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em1i2a3 · 2 months ago

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When The Sun Hits

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are starting to test the waters among rampant growing suspicions from the rest of the team (This is a continuation of “Carry The Zero”)

Warnings: AHEM! 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts just because of Bob’s involvement (there’s no mentioning of the plot from Thunderbolts or anything just character involvement ex. Bucky, Yelena, Alexei, Walker etc.), Fluff, References to Sex and/or Sexual Acts, Bob…Is a warning lol. There’s a little bit of self-depreciation in this, talking bad about oneself, but nothing too extreme on that front.

Smut Warnings: Grinding, Teasing (kind of on the brink of edging?) Unprotected P in V Sex (Wrap it up y’all…Or Y’know…Take precautions at least lol), Oral Sex (fem receiving), Fingering, Spit Swallowing, Handjob, Praise/Worship Kink. Soft/Submissive Bob (if you squint) (Hopefully I didn’t miss anything),

Author’s Note: I got this out as soon as I possibly could, thank you so much for the activity on the last post :) y’all are frickin awesome. I hope you enjoy this new part of this story, because I’m going straight to horny jail *boink boink* lol (also whoever made this gif you deserve all the fucking flowers <3)

Word Count: 16,150

Two weeks later you found yourself on the training mat, slicked with sweat, and out of breath.

You wiped your forearms across your forehead, chest rising and falling as you rolled your shoulders to relieve some tension that seized up your back, steadying your stance again, angling yourself carefully so your sight was trained on both Yelena and Bucky.

“Ready?” Yelena asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, her curtain bangs bobbing with each movement, preparing herself to pounce.

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, exhaling hard through your nose, tasting the remnants of blood that you had spit out two rounds ago after taking a pretty hard slap to the face. You kept your mind clear though, because if you focused on anything else in that moment, you’d lose miserably, or get hurt again, which was something that you didn’t want at all, especially after you were benched for a week after you injured your shoulder.

It was two against one today, which was entirely unfair, but also part of the challenge. Bucky called it ‘awareness training.’ Yelena called it ‘fun.’

They flanked you like wolves attacking a wounded animal. Yelena moved first, sharp and precise, going for a low sweep with her leg. You jumped and dodged it easily, pivoting to avoid Bucky’s right hook. He was heavier on his feet, but that didn’t mean he was slower in any sense. You ducked beneath his next swing and caught Yelena’s wrist before she could even capitalize on your evasion, using her own momentum to send her stumbling back, giving you some space to breathe.

”Not bad,” She huffed.

”Not done yet,” Bucky growled, before charging at you again. You anticipated him this time, moving back just enough to throw him off rhythm. He came at you with a series of jabs, but you blocked them all, even the ones that were enhanced by his vibranium arm, which surprised you even. You parried with a side kick that landed square against his hip, catching him off balance. This granted you a window to turn back towards Yelena, who had just regained her footing.

She came in full force and you barely had time to register her moves. You raised your arm to shield your face from her fist, feeling the impact ripple along the muscle just below your biceps, before striking in the open space she left, right at her ribs, which made her take in a sharp gasp of air.

You didn’t mean to, but a little satisfied smirk played on your lips, like you had the upper hand, like you were finally going to win…Then Bucky swept your legs out from under you with a move so clean you barely noticed the impact.

You hit the mat with a hard exhale, the wind knocking out of your lungs as your back hit the floor. The fluorescent light shined down into your eyes, almost blinding you, and in a blink, Bucky was standing over you, looking down with his hands on his hip.

”You got cocky…And let your guard down for the third time.” He muttered, with a small grin plastered on his face.

”That…” You breathed, trying to recoup the air you lost from slamming into the mat, “Was a cheap shot,” You added, blinking up at him, seeing the way his hair framed his face as he shook his head at you. Without another word, he extended his hand out to you, and you took it, fingers gripping his forearm as he hoisted you to your feet in one swift movement. You staggered slightly when the room tilted for a split second, your balance thrown from the impact you took that still surged through you with little aftershocks. Bucky steadied you instantly with a firm hand on your elbow, eyes scanning over your face.

”You alright?” He asked, with concern lacing his voice, trying to determine whether or not you needed another med bay visit. You gave him a nod.

”Yeah, yeah, just a bit dizzy from that slam, but I’ll live.” Right before Bucky was going to respond, Yelena cut in.

”Alright you two. Water. Now. Before I pass out from sweating so much.” She didn’t wait for either of you to agree, she just turned toward the bench on the far side of the room, and snatched up three water bottles from the crate nearby, which were already chilled. She tossed one to you and to Bucky, beckoning the both of you to join her in a nice break.

The three of you dropped down onto the bench with soft grunts and groans harmonizing the air, as you dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off it. You were beat, that was for certain. You could already feel a new set of bruises forming on your body, especially where you had landed on your ass just moments ago, and that was just another thing you were going to have to tend to for the next few days.

You twisted the cap off your bottle and took three large gulps from it, feeling your chest go cold from how quick you chugged. Your sweat-slicked shirt clung to your spine, but the introduction of the drink was finally managing your body temperature, as your pulse began to slow down, easing the rhythmic thumping that echoed through your ears. You put the cap back on, and placed the bottle against your forehead with a sigh, watching your teammates settle down–Yelena beside you, Bucky on the bench across the way. That’s when you felt it…The subtle tension in the air, the silence that lingered just long enough that it made you suspicious.

Bucky lifted his brows sharply at Yelena, like he was daring her to speak first, like they had been planning on asking you questions all day but didn’t know how to approach the subject. She shook her head just once, staring at him with pointed daggers, almost like she was saying that it was his idea so he should be the one to say it. He let out a defeated sigh.

“So…Uh…” He started, scrunching his nose like the words that were on the tip of his tongue tasted weird in his mouth, “How’s it going with Bob? Y’know…Rooming with him and all.” The question caught you off guard, but the awkwardness from Bucky gave off the sense that he was asking this more because everyone else around him was talking and making up their own theories, and he just wanted to get the answers once and for all.

That didn’t mean the question didn’t spike your heart rate again though. Just the mentioning of Bob made you immediately go on defence mode, not just because of what was going on between the both of you, but because you both wanted this to be private until further notice. Neither of you were prepared for the team to know about your late night rendezvous, or how deep the connection really went. It was your little secret and you preferred to keep it that way.

“It’s okay…” You answered, trying to cover up the stutter in your words, “He’s definitely one of the easier roommates I’ve had to be honest. Super quiet, keeps to himself. It’s great.” You avoided Bucky’s gaze, your eyes focusing on the water bottle in your hands before glancing over at Yelena, who was already squinting at you.

”Super quiet, huh?” She repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, like she didn’t quite buy what you were putting down. You looked over at Bucky too, now seeing that he was watching you as well with one elbow propped up on his knee so he could rest his chin on his fist.

“Yeah, super quiet, he just reads and sleeps basically, nothing more, nothing less. What’s with this line of questioning? You two roleplaying as detectives or something?” Bucky huffed through his nose, a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

”We wouldn’t have to be detectives if you weren’t so secretive…” You raised your eyebrows at Bucky, attempting to hold onto your fake innocence, trying to make it seem like they weren’t somehow onto you, even though there was no possible way they could know anything that was going on in your shared room…Not unless there were cameras, but that was definitely not the case…Because you looked for them.

“Me? Secretive? I don’t understand how I’m being secretive, I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?” Yelena made a small humming sound beside you, sipping from her water bottle, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

”Okay then, Miss Transparency…” She started, setting the bottle on the bench gently, “What about the window?” You froze, and instantly your brain spiraled with questions on how the hell she found out about the window. You kept your cool on the outside, while the rest of your internal organs were twisting and malfunctioning on the inside trying to figure out how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

”What window?” You asked.

”The one in your room,” Yelena responded, leaning forward just a little bit to crowd your space, “Maintenance said you put in a request to fix it three days ago because there was a crack in the glass. He said it looked like someone took a sledge hammer to it. Kinda weird, yeah?” You blinked at Yelena, keeping your expression blank, like you were thinking.

“Ohhhh…That window.” You said, as if you had just remembered what she was talking about. You waved your hand vaguely, letting out a shaky laugh, which did absolutely nothing to cover the tension that began to seep through your muscles, “Yeah, no, it’s not that weird. I, uh…Accidently pushed my dresser drawer closed a little too hard and the wood slammed into the glass, kind of a freak accident if you ask me.” Yelena stared at you flatly, watching you flail while trying to come up with something believable off the top of your head. If you had time to actually prepare for the grilling you would’ve at least thought of something as back up, but this was just totally unexpected.

It’s not like you could’ve told them the truth anyways, because it just wouldn’t have sounded good, and it would’ve just put Bob under the spotlight once again, and he didn’t deserve that at all. Not when he was trying so hard to get along with everyone, which he was doing very well at until this point at least.

So you just laughed it off again, muttering something about needing to be more careful, before tipping the bottle of water to your lips to shut yourself up.

But your mind was already drifting back to that night, and you couldn’t stop it.

——————

Four nights ago was movie night.

Alexei had insisted on it—insisted being the operative word, because no one had really agreed to it in the first place.

He said movie nights were a “sacred ritual” from his youth, a tradition that brought people together, made them stronger, and unified the soul. And when someone offhandedly mentioned that Bucky had never seen Rocky IV, that sealed everyone’s fate.

“It is masterpiece,” Alexei declared, standing in the center of the living room with the case held high like a relic. You were surprised that he even had a DVD of it, but then again he had mentioned in passing it was one of his favourite movies.

“American propaganda, yes, but still…Very good representation.” He exclaimed, moving around the living room to locate the video player, as you all watched him.

So Rocky IV became the night’s reluctant feature, and any protests were quickly steamrolled under his booming enthusiasm.

The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and the only glow in the room came from the TV screen—icy blue and gunmetal gray as the film’s opening credits began to roll. Everyone had found their spots. Yelena curled into one corner of the sectional while Walker was on the other, Bucky sat low in a beanbag chair with his arms crossed, Alexei sat right in front of the television with the reverence of a man watching live theatre…

And then there was you.

You tucked yourself into the corner of the couch with a blanket draped on top of you, leaning against a pillow for support because your shoulder was still giving you a little bit of trouble. Bob was beside you, but he was not close enough to raise suspicion as the both of you had separate blankets and weren’t really touching at all…Not yet, at least.

Somewhere near the halfway point of the movie–just after Rocky’s training montage–Bob shifted slightly beside you, adjusting himself with a slight turn of his hips. It wasn’t a big move, but it was noticeable enough to draw your eyes to him, then you saw his hand sliding beneath his blanket ever so slowly, paying attention to the others in the room, hoping that none of them would turn around.

Even through the terrible lighting you could see him beginning to flush, his pale skin becoming a gentle hue of pink which spread all the way down to the collar of pale green sweater, and below it. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight, seeing how he tried to keep his profile composed, as he moved his hand with quiet purpose, sliding beneath your blanket in one quick movement, knowing that once he was under there nobody would know any better what was happening.

His fingers found your thigh beneath the covering, completely bare for him because of the flannel shorts you were wearing. The first touch was delicate, almost like it wasn’t even there, though you could feel the heat radiating off his skin as the pads of his fingers ghosted over the wide plane of your flesh. He was waiting for you to pull away, to signal to him you didn’t want him to do this here, but when that moment didn’t come, his hand finally settled against you.

He took everything slow, and moved with such care and purpose that you felt like you were going to melt into the sofa . His palm molded gently to the outside of your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles, drawing goosebumps up to the surface of your skin. The touch wasn’t lewd, nor needy…It was intimate in one of the simplest ways possible. Just the grounding press of his hand against you, soaking up the heat of your body, letting it mingle with his own.

You felt your pulse begin to hammer in your ears, and your eyes flickered to the rest of the team, checking if they were still transfixed by whatever was happening in the movie, which they were. Nobody was looking. So you took this as an opportunity for yourself to make a move now too.

It was a gentle shift, just enough to let your blanket drape a little farther over the space between the both of you, until it overlapped with his. You ripped a page out of Bob’s book and slipped your hand beneath the threshold of the covering, before moving it towards him with the same stealthy patience he had just moments ago.

You found his thigh easily, resting your hand against the soft checker-patterned sleep pants he wore. The fabric was light and thin enough to allow you to feel every flex and shift of muscle beneath your touch, the way it twitched at first contact and relaxed when you dragged your palm against it. He cleared his throat gently, trying to mask the noise that was about to slip out of his throat unwillingly.

His thumb on your thigh had stilled completely in those moments, like you had pulled the plug on all his motor functions by just settling your hand on him in the most gentle way possible. Over the past week of being holed up together during your Bucky mandated break from training, you had learned that gentleness was the key thing that unraveled Bob faster than anything else ever could.

Your fingers slowly dragged upward with the lightest graze over the thin fabric, tracing the line of muscle you could feel there. You didn’t press hard, there was no need to, because you could already feel that he was burning under your palm, coming undone, shifting in his seat, like he wanted to get closer to you but couldn’t.

He was trying so hard not to breathe loudly, or to draw attention to himself by making an unnatural noise. His hand tightened on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze, like he was pleading for you to continue, but for you to also take it easy on him because he didn’t know how much he was going to be able to handle. He felt like he was going to turn into a puddle on the sofa, and the sweating and flushing that he was doing was only a prelude to that. You could feel the tension in his body, the way it practically vibrated through him, and it only made you want to touch him more.

You smoothed your thumb over the inside of his thigh, just above the knee, where he flinched. He sucked in a breath and immediately turned it into a cough, low and forced, like he was trying to dislodge something that was stuck in his throat–even though you knew it was just him trying to stifle a sound that he didn’t dare let out–squeezing your thigh again like it was anchoring him to whatever stability he had left.

You didn’t need more than this. You just enjoyed every morsel of connection you got from him, and revelled in the excitement that coursed through your veins from the small things you learned about him, like how easy he was to read, or how flustered he got from such little contact. Or how touch-starved he was despite all the late nights and quiet mornings you two were sharing up until this point. He was learning how to let himself go, but that didn’t mean he was used to it just yet.

By the time the end credits rolled and Alexei stood to stretch with a complaint about how Americans don’t know when to end a movie, Bob was already clawing at the opportunity to make his grand escape. His hand left your thigh, and reached for his blanket–not to fold it, not to hold it when he stood–but to clutch it, to replicate the grip he had on your skin moments before. You slowly removed your hand from him as well, making sure you discreetly brought it back into your area without anyone noticing.

Every motion he did was methodical, almost exaggerated in its effort to present itself as casual, like the both of you weren’t just touching each other's thighs beneath your communal blankets. You watched from the corner of your eye as Bob adjusted the covering over his lip, gripping the hem carefully as he shifted on the couch, leaning slightly forward.

He was shielding himself.

You could tell by the blush that began to deepen around his neck, and the way he couldn’t seem to look at anyone in the room–not even you–that he was trying very hard not to be obvious about the problem that was currently occurring below his waist. The one you had caused with just the gentle stroking of his thigh.

The realization made you heat up, but also smirk.

”I’m gonna…Uh…” Bob cleared his throat, attempting to cover up the way his words buckled under his voice “Head to my room…Start getting ready for bed and stuff, I had a good book I was getting into before…C-Coming to watch the movie.” He added, standing from the couch, keeping the blanket bunched in front of him with a practiced sort of shuffle that only he could execute with pure awkwardness. He said a vague goodnight and everyone responded in their own little way, as he moved towards the corridor that led to the makeshift bedrooms.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching when he made it out of everyone’s line of sight. He turned around, knowing that your eyes were already on him and mouthed a very light “please hurry,” before rushing down the hallway to seek refuge in the privacy of your room.

You waited exactly thirty seconds, which was long enough for the heat in your limbs to settle so when you stood up you didn’t have shaky legs, or draw attention to any of your actions, even though nobody was really paying attention in general.

Yelena was half-sleep, eyes barely open while she nursed what was left of her electrolytes. Walker had his head tilted back, and was snoring loudly. Bucky was sprawled out in the beanbag chair, and Alexei was still rambling, only now it was about how Ivan Drago’s story in Rocky is just misunderstood. So you took the opportunity to stand, and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing your eyes for added effect.

”Think I’m also going to head to bed too. I’m exhausted.” You murmured, which earned a small wave from Yelena, a grunt of acknowledgment from Bucky, and a pause from Alexei.

”Did you not like the movie?” He asked, and you smirked.

”Yes of course I liked it, I’ve just seen it a few too many times, but tomorrow you can give me the footnotes on how misunderstood Drago’s story is, for now though I’m off to bed.” He gave you a wide smile, and as you moved away from the living room you could hear him mumble something about you actually being interested in what he had to say.

You quickly made your way down the hall, feeling your heart racing as you made your way towards the room. You tried your best to not make yourself look suspicious but the anticipation was eating you up on the inside.

The second you entered your shared quarters and closed the door behind you, you felt it–that shift in the air, like the moment right before lightning strikes a tree, the static that ebbs and flows through the atmosphere, like a warning to those who are around. The only light that glowed in the space was the desk lamp, which casted golden shapes across the walls, and once you locked the door and turned around, your eyes fell on him.

Bob stood by his bed, the blanket was long discarded, and his sweater was removed, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. His hands were fidgeting uselessly with the tie of his sleep pants, and when his eyes fell on you it was like he lost all the thoughts that were running through his head. The flush of pink on his cheeks hadn’t faded, if anything it had gotten worse between the time he left the couch and now, like the warmth had fully rooted inside him.

He didn’t say anything right away, he just opened his arms slightly, silently offering himself to you.

In a few quick steps, you crossed the room, taking up the space between his arms, pressing your hands gently to his chest, feeling the way his heart galloped beneath your palm. He cupped your elbows first, tentative and shy, looking down at you with those shimmering blue eyes that you had come to fawn over in secret, before letting his hands slide down to your wrists. You gave him a soft smile, tilting your head back a bit so he could lean forward to kiss you.

His mouth brushed yours once–tentative and silent, like he was asking a question–then again, with more confidence when you didn’t pull away, before fully pressing his mouth to yours. He kissed you like he thought he would never get the chance to do it again. Like he was memorizing the shape of your lips, or the way you sighed into him like you’d been holding your breath for hours while waiting for this moment to come. His hands left your wrists, you slid up to your jaw, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the corners of your mouth

And you melted into him.

You’d been doing this dance for the past few nights now–experiencing these careful, burning moments together that never quite tipped over the edge–and neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t need the act of sex to feel intimate with him, even though you still had those thoughts that raced through you from time to time.

Every night you got to learn something new about him–how his breathing changed when you kissed his throat, how the muscles in his stomach twitched when you trailed your fingers ever so slowly under the hem of his shirt, and how he arched subtly into your touch like he was too afraid to vocalize that he wanted more.

It was explorative, patient, and gentle, and that’s all the both of you needed to have a good time.

The kiss continued to deepen, as his lips parted for you, letting your tongue through the threshold. He tasted like fresh breath mints, like he had swallowed a few before you came into the room, which wasn’t an out of place thought at all–he typically did small things like that.

His hands skimmed down your neck, and over your shoulders, travelling down to your hips to anchor himself against you. He put a little more pressure into the kiss, feeling your body press flush into his, causing a small gasp to escape and vibrate against your lips from him. He pulled back for a moment, as your arms slid around his neck, guiding him down even more so he could bury his face briefly into your shoulder. He breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the various scents that radiated off of you– the vanilla from your shampoo, the lavender from your perfume, and the sage that constantly stayed on all of your clothes in general–before exhaling shakily, tugging you closer to him.

He guided you backward with a quiet sort of urgency.

”Come here,” He whispered, the words came out so softly it barely made it past his lips.

He led you to his bed, with his hand pressed low at your back, fingers splayed out like it was steadying the both of you. When the backs of your legs met the edge of the mattress you let yourself sit, eyes still locked on his. He was still watching you closely, like you were ethereal, something that shouldn’t exist for him.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling how swollen it was just from the one kiss that you got, and brought your fingers to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under. Bob felt his chest heave for a moment, the beating of his heart only becoming more frantic, as he hung on your movements like it was a sacred text.

You peeled the top off slowly, revealing the curve of your waist, your chest, your shoulders in small increments–it was more than he’d ever seen at once from you. Once you riddled yourself of the article of clothing you threw it to the side, which left you in just a plain white, cotton bra.

Bob’s gaze swept over you modestly, almost like he was too shy to linger on one part of you for too long, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You saw the way he struggled to swallow for a moment, gulping loudly from the way his throat closed from all the tension that was building up in the room, then you saw his hands move down to the hem of his own shirt.

He awkwardly shimmied out of the fabric, tugging it over his head, messing up his light brown mane of hair in the proces. You could feel your chest tighten, and your mouth dry up, seeing the expanse of skin that was exposed to you.

It was the first time he’d allow you to see him like this.

And god–he was beautiful.

His chest was broad and lean. He was dusted with freckles that went across his shoulders and collarbones, like they were constellations begging to be traced. There were a few scars too–old and pale, stretched and softened with time, because they certainly weren’t fresh. You wondered about each of them. Not necessarily the stories, but how they shaped him as the person you were falling for more and more every day.

He was flushed from neck to navel, the pink hue blossoming over his ribs and all the way up to his ears. His arms hung at his sides for a moment, allowing you to drink in the image, even though he was visibly curling in on himself a bit. You reached out for him, beckoning for him to come closer to you, watching as he sheepishly moved into your space now. Your fingers skimmed gently over his ribs, dragging slowly up the plane of his stomach and across the center of his chest. You looked up at him with a smile plastered on your lips

“You’re breathtaking Bob…” You whispered, seeing the way his eyes softened, hearing the sincerity that laced your voice when the compliment fell from you. He felt lightheaded from it, as you leaned in to kiss the skin just above his navel, your smile shadowing against the flesh.

“I think I’m gonna die.” He responded, choking on his own breaths.

”Now, now…Don’t die yet…You haven’t kissed me again.” That is what unraveled him, seeing you pull away from his stomach, looking up at him with those lust filled eyes that he had seen night after night.

He leaned down slowly this time, and when your lips met, it was warmer than before, like a supernova had exploded between the both of you. It started soft, like the last one, but it built. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of reverence that made your toes curl into the carpet beneath you. His hands skimmed down your sides, thumbs brushing along the soft slope of your waist as he kissed you deeper.

Then one hand drifted lower, tracing over your outer thigh. He paused just for a second to look at you, and when you gave the smallest nod, he gently urged you backward.

You let him guide you down until you back pressed into the mattress as he hovered above you, bracing himself on one elbow beside your head while the other stayed on your thigh, as you bracketed his hips with your legs. You could feel how hard he was trying to rein himself in, watching his shoulders tense when you brought him closer to you.

”A-Are you sure this is okay?” He whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the thin space between you.

”Bob,” You murmured, tracing your fingers along the freckles on his collarbone, “If I wasn’t sure, I would tell you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a beat, the words sinking into him like a weighted blanket, before he leaned forward to kiss you again, savouring the contact.

You felt the way he trembled just slightly above you, the way he braced so carefully against his arm, like he was scared of putting too much weight on you, or doing something wrong. His lips dragged over yours, warm and open, letting you taste the cool mint again as his tongue flicked out to meet yours when you deepened the kiss.

His breath stuttered as he exhaled sharply through his nose, attempting to keep up, but you could feel how overwhelmed he was already. Your hands slid over his back, fingers tracing along the soft lines of his muscles beneath skin that practically burned beneath your touch. You felt every ripple, every twitch of control that he tried to maintain, and the thought of it–of him holding himself back for you–made you want to pull him even closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, almost like it was bordering on a whimper.

“Jesus…You feel so good,” He whispered suddenly, like he couldn’t keep it in, like it was something he had been wanting to say all week and it finally burst free. His voice cracked slightly with the confession, and his cheeks burned as he buried his face against your jaw to hide the heat crawling up his neck, realizing how stupid it must’ve sounded.

”S-Sorry, I just…I just-“ You hushed him for a moment, slipping your hand up his back slowly before curling your fingers into his hair.

”Bob…Don’t apologize. You feel good against me too.” You had barely let the words settle between the both of you, when you hooked your legs a little tighter around his waist and gently guided his hips closer to yours.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat.

His jaw slackening and his lips parting in tandem with one another, as his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to decipher something written across your irises. You could see it in his face–the unraveling, the awe, the absolute vulnerability of someone who wasn’t used to being wanted like this. And yet, he was burning from the inside out.

“What…What are you doing?” He asked, his voice thin and shaky.

Instead of answering, you ground your hips up against him in one slow, aching press.

The noise he made was soft and strangled, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then snapped open again, and you were able to see the dazed glassiness that shimmered over them. You could see the way the new sensation tore through him, as a full-body tremor made his shoulders tense and his thighs flinch.

He didn’t move at first–he couldn’t. But when you tugged gently on the back of his hair and pressed your lips to his neck, he let go.

His hips rocked forward, not with force but with aching, desperate need, mirroring the movement you’d given him. Your bodies slotted together in a slow, tender rhythm, each motion sending a wave of heat in your abdomen. It wasn’t frenzied or rough—it was exploratory, intoxicating, and so deeply charged you felt like your bones were shaking.

You kissed your way up his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. His hand was trembling against your thigh, while the other one gripped the duvet beside your head. You felt the shudder in his breath again, and the way his hips pressed a little harder this time, a little more urgently. You could feel the outline of him pushing against the thin fabric of your cotton shorts, and it left you breathless, just the thought of being so close almost made your heart stop.

The moment swelled around you–timeless, heavy, and sacred.

Then your fingers trailed down, slow as molasses, brushing over his abdomen and dipping lower, finding the waistband of his sleep pants.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire body went rigid, and his eyes snapped open, bright and wide—and in that split second, you saw it. That flicker of gold in his irises. It glinted like sunlit honey, like lightning flashing beneath the surface of a lake.

Then–CRACK.

A sharp, unnatural noise split into the room, and both your heads jerked toward the window, seeing the fracture that had webbed across the glass. It kind of looked similar to when a rock hits a windshield at full speed, only there was a larger impact point. You both blinked at the damage, before your eyes returned to his, seeing that the gold was gone, and he was back to his normal shimmering blue irises that you were enamoured by.

His mouth moved to speak, but no sound came out, then he looked down at himself, and froze. You followed his gaze, seeing a wet spot blooming across the front of his pants.

Then everything happened all at once.

He scrambled off of you, nearly toppling sideways off the bed in the process, and you sat up immediately, reaching for him.

”Bob…Hey…” You said, trying to get him to calm down a bit, but he was already moving.

”Crap…I’m-I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, as he grabbed his shirt off the floor, pulling it on with frantic hands like he needed to shield himself from you, from the world, from his own embarrassment that floated up into his chest, causing him to shake a bit. He tried to cover up the wet patch as his skin turned a cherry red, spreading all the way over his face and neck. He opened his drawer so fast that it nearly flew off the track as he collected the first pair of boxers and sleep pants that he could find.

“Bob, it’s alright.” You murmured, watching him rush towards the door,

”I-I just…I need…I just need a second.” He whispered before bolting out the door so he could tend to himself in the privacy of the bathroom.

You sat on his bed, still breathless from the closeness, from the way his body had moved against yours, and from the crack in the damn window. But mostly, from the way he looked when he realized what had happened—like the sky had fallen on him. Your heart was aching in the way he reacted, and now that you were sitting alone everything felt amplified.

Your eyes drifted to the window again, staring at the crack that shimmered faintly beneath the golden wash of the lamp–splintering like lightning. Curiosity pulled you from the bed, as you shuffled closer to it, wanting to get a better look.

The fracture was intricate, jagged at the center with spider web veins splitting outward like a slow explosion. You reached up, hovering your hand in front of it.

No air came through, no whistling of wind, and no change in temperature.

You furrowed your brow and pressed your palm against the surface, feeling the cool solidity of the glass. It didn’t flex, nor did it crack even more with the pressure you placed on it, which made you even more perplexed.

You stepped back slightly, squinting at the window. It definitely wasn’t a regular one, it was industrial, reinforced, maybe even bulletproof. The thought made your lips part a little, as you tried to reconcile the softness of Bob–the sweet, awkward, blushing man who mouthed please hurry to you because he wanted to be so close–with the person who had just cracked fortified glass because he was so overwhelmed by your touch.

You huffed out a breath that was caught between awe and amusement, as you continued to stare at the jagged impact, until you saw movement in the glass, noticing Bob trying to sneak in, like you wouldn’t see him. You turned on your heels.

He stood against the door, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you looked him over. He had changed into navy blue sleep pants, and his hair was clinging to his forehead–you assumed it was from him splashing water on his face to freshen up. He was holding onto a bundle of clothes–the ones he had changed out of–as his eyes scanned over you before dating away. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were shirtless, standing in your bra still.

His face flushed again, but this time it was threaded with much more than just embarrassment. There was remorse in there, maybe even a little bit of fear, like he was worried that you wouldn’t look at him the same because of what happened.

“I…” He started, voice hoarse, “…I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to just…Leave like that, I just–” He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. Or, I mean–you did, I guess, but–God.” He laughed breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut for a second. “I’m making this worse.” You shook your head gently, cutting him off before he spiraled any further.

“It’s okay Bob…Trust me you don’t have to apologize.” You said quietly, stretched out a hand towards him, “Now, come over here please.” Bob glanced down at the gesture, returning his gaze back up at you, hesitating for only a second before stepping forward, dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor. His movements were so timid, like a wounded animal coming over to look at the mess it made.

When he was close enough you leaned forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist. His eyes were wide and glistening as you tugged him toward you even more, his lashes trembling with the weight of remorse. Not just for bolting from the room or leaving you half-dressed and flushed on his bed, but for losing control…For being too much.

“I see those cogs turning in your head. Your brows are furrowing. Stop thinking for a second, and just look at me Bob.” You said, breaking through the thoughts that kept racing through his head, wrapping your arms around his waist. Bob let out a soft sigh, bringing his gaze down to yours. His hands hovered over your back for a moment before slowly coming to rest against your skin, holding onto you like he was afraid you were going to crack.

“…I truly didn’t mean to do that…” He murmured, motioning to the window, “I didn’t even think about it...It just happened.” You turned slightly in his arms, glancing back at the window for a split second, then returning your gaze back to him. You tilted your head up, brushing your lips softly against the underside of his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

”Pretty sure it’s bulletproof glass too, by the way.” He blinked down at you, his cheeks flushing a deeper red, confused at the statement, and at the way you were smirking up at him, “I must’ve really gotten you going.” You added, trying to lighten the mood. A groan caught in his throat.

”Please…Don’t say that.” He whispered under his breath.

”Why not? It’s kind of hot.” Bob’s eyebrows raised at your comment, letting out a quiet laugh–embarrassed, and flustered, but undeniably touched by the way you were trying to make light of the situation.

”You know…I think you should actually be a little freaked out by this at least,” He stated gently, pulling back just a little bit so the both of you could comfortably look at each other, “I mean…We didn’t even…Do anything and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he ran his hands along your back, “I’m just saying if I lost that much control just f-from grinding against you, what’s going to happen when we have sex?” He added, his voice laced with worry. You traced your fingers along his spine as you listened, feeling his chest rising and falling against you, the panic simmering underneath all the tension in his muscles. You leaned into him a bit more.

”Well…You don’t really use your powers all that much, Bob.” He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised by what you were possibly suggesting. You continued, gently brushing your thumbs along the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’ve been bottling all that energy up without giving yourself a way to release it. Maybe you need to exhaust your powers a little–practice, push yourself in a safe space so you can figure out where the edges are. Then maybe…” You paused mid-sentence, reaching up to him to push his hair off his forehead, “You won’t have to worry about breaking any more windows.” He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling your fingertips trailing down the side of his face to hold his jaw.

“Or…” You added thoughtfully, “We could try some small exercises together. I know there are grounding techniques for people with telekinesis or energy-based mutations–things to help hone it and redirect it before it builds up too much.”

Bob was staring at you now like you were the only stable piece of land in a world that kept shaking under his feet. You ran your thumb along the slight roughness of his jaw, taking in the warmth of his skin.

“Either way,” You said, “We can figure it out together.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Together,” He repeated, almost like he was testing the weight of the suggestion in his mouth, making sure it was real. His hands gripped you just a little tighter, like he didn’t want to let go, admiring the fact that you were even sticking it out with him.

“And maybe next time,” You whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You’ll crack something a little less expensive.”

That made him laugh for real this time–a breathy, bashful sound as he rested his forehead against yours. “No more windows,” He whispered. “I promise.” You swayed in your spot for a moment relishing in the silence, as your hearts thudded against each other like it shared the same rhythm.

“…Maybe just the bedframe,” He mumbled a second later–so quietly you almost missed it.

There was a pause.

Then his eyes went wide, his entire face lighting up scarlet as the implication hit him a split second too late. “Oh my god,” He breathed, “I didn’t mean—shit—I mean I did but I—”

You broke into laughter, the sound bursting out of you like sunlight, catching yourself against his chest as your shoulders shook. “Robert Reynolds,” You gasped through your giggles, “I didn’t take you as a person to make a sex joke like that…I like it.”

——————

Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face.

”Helloooo? Earth to Y/N…You’ve been zoned out for like ten minutes, are you concussed or something?” You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance, noticing your palms were sweaty, and your pulse was pounding in your head.

”Sorry…I’m fine, I was just thinking about that last round in my head. Trying to figure out how I let my ass hit the mat again.” You lied, grabbing your water bottle, attempting to cool yourself down.

”Uh-huh…” Yelena muttered, clearly not buying it.

Bucky was watching you as well, his expression unreadable as usual, his elbow still propped on his knee. His eyes were sharper now, completely focused.

”Maybe we should wrap it up for the day, I’ve got to go pick up a few things from my old apartment anyways, the renters are getting mad that I haven’t swung by yet.” You looked over at Yelena, who stretched her legs out with a low groan.

“Alright, that sounds fine to me.” She responded, getting up from the bench, cracking her neck before walking to the lockers, leaving you and Bucky alone. You let out a soft exhale, grateful that the plug had been pulled. You were too distracted to go for another round anyways.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You glanced up at Bucky, your eyes meeting his gaze. There was no judgement in his face, just quiet concern. You nodded.

”Yeah, I promise, I just spaced out.” He watched you for just a moment longer, like he was trying to see if you had any tells of a lie.

”Alright,” He said, turning to grab his towel from the bench, “But if you ever want to talk, you know where I am.” You gave him a soft smile.

”Thanks, Buck.” He lingered for a second longer, then gave a quick salute and headed off after Yelena, leaving you alone. You stayed on the bench for a few minutes, gathering your thoughts and swatting around the brain fog that clouded your mind, before finally standing, feeling your muscles groan in protest.

You collected your things and caught a quick shower before making your way back to your room, expecting to divulge the line of questioning that Yelena had for you to Bob, but when you opened the door he wasn’t there. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you stepped into the room, noticing a little note on his bed. You dropped your bag on the floor, picking up the scrap piece of paper that had his messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“Meet me on the roof, wear a sweater.” You were confused about the sweater part, but you still dug around for one, slipping it over your head once you found one that wasn’t already worn.

———

The rooftop greeted you with silence, except for the low hum of wind and the muffled buzz of distant traffic below. You stepped out slowly, your sweater wrapped tight around your arms, the door clicking shut behind you.

Bob was already there, standing near the edge, hunched slightly, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders curled in like he was bracing against the cold—or maybe against himself. The soft yellow glow from the rooftop security lights carved gentle shadows across his back, catching in his wind blown hair.

“You okay?” You called out, walking towards him, gaining his attention instantly. A small smile came up on his lips, as he wrung his hands together, like he was excited about something.

“I am now,” He responded, meeting you halfway. There was something different about him tonight, he still had that shy uncertainty about him, but it was like he was pushing it off a bit, replacing it with something more…Confident, “I wanted to show you something, if that’s alright of course.” He added stepping into your space, now close enough that his breath was fanning over your face. You tilted your head at him, squinting playfully.

”Are you going to crack all the windows from up here?” Bob let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head as a pink flush creeped up the sides of his neck.

”I promised you I wouldn’t break any more windows, and I will keep my word.” Before you could press further, he stepped closer, closing the last inch of space between you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back. It wasn’t hurried or anything, just grounding, and it was done with intention. You inhaled against his chest, the scent of cold air and warm cotton surrounding you as he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your lips–soft, and gentle, yet brimming with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He pulled back for one moment, before adding one more peck against your lips, a smile draped across his mouth.

His arms hadn’t loosened around you, and you could feel the steady thumping of his heart under your hands where they rested against his chest.

”Okay…” You murmured, brows lifting at him, feeling your cheeks growing hot under his stare, and from the gentle kiss he had given you, “Now you really need to tell me what’s got you in such a chipper mood. You’re smiling like you’ve got a secret, and it’s starting to freak me out.” Bob’s grin widened–shy, crooked, but deeply earnest. You squinted at him a bit, catching little flecks of gold sparkling in the blues of his eyes.

”Just hold still,” He whispered, voice hushed and warm, “And I’ll show you.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he tightened his arms around you, like he was locking you into place against his chest.

Then you felt it.

A strange, delicate lift in your stomach, similar to how it feels when you’re descending on a roller coaster, only just a little more tolerable. The pressure in your knees disappeared, your weight lessened…And your boots weren’t on the rooftop anymore.

”Bob…?” You said, your voice filling with panic.

”Shh, I’ve got you,” He murmured, eyes fixating on yours, “Just trust me.” He whispered. You took in a sharp breath, and nodded. The movement wasn’t fast or jarring. It felt like being exhaled by the Earth–like rising through a warm, invisible current. The wind tugged gently at your sweater, and your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively brought yourself even closer to him, not daring to look down to see how high up you were.

“Holy shit Bob, we’re flying…” You said, your voice shaking, caught between fear and awe.

”Well technically I’m flying, and you’re just one of my lucky passengers. My first and only to be exact.” He corrected jokingly, you smirked at him, continuing to look over his face. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, as the air around you thickened, warming against your cheeks despite the altitude change. You felt like you were suspended in a dream–held against him, hundreds of feet off the ground, with only starlight above you, and a glittering city below.

“How does it feel?” You asked softly, seeing Bob blink down at you, eyes soft and uncertain, “To have all this power…” You added, your hand slowly unraveling from holding onto his hoodie, splaying it across his chest instead, rubbing along the warmth with a soft smile draped on your lips, “To be able to do this–to lift me off the ground, to break windows without touching them, to float above the world like it’s nothing…” The way you looked up at him–half curious, half lust driven–made something buzz in his bloodstream, something golden and chaotic, and desperate for attention as he felt your fingers trailing up the side of his neck.

Bob swallowed thickly, his arms tightening around your waist even more, his breath hitching as he let out a faint nervous laugh before glancing down at you, seeing your face glowing softly from the city lights that reflected in your eyes.

”It’s…Intense. I constantly have this noise in my head, like it’s trying to break out, and I’m always on edge trying to suppress it…But when you’re around, and you’re able to block it…I have those moments of peace, and I love it…So much Y/N.” He emphasized, as your fingers curled gently into the collar of his hoodie, while your other hand cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

”You know…I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” You whispered, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the night, “The way you handle everything, the way you care about being gentle, the way you hold back even when you could easily just let go…” You went on, looking up at him with such admiration it made him gulp down the lump that was forming in his throat, “You’re just incredible Bob…And I wish you believed that more often.” Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he needed to steady himself from the weight of your words, and when he opened them again, they shimmered with something so raw and fragile it made your heart ache.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just disbelief. “It feels like…You’re seeing someone I want to be. Someone I wish I was.” You reached up with your other hand now, pressing it against his cheek.

”You already are.” You whispered, a soft smile coming up onto your lips, as your eyes trailed over his face.

Bob leaned forward, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warming your skin as it mingled with the air that kissed your face. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, he just held you close, taking in the night for what it was giving him so far. His fingers twitched against your lower back, like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

“Can I ask you something…Kind of dumb?” Your lips quirked at his words, blinking up at him.

”There’s no dumb questions…Go ahead and ask.” He let out a nervous breath of a laugh, pulling his forehead off yours so he could get a better look at you, shaking his head a bit as if he was trying to psych himself up.

”I’ve been…Thinking for the past couple of days…And if it’s too soon or too much just–just tell me okay? I can handle it, I promise.” He started, stuttering through his words.

”Okay, “ You whispered, already feeling your heart climbing into your throat, seeing the way he looked at you with such hope, terror, and utter sincerity. He glanced away for a second, feeling his cheeks flushing hot.

“I was wondering if maybe–if it’s something you’d want–if I could, um…” He cleared his throat, then bit the inside of his cheek, finally whispering, “If I could make love to you tonight.” When the words fell from his mouth it felt like the sky was going to split open and swallow him whole, but he meant every word he said, and you could tell it was something that he wanted to make sure you wanted as well.

”I’ve been wanting to ask that for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin anything or scare you off, or…” His voice faded, as he stopped himself from embarrassing himself any further, “God, I sound like an idiot.” He whispered. You shook your head, cradling his face in your hands, gently tilting his head down so you could look into those soft blue eyes.

”Bob…” You whispered, “You don’t sound like an idiot at all…You sound like someone who cares about me. A lot.” His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but the words never came. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “And that’s never something to be ashamed of.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he trembled from the gust of wind that blew by the both of you, and from the nerves that prickled throughout his body.

”I just…” He started, swallowing another lump that began to form in his throat, feeling like he was on the brink of tears, “I’ve never done it like this before…Where it actually means something…Where I feel…So much that it scares the crap out of me.” You pressed your lips together tightly, removing one of your hands from his face.

”Hold me with one arm, I want you to give me one of your hands.” You instructed, and he obliged immediately, keeping you flush against him and giving you his other hand like you requested. You took it and brought it to your chest, laying it gently over your heart.

”Do you feel that?” You whispered, watching him nod slowly, his palm splaying flat over the pounding rhythm the shook the cavity of your chest, “That’s how I feel when I look at you…When you smile at me, when you hold me…When you ask me things like this, with all these nerves going through you…And that’s also how I’m going to feel when we make love tonight.” You added, feeling Bob’s breath hitch in his throat, and for a second he didn’t move. You thought you put him into shock, but then his fingers curled ever so slightly against your skin, like he was tethering himself to you.

”I wanna be good for you.” He replied, his voice breaking around the edges, “I want to be everything you deserve…I want to take my time…I want to see what you look like when you fall apart because of me, and I want to memorize every sound you make and every place you like to be touched and–and I want to hold you through all of it.” Your eyes softened at his words, feeling your heart folding at the edges from the way he said it with such trembling devotion, like he was offering you everything he had without knowing if it would be enough for you.

”I wouldn’t want it any other way Bob…” He breathed out slowly like he’d been holding it for minutes, like your answer reached someplace deep inside him he didn’t know was waiting to be filled. A small, shaky smile tugged at his lips.

“Okay,” He whispered. “Okay.”

You felt his arms shift, the weight of the wind returning to your skin, and together—slow and gentle—you began to drift back down. The city lights rose to meet you, the rooftop coming back into focus beneath your boots. He didn’t let go. Not even once. His hand stayed tucked between your shoulder blades, warm and steady, like he didn’t trust gravity alone to carry you safely.

The moment your feet touched solid ground again, you didn’t speak. You just stood there for a second, forehead still brushing his, eyes locked and dazed with something fragile and full and beautiful. And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed–it wasn’t even desperate…It was just full. Full of promise. Of understanding. Of anticipation humming low in both your bellies. His hand cupped the side of your face so delicately it made your knees weaken, and when he pulled back, you didn’t have to say a word. You just reached for his fingers and laced yours through them.

“Come inside with me,” You said quietly.

And he followed instantly.

————

You left the light on before you went up to the roof, so when the both of you stepped into your shared quarters, the soft yellow hue of the lamp greeted you with open arms and warmed your skin almost instantly.

Bob closed the door behind him with a soft click, the quiet thud echoing between your beds like a held breath. You stepped into the space between them, turning to face him slowly, your hands sliding up to push your hair from your face. His eyes followed the motion, catching every shift of your body like he didn’t want to miss a second, his fingers fumbling with the edge of his hoodie.

“H-How do you want to start?” He asked quietly, his voice threadbare with nerves. All confidence from the roof had dwindled pretty quickly once the reality of the situation really settled in, and now he could feel his chest tightening from the thought of what was going to come next. You could see it in the way he fumbled with whatever he could get his fingers on, it was the most obvious tell of his. You stepped toward him carefully, and held your hand out like you normally did with him.

”Come here,” You whispered. Bob didn’t hesitate this time around, taking a few steps towards you until you could curl your fingers around the hem of his hoodie, slipping your hands under the soft fabric so you could touch his burning skin. His jaw clenched for a moment at first contact, his lashes fluttering at the featherlight touch you always used with him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky breath against your mouth.

”We don’t have to start any particular way,” You murmured, “Just be here with me…” Bob gave a slow, trembling nod, bringing his hands to your waist. You leaned forward a bit, pressing your lips against his, taking his breath away in one quick moment of time. You could feel his shoulders loosen a little, as he sighed into you, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh gently, pulling your body closer to his. You broke the kiss first, removing your sweater quickly because you were growing warm extremely quickly, just like Bob you ran hot, but only when you were anticipating something, and this was definitely something you were looking forward to.

You threw the sweater to the side with a sigh, pushing your hair out of your face again as you adjusted yourself, seeing Bob’s eyes following your movements, and tracing over the skin that was revealed to him. The light camisole you wore hugged your figure just enough that he could make out the subtle shape of your breasts beneath it, and in the dimmed hue of the room he could see the way your nipples pebbled against the fabric. Before he could even stop himself, his fingers curled under the hem of the covering.

”Can I…?” His voice trailed off, looking down at you with dazed eyes. You nodded immediately, raising your arms up slightly, feeling the way he peeled the fabric up gently, wanting to drink in every inch of newly exposed skin. He slipped the camisole off you, throwing it to the side to join your sweater now, as his eyes returned to your bare chest.

For a second, it was like he didn’t breathe. His mouth parted slightly, and a stunned silence stretched between you before he managed to snap himself out of the trance your breasts had put him in, clearing his throat.

”You’re so…Beautiful. I mean–I already told you that, but seeing you like this–“ He cut himself off, looking down at himself, flustered, “Makes me feel overdressed.” You let out a small giggle, seeing the blush that crowded his face turn an even deeper red.

”Definitely overdressed.” You agreed, keeping your tone light, coaxing a nervous laugh from him. He ducked his head with a shy huff of breath, his hair falling into his eyes.

”S-Sorry. Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself, I just–“

“Hey,” You interrupted, reaching up to cup his face with both hands, forcing his gaze to stay on yours–his pupils already blown out from seeing your bare chest– as you ran your thumbs along his cheeks, “It’s okay…I like when you know what you want and ask for it. I also don’t mind being underdressed in front of you anyways. You don’t have to apologize, okay?” His lashes fluttered at you, as the tension in his shoulders melted just a little.

“Okay…” He whispered back, giving you a small nod, glancing down at himself. He pulled away from your touch, and with shaky hands, he reached for the zipper of his hoodie, tugging it down before peeling the garment off his arms and shoulders, letting it land in the soft pile of clothes that began to grow at your feet. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he hesitated for only a second more before pulling his plain grey t-shirt off as well, letting it join the abyss below.

The second the fabric cleared his torso, your hands were on him–warm palms pressing against bare skin, tracing up along his ribs and over the planes of his chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath your touch, before bringing them up to rest at his neck. You pulled him down to you, fingers curling into his hair gently, as his lips met yours. The kiss this time was deeper–hungrier and desperate. He opened his mouth to you, feeling your tongue slip in, as your bodies aligned with each other again.

His hand slid up along your side, tracing over your ribs, until it found the curve of your breast, cupping it gently within his large palm. You let out a small moan of approval, your hips shifting slightly at the sensation and shivers that twinged up your spine. His thumb dragged over your nipple, circling it slowly before giving the flesh a soft and careful squeeze, not wanting to be too rough at first, drawing out a hum from you, and another gentle pull of his hair.

Bob pulled away from the kiss with a shaky smile, before peppering kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, carving out a wet path all the way to your chest, going to the breast that he wasn’t kneading with his hand still. His lips brushed over your nipple, testing, and teasing, waiting until you leaned toward him to close his mouth around it. A soft moan escaped the both of you, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he sucked gently, his tongue moving in slow circles before fluttering along the peak. His other hand continued to palm and knead the other one, fingers teasing until both nipples were stiff beneath his attention. He switched sides, not wanting to neglect the other one, which earned another shocked gasp, feeling how more needy he was growing as he greedily sucked and nibbled. Your fingers laced deeper into his hair, trying to ground yourself when you felt your stomach somersaulting from the sensation of his tongue and mouth working in tandem together. Your words spilled out before you could really think–

“Jesus, Bob…” The moment you spoke he froze, pulling off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, lips shiny and slightly parted as he looked up at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes–God, his eyes–were wide and hazy, like he was drunk on you and the taste of your skin.

“Are…Are you okay?” You nodded immediately.

”More than okay.” You replied, as your fingers slid out from his hair to trail down his chest, moving with slow precision as you found the tie at the waistband of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze locked on his. You made quick work of it, undoing the knot in one swift pull before pushing at the fabric so it shifted down his hips, exposing more and more skin to you. He straightened up a little, taking his hand off your breast to push them off his legs completely, kicking them off to the side before mirroring your actions–going for your sweatpants too.

He bent down slightly to push them down your legs, and you took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from him, catching him off guard. The both of you broke into soft laughter, easing your nerves a bit. Once the sweatpants hit the ground you kicked them off your feet, letting them be banished with the rest of your clothes.

Now in just your underwear, the air between the both of you was thick with anticipation. Your breathing slowed, and deepend, syncing with his as he took you in–really absorbing every inch of skin he could see, battle wounds and all–his gaze lingering everywhere. You let your gaze fall for a moment, catching the shape of him beneath the soft cotton of his boxers. His erection was unmistakable, full and straining against the fabric, the outline was thick and defined, which made you nervous, but also excited. The image alone sent a pulse through your belly, and made your toes curl.

When you looked back up at him, he wasn’t staring at your body anymore, he was watching your face. His expression was so open, so filled with awe and admiration that it nearly made your breath catch in your chest. He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your jaw, his thumb running over the skin, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips, savouring the moment with a sigh.

Then, without saying a word his hand slipped from your face and slid around your back, while his other arm slid under your thighs, lifting you to him with ease. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carried you the short distance to his bed, throwing the duvet down to the foot of the bed, before lowering you down onto the cool sheets, letting the mattress form around your figure, pushing you up a bit so he could get on top of you.

Bob settled between your thighs with the softest exhale, like he was afraid to ruin the moment by moving too quickly. His knees sank into the mattress, feeling the way your legs guided him closer to you. His hands remained gentle–one braced beside your head, the other holding the side of your hip, absentmindedly tracing circles along it with his thumb.

You tilted your face up to him, and he dipped his head to meet your lips once again. The kiss was slower this time, deep with care and tenderness. You kissed him back with the heat of a thousand suns, your fingers slipping into his hair, pulling him a little closer as your body arched up into his. His hand on your hip drifted up your side, tickling your ribs with the ghosts of his fingertips, letting the intimacy of the moment wrap around you like a second skin.

Then, he pulled back slightly, just far enough to look at you–eyes searching, lips still parted, breath uneven against your mouth. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing idly over your ribs before he finally spoke.

”I-I want to go down on you,” He said quietly, as if the words were sacred to him. His voice was shaky, but you could tell it was just from the nerves that were pulsing through him in those moments, “I want to…Take care of you first…Want to show you how much I’ve been thinking about this…How much I’ve been thinking about you…If that’s okay?” Your heart thudded so loudly in your chest you swore he could hear it. The look on his face–open, vulnerable–was enough to make your breath catch. His words wrapped around you with such warmth that it rooted deep in your body.

You reached up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as you whispered.

”That’s more than okay.” He swallowed hard, and then nodded, giving you a small kiss, before drifting down your skin, his lips reaching every inch of you, peppering wet little marks across you, committing every detail to memory. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, brushing across the solid muscles of his back. He kissed your chest, then your ribs, all the way until he reached the edge of your underwear. He paused, lifting his gaze to yours again, just to be sure.

You gave him a small nod, watching his fingers hook under the fabric. He pulled the fabric down your hips, and thighs, as you helped him by pulling each leg out for him. He let out a sigh, looking at your completely bare figure beneath him now, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth for a brief moment before returning to where he was moments ago, putting your legs over his shoulders.

Bob leaned forward, brushing his mouth along your inner thigh, peppering kisses along the skin, memorizing the taste of your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. By the time he reached your core, you could feel your whole body pulsing against him, thrumming with anticipation and desperation.

When he finally brought his mouth to your core, he slowly licked upwards, wanting to savour the first time he got to actually taste you. The feeling of it caught you off guard, which drew a soft moan from your lips–broken and boarding on a whimper. His hands tightened at your thighs, holding you closer to him as he licked you again–more firmly this time–his tongue parting you gently, working up to circle around your clit without touching it quite yet. You closed your eyes tightly, reaching down to lace into his soft brown strands of hair. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every reaction that he coaxed out of you. When his mouth finally closed around your clit, your fingers in his hair tightened, hips rolling into him with a gasp.

“F-Fuck…Bob.” You choked out, and that was all he needed.

He groaned softly in response–just hearing your voice sounding so wrecked like that almost destroyed him–and he settled deeper between your thighs. He dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, curling it just right at the tip, then flicking it softly against you until your legs trembled around him. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently, then swirling his tongue with practiced rhythm, giving you just enough then pulling back slightly to tease again, letting you chase the pressure.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

”You…Holy fuck Bob…” You whined, not being able to find the words in your vocabulary because your brain was melting from the intense pressure that was building in your stomach. The way you said his name had him clutching at your thighs tighter, grounding himself as he buried his face against you more, like a man starved. He moaned softly, sending another wave of heat through your core, the vibration making you gasp. His tongue flicked, circled, and flattened, lavishing you with such deliberate devotions which drew you closer and closer to the edge.

He shifted slightly, and took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it between your thighs as he adjusted his other hand so it was splayed out along your belly. He traced his fingers through your wetness, dragging two of them along your entrance, teasing for just a second before gently slipping them inside. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you looked down at him, seeing how focused he was on pleasing you, his eyes glistening with such intensity that you felt like you were going to die.

His fingers moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the slight stretch they provided, before curling them slightly, finding the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed, crying out as your legs tightened around his head. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, he just groaned again, like your pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh my god–Bob–Bob please don’t stop…Don’t stop.” You begged, your voice breathless, and trembling on every syllable. Your fingers gripped his hair even tighter, as you felt the orgasm cresting with a pressure so intense it stole the air from your lungs. Your body was unraveling, and your muscles were tightening like a wire drawn taut. He felt it–he felt the way your walls began to pulse around his fingers, the way your hips started to jerk–and he doubled down, curling his fingers harder, sucking your clit in time with your shattering moans.

“Come for me,” He whispered against you, voice wrecked, barely audible but so sure. “Please. I want to feel it.” You broke apart beneath him with a cry, your thighs clamping around his head as your body seized, pleasure rocketing through you in waves so intense they left your limbs shaking. Your core pulsed around his fingers, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out the release, breath stuttering through sobs of ecstasy.

Bob held you through it, fingers still moving slowly inside you as his mouth gently eased off, switching to open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, grounding you, kissing you through the aftershocks. He watched your body tremble beneath him, his own breath ragged with awe.

Finally, when you dropped back onto the mattress with a long, shaky sigh, he pulled his fingers from you slowly, kissing your hip one more time before crawling up over your body. His skin was flushed, his mouth was wet and glistening with your arousal, and his eyes were glazed and dark with want–but there was so much tenderness in his face that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back to caress your cheek, his thumb running just below your eye.

”Are you okay? Did I–“ You cupped his face, and pulled him back down to you, kissing him again, interrupting the words that were about to fall out of his mouth. He let a soft moan against your lips, before you slowly pulled back.

”You did…Absolutely amazing Bob. So fucking amazing.” Bob’s breath hitched the moment you said it, and you watched the praise ripple through him like a tide, flooding his expression with something raw and deeply earnest. He looked almost overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of affirmation, but he was appreciative of it regardless.

You gave him a second to breathe, brushing his hair back gently from his flushed forehead as he hovered over you, gaze still fixed on your face like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then you tilted your head toward his ear, your voice soft and steady.

“My turn.”

Bob blinked, his lips parting slightly. “Y-You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” You cut him off gently, placing your palms on his chest and guiding him down onto his back. “I really want to.”

He let you maneuver him without resistance, collapsing onto the pillows as you crawled over him, straddling his thighs with slow, deliberate movements that kept his eyes trained on you. Your fingers trailed down his torso, grazing the firm lines of his chest and stomach, watching as his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

When you shifted lower, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, he let out a sharp breath.

“Wait—” He said quickly, sitting up on one elbow, using his other hand to catch your wrist. “I–shit–I want you to just–just use your hands, okay?” You blinked at him, a little surprised by the request and the sudden interruption.

“Why?” You asked gently. His face flushed harder, eyes dropping to the sheets for a second before he met your gaze again, voice low and a little sheepish.

”Because I’m gonna end up finishing too fast if you use your mouth..And I don’t want to finish unless it’s inside you.” He admitted, his breath unsteady. Your thighs flinched at his words, leaving you staggered. You weren’t expecting it, not from him. Not from soft-spoken, anxious, stammering Bob…But then again he had just given you the best orgasm in the world…So he did have a bit more of a wilder side to him that evidently he only reserved for you at this point.

”…Okay.” You whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more, before easing down his body again. Your fingers curled into the waistband of his boxers, and you eased them down his hips, eyes never leaving his as you exposed him to the cool air. His cock was thick and flushed, twitching slightly with need, already glistening at the tip with precum. The sight of him made your mouth go dry, and your stomach turn. You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, watching the way his jaw tightened at your touch, his head falling back against the pillow with a soft moan. Your hand moved in slow, steady strokes, twisting gently at the tip, your palm slick from how worked up he already was.

“Oh…Oh god you’re going to ruin me.” He rasped, breathlessly. You leaned over him, your free hand braced against his chest as you shifted to straddle his thighs properly. The weight of you over him made his eyes flutter open again. His hands went to your hips, as if just having you there made him feel steadier. Then without warning, he looked up at you with glassy eyes and spoke.

“C-Can I sit up against the headboard?” His voice was rough with need, but still gentle—like he didn’t want to disrupt the closeness, only deepen it.

You nodded immediately, helping guide him as he adjusted, both of you moving slowly so nothing between you was rushed. You cradled his shoulders as he shifted upward, his back settling against the cold wood of the headboard with a relieved exhale. The lamp’s soft glow painted his chest in gold, and his hair was a little messy from where your fingers had run through it, his mouth still parted as he looked at you with awe.

You straddled his lap again, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of him as he pulled you closer again. His head tilted forward and he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, lips finding your breast again like he needed it, sucking gently over the flesh, making sure to leave a mark before pausing to let his breath fan across your skin. All the while, your hand kept moving—slow, slick, steady. You felt him throb in your palm, the heat of him pulsing like a second heartbeat. You could hear him panting, but he didn’t tell you to stop, so you continued until he pulled back from your chest completely, his pupils blown wide with something molten in his expression.

”Y/N, spit in my mouth…” He whispered, “I want all of you…I want everything. I want you in every part of me…Please.” He added, his voice on the edge of a whimper. Your breath caught at his words, not from surprise or shock but from the vulnerability the words had to them. His need wasn’t crude…It was devotional, like it was the only way he knew how to show you how dedicated he was.

You nodded once, slowly, with your eyes locked on his. Your free hand came up to cradle his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye before gently tilting his head back, exposing his throat to you. He kept his gaze on you, wide-eyed and trembling as you leaned over him, still stroking his cock while doing so.

With your lips parted and breath warm, you let a slow, steady thread of saliva slip from your mouth–down past his lips and onto his waiting tongue. He didn’t flinch, he just accepted it with a shuddering breath, swallowing it right when it made contact. A flush bloomed even more across his neck and chest. You smiled down at him, seeing how satisfied he looked. He took a deep breath, then surged forward, one arm wrapping around your waist as he kissed you, open and warm, with his lips parting against yours like he wanted to thank you with his whole body.

You deepened the kiss, your chest pressing flush to his as he held you in his lap, the heat of his body radiating against yours like a shell. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, everywhere he could reach, but it wasn’t frantic—it was gentle and slow, like he was memorizing you by feeling alone. And then you pulled back, just enough to speak, your lips barely brushing his.

“I need you inside me.”

The words left you in a whisper, but they hit him like a lightning strike. Bob’s breath stuttered, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours—glazed, dazed, and swimming in something so deep it made your spine curl. He nodded, a little frantic, the motion jerky as he grasped at your hips again, steadying you, grounding himself.

“You sure?” He asked, drawing his brows together, his voice hoarse, wanting to be sure you were on board with this completely. You nodded, kissing him one more time.

”Never been more sure.” You adjusted your hips with care, steadying yourself as you guided him to your entrance, the tip of him hot and slick against you. Bob’s breath hitched, his fingers flexing hard at your waist as he tried to hold himself still, trying not to rush you. You watched his jaw tense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly began to sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he filled you completely.

The stretch made your thighs tremble and your breath catch, and Bob let out a strangled groan that vibrated through his whole chest. His head fell back against the headboard with a soft thump, eyes fluttering closed as he murmured something that sounded like your name paired with the words oh my God. You sat there a moment, your hands planted on his chest, letting your bodies adjust, feeling the twitch of him inside you, the way he was already pulsing with restraint.

And then you began to move.

It was slow at first, just the tiniest grind of your hips forward and back, your slick heat stroking along his length. His eyes cracked open, dazed and glassy, like he couldn’t believe this was real. He brought his hands to your hips, guiding you gently, letting you take what you needed at your own pace, and in your own way.

You moved together like a heartbeat–slow, steady, with increasing intensity.

Bob’s hands slid up your back, then down again to cup your ass, helping you ride him deeper, pushing you just enough to make your breath hitch with every descent. His moans became more frequent, low and helpless against your skin, and he whispered your name like a prayer, again and again, until it bled into the rhythm of your bodies.

“God–you feel so good–so so good,” he rasped against your neck. “I don’t think I can–oh shit–”

Your hips were moving faster now, desperation threading into every motion. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your quiet moans, and his ragged breathing. You felt like you were both on fire—burning, blindingly alive.

And then, suddenly, Bob shifted.

Without warning, he gripped your thighs and flipped you, your back hitting the mattress with a gasp. Before you could say anything, he was there—above you—sliding back into you in one fluid, aching thrust. You cried out, your hands gripping his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer.

Bob moaned softly, burying his face into your neck as his hips snapped forward with more force now, losing the gentle rhythm he had from before, exchanging it for something deeper, and more primal. One of his hands found yours and squeezed it tight, pressing it against the pillow beside your head, while the other shot out grip the headboard so he could brace himself.

And then the sound hit.

CRACK.

You barely registered it at first–you were too lost in the crescendo building inside your body, the way he filled you so perfectly, the way your name fell from his lips like he was worshiping you with every thrust. But his body shuddered on top of you, his hips jerking erratically now, the pace stuttering as he reached the edge.

“Oh God–God–Y/N–”

He moaned loudly, something close to a gasp punched from his lungs as his hips slammed into you one final time, and his whole body locked up. His hand crushed the top of the headboard–literally splintering the wood under his palm as he came inside you with a broken, breathless cry. You felt the wave of it, the way he pulsed deep inside, the warmth of him spilling into you, and it sent you hurtling over the edge too, your climax crashing through your limbs like a wave snapping every nerve awake. You cried out beneath him, your nails dragging down his back, your body seizing around him.

Bob collapsed, trembling, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot and wild against your collarbone. His hair was a complete mess, damp and tangled and wild across your skin. He was heavy and shaking, still buried inside you, both of you locked in the aftermath–too breathless to speak. You could feel his heart pounding against you–where his chest was pressed against yours.

Then slowly, you felt him lift his head from your shoulder, his cheeks a complete crimson now, lips parted as he gazed down at you with those shimmering blue eyes again, like he was trying to comprehend what just happened.

In those moments he leaned forward and kissed you, like he was saying thank you, or maybe he was trying to determine if this really was happening. You kissed him back with the same softness he gave you, your fingers pushing his hair back from his face. He sighed, and pulled back from your lips, his gaze raising slightly. You could see his mouth drop open slightly, and his eyes went wide.

”…What?” You asked, your brows drawing together in confusion. He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently reached up and tilted your chin, guiding your gaze upward–and that’s when you saw it.

A clean, jagged split ran right down the center of the wooden headboard. Splintered and cracked like lightning had struck it from above. Your mouth parted in shock, and for a beat neither of you said anything.

Then you laughed.

It started soft–with disbelief and surprise–but quickly turned into full, breathless giggles that made your body shake. Bob buried his face in your neck again, groaning quietly.

“At least we still have my bed to move to,” You teased, stroking his hair to calm him down from the embarrassment he was probably feeling. “But maybe we should…I don’t know…Get things that don’t break so easily?”

Bob groaned again into your skin, and you could hear the shy smile behind it. “Y-Yeah…Yeah, maybe,” He mumbled, barely audible.

You could feel the heat creeping back into his cheeks.

“Though…” He added after a pause, voice muffled and sheepish, “If sex is always gonna be like that… I-I don’t think it’ll matter what it’s made of…” You smirked, pushing him off his shoulder so you could look at him–and the adorable way he immediately avoided your gaze. Your heart swelled.

“Sounds like a good time to me,” You whispered, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

Eventually, you cleaned yourselves up, and shifted to your bed, sliding in under the fresh sheets, tucking yourselves into each other. Bob curled around you protectively, your bodies bare and warm together, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, nose buried into your hair. You fell asleep like that–saturated in the safety of each other, breath syncing, hearts still fluttering.

——————

The morning sunlight slipped gently into the room, illuminating the soft gold glow of the lamp you’d forgotten to turn off.

You were the first to stir.

Bob’s arms were still locked around you, holding you like he thought you might disappear. You turned in his embrace, resting your palm against his chest, letting your fingers trace lazy circles along his sternum, and the little scars that he had around that area that were barely noticeable. His eyes fluttered open not long after, blinking slowly until they found yours.

“Morning,” You whispered.

“Hi…” He whispered back, his voice gravelly from, as one hand moved to push your hair out of your face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “Of course I am.”

He returned a smile back to you, cupping your cheek gently before leaning in to kiss you–sleepy and sweet, his soft lips barely moving, while his nose brushed against yours. He pulled back slowly, letting his thumb trace your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it, with a sweet smirk.

”I could stay like this forever,” He murmured, trailing his touch down to the side of your neck, taking in the image of you in front of him, making sure he would remember this moment. You tilted your head into his hand, staring up at him with your heart pounding against your chest.

”Me too.” He grinned, just a little. The kind of grin that was half love-drunk and half processing the events that happened last night, then you remembered what you were going to talk to him about yesterday when you came back to the room, before you found his note.

”Hey I was actually going to tell you something when I came back to the room,” You began, already laughing at the story, seeing the way his attention was on you, hanging off of every word “During training yesterday evening, Yelena and Bucky gave me the third degree abo-“ Just as you were about to tell him you heard Yelena’s voice coming from an already opening door.

”Y/N, missed tra-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP!” You jolted, the covers pulling up to your chest as Bob yelped and scrambled to sit up behind you, wide-eyed and clutching the sheets. In the doorway, Yelena stood with her hands over her eyes, then immediately turned and bolted out again.

”I KNEW IT! BUCKY I TOLD YOU!” She yelled. The both of you glanced over at each other.

”…I’m assuming they gave you…The third degree about us?” Bob asked, finishing the sentence you were about to say before the interruption.

“Yeah…” You whispered under your breath, trying to suppress a laugh.

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woantohae · 2 months ago

Text

Close to you || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: AU! Where Yelena asks Y/N and Bucky for a big favor while they're on a mission: to save Robert Reynolds, a friend of hers. Thinking it would be an easy mission to carry out, they readily accept, only to be surprised to find that it won't be as they thought.

And Bob is nothing like he pretends to be.

Author's note: Hello! So this is basically a dream that I had last night and I couldn't not write it. I hope you enjoy it 💌

Content warnings: au! fanfic, fluff, curse words, void being a flirt kinda? (i know he's not like that in the comics, but a girl can dream), bucky and reader acting like sister and brother, bob having a soft spot for reader, shy! bob, hints of angst.

"What's his name again?"

"Robert Reynolds," Yelena says through Y/N's earpiece "They've had him there for a long time, and I promised to go get him once I knew his location."

Bucky prepares his weapons, his brows slightly furrowed, as he listens to the blonde through the communicator in his ear as well.

"Old friend or an ex from the past?" Bucky asks, to which Y/N smiles in amusement.

Yelena laughs sarcastically.

"Ha, ha, ha. Yeah," she says. "He's just a friend. I could never see him that way in my life, and he thinks the same. I'm not his type, anyway."

"We'll do our best, Yelena," the girl assures her, starting to walk with Bucky to the back entrance of the place.

Yelena thanks them, then leaves the duo on their own. They both act stealthily and cautiously to avoid being seen by the guards. Bucky is in charge of throwing a rope that sticks to the ceiling of the compound, giving it a couple of tugs to make sure it's secure.

The black-haired man watches her.

"You coming?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Of course," she begins to rise into the air with the ease of her powers. "See you up there."

Bucky complains and curses, while Y/N laughs. She is the first to reach the roof and waits a few seconds until the man reaches her side.

"Sometimes I forget you can fly," he says, letting go of the rope and letting it fall from the ceiling.

They start walking to the ventilation duct, which Bucky easily opens with his metal arm. He lets Y/N go through first, and she cautiously squeezes through the ventilation duct, complaining about the space in the process. With great care and effort, they begin to walk through the limited space until they reach the grate that leads to the lab where Robert was. The duo stays on their knees, crouching, peering through the grate, a bright orange light emanating from it.

"I think it's here," Bucky says, adjusting the weapon in the small backpack on his back.

"Do you know the plan?" Y/N nods as she peers through the grate, looking at a man lying on a stretcher in the fetal position. "You ready?"

"Are you?" He looks at her, to wich she confirms her answer with the movement of her fingers that open the metal grate.

Bucky is the first to go down, trying to make as little noise as possible, then raises his arms and embraces Y/N in them. They make sure no one is watching them, so they give Yelena the sign to lock the glass room they're in. Suddenly, the deafening sound of the metal doors slamming shut is heard, jarring the brunette awake, who falls off the stretcher and onto the floor.

"Ouch!" he groans.

Y/N walks over to him and crouches down to check on him. Bob's eyes are still closed from the impact, a look of grievance on his face.

"Are you Robert?" she asks, frowning.

Bob opens his eyes and finds himself staring at the girl in front of him.

He swallows and nods repeatedly.

"Yeah, yeah."

She smiles and brings her fingers to the communicator in her ear. "We got him, Yelena," she says triumphantly.

The brunette sits up, resting his elbows on the floor and looking at her with hope in his eyes. He remembers the blonde-haired girl who stood by him when he needed her most. Until Valentina's team managed to capture him again to continue turning him into their weapon. Time passed and his hope faded, but now a calm slowly invaded his being.

"Good job, guys. Thank you" says Yelena and the smile on her face can be heard through the earpiece.

Y/N looks back at Bob and gets up from the ground offering her hand to help him, which he accepts. Robert notices Bucky who is looking at him carefully and cautiously, alert to any sudden movement.

"Well, Robert. We need to go. Now," Y/N says.

Bob nods, not questioning her decision.

He feels the blue-eyed man's cold glare and swallows, suddenly feeling small; it's as if he hates him without even knowing him, and doesn't understand why. But he doesn't have time to continue questioning that, as a deafening alarm suddenly sounds. The metal doors begin to rise, revealing several guards pointing guns at them behind the glass.

"Shit," the girl curses and positions herself next to Bucky.

"I thought we had more time, Yelena," Bucky says, sounding exasperated.

"Fuck, I didn't think they'd discover us so quickly."

"Really? Well, they did," Bucky says, readying his weapon.

He signals Y/N with his hand, indicating the vent for them to leave. "Go, I'll distract them."

"Come on," she says taking Bob's arm —not thinking twice, the girl knows Bucky can take care of this on his own.

They move as quickly as they can.

"Can you get in?"

"I-I think so."

Y/N lets the brunette climb first, then pulls herself up and enters, feeling Bob help her by wrapping his arms around her waist. The pair crawl through the duct quickly until they reach the exit to the roof. Soon they both step out, but stop abruptly when it can be heard the sound of guns pointed at them. There are some guards who went up to the roof to catch them.

"Stop! Don't move!" one of them shouts.

Both Y/N and Bob raise their arms in surrender, until the girl decides to move her hands and take the guns from them, while Bob throws them away through the air, letting them fall while hearing their cries for help. She looks at him in surprise and raises an eyebrow, to which Bob glances at her, as if what he did was wrong.

"Wow, that was good."

Bob smiles and shrugs.

"Thank you. You too."

The moment of victory doesn't last long, as Bob feels something stinging his neck. He reaches for his neck and pulls out a dart, staring at it with a frown. The girl notices that one of the guards is left in the corner, and before he can attack them, she uses her powers to shot him with one of the guns that was on the ground.

"Fuck," Bob says.

Y/N's eyes widen and she reaches for him when she realizes he's about to faint. The girl's arms wrap around him as best she can and she tries to communicate with Bucky.

"Bucky, we have a problem here."

"Yeah, me too!" he replies, while she hears the bullets on the other side. "Do you think you can make it to the car?"

The girl looks down at Bob, who is unconscious, and considers her options. She can fly to the car without a problem, but she's never carried someone in her arms while doing so. However, Y/N would have to do it if she wanted to complete the mission.

She sighs and nods with her head, even if Bucky can't see her.

"Yeah, i can do that."

"I'll be there in a minute. I need to take care of something before. Be careful" he says the last thing in a concerned tone.

"I will. You too, Bucky" she asks.

Without waiting any longer, she grabs Bob's body in her arms and soars into the air until she reaches the car. She opens the door with a flick of her fingers —without needing the keys, and carefully puts Bob inside, then gets in the car and closes the door, checking that no one else is near the perimeter. Y/N catches her breath as she adjusts Bob's body so he's sitting in the car and she puts on his seatbelt.

Y/N brushes a strand of hair away that's falling from the man's forehead and looks at him, scanning the details of his calm face. But the calm doesn't last long because Bucky decides to jump into the car without a warning.

"Fuck, Bucky! What the hell!" she exclaims, feeling her heart race in shock.

"No time to yell at me! We have to go, now!" Bucky yells as he starts driving.

The black-haired man drives like there's no tomorrow, and they get as far away from the scene as possible, feeling the bullets hit the car, but the sound of an explosion steals their attention.

"Shit. That was you?" she asks, looking over her shoulder.

"I had to stop them somehow," Bucky says, his eyes fixed on the road.

"Not bad," she says, pouting and shrugging.

Bob slowly wakes up, opening his eyes and looking around.

"What happened?" he asks in a soft tone.

Y/N looks at him and smiles.

"Everything's okay. We managed to escape, don't worry," she comforts him in a soft tone, noticing how Bob's frown softens and she can see the relief on his face.

"Is everything okay back there?" he asks, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

Y/N nods, but the man abruptly turns the car to take a shortcut, causing Bob's body to move —and the brunette's face to land directly on Y/N's breasts.

"Fuck, sorry!" Bob says panicking.

Y/N feels a heat spread across her cheeks at what happened with Bob, even though she knows it was a complete accident. Unlike Bucky, who glares at him as he continues driving at top speed.

"Hey, it's okay," the girl says, and Bob immediately pulls away from her.

"You seemed to enjoy it, Robert," Bucky says in a serious tone.

"Bucky. Now's not the... Watch out!"

The car is hit by another vehicle, causing it to flip through the air. Y/N rushes to try to use her powers and stabilize it, bringing it back down to earth, only now they're upside down.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asks, groaning.

"I think so," she replies, looking at Bob, who's grimacing from the impact.

From one second to the next, the girl is yanked out of the car by someone, while Bob and Bucky shout at her to stop and let her go. One of the guards who managed to reach them grabs her by the hair and pulls her head back, putting a plastic syringe down her throat. If she makes a false move, he'll inject her with it.

"You're not that useful with your magnetic powers now, are you?" the guard says in her ear.

Bucky blows the driver's door open and immediately gets out, pointing a gun at him. Bob still hasn't gotten out of the car.

"Ah, easy there. I can inject this into her anytime if you shoot me, soldier."

Y/N looks at him, her eyes telling him not to do anything. Bucky clenches his jaw and lowers the gun, then drops it to the ground and raises his hands in surrender.

"We'll do this: you give me Reynolds, and also I take the girl with me, and no one gets hurt," he offers with a mocking smile.

"Eat shit," Bucky replies, gritting his teeth.

"Yeah, I don't think so," a voice identical to Bob's is heard.

The rest watch as Bob walks toward them slowly but surely, with a much darker and more confident aura than a few minutes ago when they rescued him.

"You're going to let her go, and then I'll take care of you so you never show up again," he assures, standing in front of the guard.

"How are you going to do that? Are you going to beat me up?" He laughs, and Bob just smirks.

The brunette stretches out an arm and uses his hand to make the guard choke suddenly, freeing Y/N, who is instantly rescued by Bucky. They both watch as Bob chokes the life out of the man without having to touch him, then disappears, leaving a dark, black trail on the ground.

The pair stares at him in perplexity, and he turns to look at them, specifically at Y/N, whom he approaches, standing in front of her.

"You're safe now," he says calmly.

A few months had passed since Bob had arrived at the home, greeted by Yelena, who was happy and relieved to see him alive.

The pair shared a unique connection and a friendship they had forged over the years since they met in the laboratory where they were subjected to a series of torture experiments. They had promised to seek each other out once they had found the location they were in. Although it had taken a while, they were now reunited.

The rest of the team had also welcomed him well and were getting to know him over the last few days to integrate him into the group.

Yelena had explained to them that Bob tended to have his good moments and his bad moments—like what happened with the guard when Y/N and Bucky rescued him. It was as if they'd possessed poor Bob, turning him into a more confident, powerful man with dark intentions. It wasn't that they judged him for that; everyone there had done things they regretted, but this was different. Something beyond their capabilities.

The rain was now pounding the roof of the compound. The ambient temperature was low, and every time Y/N blew air through her nose, she could see white steam rising from it. The girl had a cup of tea in her hands that relieved the cold a little, while she sipped it, appreciating the rainy landscape in front of her.

The house was completely silent, allowing only the soft sound of falling raindrops to be heard. It was the perfect weather and occasion, according to the girl; she could enjoy it all day with nothing to do and no one to interrupt her. John was spending time with his baby, Ava was on a first date with Yelena—the pair were getting to know each other much better after forming a team. Meanwhile, Alexei was working in his spare time as a limo driver to pay some bills, and Antonia had decided to step away from the group for a while to pursue her own business.

So the only people in the house were Bob, Y/N, and Bucky, the latter of whom was in an online meeting at the office with Sam.

Y/N watched through the window as Bob hurriedly ran into the house. She watched as Bob entered, shook his hair, trying to dry it, and then proceeded to take off his jacket and shirt, leaving his torso bare and unaware of Y/N's presence, who looked away.

"How was the gardening, Bob?"

"Oh, shit!" He froze and tried to cover his chest with his shirt "I'm so sorry. I thought I was alone"

She smiles amusedly, still holding her mug. She takes a sip and nods at the rain outside.

"Whenever it rains, I stay inside. It helps me disconnect from everything," she explains, while Bob nods, still holding the shirt to his chest.

Y/N raises an eyebrow and walks over to him, then places the mug on the table, standing face to face with the brunette.

"Need help? I can do the laundry, today." Bob swallows and shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh.

"You don't have to. It's my stuff."

She shrugs and shakes her head, tilting it as she looks at him. "I don't have a problem with that"

She seriously wants you, right now. Do something. Or I will.

Bob frowns slightly his eyebrows and shakes his head, trying to make him go away. But he knows it's not that easy.

Y/N places her hand on Bob's to encourage him to give her his clothes. Their eyes are on each other, and neither of them seems to want to look away. Bob is a bundle of nerves when he feels Y/N's touch.

"I've noticed you tend to ignore me," she says in a low tone.

Bob's eyes widen and he shakes his head, as if he's been caught in the act.

"No, no, no. I'm, well, I don't... I'm sorry if you felt that way." Bob tries to form a coherent sentence, but has trouble doing so, seeing how Y/N keeps looking at him with those bright eyes he often likes to find in a crowd "I didn't mean to, really. It's just you are incredible and pretty, and I just..... I don't know..."

Seeing the man's worried state, Y/N places a hand on his cheek to make him look at her.

"Easy, it's okay. I'm not mad about it," she says with a smile "I just wanna know why. I would love to get to know you better, actually".

"Really?" the brunette asks.

She nods and smiles sideways.

Bob stares down at Y/N's lips for a few seconds, thinking about how soft they look. He wonders what it feels like to kiss them, and this isn't the first time he's done it.

It wasn't anyone's surprise that Bob started to have feelings for the girl in front of him; he's sure it was the day they rescued him. It may have been immediate, but he couldn't deny the way his heart raced, and it didn't even match how it felt when he was drugged or experimented on. This was better and more powerful, a feeling he craved every chance he got.

Y/N felt the same way about Bob. She found him handsome, sweet, and warm to be around. Lately, she'd been trying to give him hints that she was attracted to him, but the man never noticed. Maybe he was too oblivious, because he was pretty much the only person in the team who didn't seemed to noticed. The first to notice this undeniable attraction was Yelena. She constantly teased them by the looks the pair gave each other, and how they reacted when they heard each other's names in a conversation.

They wouldn't get away with it that easily.

"I, uh... think you're pretty," he blurts out. "And you make me nervous because you're wonderful. In every aspect of the word. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of you or look at you, hoping you'll return my gaze".

She looks at him dearly, feeling her heart race. In a nice way.

"And maybe it's silly, but whenever I'm around you, I feel at peace," he says sincerely. "And I haven't felt that way in a long time."

Can you be more pathetic about it? Just kiss her already!

God damn it, shut up.

Bob falls silent at the sight of her expression and thinks he's screwed up, so before he can explain, or even try to, he feels Y/N grab the back of his neck and pull him closer for a kiss. He's surprised but lets go, letting go of the shirt from his hands to hug her waist, while Y/N rests her hands on his broad shoulders and they continue moving their lips in sync.

Bob doesn't want this moment to end because he thinks he's dreaming, so he wraps his arms around the girl's body to pull her closer to him, feeling that voice in his head bothering him once again.

Just like that, her lips feel good, don't they?

Bob growls when he feels Y/N's hands caresing his chest, feeling the coldness of her fingers. Their moment is interrupted by someone clearing their throat as they enter the room.

The two of them separate from eachother. Y/N lowers her gaze and bites her lip, while Bob alertly stares at Bucky, who looks at him seriously.

"I'll just say you two should go to a room if this goes any further. We don't want this to be any more awkward than it is," Bucky says, going to the kitchen to get a cup and start making some coffee.

Y/N pats Bob's chest, and he looks at her, then follows her like a puppy.

"You don't have to be such an asshole," Y/N pinches Bucky's arm as she walks past him.

"It's my duty as your friend."

"Looks more like a brother, kinda stuff," Y/N says, taking Bob's hand and leading him to his room.

"Use protection!" Bucky warns.

Oh, we will.

Bob internally scolds himself as he hears Void invade his mind for a moment. Y/N laughs in amusement at Bob's reaction, stopping him in the middle of the hallway, just in front of her room.

"We don't have to do anything," she clarifies, and she sees how he relaxes a little.

"But I'd like to spend a little more time together. If that's okay with you."

Bob smiles and nods.

"I'd like that too."

Damn, Bob. We miss the fun part.

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #fanfic #marvel #thunderbolts #sentry masterlist #sentry x reader #the void x reader #robert reynolds masterlist #writers on tumblr #writing

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shyoko · 2 months ago

Text

✧ Making his silent girlfriend loud ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.)

✦ 2.8K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃

enhypen x fem!reader ⚠️ cw: nsfw / +18, overstimulation, rough sex, oral (f), impact play, light bondage, dom!vibes, multiple orgasms, crying, degradation + praise, toys, etc. minors dni. read responsibly.

✧ Heeseung ----------

Heeseung had you naked, lying on your back, your body glistening with sweat, your legs spread wide and trembling. You’d already cum. Twice. But he wasn’t planning to stop.

"Shhh, I know, I know..." He whispered as his tongue slowly slid across your clit, once again. "But you said you were enjoying it… so why are you biting your lip now?"

His fingers kept you open, exposed, completely vulnerable, while his tongue moved in slow, precise circles—so exact that your body jolted with every pass.

"Still trying to hold back? Really?" His voice dropped, darker. "I’m wrecking myself just to make you feel everything… and you're still so fucking quiet."

He sucked on your clit harder, making your hips jerk off the mattress. A high, broken moan tore from your lips.

"That." "That’s what I wanted from the beginning."

Then… he intensified everything.

Two fingers slipped inside you, wet, expert. He started thrusting them in rhythm with his tongue, which never slowed, never eased, never gave you a second of rest.

Your body couldn’t take it.

You were panting, moaning loud, eyes brimming with tears, your legs trying to close on instinct.

But Heeseung held you open firmly. "No. None of that. Stay wide for me." "You’re gonna cum all over me, baby. You’re gonna give it to me, even if I leave you shaking for days."

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, pressing you down into the mattress as he kept sucking your clit hungrily, his fingers fucking you faster, deeper.

Your moans turned into screams. Your body arched, broke apart—you came hard, a brutal orgasm shaking you to your core… and it didn’t stop there.

Because he didn’t stop.

"Again. I’m not done with you." "You're gonna scream until your voice gives out."

You kept dripping, your body twitching, his mouth chasing every wave of pleasure, giving you more, forcing another orgasm. And another. And another.

Your voice was nothing but his name, repeated between sobs and whimpers. Your skin burned, your legs refused to move, and still, he kept going like it was the first time he touched you.

"That’s it. Fall apart for me, baby." "I want every part of your body to remember my name."

✧ Jay ----------

You were in his lap, completely naked on top of his clothed thigh, his pants still buttoned—fabric pressing rough against your burning skin. His thigh beneath you, solid, flexed, ready.

Jay had one hand on your lower back, guiding you in slow, lazy movements.

"You know what drives me crazy about you?" His deep voice brushed against your ear, warm and dark. "You’re always so quiet. So… contained."

His other hand slid up to your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, heavy, commanding.

"You’re grinding on my thigh, naked, dripping wet… and not a single fucking sound has come out of you."

Your hips kept moving, seeking friction. Your lips parted, but no sound dared escape. The heat in your core was rising too fast to handle.

"Look at how much you’re soaking my pants." His tone was teasing, but full of lust. "And you’re still trying to keep it in. What do I have to do to make you give me everything, baby?"

He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you down harder onto his thigh, making the fabric rub directly against your clit. You trembled.

"You wanna cum like this, pretty girl?"

You nodded desperately, eyes pleading, your nails digging into his shoulders.

But he shook his head, a dark smile spreading on his face.

"Then moan." "Moan for me. Tell me with your voice. I’m not letting you cum until I hear it."

Your entire body trembled. You were burning inside, but still, your throat refused to betray you.

Jay clicked his tongue. "Alright then." "None of this."

He slowly lifted his leg, pulling away the only thing you needed. The moan that left your mouth was raw, involuntary, broken.

"There it is." His smile widened. "So cute when you finally sound like what you are… a desperate little baby for me."

He slammed his leg back down under you, and the sudden contact made you cry out, loud, raw, your body giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

"That’s it, baby. Now we’re talking." "Fall apart. Soak my thigh. Scream my name if you need to."

Your voice could no longer be contained. Each movement against his thigh tore out moans, whimpers, cries—his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

You came hard, thighs shaking, body arched in ecstasy.

Jay held you tight, murmuring into your ear:

"That’s what I like." "That voice is mine… and I want all of it tonight."

✧ Jake ----------

You were on top of him, riding him slow, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moans were barely audible, just soft breaths every now and then.

Jake’s hands were on your hips, guiding your rhythm gently, his bright gaze locked on yours.

"You okay, baby?" His voice was soft, sincere, brushing over your skin like a caress.

You nodded, biting your lip to hold in the sound that burned inside your throat. And he saw it. He knew.

"Oh… now I get it."

He sat up, your chests pressing together, his mouth brushing your ear.

"You’re trying to stay quiet." His tone shifted—lower, darker, filthy. "Why? Don’t you want me to hear how good I’m making you feel?"

His hand slid down your back, and suddenly—a sharp slap to your ass, firm, loud, precise.

Your body jolted. A soft moan slipped out before you could catch it.

Jake smiled.

"There it is. That sound… so fucking sexy."

He grabbed the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his.

"Don’t hide it from me, yeah?" "I want every sound. Every moan. Every scream you’ve been swallowing."

His hips started moving under you. Now he was fucking up into you from below, deep, hard, relentless. His cock hit every spot that shattered you from the inside.

"C’mon, pretty girl. Make noise for me. Be good and let go."

Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your breath came in shaky pants. Moans started spilling from your lips, breaking the air.

"That’s it." "That’s what I want. For you to forget all your control."

He held you tighter, fucking up into you faster, until you could barely stay upright on him.

"You know what happens if you don’t moan, right?" "I’ll make you cum so many times, you’ll have no choice but to scream."

And he did.

You came uncontrollably, your voice shattered, body shaking, screaming his name like it was the only thing you knew.

Jake didn’t stop. He wrapped his arms around you, kissed your neck, and whispered:

"You’re my quiet girl… but only until I touch you."

✧ Sunghoon ----------

Your legs were trembling with every thrust, your body slick with sweat against the sheets as Sunghoon buried himself inside you with a precision that bordered on insanity.

The sound of sex filled the room—skin on skin, breathless panting… but your lips stayed closed.

And he noticed.

"Again?" His voice came low, laced with disappointment. "You’re really gonna keep hiding those moans from me?"

You couldn’t answer. You just clung to the sheets, jaw clenched, swallowing every sound threatening to break free.

"No."

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and gasping from the abrupt loss. Before you could process it, his hand came down hard, straight to your clit—sharp, loud, deliberate. The shock was electric, a jolt that made you scream instantly.

"That’s what I want." His voice was dry. Dominant. "That trembling mouth. That body twisting. Don’t ever hide that from me again."

And without giving you time to breathe, he slammed back into you, harder, faster, like he was trying to break the silence with sheer, brutal pleasure.

Every thrust was full of purpose. Contained rage. Wild need.

"Your body begs me with every fucking moan you try to bury." "Don’t you get it? This doesn’t end until you stop thinking and start screaming."

His hips pounded into yours relentlessly, pelvis crashing right against your clit, his hand coming down again—another slap, sharp, filthy, cruel—and this time, the moan that escaped your lips was a desperate cry, shattered and loud.

"That’s it, baby. You’re starting to give in." "Your silence is gone. Now you’re mine with every sound you make."

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation—but he spread them again, gripping them tight, thrusting even deeper.

"Don’t close them. I want to see you break for me."

And you did.

You came with a scream, your name turned into a silent cry, your body arching, trembling, sweating, and crying from sheer pleasure.

Sunghoon looked down at you, panting, eyes blazing.

"That’s what I like." "And if you ever try to stay quiet again… I’ll make you scream so hard you won’t be able to talk the next day."

✧ Sunoo ----------

You were naked on the bed, your back against soft sheets while Sunoo settled between your legs, still fully clothed. His eyes trailed down your body with adoration… and a dangerously sharp hunger.

His fingers traced slow paths along your abdomen, climbing up to your chest, stopping right at your nipples.

"You know what drives me insane about you?"

He brushed them with his fingertips, barely grazing, and still, a shiver rushed down your spine.

"You’re so fucking quiet… but your nipples give it all away." His voice was like sweet poison—gentle, smooth… lethal. "So hard for me. So sensitive. And you’re still pretending you’re in control."

Without warning, his mouth dropped to one nipple, warm tongue circling the exact spot that made your vision blur. He sucked slow and deep, while his other hand pinched the other one—firm, precise.

A stifled moan escaped you, but you still fought to keep it down.

"Still resisting?" He looked up at you from below, his mouth wet with sinful devotion. "You really think you can stay quiet while I ruin you from right here?"

He kept going—licking, sucking, lightly biting, playing with your nipples like they were his personal obsession. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled down between your legs.

One finger slid inside. Then two. Slow, steady. The rhythm was exact. Destructive. Addictive.

"You’re dripping, baby. All of this… just from how I suck your tits."

He bit down gently on one nipple, then harder, just enough to make you moan, your body jolting as his fingers picked up speed.

"There it is." "That voice. That sound that drives me crazy."

He returned to your chest, rougher now, tongue swirling, lips sucking until your skin was red and throbbing. Then he switched to the other side, not giving you a second to breathe.

"You’re gonna cum just from this, aren’t you?"

And you knew it. Your legs trembled, your stomach tightened, your moans came free and wild. Your nipples burned, overstimulated, lit up with every flick of his tongue.

"Scream my name." "Do it while your body breaks for me."

And you did.

You came with a raw cry, back arched, nipples aching, his fingers still buried inside you, his mouth still worshiping your chest.

Sunoo crawled up to kiss you, his tongue just as sweet and deep as the way he broke you, and whispered against your lips:

"My quiet little baby… not so quiet now, huh?"

✧ Jungwon ----------

You were sitting on his desk, the lights in his room off except for the soft glow of his lamp. Your underwear already on the floor, your legs spread apart by his steady hands, and him standing between them, unbuttoning his pants with a desperate calmness.

Jungwon still had his shirt on, open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His eyes, dark, devoured you without touching you yet.

"Why do you always hold on, mm?"

His voice was a whisper laden with sweet menace as he stroked your thigh with his thumb.

“So pretty, so good...but so quiet.”

He slid the head of his cock across your pussy , gathering the wetness that awaited him. The contact made you let out a low, almost muted moan.

"This is for me, isn't it? All this dripping sweetness..."

He pushed you gently against the wood of the desk, your back arching reflexively.

“No, no, no.”

"Today you're not going to be quiet. Today you're going to scream."

And then, he buried himself in you. All at once. Slow, deep, without pause.

A choked gasp escaped you, but you still clung to the silence.

"Are you going to make me work for every fucking sound of yours?"

He grabbed your neck with gentle pressure, lifting your face to his.

"Perfect. I will."

His hips began to move. Rhythmic. Steady. Precise.

Each lunge went in deeper than the last, her eyes locked on you as your body began to surrender.

"That's it. You're starting to break, can you feel it?"

"Your body can no longer hide what it wants."

He squeezed your waist tighter, picking up the pace. Your mouth opened instinctively, letting out moans you didn't even know you could make.

"Like this. That's how I want you. I want you to let it all out. Every little noise, every gasp, every scream."

Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your legs trembled, your chest rose and fell hard.

"That's it, baby. Give it to me."

"Don't stop. Let go. I want to hear you beg me without words."

Your body exploded without warning. Your orgasm broke you with a choked cry, your name and his mingled in moans as you clung to him as if he was the only thing holding you.

But Jungwon didn't stop.

"See?"

"You're not so quiet when you're being well taken care of."

He pushed harder, deeper, faster. He was fucking you with a rhythm that no longer sought only pleasure-he sought to leave you scarred, toneless, broken with love and desire.

“And we're not done yet, beautiful.”

"I'm going to get every sound out of you that you've hidden since we met...and more."

✧ Ni-ki ----------

Your wrists were tied to the headboard with his belt, the firm leather biting into your skin every time you moved. Ni-ki was kneeling between your legs, still clothed, with that dangerous smile you knew so well.

“We can stay here all day, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky and his tone so low it made your skin bristle.

“This isn't over until you let out every sound you've been hiding.”

He picked up the small vibrator and turned it on. The buzz was like a promise in the air, and when he positioned it directly over your clit, a shuddering gasp escaped your lips.

But it wasn't enough. Not for him.

"That's it?"

He let out a soft laugh, laden with mockery, as his dark gaze bore into yours.

"Come on, baby. I know you can do better. Much better."

And then he lowered his head, and without giving you time to beg, his tongue came down on you with searing intensity.

Two fingers plunged inside you, precise, impatient, at the same pace as his mouth devoured your center with obsession. Every suction, every swirl of her tongue, every lunge of his fingers... everything was designed to break you.

And it did.

He was shaking you. He'd drag you to the edge.

And he wouldn't take his eyes off your face.

“Look at you...” he murmured between licks.

“You're a beautiful mess.”

You pulled at his belt hard, the leather straining tighter against your wrists. Your legs trembled, your voice threatening to come out, and he knew it. He wanted it. He demanded it.

His fingers found that exact spot that made you look white. A long moan escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“You're shaking, wet, moaning...”

“And you still dare to say you're not loud?”

He dropped the vibrator to the mattress carelessly, and brought one hand up to squeeze your cheeks, parting your lips with his fingers, forcing your mouth open.

“You're not going to hide another fucking sound.”

“I want to hear the whole of you.”

And you did.

The moans came out uncontrolled, raw, desperate. Your body arched, your hips sought more, your eyes rolled back as you cum on his fingers and tongue unable to stop yourself.

“Ni-ki... it's too much... Fuck!”

His name came out of you like a dirty prayer, repeated through tears of pleasure.

“You're so fucking beautiful when you can't stop screaming.”

Your voice sounded satisfied, lustful, as if you'd found your drug of choice.

You came hard, your body undone, dripping, still trapped in his fingers as he watched you from below as if worshipping you.

And when at last your muscles stopped trembling, he slowly climbed up, cupped your face with both hands, and left a soft kiss on your forehead, like a sweet punishment after so much destruction.

"You did so well for me, my pretty girl."

✦N/a: Sorry for leaving you for so long!! 😭 I love you all so much, I hope you liked it.

✦Taglist : @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss

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sixeyesonathiel · 1 month ago

Text

BITE YOUR TONGUE, I LIKE IT BETTER BLOODY

pairing: bully satoru x manipulative reader

synopsis — gojo satoru hates you. you smile too sweetly, lie too easily, and wear your innocence like armor. he’s known you forever—known how sharp your claws are beneath the lace. but no one else sees it. no one but him. and when he throws milk at your head in front of the whole cafeteria, he swears it’s just hate. but behind stairwells and bitten lips, hate starts to taste a lot like want.

tags: enemies with benefits, public humiliation, dubcon elements (consent is a blurry concept when you're both assholes), manipulation, obsession, power imbalance, mutual degradation, possessiveness, toxic dynamic, satoru is an asshole, reader is worse, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, swallowing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie. 5.8k wc, MDNI.

a/n: another very detailed explicit smut because you guys loved shy reader sucking the soul out of frat!gojo. no thoughts, just enemies rawdogging behind the gym stairs. plot? not here. soulmates? unfortunately. enjoy the filth before i drop my wordcount-heavy apothecary diaries au this week :3

satoru gojo despises your guts.

he makes sure you know it, too.

"oops," he says, voice dripping with false sympathy just before the milk carton arcs clean through the air and smacks the back of your head. it bursts on impact, cold and humiliating, soaking into your blouse and turning it nearly see-through. thin cotton clings to your skin—your shoulder blades, the curve of your spine, the delicate outline of lace beneath. the chill bites into your nerves, crawling down your spine like a taunt.

there's a beat. the cafeteria shifts. chatter falters. a few heads turn. someone drops a fork.

you stiffen just for a second. one inhale held too long. then your hand rises to touch your hair, wet and dripping. you blink slowly, lashes damp, before pasting on the kind of smile reserved for misunderstandings and small kindnesses. your lips tremble—not from emotion, but as if suppressing laughter. like you’re charmed by the absurdity of it all.

"my hand slipped," satoru adds from behind, leaning one elbow on the table like he's bored. his tie's loose, shirt half untucked, and the sleeves rolled high enough to show veined forearms. his white hair falls just enough to cast a faint shadow over one eye. he grins, tongue pressing to his cheek, teeth catching on the corner of his lower lip like he's chewing the inside of it. there’s milk on his fingers. he wipes it on his slacks. "maybe don’t stand around like a target next time, princess."

he calls you that like it’s a slur.

someone snorts into their lunch tray. a few others glance up with vague concern, but not enough to intervene. not enough to think it's serious.

you turn with a lightness that's infuriating. wet hair clinging to your cheek, uniform plastered to your back. you look ridiculous—soaked and humiliated—and yet you smile. your fingers trail delicately down your blouse like you’re inspecting damage on fine silk.

"that’s alright, satoru," you say sweetly, as if he’d bumped into you in the hallway. your voice is soft, gentle as a hand on a child’s head. "you’ve always had poor coordination."

a few students murmur agreement. someone chuckles. the tension breaks. someone tosses a crumpled napkin toward the bin, missing it entirely.

but not for him.

he watches the twitch of your lip—the briefest break in the mask that no one else sees. no one but him. and that’s what drives him insane.

because he’s known you since kindergarten. known the tantrums, the fights, the scratches behind school buildings. he remembers how you’d corner some poor kid together—mocking, poking, stealing snacks—and how when the teacher showed up, you’d burst into tears and point at him with trembling fingers. he was the bad one. the instigator. the boy who made girls cry. even when your hands were just as dirty. maybe worse.

you’ve always been like this: clever, calculating, cruel in lace and smiles.

and he hates that no one sees it but him.

hates how you float through school like some porcelain saint. all soft glances and kindnesses, like you’re too sweet to harm a fly. how you apologize so readily, voice thick with false guilt. how even your sighs are delicate things, like spun sugar on the tongue.

but he knows. and he won’t let you forget that he knows.

you dab your temple with a napkin, offer a small bow to the room, then walk away. every step deliberate. he watches the way your skirt sways, the soft slap of your wet shoes, the curve of your back visible beneath the soaked fabric. it’s obscene. like you’re doing it on purpose. he knows you are.

his throat tightens. his pants do, too.

fuck.

he shifts, pressing his palm into the table edge to ground himself. his cock throbs anyway. he glances down, jaw ticking, leg bouncing under the table. his tongue flicks over his teeth. he rubs his thumb against the edge of the bench, imagining it’s your pulse.

he hates you.

he hates how every time you laugh, it turns heads. how nanami makes you smile in that quiet way that you don’t give him. how your voice turns feather-soft when you're being praised, how you say “thank you” with bowed lashes and an angel’s lilt. how you look at others like you’re grateful they exist, and how you look at him like you’re grateful he’s suffering.

he hates that you let everyone believe you’re good.

and he hates that you are good—at lying. at playing them. at leaving him hard in the middle of class after pressing a note into his hand that simply read don’t forget to beg.

he still has that note. it’s tucked into the back of his physics notebook, creased and fingerprint-smudged. he looked at it three times yesterday. once during morning announcements. once after gym. once when you passed him a pencil and your fingers brushed.

he’s not even close to done.

not when you keep pushing him to the edge with every infuriating smile, every light laugh shared with someone else. not when your lip gloss tastes like strawberries, and he knows because he tasted it once. in a stairwell. two weeks ago. you kissed him like it meant nothing. then walked away before he could say a word.

he hates you.

and he wants you so fucking bad it makes him sick.

later, behind the gym stairwell—where the walls reek of sweat, rubber soles, and old water—you find him.

there's a hum in the silence, the kind that rings inside your skull. your footsteps echo first, then stop. only the hush of your breath now, quiet and deliberate, like a secret begging to be found.

he’s already there—slouched against the wall like he’s waiting for something violent. one leg bent, heel hooked behind him, the other stretched out, foot tapping a restless beat against the cracked concrete.

he’s still in his uniform, shirt untucked, collar damp with sweat. the sleeves are rolled up, exposing long forearms slick with effort. his knuckles are red from earlier. a faint bruise darkens near his jaw from sparring. pale strands messily raked back like he’s run his hands through it one too many times. sunglasses gone. his eyes, sharp as cut glass, track your approach with slow disdain.

you take him in, shamelessly running your gaze from his tousled hair to the veins snaking up his forearms, the taut muscles in his chest straining against the fabric of his shirt. your eyes trace the line of his jaw, the subtle flex of his neck, and you feel the heat in your own chest rise at the sight.

something about the way he looks—disheveled, dangerous, and all too aware of his own effect on you—sends a pulse of heat straight through your veins.

he pops a pink lollipop from his mouth, tongue dragging lazily over it before he crushes it between his teeth. the sound snaps the tension like a whip.

“you’re hard,” you murmur, voice syrupy-sweet, almost innocent. almost.

he doesn’t flinch, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. his eyes drop—low, deliberate—then crawl back up your body like a threat, heat simmering beneath his gaze. his lips part, then press together tight, as if reining something in.

“don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters, but his voice cracks—taut and ragged, like it’s been dragged through too many thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

you tilt your head, lips curling into something too tender to be kind. “too late,” you coo. “you threw milk at my head and came in your pants about it.”

you look pristine—hair ribboned neatly, lip gloss shimmering under the harsh light, skin flawless like lacquered porcelain. beautiful. breakable. except your eyes gleam with something wicked, mean little stars dancing in a galaxy made just for him.

his fists clench at his sides. one thigh shifts, an involuntary twitch. he breathes out too sharp through his nose, like trying to exhale the want.

“you’re such a fucking brat,” he bites, but his voice stumbles on the edge of something more desperate, less controlled.

you only smile wider, slow and knowing, lashes fluttering as you step forward and then lower yourself to your knees. not in surrender. never that. it’s worship with teeth—dangerous, deliberate. your skirts spread around you like spilled sin. the way you look up at him is reverent and ruinous.

his entire body tightens, chest rising like he’s been starved of oxygen. the bulge in his pants throbs with restraint. his hand flinches at his side, like he’s debating whether to reach for you or himself.

you reach first.

he snatches your wrist mid-motion, fingers locking around your pulse with bruising pressure. his touch is trembling, barely keeping it together. his pupils are blown wide, breath shuddering.

you tilt your head, all mock-concern. your voice is honey-laced poison. “you gonna cry?” you whisper. “go on, satoru. tell them i bullied you.”

his lip curls—not quite a smirk, not quite a snarl. a flash of teeth, predatory and unsure. “you’re not in control.”

“then prove it.”

you move slowly, deliberately, fingers curling around the buckle of his belt, the leather cool and smooth under your touch. the scrape of it sliding free pierces the stairwell’s silence, sharp as a blade, bouncing off the concrete like a warning. your knuckles graze the taut fabric of his pants, a fleeting brush that draws a quick, jagged breath from him, raw and unguarded. he’s already throbbing, his cock straining against the material, a dark stain spreading where precum seeps through.

your fingertips linger, pressing just enough to feel the heat pouring off him, the pulse of his desire thrumming against your skin. his legs stiffen, muscles coiling under his slacks, and his hands flex at his sides, curling into loose fists before easing, like he’s wrestling with the urge to touch you.

when you free him, easing the zipper down with a slo I'mw, intentional drag, his cock springs out, flushed a furious red, veins stark, the tip glossy with precum that beads and drips, catching the dim fluorescent light. satoru hisses, shoulders curling inward, the motion abrupt, like he’s been struck. his jaw locks, a tendon pulsing under the skin, and his throat works as he swallows hard, the motion visible. his ice-blue eyes flick down to you, pupils dilated, but they skitter away—to the wall, the ceiling—like he’s dodging your gaze, afraid of what it might cost him to linger.

“pathetic,” you murmur, voice low, barely above a whisper, laced with venom. your hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingers coated in his precum, gripping just enough to make him jerk, a ripple coursing through his frame. you don’t say more—words feel redundant, your focus honed on the weight of him in your palm, the feverish heat, the way he pulses under your touch.

his hand darts to your hair, fingers knotting in the strands, tugging your head back with a force that steals your breath, throat exposed to the cool air. “watch it,” he growls, voice guttural, scraping like he’s dragging it over broken glass.

and yet his thumb brushes your cheek, a fleeting, unsteady graze, soft against the snarl. his hips inch forward, cock nudging closer to your lips, needy, unguarded. his other hand clamps onto the wall behind him, knuckles paling, nails gouging the chipped paint. his chest heaves unevenly, shirt stretching across his pecs, sweat beading at the base of his throat, catching the light.

you don’t respond. your lips curve into a faint, wicked smile, eyes fixed on his cock, hunger consuming you. your tongue darts out, barely skimming the head—a cruel, calculated tease that sends a jolt through him, his legs quivering under the strain.

his reaction is instant, a choked, guttural sound ripping from his throat, raw and fractured. his head snaps back against the concrete, the dull thud echoing, white hair glinting as it spills messily over his eyes. his jaw tightens, lips parting, tongue pressing to his palate like he’s swallowing a curse. his eyes snap shut briefly, lashes stark against his flushed cheeks, then flare open, wild and unfocused, pupils swallowing the blue.

then you start.

your lips part around him, slow, reverent yet vicious, like a predator savoring its prey. you take him inch by inch, tongue gliding along the thick vein with a greed that borders on fixation. spit pools at the corners of your mouth, dripping down his shaft, coating him in a glossy sheen. your hand moves in rhythm, fingers gripping tight, sliding through the mess of precum and saliva, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet stairwell.

you’re consumed, barely pausing for air, lips stretching around his girth, tongue circling the sensitive tip with relentless precision. no words—just the sloppy cadence of your mouth, a low, hungry hum in your throat as you draw him deeper, ravenous. your eyes flick up, catching his chest heaving, abs contracting with every jolt, his fingers tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to sting before they waver, grazing your scalp.

he struggles to breathe, chest rising and falling in fits and starts, shirt plastered to his sweat-damp skin, collar creased and damp. his fingers in your hair flex, then slacken, like he’s battling the urge to steer you. “fuck—fuck—” he chokes, voice splintering, no coherent words, just raw, desperate noise.

his hips jerk, a small, involuntary thrust pushing him deeper into your mouth, and you hum again, the vibration tearing through him. his head tilts back, throat bared, adam’s apple jumping as he swallows hard, a low groan slipping free. his other hand scrapes the wall, nails clawing at the concrete, leaving faint scratches.

you don’t taunt. your focus is absolute, lips gliding over him, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, slick with saliva and precum. your free hand grips his thigh, nails sinking into the taut muscle, feeling it tense under your touch. saliva drips from your chin, staining his slacks, leaving dark, wet patches.

you take him deeper, throat constricting around him, and he bucks, a sharp, fractured sound bursting from his lips, hips twitching again. your eyes dart up, catching his face contorting—brows furrowed, lips parted, sweat tracing a path down his temple, snagging in his pale hair.

and then he’s coming. too soon, too overwhelming, hot and thick down your throat. you swallow with purpose, slow, deliberate, letting him feel the tight grip of your throat, savoring every pulse, every drop, like you’re claiming him entirely. spit and cum mingle, dripping from your lips, coating your chin in a glossy, obscene mess that catches the dim light. his knees soften, a faint quake in his legs, and his hand in your hair tightens briefly, then releases, fingers quaking as they slide to your jaw.

but you don’t stop.

your mouth keeps working, merciless, lips gliding over his oversensitive cock, tongue swirling with unyielding hunger. your hand strokes the base, slick with his release, relentless, pulling him into a haze of overstimulation. he gasps, nerves raw, eyes snapping open, wide and glassy, pupils blown to hell. “stop—fuck—please—” he chokes, voice shattered, hands fumbling at your shoulders, fingers flexing like he’s torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. his legs quiver, muscles twitching under your palms, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts, catching in his throat.

you don’t answer. your lips tighten around him, sucking harder, tongue pressing against the sensitive head, coated in the remnants of his release. he jerks, a raw, humiliating sound scraping from his throat, body betraying him as his cock pulses again. his head tips forward, chin against his chest, eyes squeezing shut, lips quivering as he tries to breathe through it. his fingers press into your shoulders, leaving faint marks, and his other hand braces against the wall, knuckles pale, nails digging into the concrete.

and he breaks again, release spilling over your lips, hot and messy, dripping down your chin in glistening trails. he groans, deep and guttural, the sound echoing like a confession. his legs falter, knees nearly buckling, his breath shallow and jagged, a man unraveling.

you lick him clean, slow, deliberate, relishing the salt and heat, the way his skin jumps under your tongue. his hand in your hair slips away, fingers quaking, settling on your neck, lingering like he needs your pulse to anchor him.

you pull back at last, lips swollen, chin slick with his mess, and look up. he’s ruined—pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, sweat beading at his hairline, pale strands plastered to his forehead. his chest surges, shirt clinging to his damp skin, top button undone, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone.

“thought you hated me,” you murmur, voice soft but cutting, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, the motion slow, deliberate, your eyes never leaving his. “thought you were stronger than this.”

he glares down at you, breathless, lips parted, tongue grazing his palate like he’s chewing on a retort. “you—fucking—bitch,” he rasps, voice raw, barely holding together, but his eyes betray him, lingering on your lips, the glossy shine of his cum on your chin, staring too long.

you climb into his lap, slow and deliberate, letting your weight settle against him, your soaked panties beneath your skirt dragging against his thigh with obscene friction.

he groans, low and fractured, his cock stirring again, the tip brushing your stomach, leaving a faint smear of precum. his eyes drop to the dark, wet patch on your underwear, and something in him snaps—his jaw tightens and his fingers press into your hips, hard enough to leave marks.

“soaked,” he mutters, voice hoarse, reverent, like he’s cursing a god. his tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and his gaze lifts to yours, dark and ravenous, holding eye contact briefly before dropping again, like he can’t resist. “you fucking get off on breaking me, don’t you?”

“maybe i do,” you whisper, voice silk and poison, leaning in until your lips brush his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “maybe i’ve been getting off on it since we were kids. maybe i knew you’d fold the second i got my hands on you.”

his hands seize your hips, fingers sinking in like he’s bracing against a storm. he pulls you down hard against his thigh, and you gasp, sharp and high, hips rocking instinctively, chasing the searing friction.

your breath catches, a flicker of weakness crossing your face—lips parting, eyes half-lidded for a moment, fingers clutching his shoulders, nails biting into his shirt. he catches it, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, lips twitching into a faint, predatory smirk.

“don’t act like you’re any better,” satoru snaps, voice low and ragged, almost a growl. his hands slide up your sides, thumbs grazing the curve of your ribs, lingering like he’s memorizing you. “you’re dripping like a fucking slut. you’d crawl for this cock if i let you.”

“i don’t crawl,” you hiss, but your voice wavers, betraying the heat pooling in your core, the way your legs press around his. your fingers tighten on his shoulders, gripping the fabric.

“oh, you will,” he says, dark and certain, his hand slipping beneath your panties like he owns you. two fingers slide inside, curling deep, and you choke, walls gripping him, slick and eager. his thumb circles your clit, tight and practiced, and your hips buck before you can stop them, a soft whimper escaping. his eyes lock on yours, unblinking, daring you to look away first.

he flips you with a force that steals your breath, your back slamming against the cold concrete wall, the chill biting into your spine. your hands scramble, nails raking his shoulders, leaving red lines through his shirt. his cock presses against your entrance, slick with your arousal, hot and pulsing, and you shiver, a soft moan slipping free despite yourself.

your eyes half-close, lips quivering, a fleeting vulnerability crossing your face, your breath hitching as you press your teeth into your lower lip.

“don’t,” you warn, voice thin, fraying at the edges, barely holding together. it’s too much—the way he fills the air, the way his touch sears, the way you want him even as you hate him. your chest tightens, fingers twisting into his shirt, gripping the fabric, a nervous reflex betraying the chaos inside you.

he ignores you. adjusts your hips, pins you there like a specimen, his hands bruising, possessive. “you wanted this,” he snarls, voice thick with need, his lips brushing your jaw, teeth grazing the skin. “you fucking earned it.”

and he pushes in.

slow, devastating, stretching you inch by inch, balls deep, his hips flush against yours. you both groan—low, rough, animalistic. your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper, heels pressing into his lower back. your arms lock around his neck, nails carving crescent moons into his skin.

his face buries in the crook of your shoulder, breath hot and uneven, teeth grazing your collarbone, a faint scrape that sends a jolt through you. his tongue traces the salt of your skin, lips lingering, marking you.

satoru moves with purpose, every thrust a war cry, deep and unyielding. the sound of skin meeting skin echoes like thunder, mingling with your gasps, his grunts, the slick rhythm of your bodies.

your moans grow loud—too loud—and you bite your lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh, trying to silence them. his hips drive forward, each thrust measured but forceful, his cock striking deep, making your walls grip him. his breath is ragged, puffing against your neck, and his fingers press into your hips, leaving marks that will darken by morning.

then—footsteps.

heavy, uneven, echoing from the top of the stairwell. a shadow flickers across the wall as the door creaks above, the sound sharp and jarring. your heart surges, panic flaring, eyes darting to the stairs, wide and glassy. but satoru doesn’t stop. his cock plunges deeper, harder, balls deep with every thrust, the wet rhythm of his hips against yours brazen in the silence.

you bite your hand, teeth sinking into your palm, muffling the moan clawing up your throat. your other hand grips his shoulder, nails biting in, and your legs quiver, trying to close, but his hips keep them spread.

“satoru—someone’s—” you whisper, voice frantic, barely audible, your eyes flicking to the stairs again, where the shadow lingers. your breath catches, a sharp, unsteady inhale, and your fingers twist into his shirt.

“let them see,” he growls, lips brushing your ear, voice low and vicious, dripping with cruelty. “fuck, you’re so pretty like this—look at you, no fake saint act, just my filthy little whore, taking me so fucking deep.” his words are condescending, but there’s a raw, genuine edge, like he’s seeing you for the first time, stripped of pretense, and it cuts deeper than his thrusts.

his eyes lock on yours, unblinking, pupils blown wide, and his lips twitch into a faint, predatory smirk. “you’re beautiful when you’re real,” he murmurs, voice dipping, almost soft, but the cruelty in it stings, exposing you. “no mask, no lies, just you, stuffed full of my cock.”

your body betrays you, walls gripping him tighter, pleasure surging despite the shame. the footsteps pause, a muffled voice calling out, “anyone down there?” and your heart pounds, but satoru’s thrusts intensify, more punishing, his cock filling you so completely it’s overwhelming.

you press your hand tighter over your mouth, eyes stinging, teeth digging deeper into your knuckles to stifle the sobs of pleasure. your hips jerk against him despite yourself, chasing the high. the voice mutters something vague, and you pray they leave, pray they don’t see you—legs spread, panties shoved aside, satoru’s cock buried deep, your body quaking with the effort to stay silent.

“shh,” he mocks, thrusting deeper, his cock hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, your walls tightening around him. “don’t let them hear you, princess. wouldn’t want your worshippers to see you like this, would you? their perfect little saint, fucked stupid by the guy she hates, creaming all over my cock like a desperate slut.” his voice is low, taunting, and his hand slides to your throat, not squeezing, just resting, his thumb tracing your pulse, feeling it race. his eyes flick to your lips, to the way your teeth sink into your knuckles, and he smirks, slow and cruel.

you whimper, shame and pleasure twisting into a tight knot in your core. your hips buck against him, a tear slipping free, catching on your lashes. the footsteps linger, the shadow still hovering, and his hips drive forward, relentless, the slick rhythm of your bodies louder now, brazen, and you bite down harder, tasting blood, trying to lock the moans in your throat.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” satoru murmurs, voice dipping low, almost reverent, but laced with venom. “no pretending, no bullshit. just you, taking me like you were born for it.” the praise is cruel, so genuine it burns, and your walls tighten around him, a soft, broken sound escaping despite your efforts. his eyes soften for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something raw, before they darken again, holding your gaze like a challenge.

the footsteps fade, the door creaking shut, and you exhale, the sound shaky in the air. but the relief is fleeting—satoru’s hand tightens on your throat, just enough to feel your pulse leap, and his cock drives deeper, unyielding.

“you love this,” he sneers, hips snapping harder, making you gasp. “you love being my dirty little secret, don’t you? look at you, clenching around me like you can’t get enough. like the greedy spoiled brat you really are.”

your breath hitches. “i don’t—” the protest dies halfway, strangled by a moan as he thrusts deep and just right, catching that devastating spot inside you. your fingers dig into his shoulder, nails biting through the fabric. your mouth parts, trying to form words that won’t come.

“harder,” you plead, voice breathless, fraying at the edges, a crack in your control. it’s a moment of weakness, raw and exposed, your lips trembling, eyes half-closing as you press your teeth into your lower lip, trying to anchor yourself. satoru catches it, his smirk widening, eyes glinting with triumph, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips, as though he can taste your surrender.

satoru gives it to you.

fucks you like it’s the only language he knows, like every thrust is a sharp syllable, every moan a desperate rebuttal. your bodies argue in heat and rhythm, friction and breath. his hips drive forward like a point he's determined to make—over and over, merciless and unrelenting, a cruel kind of eloquence.

it’s not love, but it’s the only way either of you knows how to say stay.

his cock fills you, thick and unyielding, stretching you with every measured thrust, the head grazing your walls, slick with your arousal. the wet rhythm of your bodies colliding echoes, brazen, mingling with the uneven huff of his breath against your neck. his hips surge forward, balls deep, the coarse hair at his base brushing your sensitive skin, sending a spark through your core.

your walls tighten around him, eager, possessive, and he hisses, a sharp, involuntary sound, his jaw locking, a tendon pulsing under his flushed cheek. his fingers press into your hips, bruising, and his eyes flick to yours for a fleeting moment—wild, glassy, pupils blown—before darting away, like he’s dodging the truth.

your body gives out first. the coil inside you snaps, and your spine arches like a drawn bowstring, fingers clawing down his back, leaving angry red trails. your mouth opens, but no sound escapes—just a broken little gasp, sharp and cut off like a secret you never meant to confess. pleasure floods you, white-hot and overwhelming, stealing the air from your lungs.

your legs shake, heels pressing hard against his back like you’re anchoring him inside, keeping him close, keeping him real. your brows furrow, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted in a quivering o that never forms a word. your walls pulse around him, slick with your release, a faint sheen coating his cock as he eases back slightly, the sight drawing a low, guttural sound from his chest.

a sob claws up your throat, half-stifled by your palm. your other hand scrabbles for purchase, nails sinking into his skin, and he groans at the sting, at the way your body fights to hold him even as it unravels. his legs tense under yours, muscles coiling, and his tongue grazes his lips, a quick, unconscious flick.

his cock twitches inside you, heavy and hot, filling you to the point of ache. saliva gathers at the corner of your mouth, a thin trail sliding down your chin, mingling with the sweat beading at your throat. his eyes catch it, lingering on the messy shine, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard, his grip on your hip tightening.

he follows not long after.

his body stiffens, chest pressing flush to yours, a quake running through him like a snapped wire. his eyes flutter shut for a second, lashes quivering, and your name spills from his lips—hoarse, cracked, reverent, like prayer and curse in one.

satoru spills into you, deep and pulsing, his release hot and thick, filling you until it leaks out, a slick trail tracing down your thighs, pooling on the concrete below. his breath breaks against your neck, coming in short, ragged bursts, and his mouth finds your shoulder, teeth grazing the damp skin, more mark than bite. it lingers, a claiming, a confession he can't say aloud.

his fingers flex on your hips, then loosen, only to tighten again, like he’s afraid to let go. his eyes open, locking on yours for a moment—wild, raw, unguarded—before he jerks his gaze away, jaw tightening.

but satoru doesn’t stop.

he should.

you’re shaking beneath him, overstimulated, your breath hitching in choked hiccups. but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you through the comedown, through the soft sounds you make—half-cries, half-whimpers—through the desperate grip of your spent muscles.

his rhythm falters but persists, each thrust carving a space where only he fits, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he slows. his cock drags against your sensitive walls, slick with cum and arousal, the sound wet and relentless, filling the stairwell. your legs quiver, heels digging into his lower back, and your hand clutches his shoulder, nails leaving faint red crescents.

your other hand presses harder against your mouth, teeth biting into your palm to muffle the sounds you can’t contain. his breath sears your neck, puffing in uneven bursts, and his lips graze your collarbone, leaving a faint trail of saliva that cools on your skin.

“hate you,” he snarls, voice wrecked, raw and shaking. his hips snap forward again, sharp and deep, his cock driving into you with a force that makes your walls clench, a soft, broken whimper escaping your lips. his forehead presses to yours for one trembling second, eyes locked on yours—wide, wild, panicked—like a man holding his breath underwater.

his tongue flicks out again, wetting his lips, and his fingers flex against your hips, a faint tremor in his hands. his thrusts are relentless, each one deliberate, measured, but forceful, the head of his cock hitting deep, making your breath catch in sharp, stuttering gasps.

your eyes flutter, dazed and glossy, lashes clinging to damp skin. your mouth opens, but nothing comes—only the broken breath of someone who should say stop but can’t.

you’re still trembling, thighs clenching unconsciously around him, breath shallow and uneven. your walls flutter around his cock, slick with the mess of your release and his, and a faint, wet trail drips down your inner thigh, pooling on the floor.

he shamelessly drinks in the sight and jerks his gaze away like it burns him, like he’s afraid of what he’ll see—afraid that if he keeps his eyes on you too long, he’ll realize he’s not angry at you at all. his jaw clenches, a muscle ticking under the skin, and his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek.

his hips stutter, just for a moment, but he keeps going, thrusting deep, the wet squelch of your bodies louder now, a rhythmic, obscene echo. his fingers dig into your hips, bruising, and his breath puffs against your neck, hot and uneven, a faint groan slipping free as your walls clench around him again.

he’s angry at how much he wants you to stay.

and how terrified he is that you will.

“you’re such a bad liar,” you breathe, ragged, voice barely there, lips trembling as you speak. “you beg like you worship me.”

“does that make you think you’ve won?” he growls, thrusting harder, making you gasp, your head tipping back against the wall. “you’re way delusional than i thought. you’re just as fucked as i am, princess. look at you—cumming on my cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for.”

you clench again, a weak, desperate moan slipping free, and he groans, cock twitching inside you. your lips crash into his, messy, obscene, tongues tangling, teeth biting. his blood is in your mouth, sharp and metallic, and yours is on his tongue, a shared wound.

the stairwell reeks of sweat, sex, and something sacred, your ribbon lost somewhere on the floor, his shirt clinging to his sweat-slick skin, wrinkled and damp. your eyes meet—unfocused, wild, wrecked—holding for a moment before you both look away, like the truth is too much.

“this meant nothing,” he rasps, voice raw, lips trembling as he speaks, his eyes flicking to your lips, lingering there. his fingers loosen on your hips, then tighten again, like he can’t decide whether to let go.

“good,” you whisper, lips brushing his, still trembling from the aftershocks, your breath puffing against his mouth. “then we’re doing it again tomorrow. maybe in front of a mirror. i want you to see how pathetic you look when you’re begging.” your voice dips, soft but cutting.

he doesn’t reply, but his hips roll into you one last time, slow, deliberate, like punctuation. his mouth catches your gasp, fingers tightening on your skin, and his eyes hold yours for a moment—wild, raw, unguarded—before he looks away, tongue pressing to his cheek again. you know neither of you will ever forget.

“this meant nothing,” he rasps, voice rough around the edges, lips twitching like he almost regrets saying it. his hands flex on your hips, like he can’t decide whether to let go or keep holding on.

“good,” you murmur, breath brushing his mouth, still winded. “then we’re doing it again tomorrow. in front of a mirror this time. i want you to see how desperate you get.” your voice is calm, cruel, intimate. your fingers smooth down his chest—tidying what you ruined.

he doesn’t respond.

instead, he leans in and steals a kiss—quick, hard, teeth clashing. like he can’t help himself. like he needs one last hit before he walks away. it’s messy and angry and not meant to linger, but it does.

his mouth hovers just a second longer than it should. your breath catches.

then he pulls back, silent, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. like he’s already thinking about next time.

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