#and no you don't get to keep the bowls

[too-hot-to-hoot]

You've decided to visit the magical ice cream shop down the street. Which flavor do you pick?

Eye of the Desert: Sparkling golden ice cream with the texture of fine powdery sand, served in a beautifully filagreed silver tureen studded with emeralds. If you look closely, you can see swirls of "sand" rising above the sunlit dunes. It tastes mildly sweet and slightly pepper with an undertone of exotic flowers and fresh fruit. At the bottom of the bowl is a single azure stone the color of a cloudless sky. Every time you ask it a simple yes or no question, it flickers: bright gold for yes, black for no, white/gray for unsure. It is never wrong. After the sun sets, it crumbles to dust.

Sweet Schadenfreude. Fluffy vanilla bean ice cream as soft as a cloud, served in a fine crystal bowl in the shape of a heart. The ice cream is drizzled with dark, decadent honey in which tiny red crystals are suspended. The vanilla tastes normal, but the honey is FIREY HOT. Like, ghost pepper hot. It's almost painful to eat (depending on your spice tolerance) even with the ice cream, but if you finish it, you may whisper the name of the person you hate the most into the empty crystal. They will be stung by a swarm of magical crystal bees.

Flowers' Friend. Served in a small wooden pail, the ice cream on top is bright green, smells and tastes like dandelion heads, and makes birdlike chirps every time you scoop up a spoonful. The bottom is spongey browny bites that feel like sunwarmed earth. Little candy flowers are sprinkled on top, and they turn their heads in the direction of the sun. After you've finished eating, a hedgehog follows you around all day, giving you little gifts from the forest like acorns and mushrooms.

Snow Moon. Served in a glossy black cup made from volcanic glass, the ice cream is deathly cold, so cold you shiver just being near it. Its texture is slippery and flows like mercury, but the ice cream itself is oddly heavy, as if you could feel the immense weight of a black hole on the tip of your spoon. It's so shiny and reflective it would almost be blinding in full sun, but even in the darkness it glimmers coldly like the light of distant stars. It tastes like blackberries in milk. Eating it grants you the ability to travel through mirrors for the next 24 hours.

The Artist's Delight. This ice cream is served in an antique china tea cup. Written on the side is the signature of your favorite arist or writer. The pink, violet, and turquose ice cream is buttery soft with a matte finish, making it look more like paint pigments than food. It has the pattern of a butterfly's wing that always maintains its crisp black outlines no matter how much you eat. It tastes like rosewater or dark chocolate and orange rind, depending on your mood. If you eat it, the next time you sit down to create, a butterfly will whisper in your ear, giving you the most amazing and fantastical ideas for art and stories you've ever heard.

The Dark Embrace. This ice cream is served out of the brainpan of an edible human skull made out of dark chocolate and dusted with a a strange, silvery pigment. The ice cream is blood red and viscous but carries a surprisingly pleasant warm, spicy-sweet scent. It tastes like raspberry cheesecake, and you can see dark, sinister shapes cavorting about in the dripping red confection, like misshapen skeletons and dancing devils with black wings. if you listen closely you can almost hear an eerie melody playing...

What does it do? You'll just have to eat and find out!

[canisalbus]

Front facing Machete be like:

It just isn't his best angle.

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[xoxoemynn]

Feeding Daphne is so easy! I just have to grind up and combine all her supplements in a bowl and have two spoons (a large one and a baby one) at the ready, wait 30ish minutes so she's not suspicious, wait until she's seated in a good, easy to approach spot, sneak into the kitchen, quickly and quietly grab her food from the fridge, use the big spoon to scoop her food on top of her supplements, and then very casually approach her with the bowl and the baby spoon! From there I just have to spoon feed her with the teeeeeeeniest tiiiiiiiiiiniest bites because she's just a baby and has delicate sensibilities. Usually after about 15 minutes she remembers she likes the food and will take bigger bites! And if she keeps spitting out that one capsule, it's okay! I just have to keep trying, and if it gets too difficult I can smoosh that too. Super easy to do that with a tiny rolly capsule and a little baby plastic spoon.

idk why I ever complained.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

So the previous roommates having rocks for brains has worked out in my favor as I sift through the items they didn't bother to take with them

[terrorbirb]

:((((((((( boss didn't buy me lunch like they normally do on people's last day. Commence absolute minimal effort to finish out this job.

[genderfluid-druid]

on the one hand i never want to live with another person ever again but on the other hand the weather got cold and i pulled out my heavy blankets and the bed is so COMFY and it is absolutely CRIMINAL that not a soul in this vast world is sharing it with me 😤

[littleapocalypsekitten]

I repeat: I absolutely defend the art of self-distraction and enjoying frivolous things in times of crisis. Yes, even if "other people do not get to." Me or you suffering a mental breakdown isn't exactly going to be of help to people in war zones. In fact, I dare say, if you want to be fresh for the latest protest or to write or call your asshole congresscritters again or to do anything else to actually try to *help* - you need to be in good enough mental shape to do so. Sometimes (most times) that means distracting yourself from the horrors for a hot second so you don't overload. There is a point where the obsession with "Awareness" turns into "Here, in your face all the time until you develop compassion-fatigue and a doomer attitude." We cannot "first solve all of the world's problems" before we get to enjoy anything. If we worked that that, Humanity wouldn't enjoy anything, ever. The world is always ending - for someone. Crises never end. Sometimes you HAVE to drink your coffee and say "this is fine." Maybe the coffee perks you up enough to help you reach for the fire extinguisher (you forgot where you left it).

[gender-euphowrya]

btw you know those pet food bowls with like... bumps in them to prevent your pet from overeating because they can't just grab huge mouthfuls all at once

my cat had one for her dry food and she picked up the habit of fishing out her kibble pieces one by one with her paw except now we're using a regular bowl but she still does this

[butchdomesticwhore]

why is it so hard to recognize that all this info about bills and such is something you can acquire via googling and making phone calls to people who work in these departments and--yes!--asking them questions on what your best next step is? how does making this about systemic oppression help you or anyone else complete practical, adult tasks? when you point at a paper bill from a medical institution and declare it fundamentally classist, does the bill magically crumple into the dust, the issue dealt with and over because you aptly named the systemic issue at play? no!

do you get angry at mechanics when they tell you they have an idea regarding how your car could be fixed, also? how does that help you? what have you learned from deciding to be angry as opposed to using the information dealt to you? perhaps you should not be told by cashiers either about when the sales happen or how items are put on clearance lest their Insider Knowledge tell you something you don't know and--gasp--come from a place of privilege.

the point of my info and OP's is practical use. "if you have this problem, [x] might solve it." privilege or no, how the info is acquired doesn't matter as much as whether or not it's accurate and helps people. and despite your daftness, i very much hope any of this info helps YOU. or if not you, then someone you know. or someone completely random, i don't give a damn.

Ok so my kid had an ear infection, right? As kids often do.

The doctor scraped out a bit of earwax to have a better look inside.

I was sent a bill for $200 PER EAR for this 5 second procedure which I did not give permission for them to do.

That was key- they did not ASK me if they could do this "procedure". And, as I OWN a medical practice (it's me. The medical practice is me, sitting in my house on video calls) I knew to call them when this bill came in to be like "You did not obtain informed consent for this procedure, and it was not en emergency procedure. You had full ability to gain my consent and didn't. I'm not paying."

And the massive hospital who owned the bill said "yuh-huh you do have to pay."

And I said "I own a practice. I know these laws. I do not owe you money for this."

And they conducted an "internal review" and SURPRISE! Decided I totally owed them money and they had never done anything wrong ever.

And so I called my state's Attorney General office, and explained the situation because, as I mentioned, I know the law. The AG got in touch within a couple days to say they were taking the case and would send the massive hospital conglomerate a knock it off, guys letter.

Lo and Behold, today I have a letter where said hospital graciously has agreed to forfeit the payment.

"How not to get screwed over by companies" should be part of civics class.

Know your rights and know who to call when they're infringed on. This whole process cost me $0 and honestly less effort than I would have expected.

May this knowledge find its way to someone else who can use it.

[kittlyns]

It's always a little surreal for me when a parent commends me on being good or patient with their child cuz I'm quickly reminded that they have no idea the only group of people I'm truly comfortable around are kids

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Unhinged Feral Boyfriends

The whole Batfam is under the assumption that Damian is the feral child. The assassin, the wild one, the demon brat that bites and stabs. Jason usually takes the second place, what with guns, heads in the duffelbag, and being a crime lord.

But Tim? Come on, even Duke is more feral than him. Tim is a nerd, and he keeps to his own devices most of the time, and, sure, sometimes he is plenty unhinged. But he's okay. Seventh place on the unofficial List of Feral Bats.

He's got a boyfriend lately, have you heard? Tim hadn't brought him to the manor for dinner yet, but each and every Bat and Bird have already seen the guy - in person or through the surveillance cameras or background checks, doesn't matter. Either way, Daniel Fenton is quite literally a ray of sunshine.

They look very cute together.

That is, until one day, they witness Danny and Tim rip Joker's ribcage out of his chest.

Nothing could have prepared them for it. It was just another patrol, just another night of fighting crime, nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, Joker was on the loose, but so far, no one has tracked the Clown down or seen any of his goons.

But then, Red Robin's tracker went offline. The Bats started searching for him immediately - his last recorded location, his trackers, his route, everything. But when they managed to find him...

Well.

They didn't only find him in that warehouse.

They found Joker, choking on the ground and clawing at his own neck, like trying to force some air inside his lungs. Over him, Danny was squatting on the ground, his eyes thoughtful and not worried in the slightest, tapping on his chin. And, just a step behind him, Red Robin is holding a fucking ribcage in his hands, studying it with calm curiosity.

"Should we put it back now?" Tim asks, relaxed and easy, like they are speaking about whether they should or should not get another box of cereal in a store.

Danny shrugs, "I mean, if you want to. It's not like he's gonna die in the next ten or so minutes, you've got time."

And then, as Batman makes the slightest of noises, Danny's head snaps to him, and the boy smiles, cheerful and bright. Like the ray of sunshine he is.

"Hi, Bats!" Then he blinks and looks down to Joker, who is already frothing at the mouth, "Oh, don't worry about him, he won't die. Red's just putting a tracker in his manibrium."

"I figured it'd be easier to find him next time if he can't get the tracker out," Tim nods, unbothered, as he is tinkering with the ribcage in his hands before passing it back to Danny, "Okay, done. Put it back."

Danny takes the ribcage and presses it to Joker's chest. And, before they know it, the bones sink inside the man, like a hand in a bowl of sand.

Danny wipes his hands on his jeans and stands. Tim smiles at the Bats, none of whom know what to say and where to start.

The next day, Joker is back at Arkham with a tracker in his sternum, Danny is invited to dinner in the manor, and Tim takes the first place of the Feral List, with a note 'never leave unattended when Danny is nearby'.

[loveanddeepdick]

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ hi angel!

obsesssed!perv!geto x f!reader || suguru keeps jacking off to you! stop it sugu!

here is a link to my obsessed!geto masterlist this fic is crazy btw pls click off if u get uncomfy

cw and notes: LOWK WRITTEN NASTYILY AND HORNYBRAINED, im gonna be honest its a mess of all the shit i like, kinda gross geto lol, groping, sir kink, dom/sub coded, obsession, unhealthy behavior, dubcon touchin, nudes, indecent exposure but in the comfort of your own home, piv sex, nipple play, creampie, teasing, masturbation, multiple rounds, posessiveness, this is a little insane of me but per the request of deepdick citizens i as your mayor will deliver, not proofead lol

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto suguru has no shame.

from the moment you met him until now, he always says everything and anything on his mind. when he first asked you out, he pulled you aside, gripping your shoulder as he bluntly confessed to you.

"we'll have dinner tomorrow. 8pm at nobu," he smiled before patting your shoulder and walking away. you damn near got whiplash as you swiveled your head around, speechless as he just nonchalantly walked off.

but if you thought he spoke his mind without any repercussions, you should've seen what he did to the coworker who was harassing you. he's heard about her during one of your stories about work, crazy customers, unhinged coworkers, careless higher-ups.

she was long gone the day you returned to work.

in a way, he loved that you didn't mind his straightforward behavior , that you appreciated how transparent he was. but with that also came with your nympho boyfriend jacking off anywhere and everywhere in your shared apartment. he walks around with his dick out for fucks sake, and today, you swore he was on some aphrodisiac.

9:14am. friday morning.

you were cooking up breakfast in your shared kitchen, humming as you sipped from your mug. you heard the heavy creaking of suguru's feet on the wooden floor approaching as he yawned. he was inhumanly tall, lanky and skinny yet toned whenever he stretched.

he groaned scratched his stomach underneath his black tank, lifting it up to reveal his dark happy trail.

"morning, baby," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your neck as he leaned down, pressing his chest to your back as he inhaled your scent.

"brush your teeth, su-" you paused as he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, behind you ears, and the top of your head. you silently cursed, feeling something hard growing against your back. "again, suguru?".

you lightly pushed his head back before he whined and buried his nose in your hair again, inhaling deeplty.

"you smell so good, angel," he was nearly whimpering, his cock growing harder, "please, baby, just let me have my morning fill,"

you bit your cheek to keep a poker face, grabbing bowls for you and suguru before bending over the counter

"help yourself," you playfully sighed before grabbing the pans and plating the food. he grinned, giving you kisses in your hair before pulling your pajamas and panties down, taking his cock out to jack off to your ass. "make it quick, suguru,"

"fuucck, youre so hot, just keep.. keep doing what you were doing," he spat into fist before fucking his dick into it.

"you're such a pervert, suguru," you mumbled, bending over a little more to give him a better view.

"keep calling me that, turns me on," there was hearts in his eyes, watching your cute pajama pants scrunched around your knees as your pussy and little asshole was twitching and puckering just for him.

like clockwork, he squirted white ropes, coating your pussy as it dripped down onto your panties. he kneeled down, pulling your panties up to your cum soaked pussy before he brought a finger up to run it against the crotch area, poking around at his sealed cum against your hole.

"so gross," you rolled your eyes.

"yeah? but you stand there, you take it, and you love it, don't you?" he chuckled, pressing his nose in to inhale as you yelp, making you bend over just a little better as he sniffed in the nasty mix.

with a kiss to your clothed pussy, he pulled your pajamas back up, getting back to his feet with a gentle smack to your ass.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

11:52pm, friday afternoon

you get a text during your lunch break from suguru. what could he need this time? well, you had an idea.

>'hi, angel im otw with some lunch for you'

>'doing what i asked you to, aren't you?'

you hid your blush even though you were alone in your office. there, under your tight skirt and white cotton panties, was suguru's load was pressed wetunder your panties, your thighs squeezing together and keeping the cum warm.

<mhm im in my office

>[video attatchment]

you opened the video with low volume. he was in his car, holding a polaroid of you. he's in the parking garage of the apartment complex with his zipper down, his cock pink and standing tall. the video is only a minute long as he jacks off to your picture, his cock tip nearly touching your face on the polaroid before he cums, covering the entire thing.

what a nasty man.

you hear a knock on your door before he comes in, your thighs instinctively trying to hide your arousal from his teasing words. you place your phone on your desk as he approaches, chuckling at the sight of your not-so-well hidden flustered face.

"what's wrong, angel?" he mocked, grinning before he stood before you, his pointer finger lightly stroking your jaw as you peered up at his form.

his tall, dark form is almost eerie as he leaned down a little to look at you. he had hurricanes in his eyes as they bore into yours before trailing down a bit to your cleavage poking out from your white button-up. what a pervert. even then, it was like peering into heaven after centuries damned in hell.

your arms drift up and around his waist before you embrace his toned figure, your cheek pushed into his sweater.

"my eyes aren't as low as where you're looking, you creep,"

"just means i can focus on two things at once, huh?"

you playfully slap him before he grabs your wrist, pulling you up from your chair and pinning your against your desk, your chest against his ribcage as he peers down upon you.

"missed you so much," he breathed out before his eyes trailed down, his hands coming up to trace your figure, his hands stopping to cup your tits through your clothes as you squirmed and closed your legs, "keep them open,"

his knee came in between your legs, parting them and leaving you. vulnerable to him.

"you been a good girl today, hm?" he chuckled, giving your tits a squeeze before one of his hands travelled down to your skirt, lifting it up to reveal your nearly see-through panties squished up on his leg.

"yes, sir.." you the inside of your cheek to bite back a moan as he began slighly moving his leg up and down.

he guided you to sit on the desk as he knelt, lifting your skirt as he looked at your panties with hearts in his eyes. you leaned back a bit so he could take them off. his fingers hooked both sides of your panties as he slowly peeled.

"ffuuckkk, angel," he hissed as the mixture of his cum and your arousal strung to your pussy as he pulled down your panties, the crotch area gooey and smearing the sticky substance all over your pussy.

you whined as he licked a hard stripe from your perineum to your clit, giving it a loud suck before leaning back, showing you the nasty mix on his tongue before swallowing it with a shit eating grin.

"gross perv- ah, fuck!" you couldn't even finish your sentence before his head dove in between your legs again, lapping at your pussy as he flicked it with his tongue and shoved his face deep between your thighs, using his hands to push them together and trap his face.

"suuguuu..." you whined as you grinded on his face

"use my face, baby, y'taste so fucking good, nobody knows this sloppy pussy like i fuckin' do," he pulled off your clit with a slurp before spitting on it, "say it. say i know this pussy the best,"

"y-you know this pussy the best, sir!" you gripped his long silky hair before your heart dropped into your pussy, "w-wait sir, something c-coming!"

"just let it happen, angel, let go for me, it's gonna feel good i promise," he groaned into your pussy before you twitched, convulsing as you squirted into his mouth. he latched onto your pussy, sucking your clit and messily lapping his touch as he drank your juices.

"so.. gross, sugu,"

"lunch break's over, sweetheart," he chuckled with a kiss after he helped you clean up, "tell your coworkers i said hi,"

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

6:07 pm, friday evening

suguru loves watching you eat. he rarely ever works in person, preferring to have his spirit consultations online (where he loves to scam rich people who exploit others). before you come home from work, he makes sure to make you a nice home-cooked meal or get takeout from somewhere you love.

he watches you eat, savoring each spoonful and gushing on and on about how good it tastes. the small smile on his face looks like little cracks on a china plate. to any other person, it would seem as though his reaction was neutral, but you knew this meant he was ecstatic.

later, you flopped on your bed, landing atop the blankets on your back as you sigh happily from the food. he comes up to you, climbing into bed to sit against the headboard before he reached down and rubbed your stomach lightly with his thumb,

"tummy must be all fun huh, angel?" he chuckled, "should i put on a movie?"

you nod, rolling over onto your stomach as you rest your cheek on your crossed arms, shuffling pressing your side against geto's as he watches you swing your feet in the air a bit.

suguru puts on a horror movie and you groan, realizing it was his turn to choose. you haven't seen this one yet, an old classic thriller probably. some stupid killer on the loose with more stupid people getting killed probably.

he watches you, the way you seem so intrigued with the plot, the way your back moves up and down as you breath, your little laughs when the characters make a joke. he just can't help the blood rushing down to his crotch. the movie plays as you begin to drift off before you hear the shuffling of fabric.

before you turn around, you hear him cough and spit into his hand. the sounds of his spit-soaked hand going up and down his cock, sloppy and desperate for relief as he gets so turned on by you doing anything.

"suguu.. are you jacking off right now?" you gasp, your head whipping around to see him pumping his cock with a expressionless face.

"just focus, baby," he grunted, "you look so cute right now,"

you shifted, sitting against the headboard with him, snuggled up to his side as you watched him masturbate. it wasn't weirdest thing, in fact, this was probably the most normal thing going on in your home. he draped his arm around you, resting it on the headboard as you shyly watched him.

"you're so pretty, suguu," you breathed as he sped up his strokes

with a groan, he finishes on his hand, bringing it up to your lips so you could clean it.

"goood girl, always so obedient, aren't you?" he smiles as you release his finger with a pop, licking his hand clean and drifting your focus back to the movie. you try to swallow it covertly but the way his eyes dart to you face shows that he noticed. he nestled closer to you, his arm resting on your thigh.

the movie continued, suguru not even bothering to put his dick back and going bare in your room (ew) before his arm shifted again, the arm around you dropping lower until his fingers were grazing your shoulder. with a blush you squirm as his hand begins to travel down to your clothed chest, resting on it.

you glare at him before focusing on the movie again until you feel him squeeze it lightly, his finger coming up to draw circles around you covered nipple. biting back a moan, you drift your hand closer to his cock until the killer from the movie pops up with a loud bang, scaring you as you yelp.

your clothed clit grazes against geto's fingers as you jump. he holds back a laugh for your sake, watching you scared expression from the film as he keep his fingers against your clit. after a couple minutes, he begins rubbing it gently through your panties.

you moan, pawing at his wrist gently as you babble about watching the movie. he knew you didn't give two shits about the shitty cgi two-star film.

"you don't want it? tell me if you don't want it, baby, i'll stop," he mumbles against your hear as his groping and rubbing stops for a moment, waiting for your response only to be met with silence. he smiles against your ear before he lifts you up, laying you down on the previous position on your stomach again as he sits behind you.

"you wanna focus? then focus."

he watches you squirm, your fluffy pajama shorts hugging your figure as he can almost swear he can see your pussy. he stalks like a predator hunting prey behind you, trapping you under him as he pulls your panties aside.

"don't get scared, baby," he chuckles, "you jumping is only gonna make me feel good,"

he thrusts his dick deep into you as you moan, gripping the sheets as your feet kicked against the bed from the sudden intrusion. he pressed his body against you, leaning into your neck as he inhales your scent, his hand coming up to your face to shove his fingers into your mouth.

"y'look just like the person on screen, sweetheart," he grunts as you dart your eyes to the film, seeing the victims of the killer trapped in a basement with their arms restrained and their mouths duct taped.

what a strange movie.

he presses his body weight on your back as he drills mean thrusts deep into your pussy, his fat cock head pushing against your cervix as you drool on his fingers. you closed your eyes in fear of getting scared by the fictional killer again, but seeing your cute face all scrunched up and choking on his lanky fingers only made him thrust harder.

"shhuuuguu," you choke as he holds you down under him, his mean hips fucking you over and over again.

"gonna cum, angel? yeahh? good girl, take this dick-fuck, i was made for this fuckin sloppy pussy,"

he groans as you nod and drool, enjoying your slurry of words as he pushes his fingers deeper. you convulse and squeze around his cock, milking him until he came with a loud groan. he continues thrusting slowly even after that, letting you ride out your orgasm until he stills in your cum-fill pussy.

he takes his fingers out your mouth, popping them in his mouth to suck them before turning your face to meet his eyes. giving you a soft kiss on your lips, he carries you out your room to properly clean you up.

what a messy girl

[starktonyx]

Would you still love me if I was a worm? - Bucky Barnes x reader

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Word count: 1k

Description: A stupid little question turns into a makeout session. Your teammates hate to see it, except for one.

Note: Bucky is an absolute menace in this one. Tower fics are so back, enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist / John’s version

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Your question startles Bucky from his half sleep state.

Bucky’s body is stretched out across the Watchtower's living room’s couch. You're half splayed on top of him, your cheek against his chest, and your fingers playing with the chain of his dog tags.

You can feel his beard grazing your temple, and his vibranium arm is slung over your body, pulling you tighter to him like he can't stand even half an inch of your bodies being apart.

"What?" He asks, in amused disbelief. His voice is rough, he’d been at the brink of falling asleep.

"Yeah" You lazily mumble, tracing the edge of one tag. "What if you woke up and I was suddenly... a worm?"

His soft laugh vibrates against your ear. You feel his hand twitch against your back, like he's resisting the urge to check your temperature or look for a possible concussion.

He ultimately decides it's probably just you being silly.

"Just like that? In our bed?" He asks, eyes wide with mock concern. "I would probably roll over and crush you. Then cry about it for the rest of my life"

He pinches your side playfully.

"Bucky!" You gasp, laughing into his chest.

God. You don't even know what that laugh does to him.

"Come on, be serious" You whine. "Just answer the question”

"It's not necessarily a serious question, doll"

"Still needs an answer" You lift your head to glare at him. "Or else."

"Or else?" He playfully mocks, eyebrows rising in feigned shock. He throws his head back, shaking it, and his mouth curls into a teasing smirk. "Hell of a threat coming from a worm"

You narrow your eyes at him.

He chuckles, and the way he smirks is different now. You know it meant he was onto something. 

"Fine, doll" He says, no longer mocking. "You really wanna know what I would do?”

In one fluid motion, he flips you beneath him, pinning your back to the cushions. His metal arm beside your head holds his weight as he leans down, lips brushing your jaw.

"I'd be real fucking sad, doll" He mumbles against your skin "Because if you were a worm, I couldn't do this…“

His mouth travels to your neck.

You gasp under him as his beard tickles your skin, his lips trailing hot kisses down your throat. He sucks a spot just below your ear and you whimper, an involuntary, needy sound that he easily pulls from you.

“See, doll?” He mumbles against your skin. “I wouldn’t hear those sweet sounds of yours”

Your hands get lost in his hair, tugging, trying to keep yourself grounded. But it’s no use. He’s all over you.

“Bucky…” you say in a haze, already forgetting what you were even talking about.

He knows you’re melting under his touch, but it’s the only way he can get his point across.

“So yes, I’d still love you” he mumbles, his voice is low and smug “but I couldn’t love you right, doll”

His vibranium arm slips under you, lifting your hips closer to his.

“You feel that, doll face? you wouldn’t be able to take me like this, couldn’t wrap your body around me, couldn’t—”

“BUCKY”

The chorus of disgusted voices and grunts calling him out crashes into you like cold water.

You freeze on the spot. Bucky immediately pauses and closes his eyes for a second.

With heat all over your faces, you peek over the back of the couch.

There in the open kitchen, John is leaning over the counter, with Ava sitting across from him. Yelena lounges beside her with a bowl of popcorn they’d been sharing.

“The stupid worm talk was kinda entertaining” Yelena says, flicking a handful of popcorn at you “But now you’re just being disgusting”

Bucky blocks the kernels with one arm.

“Do you have to get freaky every time you’re in this room?” John complains.

“We’re literally right here” Ava makes a gagging noise.

“We weren’t even doing anything” Bucky says innocently, then grins like the little devil he is. “Yet”

You smack his arm and shove his chest to get up from the awkward position. Bucky groans theatrically but stands, running a hand through his tangled hair like he’s proud of the mess you made.

He offers you a hand up, but when you take it he pulls you back against him the moment you’re standing, pressing a kiss to your neck, eyes locked with them like it’s a challenge.

That horny little bastard.

“Okay, that’s our cue to leave” Ava stands abruptly, the stool screeching across the floor. Her nose wrinkles in disgust.

John follows with the popcorn bowl in hand, muttering “It’s literally every damn week”

“Always the same with these two… at least have some shame” Yelena sighs, shaking her head like a disapproving church aunt before trudging after them.

They vanish down the hallway.

“Alone at last” Bucky whispers over your ear. He gently tucks your hair behind it, then lays another warm kiss against your neck.

You’re just starting to melt again, when the sound of the flick of a page makes you freeze again.

You both whip around to find Bob, still curled up in his reading chair in the corner, legs crossed, his left foot bouncing. He’s been there this entire time, and his expression was calm.

Too calm.

“Bob” Bucky squints at him. “You okay over there, buddy?”

Bob blinks, just noticing you. “Huh? … Oh! Yeah yeah. I’ve had roommates who were way worse. If you don’t mind me, I don’t mind you.”

He shrugs, then slips on his noise canceling headphones and continues reading, completely unfazed.

You stare at him horrified. Worse roommates? What on earth has he seen?

You look at Bucky, whose face mirrors your horror.

“Okay… this got weird” he mutters, shaking his head. But almost instantly, he catches your eye, lips curling. “Unless…”

He looks at you, with that devilish smirk he only does when he knows he's out of line.

This time you smack him harder.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you did not just suggest that we …”

You couldn’t even finish as you break off in a chuckle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, completely unbothered.

“Yeah … whatever, doll. You know those headphones wouldn’t have helped Bob once I had you screaming into the cushions”

You groan, one hand covering your face as the other grabs him by the belt to drag him towards the elevator.

He just lets you, very happily.

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comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

[gyugraphy]

the popcorn incident (r.r.)

synopsis : You hate Bob Reynolds. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself — ever since he pulled away and got closer to Yelena. Now you spend most of your time ranting about him to Bucky…

Meanwhile, Bob spends most of his time avoiding you. (Because he’s pretty sure you like Bucky. And he’s very sure he’s in love with you.)

pairing : robert 'bob' reynolds x reader / sentry x reader

content : pure fluff (again lol don't hate me on this), slight enemiestolovers!au , friendstolovers!au , jealous!bobreynolds

warning/s : kinda cheesy idk

word count : 4.6k

⋆˙⟡

You hate Bob Reynolds.

You hate the way he walks into a room and won’t look at you. You hate the way his eyes flicker toward you when he thinks you’re not watching. You hate how he always chooses the furthest seat from yours now, even though (once) you were the person he chose first.

And worst of all?

You hate how much you still want him to come sit next to you.

The common room smells like popcorn and vaguely burnt pizza. Ava’s cracked the windows again, letting in the cool night air from the New York sky outside. Dim overhead bulbs cast the room in warm yellow light that barely competes with the flickering horror movie on screen.

Yelena is curled on a beanbag chair with her legs tucked under her like a smug cat, hoodie two sizes too big. John’s hogging the recliner, a beer in one hand and his dumb Stars-and-Stripes socks visible from where his boots sit discarded nearby. Ava’s lounging in the corner with a bowl of gummy worms and a knowing smirk.

You walk in behind Bucky, both of you still talking about a mission briefing that had somehow turned into a discussion about raccoons with knives.

“Do not pretend a raccoon could take you down,” you mutter as Bucky snorts.

“I’m just saying, it’s more dangerous than you think,” Bucky deadpans. “Especially with a butter knife.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “I’m not the one who got chased through a compound last week by a genetically engineered goose.”

“That goose had rage in its soul,” you hiss, before realizing the entire room is listening. Yelena snorts into her sleeve. Ava just shakes her head.

You clear your throat, cheeks warm. Your eyes instinctively scan the room—and stop.

There. Couch. Right side.

Bob.

He’s sitting low, one leg crossed over the other knee, navy-blue sweater sleeves bunched up his forearms. His posture is slouched, but his eyes are sharp, focused on the screen, until you catch the briefest glance your way.

Your stomach tightens.

He looks back at the screen before you can even smile.

You hesitate, then move toward the couch. The big popcorn bowl is balanced between him and Bucky. You think about sitting next to Bob, think about all the nights you used to sit shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing, fingers grazing accidentally over the same handful of popcorn.

Maybe you can fix this. Maybe he’ll say something. Maybe this silence he’s been giving you for weeks will finally end.

You hover by the bowl. “Hey,” you say, careful and light. “Can I grab some?”

Bob doesn’t look at you. His hand tenses slightly on the bowl’s rim. He shifts it toward you in silence.

Your fingers brush his.

He pulls back like he’s touched a hot stove.

You feel it like a slap.

You grab the popcorn, mutter a stiff, “Thanks,” and move to sit next to Bucky instead.

Bucky shifts slightly to give you room. You slump beside him, chewing angrily.

“Well that was painful,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

You don’t respond.

“He flinched,” Bucky continues, almost in awe. “Like your fingers were poison.”

You keep your eyes on the screen. “Maybe they are.”

“Strike four,” he whispers.

You glance at him. “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Of every tragic interaction, yes.”

You throw a kernel of popcorn at him. He catches it mid-air.

You lean in slightly, voice low. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“I think he’s a dumbass.”

You smile, but it’s hollow.

“I just—don’t get it. We used to talk. Like… a lot. He used to laugh at my dumb jokes. Now he acts like I stole his dog.”

“Maybe you did.”

You blink. “What?”

“Maybe you stole his metaphorical dog.”

You stare at him. “That’s the worst theory I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s still better than yours,” Bucky mutters.

From across the couch, you feel Bob shift. You glance—he’s still watching the screen, but his fingers have stopped moving. The popcorn bowl rests untouched now, perfectly still in his lap.

The movie flickers into a tense silence.

Then John, voice flat, says, “Can the lovebirds quiet down?”

Your entire spine stiffens.

“Excuse me?” you hiss.

“Shh,” John says, not even turning.

You stare ahead, cheeks burning. Bucky looks halfway between smug and offended.

“Lovebirds,” he whispers, amused.

“Don’t even—”

“I mean, if the shoe fits…”

You elbow him sharply. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says, still smiling.

You risk another glance toward Bob.

His jaw is tight. His eyes are still on the screen. But there’s a twitch in his cheek. The kind he gets when something’s bothering him.

He doesn’t look at you.

You look away first.

⋆˙⟡

The meeting room is too cold.

The A/C’s on full blast, humming above the fluorescent lights. You swear Val keeps it that way just to remind you she’s in charge of everything—including your blood circulation.

You’re running late.

You shove the door open with a muttered apology, the metal creaking slightly, and step inside—boots still muddy from training. Your hair’s barely dry from your post-mission shower, damp strands sticking to your neck. You tug at the collar of your jacket, feeling both underdressed and overstimulated.

Everyone’s already seated.

Yelena’s halfway through a protein bar and somehow still managing to lounge in a government-grade steel chair like it’s a beanbag. Ava’s scrolling her tablet, boots on the table despite multiple prior threats from Val. Walker’s twirling a pen and looking like he’s about to make a comment no one asked for.

Then your eyes land on him.

Bob.

Second from the right. Notebook closed in front of him. Shoulders hunched slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, or maybe disappear altogether.

Two empty chairs beside him.

You hesitate.

The little voice in your head—the one that’s gotten crueler lately—says, Don’t bother. But you ignore it.

You step around the table, slow but deliberate.

Your pulse kicks up as you approach. You wonder—stupidly, hopefully—if maybe this is the moment. Maybe today, he’ll look up. Maybe he’ll say “Hey,” like he used to, voice low and warm. Maybe you’ll sit beside him and feel something like before.

You stop beside the chair next to him.

Bob looks up.

Your breath catches.

And then—

He blinks. His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not even close.

He closes his notebook.

And he stands.

Your eyes widen. He murmurs something to Yelena—too low for you to hear—but she raises one eyebrow and gives him a look that says Seriously? Bob says nothing else. He walks around the back of the table, silent and swift, and drops into a chair across the room.

Your throat tightens.

You sit down heavily in the now-empty chair next to Bucky.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters, barely audible. “That was… something.”

You just shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “What the hell was that?”

Bucky leans in. “He looked like you were holding a knife.”

“Maybe I should start holding one.”

Val walks in, clapping her hands once. “Alright, Thunderbolts. Everyone awake? Good. Let’s make this quick. I’ve got meetings stacked higher than Walker’s ego.”

Walker scoffs. “Hilarious.”

“Quiet, star-spangled disaster,” Val says dryly.

You try to focus. Val drones on about the last mission—errors, improvements, recon notes. Words blur into static.

Bob doesn’t look at you. Not once.

You glance at him—he’s leaning back, hands clasped in his lap, eyes fixed on the slide deck like it owes him something. He’s not scribbling notes like he usually does. He’s not twirling his pen. He’s not moving.

You grit your teeth and turn to Bucky.

“He’s ignoring me again.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “We’re mid-briefing.”

“I’m going to strangle him with his own hoodie.”

“That’s dramatic. Effective, though.”

Val clicks to the next slide.

You whisper, “Why is he like this? He used to talk to me.”

“Used to eat lunch with you too,” Bucky murmurs. “Used to laugh.”

“I know that.”

“And now he’s pretending you don’t exist.”

“Exactly!”

“You think maybe… that’s the opposite of what’s happening?”

You blink. “What?”

Bucky just smirks.

Then—

Val slaps a hand on the table. “Hey. Lovebirds. Try keeping the domestic bickering to a whisper?”

Your soul leaves your body.

You blink. “I’m sorry—what?”

Walker snorts. Ava doesn’t even look up from her tablet.

Val waves a hand. “Whatever. Just pay attention. I’m not repeating myself for your unresolved sexual tension.”

The room falls quiet.

Bucky leans into his hand, elbow on the table. “I think we’ve just been outed.”

You bury your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

You chance a glance at Bob.

He hasn’t moved.

He’s staring at the table. Not at you. But his knuckles are white where they rest on his knee.

You’re too stunned to say anything.

The rest of the debrief is a blur.

⋆˙⟡

The training room smells like rubber mats and frustration.

Sweat beads at the back of your neck as you pace toward the punching dummies, your left ankle throbbing with every step. You rolled it bad—stupidly—during a dodging drill with Ava and Walker. You’d laughed it off at the time, brushing dirt off your shoulder like it was nothing.

But now that the adrenaline’s fading, it hurts.

The sun’s just beginning to dip behind the compound’s reinforced windows, casting the entire gym in a low, orange haze. Yelena is by the far wall, throwing knives at a wooden dummy’s face like she’s flirting with murder. Ava’s perched on a bench with her headphones in, scrolling through footage on her tablet. Walker’s long gone, probably off to inflate his ego somewhere else.

And there’s Bob. Across the room.

He’s standing by the free weights, curling a bar like it weighs nothing. His hair’s damp at the edges, sticking slightly to his temples. He’s in his navy long-sleeve again—his favorite, the one that’s worn thin at the elbows. His eyes flick toward you as you limp slightly past.

Your breath catches.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you today.

You feel it. That familiar flutter in your chest that you keep trying to kill.

You open your mouth—to say anything—but hesitate. He looks like he might say something, too. Like he’s going to take a step forward. His fingers twitch slightly against the bar.

And then you hear it:

“You alright?”

You turn.

Bucky’s walking over from the hallway, towel slung around his shoulders, brow furrowed as he catches your limp.

“Oh. Yeah. Just twisted it earlier. It’s not bad.” You wave a hand like that makes it true.

“Let me see,” he says, already crouching down beside the bench. “Sit.”

You hesitate. “I was gonna—” You glance back toward Bob.

But he’s still standing there. Still watching. Frozen in place.

Whatever he was going to say—if he was going to say it—dies.

He takes one slow step back.

You sigh, quietly, and sit down beside Bucky instead.

He pulls your boot off gently, inspecting the swollen ankle.

You wince. “I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t mean you should ignore it.” Bucky digs in a nearby locker for an ice pack. “You planning on training through this like a moron, or letting me tape it?”

You roll your eyes, but smile. “Fine. Doctor Barnes.”

“I’ll add that to the list of titles I never asked for.”

Across the room, Bob hasn’t moved.

His jaw’s tight. His hands open and close once, then again. He watches the two of you quietly, unreadable.

He takes a breath, like he’s about to come over anyway.

But Yelena appears behind him without warning. “You’re glaring again,” she mutters.

Bob startles, just barely. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t—” He glances over at you and Bucky. Bucky’s crouched now, wrapping your ankle in gauze, your hand on his shoulder to keep balance. You laugh at something he says.

Bob turns away.

Yelena raises an eyebrow. “You gonna keep lying or just explode already?”

“Shut up,” Bob mutters.

“Sure,” she says, biting into an energy bar. “Just let me know when you’re done pining like a 17-year-old Victorian widow.”

He shoots her a look, but she’s already walking away.

He turns back toward you, just in time to see you toss Bucky an appreciative smile and say, “Thanks, Buck.”

And then you’re gone—hobbling off toward the lockers with Bucky trailing beside you.

Bob stares at the door long after you’ve disappeared.

⋆˙⟡

Bob’s hands have been sitting still for too long.

One of them rests on the disassembled sidearm laid out in front of him, the other curled tight against his jaw as he leans on the table. His brow is furrowed. His brain hasn’t registered a single thing in the last fifteen minutes. The room is quiet, except for the distant hum of the overhead lights and the occasional thud of Yelena dropping gear somewhere behind him.

He stares at the gun like it’ll reassemble his thoughts for him.

“You’re sulking again,” comes her voice, sharp and dry as vodka.

He doesn’t look up. “I’m not.”

“You’re brooding in the dark, surrounded by dangerous objects,” she replies, stepping closer and leaning against the metal counter with a crunch of her granola bar. “That’s called sulking, Bob.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

He exhales, long and slow. “I’m just… thinking.”

“About her?” Yelena chews. “Or are we pretending you don’t do that every three hours?”

He doesn’t answer. Just picks up a screwdriver, flips it once in his palm, then puts it back down like it’s too heavy to hold.

She softens a little. “What happened this time?”

He doesn’t know where to start. He could say, I saw her ankle give out and didn’t move fast enough. Or maybe, I saw her smile at Bucky again and it felt like a kick to the ribs. But none of that explains how badly he wants to rewind everything. Go back to when you used to wait for him after missions. When you’d lean on his shoulder while teasing Walker or smirking at Yelena like you were in on some inside joke Bob would never understand.

He remembers the sound of your laugh. That full-bodied, uncaring laugh that only came out when you felt safe. You used to laugh like that around him.

“I think she hates me,” he says eventually, voice low.

“She doesn’t,” Yelena says without hesitation.

“She used to talk to me,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Every day. About random stuff—TV shows, your neighbor’s dog, the vending machine being rigged. And I was stupid enough to think it would last.”

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. “What changed?”

“I did.”

And he did. Somewhere in the space between trusting you and falling for you, he got weird. He started pulling back, dodging eye contact, brushing off conversations before they could start. He didn’t know how to handle it—how to want you without scaring you away.

So instead, he scared himself into silence.

You’d walked into the common room that night with Bucky at your side, your laugh trailing behind you like perfume. You were trying to get popcorn—just a normal thing—but then your hand brushed his and his whole body tensed like he’d touched fire. He pulled back before he even thought about it.

Your smile faded so fast it made his stomach turn.

He should’ve said something. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—

But instead, he just froze, watching you walk away, bowl in hand, settling on the couch next to Bucky like that was where you belonged now.

He couldn’t focus on the movie. He couldn’t even hear it over the pounding in his ears. Every time you leaned into Bucky’s side, something bitter tightened in his throat. You didn’t even look his way after that. Why would you?

He hadn’t just pulled away. He’d disappeared.

Yelena watches him quietly now, like she knows where his mind is drifting. “Did something else happen?”

He nods. “Debrief, a few days ago.”

She waits.

“I walked in and saw her scanning the room,” he says. “She looked like she was gonna sit next to me. She almost did. But I… I moved.”

“You ran.”

He winces. “Walked. Quickly. To the other side of the table.”

“Coward.”

“I know.” He leans back, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “I couldn’t do it. I was going to say hi. Ask about her shoulder—she took a hit on the last mission—but I panicked.”

Yelena hums in that way she does when she’s judging him quietly.

“She sat next to Bucky instead. Again,” Bob adds, bitterness creeping into his voice. “They were whispering to each other, laughing during Val’s rundown, and then Val says—” His voice shifts, mocking: “‘Can the lovebirds pay attention?’”

Yelena snorts.

“She didn’t deny it,” Bob says quickly, like he needs her to know this part. “Didn’t laugh, didn’t say, we’re not a thing. Just turned red and glared at Val, like it was a thing and she was embarrassed about it.”

Yelena doesn’t answer right away.

Bob lets his head drop forward into his hands. “I know it sounds stupid. It is stupid. But I keep seeing them together, and it’s not just the proximity. It’s the way she looks at him. Talks to him.”

“You mean the way she used to talk to you?"

He goes still.

Yelena softens, voice less teasing. “Bob… maybe she’s just trying to fill the space you left.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

Then yesterday happened.

He saw you limp into the gym and his entire nervous system lit up. You were trying to play it cool, but he knew that look—you were in pain and trying not to show it.

He took one step forward, almost called your name.

But Bucky beat him to it.

Hey, you alright?

Bob watched, rooted in place, as you let Bucky guide you to the bench. Watched you let him take off your boot. Wrap your ankle. You laughed at something he said again, that same sound Bob used to hear on accident—when you were scrolling your phone on the couch beside him, or teasing him over his “weird cult-leader” handwriting.

Bob’s hands had clenched. His chest felt hollow.

And still, he hadn’t moved.

“Every time I try to fix it, I mess it up more,” he says now, his voice ragged with frustration. “And every time I don’t fix it, I lose her a little more.”

Yelena tosses her granola wrapper in the bin. “So what, you’re just going to keep watching her from across the room like some tragic Regency novel?”

Bob glares weakly. “I just… I don’t know what she wants anymore.”

“Well,” Yelena stands, dusting off her pants. “Maybe she doesn’t either. You’ve given her nothing to work with.”

He swallows.

She’s right.

He remembers the way you used to look at him—eyes full of challenge, of trust. You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Now, when you glance his way, there’s hurt in your eyes. And confusion. And maybe—just maybe—a little hope you haven’t managed to kill off completely.

Bob wants to believe it isn’t too late.

But he also knows he’s running out of chances to find out.

⋆˙⟡

The med bay is quiet except for the gentle whir of the portable stim unit on your ankle. You should be focusing on your recovery, on resting, but your mind’s pacing in circles. Restless. It’s been days since the last mission. Days since you sprained your ankle and Bob almost helped you.

Almost.

The sound of that one step he took toward you is burned into your skull. You heard it. Saw the flicker of concern in his expression. The way he looked like he might finally say something. But he didn’t. Again.

Instead, Bucky helped you. Like he always does.

And maybe you’re just exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically—but tonight, as the pain pulses dully through your foot and frustration simmers in your chest, you decide you’ve had enough.

You’re done letting Bob hide behind silence.

You leave the med bay the moment your foot can bear weight and stalk the halls with too much purpose for someone supposed to be recovering. You know exactly where he’ll be. The observation deck. He always retreats there after missions, like he’s hoping the stars will answer something the rest of you can’t.

Sure enough, you spot him through the glass, silhouetted in the cool blue glow of the night sky beyond. Hood up. Shoulders hunched. Like the world’s sitting on his back.

He doesn’t hear you enter. Or maybe he does and chooses not to turn.

You stop a few feet behind him.

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

His shoulders stiffen.

No greeting. No pleasantries. You don’t have the patience for any of it.

He doesn’t turn.

You take another step closer. “Seriously, Bob. What the hell did I do to make you act like I’m some kind of ghost?”

Nothing.

You force a breath. Your voice cracks. “You used to be my best friend.”

That finally gets him. Slowly, he turns, the hood dropping back just enough to let you see the guilt carved into his features. He looks tired. Paler than usual. And yet somehow still impossible to read.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he says, too quiet to be convincing.

You scoff. “Bullshit. You can’t even look me in the eye anymore. I try to talk to you, you bolt. I reach for the popcorn and you practically teleport away. You leave the room when I sit down. You change training shifts to avoid me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to, or you didn’t want to be around me?”

He winces. His mouth opens like he wants to explain. But nothing comes out.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Do you hate me now?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He jolts. “What?”

“Just tell me,” you snap, covering your pain with anger. “If I did something wrong—if I messed this up somehow—just say it.”

“You didn’t,” he says, fast, desperate. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

“Then why?” You’re breathing harder now. “Why did you just… drop me? You let me think I was crazy for feeling the distance when you were the one building it!”

“I had to,” he mutters.

You step closer. “Why?”

He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not. You either care or you don’t.”

“I do care,” he blurts, suddenly louder, voice cracking like thunder off the glass.

Silence falls between you. Heavy. Fragile.

You blink. “Then why do you treat me like I don’t exist?”

Bob runs both hands through his hair, pacing away from you, then back, like he’s coming apart.

“Because it’s easier than wanting something I can’t have,” he finally breathes.

You stare.

He exhales like he’s been holding that in for months. “You and Bucky… I see the way you look at him. I hear the way you talk to him. I thought maybe if I backed off, I could deal with it. But every time I see you with him, it’s like my ribs are caving in.”

You’re stunned.

“Bob—”

“And then Val calls you ‘lovebirds,’ and you don’t deny it. You blushed. I thought…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “I thought I missed my chance. That I’d already messed it up. And if I couldn’t be what you wanted, the least I could do was get out of your way.”

Your voice comes out gentler. “You thought I was with Bucky?”

“Aren’t you?”

You stare at him. “No. Of course not.”

He blinks. “But you’re always with him. Laughing. Whispering. You lean on him.”

“Because he listens. Because you wouldn’t.”

“I was trying to protect myself.”

“And I was trying to understand why the person I care about most started treating me like a stranger!”

That lands like a punch. Bob’s shoulders sag. He looks like he’s about to fold in on himself.

You step forward. Hesitate. Then place a hand on his chest—just over his heart.

“You idiot,” you whisper. “You really thought I wanted Bucky?”

Bob doesn’t answer. His eyes are wide, vulnerable. Your touch stills him completely.

“I wanted you.” You say it quietly. Gently. Like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

He exhales shakily. His hands twitch at his sides, then lift—hesitant, slow—as if he’s terrified touching you might break the moment.

But when he finally presses his palm over yours, the tension breaks.

Neither of you says a word for a long time.

Then, finally, he leans forward, forehead resting against yours, breath shallow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

His breath hitches. “I never stopped.”

⋆˙⟡

You weren’t planning on sitting next to him. Not really. You told yourself you’d play it cool. Casual. Normal. You were going to walk in, nod politely, and take your usual spot next to Bucky like the last three weeks.

But tonight… you hesitate at the door.

Bob’s already there. Hood down, for once. Jacket draped over the back of the couch. He’s wearing that old faded band tee you once teased him about—the one you said made him look like a roadie, not a superhero. And he’s looking around the room like he’s searching for something.

For someone.

Your pulse kicks up.

Yelena’s on the far couch, legs tucked under her, already spoon-deep into a pint of ice cream. John’s half asleep in the armchair with a beer balanced precariously on his thigh. Ava is floating just above the beanbag pile, watching the screen like she’s trying to decipher code. Bucky’s leaning against the back wall with crossed arms, waiting to see where you sit before he picks a seat.

And Bob… Bob catches your eye and doesn’t look away.

Not for a second.

It’s nothing like before.

There’s no flinching. No retreat. Just that soft, unsure gravity you’d missed so badly.

Your feet move before you think about it. You take the empty spot beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It feels terrifying.

And then Bob shifts, ever so slightly, to give you more space. Or maybe to meet you halfway. His thigh brushes yours. He doesn’t pull back.

You glance sideways. His fingers twitch against the blanket on his lap.

Yelena lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh my God.”

You freeze.

John jerks upright. “What?”

Bucky just huffs a quiet chuckle and takes the nearest beanbag. “Took them long enough.”

You blink. “What are you—”

“Oh, please,” Yelena drawls. “This has been a six-act drama and we’re finally at the resolution. Do not deny me this.”

Bob lets out a groan and sinks lower into the couch.

Val, from somewhere in the hallway, calls out without even looking in: “If anyone makes out during the opening credits, I’m kicking you off the mission roster.”

You bury your face in your hands.

Bob coughs into a laugh beside you.

Bucky leans over and mutters, “So, when’s the wedding?”

You elbow him, face burning.

Bob’s hand brushes yours—light, hesitant—and then doesn’t move. Fingers barely touching. Like a promise he’s still too shy to make out loud.

The movie starts. Everyone settles.

You stay exactly where you are, shoulder to shoulder with the man you thought you lost. The man who is still here.

And even with the teasing, the knowing glances, and the smug looks from across the room—you’re smiling.

Finally.

⋆˙⟡

A/N : another blurb before i do a request and continue finishing psyche 3 (i just have no creative juice to squeeze anymore)

A/N 2 : i love bob so much i want to write him in every trope there is LMAOO

A/N 3 : bucky barnes one shot, anyone? non-smut because i physically cannot bring myself to write smut i get very uncomfortable while writing and they end up being SO BAD