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doeisagun · 1 month ago

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NEUTRALIZE every man in sight 💙💛 ( band au boblena x solo artist fem reader )

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wc: around 5300 words...

tags: SMUT (18+), reader has gender neutral language used for them aside from their genitals pre-established boblena/poly boblena, double penetration ( piv + strap in ass) so Probably unrealistic sex, masturbation, wet dreams/sexual fantasies about your (technical) bandmates (doggy, oral, voyeurism), (possible unhealthy relationship dynamic?), reader wears a dress and is detailed to have a pussy, oral (yel receiving, bob receiving from yel), you're in a weird sandwich position at some point, eavesdropping, beatles song title drop, alanis morisette song title drop, obligatory american pie scene, bob is a kisser and a drooler, yelena's a flirt, bob still kind of has powers?? happy bi pride or something idk this is super fast paced i just wanted to push this out lol

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you finish strumming your guitar, and a thunderous applause follows. heart throbbing with adoration, you bow your head, still sitting on the stool they provided for you. "(y/n) (l/n) on the today show, everyone!" the host clamors, and you can feel yourself smile wider than you've ever smiled in your life.

you finally feel like you've made it.

every bad youtube cover and high school pop concert solo was worth /this/, the lights and the people and the music..

your outreach was ever-expanding with your newest single's popularity, and even more so when you dropped your debut album — which gained you two noms for the pop categories, along with the big four, tied together with two complimentary invitations.

you decide to bring along your friend, who happened to be in the industry long before you, kate bishop: writer (and ghostwriter) of countless billboard top 10 hits at only age 24. she was more seasoned than you, without a doubt, but she was always willing to extend a hand if you needed it.

one of said hands included sending you your own personally tailored dress for your performance AND one for your red carpet walk. what the fuck!

you cried to her about how to repay her over face time, and she had the audacity to laugh at you! "i don't care, dude. i just want you to have fun. you gave me an invitation."

"but-" your eyes are wet with tears, and your bottom lip quivers.

"hush- you deserve it-" and she hangs up.

you do deserve it. don't you?

god, you hope so..

the grammys were magical. your body was buzzing with wine and vodka, adrenaline flowing through your veins

being that you won best new artist and album of the year, you had much to talk about to the paparazzi clamoring after your limo that would take you to the after party. you answered their questions with a bright zeal, ducking and dodging cameras while arm in arm with kate.

"so, y/n, how's it feel to pop out with six grammy noms and two wins with only one album out?"

your mouth runs, "awesome. its- crazy."

"who were your influences as a child?"

"what life events /inspired/ the choice for the single?"

"and what was your favorite act of the night? any standouts?"

your lips curl into a smile. "mmm.. fuck, uh.. the thunderbolts. fuckin' incredible. the yelena’s got this- this voice, and the drummer? woah. like, there's not a single member of that band that isn't crazy talented. i want a feature so damn bad--"

during your early career days, when you still had free time, you would lay down on your couch and watch those compilations of the thunderbolts’ being ‘random and funny’ that were obviously made by tweens with too much free time. that being said, those videos provided you with a comfort that you couldn't find in your crummy food service job or what family you retained after you moved.

you always had a draw to yelena, but it was mainly a casual interest. she was strictly out of the box of celebrity crush, because it felt.. off. you admired her. that was it. the drummer (bob..?) was.. cute. that’s where your interest for him ended.

kate laughs, and gently guides you into the limo, chattering "you'll get all that and more for vanity fair." you hiccup, and your brain's tipping over with blonde and brown. that smile of yours broadens. a video of your drunken escapades end up on tmz, and leapfrogs its way to–

four grammy wins for the thunderbolts equal about four rounds in the bedroom — well, that's the conclusion that bob and yelena had come to, anyway-

the blonde-haired woman rolls off of bob, both their bodies drenched in sweat. she picks one of his gummy worms from a bag on their bedside dresser drawer, and revels in the way his face scrunches up. such a brat, she thinks, as his eyes fade from a blazing gold down to his ocean blue.

his hand gently rubs over her middle, and he presses a tender kiss to the side of her breast. his voice comes out a gentle rumble, "..hear me out: johnny storm."

yelena looks appalled, "the fuckin- guitarist? oh, no, hard pass. did you see his suit during his acceptance speech?"

"it was.. creative! creative people are cute." bob raises up from the bed, walking over to their bathroom, "the buzzcut isn't bad."

"i don't know you anymore-"

he giggles, all high and wheezy, and it's enough to make her grin. so? she plays his game.

"dazzler?"

"cute." she unlocks her phone and scrolls the timeline.

"falcon?"

she purses her lips, "he's cute." yelena says without a second thought, and shrugs.

"cyclops?"

"the fucking- scott?? summers?? who does music with emma frost? instead of emma frost??"

silence. yelena frowns.

"i think i want to un-date you." yelena says as bob turns on the water for their bath.

"un-date?" the corner of his mouth drops.

"i don't like thinking about breaking up with you, it's depressing." she shrugs, and she flops back on the bed. "especially after that, Черт возьми-"

bob steps, back to the bed, head cocked to the side, "i'm guessing that means it was good?"

yelena snorts, "that means it was fucking amazing, solnyshko. did you lick pudding cups instead of using a spoon or something?"

bob laughs, covering his face. she beams at his happiness, "no! no, you're laughing, but i'm asking a serious question-"

her phone chimes, and they look down at the notif: "ava 👻: bro"

another one, "ava 👻: (y/n) mentioned us in a bloody interview?? the cute singer with the smile"

yelena brings the phone up to her face, her face twisting into a smirk, "so.. i have a new hear me out-” bob shuffles around to look over her shoulder, at the video where you're stumbling over yourself, all smiles and giggles.

a stark contrast to when bob caught you tucked off in a corner after your second acceptance speech, stuck out like a sore thumb, breathing hard and trembling. he brought you back to yourself, and you were more than grateful for it. you were briefly able to meet yelena, with her jade eyes and soft jaw, and the rest of the band before you were whisked away to the after party. as you chugged down glasses of wine, you remembered her touch on your bare shoulder, squeezing out some of the tension.

your name wraps around her lips, and bob's head rests on yelena's shoulder. he mumbles his answer into her ear. they go for another round in the shower, your name hung heavy in the steam.

they totally don't sneak out to the after party after valentina, their manager, has gone to sleep — and they totally don't make you an opener for their next tour as soon as they've got you cornered.

“you were our first pick.” yelena barters, and it makes you smile dumbly.

you don't agree. you totally don't agree.

touring life is weirdly comfortable.

you're comfy in your room on the tour bus, equipped with a bunch of snacks and a fluffy comforter. for most shows, you were allowed to stay back here and chill after your set was over with. obviously, you had developed a bit of a routine. you would stretch, do some vocal cool-downs, and then plop on your couch to watch something dumb to take your mind off the fact that you were gonna do this all again in two days.

fuck.

you’ve become extremely jaded with your growing popularity, though you still love your job, you’ve deleted most socials off your phone save for instagram. fandom, both good and bad, was a pain in your ass. you really weren't in the mood to deal with any type of bullshit about the way your tone shifted in an interview or how you worded things- not when you were living out your dream.

during a binge session of cooking videos from this little indie youtuber you were into, you realize that you don’t really feel like a person anymore. you feel like a product.

you sigh, popping open a bag of chips. tears bloom at your tear ducts. maybe an indefinite hiatus is in order-

your phone rings, and its “Yelena 💛”. you pick up a little too fast.

the sound of laughing meets your ears, and you can't help but feel a little worse than you did a second ago.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! me and- me and bob were planning to go by this twenty-four hour doughnut spot that’s around the corner-”

you put aside your bag of chips, “yeah?”

“they make all their stuff fresh, and we were wondering if you wanted to come-” she purrs, and your stomach stirs with.. something. bob cuts in, “more than okay if you don't want to either! n-no pressure- just, uh, wanted to make you feel more welcome on the tour.”

“it’ll be like a date.” you can hear her smile over the phone, feeling a throb in your- “sure!” you toss your chip bag in the trash, “i’ll be ready in five.”

they knock in five, then you three are off.

yelena and bob are constantly prodding you with questions on the way there, the night air cooling you three down.

the taller man leans down to tap your shoulder to meekly ask about who did the mixing on your debut album, and you answer him in kind. the small smile on his face after getting his answer warms your heart, as much as his deadly focused expression does when typing your audio engineer’s contact info into his notes app.

“sorry- that's two a’s? or is it an e-?” he blinks down at you, ears red with embarrassment. you laugh and supplement, “just the e.” and you cringe a bit at his “oh, okay, sorry-”

the shorter of the two pulls you by in the arm, and whispers into your ear “can i do background vocals for your next ep? single- album or whatever?” you stammer, and play with the skin on your earlobe, “i- yeah! yeah, sure, absolutely.” that feeling between your legs blossoms again, and suddenly her wolf cut gains 10x more appeal to you.

she smirks at you, hand snaking around your waist, voice dropping an octave “i really want to work with you, (l/n). it would be an honor, you know? working with the best new artist of this year. wonder what you could show me in the studio-”

a bell cuts off her tangent, and you look up to see bob holding the door open for you two. yelena breaks off from you, and walks through, kissing bob on the cheek with a small “thank you.”

acid bubbles deep in your stomach.

you walk through, not looking bob in the eye.

your order’s a blur, but you end up with your favorite flavor, all fluffy and soft between your lips. you don't catch yelena intently staring at your mouth while you eat because you’re trying to ignore how bob’s drooling over a jelly doughnut.

you three order an assorted triple-dozen for the band and tech crew, and you all carry a box. the couple banters and chatters on the walk home, with you being eerily quiet. yelena’s palm grazes the small of your back before you step back inside of your room on the tour bus.

you slip your index finger between your lips, sucking the sugar off. then, you stare at the wet digit. your eyes squeeze shut.

“..i think i need a shower.”

in said shower, your fingers can't help but travel down between your thighs.

fog fills your bathroom mirror.

you lean up against the tiled wall, two fingers plunging in and out of your hole, slick from the pour of the shower above you. it felt so good, but it wasn't enough- why didn't you just turn on some porn? what was wrong with you?

you couldn't stop thinking about yelena: about the way her fingers would taste on your tongue, fucking roughly in and out, carrying spit- you’d moan around the fingerprints, before she snatches them away from you and forces you on your knees. your fingers speed up, protruding yourself wider for nothing. absolutely nothing but the taste of her pussy on your tongue as you lap her up, hands placed on her thighs but not gripping (in case she wanted to slap them away), listening to her rough moans ring out against the walls of her room.

fuck, you haven't even seen her room yet either? god, you’re such a weird fucking pervert- you whimper, picruring her breasts trembling with every minstration you make inside her cunt. her hand twists in your hair as she barks at you to: “speed up. fucking go faster- i said, faster! oh- ahn-! good fuckin’ pet-! Хорошо для тебя, облизывая это вот так- you're doing so well-” and your cunt slobbers before your mouth does, your legs shaking. you nip and suck and kiss at her clit, taking in her growls, feeling her thick thighs clamp around your head.

your eyes roll back, your fingers pumping in and out at an unreasonable pace. you were so fucking close, you could almost taste her slick dripping down your chin as she squirts on your tongue. legs shaking, you scream into the crease of your elbow as you come.

your chest rises and falls. your legs shake.

fingers pulling out of your quivering hole, you can't think anything but: holy fuck. what the fuck.

you slide down the side of the shower and put your knees to your chest. of /course/, you have a crush on fucking yelena belova when she has a goddamn boyfriend- you should've known!

you make your way to the rehearsal room the next morning, earbuds blaring white noise.

this was manageable. all you had to do was just act normal for the rest of time, and then never tour with the thunderbolts ever again. your heart splinters in your chest at the sentiment. no.. there's got to be a better way-

BOOM! pow pow!

the sound of cymbals crashes out, along with an instrumental version of ‘you oughta know’ by alanis morisette blares from the room across from you. you stare from across the grass, at a bob who’s enjoying himself far too much.

he’s screlting the lyrics behind a (mostly) soundproof window, hitting every drum like they owe him money. you can't help but watch him. you can't help but smile.

the song ends, and he’s panting, a little drool pooling from the corner of his mouth. he gives an exhausted smile to the speaker, then the window. he waves, and you freeze. you don't even register that yelena’s slipped in beside you to get to the door, wrapping her surprisingly muscular arms around his broad shoulders. yelena with a sleeper build.. that was something to file away for later and tuck into your spank bank.

she presses a kiss to his beanie, and whispers something into his ear. he, then, looks up at you and gives you a.. slightly less than bombastic wave, coupled with a nervous smile which you aren't mad about at all. he mumbles a small, “hi (y/n).. sorry about the noise..” and you wave back, but don't give him a dignified response.

him and yelena chat, and you’re quickly making your way out the door.

thirty minutes to showtime, and you're shoving your hands into your panties in the bathroom of your new venue. you clasp a hand over your mouth as you palm yourself, feeling the wetness pool through your undergarments.

seeing bob covered in sweat this morning wasn't doing shit to you. not at all. you bite down on your hand to cover your moans, flashes of his big hands wrapping around his drumsticks melding into fantasies about him wrapping his palm around your neck, and how he would apologize while his hips roll up into yours.

triplets on the tom-toms, triplets on the snare, triplets on the hi-hats- you bet he’d fuck in triplets too, skin slapping and nuts clapping against your ass as he takes you on his drum throne. moaning into your ear like a man starved for your flesh, he’d rock into you until you have to grab onto his back for support.

your fingers speed up.

he looks so innocent, but that's probably just a front. you’ve seen yelena, there's no way that he's not getting lost in that at least once a week- pervertpervertpervert-

you picture bob taking her in doggy, and they're looking each other in the eyes. yelena’s back arches into his girth, and her mouth drops open. the taller of the two grunts, whining and spilling inside her like he’s inhuman. she moans, her voice tapering off into a growl as she sucks him in, snugly.

your head lolls on your shoulders, and you look down at your panties.

with ten minutes to spare, you change, and head to stage for sound check. yelena and walker wave at you from where they’re sitting on a large speaker.

your opener goes by in a blur.

you opt to watch them from the sidelines this time, sitting in a cheap chair in front of the pit. you smile and clap along to the thunderbolts’ set along with the audience, giving you a weird sense of deja vu. you didn't really factor in that it’d feel this strange on the other side now.

yelena pushes some hair (oh, are those new pink highlights??) out of her face, and puts the microphone to her lips, slightly out of breath. “so, we usually end the set with that song, and then you all go home-” the crowd groans in despair, to yelena’s glee, “i know, i know, we don't want to go either-”

walker chimes in with a quick, “yes we do.” and the audience gives him a roaring laugh. “okay.. we kind of want to go.. but! but. for this particular stop, i wanted to do a little cover of a don mclean song- i /know/, i’m old.” the audience chitters. yelena sighs, and chuckles bitterly. “i used to sing it with my family. that is the most you’re getting of my personal life- but.. it's my favorite song in the world even, so.. american pie. 2..3..”

you see her sniffle into her hand at the end when everyone's singing along, and you catch yourself crying too. she walks offstage before everyone else, and bob follows in kind. you duck out from your seat offstage, looking around before crossing around to the backstage area. she’d never looked like that before.

hearing her around the corner, you stop dead in your tracks.

“i’m good, bob, i promise. just.. yeah.”

“y-you ran-”

“i ran?”

“yeah.. everyone was worried about you. i-i’m worried about you.”

“i’m just having a-” you hear something, a kiss, maybe to her hair by the way its dampened? muffled. “weird day. really weird day. pulling nails. dad was being.. himself, because it's my birthday today.”

her birthday?

“do you still wanna do the- thing with (y/n) tonight..? if you're not up to it, i don't wanna ask. it's your day.”

your eyes widen.

“god, i hate that. don't say that.” a beat, “don't apologize either. you're okay.. i just need to blow off some steam.”

“want me to run you a bath with the fancy salts?” another kiss to the hair, and yelena’s tone softens exponentially, “yes, sweet boy.. but no bath bombs. makes my skin itchy.”

“gotcha, ‘lena.”

you turn around and bump into a frazzled john walker, who curses as you two knock against each other. “fuck, man-”

you scramble to apologize, but walker shrugs it off. “nah, man. it's cool.. what’re you doing heading this way anyway? the bus is, like, on the opposite side of the parking lot-”

“i’m looking for the bathroom.”

“..there's one up the hall down there-” he walks up a bit, around the corner, “look at those two lovebirds, huh?”

you chuckle nervously, “yeah..”

“i don't know why they don't think anyone knows. worst kept secret they’ve ever had.”

“yup, that's so weird..” your voice breaks, leading the man to look at you, eyes narrow. he hums in curiosity, rubbing his chin with his thumb.

“..you’re acting weird.”

“no, i’m not-”

“when i saw you — you were just standing here.. holy shit, you were eavesdropping, weren't you?”

your shoulders drop, and your face heats up. “NO! no, i don't- never, i wouldn't-”

it's your ringtone that plays, and you look at your phone screen. john rolls his eyes, muttering a small “better answer that.” before crossing the corner to leave you alone.

not only are you a pervert, you're also a creep.

buuut —

you still accept the invite to watch dumb cartoons with them in their room, though, sweating profusely as you do.

on your way back to the room, you’ve picked up yelena a necklace with a cute jade green guitar pick on the end of it. a stupidly impromptu gift, you think as you walk up the ramp to your room, she’s gonna hate it.

you're stepping out of the shower when a new notification pops up on your phone, from yelena “bring snacks. and something cute to wear. we want selfies 💛💙”

okay.. odd. you send back a green heart, which gets hearted by yelena.

you put on a two piece pajama set in your favorite colors, looking at yourself in your full-body mirror.

this was going to kill you.

tangled is playing on the tv, and the conversation has suddenly pivoted towards sexuality. yelena’s rubbing bob’s knee while waiting for your answer, and when you give it, she purses her lips. “that is valid. bob?”

“uh.. i like who i like. don't wanna label it.”

you and bob both stare at yelena, who puts her head on your shoulder. “oh.. well, as you’ve already noticed, (who hasn't) me and bob are acquainted-”

fuck! fuck fuck fuck fuck!

“but i’ve always been open to.. more. he has too.”

YES! fireworks light up behind your eyes.

bob chuckles deeply, and you feel your heart melt down between your ribs. yelena scans your face, and grabs your cheeks, “and if i’ve been misreading things, i very deeply apologize, but.. you want us too. don't you?” bob’s big ass hand runs up and down your arm, and you start to feel dizzy. “i-i’m sorry-?” yelena repeats herself slowly, like syrup, and you answer with a small, squeaky, “yes.”

a slick smile crosses her face, and your noses press together. “knew that was your answer. part your lips for me, baby.”

kissing yelena belova feels like minute 1:55 of i want you (she’s so heavy), all dark tones and floaty, fingers stringing over your back and holding onto you like a weight. guilt sits heavy in your gut, but it's quickly dissolved by the feel of your girl licking into your mouth like this.

you melt down into the couch cushions, and you can see bob turning the tv to their shared spotify in the corner of your eye. “nuh-uh, you focus on me.” she whispers, and your eyes flutter closed, your fingers laced lazily into her hair. swapping spit was good until your jaw started to hurt, and you whined into her mouth.

some low frequency blues rock blared through the room, and yelena pulls away, her lips plump and raw. her hair was so messy, and her body was already wet, not to mention the blooming wet spot between her thighs. she catches your eyes, “well? world’s your oyster.” and leans back on the lap of her boyfriend, grinning up at you.

your mouth waters, and your jaw starts to feel a lot better. the blonde haired girl reaches back and paws for bob’s sweatpants. his nose turns red and he pulls down his waistband, looking away from them both. yelena coos, reaching up to pat his cheek. “don't be shy. it’s just y/n. right?”

you look between them, “yeah.. y-yeah, its okay.”

bob bites down on his bottom lip, eerily quiet, before pulling back the elastic of his boxers. his cock springs free, and he’s.. kind of hung. your mouth is agape. the tip is kind of mushroomy, and the veins at the base lead up to his tummy, which is adorned with a small belly button piercing. he covers his face in embarrassment, chuckling nervously to himself. “oh, god-”

you’re still looking him up when a sigh is pulled from his lips, and you can't help but stare down at the culprit. yelena’s tongue has licked a fat strip up his base, as made apparent by her tongue being stuck to it, along with the precum that's already dripping down from his tip. she looks back at you with what’s almost a glare, “well? get to work?”

eating her pussy feels even better than how it did in your dream, her arousal mixing with the salty taste of sweat on your tongue. she groans around bob’s dick, and pops off to stroke him, making him make little “ah, ah, ah”’s at the back of his throat. yelena’s voice softens when she asks you: “are you.. okay with me being- fuck- mean? to you? or- do you want me to be- mmh- soft? gotta know- ah-”

you pop off of her and mumble, “the first one” against her inner thigh, before going back to reclaim your prize. she lets out a moan against bob again, sneering at you with a “good bitch- holy shit-” and her mouth’s right back on him, with bob wailing straight into the air. tears bloomed at his eyes, drool pooling down from his lips. “it's so good- it's really good- thank you- you're both so pretty- oh m-my god-” his voice hinges off toward the end, and pitches up with his second. “oh my god-”

you love the scream you pick up on when you slip a finger inside her, and curl it upwards, your tongue swirling circles on her rosebud of a clit. her mouth slips off of bob’s shaft to moan openly into the air, her thighs locking around your head. her boyfriend cradles her jaw, whispering soft affirmations to her as you bring her over the edge properly. “yeah.. they're doing so good for you. that's all we want to do. we want you to feel good..”

yelena sobs against his thick thigh, clutching onto it. she squirts all over your tongue, orgasm blooming within her. as she comes down fully, bob twitches against her face, a shameful expression on her face. you wipe your mouth and look up at him, before looking down at her. she pants, nudging you with her heel. “get on top of him.”

you watch her roll off the couch and get onto the floor, promptly crawling towards him. he looks petrified, but when you put a hand to his cheek, all of the tension that he had harbored within him previously held fell short. “you’re okay.” you murmur against his chest, sliding your pants down to your knees. his eyes go down to your crotch, and his eyes widen in splendor.

“you’re really pretty, (y/n)..” he rubs your rear with gentle hands, and you press back against them, “y’want my fingers, cherry?” head cradled into his shoulder, you nod and listen to him spit a glob onto his fingers. he shoves a finger into you, and immediately gets to work, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss.

“‘t’s okay- you're okay-” he pants against your mouth, face hot and body blossoming with redness at his throat. his eyes glow gold, but it's probably just the television screen or something.

“you're doin’ so well for us- do you want me in your pussy, and her strap in your ass? huh? would that be good for you?” you nod rapidly, thighs trembling. you can feel his large fingers stroke you in tandem with the kisses that he places on your temple. “my bunny:.” he slips his fingers out of you, kissing your whimper away.

bob looks over your shoulder, “there she is.. hi, sunshine.” he gently strokes your back. yelena meets his lips for a chaste kiss. she pulls off from him and gives a kiss to your earlobe, “you ready, (y/n)?”

the necklace. shit! your eyes widen. “in my pocket.” yelena and bob give each other eyes, and yelena’s lips twist in confusion. “i’ve already lubed myself up, if that's the issue..?”

“no!” your heart pitter patters against your chest, “no, uh- i have a .. necklace. i want you to wear it, yelena.”

bob’s jaw goes agape, and yelena pulls you back by the skin on your neck. “yeah?” she digs in your pocket like you had stolen the damn thing, snatching it out of your pocket. “you want me to wear this while i fuck you stupid?”

you whimper, nodding as you cling to bob’s torso. the blonde slaps your ass and shoves you forward into bob’s chest, barking at bob to lift your hips, and he immediately does so. “sorry, cherry..” bob whispers, “you can take it. know you can.”

he slowly sinks you down onto him, which results in you letting out a muffled moan against his skin. bob whimpers as he feels himself fill out around you, head going all empty. yelena moves to kiss your neck, slotting her legs between yours and bob’s. she clips the necklace around her shoulders.

a slap lands on your ass from yelena, and you start rocking on bob, getting about 3/4ths of the way down before you start to feel him in your stomach. bob babbles into his palm at the feel of you, your head stuck to his chest like a weight. yelena slips inside you, filling you right to the hilt.

the room fills up with a cacophony of moans and slapping, yelena’s hands gripping your ass in a vice — that's when you realize that she's fucking you into him, you tighten around bob and bite back a scream. you and bob are drooling onto one another as yelena growls into your ear, your hole clenching with every thrust.

“‘m clo-o-ose-” bob whines, his voice raw. yelena bites your shoulder, hips slamming into you faster. “then come. fucking come, the both of you. come on my cock- fill up their pussy- do it for me- it’s mine- give me what's mine-”

with a few more rough strokes, you come with a silent scream around bob’s cock, and he follows in kind. you breathe against one another. he pulls you up for a sweet kiss, stubble brushing against your cheek. your heart throbs. you feel yelena pop out of you, moaning lowly.

“(y/n)..” yelena breathes, rubbing your hip, “would you like to join us for a warm bath?”

“and, like.. a /movie/ movie.” bob chirps.

“and a /movie/, movie.”

you smile, melting into bob’s chest.

TRANSCRIPT (EXCERPT): VANITY FAIR INTERVIEW WITH (Y/N) (L/N)

VF: So, to start out, let's address those dating rumors.

(Y/N): Unprofessional. I like that.

VF: Thank you!

(Laughter.)

(Y/N): I think that me being the newest member of the Thunderbolts isn't a big deal. I think I deserve to like.. be a glorified groupie if i want to. It's comfortable.

VF: Glorified groupie!

(Y/N): Joking! I help! I do.. I think that I.. like who I like. If that's Yelena? Cool. If that's Bob? Awesome.

(Silence.)

(Y/N): ..Can we talk about the album now?

#bob reynolds x reader #yelena belova x reader #boblena x reader #thunderbolts x reader smut #bob reynolds x fem!reader #yelena belova x fem!reader #boblena x fem!reader #fuckin uhhh #bob reynolds smut #yelena belova smut

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doeisagun · 2 months ago

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🍳 ,, synecdoche (BOB R. x MASC/MALE READER)

prompt: reader has never seen bob in a tuxedo/ball gown before.

❤︎ • before a PR gala.. ;; fluff mainly, male reader, body worship(?) (bob receiving), you love each other very much, you both don't wanna go to this fuckass gala (!!!), suggestive*, reader is said to be an insomniac**, reverse comfort ?? technically. its 12am this is my first x reader fic it's unorganized, its messy but goddamn its bob reynolds x male reader because there's not enough of that. sorry if he's ooc ( implied yelena/kate or yelena/ava but it's vague so it can be all three) eyeliner bob.. im sleepy

community is playing on low volume with a dim picture effect in bob reynolds' room today.

you hum, cheek pressed against his chest. six hours before this stupid gala the team has to go to, he's got his lips pressed to the top of your head. everyone else can kiss your ASS — because you feel like heaven IS bob reynolds in a raglan shirt, fully and truly.

you never thought it could feel like this, really. secure. life felt like being thrown in a shredder, then blended and eventually thrown away because you weren't /right/. being forced to be a part of things with the thu-, sorry, new avengers* (working title, but isn't that jarring?) helped a bit, but between the bickering and eating dinner together — you couldn't help but still feel lost? in a morbid kind of way? floating through life without any sense of direction.

that is, until bob managed to give you some sort of initiative.

not in an unhealthy way, or anything.. you just liked seeing him when coming home from missions. you loved the little crease in his eyes whenever yelena and ava would make him bust a gut laughing, to walker's dismay (it was all in good fun). you loved how big his hands looked whenever he curled them around the weights in the training room. you loved catching him on late-nights during mean bouts of insomnia, and inviting him back to your room to talk about whatever was on your minds — oh my god, his mind! you loved his mind, no matter how offbeat he found the sentiment.

his taste in music was so eclectic ("shiiit dude, you- adrianne lenker?" "yeah- yeahyeahyeah!") and listening to him talk was even better. your smile was wider than you ever thought you could manage when he would call you from wherever you were discharged to and whisper the sweetest things. you could manage life, you think, with him around. he was your best friend.

you can feel him.

fuck the ball- gala-? whatever.

___

five hours left

your phone vibrates, and you crane your neck to look over at it.

[ NEW AVENGERS* (+5 new messages) ]

and below it was:

[ lenaaa: got some suits for u and b ]

you smile, another text follows a second after.

[ lenaaa: the boss was huff puff about u not being able to try them at the store, but i handled it 🧘]

your lips purse.

[ lenaaa: brunch date with u know who. busy, cant talk check ur door ]

you sigh, looking back at bob, who was out like a light. his arms were curled around himself and his cheek was smushed against the pillow, chest softly rising and falling beneath the soft fabric knighting his chest.

thank the sun for him.

you peel off of your boy, frowning at his soft whine when you do. feet make their way to his door, and you pick up a hefty bag.

you hear shifting behind you, and a deep, rumbling "whas'sat..?"

"clothes for the thing." you look up at him to catch the look of confusion on his face, "the gala."

"gala- /gala/." his mouth hangs a little, and he rubs his eyes. you bring yourself and the bag up onto his bed, watching the way he wets his lips with life.

"the gala, yes." you take some of the pieces out: a cravat, a tie, cufflinks, brooches — the actual suits come last, and they're.. something. the one that's meant for bob is a simple plain-colored mustard yellow tuxedo with black undertones, a tiny sunflower for the brooch, and matching dress pants. you tentatively hold it up for him, and his eyes flitter from the suit to the television.

"oh come on, bobbie, it's not that bad.." you set the suit down in your lap, frowning sympathetically. "i know it's not the suit."

"you- no?" his voice is small,

"no.." you purse your lips. "i don't want to go either." you reassure him, thumbing his arm gently. he rubs over his thighs, "but!"

"but- but? but what?" he tilts his head slightly.

"you'll have me," you gently take his hands, "the whole time." he melts, his irises growing ten sizes when he catches yours. "that's one plus?"

"yeah." he chuckles, soft and airy, "you're full of them." you fight off a smile.

"so you'll be fine. if you aren't, we've got the team on speed-dial. don't feel bad for prioritizing yourself, okay? i want you to. we all do." your thumbs stroke his palms, and pink pinches his cheeks, a minuscule "o-okay. okay." breaking out from his lips before he leans in to peck yours gently.

the feel of your lips making contact was electric, absolutely unparalleled to any sensation you had experienced before now (that's a lie, this was third to being wrapped up in his arms and feeling him kiss up your thighs, your tummy, toward your pecs-), but he's pulling away and stroking the sides of your face. his eyes look so warm.

"same goes for you. always." he whispers, even though you're both alone together, his voice lilting into a crack. "wait.. wait. you're so.. handsome." bob breathes, nearly panting, tracing your jaw like he can't believe it. you watch his eyes fill with stars, "fuck- god. wow. i-i'm really- glad that i get to love you." he laughs again and you kiss again and it feels like an eternity before you pull away, kissing again his cheek for good measure. you lean over and check your phone.

four hours and thirty minutes.

you lean back over to him, grinning mischievously. "pluuus.. i don't think i've ever seen you in a suit before." your index fingers climb up his chest like a ladder, he looks at you incredulously and his cheeks spread pink. "don't wanna miss that."

"you've seen me in my birthday suit." he mumbles, and you spread your hand out on his chest, whistling. "that i have," you then, look into his eyes. "and as much as i do want to see you in that /again/, i think i want to have lunch here, with you and not there. being bored makes me not want to eat, you know?"

"you're- you're right." he shrugs, looking down at the suit. "..shower. got to shower." bob says more to himself than you, picking up the ensemble and standing up.

he thumbs over the brooch, and you lean down to kiss his lower back. bob turns back to look at you. you wink up at him, your voice husky when you add that it's "for good luck."

the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip and his eyes go lidded is absolutely delectable.

you can manage to put a few minutes aside to satiate your hunger, you decide.

three hours.

you and bob are fully dressed, and have your hands over your eyes. your boyfriend was mildly confused, but obliged when you asked him to make the "suit thing" a surprise, because he liked how excited you sounded.

not to say that he wasn't sweating out of his balls. he was, but he managed to cover over it with this floral, gentle scent of jasmine-scented cologne that rushed over you in waves — along with heaps of deodorant, spray-on and stick.

"oh.. oh! handsome, is that you-?" you don't move your hands, but your nose flares something serious.

"..yeah." he says bashfully. "i can't, uhm- see you, but i think you look super hot. like- mcdreamy hot."

you chuckle, hands twitching from your eyes to cover your mouth and catch your laugh when he adds: "/sweltering/." in a deeper than usual voice. you nearly squeal at the sight of him, and he frowns beneath his hands at the sound of it.

he says your name. you don't respond. his hands fall, and that's when he sees you — in a purple blazer that sits just right on your figure, with these striking black dress pants that bloom out around the bottom of the legs. your brooch is a lilac, pinned nicely to your right breast, and your cufflinks are dotted with glittering black rhodium.

his throat goes tight. you swallow when you see how his tux hugs his figure, his shoulders, how his hands clench beneath the sleeves. in the light you can tell that he's got a bit of makeup on, but it's extremely subtle, aside from his eye-line: it's gold.

"fuck.." you breathe.

you get up and walk to him, curling a hand around his waist. your hand comes to cup his cheek, "what's that?"

he has the audacity to look down. he looks ashamed, his voice wavering already. "i-..i wanted to try something new. i thought you'd like it- so-"

your tongue plunges into his mouth, and he's immediately falling into the kitchen sink next to him. he holds you up by the face and kisses you back messily. this was coordinated. as much as you hated to admit it, you already knew how this was going to go. your lips move against each other's, and he moves to sit on the counter. his lips were so plump when you pulled away.

two hours.

"last time! that's the last time today we make out-" you and bob are making sandwiches, getting crumbs all over your nice suits and everything. domesticity sounded nice when it was with him.

his nose scrunches as he giggles into his cup, sipping at the cola he poured. "i think we should keep making out, actually? way better than going to that gala."

"true," you start, and he grins, "but this is a team thing."

his smile drops, and you link an arm around his.

"we've got this." the link tightens, "with you the whole time."

"with you the whole time."

he fizzles up into elation after you kiss again.

ten seconds.

you stand behind your team, holding hands with him. his eyes glance over to you, and they're met with your warmth – guidance.

one second.

you step inside.

#bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x male reader #sentry x male reader #bob reynolds x male reader #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts #hate when people tag irrelevant characters for reach. y'all will get what you came here for

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