shortnfreaky

[shortnfreaky]

John Walker X Reader: Softer, Harder

Warnings: smut, doggy style, penetration (p in v), masturbation( John overhears), cursing, dirty talk, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n, semi public sex, mutual pinning, porn with little plot.

Word count: 2,8K

John was fast asleep. Or at least, he had been—until he heard a grunt. His reflexes kicked in instantly, eyes snapping open as his body went into full alert. He sat up in bed, listening in the darkness.

Another groan.

John’s head turned sharply toward the wall beside him. The sound was coming from your room. He got up, already preparing himself to come to your rescue—because why else would you be making those noises?

He stopped at your door just as he heard it.

“John!”

A gasp of his name. No. A moan.

You weren’t hurt.

You were masturbating.

Color rushed to John’s cheeks immediately. Then, silence fell over the room.

John didn’t sleep a wink that night.

You, on the other hand, slept like a baby.

The next day, John kept actively avoiding you. He couldn’t look at your face without remembering the sounds you’d made—or without imagining what you’d sound like with his dick in you.

It was no secret that John had a thing for you. Well, no secret to him. He’d never actually told anyone or acted on his feelings. But he wasn’t dumb enough to think the others hadn’t noticed how his gaze would linger on you during meetings, or how he’d go the extra mile on missions to make sure you were unharmed.

If they had noticed, they didn’t comment on it. And you sure didn’t seem to notice either. John often thought the feelings were one-sided. Until last night, anyway.

He’d lost track of you after breakfast, which made it harder to avoid you. He didn’t know where you were, so he didn’t know where not to go. But he needed to get his mind off you, and what better way to do that than with some training? You weren’t going to be in the training room this early—it just wasn’t your style.

John had been wrong about that. Because as soon as he stepped inside, his eyes locked onto your frame.

You were already drenched in sweat, chest rising rapidly from what John assumed was your workout. Your head snapped toward the door at the sound of it closing. And when your eyes landed on John, you gave him a bright smile.

A blush threatened to creep up his cheeks at the sight. He hoped he could play it off as over-exertion.

“Perfect timing. I was just about to see if anyone wanted to spar.”

John just stared at you for a moment, eyes trailing over your figure.

“John?”

He blinked at the sound, shaking his head to try and clear it.

“You want to spar with me?”

“Yeah?” you said, standing upright and cracking your knuckles. “Unless you’re scared.”

He let out a short laugh. “Of you? Please.”

He shed his jacket, revealing his strong arms. He almost thought he caught you staring, the thought making him smirk to himself. You were already on the center of the mat when he joined you. You both moved into a fighting position and then without any warning you moved. Lightning fast. John barely had time to react but he managed to dodge your jab. But you didn’t let up, you kept moving at him in quick spurts and he kept trying to avoid your attacks. He had to admit, you were good. Better than you let on. And worse, you were smiling like this was just a game.

For you, maybe it was.

For him? It was torture.

Every movement you made drew his attention to another inch of your body. Then your brows furrowed as you struck him, and your mouth fell open to let out a breathless sound when he managed to strike you—and all John could think about were the sounds of your moans last night.

“I’ve been practicing,” you said between steps, weaving around him. “Figured I should learn how to hold my own. Can't have you worry about me.”

The words had caught him slightly off guard. So you had noticed his protection of you. His heart sped up, not just from the exercise.

He grunted in reply, ducking another swing. “You’re doing fine.”

You moved again, but John was quicker this time. He grabbed your wrist, ready to knock you down by messing up your balance. But you shifted your body forward, tugging him down with you. He stumbled, an arm shooting out just as he lost his footing. You both crashed onto the mat with a dull thud.

He was on top of you, arms caging you as you both struggled to breathe. John’s breath caught. Every part of him went still. Hyper-aware. He could feel the heat radiating off you.

“You okay?” you asked, voice low, a little breathless.

He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t move, either.

Because now, he was remembering the way you sounded last night. Remembering how you said his name. How you moaned it.

You blinked at him. “John?”

The concern was clear in your tone. You were worried maybe he’d landed wrong and hurt something. You stared up at him with wide eyes. And before he could stop it a small laugh tugged at the side of his mouth.

“You really have no idea, do you?” he said, voice barely a murmur.

Your brows pulled together, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. Were you really that clueless? Hadn’t you realized just how thin the walls were? Had you not noticed how he’d been avoiding you like the plague all morning?

“I heard you,” he said quietly. “Last night.”

You froze. He felt it—the tension that ran through you like a jolt. He expected you to flush with embarrassment but you merely stared at him, eyes hardening.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

John's eyes widened in amusement. Oh? So this was how you were gonna play it? Okay, two could play that game.

“So if I stick my hand down your pants right now, I won’t find you all wet down there?”

It was filthy. It was beyond anything he’d ever thought he’d say to you. But it had the desired effect. Your mouth opened into a soft gasp as his hand moved from your wrist to your stomach.

Your breath hitched, chest rising faster as his fingers trailed lower, just grazing the waistband of your shorts.

“Yeah,” he said lowly. “That.”

Your body arched subtly beneath him, instinctive and involuntary. Heat shot through your core, pooling fast. He wasn’t even touching you yet. Just teasing and you were already desperate for him. The little shit.

“You were thinking about me,” he said, still hovering over you, his lips so close they almost brushed yours with every word. “You were touching yourself. Saying my name. You wanted me.”

You should’ve looked away. Should’ve denied it.

But you didn’t.

You stayed there under him, breathing heavy, mouth parted. And then you whispered it—

“Still do.”

Oh, what those words did to John. Every fiber of his being vibrated at the confession. His pupils blew wide as he stared down at you. He didn’t wait, he didn’t ask—he just moved, capturing you in a bruising kiss.

One of his hands buried in your hair, tilting your head just right as he kissed you deeper, tongue sliding past your lips, coaxing the softest moan from your throat. Your legs shifted, parting around his hips, letting him settle between them completely.

“You gonna keep pretending, or are you gonna let me give you what you were begging for last night?”

“Please,” you breathed.

John all but growled at the sound, hands moving against your body in desperation. Your skin burned wherever he touched, his fingers leaving invisible marks that had you squirming under him.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he said, voice rough as his hand slid between your thighs. His fingers found you already soaked. “Jesus.”

Your hips jerked. A moan escaped before you could catch it.

“There it is,” he whispered, mouth brushing your cheek. “That’s what I heard.”

And then he pushed two fingers inside you. Your head fell back with a broken gasp.

His fingers moved inside you with practiced precision—slow at first, curling deep, his thumb circling your clit in tight, lazy motions that made your thighs tremble. You moaned into his neck, clinging to his shoulders, every nerve in your body tuned to him.

John’s breath was ragged against your skin, his other hand gripping your waist, holding you open for him. He watched you—how your mouth parted, how your hips chased his fingers—and he looked like he could devour you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, pulling his fingers out with a wet sound that made your face burn. He dragged them up to your lips, hovering just there. “Open.”

You did, breathless.

He pushed his fingers into your mouth and you sucked them in instinctively, eyes locked on his. His jaw clenched.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling them free.

Then he reached down, pulling his sweatpants low enough to free his cock. He was thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight. He moved forward, ready to plunge into you.

“Wait!”

John froze, worry flooding him immediately. Had you changed your mind? Had he gone too far? He looked down at you, brows slightly furrowed.

“You okay?”

You gave him a sweet smile, your hand moving to caress his cheek for a moment before you spoke.

“Everything’s fine, John. I just wanted to change positions.”

John’s brows softened, relief flooding through him as he watched your reassuring smile. His hand trembled slightly as he adjusted, shifting his weight to move more easily. He leaned on his knees as you repositioned yourself, eyes widening as he realized what you were doing. You had your back to him, hands and knees pressed to the mat. You turned your head to look at him, smiling at the sight of his gaping mouth.

“This is the position I was thinking about yesterday. Is that okay with you?”

Was it okay with him? Fuck, of course it was.

John’s breath hitched, his gaze locked on your inviting smile and the curve of your back beneath the dim light. His hands instinctively gripped your hips, steadying himself as he shifted forward, positioning between your thighs.

“That’s more than okay,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside you, inch by inch, savoring the sensation of being so deeply connected. Your soft gasps filled the room, mingling with the steady rhythm of his breath. John’s hands roamed your waist, sliding lower to trace the swell of your hips as he began to move—slow and deliberate at first, building with a growing urgency.

Every thrust sent jolts of heat through your body, the pressure and friction driving you closer to the edge. You arched your back, pressing yourself deeper against him, fingers digging into the mat for support.

“You feel—fuck, you feel perfect.”

“John,” you whispered, voice trembling with need.

He leaned forward, chest pressing against your back.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed against your ear, voice low and rough.

“More,” you whispered.

He was more than happy to oblige. He straightened up, hands moving to get a better grip on your hips before thrusting into you again. You cried out, head moving to lean on the mat beneath you. And that was it—he set a pace that had the room echoing with the sound of skin on skin, your breathy moans, his gritted curses.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, slamming into you harder. “You think I didn’t hear you moaning my name? You think I haven’t thought about this a hundred fucking times?”

He fucked you deep, unrelenting, like he was making up for all the nights he hadn’t touched you, all the thoughts he’d tried to bury. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your stomach, caressing your ass. You let him do what he wanted, panting into the mat with every rough thrust. The sounds he was making behind you were driving you insane. You’d already been so pent up. Already imagined this so many times. But none of it did justice to the real thing. Justice to how good John was at fucking you.

You whimpered, your body arching up into him, chasing every thrust. “John—god, please—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he growled, reaching down, rubbing tight circles over your clit. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

You shattered.

Your mouth opened in a brutal moan, teeth sinking into the mat. John threw his head back, eyes closing as he felt you gush around him. He didn’t stop moving, not even when your body sagged into the mat, arms giving out. John took it as his chance. He leaned over you, hands bracing against your stomach as he dragged your limp body upright. His strong arms held you tight against his chest as he continued to piston into you. His hands cupped your breasts, giving them a squeeze, and you groaned—still sensitive from your orgasm.

Then your walls clenched around him, and John fucking lost it. He came with a groan of your name, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and spilled inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, panting against your shoulder, arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. Your body trembled in his hold, both of you sweaty and breathless, but neither of you moved. There was something sacred in the silence. Something raw.

John pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, slow and reverent, then whispered, “You okay?”

You nodded, a soft hum escaping you. “Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “Fucking fantastic.”

He smiled against your skin and gently helped ease you back onto the mat, careful not to collapse his full weight on top of you. For a moment, he just laid there, eyes closed, forehead resting against your shoulder blade as the aftershocks faded.

You rolled onto your side, and John pulled you into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was still warm, still a little wild behind the eyes, but his touch was gentle now, grounding. You pressed your face into his chest and let yourself just be—in his arms, in this moment, without fear or pretense.

“You know,” he said softly, fingers brushing through your hair, “I was going crazy thinking you didn’t feel the same.”

You looked up at him. “John, I moaned your name.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “I noticed.”

You smacked his chest lightly, laughing. “Idiot.”

He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Your idiot.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. Months of pining after him, and here you were—snuggled into his frame, leaking his cum, and hearing him say that he’s yours. It felt like a perfect ending, really.

The next morning, you woke up tangled in John’s arms, sore in the best way, a little hazy, and very satisfied. He hadn’t let you go all night—just held you like you were something precious. You hadn’t slept that well in months.

Eventually, the smell of coffee and the threat of your rumbling stomach forced the two of you out of bed.

The team was already there, halfway through breakfast. Yelena was grumbling into her mug while Ava scrolled through her phone. Bob was making cereal. And Alexie was nowhere to be seen, which seemed accurate. Everyone looked half-asleep. You grabbed a mug of coffee and some eggs before taking your usual seat. John settled beside you. It was peaceful, which was unusual considering your team of misfits.

And then Bucky stumbled into the kitchen looking absolutely pissed.

“Okay, who was biting into the fucking mat in the training room?”

Your fork paused halfway to your mouth. You could feel John freeze next to you.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said. “That shit’s not cheap.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “Is someone into, like... feral combat now? What kind of sparring session leads to that?”

“Also,” Ava added, not even looking up from his phone, “pretty sure that’s not very hygienic.”

You slowly turned your head to glance at John. He looked deeply invested in his toast. Your face burned as you tried not to laugh.

You coughed into your napkin, eyes wide and innocent. “Weird. Wonder who’d do something like that.”

“Mmhmm,” Yelena said, giving you a look. “Probably someone very… enthusiastic.”

“Super committed to the training,” Ava added, finally glancing up with a smirk.

John cleared his throat, his ears bright red. “You know what? I’ll order a replacement.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Bucky said, tossing the ruined mat chunk onto the counter. “But seriously—next time, leave the mats out of your sex life.”

You choked on your coffee.

Yelena grinned. “So it was you two.”

John just sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face as the rest of the table broke into laughter.

And despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t stop smiling. Because yeah—maybe the mat was ruined, maybe your secret was out—but John was sitting beside you, close and warm and yours.

Honestly? Worth it.

[shortnfreaky]

⟡Good Morning⟡

(Bob Reynolds x f!Reader)

Summary: There is never a peaceful morning in the Watchtower, especially not after you and Bob finally get together. (Mini-sequel to Risk and Baby, I'm Yours, requested by @my-name-is-baby)

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, fluff, kissing, talk of sex, team finding out, swearing, wearing Bob's clothes, suggestive ending

a/n: As per the poll i have adapted the fic formerly known as B-O-B so they callin you BOB into this, combined with a request I received. I just really love writing the other Thunderbolts in these fics and this one brought me great joy :)

Bob wakes up to the sound of a knock on his door.

He blinks his eyes open, his brain catching up with what’s happening around him. His arm around you, fast asleep on his chest. He smiles softly as he recalls the events of last night, and at the sight of you in a deep sleep, hand laid over his heart. He brushes the hair from your face, taking a good look at you, before another knock sounds through the room.

“Bob?” Walker’s voice echoes from the door, followed by yet another knock. “Hey, man, you up?”

Bob’s eyes flick between the door and you, trying to decide what to do. In the past he’s thought of himself as quick on his feet, but right now his brain feels like lovestruck mush. 

The last thing he wants to do is wake you up and disturb your peace. But maybe you don’t Walker to come in and see you in his bed. Maybe you want this to be secret. But if he hides you, you might think he’s ashamed of you.

You’re stirring slightly, eyes fluttering open, squinting as you peer up at him, then the door. “The hell?”

“Walker.” he whispers. Your eyes widen just a bit, clearly also thinking about what to do. “Uh, I don’t mind him knowing, if you don’t-”

“I don’t!” you clarify, sitting up while pulling the sheets to cover yourself. “I just-” you gesture to your naked torso, to which Bob makes an ‘oh’ sound.

“ONE MINUTE!” He yells to the door before jumping up, scrambling to his dresser, still fully naked. He tosses you a shirt and your underwear from the floor, before haphazardly pulling on a pair of boxers.

“You okay in there?” Walker yells.

“Fine!” Bob calls back, gathering up your lost clothes from the night before, tossing them into the bathroom. “Everything is great!”

“Is someone holding you hostage-” John is interrupted by Bob practically yanking the door off its hinges, settling into what he thinks is a natural pose, leaning on the door with one hand on his hip, legs crossed. It takes significant effort not to laugh at him.

“What’s up?” he says in a voice that is trying way too hard to be casual.

“Hey, I was just going for a run, thought you’d like to-” he stops, eyes landing on you, seated on the bed with Bob’s old t-shirt hanging on your body.

It takes Walker a second to process, mouth wide open like a fish, looking from you, to Bob, back to you. “You asshole!” he yells through a laugh, shoving Bob playfully from his pose. “Look at you, you fuckin’ did it!”

Bob chuckles awkwardly, face red with embarrassment as he nods. “Eh, she kinda did most of the work.” he admits, a grin on his face. “I did kiss her first, though.”

Walker slaps his back. “That’s my boy!”

“You knew he liked me?” you call from your spot the bed.

“Oh yeah, it was obvious.” Walker says, Bob turning to face the ground. “Honestly, it's astonishing how you didn’t notice he liked you.”

You throw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face as it knocks him slightly backwards. “I am not that oblivious.” you turn to Bob, who has a pensive look on his face. “Right?”

“I mean…” you hold up another pillow, shutting him up as he raises his hands in surrender.

John throws an arm around Bob, shaking him slightly. “I really am happy for you two, y’know. The whole time, I told him, she clearly likes you, but he didn’t listen, but guess who was right.” he points to his own face.

“Alright, alright, go for your run now, asshole.” Bob shoves him off, still smiling. “And don’t tell anyone yet, alright?” he points at him, now with a serious expression.

John raises his hands as he walks out backwards. “I won’t, I won’t. I’m a great secretkeeper.” he flashes you a mischievous smile, as he walks off into the hall. Bob sighs, shutting the door behind him before flopping back onto the bed. 

“Oh my god,” he murmurs into the blanket, one hand crawling over to rest on your thigh. You just cuckle, running your hands through his brown locks.

“Hey, could be worse, huh? Alexei could’ve stormed in here before we had any clothes on.” that gets a laugh out of him, raising his head and settling it in your lap. 

“Yeah, fair point.” he turns to look up at you, a small smile on his face. “I just, still can’t believe this is real, and now Walker knows.”

You shrug. “Well, it seems like he already had an inkling.”

“Yeah, he was behind a lot of my poorer attempts at flirting.” Bob’s hand runs along the smooth skin of your leg, tracing aimless circles into it.

“Wingman Walker. Never thought I’d see the day someone went to him for love advice.”

“Hey, I was desperate,” he says, sitting up. “I didn’t want to screw this up.”

You smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Well, you didn’t. And you’re not gonna.” you reassure him, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you closer. He kisses you again, this one deeper, more passionate. Your hands tangle in his hair, smiling against his lips. You’re too caught up in each other to hear the telltale sound of Ava's phasing.

“Bob, Walker told us to check- OH MY GOD!” she spins around while simultaneously covering her eyes.

Not five seconds later, the door opens again. “Ava? Are you- oh!” Yelena makes a surprised expression, giving an awkward wave. “Oh, finally. Took you long enough.”

“Thanks, Lena.” Bob gives an awkward grin. “Ava, you can turn around.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky’s voice echoes from the hallway.

“Hi Bucky!” you call as he steps into the doorframe, Alpine perched on his shoulder. His eyes widen a bit, before a smile forms.

“Finally,” he scoffs.

“That’s what I said!” Yelena agrees.

Bucky grins at the blonde before turning back to you and Bob. “I told you he liked you.” he gestured between the two of you. Bob turns to you with a confused expression.

“Okay, maybe I am a little oblivious.” you admit.

“‘S okay, I like you anyways.” he presses a kiss into the top of your head, prompting a joking ‘eww’ from Yelena.

“Okay, I’ll see you two later when you’re fully clothed.” Ava walks away, phasing through the wall in favor of walking through the door. Bucky and Yelena chuckle, following after her. 

You sigh, turning back to Bob. “Hey, well, now they all know.”

“Yeah, I think we were the only stupid ones.” he chuckles, one hand cupping your cheek. “And maybe Alexei.”

As if he’d summoned him, Bob’s theory is confirmed by a loud, distinctly Russian voice yelling “WHAT?” from down the hall. You both giggle as Alexei kicks the door open, Yelena peeking out from behind him. “You two? Together?” he frantically points between you, an expression of genuine shock on his face.

“Uh, yeah.” Bob confirms.

His shock changes to pride as he approaches you, taking you both into a bear hug. “I am so, so proud of you too. I had no idea this was happening, but now I see. True love!” he announces.

“Alexei, I can’t breathe.” you choke out, the large man letting you go before giving Bob another smack on the back.

“Good man, Bob. Take good care of her, alright?” he tells him, Bob nodding desperately as he prays for him to leave. “You know, if we had Sentry, you could protect her much eas-”

“Dad!” Yelena yells from the hall, clearly embarrassed. He waves her off, giving you both one last grin.

“Okay, I leave now. You two, have fun, be safe!” he shakes Bob’s shoulders, before walking off, Yelena closing the door behind him with a smirk.

“Well, at least they’re supportive.” you joke, Bob laughing with you before pulling you into another kiss. 

“You look so good in my clothes.” he mutters against your lips.

“Are you gonna follow that up with ‘but you’d look better without them?’” you do a poor imitation of Bob’s deeper voice.

He shrugs, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I can still eat you out with it on.” he whispers, before knocking you back onto the bed with another kiss, the two of you laughing on the way down.

[shortnfreaky]

ROBERT 'BOB' REYNOLDS THUNDERBOLTS (2025)

[shortnfreaky]

need some bob requests, because i am smitten for him rn

request here

[shortnfreaky]

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.”

[shortnfreaky]

Final Desperation

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: Every time you and Bob try to fuck, you get interrupted. So this is your next attempt out of desperation.

Warning: smut - dry humping, car sex, semi-public

Marvel Masterlist

It started off as just cuddling. You’re spooning Bob from behind while he reads a book. Your hand tracing shapes along the bit of skin that’s been exposed due to his shirt riding up.

Your fingers get closer to the hem of his boxers right above his crotch. You toy with the elastic and Bob breaks the silence, “Honey?”

“Hm?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” you respond innocently, but Bob knows better.

He places the bookmark in-between the pages and sets the book on his nightstand. He rolls over and holds his body over yours, “You’re teasing.”

“Am I?” You ask with a smirk.

Bob leans in and presses his lips to yours. You open your legs and Bob immediately settles in-between them. He grinds down against you and you already feel how hard he is.

You run your hands down his toned body and to his boxers. As you’re ready to push them down, there’s a banging at the door.

“DINNERTIME, LOVEBIRDS!” Alexei hollers from the other side.

Bob groans in frustration, rolling off you. He falls back onto the bed, his brown curls falling around his face.

You sigh, “We don’t have to go.”

Bob scoffs, “You don’t know Alexei. Family dinners are important to him.” He then rolls out of bed and grabbing sweats and a t-shirt. He dresses up and you fix your appearance a little.

You two proceed to exit Bob’s room and head to the kitchen to have dinner with everyone.

________________________

“Fuuuuuck,” Bob groans. You continue to rut against him in desperation.

For the past week and a half, you and Bob have still yet to fuck. Since that first night, whenever you and he got close to having sex, someone or something would get in the way.

So you and Bob have been wound up tight and this is where it takes you: making out and dry jumping against one another in your car in a dark parking lot.

“Robby,” you whine Bob’s name as you grind your hips down into his lap.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs and pulls you in for another kiss.

You pull away, breathless, “Back seat. Now.”

He smirks and murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.”

You climb off him and get into the back, him following you. You’re pulling off his clothes and he’s pulling off yours. The windows are starting to fog up as you press your naked bonfires against one another.

“Waited to fucking long for this,” you mumble as you take Bob’s length into your hand and guide him inside you.

You both moan in relief as he fills you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s snapping his hips into you.

The need and desperation is intense. You feel it in the way Bob thrusts into you. He feels it in the way your nails dig into his skin, anchoring yourself to him like your life depended on it.

“So good. Feel so fucking good,” Bob grunts, his hold on your hips tightening.

You reach out, grab the hair at the nape of Bob’s neck and tug him towards you. You see his eyes shine gold for a moment and you smirk, “Oh, he liked that didn’t he?”

“Don’t bring him into this,” he grits, “Lemme be selfish. Please.”

You nod, “I’m yours, Robby. First and foremost, I’m yours.” You seal the promise with a heated kiss and Bob continues to fuck you.

Your car isn’t big but it’s enough to fit the both of you in the back and that’s all that matters to you. Will your bodies be sore tomorrow? Probably, but you didn’t care when Bob is fucking you so deep and good.

“Shit, I’m close.”

“Right behind you, baby.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” Bob spills into you while he thrusts and as you feel him, your own climax follows.

You cry out his name, which is swallowed by his lips on yours. When you both still, the only thing that fills the air is the warmth of your bodies and the panting from both of you.

You can’t help but giggle, “Can’t believe this what we’ve resorted to.”

Bob chuckles with you, “Yeah. Maybe we should’ve gone to a hotel instead.” He helps you sit up and you wince.

“Oh yeah. Definitely gonna regret this tomorrow.”

Bob snorts and proceeds to help you dress and you him afterwards.

Once both of you are dressed, you step out of the car for some fresh air, only to freeze when you see Yelena and John standing there, looking uncomfortable.

“Um…hi?” You say.

John, looking like he wants to be anywhere but there, speaks up, “Val told us to follow you because you didn’t say where you were going. Wanted to make sure you two weren’t getting into trouble.”

“Oh they we’re getting into something, alright,” Yelena says with a snort. She pats John’s shoulder, “Come on. They’re fine.” She then looks at you and Bob, “Don’t stay out too long, lovebirds!” The two climb back into the car they arrived in and sped away instantly.

Bob looks at you with red cheeks, “That was-“

“Awkward.”

“So awkward.”

“They won’t tell the rest of the team right?”

“God, I hope they don’t.”

__________________________

“-and you two-“ Val points at you and Bob, “I better not find out you two went off to go at it like rabbits in an abandoned parking lot again! At least go to a hotel so you don’t risk another PR nightmare!”

You shrink in your chair and Bob hides his face in his hands as the rest of the team snicker and chuckle.

[shortnfreaky]

𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑬𝒍𝒔𝒆 | 𝑹.𝑹

𝒂/𝒏: 𝑎 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒. 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑. | 𝒘𝒄: 1.2𝑘

“Come on, golden boy.” You tugged on his arm gently, lifting him off the cold tower floor and guiding him through the threshold of your bedroom. You woke up to get water, only to find Bob curled up at the end of the hall, conveniently a few feet from your bedroom door.

Bob looked up at you with those deep blue eyes, haunted with burdens too heavy for anyone to carry. He tried to straighten up, but the slouch never quite left his shoulders. Not anymore.

He was surprisingly compliant, letting you gently guide him into the room without protest. When you encouraged him onto the bed, he landed with a creak of hinges, his head tilting as he watched you shuffle between his knees. You slowly pulled his oversized sweater off, his dirty curls falling in messy directions as the fabric was lifted over him.

The clock read two in the morning, the city lights barely making any sort of illumination through your thick drawn curtains. Your room was naturally very dark, something he took both comfort and unease from.

You sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, studying his face in the dull moonlight. His gaze tracked your every move, following the lines of your bare legs beneath your pajama shorts. He was close enough that you could smell him, a mix of sweat and pine and ozone, like a storm rolling over fresh forest soil.

For a few heartbeats, neither of you spoke, just taking each other in.

Then, Bob broke the silence.

"You should be asleep," He murmured, his voice a low, gentle rumble in the darkness.

“So should you.” You replied softly, hearing how rough his throat sounded. The aftermath of the Void’s debut, the world had mixed thoughts and views on Bob himself, and even the team had their own wary thoughts. They claimed they didn’t, but you knew otherwise.

Many see him as a weapon. Only a weapon. Not a man.

Or some see him as a god. Only a god. Not a man.

Never a man. 

Never allowed the dignity of being just human.

He stood at your guidance, letting out a sigh that sounded like surrender as you peeled the clothes off his lean, muscular frame. Under the baggy exterior most of his clothes provided, he was all sharp angles and taut lines. "Can't," he spoke the word low and rueful. "I just... can't."

“Me neither.” You cooed and pulled him to lay back on the bed now that he was down to his boxers and thick socks he insisted on keeping on his feet when he slept.

He collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy exhale, the weight of his exhaustion finally settling over him. You could see the shadows under his eyes, the slight tremble in his limbs. He needed sleep as badly but he refused to let himself get any rest, a poor habit he developed recently, too afraid to see the void behind his eyes.

As you climbed in beside him, he rolled onto his side to face you, his fingers finding the hem of your nightshirt and gripping it lightly for reassurance, afraid you might disappear if he let go. The small touch made you react instantly, pulling him into your chest and practically cradling him against your body in a firm but gentle hold. Your hand moved up to those curls immediately, slowly feeling them wrap around your fingers as you combed through his messy hair and scratched the back of his scalp.

Bob pressed closer, burying his face against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. For a man built like a marble statue, he held onto you like a drowning man gasping for salvation. His body was trembling, you realized. Not the subtle, barely perceptible shaking from before, but full-blown tremors that worked their way all the way down his spine.

“What’s the matter?” You asked gently, trying to soothe and comfort him, or provide some kind of safety. You knew he struggled far more than he let on, like the power he held was too much for his body to contain. It must be overwhelming, especially for someone who struggled with sensory issues. He couldn’t quite describe how his power felt, like dull static always rushing through his veins, isolated in his bones, no amount of scratching or rubbing dulled that odd sensation.

He didn't answer right away. His fingers dug into the material of your shirt, bunching the fabric as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. His shoulders hitched with a strangled breath, and you could feel the muscles in his back clenching under your touch. When he spoke, his voice was thick with something you couldn't quite identify — guilt, anger, despair, or all three.

"I can't turn it off," he admitted hoarsely. "The Void. It's always there. Waiting."

“I know,” You whispered against his temple, your lips brushing his overly warm skin. “But you know what? You’re not alone. And when I hold you like this? I’m holding you both. So he can’t mock you anymore.” You knew your words might not have the desired effect you hoped for, but it was better to try than to not. 

His body shuddered against yours, and you realized he was crying. Not loudly, not with sobs, but you could feel the hot dampness on your skin where his face was pressed.

He'd never let himself crumble like this before. Not in front of you, not in front of anyone since the shame rooms. 

It was...vulnerable. Terrifying. Raw.

"I'm losing my mind," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't keep it together anymore, I just—"

He cut himself off, teeth gritting together.

You felt his body growing uncharacteristically cold beneath your skin, a piercing chill that emanated from somewhere deep within his core, spreading outward like frost across a windowpane in winter. The room around you gradually darkened further than what it was, as if the sliver of light that existed was being consumed by his presence. 

His body began to change before your eyes, shadowy edges seeping and bleeding like dark ink spilling across the sheets until his entire form was completely consumed by the darkness. Though he had adopted the shape and silhouette of a man - the familiar contours and proportions that you recognized as his - there remained nothing remotely human about the entity before you. Darkness coiled and writhed around his limbs, forming a living shroud that moved and breathed with a consciousness of its own, like some ancient, primordial creature born from the void between stars.

The Void was exactly what he was.

His hand that had been somewhat limp around your back suddenly gripped your top in a fist. 

When you gathered the courage to look directly at him, you could discern nothing but a pitch-black silhouette where Bob had been, his features completely obscured as shadows danced and swirled around his form like thick, sentient smoke. He maintained his position pressed tightly against you, refusing to let you go.

His face remained buried. He didn’t speak.

And you didn’t let go.

The Void needed to understand. He needed to feel it too. 

He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

And, he wasn’t. He had you.

𝑖’𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑏 𝑠𝑜 𝑖 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙. 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒, 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡.

𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑒, 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.

[shortnfreaky]

Thinking about having sex with Bob for the first time.

You’ve been together for a while, plenty of makeout sessions and light over the belt touching. But, you hadn’t actually gone there quite yet.

One night Bob comes to your apartment to watch a movie and about twenty minutes in you’re already halfway seated into his lap, playing with his hair while he traces patterns into your hip. It only takes a couple more minutes for him to have his head tilted back with his eyes fluttering shut as you kiss his neck. You smile against his throat every time he whimpers and the way your nails scrape over his scalp as your fingers run through his hair is enough to get him hard.

You feel it almost immediately since you’re in his lap, a slight tent beginning to form in his pants, pushing against your thigh. It wasn’t the first time you’d gotten him riled up. All the previous times he’d mumble an embarrassed apology before moving away to put space between the two of you. And it looked like this time wasn’t going to be any different.

“Sorry.” He said with a shaky sigh. He began to shift away when you cupped his cheeks in your hands. You turned his face to look at you and spoke softly.

“We don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.” His eyes widened and you felt him tense under you. You would’ve been worried that you’d taken things a step too far if you didn’t also feel his cock twitch in his pants. “Do you wanna keep going, Bob?” You asked, feeling a bit more bold. He didn’t trust himself to answer without sounding absolutely pathetic, so he just nodded.

Now you’re in bed with Bob above you, thrusting in and out of you like he’ll die if he stops.

You honestly hadn’t expected for him to be so desperate. Things had started how you’d expected, slow and a bit nervous. He’d kissed you with his hands in his lap and you literally had to give him permission to touch you. But, once he was inside of you it was like a switch flipped. Now he was whimpering and moaning into your ear, his face buried into the crook of your neck while his arms were wrapped around your body, holding you as close as possible.

He mumbled a “Feels so good….” Into your neck for what had to be the twentieth time, arms tightening around you like he was trying to bring you impossibly closer to him.

Meanwhile, you’re laying beneath him, one hand tangled into his hair while the other is laid on his bare back. You hadn’t expected Bob to be so ripped, but apparently he was full of surprises.

Bob eventually lifted his face from your neck enough to press his mouth to yours in a messy, desperate kiss. He was moaning into your mouth while you were struggling to keep your jaw from going slack. He was the one to break the kiss, pulling away as an almost guttural moan fell from his lips. His eyes fell shut and his mouth fell open in a sort of “O” shape and you swore he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen. He went to bury his face into your neck again, but you managed to stop him with a gentle tug on his hair (which elicited a shaky whimper).

“Wanna see you—“ You manage to say through your own sounds of pleasure.

And he obliged, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you (although, he couldn’t help it when his eyes would occasionally flutter shut). The eye contact seemingly does something for him because he begins to rock into you faster, holding you tighter, moaning louder. Through the midst of his pleasure he manages to speak.

“T-tell me you love me.” He begs. “Please, please, please, say I’m doing good, need it, oh god-“

And who are you to deny him when he’s asking so nicely? When you do say all the things he’s asked you to, he’s almost immediately done for. His eyes screw shut, head tilting back as a series of moans fall freely from his open mouth. He just barely manages to pull out before he’s cumming onto your stomach and chest.

The both of you pant, trying to catch your breaths and eventually his head falls to your chest.

“…. M’sorry.” He mumbles against your skin.

“For what?” You ask.

“Didn’t make you finish.” He lifts his head enough to look up at you with a pout.

You manage to smile down at him. “It’s alright.” You say. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to.” He interrupts, shifting so that his face is just a bit closer to yours. “Let me. Please, let me.” He begins to kiss your neck and you shiver. “Please,” He repeats. “I wanna taste you.”

A/n: I had to stop myself from making this way longer. Honestly, I planned for it to be shorter, but then the freak took control of me. Anyways, I love Bob. Send in requests for him if you’d like ❤️❤️

[shortnfreaky]

Something something, John realizes that you find the country accent charming and starts to use it around you more just to see you get flustered

in contrast to

it actually slips out while by accident when you're doing the dirty and then also when he's groggy in the morning.

like one is more performative and stereotypical and then the other one is a little more husky and genuine.

also I love your writing so much, thank youuuu!!

you mention offhand that it’s kinda hot — maybe say it once, real casual like, just teasing — and he immediately tucks that shit away like a weapon. now all of a sudden he’s calling you darlin’ in the middle of the goddamn grocery store, leaning in with that smug little tilt to his mouth, sayng shit like “need me to carry that for ya, sugar?” and he knows it gets you flustered. he knows.

and it’s so performative. exaggerated just enough to be ridiculous, like a wink and a nudge in vocal form. you roll your eyes but he sees the way your thighs press together after, and he files it away like it’s intel.

but then — then there’s the other one.

the real one.

the one that slips out when he’s too far gone to be thinking about what he sounds like.when he’s got you face down, ass up, one hand gripping your hip and the other yanking your hair back just enough to arch your spine — not mean, not quite, but firm. rough enough that you feel it all the way down.

and his voice is low, gravel-thick, real lazy-like, like it just dripped out of him.

"‘atta girl. knew you’d take it for me. yeah, just like that, keep them pretty lil’ legs open—"

you practically melt at the sound of it. you’re not even sure he notices he’s doing it — panting into your shoulder, hips rolling hard and steady, sweat dripping down his chest onto your back. his hand slides up your spine, palm so big it covers half your damn ribcage, and he grinds into you, slow and deep, until you’re all but sobbing under him.

"lookit you... fuckin’ made for me, huh?"

and it’s not a performance this time. it’s not some wink-and-a-smirk bit to rile you up. it’s him, real and raw and split wide open, drawl slipping out unfiltered from somewhere in his chest, because he's that far gone.

and god forbid you catch him the next morning, groggy and shirtless in the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his hair and muttering under his breath with that same accent, just low and scratchy and barely awake — “mmornin’, baby... s’coffee made yet?” — like he didn’t rearrange your guts seven hours ago.

[shortnfreaky]

⟡Baby, I'm Yours⟡

(Bob Reynolds x Reader)

Summary: You have sex with Bob for the first time. (sequel to Risk but can be read standalone)

Word Count: 4K

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, SMUT, "what are we gonna do ride Bob" 😏, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, p in v, missionary, cowgirl, multiple rounds (super stamina woohoo!) unproteted sex (wrap it up kids), Bob Reynolds has a big dick fight me on this, references to masturbation and wet dreams, aftercare, Bob's eyes glow when he cums (I warned you all)

a/n: So I finished writing this and then made this silly little textpost and uh. people liked it a lot so i'm proud to present you the basis for it. Just wanna say from the bottom of my heart Bob Reynolds is a little shit from Florida and yes he IS mostly submissive and he DOES whimper during sex but he is NOT an innocent baby boy and he CAN and DOES fuck. Okay rant done enjoy the sex.

You spend the next few minutes wrapped up in each other’s arms in the dim lamplight, kissing and giggling and just being together. It’s intimate, a kind of safety Bob hasn’t felt maybe ever. It's exhilarating, like something out of a dream. You’re really here, kissing him, touching him, wanting him. The thought just plays over and over in his mind. He’s so preoccupied by you, he’s barely aware of the growing hardness in his pants. Which you quickly become aware of.

You pull away mid-kiss, and Bob furrows his brow, worried he did something wrong. Even in the darkness, he can see the confusion on your face. “Um, Bob…” you trail off, not sure how to point it out. Then it hits him.

“Oh!” he scrambles back, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap. “I am so sorry, that, I did not mean to do that, I-”

“Bob.” you chuckle, a reassuring smile on your face. “It’s okay. I was just…surprised.” Bob laughs nervously in response, still clutching the pillow. 

“Do you want to?” Bob tilts his head at your question.

“Want, want to what?”

“Have sex, Bob.” you say, flat out. You’re never one to beat around the bush, you get straight to the point. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

Still, his brain needs a moment to catch up to what’s happening around him. “Oh, um, do you? Want to?”

You nod. “We don’t have to, I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into-”

“I do!” he exclaims. “Want to. Have sex with you. Now. If you want to.”

You just smile, crawling over to his side of the bed. You unclasp his fingers from the pillow, taking its place in his lap. On instinct he wraps his arms around your waist, resting them just barely on the small of your back. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to touch you, or should be. You kiss his jaw, gentle and soft, testing the waters. Bob’s breath catches as you do so, and you continue, trailing down his jawline to his neck, pausing at the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, where you begin sucking a bruise into the skin.

Bob releases a broken moan, his hands gripping onto your hips. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and get a sense of just how big he is. The Sentry Project changed a lot about him, you know that. It’d crossed your mind that it might have affected him down there, but it still surprises you just a bit. Or maybe he’d always been like this. He’s just as incredible to you, powers or not.

Satisfied with yourself, you pull away from Bob’s neck, grinning at the darkening bruise forming there. He moves a hand from you to touch it, as if he’s making sure it’s real. You take his hand in yours, placing it on your face. 

He looks up at you with a hungry gaze, before moving in to devour you once again. Robert Reynolds kisses like a man starved, gorging himself on your affection for fear it’ll vanish once more. You hold him tight, kiss him back as hard as you can. A reassurance, a promise that you’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever if you had it your way.

“Take your clothes off,” you pant out between kisses. It’s not meant to be an order, but Bob certainly takes it as one, immediately rushing to pull off his baggy sweatshirt, followed quickly by his t-shirt underneath. Bob is the last guy anyone would expect to be jacked, but here he is.

You run a hand along the line of his abs, Bob shivering under your touch. “You’re beautiful, y’know?” you whisper, kissing his cheek as you squeeze his shoulder. He chuckles, nervously muttering something under his breath. “You are.” you insist, pulling back to face him. “Not because of your body, but because you’re you, okay?”

He nods, gazing up at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for him. You’re not sure how to respond to his look of absolute adoration except to once again kiss him senseless. 

He starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, a request. You’re still in your tactical gear, crumpled and dirty from your mission. You pull back, getting to work on removing your various holsters and hidden knives, Bob assisting you to the best of his ability.

“You have so many knives.” he points out, adding number five to the pile that’s begun forming next to where the two of you sit.

“You never know.” you quip as you find your last one, moving the pile over to Bob’s nightstand as he starts yanking your shirt up.

“Only fair.” he points out with a smirk. You raise your arms over your head, allowing him to tug off your suit, leaving just your bra covering your top. You reach behind yourself to unclip it, only for Bob to swat your hand away. “I got it.” he insists, taking only a moment as he unfastens it, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He takes a second to take in the view, his mouth hangs open in the shape of a smile, not sure whether to gape or cheer. He quickly puts his mouth to better use, kissing a trail down your collarbone to your breasts, one hand on each pressing them together as he lavishes them.

“Can I eat you out?” Bob’s voice interrupts the silence, peering up at you from between your breasts. “I-I’m not that great, but I want to try. Please.”

You nod, rolling off of him and laying on your back while Bob settles himself between your legs, busying himself with tugging your pants off. “Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” he snaps out of his focus at the sound of your voice. “Oh, yeah, I just, never really got to do it properly, y’know? Take my time.” He tosses your pants away, fingers hooking under your underwear before pausing. “Do you still want to?”

“Bob, I want you between my legs five minutes ago.” he grins and yanks off your underwear, not even tearing his eyes away from your pussy. Even hidden beneath his shaggy brown hair you can see his dark blue eyes are blown out with lust, lingering carnal desire evident on his face.

Bob doesn’t bother with words. He just goes to work, gripping your thighs in his large hands and licking a stripe up your cunt as you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lap at you. It’s messy, imprecise, but god it feels so good. He’s learning, noticing what gets the most reaction and keeping it up. He sees how your breath catches when he just barely flicks his tongue against your clit, filing it away for later. 

“Fuck, Bob, baby…” you pant, gripping his hair like a lifeline. “Not great my ass, you liar…”

Bob interrupts your jokes by sucking on your clit, earning another sudden moan from you before he stops suddenly, perking his head up. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Hell yeah.” you manage to breathe out. He nods and lowers his head back down, this time moving his hand from where it digs into your thigh to swipe through the wetness of your folds. He coats his index finger in your arousal, looking straight in your eyes as he licks it off. 

“You taste so good.” you mumbles as he slowly inserts his finger into you, a choked out moan escaping your throat. Bob’s a big guy, and more than once you’ve imagined those massive hands of his fingering you. Reality is ten times better than any fantasy.

He starts slowly, putting what he's learned into practice and continuing to alternate licking and sucking at your clit while he presses his finger in and out of you. You jerk against his grip, back arching as he hits that perfect spot within you. His grip on your thigh just tightens, and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “I got you.” he mutters, adding another finger and speeding up his pace, making sure to hit the spot that seems to make you go wild. It works, judging from the strings of expletives and moans that continue to escape you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as you writhe under Bob’s touch, every move sending licks of fire through your body. “Bob, Bob, ‘m so close, baby, please…”

Bob cuts you off with a moan between your legs, the vibrations reverberating through you, pushing you closer to your high. His eyes shut in pleasure as he devours you, the sound of you moaning out his name better than any high he’s ever felt.

“‘So close, Bob, please…” 

He takes it as a sign, sucks on your clit even harder, opening his eyes so he can watch you fall apart under him. And you do, crying out his name, one hand with a death grip on his hair and the other gripping the pillows so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t exploded into feathers. 

He keeps it up through your orgasm, slowing down the pace of his fingers and switching from sucking to gentle licks on your clit as you come down. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bob,” you pant, gazing down at the man between your legs.

“Did I do good?” he asks, his voice earnest and hopeful. It’s quite the contrast, the feeling of ecstasy still buzzing in the bones, the sight of your slick all over his chin, compared to the genuine worried look in his eyes as he asks the question.

“Yes, Bob, that was good.” you half-laugh. “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in a long time.”

He grins, satisfied with his work. “Nice.” he crawls up your body, gingerly pressing a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him, the flavor driving you even crazier, making you more desperate for him. You lightly tug on his lower lip, earning a deep groan from Bob.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” he mumbles, the kiss becoming a collision of lips and teeth, the two of you stick with saliva and arousal. “You’re so perfect, and you want me.”

“Want you so bad, Bob.” you mutter into his mouth between kisses. “Want your cock, please.”

He moans, pulling away to look at your face, eyes dark with lust, lips kiss-swollen and wet, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Say it again.”

“God, need your pretty cock inside of me, Bob, baby, please-” he’s smashing his lips against yours again, one hand working on tugging his sweatpants off. He sits up, you joining in assisting him. He pulls his boxers down with them as he finally rids himself of the wretched garments, his cock laying hard and leaking against his perfect abs. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, long and girthy, veins running along it. A small part of you worries about walking tomorrow, but the part of your brain that is so goddamn horny overrules it.

“I got a condom somewhere, I think.” he’s saying, although you barely register it as you stare at his length.

“You’re good!” you snap out of it, Bob turning back to you. “I’m all clean, IUD, you’re good.” you clear your throat, a bit awkwardly, “I’m not planning on being with anyone else, so…”

“Oh my god,” Bob grins, settling himself back on the bed before pulling you into his lap, “I’m clean too, and I don’t want anyone but you. You’re perfect.” he presses a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle as you recall something. “Remember how John was saying we should ride you into the sky?”

Bob looks confused, but nods. You lean in, whispering in his ear. “This is what I was imagining.”

His hands grip your hips, a stuttered breath escaping against your shoulder. He can barely get the words, “oh yeah?” out.

“Yeah.” you whisper, nipping at his neck, before pressing a kiss to it.

He’s hot against your aching cunt as you raise your hips, aligning yourself with his hardened cock. The pre-cum leaking from his tip mixing with the abundance of arousal dripping between your thighs. “Y-you ready? I know it’s kinda a lot, I mean, it always was, and then Sentry, well-”

“Bob, you’re perfect.” you look him right in the eyes, giving him a kind smile, as if he’s not about to fuck you raw. “I want you. All of you.”

He nods, clearly psyching himself up. He’s had flings before, and he knows he’s a lot to take. The Sentry Project enhanced all of him, and he’s doing his best not to hurt you. “Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?” You nod, and with a sharp inhale you begin to lower yourself, the head of his cock breaching your entrance. You gasp, and he pauses, making sure you’re okay. You just nod fervently, unable to form sentences at the feel of him stretching you out. It’s a little painful, which you expected, but the pleasure far outweighs the fact that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You continue, brow furrowed in concentration, whimpers escaping Bob beneath you at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing around him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, hooooly shit,” he groans as he shuts his eyes in pleasure, doing his best not to cum when he’s only halfway in you, “you’re so fucking tight, oooh my god, are you okay?” 

You nod, nails digging into his shoulders as you pause, trying to adjust to the feel of him in you. Even only halfway, the stretch is more than you’ve ever had before, and it feels fucking incredible. You start to understand the meaning of being cockdrunk for the first time. 

With a final groan, you settle on Bob’s lap, his cock sheathed in you completely, panting at the feel of you around him. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, head hanging in the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only sound is your intertwined breaths, your bodies hot and slick with sweat against one another as you sit there.

You roll your hips experimentally, a small moan escaping at the sensation. Bob’s head rolls back against the headboard, his grip on you even tighter than before. You’re gonna have bruises of his handprint for days.

You start slowly, rising and lowering onto his thick length. “Fuck, Bob…” you moan, eyes rolling back as you lose any sense of time and place, the only thing left the feeling of Bob’s body pressed against yours, Bob’s cock splitting you open as you bounce in his lap. 

“You’re gonna kill me, fuck…” he groans into your neck as you quicken your pace, the need for him growing. He bites on your collarbone as another moan escapes his chest, thrusts quickening. He kisses the spot he’s marked, sucking a bruise into it. “You’re so good, so perfect…”

“All yours, Bob.” you pant, one hand turning his face to look at you. “I’m all yours, baby.”

The sound Bob makes borders on animalistic, a whine escaping his lips as he kisses you, sloppy and desperate. “I’m yours,” he murmurs against your lips, “I’m yours forever.”

The lewd sound of wet skin slapping echoes throughout his room interspersed with Bob’s whines and your cries. You look like an angel above him, the golden light illuminating your glassy eyes as you moan with pleasure, your tits bouncing with each movement. You can already feel your second orgasm coming, and from the expletives escaping Bob, he’s fast approaching his as well. And then you notice.

“I-is something wrong? You okay?” Bob murmurs, noticing your confused expression.

“Y-your eyes, Bob, fuck…” 

He doesn’t even realize till now that his eyes are glowing. It’s another thing the Sentry Project changed about him. It happens when he gets too caught up in something, uses his powers, gets frustrated or angry. He’d never realized it happened in situations like this. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he tells you, clenching his jaw as he tries to hold it together, his eyes buzzing with light, the lamps in the room’s brightness going in and out. “Should I-where should I-”

“In me.” you moan you rapidly bounce yourself up and down, “fuck, Bob, fill me up, please!”

“So good to me, so pretty,” he murmurs as he desperately tries to hold out from his high, his grip on you bruising, quickly losing control of himself as he unwinds. “I’m gonna give you everything. It’s all yours, baby, all for you.”

“Fuck, yes, Bob! Please, please please please-” your babbling moans end with a last scream of his name as you cum, cunt clenching around him as you take him as deep as possible, pelvises flush against each other. Something about the golden glow of his irises, the low rasp in his voice, the words themselves, it all sends you crashing over the edge, an incoherent, animalistic noise escaping you as you cling to Bob, pressing your forehead up against his.

 Bob whimpers, the glow from his eyes illuminating your face as you cum, the way your eyes roll back, the debauched expression you wear. It’s enough to send him over the edge, his eyes buzzing with light as he cums. With a cry of your name, Bob tumbles over the edge, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You feel the warm spurts of his cum within you, painting your insides, claiming you for himself. The two of you sit there, panting and sweating as you come down.

“Oh my, fucking god, that was amazing.” he looks up at you, a tired, fucked out expression on his face. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” you smile, removing your nails from where they’ve left red crescents on Bob’s shoulder blades, moving to cup his cheek. “So good to me, baby.”

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, one hand running down to your waist. 

You shake your head. “Well, I can’t really feel my legs, but I did expect that, so…”

“Sorry.” he says, though that smile on his face says otherwise. He’s proud of himself.

“‘S alright.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He whines, shifting his head to kiss you properly. He’s still inside of you, and you can feel his cock, still semi-hard within you. Even after two orgasms, you look up at him and want more, wanting to feel him, for the feeling of his skin on yours to never leave. “I could go again, honestly.”

“Really?” he laughs, a little surprised at both your stamina and the fact that you still want him. He sighs, one hand running along your jaw as he feels himself already growing hard once again. “I can’t say no to you.”

“So, yes to round two?”

“If I ever say no to that question, shoot me.” he grins, wrapping his arms around your hips as he rolls you both over, his cock staying in you the whole time. “How’s this?”

You yelp a little from the change in position, landing on your back and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders once again. 

You’re still sensitive from your first two orgasms, and Bob is aware of that.“I got you.” he whispers into your shoulders, rolling his hips gently. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.” He goes slowly, his eyes locked on yours as you pant under him, head falling back against the pillows.He kisses you again, hungry and desperate, as he sets his pace, dragging his cock out before pushing back in once again. Bob is gentle with you, considerate, a man with the power of a thousand suns turned docile above you.

“So many dirty dreams about you, baby, you’re so much better than any of ‘em.” Bob mutters into your shoulder. He looks up at you, a little unsure, although his pace doesn't change. “Is this a dream? Are you here?”

“I’m here, Bob.” you moan, giving him a small smile as you run a hand through his hair. “I-fuck! I’m here.”

You look like heaven, messy hair framing your face, mouth gaping, eyes shut as you throw your head back. You’re all he wants, everything he needs. He could stay here forever, taking care of you, fucking you, whatever you want. Just as long as you neer stop giving him those sweet smiles, screaming out his name just like that as he fucks you.

“Bob,” you call his name in a breathy whisper, “more, please, baby.”

He nods, speeding up his thrusts, pushing into you with more force. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper into you. He breaks eye contact to look down at where your bodies connect, gazing at the sheen of your arousal around his cock, the white ring forming at the base of it. A mixture of both of your cum spurts out around where he’s entering you, and the sight somehow manages to make him even harder.

He’s moaning again, and before you know it his hands are on your face, pulling you up to kiss him as his thrusts grow harder and shallower, barely pulling out before slamming his full length back into you. “Fuck, Bob, yes, just like that, yes!” You scream at the sensation. You couldn’t give a fuck if the others hear when Bob Reynolds is on top of you, pounding his pretty cock into you, whispering dirty nothings in your ear.

One hand leaves your face and returns to the spot between you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “Come on, baby, give it to me, please.” he practically begs, dark blue eyes once again shining above you. “Need you to cum for me, come on my cock, please.” You do as he says, the coil in your stomach snapping once more, ecstasy washing over you, your cunt clenching around Bob’s length. Bob curses, pressing his lips against yours as he thrusts as deep as possible, filling you up with his cum once again.

“Fuck.” you groan, barely able to lift your head. “That was cool. The eye thing.” 

“I didn’t know I did that.” he admits, rolling off of you. A small gasp escapes him as he watches his cum spill out of you, sticky and wet between your thighs. “You just look so perfect full of me.”

You smile, taking a deep breath as Bob quickly runs to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel that he uses to wipe you down. “Y’know, I never took you for a talker.”

“What, during sex?” he asks, as if he’s not literally wiping his cum off of you.

“Sex takes some of your brain cells out of you, huh?” you joke, sitting up on your elbows.

Bob chuckles, giving a small shrug. “I think that’s just what you do to me.”

After he’s carried you to the bathroom to pee, gotten you a glass of water, you settle yourself on his bare chest, running your finger along his collarbone as he shuts out the lights.

“You’re amazing.” you tell him between yawns, your eyes closing, exhausted by your activities. “Even if I can’t sit for a week.” you mutter, and then you’re out, breathing slowing as you drift off.

Bob ust smiles at the sight of you, resting against his chest, comfortable and content. Never in a million years did he think he’d have something like this. A home in the tower, a family in the team, and a love in you. “You’re perfect” he says to no one, pressing one last kiss to your hair as he wraps an arm around you, shutting his eyes for the night. “And all mine.”

[shortnfreaky]

Some new behind the scenes picture of the Thunderbolts*

[shortnfreaky]

let's take a break and just look at Harry

[shortnfreaky]

hi! maybe some pregnancy smut with walker? and can I be 🐀 anon?

you can absolutely be the 🐀anon, it would be my HONOR.

john walker turns caveman when you’re pregnant. you were always so beautiful to him, but there was something about the way you looked while carrying his baby that filled him with a primal need.

he’s always wanted a family. a big one. something about the picture-perfect american family that had always fit his picture-perfect american self. don’t think of it as a nuclear family ( even though that’s exactly what he would want ), but more so just the image of it. he wanted the beautiful wife, he wanted the little rugrats running around that had your smile and his eyes and a perfect blend of you and him. he probably thought about kids more than you did, which in his line of work, he has no business doing. so when you finally do become pregnant, he becomes obsessed with you. he was already, but it’s like you have a second shadow. your feet hurt ? there’s a plush pillow behind your back. you have a craving ? it’s there. no matter how late at night or how weird it gets or if he thinks it’s gross. you want to buy the stupidly expensive bugaboo stroller even though he insists all strollers do the same job and he doesn’t need to spend over a grand on it and he might as well just carry the baby the entire time ? he’s putting it together in the common area of the tower with the directions spread out in front of him a week after you ask for it.

the more pregnant you get, the more attracted to you john gets. he didn’t think it was possible, but you have a glow that he had only ever heard about women getting. he didn’t think it was real, that maybe it was a trick of the eye or just a delusion women got when they were going crazy from hormones. but oh baby, you are glowing in his eyes. you are literally glowing. and your hair is also softer to the touch somehow, and your cheeks have a natural blush to them that shows up more when you smile at him. and sex with john has always been rough, even if it’s slow and intimate, so john was terrified of hurting the baby.

“john, you’re not going to hurt the baby.” you would tell him as he continues with his daily fussing over you. “it’s physically impossible with the amniotic fluid and muscles surrounding the baby, you know. did you even pay attention in health class ? “ and he shoots you a small look, because, no, he didn’t pay attention in health class. “i’m not taking any risks.” but jesus christ, you can’t not have sex with john for however many months you have left while you’re pregnant.

you guys last a week before he gives in.

you lie on your back in the bed, a hand rubbing your belly that holds the new owner of your heart and john’s heart. with pregnancy comes hormone changes, and with hormone changes comes a change to your libido. for a lot of women, it’ll decrease, but tonight ? it was the highest it probably had ever been.

there’s a throb between your legs that has been aching there all day. you couldn’t focus on anything, especially not when you walked in on john having the damn nerve to box while completely shirtless. you see the faint lines of the scratches on his back that you left there fading into his pale skin, and there’s something inside of you just screaming to take him right then and there.

you don’t want to wake him up, too horny to even have the energy to argue with him when he tries to deny it because he can’t hurt the baby. if he doesn’t want to take care of you, you can do it yourself. you think anyway. you sigh, adjusting slightly on the bed to try and get more comfortable as your hand slips between your legs. you haven’t had to get yourself off since you got into a relationship with john, he always makes himself available to you.

you stifle a gasp when you feel just how wet you are, like it’s been building all day. it probably has been; you haven’t been able to sit without having to squeeze your thighs together. you’re trying your damn hardest to keep silent, eyes fluttering shut as you picture john. john’s thick cock sliding in and out of you, the beautiful image of his strawberry blonde beard soaked with your juices when he eats you out, his thick fingers that are nowhere near as please as yours. his sexy voice that — “what are you doing ? “ and you’re already whining, not even embarrassed about getting caught at this point, john slowly propping himself up on his elbow so he can get a better look at you. if it wasn’t your heavy breathing or small whimpers that woke him up, it was the sounds of your fingers curling into you. “i am going crazy,” you whined. your hand hasn’t even moved from underneath the blanket, the silhouette of your hips rocking into you. “i’m so horny and if you’re not going to do anything then — “ and his lips were on yours, shutting you up quickly.

john has been going insane the past week, too. your breasts were fuller than he remembered, the bump on your stomach that showed anyone who looked at you that you had been claimed by him. you were his and his alone. you didn’t need love bites littering your neck anymore; he had marked his territory.

you sighed when he felt john’s hand go to replace yours, a groan leaving his lips when he felt how wet you were. “i’ve been neglecting you this bad ? “ he asked against your mouth, moving his lips across your jawline and down to your neck, body having already rolled on top of yours. still careful to not put his entire weight on you, that fear still lingering no matter how horny he was. his free hand cupped one of your breasts, knowing that soon they’d be producing milk to nurture that bundle of joy inside of you. the female body amazed him.

you nodded your head, hips lifting slightly as he worked to remove the bottoms you had on. “need you so bad.” another harsh kiss to your lips, already feeling his aching cock pressing against your thigh. you weren’t alone in your ache, it seemed.

“forgive me,” not a desperate plea, he almost says it with a smirk. and he wants to fuck you with his tongue for hours on end before he gives you what you need the most, wondering if you’d even taste different being pregnant. but he can’t wait for that. neither of you can wait that long. 

“so beautiful like this, i wish you could see what i saw.” the words tumbled out of him in a rush as he slid his boxers down. even in the darkness, you could see the glistening of precum leaking out of him, another desperate whimper leaving your lips at just the sight of it. “s’okay, baby, i got you. gonna make you feel so much better. gonna make that ache go away so you can sleep.” even horny out of his mind, he’s still gonna make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

there’s a bit of fumbling that john isn’t used to, a bit of a barrier where he would normally like to be pressed against you. he doesn’t want to squish, doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. his brain is screaming to just go and take, but you can see he’s trying. “not gonna hurt us, johnny.” you’re near tears at this point, reaching for any part of him that you can to pull him closer, bringing a leg to his waist as best as you can. john would have preferred to have your legs on his shoulders or bend you in half, but he would make do with this. you both would.

he slides into you easily, a moan mingling into a shared sound into each other’s mouths. one of his hands is gripping onto your thigh, the other is holding himself up on the bed. “feel so good, baby.” he grunts, voice still tinged with sleep, even as his body is fully awake now. each thrust feels like finally scratching an itch in a hard-to-reach place. in a way it is. “can’t get over how sexy you look pregnant. want you pregnant always.”

his face tilts down to your tits, heavy with pregnancy. he grunts and has half a mind to just rip the sleep shirt you wore off, but he was too clouded with desire to do anything other than fuck you.

and neither of you last that long and he isn’t even trying to keep this going on for longer than needed. and for once, john has volume when he’s fucking you. his moans are rough in your ear and his grip is tight, your own sound like pure cries as he’s finally hitting the spot that you’ve been needing him most. “fuck, fuck —” he pants and groans.

and shit. all it takes is a glance at your bump and he’s spilling into you.

also. john walker should have been a girl dad. not that he’s lowkey any kind of dad. but i just want to see him getting more excited about the pretty little dresses and bows for his little girl. should i make a girl dad john blurb ? yeah, probably.

[shortnfreaky]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 the shipper dialogue prompts 　ﾟ･｡･

author's addition: okay… now kiss. just a warning (kinda) charles boyle spoke. i typed. that’s our process.

୨୧ “i know love when i see it. and i see it. all over your stupid faces.”

୨୧ “if you don’t confess soon, i will. on your behalf.”

୨୧ “i saw you brush shoulders. that’s legally binding where i’m from.”

୨୧ “just kiss already, i’m aging over here.”

୨୧ “every time you flirt and then say you’re ‘just friends,’ i lose a brain cell. i don’t have many left.”

୨୧ “i am not saying i ship you but i’ve already made a wedding playlist and picked out your first dance song.”

୨୧ “i’ve shipped fictional people with less chemistry than you two and they still kissed.”

୨୧ “i blinked and missed the moment you fell in love. can you reenact it?”

୨୧ “are you flirting or do you always make heart eyes while handing someone a pen?”

୨୧ “you make me believe in love. which is rude. and confusing.”

୨୧ “i am this close to handcuffing you together. don’t test me.”

୨୧ “they smiled at your joke. i’ve never smiled at your jokes. that’s love.”

୨୧ “stop acting like you’re not in love. it’s embarrassing for me.”

୨୧ “you’re basically dating. just without the benefits. or the kissing. or the honesty.”

୨୧ “have you considered: me, being right, about you two, being in love.”

୨୧ “i saw the hand graze. i saw it. don’t gaslight me.”

୨୧ “every time you deny your feelings, a fairy dies. think about that.”

୨୧ “you literally said, ‘i care about you more than anything.’ friends don’t say that! i say that to cake! but because i love it! ”

୨୧ “you’re blushing. they’re blushing. i’m blushing. just kiss, you cowards.”

୨୧ “friends don’t look at each other like that. enemies don’t look at each other like that. only soulmates do.”

୨୧ “when you finally get together i’m going to sob. and then say ‘i told you so.’”

୨୧ “i love love. specifically your love. now get it together and be the main characters you were meant to be.”

GIVE CREDITS TO @iamgonnagetyouback / @fawndrip

[shortnfreaky]

wrapping my legs around his waist I MEAN WHO SAID THAT

[shortnfreaky]

GIVE ME PRAISE KINK WALKER…!!!!

John walker who’s all over you, grunting and taking what he wants until he hears “such a good job baby” or “god you’re so big Jonny” and hes folding like cheap plastic chair. Whining and panting and begging his way through it… yeah… sorry

YOU GET IT ….

john has spent so much of his life being a man. if you get what i mean. captain of his high school football team ( led three times to the championship ! ), first person in american military history to receive three medal of honor, and then captain america. there was always something about him that just knew he was manly, so he went along with that.

he grew up with the motto ‘ men don’t cry, ‘ which he still believes to this day, but that goes along with anything that could be considered unmanly. praise, in his opinion, always went to the woman that he was with. making the person that he was with feel good was his priority, even if getting his dick wet had to be in the top three when it came along with that.

and then came you.

john walker knows how to have sex, he is cocky about a lot of things and sex is a big one for him. he knows how to have sex, serum or not, he has always had a good amount of stamina with it. he doesn’t go through the motions; sex has always been a ritual for john. it’s a stress relief, it’s a way to take the weight off his shoulders and pretend like he isn’t who he is for even just a minute ( and john walker lasts longer than a minute, he prays anyways ). but he has always believed that the man in the relationship has to be dominant and in control. he liked having that control because it was one of the few things that he could actually control in his life.

you’re below him, large hands roam over your body as he fucks into you. it’s what he does best ! taking control over a situation that makes the both of you happy. your legs are wrapped around him, strings of moans leaving your lips as he nips and sucks into your neck. but he just fucks so good that you can’t help yourself when you say: “fuck, johnny, you’re so big.” and he is. he knows he is. but there’s something about you verbally confirming that fact that drives a shaky zig-zag down his spine. he swallows down the moan that wants to leave, because why would a compliment feel so good ? but you feel that shiver, the way his hands tighten around you and how his head falls against your shoulder. he covers it with a messy bite against your collarbone, but of course you notice it. “feel so good, baby. god, you feel so good.” and you keep going, which only makes his head spin more as a brutal noise leaves him. the noise comes out strangled, almost pained. a heat runs through his body as the compliments keep hitting him like a punch, one right after another.

he never thought too hard about why he preened each time someone complimented him. just thought that everyone felt really good when someone threw a compliment at them.

but he keeps himself quiet because he isn’t a loud person in bed, so he doesn’t want to make it seem like your words aren’t making his stomach tighten. your face his close to his ear, nails digging into the nape of his neck just the way he likes it. “no one fucks me like you. so good baby. fuck, you’re so good.”

and the sounds in the room are nothing short of pornographic. skin slapping together, a wet squelch that is only because john knew how to please you before he fucked you good. and then there was him. grunts that were slowly turning into soft whines as his brows furrowed together. the noises were so unmanly that he couldn’t help the way he nuzzled into your neck to try and hide them.

but your compliments only brought him closer to the edge.

“so . . . so perfect. so pretty and good, johnny.” your breath was hot against his ear, each word coming out in a whine with each thrust into you. another whimper left his pink lips, a whimper that made his pale cheeks flush, that he prayed you wouldn’t notice.

but you noticed everything about him, knew him like the back of your hand.

“let me focus,” he would grunt out, lips pressing against yours desperately just to get you to shut up. because your voice shouldn’t make him feel like he was going insane, your compliments shouldn’t go straight to his dick as he tried not to finish before you did. he had a good streak of pleasing you first; he wasn’t about to break it because you confirmed what he already knew.

“my pretty boy. so fuckin’ good, baby.” but you continued to speak against his lips because you knew that your compliments were getting to him. the manly john walker was whimpering against your skin and mouth all because you decided that tonight was the night to let out strings of praises instead of the moans that he was so used to.

the nail on the coffin is the way you tighten against him as his mouth moves to your jaw and lips. his face feels so much warmer than before and his grip on you is tight enough to bruise. he’s embarrassed by how much this is turning him on, he can’t help it. “right there, right there. you got it, johnny.” and your moans are suddenly driving him that much further. he can’t help it when his usual grunts and sighs turn into real moans. the way his body feels like it’s on fire as he shoots into you, riding out his orgasm into you as he practically whines into your throat.

he feels your soft hand gently stroking his hair as his body shivers against it, not lifting his face to look you in the eye. you both already know what he is thinking and feeling —— he doesn’t have the energy to admit it.

“all it takes is a little praise for you, huh?”

pavlov has nothing on john after this. any sweet words from you go straight to his ego and dick. but for now, he grumbles something unintelligible to make it seem like he didn’t sound like a bitch while he fucked you. no, because that’s not manly.

you keep this up each and every time.

[shortnfreaky]

missing wanda like a MF