torturously slow. “There we go, good girl. Wait here alright?”

You nod. It’s not like you have much choice. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s been turned to jelly. You can feel Bob leaking out of you, and you think briefly about the fact that you’re probably gonna need a new mattress. You manage to push yourself up to seated and then you look around. Your bed-frame is a goner, and there are dents in your wall from where the headboard slammed into it before Bob destroyed it.

“I’m back,” Bob says. He’s put his sweats back on and he’s got a glass of water— which he hands to you— and a towel. He lowers himself onto the mattress, gently spreading your legs apart so he can use the towel to wipe between them. You sigh in relief as he tidies you up. When he’s done there he looks you up and down taking stock. You’re covered in reddish-purple marks that you don’t even remember him sucking onto you and you see his eyes widen when he reaches the bite mark on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, running his fingers over the bite. Then his hand moves, cradling your head, turning your head this way and that as he feels around the scalp.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I didn’t pull out any hair. Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Mhhmmm, you said that already. I’m fine, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

You nuzzle your cheek into his hand closing your eyes at the warmth.

“I bit you.”

“I know and I liked it. Stop worrying about me.” You put a hand to his forehead. “Huh, It looks like your fever’s gone.”

“Told you, Sentry Serum,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss into your hairline. He pulls you in tight to his chest, kissing your forehead.

“You were so good, made me feel so good. Promise I’ll make it up to you next time,” he mumbles against your forehead.

“You wanna make it up to me?”

“Yeah of course, honey.”

He’s tracing little doodles on your back. You push away from him so you can look him in the eye.

“You can start by replacing my furniture. And changing my lights. And putting my door back on it’s hinges,” you list off. You’re teasing but you see the flush that creeps up his neck.

“Another thing I can use my sweet sweet Avengers money for,” he deadpans.

You laugh, getting ready to stand so you can put your clothes back on when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Stay with me like this,” he says pulling you into his chest. And you do. You cuddle up to him, let him kiss the top of your head and trace circles into your lower back.

You’re not sure how long you’re lying there like that, but the buzzing of your cellphone pulls you out of the moment.

“It’s Yelena,” Bob says, handing you the phone. You let him answer it pushing yourself up. You find the sweater he was wearing earlier and pull it on, basking in Bob’s scent.

“Bob? Where have you been, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you! And why isn’t your girlfriend answering her phone we called like ten times,” Yelena yells when the call connects.

Bob grimaces as he pulls it away from his ear.

“Hello to you too, Yelena,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t near my phone,” you say as you settle in next to Bob.

“Okay well are you guys okay?”

“Tell them to turn on video,” you hear Alexei yell.

“Alexei said turn on your video,” Yelena relays, even though Bob is already doing it. When both of you are in frame, you see Yelena visibly relax.

“See, I told you, Lena you worry for nothing,” Alexei bellows from somewhere in the Tower kitchen.

“He’s okay everyone!” you hear Yelena tell the rest of the team.

“I’m not sure it’s him you need to be worried about,” you hear Bucky say as he takes the phone from Yelena. “Bob do you even know what you got hit with earlier?”

“Evil pollen. But I’m fine now, had a bit of a … of a fever earlier, but it’s broken. I’m okay.”

“Our Golden Guardian strong as bull! No need for babysitting,” Alexei whoops. You suspect he’s a couple of drinks in, and your suspicion is confirmed when he squishes himself into frame, a bright pink looking cocktail with a little umbrella clutched in his hand. You see Bucky’s face twitch, before he turns the phone so he is the only one in frame.

“No, Bob. We read through some of the files. That plant was for… reproductive purposes.” Bucky can’t look at the camera when he says this.

“What do you mean?”

“He means that the pollen is like if Viagra and an aphrodisiac had a baby and pumped it full of steroids. Apparently it was making subjects crazy horny man, like just aching for it the entire time it was in their system. A tablespoonful could take a whole man down apparently and you were covered in it.” Walker this time, a lazy smirk pasted across his face. “How are you not completely laid out right now?” Walker asks, but you suspect he knows the answer.

“I was trying to check on her discreetly,” Bucky grits out through his teeth, turning the camera back to himself.

“Maybe the Sentry Serum just worked it out of my system,” Bob tries to lie.

Bucky just narrows his eyes. “Look I don’t need details. Just tell me we won’t be getting a hospital bill,” he sighs in exasperation.

“No hospital bill,” you confirm. You don’t tell him about the incoming furniture bill.

“That’s all I need to know. Bob, we’ll see you in the morning for the debrief,” and then he hangs up.

“Some pollen huh,” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Please don’t, that’s so embarassing. I got hit by evil sex pollen and everyone knows.”

“Do you think they’ll make you, like, actually debrief… you know… what just happened?”

You’re thinking out loud, but you hear him groan even louder.

“Kill me. Just kill me right now. I’m never going back to work again,” he whines.

He’s cut off by a knock at your door, and both of you get up to go check it out. Your neighbour Anna is on the other side, looking a bit flustered.

“Listen, we think it’s like, soooooo cool that the Sentry is your boyfriend nothing against you guys at all,” she drawls, eyes flicking to where Bob stands behind you, still topless, “it’s just. It would be really cool, if you guys could be just a liiiiiittle more gentle. You knocked some of my picture frames off the wall, and now I gotta replace them—”

“I’ll replace them,” Bob rushes out, “just tell her how much they cost and I’ll replace them we’re so sorry, have a good night.” He almost slams the door in her face.

“I can’t show my face here again,” he pouts. “Your neighbours hate me now!”

You snort. “Please. You give them one good fly around the neighbourhood, they’ll forgive you.”

“I’m serious. And I’m always gentle. It was just today, it’s never gonna happen again!”

“Oh let’s not be so hasty,” you rush out. “Maybe next time, let’s go to yours?”

“Next time? You liked that? You wanna do it again?”

He’s incredulous when you nod shyly, but you don’t miss the way he has to adjust himself.

You would definitely be getting a next time.

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