#drilling compensation

[perlina-hitechcircuits]

Understanding Drilling Compensation

1. Why is Drilling Compensation Necessary?

When customers provide PCB files, the hole diameters usually refer to the finished hole size. However, during PCB production, copper plating (or surface treatments like hot tin, gold plating, OSP, or hot tin) occurs inside the holes, causing the diameter to shrink. To ensure that the finished hole size meets requirements, engineering CAM performs drilling compensation to correct the hole size.

Example: If the finished hole size is 1.00 mm with surface treatment (Nickel thickness: 2.54 μm, Gold thickness: 0.0254 μm) and IPC standard class II (average copper thickness: 20 μm), a compensation of 0.10 mm would require the engineering team to select a drill bit of 1.10 mm.

2. How is Drilling Compensation Executed?

Drilling compensation involves three key parameters: drill bit increment, compensation value, and advancement value. These parameters determine how compensation is applied.

· Drill Bit Increment: Determined by the company’s procurement of drill bits, the industry standard is typically 50 μm. The size range of drill bits generally falls between 0.1 mm and 6.35 mm, with a minimum adjacent spacing of 0.05 mm. Common drill bits include: 0.10 mm, 0.15 mm, 0.20 mm, 0.25 mm, etc.

· Compensation Value: Established by the engineering department based on factory testing results, compensation values are relatively consistent across the industry. Generally, for hot tin boards, the compensation is 0.15 mm; for other surface treatments (gold plating, OSP, etc.), it is 0.10 mm.

· Advancement Value: This strategy, developed by the engineering department, is used to select drill bits. It operates similarly to rounding. For example, if the increment is 20 μm, any remainder from the drilling compensation that is ≥ 20 μm will round up by 50 μm; otherwise, it remains at 0 μm.

Example: If the finished hole size is 1.025 mm with a compensation value of 0.10 mm, the post-compensation size would be 1.125 mm. Since there is no 1.125 mm drill bit, the advancement value applies. The remainder (25 μm) is greater than 20 μm, so the drill size selected would be 1.15 mm.

Actual Calculation Example:

To select the drill bit size, break down the compensated hole size into an integer part and a remainder:

Integer Part:

1.125mm/0.05=22.5 (rounded down to 22)

22*.05=1.10mm

Remainder:

1.125mm mod 0.05=0.025mm

Determination: If the remainder is greater than 20 μm, use the integer part + 0.05 mm; otherwise, use the integer part + 0 mm.

How to Ensure Finished Hole Diameter Meets Requirements After Drilling Compensation

Method 1: Purchase Special Drill Bits

The standard increment for PCB drilling is 50 μm, meaning the adjacent drill bit spacing is 0.05 mm, such as 1.00 mm, 1.05 mm, 1.10 mm, and 1.15 mm.

For PTH hole tolerances of ±3 mil, using drill bits with a 50 μm increment typically satisfies the finished tolerance requirements. However, if the hole diameter tolerance is smaller than this value, special drill bits can be used.

Example 1: Comparison of 50 μm and 25 μm Increment Drill Bit Selection

Original hole diameter: 0.922 mm

Drilling compensation: 0.10 mm, compensated diameter is 1.022 mm

Difference comparison:1.050 - 1.022 = 0.028 mm1.025 - 1.022 = 0.003 mm

The smaller the difference, the more reasonable the drill bit selection; therefore, 1.025 mm is the best choice here.

Example 2: Comparison of 50 μm and Special Drill Bit Selection

Original hole diameter: 0.611 mm

Drilling compensation: 0.10 mm, compensated diameter is 0.711 mm

Difference comparison:0.700 - 0.711 = 0.011 mm0.711 - 0.711 = 0.000 mm

Again, the smaller the difference, the more reasonable the drill bit selection; hence, 0.711 mm is the best choice here.

Method 2: Process and Equipment Improvements

Increase secondary board plating to reduce the plating time and lessen the impact of uneven pattern distribution on plating thickness.

Improve negative photo etching processes by using full board copper plating to reduce the effects of uneven pattern distribution on plating thickness.

Reduce current density; typically, it is 19 ASF. Lowering the current density improves plating quality, though it will extend the plating time.

Upgrade to more advanced horizontal plating lines, as conventional vertical plating lines tend to produce thicker copper on the surface or edge of holes compared to the center of the hole wall in high aspect ratio scenarios.

Method 3: Engineering CAM Improvements

Drill in independent hole areas and select a drill bit that compensates with an additional increment. In independent areas with less copper, the higher current density during plating results in thicker copper deposits than in other areas, leading to smaller holes.

One side with dense traces and the other with sparse traces (a common design in power boards), with sparse traces facing inward and dense traces facing outward, utilizing inverted panel stacking. During plating of the entire panel, the current density increases closer to the edges, resulting in thicker copper deposits near the board edges.

Use yin-yang panel stacking when there is a large area difference between the TOP and BOTTOM surfaces. This can create bell-mouth holes; the thicker the board and hole copper, the more pronounced the hole shape will be. Yin-yang stacking helps balance uneven copper area distribution on both sides.

For independent hole drilling, when close to the board edges or near routing grooves, copper foil or copper pads can be placed at the board edge or groove center. Drilling in independent areas tends to result in thicker copper in the holes, making them smaller. Where feasible, adding copper foil or pads around the edges can help reduce high current in these areas.

Hitech Circuits is a one-stop electronics manufacturing services supplier in China. We can provide services for prototype & volume PCB fabrication & PCB assembly. If you have related needs, please don't hesitate to contact me via email: sales3@hitechpcb.com

[al-mayriti]

i spent all morning looking for the cheapest ways to get to venice next monday and i feel like i've cracked the code or something i think i got it

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

The coffee shop below is is advertising jobs but the only one available is a management role which I TECHNICALLY have experience in so send some good luck my way

[grateful-boy]

Zach posted a photo on instagram!

“back from whence we came…”

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley who was just too damn big for your small cunt

cw: size difference, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dub-con??? idk , not proof read

simon knew that he was a big man, shoulders made him squeeze himself slightly smaller just so he can walk through doors, thighs so big it was impossible to find pants that could accomodate to them. and now, his sweet little bird who couldn’t even take his cock.

it was torture for him, the only thing that came close to fucking you was rubbing his aching cock along your glistening cunt, but yet that made things even worse. he fantasied about what your cunt felt like, how warm and tight it will be around his cock, the pretty moans that would leave your mouth as he buried himself deep inside you.

but now, he had to settle for his hands, too rough and always aching right after he came.

but he really couldn’t handle it anymore, each day he felt like he was slowly losing his sanity, not being able to feel his pretty bird. “please luvie? let’s jus’ try one more time, im a patient man.” simon pleaded, slowly kissing your neck as his large scarred hands rubbed your sides, coaxing you.

“please, i’ll make you feel so good.” it was pathetic how his cock was already straining against his pants, gently pressing the bulge against your clothed cunt. he almost came in his pants from the way you gently grind against his cock, the heat of your body making his blood rush to his groin.

“you want it too luvie, look at you, pretty lil thing desperate for my cock,” his voice hoarse as he gently nudged your legs apart. “can’t deprive my lil birdie from her needs can i?”

“it’s not gonna fit si,” you whined as he gave his cock a few pumps, eyes trained on you.

“it will baby, yer made for me.” he reassured, gently rubbing his thick fingers around your cunt, watching them glisten as he stretched you out. “yer lil cunnie is quite obedient when she’s needy.” simon could groan when he smelt your arousal, you were so god damn wet he was pretty sure he wouldn’t need lube.

“gonna give her some attention yeah luvie?” he leaned down as he gently pressed a kiss against your cunt, your nails tugged his hair as he gave a fat lick against your folds. the only form of intimacy the two of you had was giving each other head, his tongue deep inside you as he savoured each taste, ignoring how hard his cock was from his action alone. “she’s ready, i promise.” simon groaned as your arousal glistened down his chin, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt.

the moment his tip sank in he lost all control, a guttural groan leaving his mouth before slamming all the way in. “si!” you whined as you tried to back away, the sudden action giving you a burning sensation from the obscene stretch. “fuck, sorry luvie,” his large hands gently cradling your face before peppering your face with kisses. “jus’ not used to this feeling.”

he tried his best to go slow, really he did, but you just felt so warm and tight around him, gummy walls clenching around his cock like it was trying to remember every vein. “fuckin’ hell, it’s like yer tryin’ to milk me dry,” a sharp hiss left his lips as he tried to compose himself.

but he couldn’t stop, god you just felt so good, your cunt so welcoming that he couldn’t stop drilling deep inside you. despite your struggles of accomodating to his length your cunt gushed all over him, the most lewd wet noises filling up the room.

your body trembled with each thrust, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clawed his back. “fuck, i don’t wanna stop,” simon swore that his eyes could roll back from the feeling of your cunt alone. god, something would have to pull him off you.

“‘m gonna give this lil cunt the attention she deserves yeah? poor thing has only felt my tongue and fingers, need to fill her up as compensation yeah?”

simon didn’t stop until he filled your cunt up, admiring the way his cum leaked even with his cock stuffed inside you. “gonna fuck you till yer full of my cum, can’t have my pretty baby all empty can i?”

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

[em1i2a3]

I Wanna Get Lost With You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Stark!Thunderbolt!Reader

Summary: After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Spoilers for Thunderbolts because everyone from Thunderbolts is in this and is involved and there is events from the movie that are mentioned :). Fluff, a hint of angst (because of the reader having a rough night…and a rough couple of years in general), Brief Mentioning of Grief and Loss, Bucky is kind of a reluctant father figure to the reader, Bob is Bob and he’s a softie who’s seen it all, Reader and Bob have an established friendship, Smut.

Smut Warnings: Hot and Heavy Makeout Session, Grinding, Cuddling with Some ✨Spice ✨(ahem…Fingering and handjobs lol), Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all, you know the drill), Bob is a softie, reader knows what she likes (a bit of a soft dominant vibe but not really). This is like a mix of comfort sex, and like purely desperate sex, you’ll see, you’ll see. Lol, Aftercare (because that’s hot too)

Author’s Note: This request was given to me by @xlittlemissydjx and I just had to do it when I read it (I also accidentally deleted the request by accident lol). I really expanded the landscape of it though, but I hope it meets what you were looking for :). Thanks I know I have a lot of pending part 2’s of one-shots, but I really couldn’t resist the opportunity to put a little bit of everything into this story, Angst, Fluff, and Smut. The holy trinity lol. Enjoy :))

Note About Requests!!!: I’m working through them! I have about 14 things I need to do! So be patient! They should all be done at varying times within the next week and a half (I get in the zone enough to get two a day out so hopefully that can help!)

Word Count: 18,416 (…Wow)

You had been tossing and turning all night, and it showed the second you stepped into the kitchen that morning. It was written in the heaviness of your steps, the way you continuously readjusted your sweater as if it was too tight–even though it was two sizes too big–, and it was painted across your eyes with the faint smudge of exhaustion that clung to the corners of them.

You had your tells–the little things that gave it away, and the team knew all of them. They knew when you didn’t get enough sleep, or when you didn’t get any sleep at all. You didn’t even have to say a word to them, they could just gauge it from your facial expressions. If you weren’t your usual chirpy self–the version of you that compensated your sadness with jokes and filled the room with noise–they knew what they were in for.

And today? You hadn’t said a word.

The moment you walked into the kitchen though you were pulled into the chaotic scene unfolding in front of you, as the scent of scorched butter hit your nose.

“I told you to spray the pan, Bob. Did you spray it or not?” Walker’s voice rang out, sharp with his distinct signature brand of early-morning frustration. He stood by the oven, hunched over it with a spatula in his hand wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a “Grill Sergeant” apron. Bob stood a few feet away, sheepish and visibly wilting by the tone that Walker was taking with him. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his fingers were busy wringing the hem of his flour-streaked sweater–the nervous habit he hadn’t kicked.

Over the past few weeks, Bob had started volunteering for kitchen duty more and more–not because he was good at it, because unfortunately he wasn’t and everyone had learned it the hard way–but because he liked the idea of it. Of helping. Of contributing back to the compound as he was in his recovery process from his incident in New York. He had also mentioned to you in passing that it helped him feel like he was normal again, and it reminded him of the simpler times.

But now, with flour scattered everywhere, batter dripping down the front of the counter, and Walker looming over him with the interrogating questions, he was clearly second-guessing his life choices.

”I…I thought I did.” He mumbled, looking around the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I had the can in my hand.” He whispered, confused.

”Then what happened, hm?” Walker questioned, “Did the damn thing disappear out of your hand or something?” You reached up to rub the tiredness out of your eyes, letting out a sigh, which got the room's attention almost instantly–like you sucked the air out of it.

“Walker, what have I said about taking it easy on Bob, for the love of God.” Your voice wasn’t loud, because it didn’t need to be. Even with being the youngest in the group, you were seasoned enough to be feared, especially by Walker–which was always surprising for the ones who would see the both of you interact.

Bob looked over at you immediately the moment your voice broke through the room–firm and quiet, how you always were–and just like that, his posture shifted. Not completely–he was still wringing the hem of his sweater and looking sheepish–but something in him softened.

You always did that to him. You walked into a room, and it was like the gravity in the room shifted. You were never loud with him, your energy was controlled, but even if you were the loud person that you were around the others, Bob still lit up, in the same way a quiet house lights up when someone finally opens the blinds. His breathing got a little easier. His shoulders dropped just a little lower. Like he knew–even without words–that if anything ever went wrong, you’d be there to shield him from the worst of it.

And you always were, since the day you met in the O.X.E Vault, the day things changed for you–for the better of course.

You defended him the way no one else really did. The way nobody else really could replicate. You caught every nervous tick he had, you knew when to pull him out of situations he couldn’t handle, and you filled in his silences when he got overwhelmed and went quiet, answering hard questions for him with that calm, dry tone that let everyone know there were lines that were crossed.

You didn’t baby him, but you stood with him.

And Bob–who had spent so much of his life being pushed to the side, forgotten, or abused–had never really known what it was like to be protected like that, and he paid you back in the only way he knew how; by being your constant. A little planet in your very tight orbit, always trying, always showing up, always offering whatever soft, steady care he could muster.

You would say you took care of him in public, and he took care of you in private.

You’d never talked about it–not in direct words–but the arrangement was understood. He knew when to slip a cup of tea into your hand on the nights when your hands shook too hard to make one yourself. You knew when to plant yourself between him and a room full of sharp voices. He knew when to knock gently on your door and ask if you’d eaten. You knew when to tug him by the sleeve and get him out of conversations that made his breath short and his voice crack.

‘Hey, there’s only so many ruined breakfasts a man can take before he snaps.” Walker replied, holding up the pan that had what looked to be a burnt pancake glued onto it, “Look at what he did. This is literally my last one.” You didn’t even flinch. You gave the pancake a passing glance, then turned your attention back to Walker, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

”And yet somehow the world keeps spinning, Walker. Why didn’t you take the harder stuff if you knew there was a possibility of Bob ruining your prized pan?” There was a long pause, until Walker held his hands up in mock surrender.

”Fine…Fine…You’re right. I’m sorry.” You raised an eyebrow.

”And apologize to Bob.” You added, watching Walker glance sideways at him.

”Sorry, Bob.” Bob gave a quick, awkward nod.

”It’s okay…” He whispered under his breath.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the interaction to be done, as you walked from the entrance of the kitchen and made your way toward the fridge, cracking the door open to grab a chilled bottle of water. The cold bit into your palm–and you lingered there for a moment, letting the cool air brush over your skin before closing the door again.

You stepped towards Bob then.

”You good?” You asked, voice low now, like it was just meant for him. He nodded, hesitating for only a breath.

”Yeah…I-I didn’t mean to screw things up so badly…I was just trying to help.” You let out a quiet sigh. The kind that carried the tail-end of exhaustion and affection at the same time, in equal measures, giving Walker a death stare, before reaching out to Bob, patting the side of his arm. It wasn’t too soft, nor too hard–it was just right to comfort him.

“Well,” You murmured, letting a touch of warmth back into your voice, “Go help by setting up the table, okay? I’ll order some food for everyone, and if you hear Walker screaming for his life, just ignore it.” This drew out a laugh from Bob–small and unguarded, a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected it to break free from his mouth in the way it did. It wasn’t loud, but it was full-bodied and real, the kind that deepened the flush that was always on his cheeks. Walker furrowed his brow from where he stood.

”What was that?” You didn’t answer him, you were already pulling your phone from the front pocket of your father’s hoodie, tapping through the food delivery app with the kind of speed that only came from someone who routinely cleaned up the emotional aftermath of other people’s messes.

”Nothing, I was just telling Bob I’m ordering breakfast for everyone, hope you like hash browns.” You said flatly, your tone disinterested as your thumb hovered over your usual go-to breakfast place, the one that you used to go to on your birthday.

Bob, still smiling faintly to himself, took this as his cue to duck out of the kitchen without another word, moving towards the dining area with a new sense of purpose. Walker watched him for a second as he left the room, leaving the two of you alone together, before shaking his head.

”You’re too soft on him.” You didn’t look up from your phone as you added seven orders of bacon to the cart.

”I’m just going to give you a friendly reminder that he helped us out of the Void and bought us time to save him, and another reminder that he saved our lives at the vault too. We owe him the softness, and the stability.” Walker sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was trying to physically scratch the tension out of his spine.

”Still. The guy’s not made of glass. I think you forget that he beat the shit out of us in this very tower.” He shot back, which made you look up from your phone.

”That was the Sentry. You know that. And you only bring that up because you’re still butthurt that your shield hasn’t been fixed.” Walker grunted, caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant defeat. He shook his head again, slower this time, then dropped his spatula into the sink.

”Fine…You win.” He muttered.

”I always do,” You replied, looking back down at your phone to add three extra croissants to the order just in case someone got picky, going to check out.

”You gonna be in the training room later, thought we could spar together.” You paused for a second, glancing up at him for a moment, before processing your order and locking your phone, sliding it back into the hoodie pocket.

”No,” You said simply, turning the cap off your water, taking a quick sip, letting the coolness spread across your chest, “It’s my day off.” You added, which caught his attention immediately.

”Off? You don’t take days off.”

“I do today, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to see me take a day off anyways…So why is this such a surprise?”Walker furrowed his brow a bit.

”It’s just a bit weird, taking a random Tuesday off, what’s the occasion?” You met his eyes, almost annoyed by the line of questioning.

“It’s just for me, that’s all.”

——————-

After cleaning up everyone’s plates after breakfast, you collected your keys from the dish on the counter and slipped them into your pocket. No one questioned you. No one stopped you.

Bob had been in the middle of rinsing out the orange juice glasses, sleeves damp with his concentration fixed on the smallest marks, like he was trying not to think too hard. You gave him a soft pat on the back as you passed. He didn’t turn, but you felt the way he leaned into it, a silent acknowledgement.

You didn’t say goodbye. It wasn’t that kind of day.

Instead, you made your way down the corridor, past the glass-paneled lounge where Yelena and Ava were arguing over something that sounded like movie night logistics, and past the half-lit training room where the mats were still scuffed from the week before.

The elevator greeted you with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the main lobby, knowing you had to make a stop before travelling into the heart of the city. The doors slid shut in front of you, sealing off the noise of the compound, and the silence that followed settled in your chest. The elevator hummed quietly beneath your feet, the numbers ticking down slower than usual, like it knew what kind of day it was for you.

When the doors finally opened, the lobby was quiet. You stepped out quickly, turning on your heel to go down the hallway that was right beside the elevator. It was silent, cleaner than the rest of the compound, and dimmer–there was less foot traffic so that’s why it was normally lit like a mortuary. The air down this hall always felt heavier, because it was the lead up to something you visited frequently.

Your boots echoed against the polished tile, until the corridor opened into the memorial wing. A long, curved hall with framed photos and holographic projections lining both sides–names etched into the glass like ghosts.

The “Hall of the Fallen,” they called it. A name you hated to say out loud, because to you they were your people.

The entire wing had only come to be because you forced it into existence. During the final round of renovations, when Valentina wanted the east wing reserved for press briefings and high-tech sparring simulations, you had walked into her office, dropped a folder full of lawsuit drafts onto her desk, and told her plainly that if your father didn’t have a place in this building, neither would you. You knew you sounded out of line, but because the tower used to be his, you thought the leverage would be something to hold over her head.

“I will sue you into the sun,” You had said calmly, “And I’ll have Pepper on the line within the hour to back me.”

So she relented.

And now… Here it was.

Each section of the wall was backlit in soft amber light. Not cold and sterile, but warm–like candlelight. Like the kind of lighting your dad always insisted on in the Tower because he said it was more comforting and less lab-like.

Your eyes tracked instinctively toward the far right. You never had to look for it, because you knew exactly where he was, call it a daughterly instinct.

The large framed photograph of Tony Stark stood in front of you. No helmet, no Iron Man suit. Just him, in a slightly crooked tie and a hand resting on your shoulder. The image had been cropped, but you remembered where this was taken. He’d been giving a press conference and you snuck up beside him mid-speech. He had rolled his eyes and laughed, pulling you into the shot like it was nothing.

You slowly stepped forward, putting out your hand to reach for him, but before you could, you noticed someone already standing near the center of the hallway, facing a different frame.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets, hair slicked back like he was going for a meeting…Bucky.

He didn’t turn at the sound of your steps. He didn’t have to. He knew you would be here. It was the anniversary of your fathers death after all.

He was standing in front of Steve’s photo–head slightly bowed, jaw clenched, like the weight of all the memories he had with him had curled itself around his spine and wouldn’t let go.

You approached him slowly, your boots muffled now by the soft carpet that lined the central arc of the memorial wing. Bucky hadn’t moved, his eyes were locked on the image of Steve–clean-cut, square-jawed, with his warm smile forever frozen in time. You stopped beside him to stand shoulder to shoulder.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, you just stared at the photo, breathing deeply, in reflection of the moments you all got together. After a minute you cleared your throat, pushing the lump to the side so you could speak.

”You missed breakfast.” Bucky let out a slow breath through his nose.

”Didn’t really feel like having pancakes today.” You cracked a small smile.

”Wasn’t pancakes…Bob ruined Walker's last pan by burning them.” His lip twitched just a little.

“Sounds like I didn’t miss much then.” He said, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth before fading again. The silence between you returned, but it wasn’t empty–it was heavy. Full of everything neither of you had ever needed to say out loud.

Your eyes lingered on the picture of Steve for a moment, before shifting sideways to study Bucky instead. He looked older in this light. Not tired–just…Quieter. Softer around the edges in a way that only grief can carve into a man.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked.

”About thirty minutes, I had a meeting today actually so that’s also why I missed breakfast.” Bucky shifted his weight slightly, eyes still trained on the photo, “Didn’t think I’d end up staying this long, but you know…Memories make you lose track of time.” You nodded slowly, getting a bit closer to him, slipping your arm into his, feeling the coolness of his vibranium radiating through his jacket. He let out a slow, steady exhale, letting your hand rest there, and in that small gesture, you felt the quiet return of the role he’d carved out between the both of you–it was reluctant at first, but unshakable now.

”You know…” You murmured after a beat, “He would’ve been really proud of you.” Bucky didn’t speak right away, but you could see his jaw clench at your words, before nodding.

”Tony would’ve been proud of you too.” That made you scoff, but softly. You looked down at your boots, your fingers curling slightly around the curve of his arm.

”Definitely not,” You said with a dry laugh, “I don’t think he ever intended on me being on a team like this…Or carrying on his legacy at all, really. Especially not with how I started this…With Val and everything.” You added.

”We all do stupid things sometimes, but now you’re a part of something bigger than yourself. I’m telling you…He would’ve been very happy to see you in action.” You looked down at your feet, with a soft smile coming up on your face before nodding.

It hit you again–like it always did this time of year–that Bucky had become the closest thing you had left to family. Apart from Pepper and Morgan, he was the only one that truly stood by you. This year was different of course, especially with your new teammates, but it made you think back to how far the both of you truly came.

Because it never started that way. In fact, you didn’t think Bucky would’ve offered you the protection he did. He was quiet and watchful, always keeping people at arm’s length. But something changed at your father’s funeral.

He found you that day–after the speeches and the silence, after Pepper had walked Morgan inside of the house to make her some food and Rhodes offered his condolences. You were standing by the water, not crying, just looking out onto the way the sun was setting, wearing one of Tony’s old jackets because it still smelled like his aftershave.

You didn’t even hear Bucky approach until he was beside you, and when he spoke, it was the only thing that had cut through the fog in your brain that day.

“If you ever need anything…” He said, quietly, like it wasn’t a promise he had been planning to make, “Anything at all…I’m one phone call away. No questions asked.” You had looked up at him, surprised that he was even talking to you, especially after everything that had happened between him and your father, but all you did was give him a nod, and a thank you.

Then, four years later, when you found yourself stuck in the desert with Walker, Ava, and Yelena, after escaping the death trap that was the O.X.E. Vault, and witnessing Bob turn into a human asteroid, you had pulled out your phone and dialed his number.

You remembered the look on Walker’s face as you pulled out your phone and started dialing.

”Who the hell are you calling in the middle of the desert?” You looked up at him, shielding your phone away from him.

”My emergency contact…Someone who’s not going to let us die out here.” You muttered, putting the phone to your ear. It only had to ring once, before he picked it up.

”Y/N, hey, you think I can call you back in a few minutes.” He said, like he was in a rush, like he was packing.

”Bucky, I’m in trouble.” Walker’s face had immediately dropped, his mouth opening slightly. Yelena had seen the look, and she had whispered something to him, not understanding the visceral reaction.

“Bucky!?” Walker exclaimed, you looked over at him confused, pressing your finger to your lips–afraid that his voice would echo through the open space and gain some sort of attention possibly.

”…Y/N…Was that John Walker's voice that I just heard?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece together what the hell was happening.

“Y-Yeah. Listen, we don’t have time to go into details because I need to conserve my battery, but we are in a desert in Utah, and we’re lost. I need you to help me…Will you please help me?” He had already been packing his motorcycle to start making his way over after receiving a call from Mel with her coordinates, and immediately he started connecting the dots that you were somehow involved. Before the line of questioning even left his lips, he remembered what he told you at the funeral and reluctantly spoke.

”Okay. I’ll track your coordinates and be there as fast as I can, just…For the love of God stay safe.” You nodded.

”I will, I’ll see you soon…Thank you Bucky.” Then you hung up the phone.

”How the fuck do you know Bucky Barnes?!” Was the first question out of Walker's mouth.

Then all the details were out in the open for everyone to know; how you knew him, how you were Tony’s daughter, how you joined Val’s list of operatives because you felt like you wanted to do something and she offered it to keep you busy. You were surprised that your identity wasn’t known to the group, so it was a relief when they quietly gave a nod to you almost as if to say they were sorry for even asking. Then the unplanned limo pickup from Alexei had happened, which intruded on the plans a little bit and ended with you having to reset your own shoulder, but to be reunited with Bucky Barnes was a heaven sent.

“Been watching you on TV at those congress hearings, congratulations by the way.” He let out a soft laugh at that comment, adjusting your shoulder into the proper position.

”Yeah well…I guess a lot of unexpected things have happened over the past couple of years.” He said, still a bit concerned with the details on how you somehow got wrapped up in all of this. But once again, he said no questions asked and he stuck to it.

Now as you stood side by side today though, it was easy to say that he was like a father figure you never thought you would have again, and you were grateful for all of it, regardless of how it fell into place.

”…I sometimes wish he got to see me with you guys too…” You whispered, breaking the silence. Bucky glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

”I’m telling you, he would’ve liked it. Sometimes when I see you at briefings you have the same mannerisms he had, same attitude and stuff. I was never really around him but I heard stories from Steve. It’s like you’re a carbon copy of him in female form.” That drew a soft laugh out of you.

“While I do appreciate being compared to him, I can never be as good.” There was a pause, and he sighed.

”There’s no ‘good’ kid…You’re doing the best you can with the cards you’ve been dealt. And I’m proud of you, we all are, even though none of us really say it often enough.” Bucky’s words settled into your chest like something warm and grounding, something heavy in the best possible way. You blinked a few times, swallowing the knot in your throat before it could turn into something embarrassing, and that’s when an idea popped into your mind.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment longer, just breathing. Just being.

Then, slowly–almost uncertain–Bucky shifted, and his arm moved around your shoulders. He didn’t pull you in abruptly. He didn’t force the moment. It was gentle. Intentional. Like he was offering the hug, not giving it. It was something Bucky rarely did, but in a moment where comfort was needed he would push the discomfort off for you.

You leaned into it immediately.

Your arms came around his middle, anchoring yourself to the familiar weight of him. You didn’t close your eyes, but you let your cheek rest against his chest and took a breath. He smelled like leather and clean soap, and the faint trace of a piney cologne he always insisted he didn’t wear. You both stayed like that for a few beats–just enough to feel steady again.

“Thanks Buck,” You mumbled, your voice quiet.

“Anytime,” He replied, equally soft.

You pulled back, brushing your sleeve against your face subtly wiping a small tear that was forming in the corner of your eye as you stepped away.

“Alright…Enough with the sappiness…” You sighed, your tone turning a bit lighter now, “I’m heading into the city to do a bit of shopping therapy…” Bucky arched an eyebrow.

”Shopping therapy huh? Guess it’s better than drinking. And you’re going without your second shadow?” You looked at him confused.

”Who?” Bucky gave you a look, one of those deadpan, all-knowing stares.

”Bob,” He responded, “You think he’s not going to notice that you’re gone for the whole day?” A guilty grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Everyone knew how close you were to him, but Bucky was the one person to know how deep it truly went, how much Bob actually knew about you, down to the little details, and the darkest parts.

”I slipped out while he was rinsing the glasses, I figure I’ll have about an hour of radio silence until someone calls to tell me he’s looking for me.” Bucky huffed a dry laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll shoot let him know of my whereabouts in a bit…Don’t worry.” You promised, stuffing your hands into your hoodie pocket. “Just wanted a little time to myself. Got an idea I need to run with, and I think it’ll help.”

He didn’t press for more. He never did. That was the good thing about Bucky–he could read you like a book, but he only turned the pages when you were ready.

“Well,” he said after a moment, adjusting the collar of his jacket, “Don’t get lost in any candle shops.”

“No promises.”

You turned to go, but paused halfway down the hall and glanced back. He was still standing there in front of Steve’s photo, hands back in his pockets, eyes distant. You softened.

“I’ll be back later tonight. Might be close to dinner, maybe after. But tell the others not to start movie night without me.”

Bucky nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

“They’ll wait,” He said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You offered him a small smile–one of the rare, real ones–and gave a little wave as you turned and headed out.

The elevator doors closed behind you with a soft ding, and for the first time that day, you felt the flicker of excitement hum through your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for yet–but you were going to find something for each of them. Something thoughtful. Something that said thank you for being here, for staying, for putting up with me.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

———————

You had returned that night thirty minutes after dinner was wrapping up. Everyone was still mingling in the kitchen, the remnants of takeout cartons and half-eaten desserts scattered across the island, but when the elevator dinged, every head instinctively turned toward the hallway.

When the doors slid open and you stepped out–flanked by two interns struggling with your overflow of tissue-paper-filled bags–you didn’t even get a full step before you called out.

“Everyone stay in the kitchen! No peeking!” You warned, your voice commanding but playful. “I’m serious, if I catch one head in that hallway, I’m throwing dessert in the trash.”

That got a ripple of muffled laughter from the group.

“You act like we don’t eat dessert before dinner,” Yelena shouted back.

Despite your warning though, Bob didn’t get the memo.

You barely made it halfway to the living room, with the interns trailing behind you, when the sound of socked feet came pattering rapidly around the corner.

Bob appeared, cheeks flushed, his light brown hair a little mussed, his eyes wide and brimming with unfiltered concern. He wore a pair of black sweat pants and an oversized dark grey sweater that covered his broad frame, it made him look fragile and small–even though beneath his clothes it was far from the image he was trying to portray. You had caught glimpses of his body in little increments, sometimes by accident you would walk in as he was pulling on his shirt and you’d catch the lean muscles on his back flexing, once you saw his abs when he reached up to grab something, and once in a while you’d catch him with his sleeves rolled up, and you’d see the cool blue veins that rose from the planes of his forearms. Sometimes you wished you’d see more of him, but you were fine with what you had the privilege of seeing. He looked like he’d been waiting by the kitchen threshold all evening, just listening for the elevator.

“Hey—are you okay?” He asked, his voice already rushing. “I—I remembered what day it was, and I didn’t know if you wanted space or if you wanted company, but then you left without saying anything and I didn’t wanna crowd you but—”

“Bob!” You cut in quickly, spinning around to shield the bags with your body. “Close your eyes!” He startled like someone had set off a firecracker behind him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He blurted, immediately slapping his hands over his face. “I didn’t see anything! I swear…I only saw you, not the-uh-the stuff-whatever the stuff is…”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head as one of the interns behind you adjusted their grip on a delicate gift bag.

“Here,” You whispered to them, handing off what you were holding. “Take these into the living room...And thank you again for the help, oh and make sure the box is put in my room okay? First on the right.”

“No problem.” The intern nodded, already moving with the caution of someone who had been thoroughly briefed with the other intern trailing behind.

Once your hands were free, you turned back to Bob. He stood perfectly still with his palms mashed over his face like a kid in a surprise party gone wrong–lips pressed into a worried line, shoulders a little too rigid. You let out a soft sigh, stepping towards him–knowing you scared him a bit– and reached up for his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face slowly.

”You can open your eyes now…I didn’t mean to scare you…I just have a surprise for everyone. Sorry…” You said gently, watching as his lashes fluttered open, his eyes instantly meeting yours, with that all too familiar look–soft and worried and wired, like he had been on the edge of his seat waiting for your return.

”I-It’s okay…I was just…I was w-worried about y-you. I remembered what today was after Walker mentioned to me that you took the day off…And I felt like such an idiot f-for not che-.” Bob’s words halted immediately when your fingers touched his lips–just two of them, soft but still–to quietly tell him to stop talking. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the way his shoulders tensed under your touch, frozen like a deer in headlights. His eyes went wide, and then slowly his cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red, blooming from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears.

It was the kind of color that told you everything without a word.

You didn’t tease him for it. You didn’t move your hand right away either.

You just held his gaze, steady and gentle, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, your voice barely audible above the distant murmur of the others in the kitchen. “Really.”

His brows drew together just slightly, like he didn’t believe you entirely, like he was still cataloguing every detail of your expression for proof. But your hand stayed right there between you, steadying the weight that always seemed to pile up in his chest when he couldn’t fix things, or make you feel better.

You felt him breathe in–and that tiny shift, that barely-there exhale through his nose, was the signal that he heard you. That he believed you…Even if just for now.

You slowly dropped your hand, the warmth of your fingers leaving his skin with the ghost of your touch. He blinked, like coming out of a daze, and looked like he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Okay,” He said quietly. He was still flushed, avoiding your eyes, knowing that he just had to take your word for it, even though he knew how much this day was a dark reminder of what you were most ashamed of.

He only knew this because he had seen it.

In the O.X.E vault, after you, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Bob had barely escaped the incinerator, you had all collapsed into a breathless heap in one of the elevator areas., sweaty, and rattling with adrenaline. No one celebrated. It was too soon for that. Tension still clung to the air like smoke, and the five of you were still strangers.

You had sat against a wall, jaw clenched, blinking through the pain that was radiating from your ribs. The quietness was deafening.

Yelena hadn’t moved much. She sat cross-legged on the far end of the room, her elbows on her knees, and her sharp eyes trained on Bob–who was pacing a few feet away, muttering under his breath. His hands trembled slightly, and his voice barely registered above a whisper, like he was listing something he didn’t want to forget. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but just watching him pace in that mint green scrub set, made you tense up, there was just a feeling in those moments that something was wrong.

That’s when you noticed Yelena’s expression. Not skeptical. Not calculating. Just…off.

You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing as your ribs protested, and made your way toward her. She didn’t look up until you crouched beside her.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice low, “You hurt or something?” Her eyes didn’t leave Bob, when she shook her head at your question.

“I need you to touch him.” She whispered under her breath.

“Touch who?” You asked, shifting on your feet a bit, confused at what she was saying to you.

“Bob.” Her voice was even, but her brows furrowed. “I saw something…But I need to know if I’m just going crazy or if it was real.” You could feel yourself grow more and more concerned just by how shaken up she looked.

”Yelena…What did you see?” She shook her head at you.

”Can you just go do it? Please.” You stared at her for a second longer, then nodded. You didn’t understand it, but something in her voice had pulled up, like she was scared of something. You stood up and dusted your palms off, turning around to approach Bob, who was still pacing back and forth, taking four steps before turning and doing the same towards the other side, whispering to himself still.

Walker and Ava were still talking, strategizing how you were all going to get out, and neither of them noticed when you moved past them. Bob didn’t hear you coming either, he was too wrapped up in his own storm to even see your slow approach.

”Hey,” You said gently. He startled almost immediately, his eyes snapping to you like you had dropped him in a pot of ice cold water, “Do you mind coming with me for a second?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” He replied quickly, a reflexive panic in his voice, like he had done something bad, and he was afraid of being punished. You gave him a soft smile though, almost like you knew you needed to make yourself a little less aggressive, especially after he had seen you go head to head with Walker over something so minor you couldn’t even remember..

”I know, I just want to check something, okay?” He looked down at you with such hesitation that you honestly thought he was going to say no, but even back then he had a distinct soft spot reserved for you. His eyes were an odd shade of blue that day, and you had seen distinct little flecks of what seemed to be an off yellow peering through. Back then you chalked it up to being the lighting.

”…Okay.” He whispered. You gave him a little smile, and took hold of the sleeve of his scrub top, leading him towards the side of one of the concrete pillars, just far enough to shield you both from the rest of the group. The tension in Bob’s shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, being pulled away from the others made him more rigid, as if you were going to reprimand him.

“You hurt anywhere?” You asked, nodding toward his chest, his ribs, his shoulders.

“No…No…I mean, not really j-just some scratches and stuff b-but I’m okay, r-really.” You squinted at him, and you could see the way his breath hitched in his throat a little, like he was nervous or trying to hide something. Your eyes scanned over his dust covered face, watching him shift uncomfortably, as if being under your gaze felt like he was being smothered.

“Mind if I check?” He looked like he wanted to say no, like he wanted to tell you he was fine again so he could go back to his pacing, but instead, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arm up slowly to you, with his palm up.

You reached forward slowly, and grabbed his hand.

Then everything slipped.

The world around you–the gritty concrete, the stale air, the faint hum of the vault’s broken systems–all vanished in an instant, replaced by heat, light, and the faint crackle of fire.

Your body didn’t move, but your heart slammed like it was being punched. You knew this place. The ruined battlefield. The shattered husk of the Avengers compound after the snap had been reversed. Twilight bleeding across rubble. Smoke curling in the air. The air was so thick it clung to your skin like regret.

You saw them–Peter, Pepper, Rhodey. All of them gathered around the figure on the ground.

And there he was.

Your father.

Collapsed. Barely breathing. The right side of his face blistered from the energy surge of the Infinity Stones. His arc reactor flickering like the dying heartbeat it had become. His mouth was slack, his breathing shallow.

He was dying.

And you were nowhere near him.

But you had been. You remembered it clearly now, clearer than ever–how you had stepped forward when they pulled him from the wreckage. How you’d seen him, gasping for air. How you’d started walking toward him and then–froze. Stopped in your tracks.

You had walked away.

The grief you’d locked down in the deepest corners of yourself–boxed and buried for years–rushed back to the surface with the brutal weight of tidal force. Your knees hit the ground in the memory, even though your body in the vault hadn’t moved.

Your chest heaved.

Because this wasn’t a memory.

This was your shame.

The moment you’d never told anyone about. The moment even Pepper didn’t know. The moment you abandoned him because you couldn’t watch the man who raised you die.

And now Bob—Bob, who you barely knew at the time—was seeing it too. Sucked into the deepest darkest secret you had. You tried to pull away, but the memory gripped you like a vice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut.

Peter was crying.

Pepper leaned in and whispered something too quiet to hear.

And you–you were nowhere near him. You had your hands over your mouth, hiding behind a crumbled slab of wall, like a coward. Crying silently, too ashamed to show your face.

The memory ended like a door slamming shut.

The vault came crashing back into view. Cold. Harsh. Fluorescent.

And you stumbled backward, your hand jerking away from Bob’s as if it had burned you. Your back hit the pillar, hard, and you bent over, one hand gripping your ribs like they were splitting open. You were breathing heavily, but holding back the tears, because you needed to remain strong, you had to or else you weren’t going to get out of the vault alive.

Bob didn’t say anything at first.

He just stood there, his hand still half-raised like he hadn’t realized you’d let go. His chest rose and fell unevenly, not with fear, but with something more fragile—remorse, maybe. Guilt. A kind of stunned softness that only existed in people who had never been given permission to hold something that delicate, and now had to live with the knowledge that they did.

He didn’t look at you right away. He was staring at the spot where your hand had touched his, like it still lingered there.

“I-I’m sorry…” He whispered, which caused your head to snap up at him. You had been expecting confusion. Denial. Questions, maybe. But not an apology.

“I-I don’t know how to c-control it. I didn’t mean to do it.” He said under his breath, kind of like he was muttering it to himself. The strangest thing about it all though was that you didn’t feel angry. You should have. You should’ve been furious that he’d been pulled into something so private. But there was something in the way he looked at you now–like he understood you in a way–that made your breath catch.

“Just…Don’t tell anybody about this.” You said hoarsely, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, as you pushed yourself up off the pillar to recover.

”I-I won’t,” He said immediately, “I’d n-never do t-that, I-I promise.” He added, and you believed him.

Even though the moment passed, even though Walker barked something from across the room and Ava told everyone to regroup, even though Bob turned to leave first to give you space–you knew in your gut that it had shifted something.

And now, standing in the present day, in the quiet hallway outside the kitchen, you realized that he really did keep that promise he made all those months ago…But that just spoke to who Bob was, and who he had always been.

——————

The lights in the compound’s living room had been dimmed for movie night, the projector humming softly behind the couch as the team shuffled in with snacks in hand.

You stood in the middle of the chaotic scene of bags and boxes, arms crossed, eyeing them as they made their way over to their designated spots that they typically claimed during movie nights. Yelena kicked her feet up onto the coffee table like it was her birthright. Walker was already grumbling at Ava for stealing the corner seat he liked to stretch out in. Alexei lumbered over with a bowl of popcorn that definitely wasn’t for sharing, and Bucky, as always, took the spot by the far armrest, the one with the clearest view of the exit. Bob lingered near the back of the couch, waiting–always waiting–until he was sure everyone else was settled before choosing a spot closest to you.

You cleared your throat, but it barely registered above the chatter that was happening around you.

”Hey!” You exclaimed, and that’s when heads turned. Walker paused mid-bite. Yelena glanced over her shoulder. Bob straightened immediately like someone had called his full name in school. Even Bucky looked up, one brow arching in curiosity. The projector hadn’t started yet, but the anticipation for the movie had everyone on autopilot. Until now.

“I, uh…” You started, then immediately hated the sound of your own voice. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat, and tried again, “Before we start the movie, I need to say something.” They sat in anticipation, thinking that you were going to announce something either tragic, or shockingly happy. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you took a breath, the hush in the room now bordering on tense.

“Today’s always been a shitty day for me,” you said simply, and the honesty of it settled over them like dust. “Most of you probably figured that out. Some of you knew… or saw more than you were supposed to.” Your eyes flicked briefly toward Bob, and then back.

“But this year felt different. I didn’t want to sit with it by myself. I didn’t want to spend the day pretending it wasn’t happening just to make it easier to breathe.”

You exhaled.

“And I didn’t want to feel alone. So instead… I went shopping.”

There were a few scattered smiles at that. Ava smirked. Yelena tilted her head. Alexei made a noise that sounded like a chuckle and a snore at once.

“I got you all something. Nothing huge. Just things that made me think of you. Things I thought might make you smile. Because whether you like it or not, you’re my team now. You’re my people–my family. And I wanted to say thank you. For being here. For staying.”

You paused, blinking away the weight behind your eyes.

“For putting up with me.”

There was silence. But the kind that meant something. The kind you didn’t want to break too fast.

Then, you turned to the bags behind you and grabbed the first one.

“Ava,” you said, walking it over. “Noise-cancelling headphones and a pass to a rage room. Because, let’s be honest, we annoy the shit out of you.”

Ava cracked a genuine smile. “They better let me bring my own bat.”

“No promises.”

Next: “Yelena.” You passed her a smaller black box. “New utility belt. And some custom knives and batons I had made. Not saying you need them. But I also didn’t want to find out what would happen if you didn’t have them.”

Yelena grinned, flipping the latch open immediately. “You do love me.”

“Very much.” You replied with a smile.

“Walker,” You said, tossing him a medium-sized box that thunked heavily into his lap. “New pans, and a mini travel sized grill.”

“Thank God,” He muttered, already tearing the paper. “And they’re even better quality than the last ones.”

“Alexei.” You handed off two heavy bottles wrapped in tissue paper. “Vodka. The expensive kind.”

“Oh…Oh this is not going to survive night,” He replied, already cracking the top open.

“I figured.”

Then, you looked at Bucky.

“For you,” You said more quietly, stepping over and handing him a neatly wrapped parcel, “A metal polishing and cleaning kit, so you can stop using the dishwasher on your arm. And I got you an appointment for a bike detailing. Full job. New coat of black, too.”

He blinked slowly, surprised. “You remembered that?”

“You yelled about it for thirty minutes. I’d have to be concussed not to remember.”

He smiled. It was the small kind, but it stayed on his face longer than you expected.

You turned to Bob last, and something in your chest fluttered a little harder than you were ready for.

He was sitting upright, hands folded in his lap, trying not to look too eager, but his eyes flicked up to yours like he was bracing for impact. You walked over slowly, cradling the last item with more care than the others, and stopped just in front of him.

“This one’s for you,” You said gently, and handed him the book.

It wasn’t wrapped. No fancy paper, no ribbon–just a hardcover in a matte finish, with The Creative Act by Rick Rubin printed across the front in clean black letters.

Bob’s eyes flicked down to it. His hands moved slowly, reverent almost, as he turned the book over, like he wanted to feel the weight of it first before opening it. He ran his thumb along the edge before he finally slipped the front cover open–and there it was, tucked just inside the front page.

A handwritten note on a small square of folded paper that you had taken from Bob’s desk when you snuck in just before the movie.

Written in your slanted, slightly chaotic handwriting.

’The real gift is in your bedroom.’ Just the words alone affected him immediately.

His ears flushed red at first, before blooming down to his cheeks, and over his neck like a fire that couldn’t be put out. His eyes darted up to you, then back to the page, like he was checking to make sure if he’d read it right.

Then, with a bit too much urgency, he shut the book. Yelena was already leaning over from her seat to look at him.

”What’d you get?” She asked, her voice laced with amusement, seeing the deep blush that continued to burn on his cheeks.

”Yeah, let’s see,” Walker added, craning his neck, “It didn’t even have wrapping. What is it?” Bob shook his head quickly, holding the book close to his chest like it might be pried from him if he held it out too far from him.

”It’s…It’s j-just a book.” Everyone exchanged glances at one another, then looked over at you, then Bob.

”You’re turning that red over a book?” Ava raised an eyebrow. You watched as Bob sank slightly into himself, clutching the book like it was something far more scandalous than a hardcover on creative philosophy.

“You didn’t even open it all the way, you just opened the cover.” Yelena added.

”I-I don’t have to,” He stammered, adjusting the book in his arms, “It’s o-one Y/N and I saw at the b-bookstore a while ago that’s all.” Now all eyes turned to you. You gave a small, innocent smile.

“It really is just a book guys,” You said simply, meeting their suspicious looks with a calm ease, “Like Bob said…We saw it at the bookstore a while ago and he didn’t buy it. So I just got it for him now. No big deal.” Then you went to the couch to take up your space, looking back at Bob who was already coming to sit in the space that was available beside you. “Now…We can commence movie night.” You added, feeling Bob adjust beside you slightly, bumping his knee against yours almost like he was giving you a nudge, before settling in completely.

——————-

Eventually, everyone fell asleep in their spots apart from you and Bob.

The projector had long since gone dark, the soft white glow replaced by the quiet hush of breath and shifting limbs. The living room had become a patchwork of tangled limbs, half-eaten snacks, and drooping blankets. You and Bob sat in the warm silence at the edge of it all, knees still brushing where they’d been for the past hour.

He hadn’t opened the book again–not since that first flustered glance. But his fingers never stopped grazing the edges of the cover. He was still holding onto it carefully, like it might slip through his hands if he blinked too fast. You leaned toward him slightly, just enough so that your shoulder nudged him to get his attention.

”Hey,” You whispered. He glanced over at you, like he’s been waiting for you to say something because he was too scared to do it himself, “Wanna see your real gift now?” You asked, a small smile appearing on your lips. Bob could feel his heart pumping out of his chest as he began to overheat like a furnace.

“Y-Yeah…I mean…Y-yeah if you’re ready to s-show me.” You rose slowly, careful not to kick over a stray popcorn bowl or stir anyone from their half-snoring sprawl. Your eyes flicked briefly over the room to make sure no one was stirring—Yelena had curled into a blanket cocoon, Walker was snoring like a truck engine, and Alexei’s head had slumped against the back of the couch, drool threatening the upholstery. Bucky’s eyes were shut, but you could tell by the slight twitch in his jaw he was only pretending to sleep, which was typical for him. Turning back to Bob, you extended your hand toward him, palm open, wrist loose.

“Come on,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Just make sure to be quiet cause if they wake up we’ll never hear the end of it.” He nodded–one firm, terrified little nod–and slid his fingers into yours. His hand was warm and clammy, but you didn’t mind the feeling. Quite honestly, you wished he did this more often, because it gave you this ease, the kind that only he truly provided. You squeezed his hand gently before tugging him up onto his feet, and he followed like you’d cast a spell over him.

You led him carefully through the living room, toes skimming across the floor like a cat, weaving between bodies and blankets until you reached the edge of the wing that led to your rooms.

The hallway was dim and quiet, the only light coming from the soft golden hue of the floor runners and the faint spill of moonlight through the high windows. You padded down the hardwood floor hand in hand, every step muffled, every breath shared. Bob stayed impossibly close to you, so close in fact that you could practically feel his breath on your neck, as if putting too much space between the both of you might make the whole moment disappear.

When you reached his door, you stopped just short of the frame and turned to him with a look that was half excitement, half warning.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to cover your eyes.” You whispered, looking up at him with one of the soft smiles you always gave him when you needed him to do something for you.

“W-What? Why?” He asked quietly under his breath, still holding onto your hand, only it was a little tighter now, probably from the nerves that were clawing away in the pit of his stomach.

“Just trust me…You won’t regret it.” Bob let out a quiet, breathy laugh–more like a whimper, really–and gave you the softest, most defeated sigh, like his heart had already left his chest and he was just trying to keep his limbs from shaking.

“A-Alright…” He whispered, leaning just a little closer to you, close enough that you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks, “Just…Just don’t let m-me trip or walk into something…Please.” You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Hasn’t happened before, and I’m not planning on letting that happen now.” You teased, before softly adding “Now…Close your eyes.” Bob obeyed, raising his free hand over his face with careful fingers, blocking his vision as if you were leading him into a sacred place rather than his own bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot and gave his hand a gentle tug, leading him across the threshold.

You didn’t need to turn on a light.

His room always felt a little like stepping into a different plane of calm. The kind of space that knew quiet in its bones. Moonlight fell in soft silver lines across the floor through his half-open blinds, slicing the darkness into gentle pieces. The windows of his room were quite large, which was the reason why everyone assigned it to him, because if he ever had an episode and didn’t want to come out of his room, he would at least get some sunlight.

His bed was unmade, but it was clean, it always was–Bob didn’t like messes too much, and the comforter was crumpled in a way that suggested he hadn’t been able to stay still for more than a minute. His nightstand had a glass of water and a half-melted candle that still smelled faintly like lavender, which was something that he had learned calmed him through you. There were books stacked under the window. T-shirts folded too neatly on the open shelves. A jacket draped on the chair in the corner.

His room was basically a manifestation of things he picked up from you and bits and pieces of himself that he couldn’t shake. It was a perfect balance, especially when he was too scared to go to your room when you were out on missions–when he was missing you terribly.

And then–right there in the center of the room, illuminated perfectly by the soft glow spilling through the curtains–was the record player.

Matte black, sleek, minimalist. Quiet in its confidence. It sat on a low wooden console table that you had bought pre-assembled. Beside it, propped open just slightly, was a padded carrying case–and inside there were three of your records that he had constantly put on whenever he would end up in your room: Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, Last Splash by The Breeders, and Elton John’s Self Titled.

On nights like these–when you had nothing to do–Bob would come and listen to a record with you while lying on your bed. The both of you would stare at the ceiling and talk, usually it was about anything and nothing at all, that’s just how it had always been. Sometimes you guys would touch, hold hands just as a source of comfort, but it never went further than that, because neither of you wanted to possibly put the friendship in jeopardy.

Tonight would be one of those nights that you would be able to lie with him thankfully.

You looked up at Bob who was still shielding his eyes even though he was clearly trembling with anticipation. You gave the hand that was intertwined with yours one last squeeze and leaned close enough that your arms brushed.

”Alright,” You whispered, “You can open them now.” Bob’s hand dropped from his eyes like he was lifting the lid on something sacred.

And the second his gaze landed on the record player, his entire face changed.

His shoulders softened, his chest lifted like he’d just taken the first real breath in hours–and then came the smile. Wide, radiant, boyish. One that reached all the way up to his eyes and cracked something open in you.

He stepped forward slowly, like he was approaching something precious. His fingers hovered above the turntable for a moment before he crouched down in front of it, knees tucked in, head tilted with something like awe. The soft light haloed around him, catching on the strands of his hair and the curve of his jaw. You saw his lips part slightly, saw the way he swallowed thickly.

Then his sleeve came up–quick and almost sheepish–and he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his wrist. He thought you wouldn’t notice if he did it quickly but you knew his tells, and you knew when something was wrong with him. When he let out a small sniffle, you were at his side in an instant.

“Bob?” You whispered, dropping to your knees beside him, voice soft, uncertain. “Hey…What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just shook his head quickly, eyes still fixed on the player.

“Nothing–Nothing’s wrong,” He said quickly, but his voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just–God–this is…It’s too much.”He whispered to himself, pressing a trembling hand to his eyes again to wipe off another set of tears.

Your brows knit together, and you lifted a hand instinctively, hovering just above his shoulder but not quite touching.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just–”

“I love it,” He interrupted gently, finally turning to face you. His eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed, and there was that dazed smile again, wide and aching. “I love it so much.”

You let out a soft, quiet exhale, the kind you didn’t even know you were holding, relieved that you didn’t do anything wrong.

And then–without warning–he leaned into you.

Not cautiously. Not halfway.

Fully.

Bob wrapped his arms around you with all the care and all the weight of someone who had wanted to do it for a very long time. One arm slid around your lower back while the other curled protectively around your shoulders, tucking you against him like you were the only thing he could hold onto. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and you felt his breath hitch against your neck.

You froze for just a second–stunned by the sheer intensity of it–before you melted into him. Your arms wound around his back, your hands gripping at the soft fabric of his sweater. You closed your eyes and held him, not just because you were trying to comfort him, but also because you needed it just as much as he did.

Bob breathed in deeply, inhaling your warmth, and your sweet scent–a mixture of iris and clementines. He said you smelled like summer to him once, and he stuck by that even to this day, because it was intoxicating to him, and it was you…That’s what he liked most.

Your hand drifted up slowly to the back of his neck, letting your fingers brush through his hair with a tenderness so natural it almost startled you. He didn’t flinch, or shy away, instead you felt him melt into you just a little more, like your touch was untying the knots that were within him.

“I-I’m sorry,” He murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder, “I-I didn’t mean to cry…No one’s ever gotten me something t-this nice before.” You let out a soft huff against him, pulling back just enough so you could look at him, your fingers curling gently so you were cradling the back of his head.

”Bob…” You whispered, then smiled with a soft ache, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m glad it means something to you…” He looked up at you with wide, glassy blue eyes, still watering slightly at the corners.

”It really…It really does…It-It means everything to me Y/N…” He replied.

A silence settled between the both of you in that moment, not awkward but charged–thick with feelings that were just cresting on the horizon. You brought your other hand up to his face, letting your thumb brush along the curve of his jaw before you dropped it to rest over his chest, right where you could feel his heartbeat drumming just under the fabric of his sweater. When you pressed a little harder you could feel the muscle flex against your touch,–a reflex from Bob.

“So…Uh…Does this mean I c-can’t come to your r-room anymore to listen to vinyls?” You raised an eyebrow at that comment, leaning in just a little so your noses were almost touching, as you allowed the edge of your voice to dip playfully.

”Actually…It’s an excuse for me to come in here once in a while.” He was taken aback by your comment, but it had hit him like a lightning bolt.

His mouth parted slightly, eyes locking with yours as if you just upended gravity. You could see when it fully clicked for him–what it meant, what you wanted it to mean. The warmth in his face scattered deeper now, but this time, he didn’t look away.

”W-Well then…I-I think you should use that e-excuse…A-All the time then.” You tilted your head a bit, a smirk coming up on your lips, realizing what he was giving back now.

”All the time hm?” He nodded, keeping his eyes glued to yours, his pupils dilating slightly to adjust more to the darkness, and to take more of you in.

”A-As much as you want Y/N...Every n-night even i-if you want.” Your heart fluttered–too loud, too strong–but you didn’t let it show except for the little smile that cracked wide across your face. You slid your hand up to the collar of his sweater, your thumb running along the thin skin on his neck.

“Well,” You said, leaning in, “Why don’t we start now then…” Bob didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because the second those words left your lips–why don’t we start now then–the air between you changed. Like it folded in on itself. Like the gravity in the room evaporated completely and every ounce of tension that had lived in stolen glances and almost-touches finally snapped tight, pulling the two of you together like you’d never really meant to be apart in the first place.

Your lips found his.

Soft. Certain. Slow at first–just a press. Just a whisper of something that had been waiting so long to be real. Bob shuddered under you, like every nerve in his body had lit up at once. His hands came up instinctively, almost blindly—one settling on your waist, the other cradling the curve of your back like he was afraid you’d vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Breathing into each other between the spaces. Your mouths never fully parted–they just shifted, adjusted, and learned. His lips moved with yours like he was starved for the taste, like he had imagined it so many times but never dared to believe he’d ever actually feel it. You felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, felt the way he tensed, and then eased, melting into it like he finally believed it was happening.

When you moved closer to him Bob let out the softest gasp into your mouth, it was barely a sound, but it still hit you like an electric current. You deepened the kiss, tilting your head as your hands slid higher into his hair. You gripped at the soft strands and gave them a gentle tug, just enough to guide his head back just a little–earning a low, breathless sound, stealing it straight out of his chest.

With trembling strength, Bob shifted, pulling you with him slowly until you were in his lap, your knees sliding on either side of his thighs, straddling him. His hands gripped at your hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt like you were something holy to him. When your weight settled over him completely it made Bob feel like the world had gone totally quiet–like he could live in this moment and never need anything else for survival.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his as your fingers brushed his flushed cheeks. Bob’s lips were still parted, his breath coming in soft, stuttered exhales that fanned across your mouth. His hands had stilled on your hips, still holding you like he was scared to grip too tightly, like if he held too hard you might vanish again.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, voice low and weighted with something deeper than just desire. Bob nodded immediately, so fast it was almost a flinch.

“Y-Yeah,” He breathed, “Y-Yeah, anything you want–just–God, I want you to take whatever y-you want.”

You smiled, touching your nose to his briefly, before leaning back enough to sit upright on his lap. Bob’s hands stayed where they were, unmoving, as if he was afraid to go any further unless you guided him. And you would. Because this was yours to take if you wanted it–and he had already given it so freely.

Your hands slipped to the hem of your shirt, and you pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered over your skin as it came off, and you dropped it onto the floor beside you without looking away from him.

Bob’s breath hitched.

You were wearing a thin, slate-colored bra–and barely anything between your body and the chill in the air. The moonlight caught on the curve of your breasts and the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, but it also revealed more than just your skin.

Faint, jagged lines kissed across your ribs and shoulders. Scars from old missions, burns, nicks, remnants of the life you’d led before this–before the Thunderbolts. Each one a story you rarely told. Some puckered. Some silver. A few newer, still healing. They caught the light and glimmered in ways they never had before–because now, someone was really looking at them. You saw Bob’s eyes flicker down over them like he was cataloging each one with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that made your throat tighten.

And then there was the necklace.

Stark tech. Thin chain. Sleek design. The pendant was small, flat, shaped like a coin and glowing faintly from within–pulse blue, soft as breath. It had been a gift from Tony. A prototype for a fail-safe, disguised as a keepsake. Only a few people in the compound even knew it wasn’t just jewelry. You never explained it, never offered context. But you didn’t move to hide it now

His eyes lifted again–tentative, trembling–and met yours. You saw the way he swallowed hard, saw the way he tried to stop himself from looking lower, like he didn’t want to disrespect the moment. But his gaze dropped again anyway, helpless against the gravity of you. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He looked stunned.

“I know,” You murmured, softer this time, like you were trying to soothe the bashful panic behind his wide-eyed stare. “It’s a lot.”

“No–n-no, it’s not–” Bob’s voice cracked as he tried to sit up straighter, his hands tightening a little on your hips. “You’re–God, you’re beautiful, and it’s e-everything I imagined.” You tilted your head to the side, a teasing glint blooming behind your eyes as you traced your fingers slowly up his arms.

”You’ve imagined this?” You asked, voice light but thick with hea, watching Bob’s entire face turn a deeper shade of red in the moonlight, like he was caught committing a crime. His lips parted as he scrambled for a respectful response, but you didn’t give him a chance. You leaned in, lips hovering just above his, your breath slipping into his mouth as you whispered, “What else have you imagined?” Bob exhaled shakily, the sound brushing your mouth. His hands flexed unconsciously on your hips as though trying to ground himself–like if he didn’t hold onto you, he might drift right out of the moment.

“I’ve…” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the heavy breathing the both of you were doing, “T-Thought about touching you…Like t-this.” He began to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving a trail of heat and wetness from his lips all the way down to your neck, before he opened his mouth against you, right below your ear, placing a lingering kiss that made you push your chest against his with the heat that curled around you.

“I’ve t-though about what your s-skin would feel against m-mine,” He murmured, trembling as his lips traced the column of your throat, “And how you would sound i-if I kissed you h-here…” He added, placing a kiss against your pulse point, listening to the small sigh that escaped your mouth.

His breath was shaky against your neck as his lips lingered at the little patch of skin that thumped against his touch, his nose brushing against the soft dip of your throat while his hands remained firmly planted on your hips–too still, too solid, like he didn’t trust himself to move without falling apart.

But then, as if pulled by some gravitational force he could no longer fight, one of his hands slid upward. Slowly. Tentatively. Fingertips brushing over the hem of your bra, skimming your ribs, following the curve of your waist until they reached the delicate strap resting on your shoulder. His knuckles trembled, but his touch was impossibly gentle, as if even the fabric you wore deserved to be worshipped.

He kissed your jaw again–open-mouthed, soft–and then you felt the light tug at your shoulder as he slipped the strap down. The fabric eased across your skin with a quiet drag, and you shivered beneath it, watching the way his eyes followed the path like it was sacred scripture.

His lips returned to your skin, grazing over the hollow of your collarbone before whispering into it–so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

”C-Can I look?” You nodded.

”Yes…Of course.” You whispered. His hand twitched where it rested at the curve of your spine, and then, with a sort of hesitance that nearly broke you, he slid his hand up to the clasp of your bra, his fingertips brushing clumsily along them, missing the latch twice. You couldn’t help but smile at the fumbling, as he let out a breathy, nervous laugh against your skin, while his forehead dropped to your shoulder in a sheepish show of surrender.

”I-I swear I’m trying,” He murmured, the corners of his lips curling up. You laughed with him, soft and unhurried, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve got it,” You said, reaching one arm behind yourself with practiced ease. The clasp gave one tiny click and you slid the loose straps down your arms, letting it join your t-shirt that was beside you. When you straightened back up, bare now in the soft glow of the moonlight, Bob didn’t move at first, he just stared.

Not in a greedy way, not in the way you were used to being looked at, it was with such desire and want it made your stomach turn. Like he was trying to memorize the details of your body so when he closed his eyes he’d be able to picture it.

His hands slid up slowly from your waist, palms wide, cautious, and trembling just slightly as they moved to trace along your ribs. His thumbs brushed upward–barely skimming the outer swell of your breasts–before he let out a long, shaky breath and leaned in. His lips pressed to the curve of your breast, just above your heart, and you felt the sigh leave him as he held you like you were something holy.

You curled your fingers into his hair, watching him.

“Bob…” You whispered, but it was barely a sound.

He lifted his head just long enough to meet your gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his lips already kiss-bitten and pink.

“I-I’ve imagined this so many times,” He said softly, almost apologetically. “But it never felt like this. I-It never felt this real.”

And then his mouth returned to your skin–this time lower.

He kissed across the top of your breast, then the underside, open-mouthed, so gentle you almost whimpered. His tongue barely grazed, only enough to tease, to taste. You felt the warmth of him, the way he held one breast up in his hand with delicate fingers while he mouthed softly at the other. You gasped when his lips closed over your nipple, sucking gently, and your back arched toward him without meaning to.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of his sweater, then under his shirt, fingers meeting hot, bare skin. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, pulling back from your chest just enough to pant softly against it.

“C-Cold hands,” He whispered breathlessly, grinning faintly against your skin even though his whole body was burning with heat. “Or maybe I’m j-just really warm…” You laughed again, low and soft.

“You are, I think I can even feel your blood boiling.” You joked, keeping your hands under his shirt, palms smoothing across his back and up over the planes of his stomach and chest. You could feel how solid he was beneath you–not just strong, but sensitive, pliant, like he wanted to give all of himself over to your hands, your mouth, your gaze.

And he did.

Bob went back to your breasts, now kissing them between worshipful sighs and breathless, choked words.

“You’re so…So soft,” He murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your sternum. “So warm… I didn’t know it could feel like this. I-I didn’t know it could feel this good just…Just to be close to you...”

You felt a swell of something tender and aching crash into your chest.

You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he’d look at you. And he did with red-cheeks, wide-eyes, and lips that were still shining faintly from the saliva that coated them. And then you leaned in again and kissed him—deeper this time. Slower. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting him, letting him taste you.

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist again and this time, he moved.

“C-Can I…” He panted into the kiss, “Can I bring you to t-the bed?”You nodded against his lips.

“Yes, Bob. Please.” He stood slowly, hands steadying you as he rose, and then–without any real effort at all–he lifted you into his arms. You clutched at his shirt as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

”Jesus, sometimes I forget you’re a superhuman basically…” He laughed–nervous but proud that he surprised you with his strength.

”I d-don’t really show it off, so I don’t b-blame you for forgetting.” He murmured, as his skin continued to heat up against you. He walked the two of you the short distance to the unmade bed and lowered you gently onto the cold sheets.

But instead of climbing on top of you, he slid in beside you, curling close–not out of hesitation, but intimacy.

You turned onto your side, your body instinctively seeking him, and hooked one leg over his hip, bringing your thigh around him and pulling him in. The moment he was close enough, you kissed him again–your hands sliding up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft brown strands at the back of his head.

Immediately, he melted into the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth–barely audible, but it vibrated through your chest, and curled low in your stomach– where the tension began to build. Your lips moved against each other in a rhythm that felt like it had been written in the marrow of your bones, like the both of you belonged there together in that moment.

And then Bob pulled back–just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, eating away at the lush blue, his lips were wet and parted as he breathed shallowly, trembling slightly.

”I-I wanna feel everything,” He whispered.

Then with a move that felt bolder than anything he’d ever done, he pulled at the collar of his sweater, pulling it off. The hem dragged over his head, catching slightly on his hair before he tossed it aside, his t-shirt following soon after–slightly rumpled and damp from how hot he was getting.

The moonlight etched the shape of him–slender but strong, pale skin kissed splashed with little drops of freckles and barely-there scars. You saw the muscles move under the skin of his stomach when he breathed in, saw the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to stay steady in a storm of want.

He slid his arm under your neck and around your shoulders, pulling you close, gathering you into the crook of his body like he needed every inch of contact. Your leg stayed hooked over his waist, your hips now pressed firmly together, heat and need blooming where your bodies touched.

His hand slid slowly down your spine, palm wide, curling gently around the dip of your lower back.

And then he kissed you again.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rushed. It was molten. Deep. Slow and desperate.

You could feel the way his lips moved with a kind of hunger that didn’t want to consume you–it wanted to worship every inch of you.

As your tongues brushed, you shifted your hips, rolling gently against the line of his thigh. His breath hitched, a surprised little gasp breaking the kiss.

And then his knee shifted.

He tilted his leg slightly between yours, giving you the perfect angle to move against him–and you did. Slowly at first. Just the press of your body rocking into his. You moaned softly against his lips as you rolled your hips again, dragging yourself along him with just the right amount of pressure. It wasn’t loud, but it vibrated between your mouths, slipping into him like a secret you wanted him to feel in his bones.

His lips barely touched yours now–just ghosting–warm and open and trembling, like he was terrified to break the moment. You breathed in at the same time he exhaled, your lips parting in tandem, and it felt like you were drinking each other in. Breath passed between you in small, shared gasps, heat curling where mouths nearly met, where words became vapor.

“Bob…” You whispered into him, and his name felt like silk on your tongue.

The air between your mouths wasn’t even air anymore. It was communion. Heat. Exchange. Like you were tethered by the sheer force of needing each other. His nose brushed yours. Your foreheads pressed together. His breath hit your tongue before it hit his own lungs.

And still–you craved Bob’s touch even more.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers skimming over his wrist before curling around it gently. His pulse jumped under your touch.

You guided his hand down until his knuckles met the waistband of your sweatpants. His breath faltered.

“I need more…” You whispered, voice raw and low–on the brink of begging, “Please…”

Bob didn’t speak at first. He just nodded, quickly like that word please had been carved into him. Then, with trembling fingers, he tugged at the tie of your sweatpants, undoing the bow with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred.

As he did, your fingers slipped down to the tie of his–mirroring him. Equal.

He froze just a little.

“W-What…What are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking like a matchstick in the dark.

Your hand kept working the knot, lips hovering over his, your nose brushing his as you breathed:

“I don’t want to be the only one being touched like this.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, jaw tightening, chest rising as he tried to hold himself together. But your voice–your need–had undone him completely. He nodded again, slower this time, gaze trailing down to where your hands were now at each other’s waistbands.

And then you both moved.

It wasn’t graceful–no art to it. Just need. Just fumbling, frantic hands pushing sweatpants down over hips, wriggling out of the fabric together in a tangle of half-laughs and sharp breaths and grazes of skin.

Your legs kicked the soft fabric off the edge of the bed and his did the same.

And then you were back–wrapped around each other again. The arm beneath your head pulled you in slowly, as his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, fingers curling slightly like he needed to grab onto something to keep him in the moment. Your thigh returned to his hip, locking yourself into him, and the kiss you shared was now pure fire. It was teeth and tongue and breath and a low, desperate sound torn straight from his throat.

You kissed him like you couldn’t get deep enough. Like you’d climb inside his chest if he let you. And he would. He would.

His hand slid up the back of your neck and into your hair as your mouth’s finally slowed, pulling back slightly to breathe. Your lips stayed apart for him, letting a whisper of space between you.

Your noses touched. His forehead pressed to yours. And when you opened your eyes, he was already staring–flushed and wide and wrecked in the most beautiful way.

Then Bob’s hand moved. Slowly. Purposefully.

He brought it to your mouth, two fingers extended–not tentative, but gently.

“Let me,” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your mouth just a little more for him. You took his fingers in without hesitation, wrapping your tongue around them, wetting them with slow, deliberate passes. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath shaking as you sucked softly–just enough to coat them in warmth.

When he withdrew, he immediately slid his hand down. Beneath your underwear.

And when his fingers found you–hot, wet, already aching for him–he moaned into your cheek.

“Oh, God…” Was all he could choke out, as he slid through your arousal, slow and careful, dragging every drop of slickness to your clit in gentle circles. You gasped–your whole body arching forward into him, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers against you.

Your hand moved too now–down his chest, over the soft lines of his abdomen–until your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He hissed at the contact, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You found him hard and hot in your hand, thick and twitching under your fingers as you wrapped around him, stroking slow. Just once. Just enough to feel him jump in your palm.

Bob groaned, low and guttural against your skin.

You both moved together, hands working in tandem–your touch on him firm and steady, his fingers stroking you in slow circles until he dipped one inside. Then another. Stretching you gently, curling just enough to make your breath catch, your thighs tremble.

The bed creaked softly beneath you as the both of you writhed beneath each others hands

Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth. You moved together like a tide pull–rocking, gasping, fingers slipping and sliding against one another.

Bob adjusted himself slightly, pressing closer to you, before moving his fingers quicker now–they were still gentle, but there was more purpose to his movements. Like he couldn’t help it. Like your body had hypnotized him into doing exactly what you needed him to do, and his only job was to listen. The pads of his fingers pressed and curled inside you, while his thumb circled your clit with more pressure than before, and the sensation that came from this change bloomed in sharp and immediate trembles.

You gasped–high and sudden–your head tilting back into the solidness of his arm that was wrapped around the back of your neck. Your hand that was wrapped around him, stilled. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It was too much.

Your free hand flew to his shoulder, fingers digging in, nails curling against the slope of muscle. You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the bed, to the moment, to yourself.

Bob’s breath caught as he felt you seize around him, as he watched your eyes flutter and your mouth part in a soundless moan that finally broke into a quiet, desperate whimper. His name left your lips like a secret you’d never told anyone else–torn from the center of you. He could feel it, the way your body trembled against him, the way your muscles clenched around his fingers in tight, rhythmic pulses.

And he watched.

He watched you come undone with a look of sheer awe painted across his face. His lips parted slightly, eyes fixed on yours, and then on your mouth, like he couldn’t decide what was more beautiful: the way you looked when you fell apart, or the sound of his name when you did.

Your brows furrowed with the force of it, your thighs tightening around his hips, your breath breaking apart like waves crashing on rock.

Bob didn’t stop—not until he felt you ride the last crest of it, your body softening again beneath him. And when you finally blinked, eyes unfocused and lips still parted, he leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Reverent. Almost trembling.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, gently, like he didn’t want to startle you after such a fragile, shattering moment. You shivered at the loss, and he whispered something into your skin—too soft to make out. But his breath was warm. His lips were warm.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

His hand hovered between you, the slick still glistening faintly in the low light. But he didn’t wipe it away. He just looked at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever seen.

“C-Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice thick with longing, with excitement, with the weight of everything he was holding back.

His hand ghosted over the band of your underwear, waiting.

You nodded slowly, still breathless, still catching your bearings.

”Yes…Yes please…Please just do what you want to me Bob…I’m already yours.” The moment those words left your lips, one thing inside Bob snapped like a wire that had been wrapped too tight. It wasn’t in a wild, unruly way though. No–this was quiet, controlled, but powerful.

His breath shuddered in his chest as he surged forward to kiss you harder this time, deepening it almost instantly. It was desperate but gently, like he needed to pour all the feelings he couldn’t say into your mouth, into the space between your teeth and tongue and breath.

As he kissed you, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the last barrier down slowly, reverently. His knuckles skimmed your thighs, your hips, the swell of your backside. The fabric clung slightly, then surrendered, pooling around your knees before you helped kick it away.

Bob’s hand dipped next to his own waistband, and you could feel the moment he slid his briefs off. The subtle lift of his hips. The faint brush of heat and bare skin against yours. He was pressed close now–every inch of him.

And when you looked down between your bodies, when your eyes caught the sight of him fully bared–his length flushed light red and thick, curving slightly, the tip glistening with need–you felt heat flood every nerve in your body. The moment was more than just physical. It was overwhelming. He was ready, so ready, not just in body but in soul, in the way he looked at you like you were gravity and breath and sky all at once.

Bob swallowed hard, as if he could feel you seeing all of him, as if the intimacy of being witnessed so completely was almost too much to bear.

But he didn’t look away.

Instead, he shifted–slowly, carefully–until he was over you. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of your body, muscles tense as though he were anchoring himself to the world. You welcomed him with a soft sigh, parting your legs wider to cradle his hips, letting him settle into the space that had always been meant for him–since the day you realized you wanted him like this.

He leaned down first–pressing a kiss to your chest. Right between your breasts. Then another to the slope of one, then the other. Then higher. His lips grazed your sternum, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Each kiss was warm, slow, and sacred.

By the time his mouth found yours again, you were breathless from just the journey of it.

He kissed you with everything. Not just hunger, but reverence. Like your lips were a language he’d studied for years but only just learned how to speak.

And then–without a word–he reached for your hand.

You let him take it easily, watching the way his long fingers wrapped around yours. He brought it up gently, pressing it down into the mattress beside your head, his grip secure but soft–like he wanted to hold you in place but never trap you.

That one motion nearly undid you.

It wasn’t restraint.

It was his way of closeness. The kind that made you feel tethered to him, like your bodies weren’t just aligned–they were entwined, they were marking. Like they were made to be this close. Built for this level of intimacy for only each other.

His forehead rested against yours again. You could feel every exhale fan across your lips.

“I wanna go slow,” He whimpered, voice breaking like dusk light through the curtains. “I wanna…Wanna feel all of you…Every second of you…”

You reached your free hand up to his face, and your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, slow and tender, like you were tracing the edge of a secret only you were allowed to know. His skin was warm beneath your touch–warmer than it had ever been–and you could feel the tremble in his breath as he waited, eyes searching yours like they were the only compass he had left.

“And I want you to lose yourself in me.” You replied. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment he just breathed like your words had cracked something open in his chest. When he looked at you again, there was something new behind his expression–like awe and fear had melted into devotion.

“If anything becomes too much, you have to tell me…” He said, voice almost broken with the weight of care. You nodded, but your hand tightened in his.

”It won’t…But I promise if it does I will tell you.” He dipped his head lower again, as if he couldn't bear the space between your mouths any longer, and pressed a kiss to your lips again absorbing the softness of them, the warmth. Your hand threaded through his hair, fingertips curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him so he was pressed right against you.

And then–his hand moved down between your bodies. You felt the slow drag of his palm against the outside of your thigh, then the careful slide of his fingers as he reached down and guided himself to you. He breathed out when he felt you coat him, your wetness catching on every ridge of him as he slid himself against your entrance–once, twice, gathering all of you onto him. His body twitched with restraint. His jaw clenched. He pressed his forehead harder against yours as if the contact was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.

The moment he pushed in, your bodies stopped breathing.

Your mouth parted with a gasp–sharp and soft–as he sank into you slowly, inch by inch, until you felt your body stretch and adjust to every curve of him. Bob choked on a breath the second he felt your warmth take him in, his face screwing up in something between a sob and a moan. His forehead pressed harder against yours, like if he moved any other way he’d fall apart.

“God–oh, God…” He whispered, voice ragged and frayed at the edges. “Holy…You’re…You’re so” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He was too overwhelmed by the feel of you wrapped around him, every pulse and tremble drawing him deeper into the haze of you.

Your hand clenched tighter in his, and you felt the way his fingers locked with yours, grounding himself with your grip as he bottomed out. A low, aching sound slipped from your throat and caught in the space between your lips, and you felt it shake against his mouth as he kissed you again–slow, reverent, his tongue barely brushing yours as he tried to breathe.

“You’re doing so good,” You whispered into him, your voice like silk over fire. “Just stay right there. Just let me feel you…”

He whimpered at that, a broken noise into your mouth, like the praise undid him. He didn’t move–couldn’t, not yet at least. He was just holding himself there, buried inside you, feeling the way your body fluttered around him.

“I-It’s like…Like you’re pulling me apart,” He said, breathless. “And putting me back together all at once…”

His hand left yours slowly, reluctantly, fingers sliding down your wrist with a feather-light touch as he reached for your thigh. You felt it happen in stages–the way his hand cradled the back of your knee, the way he gently guided your leg up higher on his waist, opening you up further, angling himself deeper.

The shift made your breath catch. He slid in even further, the new position sending a wave of pressure right through your core, and you gasped into his mouth. Bob groaned–breathlessly low, lost—and his hips jolted forward once, like he couldn’t help himself.

You could feel him trembling above you, his hand still gripping your thigh like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“I need…” he murmured into your neck, voice barely coherent, “Need to be closer—need to feel all of you.”

“You are,” You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re already in every part of me.”

He rocked into you, slow at first–agonizing in its care–like he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made when he moved. Your bodies stayed pressed together, chest to chest, lips to jaw, gasps shared like breathless secrets.

And then you reached up.

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, until your fingers slid gently into his mouth. Bob’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and stunned–and then he groaned, low in his chest, as he closed his lips around them.

You watched him–watched his lashes flutter, his breath hitch, the way his hips stuttered forward harder now, more desperate, like the taste of you on his tongue had undone something deep and buried inside him.

You moaned at the sight of it–at the way he sucked your thumbs, not rough, but with such reverence you almost passed out, on the brink of obedience.

You slipped your thumbs from his mouth slowly, watching the glossy string of saliva stretch and catch in the moonlight like silk spun from reverence. Bob’s lips stayed parted, his breath hot against your fingers, his tongue brushing the edge of one thumb as you pulled it away. And then, without breaking the contact, you trailed the damp touch down his jaw–soft, deliberate, leaving a glistening line in its wake.

His whole body stilled.

You felt him twitch inside you, felt the sharp inhale he tried and failed to control. And then your fingers tilted his chin up.

“Look at me,” You whispered, your voice low and rich with everything you couldn’t say with words alone. His eyes lifted to yours like he was coming up for air, like your gaze was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the moment completely. He looked wrecked–beautifully so. Lips kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed to the tips of his ears, pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes completely now. You could see every flicker of awe in his expression, every ounce of need, of surrender. You brushed your fingers along the edge of his jaw, then swept them up into his hair, pushing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead with aching tenderness. His breath caught when you did it, like your touch alone unraveled something buried too deep for him to reach.

“You’re doing so good…You feel so good inside me, Bob.” You whispered, voice like velvet as your thumbs stroked the sides of his face. His hips stuttered forward—once, then again. A trembling gasp slipped from his throat as he sank in deeper, the pace no longer slow but no less careful. It was desperate now. Steady and aching. Each thrust felt like it was pulled from the center of him, like he was trying to carve himself into your body—leaving a part of his soul there.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps. Your breathing hitched with each one, your legs tightening around his hips to pull him in, to keep him close. You could feel how badly he was trying to keep control, how every movement was threaded with reverence and restraint. But his body–his need–was beginning to override his fear.

And you wanted that.

“Don’t hold back,” You said between soft gasps, brushing his hair back again, curling your fingers against his neck. “I want you to give it to me. Everything.”

His face twisted like he was going to cry. He dipped down and kissed you hard, and sloppily, like he was already too far gone to keep it clean. His tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours, and when he found it, he moaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it. He fucked you through it–deeper now, faster–his hips rolling in a way that had your head falling back onto the pillows.

“Oh God…Oh–fuck–Bob,” You whined, your nails raking lightly down his back. He gasped at the sharp drag, chasing the friction because he liked the burn it brought him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” He choked, voice breaking as his thrusts grew uneven. “I can’t—I can’t slow down—I n-need—”

”No…Fuck. Don’t apologize you feel so fucking good. Please––Please don’t fucking stop.” You interrupted, desperate now, feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He dropped his forehead against yours again, lips brushing yours with every breath, and drove into you harder. Deeper. Each movement was more desperate, more pleading, as if his body was trying to reach some part of you his words couldn’t. The bed shifted beneath you, the frame creaking, but neither of you noticed. Not when it felt like your souls were colliding.

You felt everything building again, fast–hot and coiled and pulsing at the center of you.

“Bob…” You whimpered, your voice cracking with need, “I-I’m close, I’m so close…” His eyes met yours again–blown wide, glassy, nodding.

“I-I’m gonna come too,” He panted, and then the question tumbled out of him, desperate and ragged–“Where—Where do you want me to…?”

Your body trembled.

“In me,” You breathed, cupping his cheek again, pulling him close, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Inside me, Bob. I want to feel it dripping out of me all day tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bob cried out–barely a sound, more of a broken whimper–and buried himself to the hilt inside you. His hips stilled with a violent shudder, and then he came. You felt the heat of it, the way his body jerked as he pulsed inside you, moaning your name like it was the only prayer he knew. His arms locked around you, trembling as he held you through it.

And then–seconds later–you followed.

You clenched around him as your body went tight, your back arching off the bed, your lips parting in a soundless cry that turned into a whimper of his name. He felt you come around him, fluttering, pulsing, your legs tightening around his waist as your body shook with the force of it.

He kissed you through the aftershocks–soft and slow now. Like a thank you. Like an apology. Like he was still trying to give you more even after he’d already given you everything. Then he collapsed into your arms, chest heaving, lips brushing against your throat with such tenderness you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by how much he truly cared about you.

And then–out of nowhere–you laughed. It wasn’t loud or mocking. It was soft, breathy, and stunned.

“W-What? What did I––Did I do something?” He asked, lifting his head quickly, eyes wide and flushed with concern. You reached up, still giggling as your fingers gently swept the hair off his forehead.

”No,” You said with a smile so wide your cheeks ached, “No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just…I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” You could see the relief in Bob’s eyes when you said it, as he let out the softest laugh. A breathless, giddy kind of noise.

”I-I was so scared to mess the friendship up…” He admitted, his nose brushing yours again, voice low and shy, “But I’ve wanted you for so long…” You nodded.

”I know,” You whispered, kissing his cheek, “Me too Bob.” He let the moment linger for a heartbeat longer, then shifted slightly, wincing as he carefully pulled back. You gasped quietly at the sensation of him slipping out, a hot flutter leaving your core in the wake of it. You tightened your thighs reflexively as you sighed, and Bob caught the look on your face instantly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned now, pushing your hair back from your forehead.

”Just a bit sore,” You admitted, cheeks flushed, “It’s been a while since I…Y’know.” Bob nodded, slowly getting up from the bed, pulling on the boxers he had on before.

”I’ll be right back–I’m gonna grab a warm washcloth, okay?” He said gently, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips, “Don’t move.” You smiled at him.

”Okay.” You whispered, watching his silhouette pad across the room and disappear into the bathroom, as he turned on the pale white light. You could hear the gentle rush of water, the sound of the towel drawer sliding open, and the rustle of cloth.

He returned a minute later, stopping at his dresser to pull a pair of boxer shorts and one of his old, soft t-shirts, before making his way back to you.

“A-Alright,” He whispered, setting the clothes beside you as he kneeled back onto the bed, “You tell me if anything hurts…Okay?” You nodded, watching as he eased your thighs open. You winced slightly at the sting, but bit back a gasp. He brought the cloth between your legs and cleaned you carefully, delicately, like every part of you was sacred. The warmth helped a bit with the soreness thankfully, so now all you felt was the euphoria of the come down.

Once he finished, he set the cloth on the bedside table, then helped ease the boxers up your legs. They were soft and loose around your thighs, a simple comfort, as you lifted your hips slightly to help. He then tugged the shirt gently over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with a kind of tender concentration like he was worried he might do it wrong.

When it was all done he let out a soft sigh, one full of warmth and the heavy pull of contentment. You were blissed out, sore in a way that felt good. And he was still looking at you with such admiration it made your heart race.

You lifted your arms in front of you.

The motion was simple–gentle, slow, but deliberate. An offering. A request. And Bob’s entire body reacted to it like it was instinct. He didn’t say anything–didn’t need to. His shoulders dipped forward as he crawled up into your arms, letting himself be folded against your chest, nuzzling in like he was coming home. He was careful, even now–making sure his weight didn’t press too much into your legs, tugging the thin top sheet off the corner of the bed before wrapping it loosely around both of your bodies.

He laid his head on your chest, just over your heart, and you felt him exhale fully for what might’ve been the first time all night. His arm slipped around your waist, his other hand curling loosely over your ribs as he pressed his cheek to the center of you, listening.

You held him close, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers sliding gently into his hair, brushing slowly along his scalp in lazy, thoughtful strokes. He hummed–barely a sound, more of a breath–but it vibrated softly into the shirt you wore.

The sheet was thin, barely a whisper of fabric between you and the cooling air, but you didn’t need more than that. Not when you had this. The weight of him. The heat of him. Bob tilted his face slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the fabric at the underside of your breast, where your heartbeat fluttered near the surface. You smiled at him, your hand stroking down the back of his neck, feeling the way he melted into you even further.

“Y-You’re amazing Y/N…” He whispered, “And I’m so…So in love with you.”

[propaganda101]

It's so funny that the ultra intellectuals on this site are always so bitchy about ppl just having fun with stuff and not really caring about literary criticism or hyper analyzing themes bc "everything and anything means something if youre smart", but then when ppl do look into themes and motifs they're instantly like: hey actually that media is just objectively bad :/ like it's kinda awful and youre making things up to justify you liking the thing :// no it's not bad morally it's just a bit shit and cringe ://// have you considered watching something actually intellectually stimulating? :)

like dude, youre just a film bro at this point get off your high horse

[keferon]

Part 2 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod playing air hockey with their remaining brain cells!

Ratchet desperately plays referee.

———————————————————————

The morning Sun was poking Ratchet in the eyes. He scrubbed one hand over his face while the other groped down the side of his recliner for the lever to drop his feet.

There was one more blanket on him than what he’d gone to sleep with.

Daw.

Ratchet needed something bitter immediately to compensate.

Rolling out of his chair with a patented old man grunt, Ratchet was about to get coffee when he realized there was a distinct lack of nitwits harassing him.

Ratchet could hear Hot Rod and Deadlock outside and turned heel to enforce some basic self preservation. He paused, and grabbed a broom for good measure.

Sitting crisscross on the pavement, Deadlock was rolling Hot Rod from one hand to the other and back again. The pilot alternated between somersaulting, sliding and swinging back and forth all while not breaking conversation.

“So you caught on fire and just kept fighting anyways?”

“Yup! Turned out to be an awesome way to get out of any grapple instant-“ Hot Rod huffed, tucking into another roll, “-taneoulsy!”

Ratchet cleared his throat and Deadlock instantly closed his hands around Hot Rod like a kid caught playing with something he shouldn’t have.

“Watcha got there?”

“Nuthin.” Said Deadlock.

“Nuthin.” Said Hot Rod, muffled.

Deadlocks face was twitching more and more the longer he tried to keep an innocent expression. He didn’t even bother trying to suppress the way his finales wriggled in clear amusement.

Hot Rods red mop of a head popped up between Deadlocks thumbs.

“Mornin Ratch! How’d ya sleep?”

Ratchet put the broom down, for now.

“I slept surprisingly well. And don’t call me Ratch.”

“Deadlock gets to call you Ratch! He also calls you HRUMF-“ Hot Rod was unceremoniously cut off. Deadlock frowning down at his re-clasped fists.

Ratchet couldn’t quite make out what his mech was muttering but it sounded suspiciously like “Little snitch.”

Before Ratchet could tell him to let Hot Rod go, both of Deadlocks finales snapped back with a twinned sharp CLACK.

“EUAGH.”

Deadlock whipped one hand away, shaking it vigorously while the other held Hot Rod upside down.

“He licked me!”

“And I’ll do it again!” Hot Rod yelled, tiny fists raised in victory.

Ratchet got the broom back out, “Kid, put him down. Gently. And Hot Rod, stop fucking licking people.”

Adequately humbled by threat of bristly doom, both dipshits complied.

Hrmph.

“Okay, Roddy, you know the drill before I’ll let you you head back to base.”

Hot Rod sighed in overdramatic resignation before plopping his butt on an often forgotten picnic table that got more use from spiders than humans. Deadlock rested his chin on his un-licked hand and watched curiously.

Ratchet appreciated that, though he wouldn’t admit it. Deadlock was always quiet and thoughtful while Ratchet worked. Kid had an uncanny talent for anticipating what Ratchet needed and picked up on when the bioengineer worked beyond his limits. Well, tried to work beyond his limits.

Since Deadlock started living with him, Ratchet never got away with overworking anymore. He was a big fella with a fearsome temper that dissuaded most folks from pushing him. Previous challengers that tried to force Ratchet to maintain a work-life balance usually gave up on him around the same time the first throwable object goes sailing towards their face.

Deadlock just snorted and put his foot down.

Literally.

He put his foot on top of a piece of particularly contentious machinery that had been driving Ratchet up the wall, refusing to move until he agreed to a “Power Nap” that ended up lasting 6 hours.

Ratchet snorted at the memory and pulled out a pen light as he started Hot Rods physical.

“Hey how far do you think you could throw me?”

Ratchet felt his soul sigh.

“Dunno, couple hundred feet? You’re pretty light.”

“Do not encourage him.” If Ratchet got any satisfaction from Hot Rod wincing as he checked his pupil dilation, then that was his business.

“Okay, but what if I was in a roll cage? It’d be heftier to throw AND safer. Ratchet! You could even design one so it’s definitely up to spec!”

Ratchet was going to get an ulcer from second hand stupid.

He pinched the bridge of his nose very hard before speaking, “You want me to make you a human sized hamster ball so Deadlock can bat you around like a spoiled house cat?”

“Yeah!”

“No!”

Hot Rod mumbled dejectedly to himself while Ratchet tested his range of motion. Once satisfied, Ratchet moved onto the question’s section.

“Alright Roddy, any headaches?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“Balance issues?”

“You saw me do a whole gymnastics routine on a giant vampire-space-robot.”

“Hrmph. Light headedness?”

“No.”

“Lapses in consciousness?”

“Sleeping count?”

“Hot Rod.”

“Joking! And no.”

“Blurry vision, ringing in the ears or sensitivity to light or noise?”

“Nope, nope, and nope! I’m fine Ratchet!”

“I’m fine Ratchet? You know how many currently dead pilots have said that to me?”

“Well, Pharma signed off on-“

Ratchet slammed the penlight down on the cracked wood table with more force than necessary, making both the pilot and the mech jump.

“Pharma is a conceited piece of SHIT and the only thing his ‘Sign Off sheets’ are good for is WIPING. MY. ASS.”

Ratchet forced air through his nose. Both Deadlock and Hot Rod frozen in place, wide eyed and tense.

Shit.

Ratchet broke the unintended stare down by scrubbing a hand over his face. He should really shave.

“Sorry. You’re not in trouble. It’s just-“

“Pharma.” Hot Rod finished. “It’s okay doc, I get it. You got waaaay higher standards than him. S’why I keep coming back. I trust you. And I know no matter how bad things get you’ll always have our backs, and we’ll have yours.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to fight for people like Hot Rod.

“Plus,” Hot Rod leaned towards Deadlock and yell-whispered dramatically. “He’s been a huge asshole ever since Ratchet dumped him.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to strangle people like Hot Rod.

“Stop phrasing how I left the mecha program like that. It wasn’t just Pharma I had issues with.”

Ratchet tucked his penlight away and ignored the murderous plotting he could feel wafting off of Deadlock. Don’t kill my “ex” coworker was still a rule in effect until further development.

“Last question. Any weird pressures?” Ratchet did finger quotes around the last two words and waited.

Hot Rod was about to automatically say No again but stopped short, and visibly did a mental check of himself.

“Uh, kind of around my stomach and the top of my thighs?”

Ratchet hummed, “Alright, pull up your shirt a little.”

Hot Rod did as he was told, just above the waistband, Ratchet could see some mild day old bruising.

“Yep, that’s what you get for flinging yourself through a car window instead of using the door ya dingbat.”

Ratchet straightened up and appraised the pilot one more time.

“Alright, make sure you put some ice on that when you get back. Otherwise you’re good to go.”

Hot Rod pulled his shirt back down and broke into a grin.

“Thanks Ratchet! See you guys again soon! Don’t do anything awesome without me until then okay?” Hot Rod pointed back to Deadlock for that last bit and waited until he said “On my life!” before finally driving off with a wave goodbye.

—————————

They had each finished their breakfasts, oatmeal and horrible alien blood respectively, when Ratchet said “I need to talk to you about something.”

Deadlock tensed, plating pulling in close before loosening again. Kid probably thought he was in trouble but could tell immediately that Ratchet wasn’t upset with him. He wasn’t sure how the mech did it, but damn if it didn’t make talking to him easier.

“What’s up?” He wiped quintesson gunk from his mouth.

“You gotta be careful with Hot Rod. You really cannot feed into any crazy ideas he has because he will get hurt and it will be by accident.”

Deadlock pinned his finales back and crinkled his nose. “I was careful Ratch. I did everything the way you taught me. I didn’t pick him up by the head, didn’t squeeze him too hard or nothin. And I was ready to stop at any second the moment he said anything hurt!”

“Kid.” Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. He can’t.”

Deadlock tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

———————————————————————

It’s getting real late again and I’ve already resigned myself to making this a three parter.

This time on the Trio of Friendship and Bad Ideas: Deadlock gets to play with a human slinky, Ratchets looses his sanity and something is up with Hot Rod.

Secrets of the mecha programs side effects will be revealed! Next time.

- SSTP

The way I legitimately can't stop smiling while reading this.....

The way your writing feels like a beam of pure joy flashbanging me through the screen. I can't evenKTYLGMNFHD I DONT FUCKING KNOW WHAT ARE YOU ADDIND IN YOUR WRITING BUT THIS STUFF IS ADDICTING PLEASE KEEP IT UP 👁

Also the mental image of Roddy being a human equivalent of a fidget toy for Deadlock is so entertaining I couldn't resist drawing it jfyjncfh

Roddy still doesn't have a design...oh well........

[gremlingottoosilly]

Rent-a-girlfriend!Reader that only keeps accepting Loser!Konig's offers because of just how much he's willing to pay

The thing is—you can't even say he has such weird kinks or quirks that he has to pay for company. Yes, he wears the mask...but honestly, every glimpse of his face you get is kind of roughly handsome, and at least he has the sensibility for a man not forcing others to look at his mug. He likes to nuzzle in your chest or shoulder, mask still on, and you sort of enjoy feeling his warm breath on your skin. You also enjoy the way he always pays double after some intimate interactions and skin contact, even if you didn't have sex after the date. You almost felt bad for milking poor guy dry. He is obsessive and behaves like a loser, but it all compensates with the money he pays you. It didn't even seem like the money mattered to him, he wasn't one of those losers who would spend all of their savings of a camgirl - it almost looked like he had too much money to deal with, opting to spend it all on making you his pretty spoiled princess. You just have to wrap your arm around his and point your finger in the direction of a thing you want - and he'd pay for it. As long as you're okay with talking to the cashiers on your own, that is, since he hates unnecessary social interactions. He has weird kinks, that's for fucking sure. It all started with simple panty sniffing, with him buying you expensive lingerie sets only to steal them back so he could probably use them to jerk off. It then proceeded to making you call him sir in bed and respond like he was your drill sergeant and not the guy who drills his monstrous cock in you...and you can't forget about his raging size kink, either. Doesn't matter if you're on a chubby or thin size. This guy is going to bend you over and take you like a doll without you having to do anything in bed. It's weird, just how meek and quiet he is in everything but the bed - and how it seems that he just takes out all of his frustrations on your poor pussy. At least the payment is good enough you're willing to let this guy eat you out for hours and cum in his pants during it. Just don't be surprised when one day he'll simply snatch you away.

[chosocutegf]

Choso x fem!reader

cw: smut, creampies

Choso loves to cum inside you. If you asked him, he would probably say that it’s also one of his favourite things to do of all time.

And when Choso cums inside you is nasty. He has you in all positions: missionary, lotus, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl…

Everyone is aware that he also loves experimenting new positions, and that’s because he wants to find different way in which he can cum inside you.

But he loves to take you in doggy style, kneeling behind you while you do that beautiful arch with your back. He doesn’t really like that he can’t see your face and that’s why he makes you turn your head to the side on the pillows, and wants to hear you scream. For him, in a way your moans and cries compensate for the fact that he can’t clearly look at your face.

He becomes a madman when he takes you from behind. He holds your hips and ruts inside you so fast, that after slipping too many times in bed and hitting your head against the headboard, now you prefer to rest your head down on the bed and let him literally fold you in half.

When he has you in this position it’s like he transforms into another person. His gaze is fixed on your ass rippling with his hard thrusts, sometimes glancing up at your head when he hears a particular pornographic moan, signalling that you liked what he just did. That makes him go impossibly harder and faster.

He likes to push you back on him, so hard that sometimes it happens that he has bruises on his hips. But he doesn’t care; he wants to cum inside you. And that’s what he does, every time.

Choso doesn’t last long, but poor boy, it’s because your cunt is squeezing him so hard to the point that it’s difficult to move inside of you. His big fat cock drills into you and your pussy sucks him inside, as if she wanted to keep him nestled inside forever.

So when his tip repeatedly bumps against your sweet spot and your walls squeeze him hard, he can’t help but cum. He stills inside you deep, and keeps thrusting until the last waves of his orgasm don’t wear off. And when he pulls back, his gaze is fixed on the cum oozing out of you. It’s thick and pearly white, and comes out of you in fat globes.

But Choso’s peculiarity is that his cock is still hard even after he came so much. So when he comes out of his trance, he pounds inside of you again. And he comes shortly after, because he is getting overstimulated and pussy drunk. When he cums again, it makes you giggle and you glance back at him with a smile. You see Choso’s fucked out face, while he slowly pulls out again and looks down at your pussy, and your twitching hole from where his cum just got out like a fountain. It was so much. It makes you moan and shake your ass for him.

Choso moans at the sight and immediately thrusts back inside of you, biting his lower lip because he feels himself already on the brink. Now he is really overstimulating himself so, if you happen to look back, you would see him tearing up. But he doesn’t stop and when he comes this time, is even more than last time.

You wonder how is that possible, because who has this much cum inside of them? Well, guess that Choso has. When he pulls away again, your pussy is swollen, and your hole is gaping open, and his cum comes out slowly from you and ends up on the bed under you.

Choso looks down and there is a pool of his cum, which make his hips twitch at the sight. It’s so much. Too much of his thick cum, like a puddle.

He moans your name and reaches up to spread his cum around your velvety pussy. He loves to spread it around, finger it back inside, rub it against your throbbing clit and on your ass cheeks. He is so messy.

He rubs your clit and you moan at the feeling, arching your back and trying to grind against his hand, but he removes it. Before you can whine at the loss, he leans down and licks a fat stripe along your pussy. You scream at the feeling.

He doesn’t let you cum yet, and he is quick to piston his cock back inside you for the last time. He grabs your ass harshly and pulls you back against him, and a few seconds later, he is coming again inside of you.

When he pulls back and observes the mess he did, his cum is slowly coming out of your pretty cunt which can’t stop twitching as if she is beckoning him to get back inside.

But his cock is flaccid and soft against his thigh, and he doesn’t think he can’t have another one.

He leans back, observing satisfied the mess he did and, when you ask him if he is satisfied, he nods sleepily. You smile at the sight of him, looking pussy drunk behind you, eyes half lidded, hair sticking at his forehead and his strong muscular body covered in sweat. He is fucking handsome.

Before you can reach to him behind you, he is quick to latch his mouth to your pussy and suck his cum from your hole. So yeah, Choso loves to cum inside you and… after he is done, to give your cunt all the attention she deserves.

I’m horny and I need Choso

(m.list)

[highway-143]

obsession- nishimura riki

genre: fluff, suggestive, maybe angst (?), university au, s2f2e2l (idk man) answer to this ask

pairing: soccer player!riki x fem!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @planetmarlowe (open taglist)

word count: 4.5k

now playing: mastermind- taylor swift

a.n- ty anonie ehehe ilysm ur so sweet

tw: fluffy fluff, shirtless riki (HAHAHA) profanity, a lil kissing but idk

(mostly proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to harm any idol in the story

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you liked riki.

that was an understatement, actually.

you had the biggest crush on him it was possible to have.

and he was completely oblivious. or at least you thought he was.

you've had a crush on him since 11th grade, when he moved into your school. he was smart, funny, and the most beautiful boy you had ever seen. best soccer player too.

too bad you were too scared to talk to him.

so you thought it was the miracle of miracles that you ended up at the same university. he had gotten a full-ride scholarship to play on their soccer team, the marlins, and you somehow got in with your nervously-written application.

in all fairness, it was probably looking like you followed him. but you didn't, it was just fate.

and fate was what found you here, outside the sports field, staring at the coach's assistant ad.

that was your in.

so you texted the number, fingers crossed and heart hopeful.

you: hey, is this coach wilkins? i'm y/n l/n and i'd like to apply for the assistant job you had posted.

and then two hours later, you get a response.

wilkins: you've come to the right place! meet me in my office this afternoon around 3 and we can talk some more!

you giddily walk to her office all the way across campus from the dorms, iced coffee in hand and a sense of 'finally' coursing through your veins.

"hey! y/n, right?" she says as you open her door. her features are very tight and controlled, a slick back ponytail giving her a more youthful look even though she had to be in her late thirties. "come on in!"

you smile and sit across from her at her desk. she points to your drink.

"americano?"

you nod.

"those are my favorite!"

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "yeah, they're delicious! im actually so addicted to coffee"

"girl, me too." she leans back in her chair, propping her sneaker-clad feet on the desk. "so," she rubs her hands together. "most of the job is just helping out the team, getting waters and moving equipment, you know the drill."

she picks up a soccer ball from where it sat on her desk. "and of course there would be compensation. are you up for the job?"

you grin, liking her more and more. "of course! thank you so much coach!"

"call me sarah. first practice is tomorrow at 5 in the morning. don't be late."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"come on cupcakes, you can run faster!"

needless to say, coach wilkins is a little harsher with her team than she is with you. you watch as the group of 25 boys pant on the field, legs pumping as they run laps from goal to goal. the air is frigid and the sky is dark with the hint of light coming from the east.

you didn't regret being up to see it, even if it meant less sleep than normal.

you turn to sarah. "so how long do they last."

"as long as i tell them they need to." she winks and you laugh. "but it's usually about fifty laps before one of them needs a break."

"damn, that's impressive."

"not when the opposing teams can do sixty. that's what we focus on in morning practice. endurance."

you watch as one of the boys stumbles.

"hey crane! pick up the pace!"

he nods and pushes ahead.

you watch in awe.

"how do you just... get them to listen to you like that?"

she laughs. "i really don't know. but i do know that they know that i care about them and their futures. that might be part of it."

all of the boys push through, the first collapse at lap 57.

"great job, marlins! we're almost there!" she shouts across the field.

you scan through the sea of faces, trying to find the one all of this was for.

riki.

he was in the very back, arms raised above his head and sweat on his forehead. his tank top looked just as wet despite the chilly breeze.

his hair was a tousled mess, wet and on the verge of dripping into his eyes. it was a good look on him.

you pick up the bag of waters and start handing them out, the group of out of breath boys thanking you as soon as their hands touched the cold plastic.

your finger brushes riki's when he reaches for one, and your eyes meet his even in the swarm of sweaty shirts and shouting voices.

he grins, a sweet one that you had come to love, and says "thanks"

you smile, nod, and keep distributing the water.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"wait up!"

you turn around, hearing the voice you knew all too well, and drop the bag of soccer balls in your hands. riki comes to a stop in front of you and smiles.

"you're y/n, right? didn't we go to high school together?"

he sticks out a hand, and you shake it. "yeah, we did. i think we might have been in the same-"

"world economics class, yeah!" he interrupts, but you laugh anyway.

he grabs the bag of balls and walks with you to the storage closet across the field. "so, what did you come here for?"

"i... don't really know. i haven't decided on a major yet, i'm just trying everything."

"that's real. i didn't know you were into soccer though."

you look up at him, giving your carefully thought out excuse.

"yeah, my cousin plays so i know my way around and i saw the ad so... why not make a little extra money, you know?"

he tosses the bag into the shed and looks back at you. he looks tragically beautiful in the sunrise lighting, hair pushed out of his glinting eyes and body shimmering with sweat.

"cool. anyways, i'll see you at practice tonight?"

"yup!"

and you watch him jog off the field and back onto campus, an excitement you hadn't felt since 11th grade filling your body.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it wasn't long before you were hooked on riki.

it all started on the third day of practice. sarah had you bring the team dinner, just sandwiches from the deli down the street.

riki, instead of sitting with his friends, walked over to the bleachers to talk to you.

you were sitting with sarah, but she gave you a part knowing, part amused, and part curious look, and gets up to berate jack wilson for throwing a tomato at grant james.

"hey," he says, sitting next to you and unwrapping his turkey sandwich. "so i was wondering... do you like parties?"

"depends on the party. why?" you ask, leg bouncing and heart racing.

"there's like... this thing? it's on sunday, and it's like, kind of a party, but more like a banquet for all the sports teams."

"yo, that's cool!" you say, trying to sound oblivious.

"yeah, it is. but there's this thing where all the starters for the teams bring.... like, a date? so i was wondering if you'd maybe wanna go? like i know we don't really know each other but it's better than asking my sister and you're the only other girl i know at this school."

you fight a giggle that was brewing in your chest, along with the massive fist-pump and cheer that would inevitably happen later.

"yeah, sounds fun! mind if i give you my number and you can text me the details?"

"sure," he hands you his phone and cracks his knuckles while you tap on it. "thank you again, you're a lifesaver."

you grin and nod, happier than you could ever have been.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

riki texted you saturday night.

riki: hey y/n, its riki. the banquet thing is gonna be at 7, so i'll come to your dorm and pick you up around 6:40 so we can walk there.

riki: sound good?

riki: its formal dress btw

you jump up and down in your room, and your roomate stares at you like you've lost your mind.

you: okay, that's perfect! see you tmrw

riki: 👍

you throw yourself onto your bed and kick your legs into the mattress. your roomate watches you with curiosity.

"are you okay? what happened?"

"just... something i've been waiting years for."

she nods and goes back to reading her book, shaking her head at you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you were on edge all day sunday.

the team had the day off for practice, so you didn't see riki at all.

nope, that's a lie.

you did see him at walmart with his little sister when you were shopping, but you ducked into the next aisle before he noticed you standing by the ice cream.

you didn't want to be awkward around him.

in retrospect, you probably would've been fine if you said hi and started a conversation, but your nerves and the family size bag of goldfish in your cart got the better of you.

you put a lot of work into your appearance that night.

the only times riki had seen you, you were wearing workout shorts or sweats and a ratty hoodie that was comfy but definetly well-loved.

but this time, it was different.

you were in a black silk dress with a low cut and a long slit from ankle to mid thigh. the straps were thin, holding the fabric up just enough so you could show a little cleavage.

a few silver bracelets adorned your wrists, a dainty necklace accentuating your collarbones, and your hair fell in perfect curls around your face.

you pulled on a pair of black heels, making yourself taller.

good, riki was fucking giant.

and when you met him outside your building, purse in hand, you're pretty sure you saw his jaw hit the floor.

he stared at you, and you did a little twirl, blushing when he blatantly looked you up and down.

"holy shit, you look stunning."

you could say the same about him, his black suit crisp over his white shirt that had a few of the buttons undone and a sliver of chest showing that you hadn't seen since senior prom.

"thank you," you say, still standing three feet away.

"we... we should get going."

you follow him through the campus, winding around the many buildings filled with students enjoying their day off.

"you look... really handsome in a suit." you say, half giggling, half embarrassed.

he laughs, a deep sound that has your legs shaking, and smirks at you.

"i haven't worn it in a while, i'm surprised it still fits."

you smile. "is it the same one from prom?"

"yeah, but i'm fairly certian i've grown since then."

"yeah, you definetly gained more muscle."

he grins, hoping you wouldn't see how happy he was that you noticed.

truth be told, riki found you really cute. your personality made him weak in the knees, and your kindness had him wanting to be around you more than he thought he'd want to be.

he was surprised that he'd never met you before.

you walk past a group of little kids playing at a park down the road. one of them, a little girl, was shouting at a boy at the top of the kiddie zipline.

"dont get hurt!" you hear her yell up to him.

you pause, and riki stumbles when he realizes you weren't walking next to him.

"okay, i promise!" he calls down.

she watches in fear as he jumps off the ledge, swinging down to where she waited at the bottom.

"you're so brave!" she said, giving him a hug.

riki recognized the look on the boy's face, it was the same one he had not even two minutes ago.

you coo at the scene.

"aren't they cute? remember being a little kid and being able to show affection like that? god, i miss those days."

you keep walking, and riki follows. "yeah, it was great."

"did you see the way he looked after?" you ask, a sparkle in your eyes when you meet riki's gaze.

"yeah, lovestruck."

you and riki laugh, your heart filled with love and happiness.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

the banquet was nicer than you thought it would be. there were thousands of people, all dressed in formal attire and milling around the room like they owned it.

riki quickly found some of his friends, and introduced you to them.

heeseung, the point gaurd for the basketball team, shook your hand and gave riki a bro hug.

jake, one of his closest friends and defender on the soccer team, gave you an easy smile, and pointed out his date, ashley, who was talking animatedly with a group of girls.

"i don't think she cares about me." he tries to laugh it off, but you see the hurt in his eyes.

riki claps him on the shoulder. "bro, she's not worth it then, you're better than that."

"yeah man," says heeseung, handing him a glass of soda from a waiter. "you're way too good to be chasing any girl that doesn't give a shit about you."

jake chuckles and takes a swig of (what you assumed was) coca cola.

"come on, y/n," heeseung turns to you. "you'd go for a guy like jake, right?"

you stutter, unsure of what to say.

"i mean, yeah! he's handsome and funny, what more could a girl ask for?"

heeseung shakes his head, laughing at riki's face.

"dude, you look like somebody just smacked your mother." says jake.

you turn to find riki composing himself, wiping the jealousy off his face and replacing it with an eye roll.

"okay buddy, time to get you off the caffeine."

jake shakes his head defiantly and takes another sip of his drink. "if you do, there are gonna be two extra balls rolling around on that soccer field."

everyone bursts into laughter, jake's smirk proving his shift in emotions.

the panel of coaches gathers everyone's attention, announcing that dinner would be served soon, and that people should start taking seats.

you, riki, heeseung, and jake all sit together, ashley somewhere across the room with the other girls.

"so riki, are you ready for the first game?" asks heeseung.

"ehh, mostly. kinda nervous but i know i'm gonna play well."

"uh, you definitely are," you say, raising an eyebrow at him. "you're literally the best forward on the team, you're gonna win the game for us."

he smiles at you. "thanks, i hope you're right."

"she's right bro, you're insanely good at soccer." says heeseung, picking at the food on his plate. "like it's scary."

riki laughs, taking a bite of steak.

jake tells you a story about his older brother and a bowl of mac and cheese for the next ten minutes, and you stand up to use the bathroom when he finishes.

jay, one of the players on the football team takes your spot, looking at riki.

"where the fuck did you find her?"

riki laughs, trying his best to not look like a dork in front of one of the most well known kid in the school.

"she's the coach's assistant for our team. i had to ask somebody last minute and she was right there." he lies. "i don't really care about her, she's kind of annoying."

jay smirks. "great, mind if i take a shot at her?"

riki's jaw clenches, furious that jay was treating you like an object to be acquired, but he has a reputation he needs to build.

"nah bro, she's all yours."

jay slides out of your seat, walking back to his table.

heeseung and jake stare at riki like he had gone insane.

"um, what the fuck just happened?"

riki shrugs his shoulders. "i have an impression to make. plus, she would never go for a guy like him. too cocky."

"okay dude, you could do that without insulting her."

riki frowns, eating his asparagus. "okay. but it's not like she's here, she doesn't have to know. and i didn't mean it."

"tell that to the girl that just ran out of the room."

riki's eyes go wide, and he swivels his head to look around, not seeing you anywhere.

"oh fuck," he looks at heeseung. "which way did she go?"

heeseung points to an entrance, and riki immediately stands from his seat.

but his path is blocked by jay.

"just asked her out, and man, you've got a weird one. she started crying when i said you told me i could have her."

riki curses under his breath.

"what was that?" asks jay, raising his eyebrow.

riki fumbles. "uh... nothing, i just... nothing."

"where are you going?"

"uh... bathroom."

riki runs toward the restroom, opening and climbing out the window, racing across the field and sprinting to your dorm in his suit.

good thing he ran for a living.

but it still wasn't enough. by the time he found your building, the doors were just closing behind you.

he stops just in front of the entrance, putting his fist on the glass and panting heavily.

"fuck. ugh."

he pulls out his phone, texting you.

riki: where'd you go?

you: sorry riki, i had an emergency. tell the guys i'm sorry i had to leave early.

riki: oh riki: do you want me to bring anything?

you: no, thanks though.

riki: ok, see you tomorrow morning

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you thought you'd be fine.

you thought you could just drown yourself with ice cream and tears and end up being happier.

but you were wrong.

practice the next morning was hell.

you ignored riki, tried not to acknowledge him when he stood right behind you, tried to distance yourself.

and he just thought you needed some time.

so he didn't try to talk to you. just played harder than ever during their scrimmage, channeling his anger towards jay.

but mostly his anger towards himself.

he couldn't stop beating himself up about it, internally kicking his nuts for being so fucking stupid.

and you just cried.

you felt like you wasted your time, like he was leading you on, like your heart had broken.

because it had.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it was thursday night. you hadn't talked to riki for almost two weeks, and you were starting to get over it.

emphasis on the starting to.

you were putting away all the equipment, wheeling the goals away in preperation for the football game that night and collecting balls that had been forgotten near the bleachers.

and then you realize you aren't alone.

riki is kicking a ball around the field, dribbling it between his feet.

and he's not wearing a shirt.

great. whoop dee diddly doo.

you turn around, not wanting to deal with him, but he sees you before you can hide.

"y/n!" he runs over to you, but you pretend not to hear him.

maybe if you stay very silent....

nope.

"hey." he taps you on the shoulder and you spin around.

he stumbles backwards from the glare you're giving him, but keeps talking anyway.

"are you okay? i feel like you're avoiding me. what's wrong?"

he was trying to be careful, but that just made it worse. how dare he act like nothing happened. like he didn't do anything?

"whats wrong?! i'll tell you what's fucking wrong!" you're practically yelling to cover up the tears in your eyes. "it's the fact that you think i'm annoying! the fact that you brought me to that damn banquet and then fucking traded me like a piece of meat."

riki's eyes show his sadness now, his regret.

"and the fact that you called me 'stunning' and talked with me and acted like you liked me and then just..." your voice cracks and you clear your throat. "just acted like i didn't matter."

he tries to speak, but you don't let him.

"and you wanna know something, nishimura? i fucking liked you. i had for a while. but now i'm not so sure."

you walk away, leaving riki alone and at a loss for words on the field.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you don't talk to riki after that.

and he feels like he lost something important.

it's like how you feel a phantom earbud after listening to music for too long.

or how people who lost limbs sense pain in the appendage they don't have.

he had become so used to your bubbly personality, the way you could smile at anything and see the best in any situation during practice.

but you were gone, and he kept thinking he could just send you a text, fuck, even call you.

but he couldn't.

some people in his situation would be too distraught to keep up on schoolwork and sports. but not riki. his anger at the situation only fueled him during practice.

and when the first game of the season came, he was fucking ready.

coach wilkins was talking in the pre-game huddle.

"okay cupcakes, you've practiced hard and done every damn drill in the book. i know you can win this game today."

the guys nod, but riki is solemn among the nerves.

"ready?" everyone cheers. "go marlins!" she shouts.

the team breaks and runs to the field, riki at the center and facing his equal the opposing team.

you watched from the stands, a speck in the sea of blue, yellow, and silver.

you told yourself you wouldn't go, that you wouldn't think about riki.

but your willpower sucks, so you left your dorm in a marlins tee shirt, shorts, and sunglasses resting on your head even though it was dark and cloudy.

you stared as riki fought the opposing team for the ball, the stands erupting in boos, cheers, and screamed insults when the ref called a foul on him for tripping another player.

the goalie caught the shot, thankfully.

you watched the rest of the game in absolute horror, waiting for someone to finally score a point.

and then, in the last minute of stoppage time-

riki scored.

you were jostled around in the stands, the echo of cheers sounding through the stadium and out into the rest of the world as jake sprinted to riki and pulled him into a huge hug.

the rest of his team crowded around him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him.

the announcer's voice rings through the stadium. "aaaaand riki nishimura scores the final, and winning, point! marlins win the first game and will move up in the championships!"

the cheers are louder now, and you watch as somebody walks up to riki with a mic. his face is projected onto the screen, an elated smile making him look absolutely adorable.

the person with him, a reporter you think, speaks into the mic before pointing it at him. "mr. nishimura, you just won the first game! how does it feel?"

he laughs when jake shakes his shoulder, giving him a dorky grin.

"it feels great, sir!"

"anybody you'd like to thank?"

riki's smile softens, and he starts talking again. his eyes stare into the camera, but it feels like he's looking directly at you.

"yeah, firstly, coach wilkins of course! she was the one who got me here. and then there's somebody else."

the crowd whispers, the noise quieted when riki continues.

"i made a mistake, i hurt somebody that i cared for. and i hope she can forgive me for it. i dedicate my win today to her."

you have to stop the gasp that threatens to rip out of your throat. your heart is beating at a million miles per hour and you feel like all eyes are on you even though nobody could possibly know.

"well... i hope you and the young lady can kiss and make up." the man winks into the camera, making the crowd laugh.

you wait for everyone to leave the stadium until all that's left is you and riki, standing on the field and looking up to where you sat, illuminated by the industrial lights.

"y/n." he calls.

you start walking down to the field, stopping when you get to the wall seperating it from the bleachers.

"i'm so, so sorry for hurting you."

you stand there, just watching him while he walked closer to you.

"i thought that i would look cool in front of jay if i acted like i didn't care, if i let him 'have the girl.' but believe me, i was furious that he was treating you like that, but i thought i wouldn't fit in if i didn't act like them."

he's standing right in front of you now, the barrier the only thing between you.

"but i realized i was wrong. that night, at the banquet, bring around you felt like.... like being in another world. a perfect one. and i want to try again with you, but only if you'll give me a second chance. i know i might not deserve one, but it's up to you."

you watch him carefully, his face a mixture of sadness, guilt, and worry.

"riki, i...." you pause, wiping a tear from your eye. your voice feels like it's about to give out any second, so you whisper.

"i'll give you one."

riki doesn't think he heard you right.

"you're for real?"

you laugh. "for real."

he jumps over the short wall, leaving his ball behind and pulling you into a bug hig.

"can i kiss you?" his words are the quietest you've ever heard as his lips come close to your ear.

you dont respond with words, but with actions.

and when thunder rolled through the sky after a flash of lightning, that's where the rain found you and riki.

lips pressed together, arms thrown around each other, and the rest of his team on the other side of the field recording the whole thing.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

a.n- gang im crying shit.... anyways if you liked this fic, please comment/like/reblog and lmk if you have any ideas for another fic!

masterlist you might also like: kissed- n.rk

[mncxbe]

bsd men with a size kink♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊, 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

the definition of if it doesn't fit I'll make it fit

he loves seeing you struggle to take all of him in your little cunt; pretty face scrunched up in pain as you lower yourself on his cock

he'd be so mean, teasing you until you can't take it anymore~ "bella come on you asked for it baby. aw you're gonna cry? I don't think so baby cmon lemme help you"

he grips your hips and pushes you lower onto his cock inch by inch until he eventually bottoms out, not paying any attention to the way your thighs shake around his waist

"there you go. told you i'll make it fit" he rubs gentle circles on your clit, making you slowly unclench but doesn't move until you give him the go

after all, he wouldn't want to hurt you too badly

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

this sadistic clown is so amused by your struggle. he gets off to seeing you in pain

he'd spread your legs impossibly wide, pressing your thighs against your shoulder as he forces himself inside you

the stretch is borderline painful, fat tears welling in your eyes and streaming down your puffy cheeks but he only laughs condescendingly~ "look how pretty you look taking all of me dove. tight little cunt's gonna milk me dry"

he barely gives you time to adjust before drilling himself inside your sopping pussy, parting your folds with his hands to get a better look at the way he sinks into you

"hm? you crying dove? aw come on now you were begging for my cock just minutes ago"

don't worry tho he's gonna compensate during aftercare

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

he's by far the sweetest of them all

at first he doesn't believe it when you tell him he's too big but when he sees how much you strain to take him all in something snaps inside him

tecchou never considered himself a sadist yet he can't deny the satisfaction he feels

he makes sure you're laid comfortably on your back before spreading your folds open and coating his tip with your glistening slick

he pushes slowly, eyes glued to the place his cock disappers inside of you

every time you whine he shushes you, rubbing little circles on your clit~ "just breathe with me angel. yea, yea that's it i'll go slow you're doing so well for me"

once he bottoms out he gives you time to adjust; his strong arms are literally shaking, his cock twitching with need as your walls clamp down on him

but once you tell him it's ok to move he won't stop. and how could he stop when your perfect pussy's squeezing him so nicely?

"angel fuck you're so tight. 'm sorry can't slow don't you can take it pretty girl"

[monimccoythings]

Husband!Matt Murdock Headcanons

I feel like I want to compensate for this man, he is just an absolute disaster of a human being, a nuclear bomb for relationships, I love him. Loosely tied to these headcanons, may count as a prequel.

Husband!Matt Murdock who you met in college after the whole Elektra fiasco. He was moping and wanted to get her out of his system, swearing he would never fall in love again. Whelp. Turns out meeting you helped him heal in more ways than you could count.

Husband!Matt Murdock who always takes care of you because he knows you get so engrossed in your work you forget about everything else. Which is hilarious coming from him because he does exactly the same, so you take care of him in return. You balance each other pretty well.

Husband!Matt Murdock who loves when you pass by the office with coffee and food during your break to make sure your boys (and girl) don't starve themselves to death.

Husband!Matt Murdock who never told you about being a vigilante, because you figured it out yourself. He had saved you more than enough times for you to realize, and it was pretty obvious those cuts and wounds were not from him tripping. Because he is not that clumsy. "Jesus Christ, Matt the other day you grabbed a soccer ball without even turning around and you expect me to believe you fell down the stairs?"

Husband!Matt Murdock who becomes overly protective of you now that you know his secret. Since you have become one of the select few that know his identity as Daredevil, you will want to be more involved in his vigilante work and he cannot have that.

Husband!Matt Murdock who sometimes has to cancel plans or take rain checks with you because he can't for the love of God have a healthy work-life-vigilantism balance. You try to understand, because his vigilante work means a lot to him and that's who he is, you would never ask him to give it up for you. The only thing you ask for is for him to be careful. Though you can't help but feel a bit disappointed knowing you will never hold a place in his heart like this city does.

Husband!Matt Murdock who does everything in his power to make it up to you. And when he does... Oh boy, either you get the most romantic date ever or the wildest kinkiest night of passion of your life, or both.

Husband!Matt Murdock who tries to not show his Devil side to you. He doesn't want to hurt you ever, no matter how much you insist. The Devil is a part of him as well and he deserves as much love as his civilian side. You just have to drill it through his thick skull.

[sweetercalypso]

༘⋆ abby masterlist 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ tlou masterlist ˎˊ˗

Sleepy sex with Abby where she’s too tired to keep going but she’s determined to make you come.

Maybe she’s finally home after a long patrol assignment, or maybe she just had a late session at the gym. The reason doesn’t matter – Abby missed you and she wants to convey that message the best way she knows how.

She’s too out of it to string together her usual drill of dirty talk. All she can do is moan and grunt into your pussy like she’s drunk off your taste. Her eyes slip shut and the tip of her nose drags over your clit when she drifts off, cheek pressing against your thigh before she startles awake and flattens her tongue over your cunt again.

“mmph,” she digs her fingers into your hips, holding you still to compensate for her faltering pace.

You squirm in her grip to chase that fleeting feeling on your own, but Abby’s hold doesn’t let up. She blinks away the sleepy weight on her features and doubles her efforts, circling her tongue over your clit with an eager pressure that quickly rekindles the heat simmering in your chest.

Your legs tense from the sudden stimulation, but Abby’s hands shift to grab under your knees before you can push her away.

“Stay still sweetheart,” she rasps, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses over the insides of your thighs. “M’not done with you yet.”

[fudgechocolatepuff]

a lovebirds bloom! 🌷 pt.i

keigo t. x fem. reader | wholesome fluff :)

pt.ii of a lovebirds bloom , pt.iii of a lovebirds bloom

summary ⋆ ꪆৎ you with an unoccupied life intertwine paths with the fastest and busiest hero, where you both catch a break in your tranquil flower shop. lots of love in the air begin to unfold ꪆৎ

In contrast to the big city where everyone bustled to work in a hurry and longed for a minute more at home, you were met with a life you found quiet, but quite easy.

Fortunately, you were able to nag yourself a lovely position as a florist in a small flower shop tucked away from all the chaos that the streets carried.

You took your current job to be a gem, considering you had a never-ending obsession with flowers and bouquets since you entered high school that thankfully you kept as you approached your 20s.

Despite the fears that others had about these small jobs like lower compensation, you found peace in such a laid back and natural environment, an escape from the worldly problems that awaited you when you flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Of course, you were aware that the shop wasn’t very popular among those in the city, and you didn’t exactly “make bank” like you had intended to as a teen, but you still enjoyed the connections you made with your boss, your other 3 co - workers, and your clients. 

Due to the lack of popularity of the flower shop, it wasn’t normal that anyone of high status ever visited. They’d always be too busy with their inquires to bless you with their presence or had their assistants do it instead.

Until one day when you were browsing through your laptop, choosing and buying flowers from suppliers when you heard the jingle of the door bell ring faintly in front of you.

If there were anyone you weren’t expecting to walk in the shop to browse through the supply of plants, you definitely weren’t ready to see the number two hero in the country waltz through the door.

You stopped scrolling through the page you were on and stared at the hero, observing his movements in awe.

Out of all of the training your co-workers drilled into you, you had no idea how you were going to confront the winged hero.

Um, Hello?? Hero Hawks?? What brings you in our flower shop that’s literally the size of a dormitory room?? On a random sunday afternoon in the beginning of march?? What the flip??

The air of your workspace became too awkward for you to breathe in.

Gosh, it was just so random that such a well known hero like him would be in such a small flower shop like the one you worked in, the comparison was mortifying.

You knew that pro heroes existed, sure, but making interaction with them seemed like talking to someone of higher class.

Well, maybe it was like literally talking to someone of higher class, but in a scenario like this, it was 1000x more intimidating.

You watched his eyes as they glanced every few seconds in the ‘solid tones’ from the ‘pink’ selection to the ‘red’ selection, and then to the ‘baby blue’.

You weren’t the best analyst, but you quickly recognized the lost gaze he held in his eyes as he searched without a clue what he was even looking for in the first place.

It was kind of cute to see him so concentrated on some silly flowers.

Hawks then turned his head toward you and caught the admiration in your face, returning a gentle smile that made you mentally curse yourself for letting him catch you drool at him as if he were a masterpiece of art.

His revealed toned arms crossed against his chest definitely were a piece of art no doubt about that-

“ ‘scuse me, but could I steal you away for a minute? I jus’ need some help… doing all of this I guess,” the hero chuckled to you, his hand ruffling through the winded locks of his hair. 

Your knees shook at the warmth of his voice and his boyish laugh that you almost ignored the initial request all together as you treasured his being.

You swear his presence was a mesmerizing haze, leaving you dumbstruck for a few moments.

“Oh… oh! Yes, yes! I’ll be right there!” You exclaimed to him as you snapped out of your lovesick daze, skipping out from behind the register counter to resolve his flower fiasco.

You stood to his side, looking up at him with your hands clasped behind your back. “So, how can I help you today, Hawks?” 

His hesitation and ‘ah..’ that dragged out of his mouth revealed to you that he didn’t know how to start with his little issue. Poor him, you thought. Might’ve been a bizarre story for all you knew.

You assured him that you could help no matter how peculiar the situation.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if you had to stand there all day to listen to his melodic voice.

He put his hands in the fronts of his pant pockets as he began to explain,

“Alright, so, ya’ see, today happens to be one of my friends’ birthday, Mirko, I’m sure you know who she is, and ah.. I kinda forgot ta’ get her a present—hero duties and all, ‘course I’d forget, right?”

You nodded your head and hummed letting him know you were listening to his story.

He scratched the back of his neck as he continued,

“Only thing I can think of getting her right now are flowers, I know she likes them, but I dunno the first thing about flowers. You get where I am in this situation?” he smiled nervously, hoping you’d understand.

“Yeah, I have an idea,” you giggled, your hand making its way to cover your mouth as you poked fun at him, “kind of crazy how you would forget such an important birthday like that though.”

The hero put his hands up in defeat, “You got me there. That’s bad on my part, but at least I’m trying to salvage this,” he joked. “I’m just hung up on what to get her, I can’t picture any color, any theme, nothing.”

He turned to fully face you and tilted his head a bit to the right, a cheekier grin tugging at his lips. “Thankfully though I’ll be saved by the cutest florist who I’m sure will get me hooked up on the best selection of flowers.”

You felt your teeth suddenly grind against each other with a sharp breath you took in following after, making Hawks laugh at your stiffened reaction.

“So, what combination do you think would go well for today’s occasion?” He awaited your response with an owl-ish blink, crossing his arms again in anticipation.

Shaking off the embarrassment pooling in the core of your stomach, you took a moment to think.

‘Mirko.. although she appeared as a tough fierce woman, you personally believed she’d appreciate something elegant and light. (It made even more sense to you since the spring season would begin to bloom this week.)’

“I was thinking of something simple. Um, perhaps a pair of white roses and lavender baby’s breath..?” You searched Hawks’ eyes for any sign of approval, to which a glint in his eye shone as he looked back at you.

“I trust your judgment to whatever selection you make for me. I already know that I’ll leave this shop saved.”

His caring attributes and words were hypnotizing you as a timid smile curved at your lips and you held back the urge to utter an “awww.”

“I’ll get them wrapped up for you right now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

You still couldn’t fathom the fact that Hawks was literally the only one in the shop with you, it didn’t feel real, more like a dream where everything around you would turn into clouds and the two of you would levitate towards eachother until your lips met-

snip snip!

Hawks’ knuckles knocked rhythmically on the counter as his leaned figure watched yours snipping the stems of snow white roses.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger over your delicate fingers, handling the plants so well. He bet your touch was as gentle as a feather.

What was he thinking.

Hawks felt his heart tighten. He wasn’t sure if it was out of flattery, but his pinkening cheeks told him otherwise.

He should stop by this place more often.

He gulped down his thoughts, pupils looking up at you showing off your work to the hero.

The boquete was decently sized, definitely not small. The flowers were spread out and mixed evenly making the colors appear vibrant. From the stem up, the plant bunch was wrapped in a lovely baby pink sheet.

You extended your arm to his face, obliviously poking him in the cheek with the flowers as you finalize your final touches with a little ‘shift’ here and a ‘shift’ there.

“It’s not the best I’ve whipped up, but I hope this is good enough for Mirko.”

Standing up straight, Hawks took the boquete out of your hands, ever so slightly making sure to brush his fingers against yours, transferring the jolt of electricity from his body to yours.

It would be criminal to ignore a gesture like such. Who were you kidding—it left your beating heart throbbing, yearning for more contact. You had to keep it professional.

His hawk-like eyes stabbed daggers into yours, releasing a spell that couldn’t let you look away from the man in front of you.

“Knew I could trust you. Cutest flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect.” he insisted, face not faltering one bit as he kept his eye contact with you—not looking away for a second—and craned his head the tiniest bit to the right to steal another flustered smile from you.

You hoped that he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

The three seconds that you and Hawks took engulfing each other in the moment felt like it lasted three years.

Yes, it was cliché, no need to yell it in your face, but it was nice. For both you and Hawks.

You had a delightful change of pace in your uneventful days, and with the most gorgeous man your eyes ever laid upon? Come on, you had to enjoy this.

You were a lovely girl to be around, really. Something about your personality just felt soothing after all the mental and physical wounds he endured throughout the years.

He couldn’t just leave it all here though. He was no casanova—quite the opposite, actually—but he knew you two had some sort of connection.

Hell, maybe he was delusional about this, but he couldn’t care less. He felt his stomach sink whenever he looked back at you, depicting whether it were butterflies or not.

He cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for the flowers, sweetheart. I better move along now, duty calls. How much do I..”

“Oh..! No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s on me this time,” You stimbled an awkward, but sincere smile as your fingers subtly fidgeted with a strand of your hair, gliding up and down the piece.

Hopefully the ‘understanding’ sprinkled into your smile would console him of his awkwardness. Even you could see it, and that was saying something.

The winged hero returned a soft grin to that, muttering a “thank you.” as he made his way to the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

He turned his head back to look at you, capturing your image in his mind so he could replay it over and over when he made his leave.

Raising your hand to wave him goodbye, you wondered when the next time you’d see him would be, or if you would ever even see him again. It felt bittersweet.

“Come back again soon.”

“I plan to do so.” He professed, pulling the door open and taking a few steps out the shop before he took off into the city, leaving you shocked and still in the shop by his bold remark.

If anyone were to be zipping through the winds at a decently fast speed, it’d be normal to be a bit cold.

But in this case, the winged hero was warming up the more your shop came out of view. He whipped out his phone from his pocket and opened his “imessage”.

hawks:

i think i just met the love of my life. and kind of ruined it sent 1m ago

rumi:

you dumbass. sent just now

a/n: longest and might be the corniest thing i ever wrote, cute tho! last part was kind of a joke, idk if hawks would acc text ppl like that. lmk if i should do another part! love uuu! 💗

[alanisstonedd]

construction!ony...

... who you hire to redo your first big girl purchase. girl you a whole a homeowner!! sure, it was a fixer upper but it was PERFECT. the space, the location, the potential, the price?? - you had to. you called up the first construction service in the area with the best & most reviews, asking if someone could come by for a quote for... the whole house..

... who comes by about a week later after a short phone call with you asking when you would be free. you clocked he sounded fine from the two seconds on phone but what you were NOT expecting was the physical. he shows up cargo pants equipped will full tool belt, work boots, tighttttt white tee, tattoos everywhere like a masterpiece… a few gold teeth complementing his gorgeous pearly whites.. you bout have a heart attack at the door

... who can’t stop grinning, like hes already knowin you bout to be a problem. who’s even more excited once he finishes the walk through & quote, because although he can easily fulfill all your needs - for the house of course - this is gonna be a lengthyyyyy project. i mean he has to demo the whole thing first bcs the house is not exactly in amazing shape, then some restructuring and electrical, probably some plumbing. THEN interior and exterior design and aesthetics. but standing in the doorway you already know you don't care how long the project is - you dont even want him to go home when hes done today

... who pretends to be super focused on the quote but spends most of the time peeking at you out of the corner of his eye, imagining you complete bare.. and possibly oiled up.. even he'll admit he got a lil carried away. he assures you that him and his guys will be by very soon to get started on demo, casually asking for your number as he's leaving - just to coordinate ofc courseeee! since you'll be staying with your bestie while the house is getting done. you temporarily get arthritis while attempting to put your number in his phone but hes to busy staring at the way you anxiously nibble at your soft, juicy lips, your tongue peeking out to keep them from drying up. hes only snapped out of his trance when you awkardly shove his phone back at him with a soft chuckle, a wave, and a "see you soon!"

... who can't help but smirk when you start coming by while him & his team are working. claiming you want to "check up on progress" but its literally day two?? he alreadyyy knowin you just want to check HIM out. you wander off ever now and again, admiring your house but you always seem to pop back up when hes locked in, muscles bulging, skin coated with a sheen of sweat making his chocolate skin look literally edible, ripping down drywall or cabinets, hammering, drilling, stripping... like you're actively wishing he would do to you. "you gon keep eye-fuckin' me or you gon help, ma?" he grunts out, turning to look you up and down with a lick of his lips. you suck your teeth and say sum smart back to compensate for the fact that your face is hot and your panties are already sticking to you

... who teases you RELENTLESSLY - you dont even know why you keep stopping by (yes you do, he fine as hell and sweaty). but once you're there its like you can't leave, its the only time you get to see him! and it is your house after all... but you don't know how much more of this you can take. ofc hes physically respectful, ever the gentleman as he was raised to be, but his mouth is NASSSTTTYYY girl. and with his proclivity for deep, intense eye contact, you're going through panties quicker than you ever have.

“you know... i meant to thank you ma. you got all the guys puttin they back in it when you come around. lil’ motivation walkin’ in here wit’ allat ass i guess.”

“bet you like watchin’ me work, huh? that why you always here? i got u feelin a way baby?” you sputter out some response, too hot to think of something coherent, eventually running out of reasons to show up. so you start bringing them lunch! ofc duh, i mean they're working so hard, the least you could do is bring them some hoagies and beers. but it just makes his shameless eye fucking and dirty comments worse. i mean you're not any better, always letting a little "mmm" slip when hes working real hard, flexing and shit. and he catches that shit every time! turning to you with a smirk

"been watchin’ you all day, tryna be good… but you just had to come over here with that, didn’t you?"

“you keep bringin’ us lunch, gon’ make me think you tryna take care of me or sum.”

“I’m just being nice, ony.”

“mmm, yeah? im tryna be real nice to you too, mama.”

©  alanisstonedd 2025 — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋