#dark!lewis pullman x reader

[jazziejax]

I caved….

😜

[trainer-from-unova]

[em1i2a3]

Test Drive

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

Summary: You have a late night encounter with The Void

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts as there is Bob in this and there is The Void in this as well. This fic is kinda dark, this is The Void we are dealing with here, there are dark themes/elements explored in this story (but I will emphasize that everything is consensual in this), The Void talks kinda badly about Bob, Bob and Reader have an established friendship and both of them have feelings for one another that have been left unspoken, there is smut and angst in this as well, and a lot of Emotional Tension, The Void is kind of Obsessed with you too…

Smut Warnings: To be a bit on the safe side I would say this is Dub Con (it could kind of be looked at like that, I didn’t write it with those intentions but just in case I wanted to put it there), Unprotected P in V Sex (please…If you’re going to have sex with entities like this wrap it up lol), The Void is Dominant as shit in this, There is Biting, Scratching, Markings left on the Reader, Dacryphilia (The Void likes tears…), Hair Pulling, Fingering, A little bit of humiliation? A bit of fem! Oral sex too.

Author’s Note: Howdy y’all…Well…This is my first Void Smut lol and jeez lord I really had to sink into it a bit and dig. This is my interpretation of how The Void would do or handle things, I didn’t want to go too extreme, but I liked the request (made by @miss-whiddlesmort ) and hope that it meets expectations! Enjoy :)

Word Count: 7,759

The night you met The Void officially, you thought you were hallucinating or living out a real-life nightmare.

You had woken in your bed at the compound, drenched in sweat and tangled in your dampened sheets. The clock on the wall blinked 3:17 a.m. in red, hazy numbers.

That alone wasn’t new.

You’d had nights like this before–restless, disturbed, aching for something unnamed but constant. But this night was different.

There was a pressure in the room. A wrongness that seeped in through your pores and clamped around your lungs.

The air was too still, too silent. And the temperature–God, the cold–it wasn’t natural. It sank into your bones like frostbite, numbing your limbs before you’d even sat up. You clutched your chest with a trembling hand, your heart fluttering against your ribs like a bird trapped in glass.

Your nightshirt clung to your damp skin, and as you wiped the sweat from your brow, you realized it wasn’t just perspiration. It was fear. Primal. Instinctive. As if your body recognized something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

The shadows in your room were darker than usual. Not thicker. Not blacker. Just…Deeper. Like they had weight. Like they were watching.

You blinked, trying to let your eyes adjust to the darkness.

And then the corner moved.

Not a trick of light. Not sleep haze. The shadows moved–separating from the darkness like smoke drawn backward through a vent. Tall. Silent. Fluid.

Something seeped forward.

And when it stepped into the faint light slicing through your blinds, your breath caught.

Bob.

No. Not Bob.

The shape was his. The height, the shoulders, the outline of his jaw. The way his mouth curved slightly at the corners like he was seconds away from smiling. You’d seen that shape slouched on the couch during late-night movie marathons. You’d seen it standing barefoot in the kitchen making tea. You’d memorized it without meaning to.

But this…This wasn’t him.

His form was made of shadow, but it held. It wasn’t formless. It wasn’t drifting. It was shaped with purpose–an echo of the man you knew, but built from smoke and malice. His skin, if you could call it that, moved like a storm behind thin glass. Unstable. Eternal. His hair bled into the void around him, lost to darkness.

And his eyes–those weren’t Bob’s eyes. No blue, no softness. Just two white voids of light. Blank and endless. Not glowing with heat, but glowing like distant stars–cold, ancient, unreachable.

His mouth, though–from what you could see– was pale and sharp and curled ever so slightly, like he knew something you didn’t.

Your body was frozen, but not from fear alone. There was something else. Something creeping beneath your skin, worming into the base of your spine.

Then he spoke.

“So this is who he dreams about,” He murmured, voice low and silken–too smooth. The kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to command. A voice that made your blood slow.

It curled around your ears like smoke. Like a whisper just for you.

“I wanted to see for myself.” He took a step forward, and the air folded inward, like the room itself recoiled around his form. He didn’t walk–he glided, impossibly smooth, like the world didn’t apply to him in the same way it did to everything else. He made the shadows stretch with him, bend for him.

You couldn’t breathe, but you could feel yourself cowering slightly, afraid of what his next move might be. Being in a room alone with him was like a ticking time bomb, you had witnessed him only once, and that was with Bob present to defend everyone from him…Now was not the case.

“You think he doesn’t know?” The Void asked, tilting his head just slightly, like he was marveling at a secret. “The way you look at him?”

His voice was nearly a whisper now, soft and deliberate. “The way your breath catches when he smiles at someone else. How you light up when he says your name. How your thighs tense when he accidentally brushes your arm in the hallway.”

He was closer now–too close–and every inch of his presence filled your skin with that same biting chill. It sank into your bones, into your lungs, until your shiver wasn’t just fear, but anticipation you didn’t want to name. The scent of ozone, and burnt concrete itched your nose, and there was something earthy beneath it all, like he had been pulled out of the ground.

“I could smell it on you when I woke,” He murmured, lifting one hand. His fingers hovered just beside your cheek, not quite touching, but you could feel it–like static in the air, cold and prickling. “The heat. The ache. You wanted him to come to your door tonight, didn’t you?”

You swallowed hard. “He’s not–he wouldn’t–”

The Void laughed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t manic. It was soft, and deep–it vibrated into your chest. And that was worse.

“Of course not. He’s Bob,” The Void said with a sneer beneath the velvet of his voice. “Sweet. Gentle. Terrified of his own hunger. He’s dying to touch you–but he won’t. Because he’s weak.”

His hand touched your jaw. Cold. Unrelenting.

“You would’ve given yourself to him,” He whispered, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. “If he asked. You would’ve spread your thighs like a prayer and begged him to take you. And he’d be too afraid to move.” You whimpered, more from the sting of that truth than from his touch. The Void leaned closer, and you could feel his mouth–just hovering above yours, the barest breath of sensation. Not warmth. Nothing about him was warm. Just the presence of absence itself. He wasn’t breathing–at least not the way humans do–but somehow, you could feel it: cold tendrils of air that weren’t air at all, seeping from his lips to yours like he was pouring frost into your lungs.

His hand slid beneath your chin, fingers long, cold and elegant, as if carved from obsidian smoke. They curved under your jaw with inhuman precision–lifting your face toward him with a gentleness that betrayed none of the power coiled in his touch.

“Look at me,” He said, voice low and silken. It didn’t echo in your ears–it vibrated through you. Beneath your ribs. In your spine. Like something whispered through a cathedral built only for nightmares.

And when you did–when your eyes met those twin, glowing voids of light–you felt your thoughts stutter.

He didn’t just look at you. He reached into you with that stare. Unraveling the parts you kept hidden even from yourself.

“I know everything you want,” He cooed, his lips brushing your cheek now, the chill of him raising goosebumps across your entire body. “Every suppressed breath. Every trembling thought. Every filthy little ache that keeps you awake.”

Your throat tightened. Your lips parted–but not to speak. You couldn’t have spoken if you tried.

He hovered there like a vampire from a storybook dream, all sin and shadows, all impossible temptation wrapped in the shape of the man you secretly loved. But colder. Sharper. And infinitely crueler. Your lips trembled. You tried to speak–tried to summon words, a command, a plea, anything–but all that came out was a faint breath:

“B–Bob…”

The Void stilled. Just for a moment.

And then he smiled.

Not sweetly. Not kindly.

The corners of his mouth curled upward with slow, surgical delight. Like he’d been waiting to hear that name spill out of your mouth and now that it had, he could savor it like blood on his tongue.

“No,” He said, his voice even lower now–darker, closer. His thumb pressed more firmly against your chin. “Don’t say his name like that. Not here. Not while I’m the one who has you.”

You tried to look away, to break eye contact, but his hand shifted, guiding your gaze back to him like a puppeteer tugging on strings.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with you,” The Void continued, his breathless voice curling around your spine, holding onto it. “He’d be so afraid to hurt you, he’d never touch you the way you need.”

His other hand moved–ghosting down your shoulder, across your arm–cold, trailing goosebumps in its wake. You shivered beneath the touch, not just from the chill but from the fact that you didn’t pull away.

You should have.

You should be demanding he leave. But you weren’t.

Because your body, traitorous and trembling, was reacting to his every move and hanging on anticipation.

His fingers slid downward with slow, excruciating purpose, skimming over the curve of your chest–your nightshirt thin and damp against your skin. And when the pad of his index finger ghosted across your nipple–already perked beneath the fabric from the cold, you gasped.

You didn’t mean to. But you did.

You felt it–felt how your back arched the tiniest bit, how your hips shifted, how your thighs pressed closer together beneath the sheets. It was instinctual. Automatic.

Mortifying.

Arousal curled through your stomach like steam, hot and confusing.

His voice dropped into something darker. Amused.

“Oh,” The Void breathed, fingertips circling once, lazily, over your breast. “You feel it too.”

“I–” You choked, the sound sticking in your throat.

“You shouldn’t,” He interrupted, drawing his hand downward, trailing over the soft dip of your belly now. “You know that…But you feel it regardless.”

His palm found your thigh–bare where your nightshirt had ridden up–and he let it rest there, cold and heavy. Possessive. The contrast of his icy skin on your overheated flesh made your whole body twitch.

Your heart was slamming in your chest now. Erratic. Desperate. You could hear it in your ears, feel it in your fingertips, in your pulsing core.

His thumb stroked slow, cold circles against the flesh of your thigh–each one burning in reverse. Your skin prickled with goosebumps even as heat started to pool low in your belly. The contact was barely pressure, but it might as well have been chains. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe without taking more of him in.

His mouth hovered above yours, still not kissing. Still denying. Just close enough to own the air between you, to breathe you and all your sensations in.

Every breath you took was through him. And every breath he gave you, he took something with it.

“You’re wet,” He whispered, voice dark and delighted. “You’re shaking and aching–but you’re wet.”

His lips skimmed your cheek again. His nose nuzzled softly beneath your ear, like a lover might, if a lover was made of cold smoke and unspeakable things.

“That’s what scares you most, isn’t it?” He purred, a smile in his voice. “Not me. You. The part of you that wants this.”

Your breath hitched. You squeezed your eyes shut again. And of course–of course–that was when he said it:

“You’re pretending it’s him right now.”

Your whole body went still.

“You’re closing your eyes and painting his face over mine. Giving his heat to my hands. Imagining him finally breaking. Finally taking what he wants.”

His hand trailed upward, fingers brushing the crease where your thigh met your aching core.

You moaned–quiet and shameful.

“And that’s fine,” He whispered. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

He exhaled again–his breath sliding straight into your mouth, down your throat, curling around your insides like frost. You trembled beneath it.

“I’m here because you want him so badly,” He teased, “You’ll let anyone who looks like him fuck you.”

His words struck hard, and heat flooded your face–burning your ears, your cheeks. You felt exposed. Humiliated. But your hips still shifted beneath his palm.

“You think it’s wrong,” He continued, as his fingers began drawing slow circles through the thin damp cotton of your underwear. “To be turned on by me.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous purr. “But it’s not...”

You gasped, trying to speak. But his hand lifted again–just enough to make your body whimper in protest at the loss.

His lips turned up against your jaw.

“Now,” He said, his voice velvet and bone. “Let’s make a deal.”

Your eyes fluttered open–blurry, dizzy, dazed.

His glowing ones were waiting for you.

“I’ll let you pretend that I’m him,” He whispered, voice like the crackle of burning ice, as his hand slipped up towards the waistband of your underwear, trailing his thumb along the elastic before disappearing beneath it–your thighs separating slightly, feeling his fingers find your clit instantly with cold perscision.

And you moaned–a soft, broken sound that escaped before you could stop it, muffled against his mouth as your lips hovered just shy of his. You weren’t even kissing yet, but it felt like you were inside it–like you were already swallowed whole by the gravity between you.

His breath hitched.

His thumb circled slowly, then again–each pass was more deliberate, more devastating. The heat building inside you was unbearable now, your thighs trembling, your core pulsing, your breath nothing but fractured gasps drawn from his air.

“You feel that?” He breathed, his voice like crushed silk, smooth and vicious. “That ache you’ve been living with for months–how easily it folds under my hand.”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

His fingers moved with cruel grace–unrelenting, skilled in a way that made your knees curl up slightly and your hips roll without thought. Like your body was begging him to stay there. To keep going.

“You don’t even need me to finish the offer, do you?” He whispered against your lips. “You already know what I’m giving you. And you want it.”

You trembled. “S-Say it anyway,” The words came out broken from your throat, distracted by the feeling of his fingers, and the thoughts of Bob plaguing your mind already.

His smile was carved ice.

“I’ll let you pretend I’m him. All night. I’ll make you sob for it. Shake. Come until you forget your name,” He purred, fingers still working slow, filthy circles that had your legs twitching. “And when morning comes, he won’t remember a thing. But you will. Every inch. Every sound. Every thrust.”

He leaned in, lips brushing yours, his breath catching on your next inhale. “You get to pretend he was brave enough to take what you gave him.”

The pad of his middle finger pressed down harder, applying the perfect hint pressure, and your head dropped back with a quiet, whimpering cry.

Then–his voice, low and demanding:

“So say…It’s a deal…”

Your answer wasn’t a whisper. It wasn’t broken.

It was plain. Certain. Cut from your throat like a spell:

“Yes.”

The Void groaned–dark and low, like he felt that word slide into him like lightning.

Then he kissed you.

It pulled you apart at the seams, stealing every breath and sound and shred of hesitation you had left. His lips were cold, brutal, claiming your mouth like it was already his. His tongue swept into you with a force that left no room for thinking, only reacting–tasting every gasp, every soft whimper, like he wanted to learn you from the inside out.

And all the while, his fingers never stopped.

Circling. Stroking. Pressing into that aching bundle of nerves with precision that felt unholy.

It wasn’t fair–how good it felt. Your thighs were trembling, your hands fisting in the sheets as your hips rolled helplessly beneath the weight of his palm. You weren’t guiding any of it anymore. Your body was answering him like a prayer–instinctive, desperate, worshipful.

The heat inside you was like a storm cracking through your core. Your belly tightened, breath stuttering, back arching as he kept his rhythm–slow enough to tease, hard enough to devastate. Your moans were muffled by his kiss, swallowed like secrets. But he heard them. He fed on them.

When he pulled back, a strand of spit still connected your lips to his, glistening between you in the dark.

“Look at you,” He murmured, voice low and reverent. “Already falling apart. And I’ve barely touched you.”

Your chest heaved, your skin burning with fevered need, your hands gripping the fabric beneath you like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away.

His fingers withdrew from your underwear–not to stop, but to hook into the waistband and pull them down your legs in a single smooth motion. You flinched, breath catching as the cool air hit your slick heat, now fully exposed.

The Void knelt on the edge of the bed, eyes drinking you in. His glowing stare raked over every inch of you–spread out, trembling, glistening with sweat and arousal, your thighs parted for him like an offering.

“Mine,” He said simply, cold fingers curling around your knees to drag you closer to the edge. “Even if he never dares to take you…You’re already mine.”

You gasped as he leaned in–and licked you.

One, slow stroke of his tongue from your core to your clit. Cold and so precise, you thought you might scream.

You let out soft sob–a broken, high sound that ripped from your throat without your permission.

His tongue pressed harder, licking again, again–unrelenting. Each movement of his mouth was calculated to destroy. To burn. He sucked your clit between his lips, not gently, but with purpose. Claiming. Consuming. You cried out, hands flying to his hair–or where his hair should’ve been. It wasn’t soft. It was smoke. Cold, silk-like shadow that rippled through your fingers, impossibly smooth.

And that was when he looked up.

Eyes like galaxies–white, blinding, ancient–locked onto yours, but all you could picture was Bob’s baby blues instead. You realized your face was wet. You were crying.

From the pleasure. From the ache that was finally being dealt with. From the heat and the way your own body was betraying every moral line you’d ever drawn.

He saw it.

And he moaned.

Low. Dark. A sound of pure, vicious delight.

“Oh…” He whispered, voice cracking like ice underfoot. His shadowed lips glistened with your slick as he rose up again, fingers returning to your clit again to keep the friction, stroking with even more purpose. “That’s what I wanted.”

His free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face so he could see the tears streaming down your skin. His thumb smudged one under your eye, then dragged it to your mouth, pressing it between your parted lips.

“Open,” He commanded, voice honeyed with sin.

You listened to him, and felt the wet pad of his thumb press onto your tongue. You tasted the salt.

He smiled.

“Beautiful,” He breathed. “Fucking beautiful.”

And then he pushed two fingers inside you–slowly, and deliberately so he could watch every reaction come up on your face. His fingers curled just right, and your whole body arched–an electric jolt of pleasure snatching the breath from your lungs. You were spread wide for him now, every nerve ending lit, pulsing, raw. The tears on your cheeks hadn’t even dried, and he was already dragging another cry from your throat.

“You’re picturing him now, aren’t you?” The Void murmured, voice velvet over a blade. His forehead pressed against yours, his body so close you could feel the cold hum of his power licking against your skin. “Every time I move inside you… You pretend it’s him.”

You whimpered–because you were. You couldn’t help it.

You weren’t just picturing Bob’s face–you were reaching for his warmth, his shy hands, the softness in his voice, the revenant way he might have touched you if he weren’t so afraid. But The Void moved like he already knew everything Bob wouldn’t do.

And somehow, that hurt.

“You want it to be him,” The Void whispered, curling his fingers again, harder this time, making your eyes roll back. “Sweet, trembling Bob. Who’d kiss your thighs before he ever put his fingers in you. Who’d ask you twice if it’s okay. Who’d thank you when you came.”

He laughed softly, but not unkindly. The sound was dark–yes–but laced with something deeper. Possession. Hunger.

“Poor thing,” He crooned. “You’ve been dreaming of him for so long, you don’t even care who makes it real, do you? You just need it. You need to feel.”

His fingers began to thrust now–slow, deep, deliberate. Every motion wrung a moan from your mouth. Your hips moved helplessly with his rhythm, chasing friction, chasing something that felt dangerously close to breaking again.

“But I can do it for him,” The Void purred, his lips grazing your jaw, your ear, your temple. “I can fuck you like he never will. Let you feel what it’s like to be wanted without the fear of ruining your little friendship. Touched without hesitation.”

Your breath hitched. Your legs trembled. His thumb returned to your clit and circled–one cruel, precise motion that made your whole body lock up in place.

“You want to hear him say it?” The Void asked. “You want to hear what he’d never dare whisper in your ear?”

You couldn’t even answer. Your mouth opened–but the sound that came out was just a needy little gasp, half-sob, half-beg.

He smiled–so close you could taste it. Then–

“You feel so fucking perfect,” He whispered, but it was Bob’s voice now.

Or at least, it was close. A mimic. A shadow with just enough truth to break you.

“I think about this every night. Your skin under my hands. The sounds you’d make. The way your thighs would tremble when I finally touched you like this–” His fingers thrust harder–deep and brutal and exact “–God, sweetheart. I’d ruin you.”

You moaned–loud and raw, your whole body jolting at the sound of those words in his voice. You weren’t just picturing him now–you were with him. In some twisted way, he was here, folded into the darkness.

“I’d kiss you everywhere,” The Void murmured, still using Bob’s warmth, that breathless awe, as if he knew exactly how Bob would sound if he let go. “Worship you. Fuck you slow until you cried.”

His fingers drove deeper. Your orgasm clawed at your spine–hot, frantic, building fast.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, back in his own voice now. “You’d let him fall apart inside you.”

You nodded–desperate, whimpering, eyes wet again.

“Then do it,” He hissed. “Come for him, and then let me take you...”

That was it.

The wave crashed.

You shattered.

Your mouth dropped open, a silent cry tearing from your chest as you pulsed hard around his fingers–clenching, sobbing, breaking on the pleasure that stole your name and your breath in one brutal, beautiful stroke.

And as you came, The Void held you–his body pressed against yours like a shroud, his cheek to yours, his fingers still pumping slowly and deep to drag every last aftershock from your spent, and shuddering body.

“There you go,” He cooed, voice a low, tender growl. “Cry for me, pretty thing.”

He kissed your temple softly, before trailing his lips along the set of tears that slipped down your cheeks.

Your chest rose and fell in stuttered waves, limbs limp and trembling beneath him. Every inch of you throbbed, overstimulated, but not satiated. Not completely. Because his fingers were still inside you—slow now, gentler, curling with reverence as he coaxed the last pulses of your orgasm from deep within.

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, slick with sweat and tears. And when your lips parted, your voice came out cracked–rasped from the inside out:

“Fuck…” You breathed, “That was–God, that was good…”

The Void stilled for just a moment.

Then his smile returned–sharp and cold and devastatingly pleased. He leaned back to look at you, eyes glowing with that eerie celestial light, drinking in your wrecked form.

“You liked that,” He said softly. Not a question.

Your hips shifted involuntarily, and your breath hitched. His fingers were still inside you, still nestled where you were slick and twitching around him. He pulled them back slightly–just enough to make you whimper.

“I knew you would,” He murmured. “But that?” His eyes darkened. “That was only the beginning.”

Your eyes fluttered open, still glassy, still wet.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your throat–then another, lower, near your collarbone.

“I think I can make you come a few more times,” He whispered against your skin. “Or make you beg louder. Or shake so bad you forget what planet you’re on.”

You whimpered, the sound caught halfway between arousal and disbelief. He was still moving–slow, hypnotic thrusts of his fingers, shallow and wet, punctuated by the brush of his palm against your clit.

“I could do it again,” He offered, voice molten silk. “Right now. Just like this.”

You moaned, legs twitching under him, your nails digging into his back–into smoke and shadow that somehow felt like flesh.

“Or,” He continued, pulling back just enough to let you see the tilt of his grin–wolfish, dark, almost giddy with the hunt. “We could go deeper.”

His free hand slipped between your bodies, trailing down.

You followed his gaze down to where his other hand was reaching–toward the shadow that made up his lower half, that strange blend of form and nothingness, unreal and solid all at once. His fingers curled into it like mist–like he was parting smoke–and then, impossibly, flesh formed. Real. Heavy. Hard.

You gasped, eyes widening, your thighs tightening reflexively.

Because he wasn’t just teasing anymore.

He was becoming, and your breath caught. You felt his fingers slipping out of you.

“I told you,” He purred, watching your face intently, hand now slowly stroking himself to full form. “I’ll let you pretend.”

His hips pressed closer–just enough that you could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, thick and cold against the sensitive inside of your thigh.

“But this part?” He whispered, mouth brushing yours. “This is ours…”

He rutted slowly once against you, just to make you feel it–slick from your own release, heavy where it nestled against your folds. Not inside. Not yet.

“I can make you see stars,” He said, and this time there was something almost reverent in his voice. “But only if you want it.”

You looked at him–at those impossible eyes, that cruel mouth now softened by the barest trace of awe. You swallowed hard, still trembling from the last orgasm that hadn’t quite left your body–and yet, your breath was already quickening again.

Your lips brushed his as you whispered, “Let’s try.”

The moment the words left your mouth, the world seemed to shift.

The Void moved faster than thought–one moment he was kneeling over you like a storm, the next he was lifting you effortlessly into the air, your body limp and pliant in his cold hands. He cradled you with ease, his strength vast but controlled, like gravity bent to his will. And then he sat.

Pulling you into his lap.

You landed straddling him, thighs trembling as you folded around him, knees bent on either side of his hips, his chest flush against yours. It was an impossible contrast–intimate, meditative, sacred–and yet soaked in power, in shadow, in lust. Your legs wrapped around him, feet tucked behind his back, body completely enveloped in his. His arms cradled your waist, his hands spanning your lower back and hips like they were made to hold you this way. The cool weight of his cock pulsed against your core–thick and solid now, slick from your arousal and his own precum, perfectly aligned with your entrance. But before he moved–he looked at you.

Really looked.

Glowing eyes drank in your flushed cheeks, your sweat-slicked skin, your trembling lips. Then, one hand reached up–slowly, reverently–and gripped the hem of your nightshirt.

“Off,” He murmured.

You raised your arms, and he pulled it over your head with one smooth motion dropping it off the side of the bed.

His breath–if it could be called that–hitched. Visibly. Audibly.

He stared like he hadn’t just undressed you–but like he’d uncovered something holy. His palms rose reverently to your chest, cool thumbs brushing softly over your nipples before flattening his hands to feel the curve and weight of you. You gasped, arching slightly, the contrast of his chill against your overheated skin enough to make your breath falter.

Then–he leaned in.

And sank his teeth into the soft underside of your breast.

Not hard. But deliberate. A nip that sent shockwaves down your spine, followed by the cold, wet drag of his tongue as he licked over the mark he left behind. And then he sucked. Deep. Long. Obsessive. His mouth sealed over your skin with a hunger that made your thighs clench tighter around his hips.

Another kiss. Another bite. Another bruise left behind like a brand.

His voice, muffled against your chest, purred, “You’re mine for tonight…But I want you wearing me for days…”

His hands gripped your hips, adjusting the angle of your body until the head of his cock slid against your folds–slow, teasing friction that sent a tremble rolling through you both.

He rutted upward once–just enough to make your breath catch and your slick spread over him in a glossy smear. He groaned softly, dragging the thick head of himself over your clit and down again, never breaching–just letting the sensation throb between you.

“Feel that?” He asked, his lips brushing your nipple before he kissed it again–wet and possessive. “You’re making me this hard… Just by looking like this. Crying like that. And you still haven’t taken me inside.”

You whimpered, shivering against him, your forehead pressed to his shoulder.

He pulled back–his hands trailing along your sides until one gripped your ass, fingers spreading the flesh like he owned it, while the other slid up your spine and settled flat against your back. Cold. Claiming.

Then, his mouth curved into something wicked at your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” He whispered, voice dark silk, low and promising. “Nice and slow. Let you feel every inch sink in while I hold you like this–while I make you forget who you were before I touched you.”Your body responded before your words could. Your hips rolled forward–seeking. Inviting.

He smiled.

And helped you lower yourself.

You gasped–both of you did–as the head of him breached your entrance. You felt him twitch against your fluttering walls as he pushed in, inch by inch, thick and ice-slick and infinite. The stretch was sharp, hot despite his coldness, and your fingernails bit into his shoulders as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck—” he choked, his voice breaking for the first time. His hand on your back raked downward–fingertips dragging along your spine like he was trying to anchor himself to your heat. “You’re so—tight. So wet. It’s like—fuck, it’s like drowning in fire…”

He sank in deeper, inch by inch, until your thighs trembled and your moan broke open against his skin.

His mouth pressed to your temple, to your jaw, to your shoulder–his lips and teeth grazing every part of you he could reach as he bottomed out, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

One hand held you at the base of your spine, the other gripping your ass tight, grounding you as you both breathed through it.

“I’ve waited eons to feel this,” He whispered, kissing the tear-tracks on your cheeks as your bodies finally stilled–locked together, shaking, throbbing, full. He just held you there–trembling, locked around him like your body had been sculpted for this exact moment. You could feel every inch of him inside you, feel how he throbbed cold and thick against the fluttering pulse of your inner walls. Your forehead was pressed against his shoulder, your breath stuttering in and out of your lungs as your body adjusted to the invasion, to the way he filled every aching space inside you.

Then his hand slid higher–up your spine, over your shoulder, until it gripped the back of your neck.

“Lift your head,” He commanded, voice dark silk wrapped around barbed wire.

You obeyed without thinking, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.

“More,” He growled. “I want that pretty throat bared for me.”

You arched your neck–slow, trembling, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat to him. The movement made your body shift around him, made your inner muscles clench, and he groaned like it took effort not to slam into you.

“God, look at you,” he whispered, reverent now–hungry. “So obedient. So fucking beautiful like this…”

Then he leaned in–and dragged his teeth down your exposed neck, going to the little space right where your jugular notch is, the soft dip where the mark would be hidden beneath a shirt.

His bite sent lightning down your spine–sharp, claiming, undeniable. You cried out, arching into it, your hips shifting involuntarily around the thick stretch of him still buried inside you. And then his mouth lifted from your skin, and his voice rasped against your throat—ragged now, edged with something more dangerous than control.

“I’m going to leave a mark there,” he growled. “Where only I will know. Where he will never dare to look.”

And then his hand–still braced at the back of your neck–scraped down your spine.

His nails weren’t blunt. Not human. They dragged like talons, cold and precise, raking over your skin in slow, deliberate lines. You gasped–half in pain, half in stunned, coiling pleasure–as red-hot welts bloomed in their wake. Your back arched, offering more, shivering for more, even as your throat formed a soundless whimper.

“You feel that?” The Void purred, voice low and taunting. “That’s not his touch. Bob could never do this to you.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into the slick cold of his not-skin.

And then, you said it.

“Bob…”

You felt the growl before you heard it. A deep, guttural noise vibrated from his chest and into yours. His hands snapped to your hips, fingers digging hard into your flesh as he slammed up into you–one hard, vicious thrust that ripped a sob from your lips.

“Say it again,” He hissed. “Say it while I fuck you like he never will.”

“Bob—” You moaned, desperate, wrecked.

He thrust again. Harder. Sharper. The sound of your bodies colliding echoed off the walls.

“Say it like you mean it,” He snarled, thrusting so deep your breath left your lungs.

“Fuck—Bob, yes—”

His rhythm turned brutal–deliberate and punishing, like he wanted to carve himself into your memory one thrust at a time. His grip on your hips tightened until it bordered on bruising, dragging you down to meet every savage snap of his hips.

But you weren’t passive.

You moved with him.

Clawing at his back. Grinding down. Letting your lips ghost over his neck, whispering, “You’d never touch me like this if you were really him.”

He froze. Just for a second.

And you took it.

You rolled your hips, grinding down, deep and slow—until he moaned.

His grip faltered. Just a touch.

And you smiled—broken, breathless, wild.

“You hate it, don’t you?” You gasped into his ear. “That I’m still thinking of him. That even while you’re inside me, I want his hands.”

The Void snapped.

He flipped you again, this time with no gentleness, slamming you down onto your back and dragging your legs wide around his waist. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, and he drove into you with a snarl.

“Say his name again, and I’ll make sure you never stop shaking,” He growled, hips rutting into yours with devastating force.

“Bob—” You cried out, defiant and desperate.

And he fucked you harder.

Flesh and smoke. Fire and ice. The rhythm of him was relentless now–like he wanted to break you open and live inside the pieces.

His hand released your wrists only to grab your throat, tilting your face toward his as he hovered above you, his glowing eyes wild and endless.

“I could make you forget who he even is,” He rasped. “I could fuck you so deep you only remember me.”

You moaned beneath him, arching up, mouth open and shaking.

But your whisper cut sharper than any scream.

“Then why do you still wear his face?”

He froze.

The Void’s eyes flared–bright and blinding, rage and lust and something else fracturing through them.

Then he slammed into you.

And again.

And again.

No words. Just motion. Just force.

You cried out–louder now–legs wrapped around his waist, arms clawing at his back as he fucked you like he wanted to erase you.

And all you could do was sob his name–

“Bob—Bob—Bob—”

Until the only thing left between you was ruin. You couldn’t tell where the line was anymore–between pain and pleasure, between him and Bob, between your own cries and the desperate slap of skin against skin as he drove himself into you, unrelenting, and grinding. The bed rocked beneath you, headboard thudding rhythmically against the wall, and your fingers gripped the sheets like they were your last tether to this world.

His body–cold and massive and utterly inhuman–pinned you to the mattress, his cock grinding against your cervix with merciless precision. You were gasping. Choking. Drowning in the force of him, and still, you begged.

“More—please, more—”

His hand released your throat only to slide up, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. You couldn’t look away–not from those twin galaxies of void-light, those pale endless pits that saw everything.

And still, you moaned, “Bob—”

Something inside him snapped.

His mouth crashed into yours–devouring. Teeth and tongue and cold, silken fury. He kissed you like he wanted to brand you from the inside. Like he wanted to replace every soft memory of the man you loved with something brutal and monstrous.

And you let him.

You felt his hand slide between your bodies, slick with sweat and your own release, and then his thumb was on your clit again–pressing, circling, wrecking. It was too much. Too much.

“Come again,” He growled, breath ragged now. “Come while I’m inside you. Come while you scream his name.”

You tried to fight it. Tried to last.

But your body betrayed you.

Your back arched, a broken sound clawing out of your throat as your walls seized around him–tight, wet, desperate. The world fractured. Your vision went white. Your soul splintered.

And you screamed.

“BOB—!”

The Void shuddered–his whole body jerking above you like he felt that cry inside him. He snarled against your mouth, hips snapping once, twice—and then he came with a sound like a god falling.

He didn’t moan.

He groaned, deep and guttural, his cock twitching violently as he spilled inside you–cold and endless, filling you with something that didn’t feel like seed, but like starlight and sorrow and shadow. You felt it in your bones, like he was pouring the universe into you, and you were too full to hold it all.

You lay there–limp, splayed, twitching beneath him. Your thighs trembling, your chest heaving, your voice cracked to nothing. His body slumped over yours–heavy despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely real. His mouth pressed against your temple, breathless and cold.

For a moment, there was no sound.

Only the echo of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then–

He kissed you.

Soft this time. A brush of lips over sweat-damp skin. Reverent. Almost… mournful.

“I felt it,” He whispered, voice raw, his hand smoothing up your ribs, cradling your side. “When you said his name.”

You swallowed–barely able to lift your head.

“I know you wanted it to be him,” He murmured. “But I made you come like that.”

Your chest rose and fell beneath him, still trying to catch your breath. He shifted–still inside you–grinding just once more, like he wanted to remind you of who had taken you.

“I made you cry. I filled you up. And when you’re lying awake tomorrow, remembering how your body shook around me, how your thighs wouldn’t stop trembling–I want you to remember that it was me. Not him.”

Your eyes fluttered–dazed. But you didn’t fight him.

You didn’t correct him.

His body finally softened, pulling back slightly. His hands cupped your face again–his fingers gentle now, brushing hair from your damp forehead. His glow was dimmer. Quieter. Like a storm that had passed.

“You’ll wake up in a few hours,” He said softly. “And this will feel like a dream.”

You blinked.

He leaned in–kissed the corner of your mouth.

“But your body will remember.”

Then he was gone.

Just like that.

Vanished into the shadow he’d emerged from, the cold lifting from the room like a ghost fleeing dawn.

And you lay there alone–aching, shaking, legs still parted, chest still rising in broken little gasps.

Your bed was wet with sweat. Your throat burned.

Your lips still tingled.

And between your thighs–you could feel him. The stretch. The soreness. The echo of every thrust, every word, every impossible truth.

And worse–

The only name in your mouth…

Was Bob.

——————————

The room stayed cold even after he was gone. The shadows thinned, but they didn’t leave—not entirely. Not the way you needed them to. Not the way your body needed to pretend they hadn’t coiled around you and taken.

You stayed in the bed for a while–numb, ruined, staring at the ceiling while your breath evened out in small, ragged hiccups. The sheets were tangled around your thighs, soaked with sweat and something colder. Your legs ached. Your throat was raw. Your lips still felt the press of his.

Eventually, you sat up. Slow. Careful. Your body protested with every movement. Your thighs trembled when they parted. The ache between your legs was still sharp. Deep. Your skin pulled tight across your spine where the claw marks lay–raised and hot, stinging in the silence.

You didn’t bother covering yourself. There was no one in the room. No one to hide from. No one but yourself.

So you stood.

Naked.

Shaking.

And walked toward the bathroom.

The ensuite light was harsh when it flickered on. Your eyes burned as they adjusted. You blinked a few times, reached out with a trembling hand, and braced yourself against the edge of the sink.

Then you looked up.

The mirror didn’t lie.

Your neck was littered with marks–some small, like whispers of bruises blooming beneath your skin. Others were deeper. More deliberate. A bite just above your collarbone, swollen and red, already darkening. Scratches raked across your shoulder blades. Finger-shaped bruises on your hips.

And lower…

You pressed your thighs together. A slow throb pulsed between them. Not just soreness. Memory.

You stared at yourself for a long time. Chest rising and falling. Eyes wide and hollow. A stranger’s reflection wrapped in the echo of your own desire.

And then you turned the water on.

You didn’t wash like someone scrubbing sin away. You didn’t cry beneath the stream. There were no cinematic gasps or moments of clarity.

You just showered.

Quietly.

Efficiently.

Water warm. Hands gentle. You cleaned yourself like someone who knew there was no washing him out. Not really. His fingerprints were inside you now. Beneath the surface. Carved into your bones like frost.

You stepped out twenty minutes later. Toweled off. Dressed in the softest pair of sweatpants you owned and an oversized sweater that used to belong to Bucky–you wore it on days where you were feeling down. You weren’t sure if today qualified.

Your hair was damp. Your neck stung. Your thighs still trembled when you walked.

But you opened the door anyway.

You stepped out into the hallway.

The early morning compound light was a pale gold, spilling through the windows like it always did. You could hear coffee brewing in the common kitchen. The low murmur of Ava and Walker arguing over cereal. The sound of normal.

You walked forward, bare feet silent against the cool floor, your breath caught in your throat–

And then you saw him.

Bob.

Standing a few feet away. Slouched against the hallway wall in flannel pajama pants and a black hoodie, a mug in one hand, the other rubbing at his tired eyes. His hair was messy, cowlicked from sleep. His expression soft and bleary, like he’d just woken up.

He looked up at you.

And smiled.

Gentle.

Warm.

Untouched.

“Morning,” he said softly, nodding at you.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t been inside you just hours ago. Like he hadn’t made you scream his name until your voice gave out. Like he didn’t still live inside the stretch of your aching body.

Your mouth opened.

But you didn’t say anything.

You just nodded back.

“Morning.”

He walked past you with another sleepy smile, mumbling something about getting more coffee, and disappeared around the corner.

And you stood there, alone in the hallway, wrapped in a sweater two sizes too big, your thighs still sticky from the night before–

Wondering how long it would be before you stopped pretending it had been a dream.

Or if you even wanted to.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Obsidian [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds (The Void) x reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob loves you, but he’s trapped by his own fears and silence. Void, the shadow of his pain, confronts you with the burden he carries—leaving you scared and unsure of what comes next.

warnings: complex emotional themes, mental health struggles, ambiguous supernatural presence, mentions of intense psychological tension, choking (not in the good way, lol) mild language, no explicit violence or sexual content.

masterlist part 1 part 3

Wait for a part three (and final) titled "cobalt" soon with the resolution of this focusing on Bob!

Several days had passed since that night with Sentry, but the memory of it had not faded.

Sometimes it returned in the form of a fleeting image: the liquid gold of his eyes, the contained weight of his gaze, the impossible calm he'd brought with him. Other times, it returned as an awkward silence between Bob and you. One neither of you could name, but one that felt more present than any conversation.

You hadn't mentioned anything to him and had tried, as best you could, to maintain a normal demeanor around Bob. The conversation with his alter ego wasn't something he was aware of, so bringing up the fact that he was in love with you would have felt strange and invasive. Of course, as the days went by, you began to notice tiny actions that hid in the everyday and revealed the feeling.

Sentry wasn't lying when he told you Bob was watching you all the time. Not in a stalker way, of course, but the truth is you'd caught him staring at you more than once when he thought you were distracted.

At times, it even seemed like he avoided you. You thought maybe he didn't know how to handle his affection, which was why he preferred to stay quiet and distant. But little by little, you gained ground. After discovering that he seemed more shy in groups, the times you approached him were often alone, usually to talk about trivial matters.

Some days, you were kind enough to leave a treat in the cupboard for when he had a sweet tooth. You made his tea, shared your meal, or helped him with chores.

However, his signals were too confusing. One day he was laughing with you, chatting like never before, his eyes shining with joy. The next, he barely said hello to you in the morning, spending all day in his room, and his glances seemed to carry reproach rather than tenderness. You couldn't tell what was going on in his head, or why his ambivalent behavior toward you, but you were trying your best. To be patient. To wait for him to be ready, as the golden boy had said.

On one of those afternoons, you didn't expect anything to be different. You were sitting on the floor, one leg tucked under you and the other stretched out, while you idly flipped through a report you'd found on the table.

Bucky was on the couch, lying sideways, one leg dangling over the edge. He held a steaming mug and spoke leisurely, with the raspy voice of someone who'd spent the day giving orders.

“…and when we opened the door, the guy was eating cereal. With a half-assembled rocket launcher on the table. As if that were the most normal thing in the world.”

“Cereal?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Cereal. With banana. And without milk.”

“That’s his real crime.”

“The real crime was him pointing the spoon at me like it was a gun.”

Your laugh was instant, clean, so natural that John—who had just walked in with a bottle of water and a towel over his shoulders—stopped for a second to listen.

“What are you two laughing about?”

“Bucky tells me about a weird guy with a rocket launcher and…”

“Cereal,” John finished, tossing the towel over a chair.

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

The soldier nodded.

“Bucky froze when he saw it. I thought the guy had brained him out.”

“I was just processing the scene,” Bucky defended himself, smiling. “Sometimes it’s harder when there’s no blood. It confuses me.”

“And what did you do?” you asked John.

“I took the spoon away. I offered him oatmeal. And I handcuffed him.”

You laughed again, louder now. You leaned your forehead against your bent knee, still laughing, and when you looked up, Bucky was already staring at you. Not in a stuffy, awkward way. Just… attentive. As if watching your laughter was something worth memorizing.

“You should let me go with you sometime,” you said. “Sounds like fun.”

“You wouldn’t survive,” John murmured, with a half smile.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because you'd befriend the cereal guy before we could arrest him.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Bucky added. “She has that look that says, ‘I’m listening to you, but I’m really analyzing your weaknesses.’”

“What I have is a good memory,” you replied in a mocking tone, “And a high threshold for human stupidity.”

John laughed and plopped down on the couch next to you. He offered you the bottle, which you accepted without hesitation. Bucky gave you a knowing look.

“You see? That’s why we want you around. You have a tactical spirit.”

“And because you're small. Everyone makes the mistake of dismissing you as a threat,” John added.

“That’s true,” you said, raising the bottle in a toast. “My real secret weapon.”

Bucky chuckled softly, more to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, not intending to be overheard by everyone, he said:

“It’s weird talking to you. I don’t usually laugh like this with anyone.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, smiling softly.

“You should do it more often. Even if it’s not with me.”

He looked down for a second, almost blushing.

And across the room, Bob turned the page. Again. Without having read the previous one.

He didn't look directly at you or participate in the conversation, but he felt everything. The natural flow of your laughter with them. The ease with which Bucky made you let your guard down. The way John touched your arm to emphasize a joke.

He wanted to get closer, but the more he thought about the idea, the more absurd it seemed. It wasn't that any of the three of you were doing anything wrong, it was just... you being yourselves. You could speak calmly, fluently, as if you didn't even have to think about what you were saying. Bucky was a more than experienced super soldier. Walker was another super soldier, although younger, a little more charismatic than his partner. And you seemed happy listening to them. Admiring them.

After a while, you noticed Bob get up from his seat, put his book on the table, and walk toward the hallway. You thought it was strange.

You would have liked to follow him, even without knowing the reasons for his departure, but you thought maybe he wanted to be alone. You never suspected anything had bothered him. There was no reason to think so.

When night fell, things got complicated.

Lying in your bed, you felt restless. At first, it was mild, as if the air in your room had thickened. You'd tried to distract yourself by reading, scrolling through something on your phone, or simply wasting time between empty notifications, but you couldn't focus. You felt a subtle buzzing, like static electricity seeping into the edges of your thoughts. The room was silent, and yet, something vibrated in the air as if you weren't alone.

You convinced yourself it was exhaustion. You tried to sleep, but when you couldn't, you resorted to some insomnia pills that had been forgotten in a drawer on your counter. It took you almost an hour to fall asleep.

It was in the middle of the night that you felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. You woke up without warning, your chest tight with a surge of fear. Then you saw it.

It wasn't an apparition, nor a clear voice. It was a presence. Cold, like a shadow creeping under a door. Like an absence so absolute it ended up being more tangible than any body. You didn't know if you had closed your eyes for a moment or if the room had darkened on its own, but something in you recognized the energy before your mind could name it.

The room had no open doors, but it didn't matter. Because Void didn't just walk in. He flooded in. Sneaking into your room the same way he did into your mind: stealthily, without asking any kind of permission.

“Who’s there?” you stammered.

The question was awkward. You already knew the answer.

“You still pretend not to know.”

The voice sounded deep, not guttural or monstrous… but soft, too soft. Like torn silk.

“You’re not here,” you whispered. “I must be dreaming. You… can’t.”

“But here I am.” A pause. Then, more slowly: “Like all the thoughts he tries to bury.”

You felt it then. The oppression. The way the air seemed to lean in one direction, as if something invisible was breathing with you. Your skin prickled.

"What do you want?"

“Nothing. Why do you always think I come here for something?” A shadow darker than darkness itself moved across the wall, as if testing the limits of space. “I just came to see you. To understand what’s so special about the thing that keeps me contained.”

“Bob…”

“No. I’m not Bob. He has nothing to do with this.”

For a moment, the shadow moved closer to the edge of the bed, as if it could materialize, but still refused to take shape. You breathed heavily.

"He's sick with you."

"Don't say that."

“Why not? Because it makes it sound… twisted? Like loving you hurts him.” He laughed. It was a hollow sound. “Well, yes. It does.”

You stood there silently, unsure whether to move, whether to speak. Void continued.

“He looks at you as if you were an unattainable promise. As if simply getting close to you is a betrayal of what he believes you deserve. And yet… he can't help it.”

“I’ve never asked him for anything,” you replied. “I don’t… I’m not doing it to hurt him.”

“I know. That’s why it hurts more.”

You felt the mattress give way. Not because of the weight of anything corporeal, but because of the way the darkness seemed to thicken. As if a faceless presence were sitting next to you.

“I saw you laugh today. With them.”

He didn't say their names. He didn't have to. That's when Bob's withdrawal made sense in your head.

“So easy, so comfortable. Dazzled. As if you were part of their world. As if they understood you.”

“They are my friends.”

"Of course."

The sarcasm was palpable.

A shudder ran through you as you felt him closer. Not physically, but… emotionally. Breaking through an invisible barrier you didn't even know you had.

“He loves you, you know?”

“You shouldn’t say that.”

“And why not? Because I'm not him, right? Because you're uncomfortable with the truth coming from a monster.”

A silence.

“Do you think he’s the only victim in all of this? No. He represses. He holds back. He keeps quiet. But all of it… everything he can’t tell you, everything he won’t allow himself to feel, he throws at me. Every thought that shames him, every desire that makes him hate himself, every image of you in his head that he can’t shake off—I carry it.”

Suddenly, you heard his low voice, even closer. That calmness in his speech hurt more than a scream.

"And you know what the worst part is? He does it without guilt. As if I don't feel anything. As if I'm just a pit to dump everything that breaks him. All the shit he can't deal with."

You swore you felt his gaze. But not like Bob's. Never like Bob's.

“I hear everything. I feel everything. He just looks down. But inside, he's screaming. And those screams, he leaves them for me. While he smiles at you, he vomits his guilt at me.”

There's a pause, as if measuring how much more he can let go without breaking.

“Every time he tells himself he doesn't have the right to touch you. Every time he imagines what it would be like to touch you, to kiss you, to have you... and then hates himself for wanting it. Every time he punishes himself for feeling what he feels. He throws it at me. He forces it on me.”

A shadow slid up your arm. You didn't feel a hand, but you did feel a slight chill, as if something were barely gliding over your skin. It wasn't lascivious. It was… analytical.

“And having you here, in front of me, I see you so soft… so alive.”

A shiver ran through your entire body.

“You can’t touch me”

“What if I don’t want to touch you?” his raspy voice spoke. “What if I just want to understand why he thinks he can’t have you?”

You turned toward the void. There was no face. But you felt it as close as if it were breathing on you.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because I exist for him. Because he breaks himself in two so he doesn't love you too much… and yet he loves you more than he can bear.”

A long, uncomfortable silence.

“And you don’t do anything. You just smile. You speak softly to him. As if it doesn’t hurt. As if he could stand it.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You were sincere. First, Sentry came to tell you to love him back, and now Void came, scolding you that any attempt to do so was only hurting Bob.

“Maybe nothing. But what if I told you that every time you talk to him, you make me stronger?”

His words slid like blades wrapped in velvet.

“Because you can’t love a man who hates himself.”

And then you felt it. The shadows rose. Like invisible fingers, like branches of smoke that lightly tangled around your arms, your waist, your hips. He was touching you—if you could even call it that—in the way only a lover is allowed to. You couldn't pull away; you didn't know if it was out of fear or because, in some sick way, his caresses were enjoyable.

An inexplicable force compelled you to lie back on the mattress so he could continue exploring you. You felt those fingers—cold and sharp—ride over the soft flesh of your breasts, covered by your pajama top. It wasn't a gentle touch. It was a strong, hard… possessive one.

You held back a moan, one that would have revealed both pleasure and fear, as you felt his presence near your warm core; he spread your legs wildly, gripping your thighs just enough to tease, but not satisfy.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this? Not the pleasure. The stillness. The silence of your body breathing next to his. And knowing it won’t be real is what shapes me.”

There was silence. Then you felt as if he were breathing against your lips.

“He likes you,” the raspy, thick voice made you shiver. “But I need you.”

You were unable to say anything. His hands, still planted firmly on your body, began tracing the curves of your sides up your chest. They ended at your neck. They didn't hurt at first. But they chilled you. And then... they began to squeeze.

"What are you doing?"

Your question went unanswered. A second later, you began to breathe heavily. His presence surrounded you. The invisible hands weren't physical, but they choked you just the same. Not out of force. Out of guilt.

Desperate, you raised both hands to try to free yourself from his grasp, but it was useless. It wasn't something you could touch; it was beyond the tangible. The pressure seemed to come from within, as if your throat were closing on its own.

"Stop…"

“Are you scared now?” his voice softened, as if he truly regretted something. The lack of air made you close your eyes. “It’s not you I want to suffocate. It’s hunger. It’s myself.”

He confessed in your ear. You wanted to ask him to stop, but there wasn't enough air left to form a sentence.

“But you are so close…”

The whisper dissolved into the air like smoke, and then the silence became absolute. Not the silence of a still room, but the silence of an abyss containing all the unspoken things.

The shadows did not retreat.

The cold wasn't just on the surface anymore: it was inside you, spreading through your ribs like a dark tide that was slowly draining you. It wasn't painful. It was worse. It was the sensation of being sucked in.

There was no face. There was no breath. But you could feel his desperation enveloping everything.

The pressure on your throat fluctuated. It wasn't constant, as if he were hesitating. As if every attempt to pull away from you only dragged him deeper into his need to have you near.

Your numb fingers tried to find something to hold on to. A corner of the mattress, the seam of the sheet, anything. But there was no anchor possible when emptiness was what sustained you.

Soon the suffocation, though not complete, became constant. Air came in drips and drips. Your body began to give in to fatigue. And you couldn't even process the situation enough to feel afraid of dying.

It was right there, at that edge, that you felt him stop. The shadows flickered. As if on that last line, where only surrender or destruction remained, he didn't know which to choose.

Then he let you go.

Your breathing returned suddenly, raspy, clumsy, wet with tears you didn't remember shedding. Your hands trembled. And he was still there. Not moving.

The shadow seemed hunched. Surrendered. You might even say resigned.

“He’ll wake up again without knowing I was here,” you suddenly heard. It had become just the echo of a voice in the room again. “But you… you won’t forget.”

He stood there for a few more seconds, wavering, suspended between shadow and reality. Then he began to fade away little by little, like smoke carried by an invisible breeze. The cold in the room gradually dissipated, but the emptiness it left behind continued to throb in your chest, deeper than any visible wound.

You were left alone, trembling, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Fear tangled with worry, and although silence returned, his presence continued to pierce your mind.

You didn't know what would happen to Bob, or what part of him had been trapped in that darkness that now seemed to have visited you. But you did know that, for the first time, you felt more lost than ever.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @calzone-d @jessyimpala @p34ch-tr33 @meiluu

[bamjio]

❝ 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗽. ❞ .⊹˖ᯓ★. ݁₊ stalker; bob Reynolds.

you're just like an angel.

His hands, gently calloused, cradled your face—admiring every feature sculpted in your peaceful slumber. Your room was cloaked in darkness, the somber night resting quietly—yet the moon peeked through your curtains, casting silver light upon you like brushstrokes on a canvas. You were the universe’s muse, his muse.

He knelt at the side of your bed, not out of mere admiration, but reverence. As if you were a Goddess—because to him, you were. From your words, your voice, your beauty, your soul—everything. You had this uncanny way of pulling him from the void and into something gentle. Something hopeful.

But who could have known—Bob Reynolds was a nobody. The world never gave him space to breathe. He was overlooked, shoved aside like a ghost wandering in daylight. His life whispered that he was no-good, a mistake, forgotten. All but you—you looked at him like he mattered. You spoke to him like he was seen. You made him believe that perhaps, for once, he wasn't broken. You were the light in the pitch. His clarity. His pulse.

His eyes roamed over you, not with hunger—but with awe, tracing the poetry in your stillness. Fingers brushed from your cheek to your hand. Your skin—soft, celestial. And in his mind bloomed the tender dream of you and him, where affection was mutual, and love was allowed. He longed to kiss you gently, to gift you with a thousand small devotions.

His eyes never sought anyone else. The first time you said his name, he memorized it like a hymn. It nestled in his memory like warm verses. Others said his name like it was a burden—but you, you spoke it like a song. Like it meant something. Your voice was heaven’s echo, even in sorrow. Especially in sorrow. Even when tears painted your cheeks and you trembled against him—he swore your voice could calm storms.

But truly, everything about you was like that—extraordinary.

And he wished—no, prayed—that maybe he could be special too.

But hell—who was he kidding? He was just a ghost in your orbit. The moon never shone for him. Even so close to you, light refused to grace him. And maybe that’s why his longing turned sharp, desperate. Because if he could not have the sun, he would become the night that holds it. If he could not bask in your light—maybe, just maybe—he could be the eclipse to your moon.

Creep, radiohead.

First time making a blurb, kinda nervous

I don't like the way I made this, not used to this kind of writing (which I believe is called blurb?? Educate me chat) and this was so rushed istg, I'm a really slow writer as u can see guys, so apologies in advance if this isn't good!!

After random disappearances and unmade promises, I'm back and will probably disappear again !! Feel free to critique me or give me ideas, I'll tryyyyyy my bestest to do it bbs.

[darnell-la]

SUDDEN INTEREST

pairing: dark!perv!owen taylor x first year college!reader

summary: Owen and y/n have never had a connection. From her first two weeks back from college, the two had spoken more than they had for the long years they’ve known each other. Y/n didn’t know why he’d be everywhere she turned. She soon found out when Owen came back to the parking lot after everyone left for home.

warnings: dub con, perv (stalks), stalker, plotting, no consent given, rough sex, man handling, begging, baby trapping, forced breeding, etc

note: some may not like this story because of where the plot is based (a church), so scroll if it would make you uncomfortable.

DO NOT READ IF SA MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

Coming back home from college seemed like a great idea to y/n. She had missed her family, friends, and the activities the small town had for her. The first week, everything seemed sweet until Owen Taylor came back from Puerto Rico.

She and Owen had never had a close friendship, even though they’d see each other every Sunday and a couple of times during the week.

Y/n tried telling herself everything that had been happening was a coincidence, but after a while, she’d catch him staring. Sometimes she’d even go off alone somewhere just to see if he’d show up, and every time, he would.

Even tonight, y/n had stayed back after everyone left, and not even a few minutes later, she heard Owen’s car drive into the parking lot. He had just left, but he turned around to come back. Why was that? She’d always ask.

“Want some noodles?” Owen asked as he came through the door. “Uh, I guess,” y/n said before following the man into the crush kitchen. Something in her gut told her to perhaps go home and see him with people around, but she didn’t want to be rude.

“Do you even eat these?” Owen asked as he boiled some water for the two. “Sometimes,” y/n said, watching as he grabbed two cups of noodles from the cabinet. “Yeah, well, these are my favorite brand — Don’t have these in Puerto Rico,”

Y/n slightly chuckled as she leaned into the counter, trying not to seem too shy or nervous, but it was hard. They’ve never interacted so much throughout the years as they have in two weeks. It’s almost like he continues to see and speak with her.

“Welp, they’re done,” Owen said as he poured the hot water in both of their cups before handing y/n her own. “Thank you,” she said as she stirred her noodles to get the flavor throughout the cup. “Tell me how it tastes,” Owen said as he began eating his.

The younger girls hesitated but eventually tried taking a bite of their food. Sadly, it was so hot she had to spit it back out from the mild burn.

“It’s too hot,” y/n said as she placed her cup down, and Owen laughed to himself. “C’mere, let me see,” the older man said as he made his way towards y/n. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” y/n said, avoiding eye contact, but Owen soon turned her face towards him with his soft touch.

“C’mon, just a look. Wanna make sure you don’t need ice on your tongue,” Owen slightly squished y/n’s tongue, telling her to open up her mouth. It took her a second, but she eventually did. “Stick it out,” Owen demanded in a whisper, and y/n obeyed.

As y/n stood there with her mouth wide open and tongue out, she couldn’t help but look up at him. She had nowhere else to look. She’d even catch him staring into her eyes for a little while before inspecting her tongue once again.

“I think you’re good,” Owen said, making y/n close her mouth slowly, but his hand stayed on her face, rubbing her cheek softly as he kept his eyes locked with hers. Y/n wanted to look away, but couldn’t. It’s like she was stuck from how nervous she felt around him.

Without warning, Owen Taylor, an older man her parents would never accept for her, leaned into her face until his lips touched hers. He took his time, but slowly began moving his mouth all over hers to make her kiss back, even if it was slightly.

Y/n’s hands gripped the older man’s wrist, but she pulled away to keep herself steady as she closed her eyes, frozen with no idea what to do.

Within seconds, Owen began kissing y/n’s lips roughly. So roughly that you could hear his heavy breathing. It’s almost like he was in a rush, but for what and why?

“Mhm hmm,” Owen groaned under his breath as he quickly took his jacket off. Before y/n could think, the man began taking her thin jacket off. Their lips had disconnected y/n stayed still as he moved her around to take her jacket off. The look on her face screamed confusion.

“C’mere,” Owen said once again as he grabbed y/n’s upper arm and pulled her to a room with a couch, table, and TV. This is where she usually hangs out with her friends. “Sit,” Owen demanded as he let her go, slightly pushing her.

“O-Owen, I think I should go home,” y/n said as she went to get up, but the man stepped in her way as his hands fumbled with his belt. No words were said, just a stare as he blindly unbuckled his belt.

“O-Owen, seriously,” y/n said, trying to move to the other side, but all he did was the same thing, which was step in her way. Y/n looked up at the man, then down at his crotch, seeing how much his hard-on poked through his jeans.

Y/n’s head spun as she thought to herself. She isn’t really into anything sexual, yet Owen won’t let her leave as he stood in front of her, getting ready to flash her. She didn’t want to see him, so why was he getting ready to show himself?

Owen huffed as he unbuckled his jeans, pulled his jeans down a bit before digging in his pants to pull out his member. Y/n’s heart dropped at how thick, long, and veiny he was.

“Don’t tell me Mrs. Y/n here hasn’t seen a dick as big as mine yet,” Owen smirked as he moved his lower body closer to her face, making her back up. “Owen, stop, I — I have to go,” y/n said, now finally getting up to her feet, but that didn’t last for long.

The older man grabbed y/n and threw her back onto the couch before hovering over her. “Owen!” Y/n shouted as she lifted her upper body, just for it to be pushed back down. “I know you know I want you, y/n. I know you leave to see if I follow. I know you see I want you,”

“No- Owen, stop this, I-I have to go home,” y/n stuttered as tears began filling her eyes. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You’re an adult now. You can spend a little quality time with me.”

Y/n hadn’t pieced everything together until the man ripped her panties enough for his length to rub up against her folds.

“No — No, Owen, please! Please, don’t do that!” Y/n begged as the man spat on his hand before rubbing it all on himself. “Stop crying, y/n, and take me. I need this,” was all Owen whispered into the shaky girl's ear before forcing himself through y/n’s folds.

The younger woman threw her head back with a cracked moan as the man’s cock stretched her entrance out with one good and long push.

“Holly shit,” Owen cursed as his hands dug into the couch. It had been a long time since Owen felt a pussy this wet and tight. Even though his wife loved having children, he just never quite loved having her. They never connected, but by the way y/n squeezed around him, he just knew this was meant to be.

“O-O,” y/n sobbed as his name died in her mouth. “You sound like an angel, y/n. So fucking good, baby — Just so fucking good,” Owen huffed as he thrusted his hips, now pounding into y/n to continue hearing her cries and pussy make a mess all over him.

“C-Can’t,” y/n cried, words still dying in her mouth as she tried pushing away from him. All Owen did was take one of her legs and wrap his arm around it before pushing it back so that he could dig into her deeper than before. He wanted her to feel every inch he had been waiting to give to her.

“Owen, please…” y/n tried begging, but nothing was stopping him. He needed to feel and fill y/n before she left. It’s the only way she could repay him for leaving. Unless…

“I might just come back with you, baby. Stay in your dorm every day, waiting for you to come back from your classes so I can be there to pleasure you- Touch your body like it’s never been touched before.”

[sillygoose067]

Soft (and Hard)

This is based off of a coversation I had with a friend last year about her boyfriend and I just thought it was so comical that I needed to write something about it.

Dick Grayson x Inexperienced Reader

You lay curled against Dick’s side, your head resting lightly on his chest. Afternoon light spilled gently through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. The quiet was comfortable—no need for words—just the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear and the distant hum of the city.

Your fingers traced aimless patterns on his shirt as he scrolled through his phone, one arm draped around your back, anchoring you in place. You felt calm but your mind kept drifting back to the same question, twisting in your stomach like a secret you wanted to share.

Finally, you swallowed hard and broke the silence. “Hey.”

He looked down at you with that easy, half-smile—the one that always made your heart stumble. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, cheeks warming. “Can I… see it?”

His brow lifted in amusement, lips twitching. “See what? My report card?” He grinned. “I’ll warn you—I wasn’t exactly top of the class in math.”

You buried your face against his chest and laughed quietly, but forced yourself to look back up, eyes flickering down to the area between his thighs. “No. I mean… you know.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, then laughter bubbled up. “Ah.”

“I’m just… curious. You’ve had experience, and I haven’t. Sometimes I catch myself imagining things and getting scared. Maybe seeing it will help—make it less scary.”

His smile softened, kindness shining in his eyes. “You’re allowed to be curious. And you’re allowed to ask.”

He shifted slightly, lowering the blanket, and with a quiet grunt, shimmied his sweatpants down just enough to reveal himself. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it—the size was surprising, even softened like this. He was thick, with prominent veins running throughout, bulging out of the smooth skin. Long and almost reaching his bellybutton from the position it was in currently.

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, a mix of wonder and worry. “If this is how big it is when you’re soft… how am I supposed to… fit it in when it’s hard?”

Dick froze for a beat, then laughter spilled from him—rich and genuine.

You flushed. “Hey! I’m new at this.”

He grinned and leaned back a little, leaving himself exposed just enough. “Look,” he said, voice gentle, “you can ask me anything. No pressure, no judgment.”

You blinked, relief slowly trickling through you. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” His hand cupped your cheek, warm and steady. “I know it can be awkward, but questions are good. Better to ask than guess. I’m here.”

You swallowed and took a breath. “Does it hurt? When you get hard?”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, if I’m tense or not careful. But usually, it’s just… natural. Nothing to be afraid of.”

You nodded slowly. “And how does it work? I mean… how does it go from soft to hard?”

He laughed quietly, clearly amused but patient. “It’s about blood flow—when your body responds to touch, to thoughts, to feelings. The blood rushes in, and that’s what makes it stand up.”

You pictured it, intrigued. “So, like an engine revving up?”

“Exactly,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And like any engine, it needs time and care. You don’t just jump into full throttle without warming up.”

You smiled and nodded in understanding, the knot of nervousness loosening in your chest. “Thanks. For being patient.”

“Always,” he said, pulling his pants back up and holding you close again. “No rush.”

[gonehuman99]

My Reason 4

Yandere Miles Miller x reader (2.4k words)

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Tw: DUBCON

Warnings: dark Miles Miller, dubious consent, power imbalance, mentions of drug use and trauma, emotional manipulation, oral (female receiving)

Summary: Miles Miller is the kind of man who prays before he touches you. But he touches you anyway. Fleeing a broken life, you find a different kind of cage in Miles — a hotel clerk whose quiet kindness masks a possessive obsession. What begins as shelter turns slowly into surveillance, into dependence, into something that doesn’t quite feel like love… but doesn’t feel like safety, either.

★★★★★

Your knees hit the ground near his makeshift bed. He grabs your shoulders, pulling you closer. You can't make sense of what's happening. Your heart starts to beat a little faster. You glance around the room more. The picture of the woman to your right starts to look… familiar. A slight resemblance to Miles?

His head is in your neck. You can feel a faint dampness in the curve where his face rests. His arms wrapped around you. You can feel his chest rising, a noise coming from his chest—a slight whimper.

You pat his back, half comforting and half signaling to him to back off. He's so desperate for you. In a way, you are almost disgusted. He's crying. Yes, you comforted him at his lowest at the very beginning, but now it’s unappealing. Maybe it's the new context of the situation. Now you find him deplorable.

You can't help the gesture on your face—a wrinkle in between your eyebrows. Your lips are threatening to curl and reveal a flash of teeth.

You grab his upper arms, prying yourself away. Just far enough to look at his face. His eyes are wide and foggy. His chin shakes. His shoulders are hunched, making him seem smaller.

“Miles…” you say slowly. “What's going on?”

He swallows. “I… I need it. I need an escape,” he whispers to you.

You shake your head. “An escape from what?”

“It helps me forget. Forget the things I saw.” he looks away, seeming to focus on a crack in the ground. “The things I did”.

For the most part, you knew he was in the war. You knew he felt some guilt, but you were never given all the details. You never wanted to pry, fearing he would block you off. On the rare occasions you did talk about the war, his jaw would wind tight, and a film of haze would cover his eyes.

“I'm not the man you think I am.” his voice is barely audible.

You're right, you think; I didn't think this was what you were up to, but you don't say that to him.

Growing up, your parents and the people around you were conservative in their view. Those who participate in such activities are considered criminals in your hometown, and you held the same opinion, but now, someone in front of you made you feel different. This man didn't make you think criminal; rather, you felt immense pity.

“Say something…” he finally lets your arm go, his shaking hand grabbing at yours. “Please…”.

What can I say, you think?

“Help me,” he says urgently. “I don't want to be like this,” his voice breaking.

A weight settled in your chest. “Ok…ok. I think we can do something about this”. You give a short nod.

His shoulders seem to relax, and a small smile touches his lips.

______

Miles was different. He disappears and then reappears, seemingly clearer, and then gone again. You told yourself he was getting better; you want him to get better. Meanwhile, the hotel clings to you tighter. Your responsibilities are growing. Now, you're the one cleaning and making coffee. You didn’t think it was possible that the hotel could be even lonelier, but with Miles gone…

A ringing and the sound of the large brown doors being opened. You see a woman. Clean looking, polished compared to you. You wore the extra uniform that was kept behind the desk. It was ill-fitting and tight at the same time. She carried two large pieces of luggage by her side, and even though she looked more polished and clean compared to you, she reminded you of yourself; she carried an uncertainty and a bit of hope on her face.

Her heels click as she walks on the stones leading to your desk. She pauses as she eyes you.

“Welcome,” you introduce yourself as you force yourself to remain as cheerful as you can.

“Hello, I'm Claire... I'm looking for a room”.

“Of course.” you leave your desk. You give the same speech that Miles spoke when you first got here.

She nods, and her eyes dart around the lobby before they settle on your face. “Are you always alone here?”

You tilt your head. You open your mouth before closing it shut. Never, at any time since you arrived, did you think to openly question the loneliness.

“I mean,” she says gently, “it must get lonely. Managing this whole place by yourself.” She glances around, maybe to see if someone else might appear.

You shake your head and continue your smile. Deep down, it unnerves you. How can she read you so well? “Well, ma’am, I can help you sign in. The hotel has two options: California and Nevada”.

“I'll take California,” she says softly. It's the pricer option. You get her ready, and she signs the ledger. “You do a wonderful job at maintaining the place.” Her tone is sincere, with a hint of concern. You can't help the chill that runs up your spine.

You have never had a chance to see many guests. Maybe there is something that unnerves them when they arrive, but they always leave as quickly as they come. She turns around, her heels clicking on the worn stones. A brief connection vanished with her. You were alone again.

______

A day after Claire leaves, things turn back to normal. That's how you figured it was.

You finish mopping the grounds. And then you knock on the door right behind the desk, the door that hid Miles when you found him. You tug on your uniform. When you don't hear a response, you sigh, “Good night, Miles.”

You leave the coat and walk out of the lobby. The night makes you feel paranoid. The sounds of the crickets make you feel like you are in one of the few horror movies your parents allowed you to watch.

You get ready for bed—with a nightgown on. You stare up at the ceiling and roll to your side. You feel exposed and watched. You steady yourself and sleep alone on your mattress.

______

A dip in your bed and the low creak of the springs stir you. Not enough to jolt you awake but enough to pull you from the depth.

You feel a presence beside you.

Your eyelids are heavy. It feels impossible to keep them open. Each time you do manage to keep them open, the figure grows clearer.

Its Miles.

His pale skin glowed even in the dark. He reaches out a hand, his fingers brushing over your cheek. You try to pull away, but your body is so heavy.

The bed groans. He sits on the edge with you, his fingers continuing to brush your cheek. His breath is hot as he leans down. He's almost trembling. As you get more awake, you start to notice the look in his eyes. He looks rabid, an animal in a cage. He bites down on his lip. He looks like he is trying to hold himself back. His fingers continue to trace your jaw. He's gentle, but there's a certain urgency to his movements.

Your body is almost fully awake. You squint, trying to focus on him. You open your mouth, then close it; you lean away from his touch and force your hand to grab his hand and pull it away from your face.

He lets out a choked whimper and jolts back. He's breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He fidgets on the corner of the bed.

“Please…” he whispers, “don't pull away.”

"Wha... what are you doing?" you manage to say groggily.

Using all your core strength, you finally lift yourself up. You turn on the light next to your bed. Miles flinches from the brightness, and he comes into full view. He's sweating, his skin glistening, his hair is a mess, and his shirt is crumbled. He looks unhinged.

"Miles," you whisper as you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I need you,” he says hoarsely.

“What do you mean?”

"I'm trying to get better, I really am... but I..." he shakes his head. "When I'm near you… it's the only time the noises stop."

“What noises?” you scoot closer to him. He looks to be on the verge of tears.

The noises. You can infer their meaning, but you don't voice that out loud. You don't want this, at least not like this, but you know what’s coming, and you don't pull away from Miles when he leans in to give you a kiss.

He’s holding your hand as your lips make contact. He pushes you down with a soft shove; it's not a lot of force, but your back practically bounces down the bed.

His lips are soft. The first time you did this with him, he was trembling. It felt like you were the one giving him something, but now his hands are everywhere, trembling not with fear but with desperation.

His hands land on the straps of your nightgown. You took your time to lower your own bra straps when you first got together, but now Miles almost yanks them down.

He pulls down, and you suck in the air as the wind hits your exposed chest. Your arms fold instinctively, but he takes hold of your forearms, prying them down.

He quickly unhooks it and tosses it aside. You gasped. His mouth lands on one of your buds, the flick of his tongue a wet pressure you recoil from as he sucks on them. Your pulse pounded. He moans into your chest, and you tangle your fingers into the back of his head, grasping at the soft hair, pulling not to encourage him but to pry him off.

His moans grow louder. He finally pulls away with a wet pop, his lips swollen and red—a cold, damp film on your chest where his mouth had been.

He looks feral, his eyes dilated and unfocused. He pulls down harder on your nightgown. “Please… I need more”.

Reluctantly, you shift onto your knees on the bed, slowly peeling the nightgown off, letting it fall before slipping out. You remain only in your panties, the only modesty left.

Meanwhile, without taking his eyes off you, Miles begins unbuttoning his shirt, pulling so hard that one of the buttons flies off. He gets off the bed to take off the rest, only remaining in his loose blue boxers. His erection already tenting underneath the fabric.

He climbs back on the bed, kneeling between your legs and crawling towards you. He grabs one of your calves, anchoring himself as he presses a kiss.

He's digging his fingers into your flesh. His eyes are fixed on your panties, and his breathing is heavy and uneven as he presses kisses along your calf. He moves up and kisses the inside of your knee, pulling them apart. Higher and higher he goes until he reaches your inner thigh.

You don't say anything. All of this is way too much. You want this to stop. Maybe under normal circumstances, this would be fine, but this isn't normal. Miles doesn't seem right.

“You…you want this, don't you? You do. You have to.” he rasps. He hooks his arm beneath your thigh, lifting it slightly as he buries his face in your crotch, inhaling deeply. He presses his face into the fabric of your panties, kissing and sucking through the material.

His nose pushes against your clit. His hot breath dampened the thin material.

“Miles, look at me. I don’t think this is a good idea. You don't seem well”.

He freezes, his face still buried. Then, slowly, he lifts his head up. His eyes meet yours. They're glassy, his eyes so dilated the blue in them almost gone.

You shake your head and sigh. You grab his head, trying to pull him up, but he doesn't budge.

“No,” he growls lowly. It's as if someone flipped a switch. His grip on your thigh tightens, and he shakes his head. “You said you’d help me. That you’d make me feel better”.

"Miles... I meant that I can help you get better. Not that I would make you feel better." you shake your head.

He ignores your words, pulls down your panties in a swift motion, and before you can react, he buries his face in between your legs. You gasp, and your head falls back toward the ceiling. His tongue pushes inside you roughly. He's kissing and licking like it's the only thing that's keeping him sane.

You scoot back, pushing with your elbows and heels to move back from his advances. His hands grip your hips tighter, holding you in place. His tongue is relentless. The slurping and his muffled moans filled in the silence of the room.

His hips rock into the mattress, humping it like a dog as if he couldn't control himself. His nose presses against your clit with each movement.

You feel yourself get wetter, and he spreads your legs farther. The creaks of the springs intensify with his speed. You can tell he's getting close.

And then it comes. You orgasm, and you feel your walls clenching. Your hands shoot down to grab Mile's hair, pulling. A loud moan is released from you.

Miles groans against you, his tongue still deep in you. Perhaps the sudden pull of his hair spurs him to chase his own release.

He gasps, and a slight tremble of his body tells you he's finished. He collapses in between your legs; he slowly lifts his head away from you. A wave of disgust washes over you.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the red from his neck creeping up to the back of his ears. He slowly starts to pull away, his body shaking slightly. With his back turned away from you, he pulls himself into a ball. His knees to his chest, he begins rocking.

You can't help but let your eyes wander to the wet stain on the bed. You grasp at the sheets next to you, covering yourself. You continue watching him. There was something about the way he moved that made you pause. He reminds you of a small child. Maybe there was a reason no one was around him. Why, he seemed to be alone even when other people came to this hotel. He was just too needy. No one was forcing you to stay chained to this hotel. You left home for a sense of freedom, so why stay here?

[sarahsmi13s]

Friday Night Moonlight

for @roosterforme 's rocktober event!!

pairing: robert 'bob' floyd x reader (slight high school au)

characters: bob floyd, reader (nickname dolly), beckett fletcher, misc high school kids

warnings: language, cheating, high school drama, pining, best friends to sorta lovers, the ending may be rushed, there's a kiss, fighting, toxic boyfriend, please let me know if i missed anything

word count: ~4.5k

a/n: the song that inspired this is the nitty gritty dirt band's fishin' in the dark, and taylor swift's you belong with me music video (she was born in the 80's 😅) em, i want to apologize for getting this up so late! i got bogged down with whumptober, but i'm here!

summary: having been best friends since childhood, bob knows just what you need to feel better after a nasty break up

You and Bob had been neighbors your entire life. Your bedroom window had been right across from his since you were both toddlers and you played in your backyards while your parents drank coffee or watched the football games on Saturdays.

Also, you and Bob both had cousins that participated in Friday night events so you often played in the grass, completely ignoring the game and just enjoying getting to stay up past your bedtime. You even wrote notes in sketchbooks and talked through your windows when you were supposed to be in bed.

And even now, in your senior year of high school, you still did that.

Talking through your windows like you were passing notes in class, which you also did and you never once got caught.

You also got to see parts of each other you never let your parents see, and never spoke about outside of your sketchbooks.

The sad parts, the angry parts, all of it stayed on pieces of paper, hidden between two pieces of cardboard and bound together with flimsy metal spirals.

Until tonight…

Bob glanced up from his homework, looking towards your window to check on you and your AP Calculus homework. 

But all he found was you on your feet, pacing around your room as you heatedly spoke into your phone, unoccupied arm flailing about as you argued with whoever was on the other end. It was no doubt your boyfriend.

Ah yes…  Your boyfriend, the star running back on the football team — Beckett Fletcher.

Bob and Beckett weren’t the fondest of each other. Bob knew you deserved better and Beckett was threatened by your childhood best friend. But they tried their best to not let you catch on, sending one another looks when you weren’t paying attention.

But Bob wanted to tell you to leave, tell you that Beckett is no good for you. Because if Bob ever saw you on your phone and you were either crying or angry… chances were it was Beckett on the other end of the line.

And Bob despised it.

Ever since you were children, Bob never liked to see you sad. He always found a way to cheer you up, whether it was getting you to laugh or just simply distracting you with a cartoon and cuddles on the couch.

He found a way to take your pain away.

Watching you intensely as you talked, Bob was already reaching for his sketchbook.

Once you threw the phone on your bed and you sat at your desk by the window, you looked up and saw that Bob had a note ready. The letter’s scribbled across reading, “what’s wrong?” rather than what they usually read which was “are you okay?”

Man… you really needed to shut your curtain when you’re on the phone with Beckett.

You didn’t like Bob seeing the faults in your relationship, seeing that the foundation was cracked just so he could tell you it was a bad investment because of the unstable ground. 

You were trying so hard to keep this relationship standing, it was the only way to get over your feelings for your best friend, to forget the piece of paper you tucked away in your night stand 6 years ago… but Beckett was making it really hard.

And now you were really debating if staying with him was worth it… and Bob could see it.

Sighing, you picked up your own sketchbook and thick Sharpie, writing your message down before flipping it to show him. 

“drama, i’m just sick of it”

You were lucky that Bob couldn’t see your tears through the glass and you tried your best to keep it hidden from him by not letting your shoulders move as you silently cried. 

Bob frowned, he wasn’t aware of any drama at the school. And being the fly on the wall he tends to be, he knows a lot of the drama. So this was clearly a sign that this was internal in your relationship and exclusive to locker room and cheer practice talk, which he was not privy to as he was in band – a percussionist no less, they had their own things going on.

But even still, you liked to share your drama with him, sitting in the backyard while your parents watched the Sooners play on Saturday night. It was y’all’s thing, but over the past few weeks you never shared cheer drama with him and you both just chatted about what you both knew and then changed the subject completely to something else.

He knew something was wrong but… this wasn’t something you talk about over notes through a window, and you looked… tired.

So he gave you a sympathetic look and apologized, not happy that you just shrugged it off and gave him a less than convincing smile. But you were quick to throw up a ‘goodnight’ note, closing your curtain when you saw his note.

Bob frowned and looked at his drawer, pondering about the note left in there… a note he wrote a while back that he was too scared to show you.

Meanwhile, you turned your lamp off and collapsed into your bed, holding a stuffed bunny to your chest as you sobbed into your pillow.

Tomorrow wasn’t gonna be fun.

The next morning, you woke up looking like death hit you with a fighter jet.

You had fierce under eye bags and your cheeks were blotchy and red. Your upper lip and nose were raw from both your hand rubbing it and the tissues that were never as gentle as they claimed. 

Groaning, you did your best to cover it up, using the proper techniques your mother taught you to use with her estheticians license. You had to look put together for tonight because it was Friday and you had a home football game against one of your biggest rivals.

After your makeup was done and your hair was in dutch braids, a bow securing them together at the base of your neck with your ends curled in tight waves, you put your long sleeve uniform on. It was going to cool off once the sun went down so you needed to be prepared.

And after all that was said and done, you bid your parents a goodbye before walking out to meet Beckett at the curb so he can take you to school.

You had your license, but you didn’t have a car just yet so Bob had offered to take you to school and he did until you started dating Beckett and then you rode with him instead.

Except, you didn’t walk out with a smile on your face or that “cheerleader pep” in your step this time. No, because after your argument with him, you truly weren’t sure if he was even going to be outside this time or not.

And to your disappointment but not disbelief… your boyfriend wasn’t there.

But Bob was… your best friend was there, he was always there.

“Hey, Y/N! Do you need a lift? I’ve got plenty of room.” 

Hearing his voice in person was a bigger relief than you thought it was going to be. It was soothing for you, and you felt a gentle smile form on your face.

Instead of answering right away you walked over to him, prompting him to walk and meet you halfway.

“How are you doing? That conversation looked pretty heated…”

While his tone was gentle, Bob’s words were straight to the point. He knew that whatever was said had a great effect on you and a simple night’s sleep wouldn’t magically fix it all. 

“I’m okay. Just a dumb fight. It’s probably just his nerves, tonight is a big game and he’s got a lot riding on his shoulders,” you said, acceptance in your voice as you didn’t meet your best friend’s eyes.

Bob hated that. Hated the excuse you made for Beckett. Hated that you kept giving him the benefit of the doubt instead of just accepting that he was a shitty boyfriend.

You had been getting into more fights lately and you were either blaming yourself or excusing Beckett’s faults for the fact he was stressed out. 

Even if he was stressed, Bob wouldn’t ever make you feel like this. He would never make you feel like this, period, he loved you too much.

“Are you sure? You seem to be having a lot of fights the past few weeks, does it have to do with the drama you told me about?”

The way you sucked in a breath and played with the bottom of your uniform skirt told him all he needed to know.

“Dolly…”

Your head whipped up at the mention of your childhood nickname. Bob had given it to you because you carried around your bunny doll everywhere when you were little. He rarely used it anymore, so when he did – he was being serious.

“Bobby look I-”

Suddenly a car pulled up, “Hey babe, sorry I’m late.”

You looked over, seeing Beckett, “It’s alright Beck.” You looked at Bob, “I’ll see you later. Bye.” Bob waved, “See you later, Y/N.” 

Beckett sent Bob a glare as you got in the passenger seat before driving off as soon as your door was closed. Bob just rolled his eyes and huffed before getting in his car.

“So, what were you and Bob talking about before I pulled up?” Beckett asked as he drove away. You shrugged and buckled your seat belt, “It was nothing Beck.” He huffed a little, “Sure it was.” 

You scoffed but just shook your head and rested your hand on your fist. 

Beckett had really been bugging you about Bob lately. Asking you questions all the time. Accusing you of being with Bob when you missed a call. 

You knew him and Bob didn’t get along. But he had rarely ever accused you of having feelings towards him until recently. It was completely random because it came out of nowhere. It was causing so many fights and the stress was blowing small things way out of proportion.

It was killing your relationship.

The school day went by fairly quickly. It usually did on Fridays because a pep-rally in the middle of the day usually made the second half go by faster.

Most students went home to get ready for the game, maybe changing an outfit or doing makeup touch ups before coming back to the stadium. But not everyone did. The kids participating in the night’s activities, the football players, cheerleaders, and band members, stayed on campus or close to it so they weren’t late. Usually just going to grab a bite to eat or just hang out until it was time.

Bob usually went with you to go eat and hangout before you got with Beckett. But now he just chilled in the percussion room and practiced until he needed to get ready.

He tried to tune out the color guard next door, not real keen on listening in to their drama. But this time, something piqued his interest. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re kidding! There’s no way!” Mariah yelled, her voice going through the thin walls.

“Apparently so, it’s sad honestly. And Tamara knows that he’s still with Y/N!” Paige exclaimed.

That. That statement was what really got Bob’s attention.

Tamara was on the dance team, going there after not making it on the cheer squad. She had never been mean to you per say but it was pretty clear that she wasn’t your biggest fan.

And now it seems like she went straight for the throat and was keen on making your life hell your final year of high school.

“I know, and Y/N doesn’t even know… I hope she finds out soon or Beckett actually breaks up with her first. She’s clearly taking it hard.”

“They fight all the damn time, of course she’s not okay, Mariah.”

Bob clenched his fist, he was seething. 

This, this was the drama you were talking about and this was the reason Beckett kept picking fights with you.

He shook his head and pulled out his phone, he needed to talk to you.

You sat in the field house, smiling at Beckett as he drummed on your thigh. 

You both managed to make up before the game. Apologies on both sides and spending time together to really talk it out. So, now you both could focus on the game and not worry about your relationship.

“Fletch, c’mon, we gotta go get dressed,” Taylor, Beckett’s best friend said, not looking at you as he pointed to the locker room. Beckett nodded and kissed your cheek where his number was temporarily tattooed on your cheek, “I gotta go baby.” You nodded and kissed his lips, “Good luck, Beck.”

You smiled at Taylor and walked over to the cheerleaders.

“Dude, you have to tell her. Or I’ll tell her,” you overheard Taylor whispering. “Taylor, chill out. Everything’s fine.” 

You feel your heart drop, thoughts filling your mind before you shake them away. 

“Yeah Tamara told me-” Megan started before Jayme cut her off. “Girl, shut up.” “Why? I thought you wanted to talk about her and B-”

“Hey, Y/N, I see that you and Beckett are getting along again,” Kaitlyn said, once again cutting Megan off. 

You nodded, “Yeah, we had a decent conversation, talked a lot of things out. Still not smooth, but less rough than before.” Alicia nodded with a smile, “That’s good.” 

You nodded again and then your phone went off with a text. 

Meet me in the band room parking lot by my car. There’s something I need to tell you.

You sucked in a breath, “Hey, guys, I’ll um, I’ll be right back.” “Okay, practice can’t start without you. Don’t keep us waiting,” JJ said with a teasing smile. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I shouldn’t be too long.” 

You jogged out of the fieldhouse and down to the parking lot where Bob’s car was. 

Bob was leaning on the hood when you got to him.

“Hey, what did you-”

“Beckett’s cheating on you.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your heart was practically pounding in your ears now. 

“W-what?”

He stepped towards you and gently grabbed your arms as he looked down. “Beckett’s cheating on you with Tamara. Mariah and Paige were talking about it in the band room… I’m so sorry Y/N…”

You blinked at him before shaking your head and pushing him off of you, “No… No, you’re wrong. You’re lying.” You backed away from him, still shaking your head. “You’re supposed to be my friend. Why are you lying to me? Beckett wouldn’t–” Bob stepped forward desperately trying to get you to listen to him but you stepped back with your arms outstretched, “Don’t touch me.”

Bob's face fell, “Dolly… please. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

You shook your head, “He wouldn’t do that!” “I’m not lying! I heard them talking about it!” Bob defended, honestly feeling hurt that you thought he would do that to you.

You throw your arms up, the words you overheard in the fieldhouse flooding your mind and the things Beckett had said about Bob before.

“Look, Robert,” you hissed and began to talk with your hands. “I get that you might be jealous of Beckett, but lying to me and saying shit like this won’t help you.”

Your stomach churned nauseously as the venom slipped back down your own throat as Bob’s anger shifted into hurt and betrayal behind his lenses. You had never believed the words you just spat at him. Never once did you think that Bob would lie to you because he was jealous. He had never done it before, so why would he do it now?

But you were conflicted and you were hurt. You felt embarrassed that it seemed everyone knew what was going on in your relationship and you didn’t. You felt used and gullible. 

You knew you were misplacing your hurt and anger. Bob was just trying to help. But you had made up with Beckett and it all felt right again, Bob just happened to be the one that took off your rose tinted glasses. 

But before you could rectify yourself, Bob clicked his tongue and hung his head as he rested his hands on his hips. 

“You wanna be like that? Fine. Be like that, don’t believe me,” he shook his head and dropped his hands to his side. “You know where to find me when it crashes down on top of you.”

All you could do was cross your arms and look down at your white cheer shoes, which only made him scoff before he shook his head again. His shoulder collided with yours as he walked past, knocking you off your footing a little before going back inside the bad room.

You could only sniffle before shaking your head and walking up to the field house.

The game was finally over.

Your team won with, you guessed it, Beckett scoring the winning touchdown. 

You and Bob had just been thrumming with nerves the whole game. Bob was worried about you and he felt bad for just leaving you like he had instead of giving you a minute to process. But he guesses you were both acting off emotions.

You were anxious because you knew that other shoe had to drop. You just wanted to catch it before it landed on your heart. 

And even though they won, you still were anxious as you ran out onto the football field. 

“Beck! Beck! Beckett!” Taylor tried to fast walk by you as you tried to find your boyfriend. “Hey, Taylor,” you caught his arm. “Where’s Beckett?” Taylor looked down at you sympathetically before you watched his eyes flicker back the direction he came, “Y/N… I’m so sorry…” 

You furrowed your brow and he sighed before gently turning you.

And the other shoe dropped…

It dropped and sent 15 cleat studs into your heart.

There in the endzone was none other than Beckett Fletcher and Tamara Wilson making out like they had been dating for a year.

“I tried Y/N… I’m so sorry…” 

You sniffled and looked down at your grass stained cheer shoes, “Yeah because sorry is gonna fix the fact your sister is making out with my boyfriend…” Tears finally slipped down your face. “You know what, you can break up with him for me… I need to leave.”

Pulling your arm from his grip, you turned to go to the track and get your bag.

“Y/N wait–”

“Taylor, I-I can’t right now okay? I just… I need to go be with someone I wholeheartedly trust right now.”

You sniffled before wiping at your nose and running back towards the track.

Bob sighed and walked out of the band room and towards his car. He was ready to go home and just shower off the day and sleep.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked his car and opened the door.

And he saw the last thing he expected to see.

You.

You were curled up in the front seat of his car, with a mirror in hand scrubbing at your cheek with a McDonald’s napkin as you sobbed. He could see you practically shivering still being in your uniform that provided no warmth at all.

He knew why you were there and he wasn’t gonna say a damn thing. He knew better than to say I told you so or anything because that was shitty of him. 

You needed a friend, you needed him.

So, he got in and shut his door. “I have sweatpants in the backseat,” he said lowly as he started the car. “And a hoodie.” 

You sniffled and hiccuped a little, “Please…” He nodded and turned in his seat to get them from under his backpack. “Here ya go Dolly,” he said softly as he handed the items to you.

You put your mirror down and wiped at your raw, damp cheek to wipe away both tears and any remainder of that tattoo. You had taken your shoes off when you got in, so you just slipped the sweats on before wiggling your skirt down your legs. 

Wadding it up, you threw it in the backseat before practically ripping your bow out and doing the same. 

Bob just watched, patiently waiting on you and letting you collect yourself. 

“Robby I…” You started before a new wave of tears hit and you started sobbing into your hands. 

He frowned, hating the sound of you crying. But he didn’t want to attempt to coax anything out of you just yet, wanting you to just let it out. 

Gently, Bob turned you around so your back faced him. He carefully untied your ponytail before using his dexterous fingers to undo your braids. He gently massaged your head, knowing that it was a good way to calm you down.

Your sobs lessened to smaller whimpers and sniffles as he massaged the areas where you were sensitive, soothing you slowly. 

He smiled a little as you turned to face him.

“Robby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were just trying to help… I didn’t believe what I said about you being jealous. I’m sorry I said it.”

You wrapped your arms around him and he immediately reciprocated. “I’m sorry for how I reacted. I should have been more patient, and maybe I should have been more gentle with it.” You sniffled into his shoulder, “I deserved it… I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, Dolly, we’re not doing that. We’ve both acknowledged what we shouldn’t have done. We can work past it, because that’s what we do. We work together.” You nodded, “You’re right, you’re right.”

You pulled back and wiped your eyes, giggling a little when he held the hoodie out to you. You took it, trying to ignore the butterflies as your fingers brushed his and the scent of his body spray surrounding you as slipped the hoodie on. “Thank you, Robby.” 

He smiled at you, “Of course. Now let’s go, I’m sure we can hang out in the living room and watch your comfort movies.” You giggled, “You always know how to cheer me up.”

“I’ve known you for 13 years, I’d hope so,” he chuckled as he started driving out of the parking lot. You smiled over at him before resting your head against the window and closing your eyes as he turned the radio up a little more.

Bob nodded his head as he turned down your road, drumming the steering wheel as he listened to the radio. 

“You and me go fishin' in the dark. Lyin' on our backs and countin' the stars. Where the cool grass grows,” he sang quietly to himself. “Down by the river in the full moonlight. We'll be fallin' in love in the middle of the night. Just movin' slow. Stayin' the whole night through. It feels so good to be with you.”

He glanced over at you where you dozed off against the window. 

This was one of your favorite songs and normally you’d be banging his dashboard in a slightly off beat rhythm but he’d let it slide because you were so excited to hear the song.

He hummed along as he got close to your homes. But as he began to slow down he got an idea. 

So, instead of stopping, Bob drove past your houses and headed towards one of your favorite spots to go to clear your head.

Bob pulled up to and parked his car before getting out and going over to your side of the car.

He carefully opens the door and you jerk awake. 

“Ah! What the– Bobby, what’s going on?” You asked groggily as you rubbed your eyes.

“I took a detour. I figured you could use a late night trip to our spot,” he said with a playful smile. You gave him a tired smile, “Oh Bobby… thank you.” “Course, now c’mon.”

You giggled, “I can’t wear my cheer shoes, they’ll get dirty.” He grinned and opened the backdoor. “Well, it just so happens that last time we were here, you left your Converses back here.” 

Your jaw dropped, “I have been looking for these! And you mean to tell me that you’ve been keeping my shoes hostage!” He chuckled and knelt down to put them on your feet. 

Heat rose to your cheeks as he did, the action reminding you of when you were both little and you dressed up as a princess all the time and he happily played your knight. “How could you Bobby Floyd?”

“Oh hush,” he laughed as he tied them before helping you up. “Okay, let’s go.” You giggled as you closed the door and followed him to the river side.

You smiled at him as you both laid down. “C,mere Dolly,” he said as he pulled you into his side.

Smiling wider, you laid your head on his chest and sighed a little bit. “Thank you Robby, this really is what I needed.” He gently scratched your back, “I’m glad I could help.” You looked up at him, “My knight…” You trailed off as his moonlit baby blue eyes made eye contact with yours. 

Almost as if you were both on autopilot, you propped yourself up on your elbow and he cupped your cheek. Before either of you realized what was happening, your lips met.

This kiss was sweet and gentle, but it sucked the breath out of your lungs all the same.

It felt like you were connected forever, but when you pulled away it didn’t feel long enough.

Bob had turned bright pink and immediately began to apologize, “I-I– oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“Robby, Robby!” You cut him off by covering his mouth. “Hey, it’s okay. I kissed you back… I liked it… a lot.” 

He relaxed under your hand at your words and you think he’s gonna say something but he licks your hand. “Oh gross! I was trying to be sweet and you licked me!” You wiped your hand on the hoodie he was wearing. 

Bob chuckled, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He held your wrist gently as he sobered up, “I liked it too. But… I think we should wait, just because I want to make sure you’re ready…” You nodded, “I know, thank you.” You smiled and pecked his cheek. 

Laying beside him, you laced your fingers with his and rested your other hand on your stomach as you looked at the sky.

He smiled at you and watched your smile widened as you pointed to the clear night sky, counting the stars and pointing out constellations. 

The sight made Bob think back to the note in his desk drawer and a smile split his features. 

The note has waited 6 years, it can wait a little while longer.

hi, hello, thank you all for reading and making it to the end! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm so sorry this is late

top gun taglist <33: @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @nobody7102 @djs8891 @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @horseshoegirl @hangmansgbaby @mamachasesmayhem @roosterforme @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @callsign-mongoose

sorry if i missed anyone on the taglist, my list in an absolute mess right now 😂

[ratheripped]

intro!

incinerate➳ jade. she/her. 19. fromsoft glazer.

fanfic writer. music nerd. open to requests.

currently setting up my blog, be patient!

ratheripper2025 do not copy or plagiarize any of my works. please ask permission to translate.

divider: @enchanthings

[trainer-from-unova]

[saguarojaguar]

﹒📜﹒﹙ℱ𝚘𝚛 I've 𝒃𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝚊 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 too ℒ𝒐𝒏𝒈﹚﹒ ⊹﹒

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divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more | text template by @ai-haibara | bow png by @luvpngs | lighter png by @saizun | lew gif by @bradshawsbitch

[pequeno79]

“Welcome Home Sweetheart” Series| “Watch Me Make Her Mine” |

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Full vers. on AO3

After your Mom dies, you stay with three hot men - who happened to be your lovers. It goes south quickly.

CW: MDNI!!!, Sub reader, sub John Walker, Hard Dom Bob (I need to see more of this), Hard Dom Bucky, Choking kink, breeding kink, PinV (unprotected don’t do this), slapping

Bucky is wide legged, thick thighs spread on a chair as his arms are tied behind his back.

He’s shirtless, his chest chiseled and toned: making the Greek gods look lanky.

He’s wearing his tactical gear pants (from what you requested) and a gag that looks more like a mouth guard. Black with groves as it covers a portion of his face, revealing his dead-set eyes.

Those blue eyes are dark as he stares at you while John makes the final knot. Buckys bicep bulge from the restraint as John comes up rom behind him. He’s shirtless too, not as tanned as Bucky but his muscles bulging. Specifically his back,that is facing you when he walks towards a chair not far from Bucky. You see lines and dips of his back muscles you wish you could run your nails down.

If only you had more than a night….

because you would’ve marked him so good.

Johns’ legs are spread as Bob appears from the darkness practically. Dressed in his blouse that is comeptly unbottened. Revealing his six pack taht peaks out frmo his shirt. He leans over Johns shoulder, whispering sweet nothings. You watch as the outline of Johns cock becomes apparent, thickening before Bob pulls something out of his pocket—

a bullet vibrator.

You almost moan at the sight. His big hands slowly moving down John’s bulky thighs before cupping his cock. Fuck. Your entire body erupts in shivers at the sight. Two big men averaging above six feet, yet, seeing Bob dominate john makes your pussy wet.

He unbuttons the mans jeans, sliding his veiny hands into Johns pants. The moan that leaves the blondes mouth is beautiful…a sound you wish you could add to a playlist: just so you can hear it over and over again.

His blue eyes become hidden in his lidded eyes as Bob stroke shim through his pants. He leans over John’s shoulder, mouth gaping the slightest before he kisses the blondes forehead. Mouthing along his face before the hand takes him completely out of his pants.

You moan seeing Johns cock.

It’s long and thick. Sitting proudly in Bobs hand as a bullet vibrator is strapped on. Bob wraps special tape around his tip, that way it won’t hurt as he does extra cheeks. Then he comes out from behind John, dropping to his knees before—

fuck.

He puts Johns’ tip in his mouth, eyes rolling back as Johns blue eyes widen. You watch, seeing Bob on his knees and hair slapping the nape of his neck as he bobs his head up and down. Saliva, spit, and him slurping the blonde man.

It goes by so quickly, but feels like it was in slow motion. Bob sits up, standing over John before forcing ihs head back. John is malleable in Bobs hands as his mouth is forced open.

Then Bob is leaning over him, a long wet string of saliva falling into the mans pink tongue.

Your core clenches on nothing, and shit do you need them…both of them as you practically buck into the bed. When John swallows, Bob whips his head at you. You are only stripped down to your bra and panties, but his stare makes you feel like you were a sex goddess of some kind.

desired.

and dangerous.

Yet, you can’t help but quip, “Wanna take a photo? Make it last longer?”

Bobs eyes narrow, blue eyes morphing into pure darkness.

“Baby, are you gonna spread for me or rile me up?” He asks, almost rhetorically before you tilt your head. Your heart racing, “What if i rile you up?” You stand up, walking towards the man who looks one second away from mauling you.

His jaw clenches, as his eyes lower when he looks at you. He cranes his neck at you. Stepping close enough for your heads to touch, “Want to find out?” His voice is blow a whisper. Raspy and tinted with his accent. Your core twists hearing his threat.

You open your mouth but all a sudden theres a hand on your neck squeezinghard.

Lights flash in your vision. Pure control and trust ooze into Bob as you choke.

Your head titled back as you have no choice but to stare at him…and those cold eyes. “I don’t have all day to deal with your brattiness.” Thats the only warning you get before he flings you to the bed.

You yelp as your back hits the mattress with a deafening thump. The springs crying from the force as Bob crawls over you. His thick big legs straddling your lithe ones. You may not be a size zero but god do you feel like he could destroy you.

His blouse opens up more, revealing the tattoo on his pec. It’s a cowboy on a horse, and you barely have time to process it before his hand grips your chin. He forces you to look into your eyes—

“Open your goddamn legs.” Your mouth gapes from his demand before he puts a knee in between your legs and forces them open. You gasp as he lowers, no longer straddling you as he leans on his forearms. Muscles bulging in the linens of his blouse as he cradles your body.

“You want me to fuck you right?” You nod, stupidly as you hear a groan in the corner. Either from John or Bucky as Bob’s dangerous eyes bring you back to the scene.

“Well this is how it’s gonna go down.” He leans in, lips brushing against yours when he spits, “Imma treat you like a whore and you’re gonna thank me.” His hand flies to your neck, not even gripping it. Just a cruel reminder of who’s in control. Who’s controlling your every breath “Im fucking waiting.” His threat cracks through the air. Making you clench as you whisper, “Thank you…..” You pause before looking up at the brown haired man. “thank you sir.”

He snaps

His hand rips from your neck, pushing you down into the bed before his lips collide into yours. A dangerous dance of dominance as he yanks your control with his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. It licks and flicks into your wet cavern, brushing against your tongue that continues to lose the fight for control. His tongue is a strong force…a force that makes you wonder how’d it feel on your—

Bob pulls away, you gasp as he rests on the back of his knees. His big hands gripping his hard on.

You moan at the sight as your legs are wide, revealing your wet panties. When his eyes lower to the gem in between your legs, his hand is on your ankle—

—-and gripping.

You yelp as your lower body is in the air. Bobs’ hands support your back, keeping you in the air as you grip the sheets. Back in an uncomfortable arch before—-

Wet hot lips press at your covered core.

Your eyes roll back, and the first moan you let out makes the entire room groan. You know the first one is from Bucky, and you wonder what he looks like as Bob makes out with your clothed pussy.. you try to buck into his touch, but his grip is bruising.

Bobs eyes flash as they look at you, almost screaming ‘you’re going nowhere’ as you whine.

“Bob please, put your—“‘

RIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

You choke when he rips your panties right off of you. Replacing the cold air with a hot mouth. He sucks you dry like your pussy was a coveted prize: desperate and full of desire. Your moans melt into screams as bob devours you like an animal. Like you are the air gifted to him which he needs to live. His strength mixed in with his tongue makes your upper body thrash against the pillow. His tongue exploring up and down your slit, moving to the hood of your clit as jeat wraps around your body and burns you.

His mouth is nothing but pure hotness and perfection. Hands eventually spreading your pussy apart before pressing directly on your clit — tongue licking at your nerve with practiced ease.

He looks at you, mouthing against yours. “Pussy tastes just as good as it did years ago.” He leans in, his perfect nose nudging your clit. “I can have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert…” He pauses as he suctions your clit right into his mouth.

His front teeth press rub the sensitive nerve as you scream. He chuckles, “…sweetheart.” He talks into you, deep voice vibrating as a blinding white flashes in your eyes. Your back arches, forcing your cunt into his face. Your eyes roll to your head, mouth gaped in a silent scream.

Your orgasm isnt a slow burn…

It isn’t a firework.

it’s just burn.

You feel your come push out of you…sliding down Bobs wide tongue as he groans like an animal. Some of it drips off him and onto the bed. When Bob pulls away, you almost come again.

His face slicked with your release. Wetness coating his lips, face wet and messy before it drips on the bed.

Bob looks down and growls. He drops you like you’re nothing as your body bounced on the body. He lays on his stomach, hyper focused on the stain in front of him before his pink tongue licks it.

Your mouth gapes as he licks your wet droplet's from the comforter: as if it were droplet's of water in a desert.

Needed to live.

Your moans escalate in pitch as his mouth is inches away from your inner thigh…your pussy that clenches from you.

Bob is a downright slut for you.

He reaches the area of your skin dripping from your release. He makes out with your inner thigh: a warm wet tingly feeling erupting in you that makes your pussy rack with twitches.

Little do you know bob would do anything to taste every drop of you.

Your come.

Your sweet pussy.

His sweet pussy.

He growls when he licks a bold strip from your stomach up to your face. Pressing a searing hot kiss on your lips. You moan, tasting yourself before his arm reaches below him, underneath your legs.

The mattress dips before you notice familiar fabric in his hands. Once he pulls away, you soon learn that fabric is a portion of your ripped panties.

And he moves like a man possessed by his desires.

He yanks the panties into his mouth, breathing in like it was a reward as he practically shoves it down his throat. His hips bucking into the mattress as he moans like it’s your pussy yourself, dirtier making out with the fabric before your panties darken from his spit. He continues to grind into the bed before pulling away.

Bob is a mess…

….a pussy drunk mess

His hair has been ruffled and covering half of his eyes. He looks down at you, seeing the gem in between your legs before grabbing you by the waist and pushing you off the bed towards John.

His legs still spread as his cock practically purple at the tip. Aching and ready to be touched as his body drapes your back. “Im gonna let my boy have a taste of you.” He bites, smacking your bare ass with a deafening crack.

You moan as he struts towards the blonde haired man. John’s legs are wide open, revealing his touch-starved cock that twitches at the sight of Bob.

Your mouth waters, imagining what it would be like to take Bob down your throat…swallow him whole.

Bob comes into view, sauntering behind John as he leans over Johns holder.

He presses his lips to his neck, “Ready for a taste, baby?” He asks and John nods desperately.

Bob chuckles, his kiss turning into a bite before he stuffs the panties into Johns eager mouth.

Johns jaw practically unlocks as he opens his mouth to fit all of it inside.

You are shocked to see him treat only previews of you like the serum for eternal life.

His eyes roll back and he bucks into the open air. Bob chuckles lowly before kissing his cheek, a tender moment before he squeezes the base of the blondes cock.

He wraps his hands round Johns neck, gripping hard enough his neck turns red. John moans, long and pathetically as Bob jerks his long cock slowly. Yet, John’s muscles twitch as he moans louder, almost as if he’s about to come from Bobs hands alone.

Then, the brown haired mans eyes are on you. His voice below a whisper, “You like seeing me jerk my mans cock?” You nod hastily before Bob chuckles, low and practically a grumble as you hear a click and—

Buzzes erupt in the room.

“Fuck!”

John cries as if Bob stabbed him. John’s breathing restrained with your panties in his mouth as white pre-cum is forced out of his tip. It leaks down his poor aching cock that Bob continues to stroke slowly.

He laughs, slapping the underside of his cock as John screams. Bob’s eyes sparkle with pure sadism as he grips johns jaw. The blonde is forced to stare at the man in front of hi. “You better not come.” He leans in, “Or else im belting that ass raw.” He threatens before he rips the panties out of his mouth.

‘So, be a good fucking boy and wait till it’s your turn.” Johns moans are amplified and you don’t blame him. The brown haired man is taking no shit tonight. Stare deadly and cold (despite his love for you both). But the idea that in one hour he can flip the switch…go from treating you like the loves of his life to a whore makes you wet.

Johns a whimpering moaning mess. “Yes…shit…yes yes yes…I’ll be a good boy.” His lips quiver as the buzzes get louder and louder. Those blue eyes practically cross as Bob’s lips twist into a lopsided grin. “You’re fucking pathetic.” He sneers as John only nods. You hear a loud crack, the sound of skin against skin. Red forming on John’s cheek.

Bob slapped him.

And He moans louder.

Bob growls, “Open that pathetic mouth, dog.” He grits and John obeys. Looking the man dead in the eyes before his jaw unlocks, mouth wide open before bob spits directly into it.

John moans, his dick twitching as the buzzes get louder. Bob leans in, nose pressing against Johns, “Fucking.Swallow.” He demands and Johns eyes roll back before his throat bobs.

He swallows.

Bob grins, “Because you’ve been a good boy…” His hands move to Johns cock before he whips his head towards the blonde. “I’ll let you come.”

Bob’s voice is deep as sin as Johns mouth gapes. “Yes, please, let me come daddy-“

”Shit.” Bob growls as he strokes him with a pace so intense it makes your core clench. John sounds like hes being tortured as his legs shake and muscles spasm. Bob groans, low, before demanding, “Tell daddy when…tell daddy so he can take it all.” Bob makes a show of spitting into his hand before wrapping it around Johns cock and stroking faster.

John bucks his hips into the touch before dipping his head back. “Yes..yes..yes i will…daddy its happening oh shit I-“

Bob wraps his mouth around Johns tip. John lifts his head up with a shocked face. His jaw goes slack as his entire body clenches. Mouth wide and—

“FUCK!”

His orgasm makes you tremble with how hard it hits him.

The room nothing but heavy breathing and high pitched moans.

Pleas for daddy…

…Pleas for Bob as the man hollows his cheeks, practically sucking the come out of the blonde as John looks like a man possessed.

He moves like one too, pushing the dick-sucking man off him. But Bob is a man of steel as he deep throats John.

White cream surrounding the base of Johns cock before bob pulls back. Come all over his face and down his chest.

You want to lick it off, force it into his mouth before Bob demands to John, “Come clean this up, baby.” He looks at you, “Show our slut how its done.” Bob shakes off his blouse, revealing his chiseled physique as John leans in.

John’s pink tongue darts from his lips and licks stripes of white cream off Bobs chest. Bob tilts his head back, muttering, “Good boy.” Before gripping the base of Johns neck and forcing him further into his chest.

John swallows every area of come like the good boy he is. Looking up at Bob with big wide eyes, awaiting further instruction before the man grabs him by the neck and into a scorching hot kiss.

You moan at the sight, almost wanting to touch yourself seeing Bobs tongue slide into Johns mouth with perfect ease. Their make out is nothing but a fight, lips and tongue attacking eachother before bob pushes John down into the chair below him.

John moans as he falls right into his chair…forgotten as Bob walks towards you. Every step proud and confident as you can barely process him treating John like some toy.

Yet, it turns you on more, becasue Bob is showing whos control as he tilts his head, “You ready to be fucked?” He gruffs and you barely have time to protest as he unzips his jeans, sliding down his boxers with the fabric as it all falls to the floor.

Fuck.

Bobs cock is thick, and wide. The length average sized, but you just know i'll wreck your pussy in half. Involuntarily, you back away from him, but he struts towards you, cock bouncing with each step before he grabs you by the back and pushes you off the bed. You fall to the floor with a deafening thump, thankful for the carpet as you land on your stomach.

You cry before you hear footsteps behind you. Bob kicks away the bench near your bed. It scratches against the floor, your pussy clenching knowing he's getting closer to you.

Indeed as hands grab at your waist before pulling you up and on your knees. Your back arched before Bob manhandles you down to your back, ass up. He groans, low as you hear squelches from his cock along with the buzz from John. A crude harmony as Bob slaps his fat cock against your opening. You moan, and from the corner of your eye you see Bucky and your heart drops.

He looks like a physical manifestation of danger. His blue eyes look like grey and dark. His head lowered as he stares at you like a predator plotting his move…plotting his hunt as his lips snarl in a growl.

You are so distracted by him, you dont even remember feeling bob press into you and breach your hole. Your mouth gapes as you erupt in a moan. Hot on your tongue, wincing as your ears are ashamed of the slutty noises that slip from you and melt into the atmosphere. Bob thrusts into you without a warning, grabbing the globes of your ass before smacking it.

You moan, unable to support yourself as you fall to the floor. Your eyes are like a magnet with Bucky: inexplicably drawn to him as he twitches against his confinement.

Fuck.

You are being shoved back and forth with Bobs thrust, feeling the manifestation of his anger as he leans over your body, voice low. “You hear that?” He stays silent before you hear the squelch of your pussy, skin against skin, and the incessant buzz: all sounds of your deranged session.

Johns moans have melted into rough exhales, building faster and faster. You moan as Bobs fingers thread into your hair and pull. You are forced back, back arched as you look at Bob from upside down. Yet, you can still see his burning eyes as he continues, “Thats the sound of us…” He pulls you farther, as he pounds into a spot that makes you scream. He chuckles, “And this.” He enunciates with a thrust, “Is the sound of me breaking your pussy.”

His voice rattles your ears, as Bob moans lowly before forcing your head to the side: giving you a view of Bucky. His lips are on the shell of your ear, “You see him baby?”

He moans low before speeding up, “Any minute, he can break out of those chains and fuck the shit out of you.” You moan as you shut your eyes, feeling your second orgasm brew inside of you as Bob moans. Thrusts becoming uneven as strings of low groans erupt in him. But suddenly he slaps your cheek, light enough not to hurt but force your eyes open as he growls. “I think i should send a message by coming inside of you.” You choke on a moan before whining as he slows down, “While you sit on his lap.” Nothing prepares you for when he grabs you by the waist and hauls you. Your legs involuntarily bent as bob carries you across the room to Bucky.

“John come over here and watch.” Bob adds, and the room becomes ten times hotter as the buzzes stop, and John arrives near you and Bucky.

The ex veterans’ legs spread, your core clenching before Bob dumps you on Buckys lap. Your wetness is right agasint Buckys hard core. You feel his length through his tactical gear pants. The feeling is intensifying yet arousing as you clutch onto his hard chest. He hisses as you look up at him, the mask that conceals his mouth making him look like a monster. He tilts his head to the side, staring down at you with crazed eyes.

You forget Bob is behind you, Bucky’s eyes so intense as you yelp once hands grip your waist and his cock is back inside of you.

”Fuck, John, jerk off that cock while I fuck her on Bucky.” Bob demands as John moans sweetly as you see his cock inches from the three of you. His eyes find yours as he strokes himself, white beads on his pretty pink tip as those blue eyes are crazed as he jerks off.

Your entire body shivers knowing that he is watching…so many eyes on you as Bob starts to pound you, pursuing his orgasm as you are jostled around Buckys lap. A hand suddenly presses you onto Buckys chest.

Your hands reach for Bucky’s arms, gripping onto those meaty biceps — as if that could save you from Bob’s cock.

One of your hands scrap agaisnt pure metal. The sound roaring in your ears as Bucky growls, the noise muffled by his mask. Your pussy clenches on Bob’s cock as Buckys eyes that are wide and feral.

His hard on raging as your clit brushes against it with bobs thrusts. “Look at him….” His thrusts become uneven before he quips, “Look at him while I shoot my loud inside of you.” Your mouth gapes, a silent scream unfolding as Bob’s second away from his orgasm — pussy squeezing him for the arrival of his come.

Yet, Bob leans in, thrust rugged as his lips are on your ear, “Fucking scream in his face, show him how I’m the first to fuck you after all these years.” Bob moans again, similar to before: high and throaty. Buckys eyebrows lower and those eyes shift to a dangerous green.

You know Bucky is losing it, a man fucking you in his lap, feeling your pussy dripping for him as he can only watch. Waiting for the moment to strike like a predator. Bucky’s stare gives you shivers, and makes you clench harder on Bobs cock that assaults your pussy. “Baby, im gonna come in you….imm mark you and you gonna tell ‘em who’s responsible.” Bucky eyes threaten you,almost daring you to let him.

Bobs moans become louder and louder, along with Johns who’s cock is inches away from Buckys face. You watch as Johns body clenches just in time as you feel bobs muscles tightens.

Bob squeezes your tit, thumbing the nipple as the pain makes your orgasm appear on the tip of your tongue. “Who am I?” He bites, and Johns moans get higher in pitch before you tip your head back, “Robert Reynolds!” Your voice tapers into moan as Bob growls. “FUCK” And all you see is white.

You feel him fill your tight pussy with him…all of it as your walls are coated in white cream. Your ears ring as your orgasm hits you like a train: wrecking every part of your body as you clench down, sucking the remaining come from Bob as the man growls lowly.

John strokes his cock once, twice, thrice before strings fly everywhere. White paint soaking the wall next to Bucky and sprinkling all over Buckys nose and his bare chest. John groans, abs clenching as more falls down his hand.

Bucky is nothing than a growling feral mess as his hips start to buck into you. It’s aimless as bob chuckles, pulling out of you as come drips down your leg and onto Buckys leg.

Bob groans, low before spanking your ass again. You wince before he walks over towards you, your body still arched as he kisses your shoulder.

He looks at Bucky dead in the eye.

Who only has eyes for you.

Locked onto his target.

His mission.

You shiver as Bob commands, “Lick all the come off him…starting from his legs to his face.” With that, cum trickles down his mask. The white offsetting the matte black mask.

John slowly strokes himself. Bob looks at Johns cock before stroking it, whispering in his ear, “Let me touch your cock, pretty thing.” Johns eyes roll back once Bobs thick hands cover his cock, stroking him as your core clenches at the sight.

You slide off of Buckys lab, pussy throbbing when you kiss his thigh with the cum you left.

You hear a silent groan, a twitch of his legs. But the restraints are strong…so you don't pay any never mind as you reach his hips.

And thats your fatal mistake.

You see the outline of his long slender cock. Your mouth waters as you touch it. Bucky groans like hes in pain, and you notice Bob watching you with low eyes as his hand is wrapped around Johns cock.

“You can touch him, as long as get him all clean, though.” Bob offers, voice soft and you moan looking back at Bucky. An insurmountable level of dominance takes over you….you fall into the false sense of security of the bonds as the idea that he can break free leaves you.

You dig your palm into his outline, pressing near his girth as Bucky tips his head back, groaning once more as his hips buck into you.

Yet, with your other hand, you hold him down as you use it as leverage to climb on top of him. The green eyed man’s breathes are getting heavier and heavier, morphing into dangerous growls.

But you ignore it, letting power consume you as you bite. “How does it feel to be below me?” You growl and you hear swears.

You know bob is jerking Johns cock in front of you as both men moan at your words.

You tilt your head at Bucky, rising in his lap before your hand snakes towards his neck.

John groans as you squeeze, leaning in. Buckys eyes follow you as you speak into his covered mouth. “You’re so pathetic. Writhing below me, yet…”

You grind your hips against him, feeling his monster cock on your bare folds. You moan, eyes fluttering before looking at Bucky. “…You can’t do a damn thing.”

Your other hand grabs his neck, and you hear his heart thrum like a drum. You feel him shake, riled up for you like a lion near his prey.

Ready to attack.

Yet, you whisper in his ear. “Are you gonna prove me wrong? Fuck me better than bob.”

You hear low groans from the men behind you. You lick the shell of Buckys ear, tasting his sweet skin.

“Break out of those chains and take me?” Your lick turns into bite. His cologne and arousal making your pussy clench as you smell him. You lean back, chuckling when it’s only silence.

“You’re pathetic, Barnes, you can’t do—“

SNAP

A strong metal hand is wrapped around your neck, your back slamming into the wall with a deafening thump.

[darnell-la]

ANYONE BUT YOU CAN LEAVE ME

pairing: dark!robert reynolds x thunderbolt!reader

summary: Robert wasn’t always an asshole. He was actually the sweetest person anyone could possibly meet. That was until he found out the power he held. All of a sudden, he started treating y/n horribly. After a while, she got tired of him and cut everything off. That’s when Robert got furious. Anyone but y/n was allowed to not deal with what Robert has become.

warnings: toxic relationship, verbal abuse, mental abuse, cheating (Robert on reader), jealousy, toxicity, threats, choking, dub con, non-consensual sex, rough sex, begging, crying, slapping, etc

note: this is a very dark story about Robert Reynolds, so please do not read if SA triggers you!

DO NOT READ IF SA MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

Robert was a nice man. Even after what happened in New York City, you could tell he wasn’t in control. Nothing that happened was his fault, and y/n had been by his side for months, telling him that. Sadly, after a while, Robert's fame and power got to him.

A month after what happened with Robert, he asked y/n out. Because the man was so sweet and kind, she accepted his date, and they soon began dating. It was almost perfect until Robert began feeling his highs again.

Some days, he’d ignore y/n. Other days, he’d be upset that she wasn’t giving him enough attention. Y/n forced herself to like the toxic relationship for a while because the sex was amazing. He knew how to fuck when he was angry, but everything soon got tiring.

Robert would go clubbing, come back smelling like women, and try telling y/n she was delusional. That’s when she’d show him proof of some fans that he’d seen that night. After that argument, Robert didn’t care who he was seen with.

He and y/n had never broken up despite his cheating and rude behavior towards y/n. He even flirted and continuously touched the new girl who got hired to spray paint his hair for interviews.

Robert knew he had turned into a horrible person, but didn’t care. He still expected y/n to continue her love for him, meaning if he was upset at the end of some nights, she should let him right in. Just a few weeks ago, y/n showed him that if he wanted her, he needed to start acting like it.

Ever since then, Robert hadn’t been sleeping in her room and had been bringing the hairspray girl around. The team noticed but never said anything.

Thankfully, tonight was a night y/n could try and get her mind off Robert. Her mind hasn’t been where she’d like it to be, so a few drinks were needed.

“Hey…” a familiar voice spoke behind y/n at the bar. Y/n turned around to see John, the annoying guy of the group, but he could still be nice if he wanted to. “Hey, John,” y/n said before turning back around to take a sip of her drink.

“How have you been lately? I see Robert is still talking to you know who,” John said as he sat next to y/n, genuinely feeling bad for her. Y/n was a sweet soul, and seeing Robert tear her apart, bothered him. It bothered everyone in the group.

“I’ve been alright,” y/n replied, tone dry and voice coming out like a sigh. “Hey, I know he can be a dick, but — I really think he likes you. He’s just- God, I don’t know,” John said. No one knows what has gotten into him. It’s almost like he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself.

“I don’t know either. I’ve been trying to find out for months now,” y/n said, head hanging low as she thought about the times she had tried to speak with Robert, but he’d refuse or get verbally aggressive. He had changed — A lot.

“Maybe you should talk to him again,” John suggested. Y/n sighed as she slowly looked over to Robert, who had been sitting on a couch almost all event with that girl in his lap. She hated the sight of him and her being near each other.

As y/n zoned out looking at the man, they ended up looking over towards her. His face went from a shitty grin to a straight and upset face. Within seconds, he pushed the girl off him and made his way towards y/n.

“Lord, have mercy,” y/n rolled her eyes as she turned back around towards her drink to continue drinking. She wanted nothing to do with him right now. Especially with all of these people here. This was a horrible time for Robert to try and start a conversation with her.

“And, what am I seeing here? John Walker talking to my girl,” y

Y/n had almost spat out here drink at the man’s comment. “Look, I’m just making sure my coworker is doing fine,” John defended himself. “Yeah, well, she is — Now fuck off, yeah?” Robert said as he stepped in between y/n and John.

“John, you don’t have to-“ y/n tried saying, but Robert turned around and gripped her arm. “Oh, he does,” the man said, his eyes piercing through his own. “I need some time with my girl, so don’t you be kind, Walker,” John shrugged his shoulders before walking off, hoping y/n and Robert could finally talk this all out.

“So you like cheating now, huh? Right in front of my face, too? Dead center where I can see you,” Robert said, completely confusing her. “You’re talking about me cheating? Bob, aren’t you the one kissing and touching all over a girl who has been working for you for two seconds?”

“And, what does that have to do with John Walker talking to my girl in front of my face? In front of all of these people?” Robert finally took his hand off y/n, but stayed close, barely giving her any space to move.

“That had everything to do with- Oh my god, Bob. Are you seriously excusing your behavior?” Y/n asked, growing upset within seconds. She couldn’t believe him. He had seriously gone too far with his unacceptable behaviors and thought process.

“I’m excusing my behavior because I’m the one with all of the weight on me. I’m the one with the powers of a god. I’m the one with the fans. I’m the one keeping this team together. All you do here is open your mouth for your shitty ass motivational speeches and spread your legs for guys like Walker,”

Y/n’s eyes widened at Robert’s rude words. She knew he had become a bad person, but he hadn’t rapier to her like this before. Yeah, he’d curse, but he’d never basically call her a whore.

“You’ve really changed, Robert,” y/n said as a tear rolled down her cheek. The younger woman finished the last few sips of her drink before hopping out of her chair to walk away. Before she could, Robert grabbed her by the arm again.

“And, where do you think you’re going?” He asked as he looked into her eyes. He wasn’t phased by her tears. He just wanted to make sure she wasn’t off to Walker again. He wouldn’t be able to keep himself together at this gathering if he sees them talking alone one more time.

“We’re done, Robert. It doesn’t matter where I’m going,” y/n said bravely before yanking her arm from his grip, then walking off. Robert was ready to lose control, but he couldn’t. He needed to keep himself together. Even though people weren’t watching, he knew the things he wanted to do to y/n needed to be done in private.

It’s been a good month since y/n officially broke it off with Robert. Ever since then, she had been happy. He tried to make him and the girl known for the first couple of weeks, but y/n paid no attention to it. Robert hated that.

Now, all Robert does is stare at y/n, even when the girl is on his lap. He’d watch her any time he could to try and catch her looking at them, but she never did. He felt anger when he realized y/n had seriously moved on.

Robert had even tried to flirt with y/n or trip in some corner or room whenever they were alone. He wanted to reel her in to make her care, but every time, she’d shut him down. Her hanging out with the men of the group more often didn’t help Robert’s anger either.

Tonight, y/n should’ve been at a club or bar with the group, but decided to stay home. She hadn’t been feeling good lately. She didn’t have a migraine, but a slight headache would appear out of nowhere.

Thankfully, she had the full tower to rest in alone. Or so she thought. It was so quiet. The only thing she could hear was her movie and the sounds of her eating and drinking. She felt relaxed until she heard her bedroom door open.

“So, you think you’re special now?” Robert asked, figure standing in between her doorframe as the dim lights in her room shined on him just a little. “Robert, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out with your girl and the rest?” Y/n asked.

“Decided to leave her, and come back for you,” Robert said as he walked into her room and shut the door behind him with force. “Don’t you think it’s too late for that, Robert? C’mon now,” y/n said as she lay back in her bed with no bother.

It’s not like she hated Robert, but she did feel disgusted every time she saw him. He cheated on her, verbally abused her, and manipulated her, and is now trying to get back with her after she’s been doing so good without him.

“It’s never too late for you, y/n. You’re so accepting when it comes to John and Bucky, so why can’t you be accepting of me?” Robert started his manipulative tactic, making y/n giggle to herself.

“Me and you are done, Robert. I don’t or you anything, and honestly, you shouldn’t even be in my room after what you’ve done to me,” y/n said as she turned her TV up, wanting to block Robert out of her mind.

“Oh, you owe me everything, y/n,” Robert said, now next to y/n’s bed. Y/n slightly jumped at the sudden close voice. “What do I owe you, Robert? Please tell me,” y/n said before rubbing her head at the sudden headache that came across her head again.

“I’ve been trying to get us back to how we were, but you refuse to talk to me. Especially when the others are around, so I made you stay back tonight — We need to talk,”

“Made me stay back? I chose to stay back. My head has been aching almost all day,” y/n said. “And, why do you think that is?” Robert asked, confusing y/n completely. “I put a few medication in the smooth you left on the counter. But don’t worry. I made sure it was just enough to give you a minor headache,”

Y/n almost didn’t hear the rest of Robert’s sentence after he admitted to drugging her. It’s almost like her head instantly became light headed from the shock she felt. How could he? Why would he? Was he this desperate to speak with her? After all he’d done?

“Are you fucking serious, Robert!? You can’t just cheat on me, drain me, and then force me to speak with you on your terms!” Y/n shouted as she went to get up, but the man roughly pushed her back onto her bed.

“You’re not walking away from this conversation, y/n. Not tonight. I let it slide every other night, but it’s time that shit dies. I’m tired of it,” y/n laughed in disbelief as she rubbed her face, instantly feeling a worse headache coming along.

“You’re fucking crazy,” y/n said low, trying to piece his shitty plan through her head. “I’m crazy? No, what’s crazy is my girlfriend sitting around and giggling with the same men every day. Right in front of me by the way,”

“God, you’re serious. Oh my god, I can’t take this,” y/n went to get up again, but he pushed her right back down. That’s when y/n kicked Robert as soon as he touched her.

Now the two were fighting and yelling at each other. Y/n hadn’t yelled at anyone like this ever, and Robert hadn’t shown this much anger in so long. It slightly scared y/n, but she continued to yell at him, hoping he’d just leave her alone.

“Stop fucking fighting, y/n! All I’m telling you to do is stop whoring around. That’s literally it! All you do is open your legs and it there like a fucking slut- Waiting and begging with your eyes for our friends to fuck you,”

Y/n didn’t argue back; she just continued yelling as she kicked and slapped. She wanted to get out of his grip, but almost forgot how strong he was. He was still the sentry.

Robert tried getting through her head a few more times with his foul mouth, but soon gave up and gave y/n a hard slap to her face before wrapping both of his hands around her neck.

“Shut the fuck up!” Robert shook y/n. That’s when she instantly choked and grabbed his wrists, trying to pull him off. Her powers were no match against his, and he knew that.

“Just shut the fuck up for once, okay!? Shut! Up!” Noe Robert’s hands were so tight around her neck to the point she could barely breathe. The headache she had, had gotten worse, and now her vision was slowly blurring out.

“All you do is argue with me. Just shut the fuck up and understand! — Understand your fucking place?” Y/n softly slapped at the stronger man’s arms, trying to tell him she was about to slip away, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t. He refused it.

“Are you still fighting? Seriously? You want me to show you your fucking place or something?” Robert asked, watching her lips mouth the word please, but he knew she meant for him to let her breathe.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you to sleep like I use it? Like the old days before you thought you could limit me to your body,”

Right before y/n’s eyes fully shut, Robert let the younger girl's throat go. That’s when she began coughing roughly, trying to catch air as he started ripping at her clothes. Y/n quickly caught on and tried fighting, but she was still weak.

“Robert, stop,” y/n begged with a crack in her voice, but he wouldn’t. He continued until most of her skin showed. “No,” Robert spoke before leaning into her breast and sucking on one nipple as one of his hands gripped the other, roughly kneading at it despite y/n’s discomfort.

“Robert, stop, please!” Y/n now begged, instantly feeling her eyes water. Robert was stronger than her, and he wouldn't listen. She felt trapped. She hated this, but he still continued not to care despite her begging and crying.

“You think I’m gonna let down on fucking a slut? That’s what you want to be, right? Tell me why I should let everyone else have their way with you, but I can’t,”

“I-I’ve never let anyone have their way with me!” Y/n shouted, instantly earning another hard slap to her face. “You're not learning shit, huh? Whatever I saynyou’ve done, you did! You fucked me over! You moved on! You didn’t wait for me- You just left! You fucking left me, and now? — Now, I’m going to hurt you. Just like you hurt me,”

It didn’t take long for Robert to force himself into y/n as roughly as he could. He wanted her to feel everything he could give her. The way he pounded her forced her body to jolt so hard, the wind was knocked out of her several times.

“Bobby, please- Stop,” y/n begged, hands trying their best to push him off her waist. “Now you want to Bobby me, hmm? Wanna get on my soft side? That’s not gonna happen, y/n. I’m gonna ruin you,”

Y/n felt horrible. She wanted to scream, but everything that came out was cries. She couldn’t believe her ex-boyfriend would hurt her like this. He had changed in the worst way and didn’t care. The look on his face showed how much he was enjoying this moment.

“I wanted to stay!” Y/n heard Alexei’s voice as he came through the doors with the rest of the crew. “We got kicked out because of you, Alexei,” Yelena sighed as the rest laughed.

“Help-“ y/n tried screaming, but Robert’s hand quickly came down onto her mouth, shutting her up. “Shut the fuck up, y/n, before I knock your ass out,” Robert threatened. Y/n stayed silent, but continued to kick and slap.

“Hey, y/n, did you want some pizza? We picked some up on the way back!” Ava said, and as much as y/n wanted to scream for help again, the look in Robert’s eyes shut her down quick. “Speak all you want. You know they can’t stop me — All you’ll be doing is putting them in danger,”

Robert sickeningly released y/n’s mouth, now daring her to make a noise. All y/n did was cry silently as his cock continued to thrust in and out of y/n messy hole. She condoned help but leaked all over him this whole time. He knew he worked her too good to keep her dry.

“I think she’s asleep, guys. Bob most likely too,” y/n’s heart dropped as she heard Ava walk away and continue with the others. She had a chance to be saved, but sadly, people respected privacy in the towers.

“Did you really want her coming in here? Seeing your pussy so stretched out, it might stay like this for days,” Robert’s voice stung y/n’s body. “Might just move to the other hole tomorrow if you’re still healing — Then your mouth,”

[gonehuman99]

My Reason 5

Yandere Miles Miller x reader (1k words)

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

TW: creepy behavior, photos without consent, themes of control

Summary: Miles Miller is the kind of man who prays before he touches you. But he touches you anyway. Fleeing a broken life, you find a different kind of cage in Miles — a hotel clerk whose quiet kindness masks a possessive obsession. What begins as shelter turns slowly into surveillance, into dependence, into something that doesn’t quite feel like love… but doesn’t feel like safety, either.

★★★★★

Morning.

You're awake, but you don't open your eyes. You can sense the time. The early light filters through the shut blinds and warms your face. As much as you don't want to move, your body aches —limbs begging for comfort. Still, you remain as you are.

You're not lying down on the bed—you're sitting on a loveseat, nightgown pulled on after Miles had his “event”. You feared he would cling to you, pull you back down—instead, he cried himself to sleep.

You didn't know what to expect. Perhaps a rustling of the covers or a snore, but there's nothing.

One eye cracks open. Squinting, you can make out a figure on the bed. A large lump with legs twisted, a lack of a visible head, and a body covered with pale, sprawled arms.

You lift your heavy head, inspecting the scene. Clothes lie on the ground. The light on the nightstand is still on.

You hear him then. A low groan escapes him.

Your heart jumps, no, it freezes. You hold your breath in. When nothing else comes, you peel away from the seat, careful not to activate the springs beneath you.

Still in your nightgown, you tiptoe your way to a robe and pristine white slippers laid on a stray chair and pull the strings tightly around your waist.

Using your fingers, you pry the door open. Dry heat and no wind attack your senses. You squint. You shut the door behind you with as much care as you had opening it. 

Detached from the room, you begin the slow walk to the lobby. You begin to think.

You knew you couldn't stay here; a disgust had been building since last night.

That feeling of comfort has vanished. If you leave, would Miles make it? Have a good life, I mean.

Cracks were already there when you got here, but you chose to ignore them. Miles would probably try to hold you back, but you couldn't have that happen.

If Miles stayed focused on the Hotel, managing it, a distraction, things would work out. Miles would let you leave because he was kind and because there was a fundamental need to right the wrongs of his past, whatever they were.

The lobby comes into full view. Those large, heavy mahogany doors will save you. A separate room away from Miles, a chance to gather your things— your keys, your clothes, the little money in your possession—maybe on the Nevada side. Then you can finally leave.

As you push open the doors, a melancholic heaviness settles in your chest. A realization of what would come afterwards enters you as you remember your troubles. An uncertain future. Shortage of money, no connections, nowhere to go.

Juke box off, TV off, no people, no noise. A stillness in the air, you journey to the cabinet behind the desk.

Your hands are clammy; you don't know why. It's a struggle to open the cabinet of keys.

When you do, it takes a moment to realize what's in front of you, or rather what isn't in front of you. Nothing.

It's completely bare.

Paralyzed, the gears in your mind begin to turn once more.

You blink, and walking backward, you spin. The door. The one behind the desk. You grab and shake it. You slam it with your side. When the sweat starts to pool on your forehead, you leave it be.

Under the desk, you shuffle around, looking for something—OW! You lift your hand up and see a prick on your finger. You shake it. Continuing on, you grab the small plastic case containing the knife, and you unwrap it.

You jam it into the gap between the door and its frame.

When it's done, you head to the closet.

The hallway leading to the closet is dark. It's hard to find the entrance to the closet. Your hand on the wall helps lead you to your destination.

The pounding of your heart grows with each step. You swore you would never return here. But something, let's call it a force from the universe, is compelling you.

The closet door is still ajar; maybe it can't be closed.

Hand hovers over the wood, separating the view from inside. You pushed through with a shaky hand.

A pitch black room. But you can still discern the smell of the stale, earthy mattress Miles slept on.

You lower yourself until your hand lands on the small lamp nestled on the cabinet of towels and cleaning supplies.

When that's done, you turn on the other small lamp next to his mattress. Those two puny lights help you perceive the room.

It's a mess, just like how it was at the beginning. An irrational fear rises— that whatever made Miles break for him to become like this might overtake you, too.

With the tips of your fingers, you cautiously shift the towels and linens around. When it seems like there's nothing around you, use your slipper-covered foot to move his flat, dirty mattress to the side. Nada.

You swipe your foot over the crookedly made desk, careful not to drop anything.

Finally, you cave, dropping to your knees. You move things around, taking in how things were placed so you could move them back to where they were.

You grow more desperate as time ticks by. Frustration builds. Your movements are getting chaotic.

There's so much junk. Letters, handwritten notes, and film canisters, so many canisters—was there a theater somewhere?

You grunt loudly, slamming the canister down. The lid pops open on impact.

Notes fly out, photos scatter. One catches your attention the most. Claire. The last guest you had met in this deserted area.

Her pose is high and rigid. Hair clean and polished, she's sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off her heels, another hand near her cheek, rearranging an earring—soft, diffused lighting. The wallpaper looks familiar.

You remember how she acted when she arrived, always looking around. Could she sense what you did? An inescapable loneliness, but with every action feeling amplified. Was it all contrived?

All you knew for sure was that Claire didn't take these; Miles did.

[em1989ts]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟

robert "bob" reynolds x reader smut

word count: 1.9k - masterlist

summary: bob had been helping you out by occasionally doing your laundry, but when you come back early from a mission, you find out he might've had some selfish motives

contents: panty thief bob, kinda perv! bob, m! masturbation, caught in the act, handjob

author's note: i'm so glad i have time to write again, i have so many wips just sitting in my google docs (dw one is survival of the fittest p3), and hopefully i will get them finished soon. i've been completely captivated by bob/lewis pullman for the last month but five hargreeves still has my heart dw

proofread, enjoy!

Years ago, you’d always imagined what it would be like for the Avengers to return to their glorious tower in the middle of Manhattan after a mission. Landing on the side of the sparkling skyscraper in a quinjet seemed like such an inaccessible fantasy when you were just starting out as a lowlife vigilante. 

You never would’ve imagined that years later, you would live that very life you’d dreamed of. 

The mission had gone rather smoothly, so smoothly in fact that instead of returning to the tower by late afternoon, you, Walker, and Ava made your way off the jet about twelve hours earlier than expected. 

Since the task had been completed without casualties and was rather inconsequential, Walker decided that the three of you should wait until breakfast for a mission report with the other avengers. 

“Now you can get back to your boyfriend that much faster, you’re welcome,” he had said smugly to you on the way to your quarters. 

You knew exactly who he was talking about. 

While you were still warming up to living with your new somewhat reclusive and impolite roommates, Bob was different. Yes, he was shy, but he did seem to be the most respectful of the bunch. He had his flaws but that didn’t stop him from trying to be a good person, for his new teammates and for himself. 

Out of everyone, he was the one you turned to the most, the one you felt most comfortable with. You could tell he had grown accustomed to you as well, often finding him spending time reading or napping in your room. Of course, you didn’t mind. 

Knowing how tempted he was to rot in his room, you were glad he could find comfort in your space. Occasionally, he gained the motivation to do the dishes or a couple loads of laundry, anything that would give him a sense of accomplishment, and possibly some praise from you. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Walker,” you said, exhaustedly rolling your eyes before bidding Ava goodnight as she disappeared into her room. 

“Right, he just does chores for you and follows you around like a lost puppy because he’s just a loyal teammate,” Walker sarcastically retorted as he opened his bedroom door, giving you a smirk before he disappeared for the night. 

You ignored his comment as you made your way to your bedroom, stationed farther down the hallway. Passing by Bob’s room, you noticed the door was slightly ajar, the darkness from the room seeping into the dimly lit hallway.

You stopped in your tracks as you tried to peek in the small opening to the room before walking closer, slowly creaking the door wider to see inside. With a quick flick of the lightswitch on the wall next to the door frame, the room illuminated before you to reveal Bob’s empty bed, sheets messy and pillows scattered.

If he wasn’t here, there was only one place he could be. 

You flicked the lightswitch, darkening the room once again before gently pulling the door closed and continuing your way towards your room. 

Bob had slept in your room many times before, but he had never stayed the night. He would nap during the day while you were downstairs training in the gym or in a conference with the team, since he wasn’t quite ready yet to participate.

Occasionally, you would lie next to him as he flipped through a novel, sometimes asleep from the exhaustion of your work as an avenger, other times awake and admiring his concentrated face as he consumed each page with a deep enthusiasm. 

You approached your bedroom door with caution. The door was completely shut, the darkness and utter silence seeped under the door. An image of Bob flashed across your mind — him laying in your bed, his book still open in his hand, his thumb holding his place between the pages, mouth slightly open as his head lay peacefully on your cotton pillowcase.

Half of you wanted to just let him be and just sleep on one of the many couches in the living room, where several pillows and blankets had accumulated from the team’s movie nights.

The other half of you however was so exhausted from your mission and ached to retreat to your own bed that you didn’t mind sharing it, especially with Bob. 

As quiet and gentle as you could be, you twisted the silver door knob and pushed your bedroom room open. The dim hallway light created a small path of sight in front of you, before it was outmatched by the darkness. You quickly tip-toed into the room and closed the door behind you, the faint click barely audible as the door shut completely. 

The rooms in the compound were quite large – with their own personal bathrooms and a good amount of floor space. 

It took you a while to get used to the new layout, but after some time you memorized it enough to navigate your way to your bed in the darkness. There was a small hallway when you first walked in, and as you calmly walked through, you expected to turn and faintly see Bob, illuminated by the faint moonlight shining through your window, completely oblivious to the world as he lay asleep.

But what you actually found when you turned the corner, well, you definitely could not have expected it. 

Splayed across your bed, wearing a black shirt that lay high on his abdomen, exposing his toned abs, and a pair of grey sweatpants that were tugged down almost to his knees. His eyes were shut tight. Not with sleep, but with devoted concentration. 

You froze in place for a moment, before quietly moving to hide behind the corner of the wall, peeking out of the darkness to witness the scene before you. 

His lip was bitten between his teeth, head thrown back as he worked his hand, stroking himself. You noticed something in his hand as you stared, a familiar pair of underwear you hadn’t realized had been missing till now. 

Now that you thought about it, you had been missing quite a few pairs since Bob had started helping you out with your laundry. 

The soft cotton of your white panties wrapped around Bob’s cock was a sight unexpected, but not unwelcome. 

As he lay in your bed, whines slipping through his teeth, bucking into his fist, you stood quietly across the room.

Your thighs squeezed slightly as you watched him, so needy in your own bed, completely unaware you had come back early to catch him so vulnerable. 

His curls had fallen over the beads of sweat on his forehead, and his pace was growing more reckless. He brought his hand that had been grabbing at your comforter to his face, covering his mouth as his moans became harder to stifle. 

You would’ve loved to watch as he made himself come undone in your bed, but where would that leave you? 

Leaving your hiding spot, you stealthily made your way over to your bed. His eyes were still closed tightly, so he didn’t notice your presence until you spoke. 

“So, that’s where those went.” 

His eyes flew open, looking up to see you looking down at him, and he froze. One hand stayed put around his cock, and the other moved to cover as much of his face as possible, hiding his utter embarrassment. 

“Oh– I’m sorry – I-” 

Bob had no idea how to explain himself. 

Yes, he had been sleeping in your room while you were away on missions. His room was just too lonely and your bed smelt like you. He just felt so much more comfortable surrounded by everything that reminded him of your presence even when you weren’t there. 

Yes, he had taken a few pairs of your underwear from your laundry. He didn’t want to seem weird, he was so afraid of scaring you off. He just wanted . . . some material, and surely you wouldn’t notice just a couple items going missing, right? 

And yes, he had been . . . relieving himself in your room. Again, it smelt so much like you. He had already spent a majority of his time there. He was just too nervous to tell you how he really felt about you, how much he really needed you, craved you even.  He made sure his visits were completely undetectable afterwards, and he always locked the door. Almost always, anyway.  

He was mortified. The one time he realized he forgot to lock the door, there you were, staring down at him in his most vulnerable moment. 

Your hand threaded through his brown locks as you looked down at him. He peeked between his fingers to watch your face – you didn’t seem that upset. 

Your pupils were dilated as your eyes scanned over him, stopping to watch his still hand around himself, before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“Can I help with that?” 

His eyes grew wide as he groaned, his shoulders dropping their tense stance as his hand dragged down his face, “Please.” 

You motioned for him to scoot over, as he quickly scrambled to give you room. He watched with wide, anticipating eyes as you climbed onto the bed with him, laying directly to the side of him.

With one hand, you turned his chin towards yours, and encapsulated him in a kiss. 

The kiss was smooth, soft, yet he almost embarrassingly whined into your mouth. He finally had a taste of you, and it would be impossible for him to let go. 

His free hand pulled you closer from the back of your neck, as you reached down blindly and replaced his other hand with yours. 

As your thumb carefully brushed over his tip, he moaned through your lips. You kept moving your thumb in slow circles, and he had completely fallen apart. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, attempting to hide his flushed face and you kept working your hand so perfectly around him, especially with your own panties now in your grasp. 

You felt his breathy moans against the skin of your neck as he tried to bury himself into you, tugging you as close as possible as he moved his arm around your waist, bucking into your hand. 

His moans turned into whines as he grew more sensitive by the second, and it wasn’t long before he gently bit into your neck, and spilled all over your fist. He could’ve melted into you as he came, having never felt so blissful in his life. His hips kept shaking until he stilled, no longer able to handle the overstimulation. 

Reaching over to your bedside table, you pulled a couple tissues from their box and gently cleaned him up, as well as your hands, before tossing your panties across the room into your laundry basket.

You admired his face for a moment, eyes closed and mouth left slightly open, as his head lay back against your pillow, before carefully tugging up his boxers as his sweats. 

You thought he had already fallen asleep, as his chest was steadily falling and rising with every breath, however when you went to rest by his side, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, resting his chin on the top of your head as you smiled into his chest, a bit more thankful that he’d been doing your laundry.

~~~