#i suppose it was technically a request. in a way

[buckysprettybaby]

tastes like trouble

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ pairing: cowboy!bob reynolds x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cowboy!au, smut, nsfw 18+ [mdni], kinda dom!bob, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected piv sex (wrap before you tap), praise kink, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, nipple sucking, mutual pining, sexual tension, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby), hair pulling (mentioned once), no use of y/n, aftercare.

summary: the ranch was supposed to change your attitude. instead, you caught bob reynolds’ attention — and once you’re his, he’s not letting go.

bob reynolds masterlist

a/n: this took me ages and i don’t even know if i like it. i feel like im bad at ending my fics 😭 gif not mine! smut under cut. mdni

requests are open

It’s been a few weeks since Daddy dearest shipped you off to the family ranch in the middle of nowhere. Well—technically, it’s Lubbock. But as far as you’re concerned, it may as well be the edge of the earth. Your father decided it was time you “learn some responsibility,” and apparently, being surrounded by farm animals and dirt roads was the perfect cure for your so-called attitude.

Not everything is terrible, though. There’s one silver lining: Bob Reynolds — the ranch’s quiet, broad-shouldered farmhand. Tall, sun-kissed, and built like the kind of trouble you wouldn’t mind getting into. Always in that damn hat, too — worn low like he’s hiding something, or maybe just watching everything a little too closely.

He thinks you’re a spoiled brat, of course — made that noticeably clear on day one — but you like to believe you’ve somewhat changed his mind over the weeks. You still complain and roll your eyes every time someone asks you to carry hay bales, but… there’s something about it. As much as you hate to admit it, life on the ranch isn’t entirely miserable. You’re starting to get used to it: the early mornings, the dirt under your nails, and the way the sky looks just before sunset — wide open and endless.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls, voice smooth and lazy like honey dripping off the edge of a spoon. “You gonna help me with supper, or just stand there lookin’ like trouble?”

It pulls you from your thoughts, but he doesn't stop staring.

He can’t.

That little green sundress is damn near killing him, clinging soft at your waist, swaying just enough to tease with every step. Sunlight dances off your skin, those long legs bare and golden, and Bob swears under his breath because it's almost too much. 

You don't even notice what you’re doing to him. Or maybe you do. Maybe that’s the worst part. 

He shifts his weight, trying to think about anything else — but his mind keeps slipping, tumbling into places it shouldn’t. Not with you. Not the boss’s daughter.

But God help him, he’s already there.

“Coming!” you shout, tossing a quick glance over your shoulder to double-check the gates are locked.

When you turn back toward Bob, your gaze lingers — just a little too long. You can’t help it. The afternoon sun catches the sweat slicked across his skin, making every muscle stand out in sharp relief. His shirt is half undone, clinging to his chest, and the veins in his forearms flex as he wipes his brow.

You swallow hard.

Yeah… maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.

You tear your gaze away before he turns around and catches you staring — though the thought lingers. You wonder how those muscles would feel under your hands, strong and solid beneath your touch.

You curse yourself under your breath, feeling heat settle low in your belly — and lower. Great. Now you’ll be tossing and turning all night, thinking about the way his forearms flexed. Maybe if you moan his name loud enough, he’ll finally get the damn hint.

By the time you step into the kitchen, the air feels thicker than it should — heat from the stove, or maybe just the way Bob looks over his shoulder when you walk in. “You’re on choppin’ duty.” When you glance over, he just holds your gaze. No smile, no tease. “You’ve got steady hands,” he says simply. But somehow, it sounds like more. 

You feign annoyance, but honestly? You’re kind of glad. Chopping means standing next to him, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the brush of his arm when he reaches for the salt. Not that you’re thinking about that. Obviously.

You grab the apron hanging on the back of the door and tie it around your waist, slow and deliberate. The fabric pulls just right across your chest — and you know Bob’s not immune to the view. He doesn't look away. Not once. Not even when your apron pulls tight against your chest. It’s not cocky — it’s quiet, fixed, hungry. 

You smirk as you pick up the knife and get to chopping.

The rest of the cooking goes smoothly, with flour and laughter flying as you both settle into a rhythm. Bob shows you how to fry up some golden chicken, the sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

You roll out dough for biscuits, get your hands sticky with homemade jam, and watch as he stirs a pot of creamy mashed potatoes on the stove. The smells mingle — comforting and familiar in a way you hadn’t expected.

By the time you’re done, the counter’s a delightful mess of flour dust, crumbs, and chopped herbs, and you’re both a little dusty and sweaty, grinning wide.

“You know the drill, princess,” he murmurs, voice low and warm like a secret. “Pick us out a drink, and I’ll get everything plated.”

You step over to the fridge, letting the burst of cool air hit your skin — a welcome relief from all the heat you’ve been feeling lately, inside, and out. You grab a cold bottle of beer for Bob and one of the fancy cocktails he stocked just for you — the kind you’ve made a habit of enjoying every night like it’s your little reward for surviving ranch life.

You hand him his, and when your fingers brush, barely, it sparks. A flicker of something dangerous. His gaze lifts, calm but focused, and you catch the way his tongue runs across his bottom lip like he's thinking something he shouldn't say.

“You alright?” he asks softly, that damn drawl curling around the words. “You’re lookin’ a little flushed.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, smoothing down your dress like it’ll hide anything. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t argue. Just chuckles under his breath and guides you to the table, pulling out a chair like it’s nothing — like he hasn’t been quietly knocking the air out of your lungs all week with moments like this.

You sit, heart thudding in your chest that you're not just having supper.

He sets the plates down, brushing past you with that same slow ease, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and touch — just to see what he’d do. 

You take a bite of the chicken and let out a soft, involuntary sound — all buttery heat and pepper and crisp skin. He made this for you. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.

Across the table, Bob’s hand tightens around his bottle, grip just a little too firm. He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, eyes unreadable, jaw clenched tight.

You look back at him, the air thick and heavy like a storm about to break. You chew slowly, careful not to say anything. You both know that if you do, there’s no taking it back.

You take a sip of your drink, eyes flicking to the old hat tossed carelessly on the table. It’s faded, worn down at the edges, and something about it pulls at you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way that Bob hasn’t stopped watching you like he’s afraid to blink.

You reach for it without thinking.

“This cap’s kinda legendary,” you say, fingers brushing over the fabric. “Think I can pull it off?”

He doesn't say a word. Just watches as you lift, slow and deliberate, and settle it on your head with a grin that dares him to say something.

You tilt your head. “I think it suits me.”

There's a shift in the air — You feel it before he speaks. A crackle, subtle and sharp, like the second before lightning hits.

“It does,” he says, voice low. “Too well.”

You blink, the grin softening, your fingers resting lightly on the brim.

“It's just a hat,” you murmur.

“No. It's not.”

He stands, the movement slow but full of intent. When he crosses the room, it's the kind of focus that makes your skin heat. He stops just in front of you, close enough your knees graze his thighs.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “Putting that on.

You look up at him, heart thudding. “Then tell me.”

Bob exhales though his nose, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t have to. His presence alone is enough to make your body hum.

“Means something, he says. “To me. And now you’ve got it on like it’s nothing.”

You swallow. “I didn’t mean– “

He cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s sudden but not rushed — like he’s been holding it in for hours, maybe longer, and it finally snapped. His mouth moves over yours like he’s tasting something he’s been craving too long. His hands gripping your hips, firm and steady.

You kiss him back without hesitation, fingers curling into his shirt, dragging him closer. He groans softly against your lips, like the sound’s been buried deep in his chest and you just dragged it out.

The hat tilts on your head, and he pulls back just enough to smirk. “Keep it on,” he says, voice hoarse. “You’re not done wearing it yet.”

Then he’s on you again, mouth hot and insistent. Tongue sliding against yours, slow and filthy. His hands move to your thighs, spreading them just enough to step between, dragging your body into his. “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” he mutters, lips brushing your jaw. “Sittin’ there in that dress like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

You gasp when his teeth scrape lightly over your neck, when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress. “I– I didn’t,” you whisper, through your voice betrays you, shaking with want.

He laughs against your skin, low and rough. “Liar.”

His hands are everywhere now, like he can’t get enough — up your thighs, over your waist, cupping your ass and squeezing until you whimper. His mouth follows the curve of your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, like he’s leaving proof behind. “I’ve been trying to be good,” he says, dragging his lips back up to yours. “But you? You just made that real hard.”

You tug him in by the collar, breath catching as he kisses you again, deeper, hungrier. You feel it in your gut — the way he wants to ruin you slowly. The way you want to let him. And when he lifts you into his arms, his hat still perched on your head, he doesn’t say anything more.

He doesn’t need to. You already gave him permission the moment you put it on.

He carries you toward his bedroom—your forgotten food fading into the background. His lips trail fire down your neck. His teeth graze, bite, suck bruises into your skin, like he’s desperate to leave proof that this is real. He shoves the door open with his shoulder and kicks it shut without looking. His hands never leave you. His mouth never lifts.

Then he tosses you onto the bed. Not roughly, but with urgency — like he’s seconds away from losing control. You look up at him, dazed. Chest rising and shallow breaths. Heart hammering.

Bob moves between your legs, slow and deliberate. His hand trails up your inner thigh, and your skin prickles under the heat of his palm. God. He looks so good from here. Broad, golden, flushed. Eyes darker than you've ever seen them. You bite your lip, pulse quickening as you meet his gaze. There's nothing playful in it. Just pure, aching hunger period.

He swallows, chest rising hard. “You don't even know,” he says, voice strained like he's trying to hold something back. “What you do to me.”  He slides his hand higher. You suck in a breath. ”Been thinkin’ about this,” he continues, barely above a whisper. “Thinkin’ about you spread out and soft and wet for me.

The patch darkening your panties should embarrass you. It doesn't. Not when he looks at you like that. His hand cups you through the fabric, firm enough to make you jolt. Your legs twitch, trying to close, but he keeps you open with a quiet, “Don’t.”

A pause. His gaze flicks up. “Let me see you like this. Don’t hide.”

You nod. Swallowing thickly.

He breathes out slow, like he’s grounding himself. “That’s it,” he murmurs, thumb starting to move in slow, teasing circles. “Good girl.”

Your hips buck up to meet him, chasing the friction. His jaw tightens. “So impatient,” he mutters, voice low and almost fond. “I’ll take care of you.” He hooks fingers into your panties and pulls them down, tossing them somewhere behind him. Then, without pause, his fingers part your folds, sliding through the slickness gathered there. His thumb catches your clit and presses gently, rubbing enough to make your back arch.

He watches every reaction like it’s art. “Bet you taste even better than I imagined,” he says quietly, like it’s just for him. Like it’s a thought he didn’t mean to say aloud. Then he likes a long stripe up your centre.

You gasp, head thrown back, fingers tangling in his hair. He moans against you, deep and rough and the sound vibrates through your core. He doesn’t stop. His mouth is hot and unrelenting, tongue working you over like he’s desperate to memorize your taste. His grip tightens around your thighs. You feel him lift your hips, anchoring you to his mouth and then –God– he’s everywhere. Tongue pushing inside you, lips sealing over your clit, sucking hard. He moans again, louder this time, like he needs it.

“Bob–“ your voice breaks, body trembling. He doesn’t stop. Just slides his tongue deeper, drags it over every slick inch. You cry out again as he sucks and laps and groans against your swollen lips. You’re close, so close, the tension coiled low in your belly threatening to snap.

“You gonna cum for me?” he rasps against your skin. “Right here, sweetheart?” His voice is hoarse, raw. “Let me feel you. Let me taste all of it.” The possessiveness in his voice, the reverence, it breaks something open in you. The wave crashes hard. You cum with a cry, hips trembling, thighs squeezing his head.

But Bob doesn’t stop. He holds you in place, tongue still working, drinking down everything you give him. He’s messy with it. Starved. And when he finally pulls back, mouth glistening, he looks wrecked. “You’re unreal,” he breathes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then licking it clean. “Could get drunk off you.”

You’re trembling, barely able to breathe, the aftershocks coursing through your body. The only answer you can give is a soft choked moan as your thighs try to close around him again.

He chuckles low—deep and warm. Then starts to move up your body, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he does. He pushes your dress higher, until your breasts spill free. The chill in the air makes your nipples harden, and his gaze flickers there, caught. His hands are slow as they tug the dress over your head and toss it aside. He stares down at you like he’s looking at something holy. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to see you like this.” His thumbs brush over your nippled and you arch into his touch. His palms are rough, gentle.

You laugh softly, breathless; a little dazed. “Keep looking at me like that,” you whisper, “and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He stills. Just for a second. Then he leans in and presses a kiss between the swell of your breasts. “I do,” he says, no hesitation. No grin. “I do.” His mouth moves lower, trailing fire as he goes. He nips at your skin, lingers over your breast, sucking bruises into the soft flesh. When he takes your nipple into his mouth and bites down gently, you moan. Your hips grind against nothing.

Empty. Needy. You mumble, almost broken, “Need you inside me.”

Bob pushes his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen — thick, flushed, and already leaking. Your eyes widen as you take him in, and he notices. A dark look crosses his face, like he’s fighting some deeper urge. He steps closer, wrapping a hand around his length, stroking once — slow. “You’re staring,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “You scared?”

You shake your head, breath catching. “No.” you manage, though your body’s already trembling with anticipation.

He leans down, lips brushing your ear. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you’re gonna take it. Every inch. You hear me sweetheart?”

Another wave of slick coats your thighs at his words. Your voice is a breathy whisper, half defiant, half teasing: “Then stop talking and make me.”

His breath catches. Just a flicker, but you see it. Feel it in the way his jaw clenches, in the way his hand tightens around his cock. Your words strike a nerve, sharpen something already on edge. Your words strike a nerve, sharpen something already on edge.

“You really want that?” he murmurs, voice low, like a warning. “Want me to ruin you?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

Bob climbs over you, guiding the thick head of his cock to your entrance. He drags it through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing your clit with slow strokes. His gaze stays locked on yours the whole time, hungry and unflinching.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, more awe than mockery. “So soft…fuck, you’re soaked.” He presses in just a little, and your breath hitches. The stretch is immediate—intense. He grits his teeth, stilling.

“Easy,” he breathes, one hand sliding up your side before tangling in your hair, gently but firmly tugging your head back. The motion exposes your throat, makes you feel bared, offered. His touch grounds you, even in its roughness. “Let me.”

He pushes deeper, inch by inch. His free hand grabs your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh to keep you steady. The stretch burns, just a little, but the way he fills you…it’s overwhelming in the best way. “God,” he groans, jaw tight. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, baby. Feels like heaven.

You're panting, nails digging into his arms. You can feel every vein, every inch of him as he finally bottoms out, buried fully inside you. The weight of him settled heavy in your core, full and stretching and perfect. A whimper breaks from your throat. “S’too big, f-feels so good– “

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your neck, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “You’re takin’ me so well. My good girl.”

Then he starts to move.

He starts off slow at first, giving you time to adjust. Each stroke is deep and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. But then your walls flutter around him, clenching tight, and his control shatters.

A groan rips from his throat as he grips your hips tighter, dragging you closer, and starts to drive into you harder — rough, fast, relentless. Bob grunts against your ear, voice ragged. “This pretty pussy was made for me.” Each word hits like a thrust, like a claim. Skin slaps against skin, loud and filthy and perfect.

A moan forces its way out if your throat: loud, shameless. You can barely breathe, barely think, each thrust stealing more of your mind. You claw at his shoulders, fingers digging into firm muscle, trying to ground yourself. But there’s no anchoring. Not when he’s this deep, this rough, this relentless.

He’s everywhere—his breath in your ear, his hands gripping your hips like you’re something he owns, his cock hitting that perfect spot again and again until you’re teetering on the edge.

“Bob–“ It’s a gasp, a plea. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your thighs start to shake. That fire in your belly tightens, winding sharper and sharper, ready to snap. “I– I’m gonna–“

“You cum when I tell you to,” he growls, cutting you off. Then his hand slides down—fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. You cry out, hips bucking, but he doesn’t let up. Doesn’t let you go. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you still as he fucks into you, rhythm brutal and unrelenting.

A whine slips out of you before you can stop it, your body clenching around him, every nerve on fire. Bob notices. Of course he does. His eyes are locked on yours now, something sharp and burning behind them, like he’s seeing straight through you.

“You close?” he murmurs, voice lower now. Less cocky, more reverent — like watching you fall apart beneath him means something. His thumb doesn’t stop. Neither do his hips. “You gonna fall apart for me, darlin’?”

You nod, frantic, too far gone to play coy. The heat building in your belly is unbearable now, all-consuming.

And then his voice softens–not in volume, but in weight. “I ain’t ever wanted anyone like this.”

Your breath hitches as you take in his words, and you nod, barely able to speak, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. His thumb keeps circling your clit, still snapping into yours, harder now — more urgent. “I’m close,” you gasp, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know, baby,” he grits out, his rhythm growing rougher. “Want you to cum for me. Now. Wanna feel this pretty pussy milk me dry.”

That’s all it takes.

Your orgasm crashes over you, sudden and overwhelming — your body seizing around him, thighs shaking, breath catching on a cry that sounds more like his name than anything else.

A groan tears out of him, deep and raw, as your walls flutter around him. “Fuck, just like that. Gonna fill you up.” His hips stutter, pace faltering as he slams into you one last time and buries himself to the hilt.

You feel it. The heat of him spilling deep inside, thick and hot, and the way his whole body trembles with it. He stays there, pressed against you as if he’s trying to pour every last drop of himself into you.

His voice is low, hoarse, right against your ear. “Mine now. Inside and out.”

He stays still for a moment, just holding you. Then you feel the shift in his body as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you in the bath.”

You hum in protest, half-asleep already. “Too far…”

Bob chuckles low in his chest. “I’ll carry you princess. Don’t worry your pretty head.”

And he does — lifts you like it’s nothing, like you weigh less than a feather in those strong arms of his. You tuck yourself against him, limbs limp, still soft and slick between your thighs. You don’t miss the way his eyes flick down for a moment, like he’s remembering exactly what he just did to you.

He sets you down gently on the edge of the top, one hand on your back to steady you while the other reaches for the knobs. The water starts to fill — warm, slow, steam curling in the air. He grabs a bottle from the shelf and adds a little, something herbal and clean, and you watch him, dazed, while he works.

Once the tub is ready, he helps you in first, steady hands guiding your hips as you sink into the heat with a sigh. “There you go,” he says softly, climbing in behind you.

You settle back against his chest, his arms curling around you like instinct. He presses a kiss to your damp temple. “Better?”

You nod. ”So much.”

His hands wander, but not in the way they had before — now, it's slow and soothing. he grabs the washcloth and gently runs it down your arm, over your thigh, between your legs with reverence. every touch says the same thing: I've got you.

“You know,” he murmurs after a while, voice low against your neck, “you wear my hat…now you’re wearin’ my touch…I might have to start keepin’ you.”

You smile, eyes fluttering shut. “You already do.”

By the time the water turns lukewarm, your skin is flushed and pruned, your body relaxed in a way you didn’t think was possible. Bob helps you out, wrapping a towel around your shoulders before drying you off himself — slow, careful, like you might break if he rushes.

He hands you one of his shirts after, soft and oversized. It smells like him. You pull it on without a word.

In bed, he tucks the blankets around you both, pulling you close until you’re tucked against his chest, your legs tangled with his. His fingers trail absently along your spine, slow and gentle, like he’s memorising every inch of you.

You tilt your head up slightly, catching the way he’s watching you, soft-eyed, lips parted. It’s like he’s still not over the way you said his name. Without a word, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s unhurried this time. Sweet. His lips move over yours like he’s savoring it — like he has nowhere else to be but here, with you. You sigh into him, hand slipping up to rest over his heart as your mouths move together, slow, warm and easy. The kiss deepens, just a little. Enough to make your chest flutter. His hand slides up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing in the corner of your mouth like he's trying to soothe a need you didn't know you had.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you, his forehead rests against yours. “Still mine,” he whispers, voice low and rough.

You smile, lips brushing his. “Yours.”

He pulls you closer — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat — and this time, when he kisses you, it lingers.

Like a promise.

please like, comment and reblog to let me know what you think ♡

© buckysprettybaby; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[bewitched-hours]

Hiii can I ask for a 007n7 or 1x or any other character you wanna add as cats/beans? Reader adopted/saved them as strays and until now they didn't know that they can transform to their robloxian/human form? Reader was suspicious of how intelligent they are, because they actually do understand what reader's saying. I want fluff of them cuddling, and maybe finding out that they're not just pets lol x) [ignore this but since i have a cat sometimes i don't bother kicking them off my room when i need to change or i do something stupid like singing alone... reader probably does the same 😭] take your time, no pressure on doing my req :D

yes yes yes YES- 'scuse me- Yes- (I love this and I get it, I do the same but it's my brother who has cats, not me sadly) Don't mind me using them both and adding our baby CK into the mix-

Reader's getting She/Her!

You've been down in the dumps for a while.

You've finally cut off some toxic family and got yourself into therapy, something you've been working so hard on doing.

But you still felt guilt and shame.

Your therapist said that it was natural so you did your best to keep them out of your life...

Until one rainy day when you were rushing home from a therapy session.

It was especially stormy and your raincoat had trouble keeping you dry.

But something stopped you as you ran past an alleyway.

A small meowing. From a kitten.

You halted all motions in your body and went back to investigate, your heart not being able to let you go on without at least trying to help.

And there they were. Two cats and a tiny kitten that seemed hurt.

One of the older ones was all green and looked grumpy while the other had a strange blue pattern on it. But the kitten was completely red...

You assumed the older two must've been painted with some weird water-resistant paint while the kitten could still pass as a ginger cat.

Maybe the red colouring would lessen as it grew...

Regardless, you spared no time rushing in to take a look at the kitten. The older two seemed mostly unbothered but the blue one was a bit hesitant to let you inspect the kittens hurt leg.

Not like you could blame it. You assumed it was the parent to the little one and muttered apology after apology as you hesitantly picked up the older two first and held them on one arm before carrying the kitten on your other and making your way to a vet you knew personally.

The green cat just hissed a little but didn't make too much of a fuss as you entered your friend's clinic and checked in.

You had requested to see your friend specifically and he was surprisingly available so you were led directly into the first available room to wait for him.

You noticed one of the cats being quick to comfort the kitten as it mewed in pain, breaking your heart all over again while the green one kind of attempted to swat at you. A bit annoying but you were willing to overlook it.

"[Reader]? What brings you in today?" Your friend greeted you curiously before seeing the cats. "Oh! Poor things..."

"Yeah, found them in an alleyway on the way home and came here immediately... I can tell the kitten has a broken leg but I don't want to separate them unless absolutely necessary..." You sighed, noticing the kitten quieting down as you spoke. It was a little funny.

Like it understood you were trying to help...

"Well, there won't be a way around it but I'll get an x-ray done first to see what exactly we're dealing with. Do you want me to check the other two as well?" Your friend pointed at the older cats, who were now both looking at you and it made you think.

"You know what? Sure. I technically have the money to care for them and my brother probably still has some old stuff I can use until I can get them better playthings and such." You sighed, noticing how the blue cat seemed to relax a bit at your words while the green one nodded??

Again, you shrugged it off. Cats are supposed to be pretty intelligent so they probably recognized something about you or whatever...

It took about two hours for them all to get checked, with the green one being... Especially difficult...

But in the end, your friend gifted you two carrier boxes for the cats and told you to just come in the next day for the kitten.

You thanked him and went straight home afterwards, letting the carriers down on the ground and leaving them open for your new 'roommates' to get used to your apartment.

"What did I get myself into...?" You groaned slightly, taking out your phone to call your brother as you went off to prepare a bath for your new cats.

"Hey, so I may have picked up some cats and now they're living with me..." "I know, I know! But I didn't want them to be strays again and I'm worried what kind of people might pick them up- One of them had a kitten, for crying out loud!" "Yeah, I know... Is there any way I can have the old stuff from your cats to keep them entertained until I can get new stuff? I'll even pay you." "Wait- You'd do that?! You're the best!" "Okay~ Love you~"

You hung up with a satisfied sigh, noticing the water in the bathroom stopped running.

But when you went in, you just saw the cats both sitting on the edge of the tub and staring at you expectedly. You could only stare back, impressed that they knew how to stop the faucet.

With a chuckle, you went to give them both some gentle scratches between the ears, which they seemed to like. "You're much smarter than I thought... I'll have to ask my brother later how smart his two were so I can potentially brag about you two already knowing how to stop the faucet in the bathtub." You made sure to check the water temperature and carefully lifted them into the tub, nervously awaiting for them to put up a fight despite the water not even reaching past their legs.

But they didn't. They just stared at you. It was almost even more impressive as you went on to simply bathe them, apologizing for every mistake you made and actually feeling grateful that you managed to do it without that many scratch marks on you...

You were done just in time for your brother's arrival and left your new cats to continue drying off while you helped your brother get everything into your apartment.

"Thanks again!" You said as he left and you noticed the two cats immediately investigating all the new stuff with an amused grin on your face. They were growing on you rather quickly.

And the next day, you left them at home since you were only getting back the kitten and realized you'd now have to name them... Or maybe...

"Alright, maybe I'm crazy or this is the smartest I've ever been!" You declared as you set up a large keyboard in your living room that was connected to your TV. "Maybe this'll also allow me to test how smart you two are..." You muttered, stepping back and watching them explore.

The blue one kept glancing over at you, you assumed it was because you were keeping the kitten on your lap as it purred from your gentle scratches. It was simply too adorable to handle...

You let them walk over the keyboard as they pleased, watching them type until they gave you a stare that told you they were done and you sighed at what they wrote. "I guess I should've expected this from cats... But it's your names now..." You inspected the names and noticed they managed to colour the names in their respective colours.

"Hold on- How- I didn't-" You stammered, shocked but otherwise just going with it.

Within minutes were you on the phone to order some nametags for them all and awkwardly explained that their names weren't- in fact- a mistake.

"Welp... I guess I can try to call you all by nicknames and hope you understand me..." You sighed, looking back to see the cats still staring at you which made you freeze up for a moment.

It took a couple days ultimately but the nametags fit perfectly on some color-coded vests you got for them all.

C00lkidd was too small for one so he got away with a simple collar.

But you didn't want them to wear those all the time. Just when you had to be out and about to avoid any trouble.

Regardless, it was adorable how much they've come to trust you over time... Even napping on you or insisting on simply eating at the table with you- funny enough.

They weren't even interested in your food, spare for CK, but they were fully content just eating from their bowls at the table. It was strange but it became routine.

And you knew how important routines were for cats.

Hell, you've even started talking to them like they were roommates instead of just some cats you picked up and got emotionally attached to.

Sometimes they answered you with tiny little meows and it was the cutest thing, like they actually understood what you were saying and were trying to reply.

And c00lkidd even took a liking to climbing... Especially on you... And especially when you just got done making food...

Yup, that was definitely cat behaviour but it was funny so you didn't bother to correct it. Plus, how're you gonna say no to a kitten?!

You did notice that sometimes they straight up leave the room when you needed to change but you blamed that on cats being dramatic and comedic effect. Maybe you just smelled and they got irritated or whatever... You expected them to leave when an irritating smell intensified.

What you didn't expect, was when you came home early one evening and saw some kid trying to reach the higher cabinets in your kitchen.

You both just stared at each other nervously. Frozen. For the longest time...

"Please don't be mad-" He meekly asked, making you snap back to reality and facepalm with a deep breath. This was a child, there is no need to freak out unnecessarily...

"Alright, who are you and how did you get in...?" You asked with exhaustion practically written on your face.

"It's me, C00lkidd!" You stopped al movement again to look at him in shock and disbelief... At least until he turned back into the adorable kitten you had known.

You took a couple of seconds to process this, wondering if you were hallucinating.

So, you quickly went to the bathroom and splashed your face with some cold water, only to exit and see c00lkidd back in his robloxian form.

"Oh.. My... Stars..." You muttered, before looking to the living room just in time to see your other two cats also turn into full on men...

Suddenly you had a LOT to process...

It took them all explaining it to you and helping you come to terms but you all agreed to just continue on.

You accepted that C00lkidd saw you as another parent, it was even sweet.

You accepted that 007 and 1x- even through their differences- both cared for you and were ready to help if you were ready to let them keep their comfortable lifestyles.

All was well... Wasn't it...?

I definitely wanna make this a series now- oh god-

You can tell how much I enjoyed writing this-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[h0useslut]

don’t let me in with no intention to keep me .ᐟ

requests | masterlist

pairing : gregory house x fem!reader

w/c : 1,7k

warnings : hurt/comfort, references to gun violence (handled subtly), post-shooting trauma, angst with a bittersweet edge, arguments, gregory house being emotionally constipated

summary : house can't understand why reader stays after everything he does. after he gets shot, it all comes crashing down on him. one fight and almost tearful confession later, he finally understands why she stays.

a/n : this is something my dear @ariluvzzz prompted, and who am i to say no to her?

It starts with House doing his little schemes on you. Mixing up your coffee order. Accidentally dropping your lunch on the floor while you ate together. Paging an emergency when in reality, he just wanted to mess with you.

At first, you thought it was funny. Hearing him say “What’s got your panties in a twist?” after writing post-it notes with incorrect patient updates was a little infuriating, but you also enjoyed seeing that devilish smirk on his face.

But then the schemes kept coming. More specific. He started knowing exactly how to get under your skin. How you hated reports being mixed up, how the smell of tuna made you gag, how your mug had to face the same direction every morning. You don’t remember telling him those things. He noticed, as he always did.

It didn’t take you long to notice what was actually happening. This wasn’t just boredom or cruelty. It was his version of attention.

And in some backward, ridiculous way, it made you feel seen. Wanted, even. You didn’t say anything, just went along with it. You were pretty sure by now the entire team had noticed the fact that you were in love with him. It was too obvious. Even though you doubted he would ever admit that he did those things out of affection, his eyes lingered on your face way too often, and his voice lowered when he said your name.

It was real.

That playfulness lasted so long, had it not been for the shooting. You weren’t there when it happened. But you remember the look on Wilson’s face when he told you. House had been shot in the neck by a former patient.

You don’t remember much after that. Just how cold your hands felt. How empty the hallway was without his usual complaints and clatter.

You couldn’t bear to see him in the hospital bed. And when you did, it was usually when he was asleep. It hurt too much.

When he came back, something was different. First, came the shouting about the carpet. Then, the jokes stopped. No more coffee-swapped orders, no scribbled notes on your patient's charts.

And the worst of all? He became cold towards you. Silent. Shrugging you off as if you weren’t important. As if you weren’t working in the same team with him.

You knew he was holding back so much. All the things he couldn’t say were now locked up even tighter. And it broke something in you too. Seeing the man you were in love with becoming distant and just not really there.

You weren’t supposed to be there after 8. Technically. But practically? You stalled for a minute too long. You just wanted to see what was wrong. Get him to talk. Anything that would mean that he’d talk to you for more than a few seconds.

Slouched in his office chair, glasses perched low on his nose - he barely heard you come in.

You hovered in the doorway. He glanced up, barely. Just a flick of his eyes.

“Breaking and entering? Bold move” He muttered, voice flat. “Looking to steal my pain meds or my will to live?”

You gave a small laugh, but it didn’t rise to the bait.

“I was just um- I was just passing by”

He didn’t bother to look up from whatever he was doing. Or actually what he wasn’t doing.

You stepped in slowly, coming to stand in front of him. “House” you spoke, softer now.

“What? What do you want?” He snapped, making you take a step back as he stood up.

You blinked at his outburst, trying not to let it sting. It did though. It always did when it came from him.

“I just- Well” you tried, voice smaller now. “I just wanted to talk. You’ve been shutting me out”

He scoffed. “You’re not that special. I shut everyone out”

“Yeah well, not me” You snapped too. “Not like this. Come on now”

That seemed to hit somewhere. His shoulders stiffened, jaw clenched like he was biting back words that might betray him.

“You almost died, House” you continued, stepping closer to him. “And since then, you’ve been acting like you want us to disappear. Like you want me to disappear.”

He finally looked at you again, expression unreadable. “You don’t get it. This isn’t about you”

“Then make me get it” you pushed, heart hammering in your chest. “Make me get it, please. Explain to me why you keep pushing me away”

Silence. He looked down, avoiding your gaze again.

“I can’t keep doing this. Not if you don’t even try to meet me halfway” you say, voice breaking a little.

And so you storm off.

House just stands there, his eyes ridden with something… maybe guilt. But he doesn’t run after you, he doesn’t chase you. You slam the door behind you, and he winces at the sound.

Running a hand through his hair, he sat down - pretending that his charts were the only important thing on his mind. Though he found himself muttering,

“Why does she always wait for me?”

And then it was quiet again.

He knew he should move, so he did. Anything. He kept staring at the door you’d just slammed, torn between looking for you or just ignoring the entire situation.

If he didn’t ignore the situation, it would mean something. And maybe that's what feared him most. That it would open up something inside him - space for someone.

You waited because you loved him. He knew it. That’s what made it worse. That’s what’s made it unbearable. You kept showing up, soft-spoken and with steady hands, even when he offered nothing but sarcasm and lewd comments.

He rubbed at his temples, then lingered on the faint scar near his jawline, the reminder of how close it all came to an end.

You could've left him after the shooting. Most people would have. Hell, maybe you should have left. But you didn't. You stayed.

That terrified him more than death ever did.

He exhales slowly. Maybe it's not about what you see in him - maybe it's about what he's too afraid to see in himself.

By the time he's on his feet, he has already made up his mind about it. It's already decided, though he doesn't really know what to say. But for the first time in weeks, his footsteps don't feel aimless.

Gregory House was coming to you.

You hadn't expected him to come. Not after the way you left. Not after the way he stood there, still as stone and dismissive while you opened your heart to him.

Curled up on the couch, lights dimmed low while a record was spinning in the background - not loud, but still there - you were caught off guard when a knock came on your door.

Your breath hitched. It couldn't be him, could it?

Oh, but you knew it was him. No one else knocked like that.

When you opened the door, he didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, like the words were stuck in his throat.

''I shouldn't have said that'' he muttered. ''I shouldn't have said a lot of things''

“Come in” You whispered, stepping aside.

He stepped inside, noticing how your shoulders slightly trembled.

House stood awkwardly in your living room, gaze flicking over the smallest details - the soft blanket you always curled into, books on the coffee table, on shelves, literally everywhere.

''You always listen to sad music when you're mad at me?'' he asked, attempting to joke. No sarcasm in his voice though. Just searching.

You didn’t answer right away. You crossed your arms, more to hold yourself together than anything else. “I’m not mad” you murmured.

“Just tired of feeling like I’m trying to pull you out of a place you don’t want to leave”

That made him wince. But he didn’t back down. Instead, he moved closer to you.

“Look at me” He whispered, voice soft. “I don’t want to hurt you”

You blinked hard. “Then why do you keep doing it? Why do you keep letting me in?”

“Why do you let me keep caring if you’re going to shut me out. If you have zero intention of actually letting me stay”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away just for a second. Like facing you - facing this entire moment was harder than any other case he’d taken up.

“I didn’t think you’d stay”

You felt something twist in your chest. He couldn’t be saying this, right? After everything you’d been through.

“I have stayed, Greg” you protested. “I stayed after the shooting. After you stopped talking to me. I stayed after you acted like I wasn’t even in the room.”

Silence fell between you again. This time it just helped the ache in your chest grow.

Then he said it, in a slow- agonising way.

“You were in the room. And you definitely mattered to me. You mattered to me more than anything”

Another step towards you. “You could’ve left,” he said, voice raw. His hands twitched awkwardly at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Stop saying it, please. You know I wouldn’t. You know me” You said hoarsely, eyes teary.

“Why do you keep waiting for me?” he asked. This time his question wasn’t bitter. It was quiet. Almost scared.

You swallowed. “Because I love you. I’m in love with you- and- I know at least for some time you liked me. I know if I wanted to love you right I needed to give you space. I had to let you figure it out”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you did little to keep them locked inside you. It was all coming undone. You didn’t expect him to say anything. You were used to him handling these types of situations with silence.

“You missed a little something” he finally said, voice cracking.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

House stepped closer again, his hand hesitating on your waist before coming to rest there. His eyes were locked on yours like he needed you to see the truth behind what he was about to say.

“I’ve always loved you, sweetheart”

[redrose10]

#19 Jk post military. Him going straight to business performing right after instead of seeing his girl who’s also a performer /idol

Thank you for requesting. I hope you like it! Sorry it took a little longer.

Idol Jungkook x Female Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, one swear word, slightly suggestive at the end

Word Count: 1,574

Prompt: #19- Are you trying to make me angry?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sitting at your kitchen table alone with cold food, a champagne bottle in melted ice, and burnt out candles was not how you imaged the night going. Your boyfriend was just discharged from him military service. The event was long awaited by you, him, and millions around the world. You knew he had a schedule to complete earlier in the day right after the official discharge ceremony. That was all decided before they even officially enlisted so it wasn’t new to you, but even after his meetings and a small live that he was going to do with Jimin… he should have been home hours ago.

The two of you were supposed to have a nice dinner together and then you were going to relax and watch your new drama that had come out a few months prior. It was your first role as the lead actress which was something you had worked very hard to receive. Jungkook had promised that he wouldn’t watch any episodes or look up any spoilers in his limited free time that he had while enlisted. He wanted to experience watching it for the first time with you by his side.

But he never showed up like he was supposed to. You texted him. You called him. You never got a response, not even left on read. It didn’t take long for you to give up and change out of your new dress you had purchased especially for the evening and you got comfy into some more casual clothes. Just as you got in bed there was a notification on your phone.

The group chat was blowing up after Hobi sent a video of Jungkook practicing for an upcoming performance. The rest of the guys seemed to only encourage him more:

Namjoon: He’s hasn’t even changed out of his military uniform yet.That’s dedication!

Jimin: He never stopped talking about performing.

Jin: Jeeze kid take a break. You’re making the rest of us look like lazy bums.

You were moving past being hurt to just being pure angry. It’s one thing to have to delay your reunion at home so that he could go to the company and complete some of his required tasks there. It was technically part of his job. You understood that much after having been in the industry yourself for quite a while and you knew how much he missed Army so the live was very important to him.

But you didn’t feel that it was necessary or caring for him to go right into practicing choreo and getting ready for a performance when he hadn’t even come home to see you yet.

Your next move may have been a little petty, childish even but you knew there was only one way to get his attention and after what you two had been through over the last two years you were willing to go to that point.

Quickly, before you could change your mind you put back on your dress from earlier. It was short and black lace which was an absolute favorite of Jungkooks and you headed to the company building.

Luckily you managed to slip in without being seen by your boyfriend. You ran into Jin in the lobby so you excitedly let him know how much you missed his cooking. You dropped off a coffee for Taehyung and stopped by Namjoons studio to recommend a new book you had recently read. You knew it wouldn’t take long for word to get back to your boyfriend. The Bangtan Boys were bigger gossipers than a group of fifty year old Aunties.

You only had one more thing to check off your list and thankfully you quickly found Hobi still in the dance studio. It didn’t take much convincing at all for him to film a couple dance challenge videos with you. You never posted a dance challenge with an anyone other than Jungkook before. He was quite a bit jealous when it came to things like that.

It was new to you, but with your background in dance you mastered the choreography in no time. The two of you were able to film a couple different videos. One for Hobi’s Killin It Girl challenge that was coming up and then the two of you took a page out of Taehyung and Leejungs playbook. You guys picked a random song and created the choreography on the spot.

It was intimate and sensual without crossing any lines and you were quite proud of it to be honest. Hobi promised the dance video would be posted within a couple hours so you thanked him and went home to wait.

And as he promised you got the notification that the video was live a couple hours later while you were sitting in bed.

Of course the internet went crazy seeing you two superstars dancing together like that and the video very quickly went viral.

It wasn’t too long afterwards that you heard the front door open and slam shut. The familiar sound of Jungkook’s heavy bag dropping to the floor followed next and then his boots thudded against the hardwood shortly after.

Seconds later Jungkook appeared in the doorway of your bedroom with his hands firmly planted on his hips. His tongue poking at the inside of his right cheek while he stared you down.

You were already changed out of your black dress and had put on your pjs or also known as…just a tshirt from Yoongi’s D-Day tour merch line.

It took everything in you not to smile or laugh or give anything away because your plan had worked just like you knew it would.

“Seriously Y/N?”, Jungkook questioned you without moving an inch.

“What?”, you faked confusion, “If you’re hungry there’s some jjajangmyeon that Jin made and dropped off earlier. I mentioned really wanting some and he was kind enough to make it for me.”

“I’m not hungry Y/N.”, he scoffed.

“Okkkaaaayyy then…what is your problem?”, you questioned.

He crossed his arms against his chest as he eyed you with a glare, “You know…exactly what my problem is.”

With a sigh you scooted out of bed making sure to straighten out your shirt so that Yoongi’s face was front and center, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Kook.”, you said as you tried to walk past him to go to the kitchen and get something to drink.

Just as you walked by him Jungkook grabbed your bad pulling you back into the room with ease. Within a second he had you pinned against the wall of your bedroom. His strong hands held your wrists above your head with force, but he was still gentle enough to not cause you any pain. For a few seconds he stood there staring deeply into your eyes before leaning in close enough that you could feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Y/N, Are you trying to make me angry?”, he growled into your ear.

You felt goosebumps run down your spine in a good way.

“I…I just wanted to get your attention. You left your discharge ceremony and went straight to practicing for your performance. I just missed you and I wanted you to come home.”, you replied barely above a whisper.

“Baby.”, he mumbled into the skin of your neck as he followed that with a kiss, “I missed you too.”

Jungkook released his grip on your wrists allowing your arms to fall back down to your side.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”, he said rubbing his thumb across your cheek, “I guess I was just so excited to get back to performing again that I got a little too caught up in it. I never should’ve kept you waiting this long especially because I’ve missed you so so much.”

You melted into his body wrapping your arms around him, “And I’m sorry for purposely making you jealous.”

“It’s okay.”, he chuckled, “I kind of deserved it.”

“How about I make it up to you.”, you smirked.

He looked at you curiously with raised eyebrows, “I’m listening.”

You pulled the chair from the desk in your bedroom over to the middle of the room. Grabbing his hand you lead him over too and playfully pushed him to sit down in the same chair.

“Y/N…Wh-whats going on?”, he asked with surprised wide eyes.

“Wellll…while I was at the studio waiting on Hobi, Jimin came in and gave me a few pointers for how I can improve my lap dancing skill.

“Wait a minute!!You and Jimin were da-“, he tried to say in a panic, but you silenced him by straddling his lap, unbuckling his belt, and swallowing his words with a kiss in one single movement.

“Okay thank you Jimin I guess.”, he breathed when you pulled away allowing his hands to grab onto the hem of your shirt.

“Wait Y/N…”, he stopped you, “please tell me you’re not about to give me a lap dance while wearing a shirt with Yoongi Hyungs face on it?”, he whined.

You were so excited to have him with you that you almost forgot.

“No of course not.”, you giggled pulling the fabric off and tossing it across the room revealing the black lace lingerie you had been hiding underneath the whole time.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock, “Fuck…I should’ve been home hours ago.”

You turned around making sure to touch him in all of the right spots in the process, “Yeah…you really should have.”

[kinboardsforthesoul]

Dr. Robotnik icons for my wonderful headmate, @drr0b0tnik

[impostoradult]

my stress level right now is sky high, and the fall of the Republic is like fifth in my priority list of concerns. which should emphasize just how stressed I am

[emioliravioli]

Im genuinely curious how many art requests you have at this point. I'm guessing over a hundred?

its around 50, give or take some non-requests that i wanna draw!

[drifloonz]

your steven interpretation is boring and fits into the fanon characterization of steven, i wish you would be a little more unique with how you write him :(((((((

i do Not feel like this is true bc fanon steven is like nothingburger sexy guy or yandere... esque?? or things like that that make him very shallow and one note . And not super depressed and mentally ill as he would be. literally like Fanon Steven is Not my steven and my steven is also very near and dear to my heart bc hes a comfort character who i had when i was going through a lot of shit! Like Actually! I think about him a lot! And a lot of the things i do w him are lifted from canon and the ways i interpret and analyze the og story. not a lot of the fanon or fandom stuff ... Does that. a lot of it is very divorced from stevens struggles and story and the fact its a tragedy in favor of shipping or whatever else. they do not give steven realistic struggles.

also bc i havent properly written steven in ages. idk if you read my headcanons or analysis'. Read Those if so. I dont actually write shit almost ever especially now i do not write him as a character bc i like to think about him and how hed do things, i dont like to Write him.

my keyboard is broken i am tired and depressed and dont really have many ideas for things to write with him bc i exhausted a lot of them. i still think about steven daily though, im mostly focused on my self indulgent shit i write because thats all all of this was. sharing my self indulgent shit with people who are fighting for Crumbs of steven.

i think ab him more than almost anybody else seems to in this fandom other than a few people i personally know ( shout out to like 3-4ish people ) and a few others i dont personally know. There are not many people i know who have the same headcanons and a lot that did i think took it from me? which is kinda funny. i dont own steven having bpd but i think its a thing i popularized more for example afaik. i see little bits of my headcanons rippling into other peoples and its fun

Also what the fuck do you mean 'boring' what do you want the depressed adult ass man to do when hes isolated. Sorry that he is not dancing for ur entertainment? Sorry that hes not a crazed serial murderer!!! when... he.. Wouldnt be he only really killed mike and nobody takes doors open as canon ever bc its stupid. I have no idea what you mean by boring. the fuck would an 'interesting' interpretation be. i am not interested in entirely redoing his concept as a character or his story nor am i fucking rewriting strangled red or am ever interested in it bc i think its fine on its own and whenever anyone tries its usually... Not good. Even ( and especially ) when smr did it LOL ( thankfully he never got to strangled red proper ).

i dont like a lot of people that do that unless it has a reason because i think the og story is perfectly fine untouched even if some parts could be elaborated on or explained better, but i dont think you have to shove super big changes to things like 'missingno is actually a conscious entity that talks to him!!! mike DID kill her' Like this detracts from a lot of the story and things that do that at least in my opinion make it.. more boring. its fine if people like that but its not for me. you dont need to make strangled red more dramatic and explain away everything. some of the vagueness is the fun of it.

i just wanted to share headcanons and my own projections that i think would fit him to the world bc nobody really thought about steven in the way i did.

i know a lot of people really love my steven interp and think hes unique so i think you just dislike it. Which can be a thing you can do i dont give a shit. I would also probably dislike whatever yours is! Im very picky with steven interpretations! ok not really people just dont genuinely write him as a full-fledged character very often. i am not making 'content' for people. im just sharing what i want to. if that doesnt appeal to you make your own shit! You probably wont find a lot of people writing whatever you want steven to be so you should do it for yourself bc thats how i got here.

if im taking this very personally or sound like it im mostly jsut really confused. and also bc i half-am but i dont care that much. Bc like. What do you want me to do...? Im not going to suddenly rewrite the entirety of my own personal interpretation of a character ive loved for almost 2 years straight now for someone else. i barely use this blog anymore! except when i want to post analysis or headcanons. its self-indulgent! but i still sure do think about steven deeply and intimately even if it for some reason feels like i dont. i think the autistic analyzation of the og writing should paint that im like serious about it.

anyways, there was not much of a reason to send this if youre so upset i dont write steven content the way you want ( and you probably would also have a lot of ideas i wouldnt agree with. ) Then send me 50 dollars NOW! [ if it wasnt obvious this is a joke. ]

[ramenwithbroccoli]

finally introducing the other character who also occupies a part of my brain:

Meet Giewont!

while the creator of it, Maria Leszczyńska, originally intended to make a war machine, she struggled a lot with finding resources then. however, with her and her family's life deeply affected by both world wars, the idea never left her mind. inspired by utopian idea of glass houses from a novel "the spring to come" ¹, she created her machine from glass. it would be cheap to make, yet durable, available as help to those in need, able to do hard work in times when it was needed - but if fragile peace was in danger again, it could fight alongside other soldiers. as if to set that role of protector in stone, she named it Giewont ². to test her creation, she gifed it to her brother Andrzej, who owned a small farm near the seaside.

Giewont worked as much as four men, not needing to be paid or fed like people would. it was a perfect solution for everybody, the new industrial revolution. that was, until about half a year into her work, glass started to shatter. it turned out not to be as durable as the utopian story made it to be, especially in contact with rough farm tools. small cracks also started to appear after they worked outside in winter, with low temperatures on the outside and hot steam circulating inside. with her fingers and edges getting sharper every day, Giewont was forbidden from taking care of animals anymore, as she would injure them. she was given the only task with no way to injure others - they recieved a showel fully made from metal and was ordered to dig. she did as she was told, even though the work put strain on her already-falling-apart fingers.

but when one day, when returning home, she noticed daughter of Andrzej, Aniela, swimming too far away from the shore and having trouble coming back, long forgotten wire snapped into its place as she jumped into the water to save her. while Giewont did bring her back home, carrying her in their arms, the girl had severe cuts on her body from coming in contact with robot's sharp hands. furious with his sister creation, Andrzej took it outside, desperate to destroy it. blinded by anger, he didn't even notice the storm gathering over the horizon

Andrzej took the metal showel and struck Giewont on the side on their head, then again, until her body fell and crumbled to pieces. He covered it with sand and raised his hands to deal the final blow.

that's when the lightning struck.

and the man fell to the ground, dead.

the sand melted from the heat around Giewont, filling the empty spaces and connecting the pieces back together. raising from their shallow grave, with body more rigid than what she was used to, she took her shovel and decided to bury the man, with what respect they had left for him. that was, after she dealt the final blow herself.

although miraculous, the lightning didn't return her to the previous state of being. their motions were stiff and some parts of theirs got lost forever among the sands of the beach. the part of her head where the first blow was dealt never worked properly again, rendering Giewont deaf in one ear (or whatever was left from it). however it did some good as well, as it widened the space around her mouth, finally making them able to talk - even if it was simillar to a whistle. determined to help people but with a body that kept hurting everyone around her, Giewont set off into the world, trying to find a home and piece herself together, leaving parts herself and a dead body behind.

footnotes below the cut:

1. "During one pause in their journey, the elder Baryka tells Cezary of an entrepreneur who, along Poland’s Baltic coast, devised an ingenious method for manufacturing durable glass from the vast reserves of pristine sands that had lain for eons beneath coastal peat fields. By a massive Rube Goldberg-type arrangement of channels and a creative method for harnessing the westerly winds (the storytelling here is a literary engineering feat in itself), an incursion of the sea provides power for converting the extracted sand into glass. From this vitreous wonder substance, prefabricated houses of glass are built inexpensively. The houses are strong as steel, hygienic, and easy to heat in winter and keep cool in summer. Whole villages are built with houses of brightly colored glass. Life becomes less of a struggle for mere existence, more civilized, and without the need to toil incessantly. People eat less meat or no meat at all, and begin to revere farm animals as sacred beings. For the reader, the digression serves to freshen the mental palate. For Cezary, however, the story is altogether beguiling, raising the utopian prospect of a more wonderful life, reunited with a homeland that might have been his to begin with and a father he has just rediscovered" - via neh.gov

wow thanks for skimming through footnotes as well! as a reward, here's the first ever design of both Janka and Giewont (which proves they were both created around the same time :] )

2. "Those knights had been in a deep sleep for hundreds of years and they only would wake up if it is time to fight on a great battle. When this day comes, the earth will move, there will be thunders that would shake the sky, many trees will fall and break, and there would be noises when the Border Mountains will break. On that moment the knights will take their horses and they will gallop to fight for Poland once again." - the legend of the sleeping knights

a lot had changed since that time :]

[phobiaexists]

ALSO if people send me art requests I’ll probably be trying to take way slower on getting to them or they’ll be rushed lmao

Attention span is getting fucked over a wee some so I wanna try not to worry about too many things to get done at once HDNXHEJDJJE

[luveline]

hey babe can I request Hotch with a reader girlfriend who’s desperately shy? early seasons hotch please when he’s still smiley (maybe still has Jack tho), i would love to see how he treats a long term girlfriend in your eyes one who he’s just completely gone for 

fem, 0.9k

You should know better than to come to work without venturing up to Aaron’s private office, but you’re late coming in and there’s a ton of stuff to do and he’s supposed to pretend that he cares when you turn in your work late. You log in and start going through things slowly. There are a few emails to respond to, some queries, a consult request Aaron himself has forwarded with a note —your expertise is required. 

You wiggle your mouse to wake the screen. You hadn’t realised you’d gotten stuck until it was dark. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” someone murmurs, tipping your head back to kiss your cheek, “where have you been?” 

He speaks quietly, no one else can hear him, but he enthuses his tone with so much love that you can’t decide between laughter or tears. You turn breathless instead, a thumb against your throat as Aaron’s loving questioning continues, “I thought we talked about this, hmm? You coming up to see me? How else am I supposed to know that you’re here?” 

There’s no Emily sitting at the desk opposite yours. No Spencer adjacent, no Derek to the right. It explains why he’s butter soft, but not his worry. 

“I was nearly late. I’m sorry.” 

He starts to kiss you gently, quietly, his lips tracking over the side of your cheek and pressing in as he goes until his nose is against your temple. “Don’t be sorry, I just wanted to see you.” He holds you to him. “I missed you.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, wishing you were brave enough to tack handsome, or love on the end. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I thought maybe you were still stressed about Emily.” 

Aaron pulls away, giving you your first proper look at him that morning. He’s as handsome as ever. It makes your chest spike with anxiety. You worry all the time that you’ll lose him; the thought that he might realise all the things you’re missing and break things off is a constant at the back of your mind. It only ever goes quiet when he’s kissing you. “Prentiss has done well so far,” he says. “I’m not happy to have things rearranged above my head, but I have no problem with Emily. Now, how was your morning?” 

“It was fine.” 

“I want to know. Breakfast?” 

“Yeah, oatmeal.” 

He grins. “Me too.” 

Nobody would ever believe that this is your boyfriend when he’s commanding a room during a profile, or apprehending an UnSub with his impassive, furrowed brow. You assumed it was the honeymoon phase at first. It’s not like his affection makes much sense, but if he’s not stressed, it just means he loves you, which is nice. You hold the back of your hand to his cheek, laughing in a shock when he turns his face and traps it between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“No more late mornings,” he says decisively. 

“I wasn’t technically late. I wasn’t early enough to come up to see you, is all. Are you upset I didn’t bring you your coffee?” 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, smiling as he kisses your wrist, before straightening. You let your hand fall and he catches it on the way down. 

“I don’t know. You’re much too touchy. I’m trying to deduce why, but…” 

“Profile me,” Aaron says. He gives your hand a squeeze. “You know how to do it, honey. Figure out my motive from my past behaviours.” 

Aaron’s only ever this sweet on you when you’re in his bed. Well, ‘only ever’ is harsh, but he’s never not sweet on you in the afterglow. And that’s because intimacy is a constant reminder of how close you really are to one another, why he loves you, and why you love him. So perhaps he’s being sweet on you because you’ve reminded him how loved he is? But it doesn’t make much sense. You forgot his coffee.

Your stomach goes warm. “Oh. Oh,” you say, “I called you last night.” 

“You did.” 

“I was tired.” 

“But you were beautiful,” he says, and what does that mean? It’s not as though he could see your face. “I can’t remember the last time you were like that. Not since we were in Helena.”

You can’t remember it clearly. Threads of what you’d said come back to you slowly. Love you, my sweetheart, my Aaron. Can you come over? I know it’s late, I need to see you. You were too tired to function, let alone call someone, and yet. 

Your face is on fire. 

“Sorry I couldn’t come over, honey,” he says, chucking you under the chin with a curled finger. “I would’ve, I promise, but I had Jack until we swapped this morning.”

You go hot all over. “No, I know. It’s fine, I shouldn’t have called you–”

“Who says you can’t call me?” 

“Nobody, but I shouldn’t have.”

“You can call me anytime you want.” He tips your chin up. “Quick, Spencer’ll have finished what I asked him to do soon. Can I kiss you?” 

“I forgot it was your day for Jack–”

He takes your face into his hand. “Doesn’t matter, honey. Kiss?” 

You close your eyes and lift your chin. Ever your prince, Aaron squeezes your cheek gently and leans in to kiss you, far warmer than you’re expecting, his thumb rubbing over your cheek with a reverence he couldn't fake if he wanted to. 

[em1i2a3]

I’ll Believe In Anything

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You book a beach getaway for the team, only to realize that it would be harder than expected to hide you and Bob's relationship from the others.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut (a lot of it…kinda just purely self indulgent, promise next time I’ll have way more plot), and pure Fluffiness. Bob and Reader are in a secret relationship together, and it is relatively new (about two months in, though they were extremely close prior to this)

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all…please), Fingering, Oral Sex (Female and Male Receiving), Hands Covering Mouths to Muffle Moans…But like…In a nice way? (I feel like that might need a warning for some reason), Dirty talk, Teasing, The use of the name ‘good girl’ is scattered throughout this, Overstimulation, Squirting

Author's Note: I took the request of a beach day with Bob and I thought of a beach weekend with Bob and the rest of the Thunderbolts with the trope of a secret relationship and it being in peak honeymoon phase where reader and Bob/Sentry just can’t get enough of each other. Thank you Anon for suggesting a beach day with Bob…Because it got out of hand lol

Word Count: 15,200

You were supposed to be on the road by noon.

Instead, it was nearly 2:30 and you were still in Bob’s bedroom–sitting cross-legged on the floor, folding his t-shirts while he tried to seduce you with forehead kisses and absolutely no concept of urgency–while the others were already on their way to the beach house.

“Bob. I need you to focus!” You said, voice muffling through a laugh as he nuzzled against your neck, “You were supposed to be packed yesterday, and we were supposed to be halfway down the coast by now!” Bob, who had his arms looped loosely around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, sighed dramatically.

”B-But you smell so good…It’s l-like you bathed in the tropics or something. I-I can’t think straight when you smell like that.”

“You never think straight when I’m around.” You shot back. He turned his head and kissed your jaw, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose.

”That’s b-because you’ve ruined me.” He murmured. You grinned as he kissed the apples of your cheeks, his breath fanning over your skin. His arms tightened around your waist like he was trying to physically keep you from packing, while his whole body curled around yours, pulling you onto his lap slightly. Despite your better judgement, you leaned into him just a little.

”Actually,” You started, reaching for another t-shirt that you had thrown on the floor, “You were just secretly harbouring a high sex drive and didn’t realize it until we finally did it.” Bob let out a flustered breath–half-laugh, half-gasp.

”I-I was not…” Your eyebrows raised.

”Oh, really?” He leaned back a bit so he could look at you fully, with feigned innocence playing in his eyes.

”I-I mean…Fine. I didn’t know it was that b-bad until you. I-It’s not like I ever…I mean, no one’s ever…” He paused and tried to get his words back, taking in a deep breath because his voice almost got carried away with him “Y-You’re the one who makes it a whole different e-experience for me.” You sighed, surrendering to his words.

”I’ll take the blame for opening the floodgates,” You said, tossing another folded t-shirt into his duffel bag. Bob let out a soft laugh that reverberated through your back, warm and full in your ear.

”A-At least you’re a-admitting to it.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for a hoodie you had dug out from the corner of his closet.

”That doesn’t absolve you from having the highest sex drive I’ve ever encountered.” He groaned into your neck, kissing the sensitive flesh there as his arms tightened around you again.

”T-Technically,” He started, drawing the word out, “I’m trying to satiate three different sex d-drives here…” You froze mid-fold, raising your eyebrows at him again.

”Excuse me?” He lifted his head, like he was explaining simple math to you.

”Well…You can’t just put this all on m-me when there’s…Y’know…Two other entities l-living in here.” You immediately started shaking your head at him, giggling slightly in disbelief.

”You are not blaming your libido on Sentry and The Void.” He shrugged, smiling helplessly.

”I-I’m just saying…T-They have opinions too.” You hummed, fighting against the grin on your lips.

”I’m sure they do…But I never thought The Void was needy.” Bob nodded with mock solemnity.

”You’re right, h-he does tend to stay q-quiet unless he really wants to surprise y-you.” You threw his hoodie into the duffel bag.

”Sentry, though…”

“D-Don’t say his name…” Bob cut in quickly, “O-Or else he might be summoned.” He whispered. Which immediately made you double over with a laugh as Bob collapsed back onto the carpet beneath you, his large arms taking you down with him.

You both laid there for a second, tangled in each other and soft cotton, letting the laughter settle in your chests like a weight you wanted to carry. It had only been two months since you started going out with each other–officially. But it hadn’t exactly come out of nowhere.

From the second the Thunderbolts moved into the compound together, you had been drawn to Bob. You didn’t know why at first. He was quiet, hesitant, and always outside the room even when he was inside it. He was your total opposite. But he looked at you like you owned the moon and the stars–and that kind of gaze stuck with you.

It wasn’t long before you started orbiting each other in a way that felt deliberate. Every mission debrief, you found yourself sitting closer to one another. Every team meal, you would share your food with him, and he would do the same with you. Every long hallway walk back from training, he held the door for you with flushed cheeks and twitching hands. He loved the way you smiled, and that was all he wanted to make you do, all the time.

Then, two months ago, it happened. A soft moment. A long look. A kiss in the quiet of your room after a late-night movie together, and then–

You were his. And he was yours.

Now you found yourself in the dangerous phase where everything felt like fire under your skin. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He touched you constantly. Kissed you at red lights when it was only you and him in the car. Fell asleep with his fingers curled in your shirt. And snuck into your room at midnight and left your sheets twisted by the morning.

And yet–no one knew.

Not Bucky, nor Yelena, or Ava or Walker…Not even Alexei, even though he had his suspicions. You had both agreed to keep things under wraps until you were ready. Until it wasn’t so new. Until Bob was sure he could be looked at without being seen as a danger to you by the rest of the group. It was not like they didn’t trust him, but in the midst of everything going on with The Void and Sentry, it was easy for them to baby him and treat him like he was always on the brink of exploding, even though that wasn’t the case–mostly because you grounded him.

But both of you were able to admit it was getting harder and harder to keep your relationship under wraps, especially with how much you were sneaking around.

Bob turned his head and kissed your cheek again–slow and soft, right in that spot where he knew it would make you sigh. His lips lingered a second longer than necessary, and it was so sweet it was almost infuriating.

You groaned, flopping your head back against his shoulder. “Okay. We’re getting off-task again. Can you please contribute to the packing so we can get on our way?” He pouted, eyes wide and glistening, still reflecting the sea blue that always put you in a trance.

”A-Alright…Alright. But I want one more kiss.” He said sheepishly. You stared at him for a beat, then leaned in and kissed him on the mouth–firm but brief, something halfway between a promise and a bribe. He chased it for a second when you pulled away, but you were already on your feet, dusting off your thighs and grabbing the half empty duffel.

”Now, help me find those flip flops we bought for you last week,” You said pointing toward his closet.

————————

Thirty minutes later, you were finally on the road.

The sun had begun its slow descent, dipping low and gold behind the treetops as you pulled out of the compound’s gravel lot. The world beyond the gate opened up wide and free–the start of the real sky, of long stretches of road and salt tinged air rising up from the distant coast.

It was warm in the car. That perfect kind of summer heat–the one that lingered on your skin without stifling you. Your hand rested lightly on the wheel, guiding the car through curves and straightaways with practiced ease, in your other hand, condensation clung to your iced coffee cup as you sipped slowly, the straw catching slightly between your lips every now and again.

Beside you, Bob was quiet. Legs drawn up a little, barefoot, with sun streaking through the passenger-side window. His hair was still a little damp from his earlier shower, curling slightly at the edges and shining in the glow of the beams that cascaded over the light brown crown of his head. He wore the black soft cotton t-shirt you liked stealing, and his body had settled into that familiar, lazy sprawl that only happened when he was truly content.

The compound was behind you, and the beach was straight ahead. And for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to exhale. This was the start of something nice and soft, a time to actually relax and not think about anything other than your found family and your secret lover.

Then you felt Bob’s warm hand spreading across your thigh.

At first it was casual, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, resting just above your knee. You didn’t even glance at him, because Bob always did this–it was his way to soothe himself.

But then his thumb started to move.

A slow, deliberate drag along the inside of your thigh. It certainly wasn’t innocent, and it had alternative intentions.

You shot him a warning glance.

”Bob–“ He didn’t look at you, he just kept his eyes forward, with a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and then you caught the glow in his irises. It was very faint, but you knew the signs better than anyone else.

“Oh, for the love of god.” Sentry’s fingers crept a little higher on your thigh, just enough to make your breath hitch around the straw of your coffee.

”Come on…” He said deeply. Sentry’s voice was silkier, and lower. Touched by something celestial and smug, “Don’t act like you didn’t know I was going to make an appearance.” You groaned, putting your drink down into the cup holder, before dragging your damp hand down your face.

”Sentry…Now is definitely not the time. We literally just got on the road.” You said sternly. He leaned in, not touching you beyond the dangerously warm hand on your thigh, but close enough that you could feel the heat of his gaze.

”Yet, I’ve been waiting patiently. I watched you pack up his bag, and bend over and kiss his cheek as if I wasn’t even there.” His thumb made another slow sweep, dragging a little higher now, just an inch–but an inch too far, “You’re lucky I didn’t ruin the folding party,” He added, grinning now. Your jaw tensed as you kept your eyes on the road, trying very hard not to give him the reaction he was digging for.

”You’re not ruining this road trip fifteen minutes in,” You said firmly.

”Mmm,” He hummed, “I’m sure there’s a lookout space somewhere nearby. We’re already late, what’s another half hour going to do?” You shot him a withering glance.

”Sentry,” You warned, “You know it’s going to be suspicious if we show up super late. I know how you are. It won’t be half an hour. It’ll be half the damn evening and we won’t get to the beach house until midnight or something.” He bit the inside of his cheek before letting the corner of his mouth tilt.

”All I want is a little taste,” He said, voice dark with promise, “Fifteen minutes. We pull off, throw ourselves in the back on top of our bags. I go down on you quickly, then we get back on the road and nobody will know a thing.” You stared ahead, feeling your heart thudding against your chest. His hand hadn’t moved, it just burned against you like a promise waiting to be claimed.

”And hey…We can even pick up something from a market along the way and pretend we made a quick stop to cover up our trail,” He added helpfully, “A 24 case of beer will definitely be a good peace offering…It would be believable.” The hand on your thigh squeezed–gently, but with purpose. Just enough to make your pulse skip and your breath falter.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Sentry murmured, voice low and amused, like it thrilled him. “It’s stuttering. All fluttery and sweet. It does that when you’re thinking about me.” His thumb resumed its slow, teasing pass along the inside of your leg, brushing higher this time–so close to dangerous territory it made your stomach clench. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, and that was your downfall, because of course…He felt it.

”Oh, sweetheart…” He drawled, his voice smooth and coaxing, “Don’t do that. You’ll have all that friction and it won’t be able to go anywhere…You’ll make yourself ache. Let me fix it for you…” His hand inched slightly higher, fingertips ghosting the hem of your shorts, toying with the edge like he was already imagining sliding them down your legs in the backseat. You let out a sharp exhale and kept your eyes forward, but he leaned in closer, voice dropping to something deep and honeyed as he whispered:

“You know…I can smell your pheromones right? I can smell everything. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already tempting the divine…Don’t make me beg.” You swallowed hard, jaw clenched, and glanced down at your phone where it sat in the center console with the maps app still open. Estimated arrival time: 7:04 PM.

You didn’t even care about being late. But the team would care. And so would Bob, mostly because he would think you almost blew your covers, but at this point…You were putting that off to the side.

Your voice came out rougher than you intended–strained, but full of warning, “I’m going to set a fucking timer, Sentry.” He stilled slightly, his brows raising in curiosity. You glanced over at him just enough to see his eyes–those shimmering, celestial irises already brightening with every breath you took, devouring every word you were about to say.

”I’ll give you fifteen minutes, not a second more. We can have our little backseat romp session, but then I want Bob back so we can get to the beach house without another stunt like this. Deal?” He didn’t hesitate. He raised his free hand, as if he was swearing a divine oath.

”I will keep my promise,” He purred, lips tilting into something between appreciation and mischief. You groaned, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter before flipping on your turn signal.

“Let me find a fucking exit…”

Sentry reclined smugly in his seat, already victorious. “Good girl.” You rolled your eyes.

”You’re lucky the back windows are tinted.” Sentry didn’t move his hand–just let it linger, warm and steady on your thigh as you guided the car down the exit ramp toward a small turnout nestled beneath a canopy of trees. The kind of hidden roadside clearing that was perfect for a quick stop…Or a god-tier rendezvous. He was watching you with that look again. The one that belonged solely to him, not Bob. All gleam and heat and slow-moving hunger. He looked like temptation itself–bathed in the soft, dusky glow bleeding in through the windshield, his smirk half-wicked, half-worshipful.

“I could’ve asked to do it in front of a window without a tint,” he said softly, leaning back like he wasn’t plotting sin, “And you still would’ve said yes.” Your breath caught, “You like my tongue too much to care about an audience.” Your knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. You made a strained noise of disbelief in the back of your throat and gave a low grunt.

“Text the group chat,” You growled, eyes flicking to the parked gravel lot ahead, shaded and deserted. “Tell them there’s traffic, that we’re behind. Say we’re stopping to grab a case of beer. Make it sound casual.”

Sentry made a pleased little sound in his throat, already unlocking Bob’s phone with one swipe. “I love when you get like this,” He murmured as he thumbed out a message.

“Bob: Hey srry, we hit some crappy traffic, gonna be a bit late, going to stop and grab beer so no one complains ❤️❤️❤️”

”You’re putting too many hearts,” You muttered.

”I’m in a loving mood,” He replied, “Or maybe I’m just…Warming up.” He commented, returning his hand back to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. You pulled into the shaded turnout, tires crunching slowly over gravel as you eased the car to a stop beneath a thick curtain of trees. The sound of the highway faded, replaced by the gentle hum of nature and the distant whisper of the coast.

You turned off the ignition and grabbed your phone off the console, flicking to the clock app to put in the timer. You set it for fifteen minutes, and pressed start, before dropping it into the cupholder with a thunk.

Sentry was already shifting toward you in his seat, his pupils blown, and his mouth already watering in anticipation.

“Backseat. Now.” You ordered.

He obeyed without hesitation. But not before dragging his palm slowly up your inner thigh one last time, a promise etched into that final touch.

“Don’t worry,” He murmured as he unbuckled, voice dark and sweet as sin, “I’ll make every second count.” You didn’t wait for another cue. In one smooth motion, you shifted your weight and climbed between the seats–knee first, then twisting your hips as you hauled yourself into the back without ever leaving the car. It wasn’t graceful, but it was efficient–and Sentry made a sound the second your ass brushed past his face.

“Fuck,” He muttered low, and before you even had both feet off the console, his hand came down in a playful smack against your backside. You jolted, letting out a sharp gasp as you turned to glare over your shoulder.

“Seriously?”

“You’re the one waving it in my face like an invitation,” He purred, gaze locked on your curves like he was already halfway undressing you with just his stare. “You expect me not to say hello?” You flopped back onto the bags, thighs spreading automatically as you settled into the soft, uneven pile. The duffels creaked under your weight, but they cradled you perfectly–your legs open, head tipped back, heart already hammering.

Sentry followed in a slow, almost stalk-like crawl. His eyes were molten gold, his mouth parted slightly like he could already taste you.

And the moment he was between your legs, he didn’t speak.

He went straight for your shorts.

His fingers hooked into the waistband, tugging them down with one smooth pull—and your underwear followed, sliding down your thighs and calves and off with a gentle rustle. He bunched them up in his hand, then casually tossed them into the front seat like one would toss a bouquet at a wedding.

“I love this seat now,” He muttered.

You didn’t get a chance to retort–he was already back on you.

Sentry’s mouth descended onto your belly first–hot, slow kisses pressed just beneath your navel, where your shirt had rode up and exposed your skin. He worshipped his way down: lips dragging, breath heavy, hands stroking your sides like he wanted to memorize every inch before devouring the center of you.

You parted your thighs even more for him and his breath hitched.

“God, yes,” He breathed, reverent and aching, like the sight of you made him lose all of his thoughts for a second. Sentry exhaled hard through his nose as you opened yourself wider for him. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you further like he needed to see every inch, and his gaze–bright, golden, hungry–burned a trail straight to your core.

Then he dipped his head.

The first stroke of his tongue was filthy.

A long, unrestrained lick from your entrance all the way up through your folds, ending in a slow, devastating flick against your clit that made your back arch off the bags. He moaned into you like he’d been craving this for days, like you were his personal religion.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathed against you, and then he was all mouth.

Lips, tongue, teeth–he worshipped you with all of it. He lapped at you like he was trying to memorize your taste, then sealed his mouth around your clit and sucked with a precision that made your hips jerk. You cried out, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling, hard, as your other hand reached out blindly and was promptly pinned to the seat.

He held you there. Just enough pressure to keep you grounded, trembling beneath the mouth of a god.

He looked up at you as he worked–eyes locked to yours, glowing with unfiltered desire. Your hips began to grind instinctively, rutting against his tongue, and he groaned–loud and guttural–at the feel of it. The vibration shot through your entire body, igniting the tension building in your gut like it was being called forward.

And just when you were about to fall apart, he pulled back.

His mouth was slick, chin shining, lips red and parted as he stared up at you with a sinful kind of reverence.

“Look at you,” He rasped, voice thick and ruined, “Already grinding on my face like a good little thing. I knew you missed this.”

You whimpered, and he grinned like he’d won a war.

Then he dove back in.

His tongue was relentless this time–messier, wetter, devouring you like you were the last thing he’d ever taste. Your legs trembled, your hips stuttered and rolled against his face, and his moans only got louder. His tongue circled your clit and sucked hard, and you shattered–with a cry and a full-body jerk as the orgasm ripped through you, fast and merciless.

Your legs clamped around his head, and still he kept going, licking through it, eyes fluttering half shut as he groaned into your core like your pleasure was the most delicious thing in existence.

You collapsed back against the duffels, panting, twitching, vision swimming.

And he still didn’t move.

Not until your thighs loosened and your hand slipped from his hair.

Then he slowly pulled back, breath heavy, lips wet, and reached casually over the seat to tap the screen of your phone.

Seven minutes left.

He looked back at you, eyes flashing.

“Plenty of time.”

Before you could catch your breath, he was on you again–this time with a low growl, gripping your hips and dragging you closer until your thighs were slung over his shoulders. You barely had time to inhale before he buried his mouth in you again, and this time, he didn’t ease in.

He was ruthless.

Sentry licked and sucked with feverish intensity, tongue working your already sensitive clit until you were writhing–overstimulated, gasping, body trying to get away even as your hips betrayed you, chasing more friction. He held you still, strong arms wrapped around your thighs, anchoring you as his tongue danced through you like he owned your pleasure.

“Please–fuck, please–” You sobbed, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“You can take it,” He murmured against you, mouth hot and sticky, “Be good for me. Come on, sweet thing…Give me one more.”

You didn’t even realize you were grinding on him again until you felt how tightly you were rocking against his face–hips pulsing, chasing that high you swore had already ruined you. Your hand reached back to the seat, desperately clutching for leverage, and your thighs began to tremble.

Sentry moaned again. Louder. Hungrier. He followed your movements, let you grind against his face while he kept sucking your clit, letting you fuck yourself on his mouth like he was starving for it.

The orgasm ripped through you even harder than the first–violent, blinding, stars behind your eyes as your entire body locked up, a cry catching in your throat as your hips seized against him. You sobbed, gasped, twitched, and he kept licking until you slumped back against the bags, shaking.

Then he pulled off slowly, tongue sliding with one last lazy lick, and kissed the inside of your thigh.

He sighed like he was full.

“You’re unbelievable,”He whispered, voice low and worshipful. “Fucking gorgeous. So good for me. Such a perfect little thing, letting me ruin you like that.”

You were still panting, barely able to lift your head.

“Sentry…” You breathed, voice hoarse. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. Maybe. But you’re glowing, and I’m proud of my work.”

He licked his lips, still tasting you, and looked dazed with pleasure.

Then he leaned up, slowly, and kissed your mouth.

It was deep, slow, and messy–your taste was still fresh on his lips, and you moaned against him without meaning to. He kissed you until you couldn’t breathe again, then finally pulled back just enough to murmur against your mouth:

“Hopefully,” He whispered, smug and tender, “You can recover for a minute or two…Before you get back to driving.” His eyes–bright and swirling with hints of caramel beneath the glow–scanned over you like he was taking inventory. Your hair was mussed, your shirt rumpled, your thighs still twitching faintly as your breath fought to steady itself. He looked proud. Not smug. Proud–like he’d just completed the holiest task of his life.

Then, gently, he reached down and smoothed his hands on the outside of your thighs, giving you one more kiss before saying:

”Let me help.” You gave him a small nod, watching as he reached toward the front seat and grabbed your discarded shorts and underwear. Carefully, he slipped your underwear back on–guiding each foot through the holes and sliding the fabric back up your thighs with featherlight fingers. His knuckles brushed your hips as he tugged the waistband gently into place. Then he leaned forward and kissed your stomach, right above the hem.

“So beautiful.” He murmured against your skin. You let out a long exhale, watching him closely as he did the same thing with your shorts–lifting and fitting them over your legs, being as gentle as possible. He let his fingers linger for just an extra second at your hips before pulling back, offering you both his hands.

”Come on,” He said softly, his voice now hinting with the familiar cadence of Bob returning beneath the surface. “Let’s get you up front before he wakes up and before your legs decide to go on strike.” You let him haul you up, giggling breathlessly as you stumbled a bit and collapsed into his chest. He steadied you with both arms wrapped around your back, holding you there as your head rested on his shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded into his neck.

”Yeah, just dating a guy who has a menace living inside him.” And he let out a small laugh.

————————

The car still smelled like you.

Even with the windows cracked to let the salt air in and the case of beer tucked safely in the trunk, the interior held the faintest trace of heat and sweat and you–like citrus and sugar and something warm he couldn’t name. The radio was low now, playing a soft stretch of guitar through the static as the trees thinned around you, and the narrow road shifted into something more golden. Sunlight spilled like honey through the canopy overhead, dappling the long gravel drive leading to the beach house with flickering, buttery light.

Bob leaned forward slightly in the passenger seat, eyes wide and quiet as the house came into view–wood-paneled, two-storied, all soft cedar and wide windows that caught the last of the sun and bounced it back into the sea below. You could hear waves in the distance already, even with the engine still humming beneath you. A long wraparound porch stretched across the front of the house, framed by tall grasses and uneven dunes, and parked cars were scattered along the side like lazy footprints. You recognized Walker’s truck immediately, and Alexei’s SUV beside it. Farther up, Bucky’s bike leaned half in shadow near the porch, its chrome handlebars still catching the last low light.

“Almost there,” You murmured, easing off the gas as the tires crunched softly over the gravel. You reached for your iced coffee again, now mostly melted and watered down, the condensation ring still etched into the center console.

Bob, still barefoot, tugged slightly at the hem of his black t-shirt and glanced sideways at you, his voice quieter now. “S-So…How’re we gonna pull this off?” He scratched at the back of his neck, hair still slightly mussed from the backseat, and you could see the concern flickering beneath his tone–half nerves, half anticipation. “R-Rooming together, I mean. W-We’re gonna need a story, right? Or else…”

You raised your eyebrows and cut him off with a soft, sly smile, “I just ‘accidentally’ booked a house with one less room.”

Bob blinked. “You what?”

You shrugged, eyes forward again as you navigated the last turn into the long curve of the driveway. The house loomed larger now, golden in the dying sun. “We’re the last to arrive. Someone was going to get the short end of the straw either way. This way, it just happens to be us.”

His mouth parted slightly, brow lifting with astonished admiration. “Y-You’re very clever…” He breathed, voice warm with affection. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek–quick and soft, just before the car came to a full stop at the base of the porch stairs.

Your skin tingled where his lips had landed, but you didn’t let yourself react visibly. Instead, you reached down and turned off the engine.

The car fell silent, and for a moment, all you could hear was the ocean.

Bob stared up at the house like it might swallow him whole. You could feel the weight of his anxiety settle behind his chest, even though he was trying to play it cool. You slipped your hand over his, gave it a quick squeeze.

“Hey,” you whispered, “We’re going to have fun. That’s the whole point of this weekend, remember?” You raised a brow. “You know…Vacation? No missions. No compound stress. Just the beach. Board games. Barbecue. Bad drinks.”

His lips twitched. “A-And maybe some bad ideas,” He added, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.

“Definitely,” You agreed, grabbing your phone and slipping it into your pocket. You both got out of the car at the same time.

The air outside was humid, but not heavy—salt-kissed and breezy, laced with the low rhythmic hush of the tide. You stretched your arms overhead, your shirt lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of skin, and you caught the way Bob glanced at you before looking away quickly. Still flustered. Still sweet.

He grabbed the case of beer from the trunk while you took the small overnight bags. The sand crunched softly beneath your boots as you made your way up the porch steps, and the wooden boards creaked gently under your weight. Laughter spilled from inside–Yelena, unmistakably, and then a deeper voice you recognized as Alexei’s. The screen door rattled in the frame, propped open by a flip-flop.

You paused just before stepping inside, glancing at Bob one more time. His eyes met yours with something soft–nervous, but steady.

“We got this,” You said, nudging your shoulder into his.

He nodded. “O-One less room, huh?”

You smiled.

“Short end of the straw.”

And with that, you pushed open the door.

Inside, the beach house was warm with light–wood-paneled ceilings, string lights draped along the beams, and the cozy smell of something cooking already wafting in from the kitchen. The living room was scattered with mismatched throw pillows, a huge sectional wrapped around a coffee table stacked with snacks and card games. Someone had brought a Bluetooth speaker that was playing an old Rolling Stones song under the chatter. Walker was barefoot, sitting on the edge of the couch drinking a beer with his arm flung over the back, while Ava lay sideways across the cushions on her phone. Yelena was perched on the kitchen counter with a handful of kettle chips, and Alexei was in an apron, aggressively stirring whatever was inside a pot.

The room turned the second the screen door clicked shut behind you.

“Finally!” Yelena shouted, hopping down from the counter. “What the hell took you so long? You miss a turn and wind up in another state?”

”G-Guess there’s no service up here…G-Got stuck in traffic,” Bob explained, lifting the beer up, “A-And we decided to stop for t-this as a peace offering.” He placed the case on the island counter with a thud. Yelena narrowed her eyes.

”Mmm…Well that’s nice…But they’re warm.”

“They’re not warm,” Ava called from the couch. “They’re body temperature. Like they’ve been sweating in a hot car for hours.”

You kicked off your boots, smirking. “Then someone better put them in the fridge if you want to be hydrated by nightfall.”

Alexei gave a loud cheer and clapped Bob on the back hard enough to jostle him. “Bob! You pack swim trunk, or are we going to encourage skinny dipping?”

Bob blushed so violently it touched the tips of his ears. “I-I packed,” He said quickly.

You reached for your bag and motioned casually to the stairs. “Which room are we getting?”

Bucky appeared from the hallway, arms crossed, already looking like he’d claimed the bedroom with the best view. “There’s one left. Top of the stairs, last door on your right. Double bed. Sucks to be the last ones here…”

You nodded, keeping your expression even.

“Guess we drew the short straw Bob…Hope you like sleeping on the floor.” You joked.

You followed Bob up the narrow, creaky staircase, the wood groaning under your footsteps and the hum of laughter still trailing from the kitchen behind you. The upstairs hallway smelled like cedar and sea salt. A tall window at the end of the corridor cast a rectangle of gold light across the hardwood, and you could hear the distant, rhythmic crash of waves through the thin summer walls.

“L-Last door on the right,” Bob said softly, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was still a little hoarse–quiet from nerves or from what had happened earlier in the car, you couldn’t quite tell. Probably both.

The room wasn’t big, but it was perfect.

A double bed was pressed against the wall, low and wide, with fresh white sheets and a faded blue quilt that looked like it had been dried in the sun one too many times. The window above the bed was cracked open, letting in a soft breeze that lifted the edges of the curtains gently like breath. Through the slats, you could see the glittering edge of the ocean just beyond the trees, gold sun sinking into darkening blue. A small dresser sat in one corner, its top empty except for a lone seashell bowl and a lamp that hadn’t been turned on. A fan clacked softly in the ceiling overhead.

Bob hovered in the doorway for a second, like he didn’t quite believe this was real.

You stepped past him, tossing your bag onto the foot of the bed and letting yourself take a slow, indulgent breath.

“Not bad,” You said, turning back to face him with a playful tilt of your mouth. “Definitely cozy.”

Bob let out a breathy laugh, finally crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “I-It’s perfect,” He murmured. His eyes drifted to the bed, then back to you. “D-Do you think…W-We’ll be okay sharing that?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve seen you take up more space on a couch than that bed,” you teased, “I think we’ll manage.”

He smiled, stepping closer, his hands still fiddling with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

The tension was different now–softer, quieter. The chaos of arriving was behind you. The shared room was secured. The door was closed. The window was open to the salt air and the hush of waves.

And you were alone.

Bob reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin.

“Y-You were amazing earlier…In the car,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I know it’s not always easy when he comes out in my moments of happiness like that. I just–wanted you to know I’m grateful. F-For you. For…Everything.”

Your chest ached at the way he said it. Honest. Bare. Like you were holding his whole heart. You stepped in, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. He folded into you like a tide, resting his chin gently on your shoulder, his arms sliding around you in return. His breath was warm against your neck as he kissed the smooth skin there. You turned your head slightly, just enough to let your nose brush against his jaw, and then you whispered:

“I love every piece of you, Bob. Every single one. The quiet parts, the powerful parts, even the ones that scare you a little. They’re all you—and I love them all.” His breath hitched ever so slightly, and his arms tightened around you in that way that always made your heart ache a little, because it was like he was trying to make sure you didn’t float away.

Then you added, just a little softer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips:

“And, hey… it’s also kind of a perk that when you’re at peak Sentry, you’re practically putty in my hands.”

Bob huffed a quiet laugh—half embarrassed, half endeared—his forehead tipping against yours. “Th-That’s not fair,” he murmured, grinning shyly, “Y-You already have me wrapped around your finger without any celestial interference…” You opened your mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Yelena.

”DINNER IS IN TEN!” Her voice carried like a bombshell from the kitchen, followed by the distinct clatter of a pot lid being thrown into the sink.

”STOP THROWING THINGS, WE’RE RENTING THIS PLACE!” Ava yelled. You let out a little groan, and pressed your forehead to his, hearing a soft laugh escape his throat.

“W-We should go down before she comes up here with a spatula…”

”Or worse…A truth serum.” You added, taking a step back, “Let’s go, pretty boy.”

———————

After dinner, everyone moved in slow, satisfied motions–bellies full, limbs relaxed. Alexei’s strange but oddly delicious pasta had vanished quickly, and someone had cracked open the beer before it could fully chill. The plates were stacked haphazardly beside the sink, and instead of drawing straws or assigning chores, a quiet sort of rhythm formed.

Bob washed.

You dried.

Yelena stacked the dishes with unnecessary aggression while muttering under her breath about how she always got “dish-duty by proximity.” Ava supervised, occasionally leaning over to correct the stacking form while sipping wine from a novelty mug. Bucky wandered in halfway through the clean-up with a dish towel over his shoulder and somehow managed to avoid doing anything except drying one fork and then disappearing again. You didn’t even know where Walker had gone, but the open back door suggested he’d escaped onto the porch with the Bluetooth speaker and a fresh beer, and Alexei had sprawled out on the couch.

Eventually, with the kitchen cleaned and the sink no longer threatening to overflow, the group gathered in the living room. Someone dimmed the lights. Bob claimed a spot on the corner of the couch, and you casually sank down beside him. A blanket was draped over the back cushions–threadbare and too warm for the weather, but you tugged it down anyway, letting it spill across your lap and his.

You didn’t say a word.

You just reached for his hand beneath it.

He let you take it, let your fingers lace with his, and his thumb drew slow, steady circles against your palm as the movie began to play. Something old. Familiar. Background noise for a room full of ex-operatives pretending to be ordinary.

No one noticed you. No one questioned the blanket. Maybe they were too full, or too tired. Maybe they didn’t care. But Bob’s breathing slowed the second your hand found his, and you could feel the way his shoulders eased against the cushions, just from that simple, hidden touch.

The movie ran long. People started peeling off one by one. First Walker, then Ava. Alexei disappeared upstairs muttering something about needing to “test the mattress.” Yelena stayed the longest–curled up in a chair with her hoodie pulled tight–before eventually yawning, retreating to her room soon after.

That left just you and Bob.

The TV still played–now quiet, some after-midnight rerun that neither of you were watching.

Bob shifted slightly, his hand still linked with yours under the blanket, and you could see the way the light touched the soft parts of his face, casting long shadows under his lashes and along the slope of his cheekbone.

You turned your head toward him, voice low.

“Hey,” You murmured, “Wanna go for a walk?”

He blinked slowly, like you’d caught him in the middle of a thought, then nodded. “Y-Yeah…It’s cooler now, right?”

“Much.” You smiled, pulling the blanket off and rising to your feet. “Tomorrow we’ll be roasting in the sun. Let’s take advantage while we can.”

You grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair and slipped it over your head as Bob did the same, and together, you padded barefoot across the wooden floors, out the back door, and down the stairs that led through the grass-covered dunes toward the shoreline.

The sky had settled into a deep indigo, the last hints of twilight drained away, and the stars had begun to peek through the clouds above. The moon was just enough–silver-bright and low, casting its glow across the dark stretch of water. The tide dragged in slow and lazy, brushing against the shore with a soft shush-shush that sounded like breathing.

You and Bob walked in silence for a while, shoulders occasionally brushing, your steps syncing as if you’d done this a hundred times before. There were no footprints ahead of you, only the ones you left behind.

Eventually, you stopped near a slope of dry sand that overlooked the water. You sat first, tucking your legs up loosely beneath you. Bob dropped beside you, not too close, but not far–like his gravity always pulled just slightly toward yours.

You tilted your head back, looking at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, the saltiness of the ocean stinging your lungs slightly.

“I could stay here forever,” You whispered.

Bob glanced over, eyes warm. “T-The beach?”

You nodded. “The quiet. The breeze. The water…All of it. It’s peaceful.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching your profile.

“D-Do you think about that a lot?” He asked softly, “L-Leaving the Thunderbolts and just h-having a normal life?” Your fingers curled into the sand.

“Sometimes,” You admitted. “Not in a running-away kind of way. Just in a…‘What would life be like if it wasn’t chaos all the time’ kind of way.”

He nodded slowly. “Y-Yeah…”

You turned your head toward him, the wind catching the tips of your hair. “You ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t on the team?” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, shifting a little bit so he was a bit closer to you.

His shoulders rose with a breath, and he let it out slowly–like he was weighing something, choosing the words carefully before letting them go.

“Well…” He said quietly, “I-I think…if I never met you guys, I probably would’ve still been in that b-box in the vault…”

You turned your head to look at him. His voice didn’t shake, but the words held a kind of weight that settled between you, soft but immense. “O-Or most likely dead and forgotten,” He added, more gently now, like the thought had been lingering for a long time. “But…If I wasn’t trapped in that b-box, or if I didn’t volunteer for the Sentry serum… I probably still would be on meth. S-Still strung out. N-Not really contributing to the world l-like I am now.” He gave a soft laugh, small and humorless, but not bitter. Just…real. Then, without another word, Bob leaned back into the sand, stretching his long limbs out with a soft grunt, his eyes fixed on the sky overhead. He looked younger like this–bathed in moonlight, barefaced and barefoot, his silhouette framed by starlight and the faint shimmer of ocean spray.

You followed him down, shifting to lay beside him so your heads were level, your hair brushing the edge of his shoulder. You turned your face toward his, and after a moment, reached for his hand. He gave it willingly–alway-sand your fingers threaded easily through his. The warmth of him, even now, pulsed steady and grounding against your skin.

There was a pause before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable.

“But I… I’m glad everything happened the way it did,” He whispered, eyes still on the stars, “C-Cause I wouldn’t have met you.”

Your heart squeezed. His thumb was trembling slightly against your palm, like the gravity of what he was saying was pushing through his whole body. And still, his voice held that stunned sort of wonder, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

You turned to him fully, propping yourself on your elbow as you leaned over, brushing his light brown hair gently back from his forehead. He blinked slowly, his eyes finding yours in the dark, and you saw everything in them. The gratitude. The ache. The awe.

Then you kissed him.

Soft. Gentle. Like the moonlight itself had dipped between you and pressed your mouths together.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t lustful. It was slow and full–like every word he couldn’t find was poured into that one, quiet connection. And when you pulled back, you kept your hand against his cheek, letting your thumb brush along the high arc of it, just beneath his eye.

“I’m glad too,” you whispered, your voice low, full of a warm, aching kind of honesty. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you found us. And I’m really…really glad you found me.”

His breath hitched. You felt it under your fingertips. But his smile was soft, full of something steady and glowing.

“I’d choose you,” You added, gently. “In any timeline. On any team. With or without the serum…I’d still fall for you.”

Bob turned his face into your hand a little, eyes fluttering closed, as he whispered back:

“I’d fall for you too. A-Again and again.”

You lay down beside him fully now, your head on his shoulder, your hand still holding his. The waves whispered in the distance. The stars blinked above you. And for a little while, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you–quiet, safe, and absolutely seen.

——————

The room was still dark, kissed only by a faint, early gray light leaking in through the slats of the blinds. Outside, the sound of the tide had softened into something gentler–just the hush-hush rhythm of saltwater sliding over sand.

Inside, the air was warm. Heavy with body heat. Still.

You blinked slowly awake, muscles stiff from sleep, and realized almost instantly that you hadn’t moved in hours.

Bob was wrapped around you like a blanket.

One long arm curved over your waist, the other curled under your head like a makeshift pillow. His chest was pressed to your back, bare and slow with each breath, and his legs were tangled with yours beneath the sun-dried quilt. His forehead rested against the top of your shoulder, and his mouth was half-open against your skin—breathing hot little puffs that clung to your collarbone, sticky with sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh, shifting just enough to test the weight of his grip.

He didn’t stir.

You tried again, this time with a little more effort–attempting to slide your leg out from between his–but the second you moved, his arm tightened around you instinctively. A low, sleepy sound rumbled from his throat, not quite a groan… more like a murmur. His hips shifted a little, like he was seeking you out.

That’s when you felt his erection through his soft jersey sleep shorts, pressed flush against your lower back. He didn’t even seem aware of it yet–he was still snoring lightly, his mouth sticking slightly against your skin with each breath–but the heat of it, the weight, was undeniable. And growing.

You let your eyes slip closed for a second and tried to breathe through the flare of arousal that pulsed low in your core.

Then you felt his nose nuzzle against your shoulder.

Followed by a kiss.

Slow. Barely-there. Like his body was already making decisions his mind hadn’t caught up with yet. Another kiss came next, right where your shoulder met your neck–and this time, his hips twitched forward, just a subtle roll, like instinct.

You let out a soft, accidental sound–something between a sigh and a quiet gasp–and felt him tense behind you.

Bob’s breath caught.

And then you felt his erection twitch against you, pulsing hot through the barriers between you both.

“…Crap,” He whispered hoarsely, voice thick with sleep. His hand flexed against your stomach, like he just realized he was holding you that tightly. “S-Sorry…”

You smiled softly, still facing away, voice barely audible. “Don’t apologize.” You turned your head slightly, just enough for your nose to brush his cheek. His breath stuffered, and he let out a quiet, fragile sound–a mix between a sigh and a groan–as his hips rolled forward again. The heat of him pressed fully into the curve of your backside this time, unmistakably eager now, and definitely awake.

His hand slipped up your torso, fingers smoothing gently along your stomach.

”Y-You know, I was just d-dreaming about you…” He rolled his hips again–slow, sweet pressure that sent a flush of heat straight through your belly. You hummed.

”Well…Now I’m right in front of you, so what are you going to do?” You asked, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. He groaned and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, kissing just below your ear as his hand slid lower, gently tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts.

”I-I’m gonna take care of you.” He replied, breath catching as he pulled them down slowly, being extra careful not to pull away from the heat of your body. You lifted your hips slightly to help him, and the material slipped down over your thighs, pooling beneath the covers.

Then you felt him shifting behind you–his own sleep shorts sliding down just enough for skin to meet skin. He pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades as he brought your leg over his thigh, guiding you open with gentle, trembling fingers.

You could feel the tip of him, hot and slow, sliding through your wetness–teasing, and patient. And then, with a quiet exhale, he eased himself in.

The stretch was slow and aching–every inch of him pressing deeper until he was fully buried inside you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

You gasped, eyes fluttering, and he immediately reached up, covering your mouth with his hand. His palm was warm, a little shaky, but careful–pressing just enough to muffle you without smothering.

“Shh…” He whispered, kissing your neck as his hips began to move, slow and deep, “Y-You’ll wake the whole house…”

His voice was wrecked already–raspy and breathless, full of longing. His movements were steady but aching with restraint, his body coiled tightly behind yours as he rocked into you with each measured thrust.

“You f-feel so good,” He cooed against your shoulder, voice almost broken, “So warm…So soft around me…”

Your back arched involuntarily, your body melting into his as he moved inside you, breath brushing over your skin like a prayer.

“I–I dream about this,” He confessed, his hand tightening just a little over your mouth when he felt you moan. “Every night, I dream about being inside you like this…” His other hand gripped your thigh where it was draped over his, holding you open for him as he pressed deeper, grinding instead of thrusting, like he needed every second of contact.

“You’re my favorite feeling in the world,” He breathed, voice cracking as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, “N-Nothing else even comes close…”

You whimpered behind his hand, and he felt it–your sound against his palm, your body trembling as you clenched around him. It made him groan, a soft broken sound he buried against your skin.

“G-God,” He gasped, “You’re perfect, you’re everything…”

His hips stuttered, and you felt him shiver behind you–he was close. So close. And trying so hard to keep it together.

But the way you felt around him, the way your body rocked back to meet him with each slow push, the way your legs trembled and your hands clenched the sheets…

It was unraveling him.

“Come for me,” He whispered, muffling another moan against your skin. “P-Please… Let me feel it…”

You didn’t need much more.

The combination of his voice, the press of his hips, the hand over your mouth holding you in that secret, quiet space–it sent you over the edge. You arched into him, muffled cries caught in his palm as your body clenched and shuddered with pleasure.

He groaned when he felt you fall apart, hips jerking as he buried himself deeper one last time, then stilled–shuddering, gasping softly into the hollow of your shoulder as he let go filling you up with warm hot ropes of cum. The room was silent, save for the sound of your breath mingling with his.

He didn’t move for a long moment, he just stayed there, inside you, holding you close with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other still gently covering your mouth until your breathing slowed.

Then, with a soft hum, he kissed your shoulder one more time, and pulled out slowly, hearing a muffled gasp leave your throat. His hand dropped from your mouth, and his fingers brushed your cheek gentle before going down to rest on your waist. You turned in his arms, curling toward him, and he shifted back instinctively, giving you space–but not distance.

His face was flushed, glowing faintly in the dim early light. His lips were kiss-swollen, his hair a mess of soft strands sticking to his forehead. And those eyes–half-lidded, shining, still dazed with the echo of your body around him–blinked slowly as he met your gaze.

You leaned in, brushing your mouth against his, slow and sweet, lingering just long enough to taste the sleep still on his lips. When you pulled back, your voice was low, your words tinted with something warm and teasing.

“Y’know,” You murmured, “It sucks we can’t do that more often.”Bob huffed a quiet laugh, cheeks tinting even deeper pink.

“Y-Yeah…” He mumbled, then kissed you again, quick and tender. “H-Hopefully when we’re ready to t-tell them…It’ll give us more time to do this.”You smiled against his mouth and reached up to brush your fingers along the side of his face, thumb stroking just beneath his cheekbone.

“You’ll be moving your stuff into my room, I hope.” He nodded immediately, voice barely a whisper.

“O-Of course. A-All of it.” You tucked your head beneath his chin, letting your fingers trace light circles across his bare chest.

“Good,” You whispered. “Then maybe we won’t have to sneak around anymore. Bob let out a soft, breathy laugh, and tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“I-I don’t mind sneaking around, but having more mornings like this with you would be so much b-better.” You sighed contentedly into his chest, then tilted your head up and kissed the underside of his jaw.

”As romantic as that is,” You started, “I have to pee.” A groggy whine escaped his throat the moment you tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he released you–albeit reluctantly–letting his arms fall away with a dramatic sigh.

“Such a sour puss,” You teased, with a smile as you stood and grabbed a fresh pair of shorts from your bag. He mumbled something incoherent into the pillow, as you disappeared into the small adjoining bathroom, flicking on the light before sitting down on the toilet with a sigh. You stayed there for a moment, letting his cum drip out of you, while your muscles began to ache slightly in the most satisfying way. You waited a few minutes there, until you wiped, flushed, slipped on your fresh pair of shorts and went to wash your hands, splashing some cold water on your face to shake the sleep off of it. When you glanced in the mirror, you saw your reflection looking flushed and soft, your lips swollen and your hair slightly mussed.

You smiled.

Moments later, you tiptoed downstairs barefoot, the old wooden steps creaking softly beneath your weight. The morning light was barely creeping into the beach house, casting long shadows through the kitchen windows and illuminating the dust in the air like glitter suspended in water.

You were alone for about ten seconds.

Then–

“Morning.”

You startled a little, glancing toward the living room, where Bucky sat slouched at the edge of the couch, already halfway through a mug of coffee. His hair was tied back, a few loose strands falling around his face, and his voice was scratchy with sleep. He was wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt which allowed his vibranium arm to refract the morning light that shined through the windows.

“Morning,” You said smoothly after you caught your breath, opening the cupboard to grab a mug and filling it at the tap before reaching for the coffee pot. The smell was heavenly–dark and rich and blessedly bitter. He watched you for a moment, then cleared his throat.

”Long night?” You froze with the coffee pot tilted halfway to your mug.

Just for a second.

Then, slowly—calmly—you finished pouring, set the pot back on the burner, and turned around, your mug cradled casually in your hands.

“Yeah,” you said, letting your voice stay light, breezy. “A little. Bob and I stayed up for a bit after everyone went to bed.”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t waver. He took another slow sip of his coffee, and when he lowered the mug, there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” he said.

Your breath caught.

“I saw you guys on the beach, actually.” You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Because you didn’t know what he meant by that, was he watching for long? Or did he just catch a glimpse of the both of you? Those were the burning questions that lingered in your mind. But your poker face didn’t falter. Not yet. You took a slow sip of your coffee.

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm,” He nodded, swirling the liquid in his mug. “You were sitting real close. Talking. Then lying down together for a while.” His voice was still scratchy with sleep, but his tone was deliberate. Easy. Controlled. Testing.

“I figured it was one of those ‘Thunderbolts trauma-bond’ kind of talks,” He added, voice edged with amusement. “Until you kissed him.” The heat in your cheeks crawled down your neck like a slow steady burn, and you swallowed hard, eyes flicking away from Bucky’s unreadable gaze, attempting to play it off.

“Chalk it up to…a heat of the moment thing,” you said lightly, forcing a shrug as you stared down into your coffee. “It was a nice night. Things just…Felt right, and we y’know kissed, that’s all…”

But Bucky didn’t budge.

He just stared at you–calm, patient, eyes sharp even through the softness of morning light–and took another sip of his coffee.

“Y’know…” He started, tone deceptively casual, “I had my suspicions for a while, especially with the way he gets all boyish and giddy around you…But I never had proof, though…Till I saw your location yesterday when you two were supposedly stuck in traffic.” You glanced up sharply, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. He didn’t look angry, it was just a glance of knowing.

”And I saw you weren’t on the highway anymore, you’d pulled off. And about twenty minutes went by before your pin started moving again…Then with the kiss, everything really clicked…” You felt the blood drain from your face only to rush back hotter than before. Your pulse hammered in your ears. Slowly, shakily, you set your coffee mug down on the counter with a quiet clink, hands trembling slightly.

“So…How long have you and him been seeing each other like that?” He asked.

”…Two months,” You admitted, barely above a whisper. Bucky nodded once, taking that in. His jaw ticked, and he exhaled through his nose.

“How long are you planning to hide it from us?” He asked, not accusing–just…Curious. Honest. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

“We just wanted to keep it a thing between us…Until we were ready,” You said, your voice thin, your throat tight. “Until it wasn’t so new. Until we weren’t worried that…If it went public, people would start treating him like a bomb again.” Bucky’s shoulders sank a little, his eyes flicking away for just a second–guilt passing like a cloud over his expression. He nodded slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I get that,” He said finally. Then he sighed, the weight of it long and tired. “But…Are you gonna tell the rest of the team?” You hesitated.

”Are you?” You retorted, which made him shake his head.

”That’s not my call…That’s up to you two. I just…I feel bad that you think you can’t tell us. That it’s something you gotta hide.” He set his mug down, bracing his hands loosely on the counter.

“I mean, most of us have our suspicions. Hell, Ava’s been keeping score on who catches the most looks between you two. But that’s different than hearing it straight from you.” His eyes flicked to yours again, gentler this time. “It’s different when it’s confirmed.” Your mouth was dry. Your heart still raced. But something in your chest eased–just a little.

“…Are you mad?” You asked softly.

He shook his head again. “No. Just…I wish you felt like you could trust us with something that clearly means a lot to you.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding. “It does,” You whispered. “He does.”

“Then maybe it’s time to stop pretending,” He said, pushing away from the counter. “Because if he’s yours…Then you deserve to be honest about it and be proud about it.” You nodded, staring down at your mug again. Bucky turned to head back toward the living room, then paused.

“For what it’s worth…” He said without looking back, “I think you’re good for each other. Might even be the first damn bit of softness either of you has ever had.” Then he left the conversation.

——————

The sun was already high by the time the house started to stir again. Someone had opened the screen door to let the breeze through, and the smell of sunscreen and brewing coffee lingered in the warm air.

Back upstairs, you stood near the dresser, slipping into your bikini with your back to the bed. It was a modest one–navy, with a soft scoop neckline and high-rise bottoms. Comfortable. Secure. Practical. And Bob was watching you like you were peeling the sun itself from the sky.

He sat propped against the pillows, his soft black t-shirt wrinkled, his bare legs still stretched out across the quilt. He didn’t speak at first–just blinked slowly, jaw slack, like he hadn’t quite recovered from waking up with you in his arms. But then he smiled. A slow, crooked thing.

“You look…” He started, then cleared his throat, his voice catching a little. “R-Really good in that.”

You slipped your coverup over your head–a breezy white linen thing that barely touched your thighs–and turned to face him with a raised brow.

“You mean I don’t look like a walking sunscreen ad?” You teased.

He shook his head, grinning. “Y-You look like a goddess…In a very modest disguise.”

You chuckled, padding over to the bed and grabbing your sunglasses. “Well, modest disguise or not… I was thinking,” You said, more seriously now, “Maybe we should tell them tonight…About us…” Bob’s smile softened.

“If you feel like that’s what you want to do,” He said gently, shifting to sit upright. “I’ll follow your lead…Whatever you want.”

You stepped closer, and he leaned up, brushing a kiss over your lips–slowly mirroring the softness of yours. Just enough to make your shoulders melt a little.

“B-But if you’re feeling off about it,” He murmured against your mouth, “We don’t have to. We can w-wait.” You sighed, resting your forehead against his for a beat.

“Well…There’s no point in keeping it a secret if Bucky already knows.” Bob nodded, fingers brushing lightly over your hip.

“Okay. So…We’ll tell them tonight. O-Or tomorrow. Whenever you want. Like I said.”

You gave him a small smile, kissed his cheek, and grabbed the sunscreen from the nightstand.

”This is why I love you so much.”

—————————

Outside, the beach was a sun-drenched haze.

The heat was intense–sharp and golden, radiating off the sand in visible waves. Everyone had already claimed their spots along the shore: Ava and Yelena were sprawled on towels like lizards, Walker was playing a vaguely competitive game of paddle ball with Alexei, and Bucky had parked himself under a battered umbrella with a book and a massive bottle of water.

You and Bob set up beneath a second umbrella, tucked in the shade where the breeze still managed to kiss your skin.

Bob flopped down beside you on the oversized beach towel, already tugging at the collar of his shirt. “T-The heat is already too much for me,” he muttered, sweeping his damp hair off his forehead. “A-Add the sun on top of it all though? It’s like I’m going to suffocate.”

You laughed, sipping from your bottle of water. “You literally have a sun god in you. I’m not surprised you haven’t gotten heat stroke yet.” He shook his head solemnly. “D-Don’t take it off the table. That might still happen.” You both laughed, your heads tilting together like magnets. After a few quiet moments of comfortable lounging, you stretched your legs out and let your head tip back.

“Hey,” You said casually, offering him the sunscreen. “Think you could do my back?” Bob took the bottle without hesitation, twisting the cap and squirting some into his palm before warming it between his hands. You pulled your coverup off slowly, letting it pool behind you, and turned so your back faced him. His hands were warm–steady as ever–as he spread the lotion across your shoulders, down the length of your spine in slow, tender strokes.

Then, as he leaned in to reach the small of your back, his breath ghosted over your ear.

“You know…” He murmured, his voice low and teasing, “If we weren’t out in public…I’d be making you moan into the sand right now.” You froze, eyes widening slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned just enough to glare over your shoulder.

“You can’t say that out here,” You hissed, cheeks flushing with warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. “You’re being a horn dog.” Bob smiled, slow and wicked, his hands still dangerously close to your hips.

“C-Can’t help it,” He whispered, secretly brushing his lips against your shoulder, a move that nobody noticed before pulling back like he didn’t just say something absolutely filthy, “You s-started it with the modest disguise.” You reached for the sunscreen and smacked him lightly in the chest with it.

“Keep it up,” you warned, “And I’m gonna make you wrestle Walker in the sand just to get all that energy out.” He grinned.

”I-It wouldn’t be the same as rolling around in it with you though…” You laughed again–loud and bright–and tucked yourself into his side as he pulled the umbrella down a little lower to block the worst of the glare. And for a moment, you just sat there–hidden in the shade, hidden in plain sight–wrapped in sunscreen and secrecy and a kind of love you both knew wouldn’t stay secret much longer.

———————

Dinner that night was loud.

The long driftwood table was crowded with mismatched chairs, benches, and half-sand-dusted Thunderbolts wearing tank tops and oversized hoodies. The sky outside had softened into a dusky lavender, and the kitchen was warm with the scent of grilled shrimp, charred corn, and garlic butter. Ava had taken the lead on the stove this time, refusing help and swatting away every wandering hand that got near her skillet. Alexei had uncorked a bottle of cheap white wine and was pouring it generously for everyone, and Walker was arguing over playlist control with Yelena, who had threatened to smash his phone with a meat tenderizer if he didn’t leave the music alone.

You sat beside Bob, as usual.

Close enough that your thighs brushed when you shifted. Close enough that your elbows bumped whenever you reached for the same thing. You waited until the table was full–until everyone had food and was midway through their first drink. Then you reached over, slid your hand into Bob’s under the table, and gave it a quick squeeze.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his fingers instinctively curling around yours, and you offered him a soft, steady nod.

He cleared his throat.

“I–um.” He glanced around the table. “S-Sorry to interrupt, I just–uh, w-we had something we wanted to tell you.”

The table quieted. Forks paused mid-air. Conversations slowed. All eyes slowly turned toward you both. You exhaled, heart thudding, and looked around the room.

“Bob and I are together,” You said simply. “Like…For real. And we have been…For a couple months now.” The silence lasted for a full beat.

Then—

“Thank God,” Ava groaned, tossing her napkin onto the table. “I thought I was going insane watching you two eye-fuck each other every day like nobody was noticing.”

“Finally!” Yelena barked, pointing a chip at you. “I said it three missions ago. I said, those two are absolutely sneaking off during recon debrief, and everyone thought I was being dramatic.”

“You are dramatic,” Walker muttered into his glass.

“But also right,” Bucky added, voice dry. “It was obvious.” Alexei beamed and reached across the table to smack Bob’s shoulder.

“You little sneaks…I respect dedication.” Bob flushed crimson from the ears down.

“Y-You guys are not…Mad?” He asked, looking around the table, voice tentative. Yelena rolled her eyes at him.

”Bob. Come on…You think we wouldn’t accept you dating someone who clearly loves the shit out of you?”

Walker pointed his fork at you. “Honestly, we’d have accepted it even if we had doubts. But we don’t. You’re good together. It’s obvious.”

You felt your chest tighten with sudden emotion. Bob’s hand was still wrapped around yours under the table, his thumb rubbing slow, nervous circles against your palm, but now…It felt steady. Reassured. Warm in a way that made your ribs ache.

“W-We just wanted to keep it between us until we were sure,” He said softly. “Until it felt…safe.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “We get that. But for the record? It was always safe.”

Yelena leaned in, smirking. “Okay but we need details now.”

“Oh my god,” You groaned, “Absolutely not.”

“Wait, wait–who made the first move?” Ava asked, chin propped on her hand like she was taking notes.

“I bet it was you,” Walker pointed his fork directly to you, “You seem like the type who would take the reins.” You rolled your eyes.

”It was actually a fairly mutual decision.” And everyone bursted out into an array of other questions.

——————

The bedroom door clicked softly shut behind you.

Outside, the house had finally settled into silence–punctuated only by distant waves and the creak of cooling floorboards. Inside, the room was wrapped in that velvety kind of darkness only a summer night could offer, lit just barely by the moon spilling through the open window, catching on the rumpled folds of the quilt and casting the softest glow across Bob’s bare chest.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing a t-shirt and boxers, with his legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. His fingers intertwined loosely between them. He glanced up as you entered, eyes soft, tired, and full of something that you were still processing. You padded over, barefoot and warm from the day, and settled beside him.

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just sat there in the quiet, breathing the same salt-laced air.

Then Bob exhaled slowly.

“T-That went…way better than I thought it would,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from wine and nerves.

You nodded, leaning your shoulder into his. “Told you.”

He gave a soft laugh–one of those short, breathless ones that still sounded like disbelief. His hand reached for yours, fingers curling around your knuckles.

“I-I’m still not used to people reacting like that…Like I’m not something they have to tiptoe around.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’re not a liability, Bob. You’re ours. And you’re mine. That means something to them.”

His lips parted slightly, like he didn’t have the right words.

“I’m serious,” You whispered, turning more fully toward him. “They saw how happy you are. And maybe…They saw how much I need you too.”

His throat bobbed. He blinked slowly.

“You make everything feel easier,” He said finally. “T-Talking. Existing. Being me.” His voice cracked just a little on that last word, and his eyes dropped to where your hands were still joined.

“Y-You’ve handled everything so well. Hiding us, balancing missions, b-being my anchor even when things get hard…” He glanced up again, his gaze glassy but steady. “I’m just…I can’t stop being a-amazed by you.” You leaned in and kissed him–soft and slow, your nose brushing his cheek.

“I love you Bob.” You whispered, against his lips, as he gently kissed yours.

”I love you too.” He replied, before kissing you again. It deepened before either of you could take another breath. It started soft–gentle and reverent, like the words that had just passed between you–but it didn’t stay that way.

Bob groaned against your mouth when you pushed him back gently by the shoulders, guiding him down until he was flat on his back against the cool quilt. His hands instinctively found your hips as you climbed over him, settling on his lap. Your thighs bracketed his, and the weight of you on top of him made his breath hitch, chest rising hard beneath his thin shirt.

“God,” He whispered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “Y-You look…”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. You kissed him again–wet, open-mouthed, and slow–licking into his mouth until he gasped. You swallowed the sound eagerly, rolling your hips just enough to make him groan. His fingers gripped your waist tighter, already trembling.

“I want to go down on you,” You murmured against his lips, voice low and teasing. His whole body jolted.

“Y-Yeah?” His voice broke like it couldn’t contain the need. “P-Please–I mean–y-you d-don’t have to but I–” He nodded too fast, already breathless, already desperate.

You smiled as you slid down his body, leaving a trail of kisses over his clothed chest, and his stomach, pausing just above the waistband of his boxers. You could feel how hard he was–thick and twitching beneath the fabric–and when you pulled the waistband down, he nearly whimpered.

He was flushed and already leaking.

”All this…From just a little kissing hmm?” You whispered, your voice thick with play, with hunger, with affection.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat as your hand wrapped around the base of him, slow and deliberate. You gave him one lazy stroke, then another, your thumb swiping over the bead of slick at the tip. He trembled beneath you–hips twitching slightly, fingers knotted in the quilt beside his thighs.

And when you leaned in and dragged your tongue up the underside of him again, he gasped–loud and sharp–his body tensing so hard you could feel the pulse hammering through him.

You wrapped your lips around the head, sealing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Bob choked on a moan.

“F-Fuck–oh my god–” His voice cracked, ragged and breathless.

You eased down slowly, taking more of him in, letting your tongue glide along every ridge and vein as your lips slipped lower. He was big–too big to take all at once without effort–and your jaw ached almost instantly, but you didn’t stop. You wanted this. You wanted to see him fall apart.

You bobbed your head with slow precision, using your hand to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach, slick and steady. The sounds he made–desperate, soft groans and whispered gasps–were the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. He was so sensitive, so responsive, his hips jerking up involuntarily every time you took him deeper.

One thrust caught you off guard–sharp, too sudden–and you gagged softly around him.

Bob froze.

“I-I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to–”

You moaned around him, eyes flicking up to his, and kept going.

The moment your throat relaxed and you pushed yourself lower, he completely lost it.

“F-Fuck, baby–oh god, please–” His hand came down, gripping your hair gently but tight enough to anchor him. His voice was wrecked, trembling with need. “D-Don’t stop–I’m s-so close–”

Your lips slid over him faster now, your mouth a mess of spit and warmth, your hand stroking him in rhythm as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. You could feel him twitching, his thighs tensing, his hips stuttering as he neared the edge.

“G-Gonna–oh fuck, I–” He cried out suddenly, loud and sharp as his hips jolted once, then again–

He came hard, deep down your throat, his whole body arching off the bed as you swallowed him greedily.

You didn’t pull away. You stayed there, lips sealed tight, swallowing every hot pulse of him as it spilled into your mouth. He was shaking beneath you–his thighs trembling, his fingers tangled in your hair, a broken litany of your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Only when he finally sagged back against the mattress, panting, did you ease off of him–your lips slick, your mouth swollen, and your eyes dark with want.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, then crawled back up his body–slow, deliberate, predatory.

Bob’s chest was still heaving when you kissed him.

The moment your mouth met his again, he groaned deep in his throat–like the taste of himself on your tongue shattered whatever composure he had left. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer, kissing you hard, deep, messy. Your lips crashed over each other, mouths open and slick, breathing each other in like you couldn’t get enough.

“F-Fuck,” He whispered against your mouth, still panting. “You’re…You’re u-unreal.” You kissed him again–slow this time, letting your tongue slide over his, letting the aftertaste of him linger between you as his hands moved up your sides. Your hips rolled instinctively against his, your shorts damp and clinging between your legs, your whole body strung tight with need.

Bob pulled back just enough to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips wet and swollen. “Y-You’re soaked,” He said, voice gone low and reverent as his hand slid down your side. “I didn’t even…D-Do anything..”

You smiled, almost smug, still straddling his lap. “Well,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his, “Maybe you should fix that.” That wrecked little breath he let out made your whole body thrum.

His hand slipped down, trailing over your waistband, fingers playing at the hem of your shorts. And then–slowly, teasingly–he dipped inside. You gasped at the contact, your hips jolting forward slightly. Bob groaned, head tipping back for a second as his fingers found you.

“Jesus Christ…” He muttered. “You’re dripping.” You bit your lip, breath catching as he stroked through your folds, spreading your arousal around on his fingers. “Y-You’re already m-making a mess…” You whimpered against his mouth, “But I know w-what to do to really make things even messier.” And with that, his fingers plunged inside you.

You gasped–a raw, breathless sound–arching hard into his hand as he filled you deep and fast. His fingers were thick and curled just right, stroking against that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

Your hips rolled down onto his hand, grinding against his palm.

“Th-That’s it,” He breathed, curling his fingers harder, faster. “There you go…You feel that?”

You nodded, breath shallow. “Bob–f-fuck–!” Your body clenched around his fingers as he pumped them fast, unrelenting, his palm dragging over your clit with each thrust. He leaned in and kissed you again, tongue deep and messy in your mouth as you moaned into him.

Then he pulled back just slightly, his breath brushing over your lips.

“I wanna see it,” He whispered. “Wanna see you fall apart for me. Right here. I want you to make a mess in these shorts.”

The words alone nearly made you come.

His fingers slammed into you faster, harder, his hand relentless, your shorts now completely soaked as the squelch of wetness grew louder–filthy and raw and so intimate in the silence of the room.

“I can feel you—Y/N, you’re s-so close, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes–yes!”

“C-Come for me, baby. Let go.”

And you did.

You cried out as your body convulsed, thighs trembling violently as you squirted into his hand, soaking your shorts and his wrist. Your vision went white around the edges, your breath punched out of your lungs, and Bob never stopped–working you through it, whispering praise the whole time.

“That’s it,” He gasped. “That’s my good g-girl–god, look at you.”

You collapsed forward against his chest, trembling, dizzy from the intensity.

But Bob–sweet, soft, ravenous Bob–pulled his fingers from your soaked shorts and stared at them for half a second, glistening and slick with you.

Then he licked them clean, keeping his eyes on you as he did it. Like he was entranced by the way you were breathing.

And his voice dropped lower.

“I need more.”

He laid you back against the bed before you could recover, tugging your shorts off in one smooth pull, your panties with them. You were still shaking when he dropped to his stomach and spread your legs with both hands.

He groaned at the sight of you.

“Messy little thing,” He murmured, and then he buried his face between your thighs.

His tongue was everywhere–lapping, sucking, tasting you with frenzied devotion. You were already oversensitive, your thighs twitching, your whole body squirming as he licked through the aftermath of your orgasm like a man starved.

He groaned into you, licking deeper, and you realized–

He was touching himself. You could tell by the rhythmic movements of his arm, matching the way his tongue moved against your clit.

“I-I can’t–I’m too sensitive–”

“You c-can,” he murmured, voice vibrating against your cunt. “You’re gonna come for me again. I-I can’t stop. Not when you taste this f-fucking good.”

He sucked hard, tongue circling your clit, and your hips shot up off the bed with a cry.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your body completely out of your control, twitching and writhing beneath him as he groaned and licked harder, dirtier, hungrier.

You sobbed his name as the second orgasm crashed over you–violent and wet, your body spasming as he licked you through it, relentless.

Even when you pushed at his shoulders weakly, begging for a pause, he didn’t stop until he’d wrung every drop from you and licked it from your skin.

When he finally lifted his head, his lips and chin were soaked with you. His hair was tousled, damp with sweat at the temples, and his eyes were completely blown-dark blue and glistening. like something unholy had just been fed and still wasn’t satisfied.

But when he looked at you–shaking, flushed, chest rising in uneven bursts–something softened.

Something melted.

He crawled up slowly, body moving over yours with a reverent kind of slowness, like he didn’t want to startle you. His hands slid under your back, easing you up into his lap until your legs curled around his waist again, your head tipping forward into the crook of his neck.

You were gasping. Trembling. Boneless.

And then–he kissed you.

Soft at first. Warm. Just his lips pressing into yours like he needed you more than breath.

But then you tasted yourself on him–sweet and raw–and something in you twitched.

You whimpered, and he smiled against your mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tongue licking softly into you, savoring you again in a whole new way.

You couldn’t help it–you started giggling.

It broke out of you mid-kiss, breathy and trembling, one of those dazed, overwhelmed sounds that bubbled up from somewhere so exhausted it had no filter.

Bob pulled back immediately, wide-eyed.

“Did I–? D-Did I hurt you?” He asked, instantly concerned, his hands coming up to frame your face.

You shook your head, still laughing, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “No–no, you didn’t, I just–Bob, I can’t feel my legs.”

He let out a startled breath, part laugh, part exhale of disbelief. “O-Oh,” He said, sounding sheepish. “I–I mean…Th-That’s kinda the goal, right?”

You laughed harder, still shaking.

He kissed your forehead, and then your jaw, and then your shoulder.

“I think you broke me,” You whispered dramatically, hands curled weakly into his shirt as your giggles faded into something sweeter–something more breathless and soft.

Bob tilted his head, grinning. “M-Maybe we’re even,” he whispered. “You nearly made me black out earlier. I-I think I forgot my own name for a minute.”

That made you laugh. Bob blushed–deeply–but smiled into your neck and nuzzled there. You felt his hands stroke lightly up your spine, slow and soothing now.

“You okay?” He asked, quieter this time.

You nodded against him. “Just… holy shit. That was a lot.”

He gave a quiet hum of agreement, resting his forehead to yours again.

Then, softly, “You taste like heaven. I-I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.” You bit back a whimper at that, one last full-body shiver rolling through you.

“I need a minute,” You mumbled, laughing into his skin. “Or a whole fucking hour.”

Bob chuckled. “Okay,” he murmured, laying back against the pillows and pulling you gently with him, cradling your body over his. “I-I’ll just hold y-you.” And he did.

You rested there, curled into the warmth of him, his hands smoothing gentle lines up your bare thighs, up your back, over your hair. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. His breath, soft against your temple. Bob’s fingers drew lazy, unhurried lines over you, tracing every dip, every curve like he was still mapping the miracle of you. Your head rose and fell with the rhythm of his chest. You could feel his heart–it had calmed, but not completely. Still a little fast. Still a little uneven from moments ago.

“So…” You murmured, your voice warm, sleepy, and just the slightest bit teasing. “Did you enjoy the weekend getaway?”

Bob gave a soft hum in response–one of those low, rumbly sounds that vibrated under your cheek. “C-Course I did…”

You tilted your head up slightly, just enough to glance at him. “Yeah?” You asked, voice still playful. “What was your favorite part?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he blinked up at the ceiling, lips parted, the moonlight casting shadows along his jaw. His hand stilled on your thigh.

And then–quietly, he said:

“B-Being around you the entire time…”His voice was thick with sincerity, soft like he didn’t trust it wouldn’t crack. “W-With no interruptions. No missions. No briefing rooms or restraints or… Or constantly w-wondering w-what could go wrong.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “It was just…A-All of us actually having some semblance of fun. For once.” You nodded slowly against his chest, your breath catching just a little as your eyes fluttered closed again.

“Yeah,” You agreed. “It felt like a different world for a second.”

He stroked your hair gently, fingers curling behind your ear. “I-I forgot what it was like to let loose like that, with no worries…” You lifted your head again, just enough to press a kiss over his heart. He stilled beneath you like it stopped time.

“You deserve that,” you whispered. “You deserve so much of that.”

Bob let out a shaky breath and curled both arms around you tighter.

“I d-didn’t think I’d ever have this,” he admitted, voice muffled against your hair. “Someone like you. A team that laughs more than they fight. A night where I d-don’t wake up from the dark things in my head…”

You lifted up, just barely, and reached to cup his face. His lashes were damp, the corners of his mouth pulled in that fragile way only you got to see.

“You’re not in the dark right now,” You whispered. “You’re here. With me. And no one’s going to take this from us.”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours, and leaned into your touch.

Then–soft, almost smiling–

“W-We’re gonna need another vacation after this, aren’t we?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. But next time, we’re packing before the morning of…And it’ll just be me and you.”

“D-Deal,” He whispered.

And then he tucked you close again, your bare legs tangled with his, your laughter still lingering in the air like sunlight, like the sea breeze drifting through the window.

[dollfacefantasy]

bucky barnes x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, boss/employee relationship a/n: i just watched brave new world so <3333 this is based on the request i am going to answer in a few moments.

1:30 pm, and a quick call to your desk. "sweetheart, could you come in here for a minute?" his voice crackled through the receiver. you knew what that meant.

not even five minutes later, he had you bent over the dark mahogany in his office, your pencil skirt hiked up around your hips, the pretty pink panties you'd worn for him pushed to the side so his cock could pump in and out of you with ease.

"fuck, mr. barnes," you whimpered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. your hands slid as they pressed down on scattered papers beneath them.

a chuckle came from behind you. his hands gave your hips a squeeze. you could feel the mechanical flex on your left side.

"what'd i tell you about calling me that?" he asked.

"that- mmm- that i should only do it at work, but- ah!" you tried to explain, cut off by his tip brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. gripping the edge of the desk, you steeled yourself to finish your sentence. "but, technically, we're still at work, sir."

you heard him hum in acknowledgement, and in your mind, you could all but see that cute little smirk on his face. the one reserved for you. even when you were just his secretary, you were still the only one who got to see it so freely.

"smart girl. i guess that is true," he said, completing his statement with a particularly hard thrust.

you squeaked at the impact, and your eyes rolled back. despite your own noise, you were just happy the desk wasn't budging an inch under his momentum.

"but since we're 'at work,' you also know that you're supposed to be quiet," he said, his voice much lower and much closer to your ear. you could feel the crisp fabric of his suit against your back. his tie feathered along your side, causing you to squirm back on him.

"i- i am," you stammered.

"yeah? you think this is quiet? quiet enough that if anybody walked by those doors, they wouldn't hear you whining for me?" he whispered.

words of defense didn't come to mind. instead, you gasped as he nuzzled into your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along your throat. your walls clamped around his length. you squeezed him, sucked him in with everything you had, your body wordlessly crying more, more, more.

"we wouldn't want any rumors going around, would we? people already talk about how cute my little secretary is, how she chases after me with stars in her eyes," he practically cooed. "they warn me about you, you know. i don't wanna get caught up in a scandal after all."

your knees almost give out beneath you, but being squished between him and the desk keeps you in place.

you knew what he was saying was true. people did talk about you and him. speculated if your relationship went beyond what was appropriate for a representative and his secretary. but fuck, you didn't care. not while sitting at your desk during the day or laying in his arms at night, and you certainly didn't care when he was fucking you like you'd been made just for him.

"they won't," you finally answered, words closer to a babble now. "they won't hear. only you can hear."

his lips curled into a smile against your skin. "that's right, baby. only me," he said with a soft peck to your cheek.

the moment of tenderness was brief though. his mechanical hand slid around to grasp your throat, giving him more leverage to drill into you.

at this point, you were right on the edge. he had settled into a rhythm that stroked you just right every time. your release was coming closer and closer every second.

you sucked in another ragged breath, unable to get the words out to articulate what you felt inside. but that was ok. he knew all your tells. he recognized the shaky legs and grabby hands and pulsing grip of your cunt.

his hand that wasn't on your neck wrapped around your body and snaked its way between your legs. the warm flesh of his fingertips swirled over your clit, rubbed back and forth in rapid stripes to give you the final push.

"i know, baby. i know it feels so good, and i know you're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. so cum for me," he murmured.

just in case, you covered your mouth with your palm. your body spasmed as you let release wash over you. to your surprise, you did remain quiet for the most part. only a few little sounds of ecstasy escaped your lips for your hand to muffle.

he groaned right into your ear, the noise quiet to the entire world except for you. it was only a matter of seconds before you felt the familiar burst of warmth and the uneven jolts of his hips against your backside.

once the two of you had both finished, you each took a few seconds to catch your breath. you couldn't take too long however because his lunch break was ending, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the both of you were doing a little more than going over briefings in here.

he eased out of you and then helped you clean up a bit. your panties fell back into place while your skirt unbunched to cover up your thighs again. you glanced in the mirror on the wall to make sure your makeup hadn't smudged. with a tug of your blazer, you were ready to go back out there.

"not even gonna give me a kiss before you go?" he asked.

that brought a little smile to your face. when you turned to him once again, he was put back together too. no remnants of you on his suit, all the buttons together again, every strand of his hair in place.

you leaned in for what was supposed to be a quick peck. but his arm looped around your waist and held you close for a few moments longer. your shy eyes connected with his when he finally let you pull away. he gave you a pat on the ass as you went to walk away.

"i'll see you after work, mr. barnes," you said with a little laugh.

[artficlly]

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary. 

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again. 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ For me?

‧✧̣̥̇‧ : Lads men when you give them what they were looking for.

No warnings for this post! Just posting something to hop back on tumblr, request me your ideas, I will do my best to write them all!

Ps I know this is bad but bear with me it’s been a year since I last wrote anything…

Part 1: sylus

⨯ ◞ Sylus

Sylus had been looking for a specific item, it was a protocore, one he had been looking for relentlessly, every wanderer he had hunted down or ordered someone to go after, lacked what he needed.

there was the noise again— you blinked up at the ceiling, sylus tripping over an open cabinet door at your apartment, if his biggest enemies couldn’t take him out, your bathroom would. “Too small and too tight, out for my blood” he complained.

He left you with no sleep that night, it wasn’t his fault really, nights were his morning and vice versa. you got out of bed and went to the living room, the room lit up with a notification buzzing from sylus’s phone, curiosity got the better of you and you leaned over, reading the message.

Unknown: “We didn’t find the protocore tonight either, sorry boss—“

Huh, how odd, you clicked on the message. There was a picture attached. that protocore’s shape looks like the one in the hands of the hunter association, you can attempt to get it. The idea of getting Sylus that protocore lingered in your mind, even as you yawned and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. It was the first time you had seen him chase after something, and as such seeing him frustrated was a rare thing.

— Wouldn’t it be interesting if you got to it first?

The Hunter Association was no joke, though. They weren’t the type to hand over rare artifacts just because you asked nicely. Still, you had your own ways of getting things.

Next evening at your shift, you went to look for captian Jenna

“Captain, excuse me! Protocore delta-6, I need it for the mission I’m going on, do I have the permission to borrow it?”

you suppose it did work, you had managed to borrow it, but still not safely secured as an owned possession. The second step of your plan was a bit more tricky, having to go to a field of wanderers and making the excuse of the protocore breaking in your bag.

…wincing as you walked back to your apartment, avoiding your neighbors, not wanting them to look at you while you resembled a wet homeless rat, muddy shoes and hair clinging to your forehead like a miserable pet being bathed.

Great, house was empty. No sylus in sight, tiptoeing to the bedroom you pulled out the gift box and sat on the ground, injury from the wanderer be damned, thinking about actually surprising sylus with something good gave you enough good spirit and motivation to wrap the gift up. As you placed the protocore on the plush bedding of the box, a shadow loomed behind you.

“Of all people…”

The voice sent a chill down your spine. You barely had time to react before Sylus was looming over you, his sharp gaze locked onto the protocore nestled in its plush box.

“Get out of my room!” You snapped, instinctively pulling the box closer, but it was useless. Sylus moved fast—too fast. Before you could blink, he was crouched in front of you, his fingers already curled around the edge of the box.

He didn’t take it, though. Not yet.

Instead, he studied you, eyes flicking over your disheveled state—the ripped sleeve, the way you shifted slightly to favor your injured side. His expression darkened.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, attempting to brush it off, but he wasn’t listening. His hand darted out, grabbing your wrist with controlled precision. You hissed as he pushed your sleeve back, revealing the fresh wound underneath.

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose. “You went into a Wanderer field.” That didn’t sound like a question.

You yanked your arm away. “It was for a good cause.”

His gaze flicked back to the box. “You stole that.”

“I borrowed it,” you corrected. “Technically… At first.”

For a long moment, he was silent. Then, in one smooth motion, he plucked the box from your grasp. You tensed, expecting him to scold you, but instead, Sylus just stared at the neatly wrapped gift, his fingers resting lightly on the edges as if he didn’t quite believe it was real.

“You did this for me?” His voice was quieter now, carrying something unreadable beneath the usual sharpness. Before his stupid handsome face returned to the usual smirk.

You shrugged. “I figured if you were gonna be obsessed over it, I might as well beat you to it.”

Something flickered in his expression— amusement, surprise, something softer you couldn’t place. He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “You are getting brave kitten, doing dirty work? should I hire you as my assistant then.”

“You’re welcome,” you huffed, shifting to stand up. “Now, if you’re done being dramatic, I’d like to clean up and—”

You barely made it to your feet before Sylus moved. before you could step away one hand caught your wrist again—gentler this time. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied you, eyes sharp and calculating. Then, before you could protest, he raised your hand and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip.

[rumplereids]

kiss, kiss, fall in love.

tags: spencer reid x reader. making out. clothed grinding. what glasses!spencer deserved. a/n: i love whenever the camera angle shows just how FUCKED mgg’s eyesight is lmfao there are some scenes of glasses!spencer where you can see how thick the lenses are… i love him requested?: yep ! thank u so much for the request <3 masterlist. requests are open !

Working as a Technical Analyst for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had its pros and cons. Having your own office was definitely a huge perk. He was only supposed to drop off your daily bagel and coffee. It was an act of service that your beloved boyfriend liked to indulge in. He was only here to make sure you’d eaten breakfast.

Like a ritual, he leans over your shoulder, your cheek turned toward him like second nature, as he gives you a soft, shy kiss.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs against your cheek, nose digging against your temple he breathes in the scent of you.

Without removing your eyes from your screen, you reach a hand up to give his cheek and jaw a loving caress. Curious fingers brush against plastic frames. You turn your attention to him in awe, “You’re wearing your glasses today!”

“Mhm,” he brings a finger up to fix his frames, almost bashful. “Ran out of contact solution.”

You take his face into your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I love your glasses. You look so handsome, so beautiful.” You grin at the way his cheeks redden.

“Gimme a kiss?”

He eagerly dives in for one. A hand moves to cup the back of your head, tender in his affections. He lavishes attention on your top lip, moans, and then moves his focus to your lower lip. His tongue shy in the heat of your mouth. Spencer lets out another little moan, the sound of his near whimper making you stand.

From cheek to shoulder, you rub your thumb on his skin. You push him down onto the chair, his legs parting on instinct to make place for you. Knees digging against his thigh and hips, you make yourself comfortable on your throne.

“You’re so pretty,” he says up to you. Spencer’s lips are swollen and red, glistening with spit. His eyes are watery and hazy, his glasses fogged from the breath shared between you. His big hands grip your hips so tight you’re sure he’d wrinkle the blouse you picked for the day.

You bend down for another kiss, pressing your hips down at Spencer’s plea. He guides your hips down against his lap, you feel the zipper of his slacks press against the heat of your core. You’re wet, the room is hot, and Spencer’s mouth and tongue move to nip and kiss and lick along your chin and jaw.

As you grind down against his growing bulge, Spencer’s hands move to untuck your blouse from your pants. Gentle hands and curious fingers move beneath the fabric to feel your heated skin against his palm.

A commotion outside your office makes you stop the grind of your hips.

Spencer turns his head to the left, parting his lips from yours, a string of spit keeping you connected. With your foreheads pressed against each other, you put an ear out to listen on the other side of the door. You think you hear the familiar clicks and clacks of Penelope’s heels.

“I think I need to go,” Spencer sounds disappointed. You press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Running your hands through his hair, you sigh. “Yeah, probably.”

He smiles up at you, eyes heavy-lidded in ecstasy, hands still caressing the skin of your hips.

He loves the feel of your hand in his hair. He loves the soft kiss you give the tip of his nose. He loves the way you fix his glasses, crooked and fogged up from the heat of your kisses. He loves you, and you love him. He feels it now as you smooth down the front of his button-up shirt.

You slowly stand from your place on his lap, fixing your pants that had ridden up and bunched at your thighs from your little session. You notice Spencer doing the same to his own.

He sniffs, standing, two fingers pushing his glasses more firmly up the bridge of his nose.

“One last kiss?”

You smile at his request, finger and thumb reaching forward to pinch his nose.

“You’re so cute.”

He taps his cheek twice in response.