#what void inside is she trying to fill

[ieidolon]

do haewon is deeply fascinating to me bc i don't know if she's lying about loving or not loving park jeongje. i would read a whole novel with her as the unreliable narrator and im not joking

[humanjarvis]

a closer look

synopsis: every time you try to take your relationship to the next level, you always shy away at the last second. lucky for you, dr. zayne has a solution!

tags: inexperienced reader & zayne, soft dom zayne, reader fears penetration at first, zayne sets up a surgical camera so she can watch him finger her, vaginal fingering (duh), “anatomy” “lesson,” praise, “good girl,” improper use of hospital assets  pairing: zayne x fem reader word count: 2.3k

a/n: this came to me in a dream. enjoy

“Have I given you reason to be afraid of me?” Zayne asks you softly, attentive gaze trailing down your stiff body.

“N-no!” you blurt, thrusting your hands out in mortification. “You haven’t, I swear you haven’t. This is just…new to me.”

“Me as well,” he retreats from above you, moving back on the sofa to give you breathing room.

Just moments ago, you’d been writhing under him needily, his tongue plunging into your eager mouth as you groped each other with abandon. Spurred on by your initial pleas, he’d dared to take it further this time—further than either of you had ever been. But as his hand had traveled down your body, dipping just the slightest bit inside your panties, you’d gone rigid. Zayne, ever aware of your reactions, had stopped his movements immediately, looking seekingly into your eyes for answers. Unfortunately for him, once that cautious hazel gaze had found yours, you’d squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. 

“It’s nothing that you did, Zayne,” you sigh as you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I know you’d never hurt me. I’m just…scared.” 

“Of?” he asks softly, and the way his kind face is void of any judgment makes you want to extract your brain and beat it for denying you the chance to feel him. 

Another sigh escapes you as you gather your thoughts. “What if it hurts?” you wonder shyly, fiddling with your clammy hands. “I always imagined it’d hurt. And there’s never…been…anything there, outside of medical stuff. That’s the only thing I have to compare it to.”

Nodding along patiently, Zayne extends a hand to you, pulling you to him when you accept it gratefully. “I’m sorry that you’re frightened, but I understand your hesitation. I’m content to just hold you in my arms, if you’ll let me. As long as it takes, I’ll wait for you.”

“No, I-I want to. With you, soon. That’s the problem—I’ll think I’m ready, but then the second we get close, I freeze up. I just don’t know what to expect, and that scares me.” 

Humming contemplatively, Zayne laces your fingers together. “I think I can help with that.” 

The usually bustling corridors of Akso Hospital are eerily quiet at night. 

Hurrying through them as if a ghost will jump out at any second, you scour the door plaques for room 429. 

I’ll be finishing up early today. If you’re able, can you meet me at the hospital this evening? Room 429, Zayne had messaged you hours ago. And with no other plans and a lingering sense of guilt that you know he’d disapprove of, you’d agreed almost instantly.

Combating pangs of confusion—he never asked you here at night, outside of official events—you don’t realize you’ve scurried past the door until the room numbers grow too high. Backtracking briskly, you tap the wood with two soft knocks before a calm “Come in!” beckons you inside. 

Room 429 is a standard hospital room—a large examination table, a sink and cabinets, and two simple chairs. At the small table near the back of the room—much humbler than the sleek standing desk in his office, you note perplexedly—Zayne sits, pen in hand, leafing through an endless stack of paperwork. Why did he move his office here for the night? 

“Great, you’re here,” he says, setting his pen atop a thick packet. “Take a seat.” 

“Um, okay,” you mumble obediently, heading toward one of the navy guest chairs. 

“Not there,” he calls. 

Turning to face him, you catch the way his eyes shift to the examination table. “Is this some kind of impromptu appointment?” you ask, his secrecy filling you with stubbornness. 

Zayne rises from the rolling chair that’s too small for him, crossing the room in measured strides. “Not a sanctioned one.” 

Before you can ask what he means, his hands are wrapping around your waist, lifting you up to deposit you on the soft table padding. 

“Hey!” you squeak, surprised but not fighting him. “What is all this? I had my annual checkup a couple weeks ago, I’ll have you know. And I won’t be your guinea pig, either.”

Zayne tsks with amusement. As he presses a button, a large black mount lowers from the ceiling, its sturdy hooks securing a small silver device. Another button, and the device’s tiny red light flicks on. 

And suddenly, your reflection stares back at you from a monitor on the opposite wall. 

Anticipating your interrogation, Zayne speaks before you can. “This is a high-definition surgical instrument. It’s used to help us see the body during minor procedures.”

You blink at him quizzically. “So…a camera?” 

“Yes. A camera. Repurposed for…recreational matters,” he quips with a slight upturn of his lips.

“You should know your own body,” he continues gently. “Exploring yourself—whether with or without me—is your right. And after last night, I figured…perhaps being able to see my actions as they happen would assuage some of your fears.” 

“You…when did you have time to…?” you trail off, staring up at him in wonder. 

“I believe I told you I finished my work early today. This was the reason,” he reveals. Even with you perched on the examination table, Zayne’s imposing height exceeds yours. His assurance is a warm blanket as he stands beside you, resting a large palm on your bent knee. “I’d like to help you explore yourself now. Will you allow me to?”

With a heavy gulp—more from anticipation than nerves, you realize—you nod your consent meekly.

“I don’t know what that means, darling. Can you give me words?”

“Yes,” you exhale shakily. “Help me. Please.”

Smiling softly, pride flashing across his face, he leans in to kiss you sweetly. Then, reaching up to bring the camera closer, he angles it toward your lower body. On the far wall, the feed is dangerously close to revealing what lies beneath your skirt. 

“I’ll raise this,” he says, lifting the fabric with care. “And these…will need to come off,” he eyes you, gesturing to your thin cotton panties. 

For a moment, you debate removing them yourself. But if this was about overcoming fears….

“Can you do it, Dr. Zayne? I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” you whisper coyly. 

His eyes widen as he pauses. Then, collecting himself, he inches his hands forward to tug at the sides of your panties, sliding them down with precision. “Of course,” he says softly. “I’ll take care of you.” 

As he sets his eyes on your naked cunt for the first time, Zayne shows admirable restraint, looking away after only a few tense seconds. Some hypocritical, eager-to-please part of you would almost be offended, if not for his tells: his quickened blinks, heavy breaths, and fidgeting fingers. 

“I’ll get started now,” he exhales, voice husky with veiled desire. “You’re free to stop me at any time.”

And as you gaze at him with trust and only a little bit of fear, Zayne begins. 

“This is your pelvic bone,” he gestures slowly. “It supports your body weight.” 

The warmth of someone else’s hand on your bare hip is a foreign feeling. Foreign, but not bad, you decide, relaxing under his touch. 

“The mons pubis,” he continues, hands ghosting over the mound beneath your belly. 

“And this,” he murmurs, spreading your folds carefully, “is your pretty little pussy.” 

The word—in here, from him, in reference to you—is so scandalous it makes you gasp. You try desperately to avoid his gaze, eyes flitting across the room in panicked arousal, but you don’t find the reprieve you’re looking for. 

Because on that far wall, looking back at you tauntingly, is the velvety skin of your most private part, glistening with your growing desire. 

Snapping you out of your staring contest, Zayne taps the flesh of your thigh twice. “Open, please. Wider.” 

Swallowing thickly, you oblige.  

“Good,” he praises, tracing your exposed entrance with an elongated index finger. “This is where I’ll touch you. Is that alright?”

Through heavy drags of air, you forget his earlier instructions, nodding quickly as your answer. When all he does is lift a brow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, you hazily remember his request. “Yes,” you whimper apologetically. “It’s alright.”

“Well, then. Suck,” he orders simply, holding his finger to your mouth. 

The command startles you at first. But as you look between the man beside you and the far wall, recalling how frustrated you’d been with your fears last night, you part your lips slightly. Just enough for him to enter. 

Timidly, you circle your tongue around him, coating his finger in your saliva. Once he deems it wet enough, he taps your thigh again, and you release him with a soft pop. 

With half-lidded eyes, Zayne hums his approval, pushing closer to you to angle the digit at your entrance. “Hold onto me if you need to,” he whispers, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder.

And then, his finger sinks inside you. 

It’s one thing to feel the tension. To clench as a light, unfamiliar pressure pushes firmly inside your heat, claiming the untraversed territory with every inch. 

But as the discomfort subsides and you open your eyes, seeing it unfold is something else entirely. 

On the large screen, Zayne’s slender finger pumps in and out of you slowly, impactfully. With every exit, your pulsing pink walls hug his retreating digit, begging him to stay. And when he grants their request, every thrust back inside has them clamping around his finger, as if barring him from leaving them lonely. 

Watching with rapt attention, Zayne splits his focus between the monitor and you, gauging your expression for signs of discomfort.

But as your body melts with newfound pleasure, you sigh softly along to the rhythm of his pumps, eyeing the way he breaches your wetness with wanton intrigue. 

The way he disappears inside you, giving his body to yours…you want to kiss him. You need to kiss him. But the moment you lift your gaze to his lips, licking your own as you lean in, Zayne moves his face just out of reach.

“No,” he murmurs his denial, stroking your walls with added vigor as he turns your face back toward the screen. “Don’t get distracted.”

Grumbling your disappointment, you allow his hypnotic movements to recapture your attention. But before long, you’re curling into his touch. “Can you…m-more?” you pant, risking a longing glance up at him. 

“More?” Zayne repeats, slowing his pace to a deep probe that makes you writhe in impatience. “Is that something you can handle?” 

“Yes,” you cry, clutching his pristine lab coat. “Can handle it, if it’s you.” 

He hums contentedly. And a split second later, another long finger joins the first. 

Eyes glued to the screen, you see the intrusion before you feel it: his thick, united digits headed straight for your core. As he prods at the small opening, advances met with quivering resistance, you almost think you’ve asked for more than you can take. But as slick dribbles out of your squelching hole to welcome him, the fluid dulls the stretching sensation, and your fluttering cunt sucks him in greedily.

A loud, lewd moan has you arching erratically, and Zayne wraps a strong arm around your lower back to support you. 

“How does it feel?” he murmurs between steady pumps. “Are you still frightened?” 

“No,” you mewl ardently. “It’s good. You’re good. But I…” you pause, racking your fuzzy brain for the right words. 

“You what, my love?” 

“I can’t…I don’t think I can…like this…” you trail off with an embarrassed whine, hoping he understands your babbling. 

“Mm,” he nods sympathetically. “It’s natural that you can’t come from this alone. What a good girl you are for telling me.” 

With his free hand, Zayne leans forward to adjust the camera, centering it over your glistening cunt. Once satisfied, he flexes his thumb to rest gently on the twitching bundle above your entrance. “You know what this is, don’t you, darling?”

“Clit,” you breathe, the word leaving you in a garbled gasp thanks to the shocks of his feather-light touch. 

“That’s right,” he praises, kissing your temple while his fingers scissor lazily inside you. “This is how you’ll finish.” 

As your voices fade, room filling with the wet sploshes of your tightening walls, the force of his thumb grows heavier on your clit. You almost squeal as the pressure increases, instinctively lifting your hips out of the camera frame—to which Zayne firmly pushes you back down. 

“Watch,” he commands sternly. “So you’ll know how to do the same when I’m away.” 

Curling his other fingers inside you, Zayne rolls his thumb in devastating circles, grinding so deeply against your nub that it greets you with spasmic, greedy twitches on the monitor. For a moment, his movements are mesmerizing, his thumb drawing patterns on your clit in time with his measured pumps. But as he slips out his index finger to pinch your aching bud, the gushing slick heralding your release is the last thing you see before your eyes screw shut from ecstasy. 

As you writhe against him with thankful sobs, Zayne’s movements slow before stopping altogether. “It’s alright,” he shushes you. “Let it take you. You look beautiful like this.” 

And in the comfort of his reassurance, those sobs turn into quiet, blissful moans. 

You’re not sure how he does it—the sink and paper towels are on the other side of the room—but when you open your eyes, Zayne’s hands are clean. 

“I’m very proud of you,” he says gently, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you mumble, nuzzling into his palm. “You were right. Seeing it, knowing what you were doing…it did help,” you finish shyly.

“I’m glad. And in that case,” he adds, tapping the camera appreciatively, “I’ll ask around about the cost of installation in my home office.”

[vvampirelust]

midnight cowboy

warnings: smut, reverse cowgirl, kinda mean!sevika, brief spanking, BIG MAMA (she is a warning.)

this was inspired by JADE’s song, ‘midnight cowboy’

Neon lights glare through the window, illuminating the dark space, and the two figures inside. Flashes of purple and blue casting over their silhouettes. Muffled bass thumps, echoing from the nightlight outside. It’s almost silent other wise, heavy breathing filling the void.

Sevika’s mechanical arm rests behind her head, leaning back on it, her cold grey eyes alert, watching. There’s a smug look on her face, smoke pouring in spirals from her nose as she takes a drag from the blunt between her lips. She tears her eyes from your naked form, down to your hands and grunts when you roughly tighten the harness around her thigh. Saddling her up. “Easy.” She bites.

You simply chuckle in response, knowing fine well she likes when you try to play a little rough.

Sevika’s purplish strap stands tall on her hips, thick and ridged, made to make you feel everything. Your cunt throbs at the sight, thighs squeezing. It suited Sevika perfectly, big and intimidating. Her free hand comes to wrap around it, stroking the thick length up and down. You’re staring hungrily, folds dripping with slick, eager to have Sevika inside you.

Her head tilts, “You gonna get on with it, or what?” She asks gruffly, daringly. Eyes trailing down to the mess between your thighs, demeanour faltering ever so slightly at the sight of your glistening cunt. Sevika hums, patting her thigh, “Come ‘n ride me, gorgeous. Show me what you’re made of.” She challenges through another puff of smoke, settling back against the headboard.

Lip caught between your teeth, you nod dumbly, “Need your cock, Sevika,” you sigh, climbing her eagerly, watching her smirk. You turn around on her lap, straddling her thighs. It takes Sevika by surprise, which doesn’t happen often, having expected you to ride facing her. Now she has a full view of your back, her eyes trailing down the length of you. She admires your curves, the swell of your ass and fuck, your cunt.

Which was winding down on the tip of her strap, coating Sevika’s cock in your sticky juices. She catches on your entrance and you gasp, walls fluttering as you tease yourself.

Sevika’s groan dances with your long moan when you finally sink down on her cock. Feeling lightheaded as you stretch around the size of her, so deep inside your cunt, you can feel her in your throat. Sevika’s groan turns into a dark laugh, flesh hand wiping to snatch the blunt from her lips, tossing it aside. “You really are just fucking nasty, aren’t you, girl?” her words are harsh as she sits up, the movement forcing her cock deeper. You whine, cut off by Sevika’s arm wrapping around your chest, tugging your back flush against her.

“Fuckin’ slut, look at you,” she drawls, mechanical hand finding your waist, running down, freezing against your hot skin. “Fuck, look at these curves. Just move-yeah that’s it. Nice and slow,” Sevika guides you, grip on your waist urging you to grind down on her, hips rolling for her hard eyes to admire.

Your soft moans echo, whimpers slipping out whenever her cock hits those spots inside you that have you lost for breath. “Sevika, please,” you have no idea what you’re pleading for. Sevika simply grunts in response, leaning down to attack your neck with her mouth. Sucking hard enough to leave marks, looking down your body as you continue to rock your hips back against her. You suck in a sharp, deep breath, Sevika watching how your tits move as you heave, perky nipple just begging to be pinched and bitten. So she does, pawing and groping at your tits until you’re whining and squirming on her cock.

You start to grind down harder, faster, desperate for more. More noises slip past your lips, growing louder with each rut of your hips. You want to bounce on her cock, feel her sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Yet Sevika lays a sharp smack to your thigh, “What did i just say?” she murmurs nipping your skin, “Slow.”

With a whine you sit back on her cock, “I need more,” you punctuate with a hard roll of your hips, the pressure giving Sevika friction to which she groans. “Lemme ride you. Give me more, please. I wanna feel you in my tummy.” You sound pathetic, and it gets Sevika off, wanting to see just how desperate you can get. “Please, Sev-“ You cut yourself off with a whimper as you attempt to bounce on her, feeling her cock shifting deliciously against your fluttering walls. “More,” you sigh quietly, lost in the pleasure.

It’s short lived as you’re suddenly shoved forward onto your hands, Sevika scoffing behind you. “You want more?” She sneers, laying a slap to your ass. “Take it.” You’re looking at her over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. Sevika rolls her eyes, her impatience evident as she gestures to you sitting still on her cock. “Get on with it. Fuck yourself dumb, doll, gimme a good show.”

You start slow, lifting off her cock until only her tip sheathed. Letting Sevika see how well you take her as you sink down to the hilt, curses falling from your lips in whispered whines. Sevika hums her approval, eyes trained on the way you begin bouncing on her cock. Quickening the pace of your thrusts, your head falls back in pleasure. Bracing yourself using her thighs, you pant out little whines and whimpers, feeling her so deep, gliding against your sensitive walls.

“Sevika, fuck!” you cry out, voice strained, “Feels s-so good.” That coil beginning to wind up in your stomach, making you clench and attempt to keep her lodged in your cunt. You can hear Sevika’s heavy breath behind you, clearly affected by watching you ride her. Yet her tone is smug, her voice dropping lower, “Come on. You can do better than that.”

Her hands slide to cup your ass, the contrast of hot and cold sending sparks flying across your body. She spreads you open to her gaze as you start to pick up pace, slamming down harder on her cock. She watches the way your cunt swallows her whole, how you were gripping her cock whenever she slid out. Sevika curses behind you, low and husky, “That’s it.”

The need to cum overpowers the ache in your legs, the need to please Sevika. Your eyebrows are furrowed, moans spilling as you bounce up and down, again and again. Fucking yourself hard on her cock, making your head feel fuzzy. “I- fuck,” it feels so good. She’s so deep in your tummy, hitting all the right spots. “I’m gonna…fuck…i’m gonna cum,” you manage, whining, feeling the pressure building up in your core.

Sevika doesn’t even answer, entrance by the crease, the jiggle of your ass against her hips. Your thighs start shaking, inching closer and closer. It drives you wild, riding Sevika like a goddamn cowgirl. Your nails dig into her skin, hard, and she only groans at the feeling. You’re chanting her name in a whispered prayer, voice rising in pitch as your orgasm begins to take over.

It washes over you dramatically, wave after wave. You can’t get a word out, mouth dropped in a silent moan, convulsing atop her. Your cunt is squeezing her rhythmically, like a vice, unable to comprehend the feelings taking over your body. Your thrusts become weaker, attempting to fuck yourself through it. You aren’t given a chance to ride out your high before you feel Sevika’s hand fisting your hair. She grips your hair like a ponytail, tugging your head back as she readjusts herself. And then she makes you scream.

Sevika pistons her hips to meet your thrusts, fucking up into you with an aggression. Your moans come out in broken sobs as she overstimulates your cunt. Your neck strains with how tight Sevika holds your hair, pulling you so far back you could nearly see her upside down. “Got another one in you, don’t ya’?” Sevika growls, grunting with each thrust of her cock into your dripping cunt. Strings of your slick are falling to the bed beneath you, soaking Sevika’s thighs, leaving a ring of cum around the base of her cock.

It’s too much. Far too much. But still not enough. The way she’s rutting into you like a dog in heat, making you see fucking stars. Having not recovered from your first orgasm and she’s already fucking you into the next one. Her free hand finds your hip, gripping tightly and using her strength to bounce you on top of her. “Good fucking girl,” she drawls through a grunt, “Taking me so well.”

You sob out in pleasure as a response, listening to the obscene wet sounds. Paired with the slapping of Sevika’s hips against your ass. It was filthy, pornographic, but it simply made you want it more. Sevika was pushing you past your limits, and a sick, twisted part of you got off on it. The way she used you like a toy.

And you let her, body pliant as she fucked up into you, cock hitting deeper than you ever thought possible. Your legs were trembling, so close to giving out beneath you. “Fuckin’ look at you. Making a mess of my dick,” Sevika practically snarls, tugging your hair harder and rutting into you deeper. “Gonna cum, doll?”

You couldn’t speak, attempting a weak nod as you whined. Your cunt was tightening around her cock again and you were gasping for air. It was all too much. The feeling of her cock, the fuzziness in your head. “Please, please, please please,” you whimper, needing to let go.

Sevika chuckles darkly, gripping your hip tighter. “Want it bad, huh?” Her tip was pushing into that spot with each thrust, pulling on your hair until she was able to latch her teeth into your neck.

That was your breaking point, the coil in your tummy snapping. Sevika forces another orgasm out of you. She grunts with each thrust, fucking you through the near unbearable pleasure. Your moans release in broken screams and squeaks, arms giving out as you fall back into her. Sevika wraps her arm around your middle, cooing in your ear, rutting her hips up over and over, letting you feel everything.

“Ohhh,” you’re shuddering in her hold, “Oh my god!” Your hand shoots behind you to grab a hold of the back of her neck, grounding yourself. You don’t even register the tears falling from your eyes from how hard she made you cum. You have to turn your head and bury your face into her, panting for breath, still shaking. You can feel Sevika stroking her mechanical thumb over your hip, offering a form of comfort.

She’s laughing in your ear, smug expression gracing her face. She lets go of your hair to grab your face, smushing your cheeks. “I think it’s my turn, doll.” She says quietly, gruffly, breath hot against the shell of your ear, “Gonna ride that pretty face of yours. Let’s see how much you can take.”

[moonlightwritingf1]

When Absence Speaks | LN4

🔥 summary ━━━━━━━ After not seeing each other for weeks, Y/N accidentally squirts during sex with Lando. He's so fascinated and turned on by her that he decides he wants to make her squirt again and again.

🔥 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🔥 word count ━━━━━━━ 6k

🔥 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms

Based on this request.

The air in the room was thick with tension, the kind that prickled your skin and made your breath catch in your throat. Y/N paced the living room of her flat, her heart pounding in her chest. It had been over a month since she last saw Lando, and the weight of his absence was almost unbearable. She had tried to distract herself with work and her friends, but nothing could fill the void he left behind.

The sound of the front door unlocking made her freeze. Her breath hitched as the door clicked open, and there he was—Lando Norris, standing in the doorway with a suitcase in one hand and a wicked grin on his face.

“Miss me?” he teased, his voice dripping with that familiar charm that always made her stomach flip.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Not even a little,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Lando chuckled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He dropped his suitcase and crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling her into his arms before she could protest. His lips were on hers in an instant, hot and demanding, and all thoughts of resistance melted away.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their tongues tangled in a desperate dance. It had been too long since she felt his touch, too long since his hands roamed her body with such possessive urgency. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he stared down at her with dark, hungry eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Every night, I’d lie in bed, imagining what I’d do to you the second I saw you again.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between her thighs at his words. “What stopped you from calling?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, tracing a finger along her jawline. “I wanted to make you wait. I wanted you to miss me as much as I missed you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her body pressed against his betrayed her true feelings. “You’re such a tease.”

“And you love it,” he countered, his lips brushing against her ear.

He was right, and she hated how easily he could see through her. She didn’t say anything, instead capturing his lips in another searing kiss. Her hands roamed his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her, to feel that familiar stretch as he filled her completely.

Lando’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head in one swift motion. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin as his fingers deftly unhooked her bra. She gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud.

“Lando…” she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He pulled away, his eyes locking with hers as he undid the button on her jeans. “I’ve been dreaming about this,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “About how you’d feel around me, how you’d moan my name.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he stripped her of her jeans and panties, leaving her completely bare before him. His gaze roamed over her body, and she felt a shiver run down her spine at the intensity in his eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his hands moving to the waistband of his own jeans.

She watched as he kicked off his shoes and removed the rest of his clothes, her eyes widening at the sight of his arousal. He was already hard, his length straining against his stomach. She licked her lips, the heat between her thighs growing almost unbearable.

Lando stepped closer, his hands gripping her hips as he pressed her back against the wall. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “I need you,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

“Then take me,” she breathed, her heart racing in anticipation.

He didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion, he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he positioned himself at her entrance. He paused, his eyes locking with hers. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. “Please, Lando.”

He thrust into her with a force that made her gasp, the air rushing out of her lungs as if he’d punched it from her chest. Her back arched instinctively, her body seeking more of him, more of the heat and pressure that only he could give. His length stretched her in ways that bordered on overwhelming, every inch of him filling her completely, pushing against walls that had been empty for far too long. She felt him everywhere—her core, her thighs, the way her pulse throbbed in time with his movements.

Her nails raked down his shoulders, leaving faint red trails in their wake, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he groaned, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through her as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was electric, a jolt that shot straight to her spine, making her toes curl and her breath hitch. Her body clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, to feel every ridge and vein of him as he moved.

“Fuck,” she choked out, her voice breaking on the word. It wasn’t just relief—it was hunger, a deep, aching need that had been building for weeks. Every thrust sent sparks skittering across her skin, lighting up parts of her she hadn’t realized were dormant. Her hips rocked against his, meeting him stroke for stroke, each one deeper, harder, more consuming than the last.

His hands gripped her hips tighter, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her closer, impossibly closer. “You feel so good,” he growled, his voice rough, almost feral. “So fucking tight.”

She couldn’t respond, couldn’t think beyond the way he filled her, the way his body moved against hers with a rhythm that was both familiar and new. Her moans spilled out unchecked, raw and unfiltered, each one a testament to how much she’d missed this, missed him. Her legs tightened around his waist, locking him in place as if she could fuse them together, making this moment last forever.

The room was alive with the sounds of their bodies colliding, the slick slide of skin on skin, the ragged breaths that mingled in the space between them. Every movement was deliberate, calculated to drive her higher, to push her closer to the edge. 

“God, I missed this,” he growled, his voice rough, the words brushing against her ear like a promise.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Her hips rocked against him instinctively, searching for that familiar rhythm, that perfect friction. The weight of him, the heat of him, the way he filled her so completely—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Her thighs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, low and guttural.

“You feel... fuck, you feel incredible,” he panted, his breath hot against her neck. His hands slipped under her thighs, shifting her slightly, adjusting the angle, and the tip of him brushed against something that made her eyes roll back.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice breaking as sensation surged through her like a storm. “Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His hips moved with a rhythm that was both punishing and tender, each thrust driving her higher, closer to that edge she was desperate to fall over. The sweat-slicked heat of their bodies pressed together, the slap of skin against skin, the way he groaned her name—it was too much, and not nearly enough.

She clutched at him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her legs wrapped so tightly around him she might’ve left bruises. But he didn’t care. If anything, the way she clung to him only spurred him on, his pace growing more frantic, his grip firmer.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, his lips finding hers in a messy, desperate kiss. “All mine.”

Y/N’s head fell back against the wall, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into her with relentless force. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t help the moans that escaped her lips.

“I missed this,” she gasped, her legs tightening around him. “I missed you.”

Lando’s lips crashed against hers, his kiss hot and possessive. “I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips. “So fucking much.”

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, each thrust driving her closer to the edge. Y/N’s pussy clenched around Lando’s cock, her walls stretching to accommodate his thickness, pulsing with every inch he pushed into her. She gasped as he filled her completely, the familiar stretch igniting a fire in her core she had missed for far too long. He groaned, the sensation of her tight wet heat enveloping him making his knees weak. “You feel fucking incredible,” he rasped, his voice strained as he watched her body take him completely.

She could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he moved inside her, the sensation overwhelming. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him deeper, desperate for more. “I missed this so fucking much,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “I missed you filling me, stretching me out, making me feel so full.”

Lando’s hands roamed her body, gripping her hips firmly as he thrust into her harder, faster, eager to hear more of her desperate cries. His hands found her breasts, cupping them tightly, thumbs brushing over her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers until she arched into his touch. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he growled, his breath hot against her ear. “How much I’ve missed feeling you wrapped around me.”

Her gasps turned into cries, her nails raking down his back as their bodies moved frantically, each thrust driving her closer to the edge. “Lando, I need more,” she begged, her pussy clenching around him.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me,” he demanded, his hands sliding down to her hips, lifting her higher as thrusts came even faster, deeper.

“Every damn night, every day,” she cried. Her mind was unraveling.

Lando reeled further. “What about it? Tell me everything.”

“I’d touch myself thinking about you,” she confessed, making Lando grunt as he tortured her swollen ring with thumb and pinky tightening even further. “Thinking about how you feel inside me, how you stretch me, how you make me feel so fucking full.”

“Fuck, me too,” he admitted, and she arched an eyebrow, her cheeks flushed. “I’d jerk myself through these endless nights, imagining this, imagining how tight and warm you’d feel wrapped around me. Imagining how you moan when I press myself into you until there’s nothing more to give.”

Their breathing grew ragged, their movements rougher, messier, the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, her moans, his grunts. “I’m close,” she gasped, her nails digging into his skin.

“So, what are you waiting for?” he teased, his voice ragged and breathless. His cock throbbed inside her, the thick vein along its length pressing against that perfect, sensitive spot deep within her. “Come for me.”

The words were a command, a challenge, and she felt her body respond instantly. Her walls clenched around him, her hips bucking as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. She could feel it—the edge of release, so close, so tantalizingly close.

“Lando,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “I’m... I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone.”

Her body tensed, every muscle coiled tight as Lando’s thrusts grew harder, faster, more desperate. The pressure inside her built to a breaking point, a white-hot heat that threatened to consume her entirely. She could feel it—the edge of something she’d never experienced before, something primal and uncontrollable.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. “I think… I think something’s happening.”

He didn’t slow down, his hips slamming into hers with a force that made her cry out. “Let it happen,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart.”

And then it hit her—a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. Her pussy clenched around him, her walls pulsing in rapid, uncontrollable spasms. She felt it before she saw it, the sudden rush of warmth as her body betrayed her, gushing streams of liquid that soaked them both.

“Fuck!” Lando’s eyes widened in shock as her pussy pushed him out, his cock slipping free just as the first wave hit. He stared down at her, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief. “Did you just…?”

She couldn’t answer, her body still convulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her legs, once tightly wrapped around him, now hung limply, barely able to hold on. Her whole body felt like it was collapsing, but Lando’s arms were there, strong and steady, holding her against the wall.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder. “You squirted.”

She blinked up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “I… I didn’t know I could do that.”

A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “Neither did I. But fuck, that was hot.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her at his words. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so completely seen. And in that moment, she knew there was no one else she’d rather share this with than him.

Lando tightens his hold on Y/N. 

“You’re not going anywhere, princess. Not until I make you scream my name again.” 

Y/N’s body shuddered at his words, her legs still trembling from the intensity of her first orgasm. The sensation of his skin against hers, the way he looked at her with pure hunger, made her heart race. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs again, her body already responding to his every touch

Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding as she clings to him, her wetness still lingering on her thighs. With a determined grip, he carefully lifts her off the wall, his strong arms cradling her as he carries her toward the bedroom. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips brushing against his jawline as she whispered, “You’re insatiable, Lando.” He chuckled, the low, throaty sound sending a shiver down her spine. “When it comes to you? Absolutely.”

He laid her gently on the bed, her back sinking into the soft mattress. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over her naked form with a predatory gleam. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence. He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against her sensitive skin, his lips hovering just above her core.

“I’m going to make you cum again,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise. “And again. And again. Until you forget your own name.” his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine. His hands glide up her thighs, his touch firm yet tender, as if he’s memorizing every inch of her. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Y/N’s breath hitches as his fingers brush against her sensitive core, her body instinctively arching toward him. She’s still reeling from the intensity of their first encounter, the way he made her lose control completely. And now, he’s looking at her with that same determination, that same fire in his eyes.

“Lando…” she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

“Shh,” he interrupts softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her inner thigh. His lips are warm, his breath hot against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Her stomach flutters at his words, her body already responding to his touch. He places a trail of kisses along her thigh, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. When he finally reaches her center, her breath catches in her throat, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.

His tongue flicks against her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her entire body. She gasps, her hips lifting off the bed as he begins to lick her with a slow, teasing rhythm. His hands grip her thighs, holding her in place as he explores her with an expertise that makes her head spin.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against her, his voice muffled but filled with admiration. He licks her again, his tongue swirling around her clit in a way that makes her moan loudly, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

Her entire body is on fire, her pleasure building with every flick of his tongue. She feels herself getting closer, her thighs trembling around his head as he continues to lavish her with attention. Just as she’s about to tip over the edge, he adds two fingers inside her, curling them in that perfect spot that makes her cry out.

“Oh God,” she gasps, her back arching off the bed as she feels the familiar rush of pleasure surging through her. Her body tightens around his fingers, her orgasm crashing over her in waves as she squirts again, her release soaking his hand and the bed beneath her.

Lando doesn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible. Her moans grow louder, her body writhing beneath him as he pushes her to new heights of ecstasy. When he finally pulls away, her body collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

He looks up at her, his lips glistening, his eyes filled with desire. “That’s two,” he says, his voice smug but filled with admiration. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at his words, her body still tingling from the intensity of her orgasm. She’s never felt so alive, so consumed by pleasure. And yet, the look in his eyes tells her he’s just getting started.

Before she can respond, he climbs up her body, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She can taste herself on his tongue, the sensation sending a fresh wave of desire through her. Her hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer as she kisses him back with equal fervor.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m going to make you cum at least four times tonight,” he says, his voice filled with determination. “I want to break your record. I want to make you perfectly mine.”

Her breath catches at his words, her body already responding to the promise in his voice. She doesn’t know if she can handle more, but the look in his eyes tells her she doesn’t have a choice. And honestly, she doesn’t want one.

Lando kisses her again, his hands roaming her body as he positions himself between her legs. She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance, and instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and filled with anticipation.

She nods, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes,” she breathes, her voice trembling with desire.

He thrusts into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely. She gasps, her nails digging into his back as he begins to move, his pace slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave hers, the connection between them palpable as he takes control of her body once again.

Her pleasure builds with every thrust, her moans filling the room as he brings her closer to the edge once more. She doesn’t know how much more she can take, but she doesn’t care. All she knows is that she never wants this moment to end.

“Lando…” she gasps, her voice trembling as her pussy clenches around him, the sensitivity building with every thrust. Her body feels electric, overstimulated, yet still craving more. “I don’t know if I can… again.”

He doesn’t slow down, his hips driving into her with a restless rhythm that makes her toes curl. His hands grip her thighs, spreading her wider as he leans in, his breath hot against her ear. “You can. You will.” His voice is low, commanding, and it sends a shiver through her.

She whimpers, her nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks her harder, deeper, each stroke hitting that spot inside her that makes her vision blur. The pressure builds, unbearable and exquisite all at once. Her back arches off the bed, her moans growing louder, more desperate.

“That’s it,” he growls, his eyes locked on hers, dark with hunger. “Let go for me.”

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she cums even harder than before. Her pussy tightens around him, pulsing wildly, and then—she squirts again. A gush of liquid spills out of her, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath them. The force pushes him out of her, his dick sliding free as she trembles through the aftershocks.

Lando stares down at her, mesmerized, his chest heaving as he watches her come undone. He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “Look at you.”

She’s too spent to respond, her body limp and boneless as she tries to catch her breath. But the way he looks at her—like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes her heart swell. She reaches up, her fingers brushing his cheek, and he leans into her touch, his lips curving into a soft smile.

When she finally comes down from her high, she looks up at him, her eyes filled with awe. “Three,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

He smirks, his eyes filled with pride. “One more to go,” he says, his voice filled with determination. “I’m not stopping until I’ve broken your record.”

Her heart skips a beat at his words, her body already responding to the promise in his voice.

Lando’s hands glide down her body, his touch deliberate and teasing. She’s still trembling from the last orgasm, her skin hypersensitive, but he doesn’t give her a moment to recover. His fingers find her clit, rubbing slow circles that make her gasp, her hips jerking involuntarily. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. “Even after all that.”

She whimpers, her hands clutching at the sheets as he slips two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Her back arches off the bed, a moan escaping her lips. “Lando… I can’t—I don’t think I can again.” Her voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yes, you can,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through her entire body. His eyes lock onto hers, dark and unyielding, filled with a hunger that makes her stomach clench. 

“You’re not done yet.” He leans down, his breath hot against her sensitive skin, and she feels the first flick of his tongue against her clit—light, teasing, deliberate. The sensation is electric, sending sharp jolts of pleasure radiating through her already overstimulated body. Her hips jerk involuntarily, a gasp escaping her lips as his fingers curl inside her, pressing against that spot that makes her see stars.

Her thighs tremble around him, her muscles tense and quivering as he works her with a relentless rhythm. His tongue swirls around her clit, alternating between soft licks and firm pressure, while his fingers thrust deeper, faster, hitting every nerve ending with precision. She can feel herself unraveling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her core until it’s almost unbearable. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, her hands clawing at the sheets for something to hold onto.

“I’m close,” she gasps, her voice breaking as the pressure builds to a crescendo. “So close…”

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, a gravelly vibration that makes her thighs tighten around him. His lips hover just above her pulsing clit, his breath hot and wet against her slick, swollen folds. She feels exposed, raw, every nerve in her body alight with anticipation. 

“Cum for me.” His tongue lashes against her clit—hard, fast, unrelenting—and his fingers curl inside her, pressing firmly against that spot that makes her vision blur. Her nails claw at the sheets, her hips bucking uncontrollably as she feels it building, that relentless pressure coiling tighter and tighter in her core.

Her pussy quivers around his fingers, clenching and releasing in erratic waves, so sensitive now that every stroke of his tongue feels like an electric shock. She can feel herself drenched, her arousal pooling beneath her, the sound of his fingers moving in and out of her loud and shameless. Her moans are desperate, guttural, her toes curling into the mattress as she wavers on the edge.

And then—she breaks. Her orgasm crashes over her with a force that steals her breath, her back arching off the bed as she cums harder than she’s ever thought possible. Her pussy spasms wildly around him, her release gushing out in a flood that soaks his hand, his wrist, the sheets beneath them. The sensations are overwhelming, an exquisite mix of pleasure and overstimulation that makes her cry out, her voice cracking under the intensity. Her thighs tremble violently, her muscles clenched so tight they ache, but Lando doesn’t stop. His tongue circles her clit relentlessly, his fingers thrusting deeper, pushing her higher, squeezing every drop of ecstasy from her shaking body. Tiny gasps escape her lips, each one sharp and uncontrolled, as the aftershocks ripple through her in endless waves.

When he finally pulls away, she collapses onto the bed, boneless and utterly spent. Her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her legs splayed open, trembling. She can still feel the echo of her orgasm coursing through her, her pussy throbbing with the remnants of pleasure. Lando sits back on his heels, his eyes devouring her as droplets of her cum glisten on his chin, his lips curved into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s four,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. He pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips and tasting her. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

She looks up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed with exhaustion and satisfaction. “You’re insatiable,” she breathes, her voice barely audible. 

He smirks, leaning down to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the taste of her. “And you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze dark with admiration. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea how hot it is when you squirt. I can’t believe I made you do that—especially for the first time.” His thumb brushes her cheek, his touch tender despite the intensity in his voice. “You’re incredible. Absolutely fucking incredible.”

She feels a flush rise to her cheeks, her body still tingling from the aftermath of her orgasm. The way he looks at her—like she’s something extraordinary—makes her heart race all over again. She doesn’t know what to say, so she simply reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, and he leans into her touch, his smirk softening into something more intimate.

Lando’s eyes linger on her, dark and unreadable, as he traces a finger along the curve of her hip. His touch is feather-light, almost reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of her trembling body. She’s sprawled out beneath him, completely spent, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her pussy throbs, raw and sensitive, still pulsing with the echoes of her last orgasm.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, filled with awe. He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I can’t believe you just did that. Squirted for me.” His lips curve into a slow, satisfied smirk, but there’s something softer in his gaze now—something that makes her heart flutter despite the exhaustion weighing her down.

She blinks up at him, her vision still hazy, her body too weak to do much more than lie there. “I… I didn’t know I could do that,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, barely audible. Her thighs are slick, the sheets soaked beneath her, and she can still feel the faint trickle of her release between her legs. It’s overwhelming, the way her body feels both destroyed and alive, like every nerve ending has been set on fire and then doused in ice.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. “You’re perfect,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes her chest ache. “Four times, Y/N. We broke your record.” There’s pride in his voice, a quiet satisfaction that makes her blush despite herself. His hand slides down her side, settling on her hip, his thumb brushing lazy circles against her skin. “And you squirted. Fuck, I’ll never forget that.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her fingers twitching as she reaches up to brush against his jaw. “You drive me wild,” she breathes, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and affection. “I don’t think I can move.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm, and shifts beside her, pulling her into his arms. She nestles against his chest, her head resting over his heartbeat, steady and strong. His fingers trail up and down her back, soothing and possessive all at once. “You don’t have to move,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her hair. “Just let me hold you.”

She closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of his embrace. Her body feels heavy, every muscle limp and boneless, but there’s a strange sense of peace in the aftermath. The room is quiet except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat and something uniquely them.

“Lando?” she whispers after a moment, her voice barely audible.

“Hmm?” His hand stills on her back, his attention fully on her.

She hesitates, her fingers curling against his chest. “Thank you,” she says softly, her cheeks flushing. “For… for making me feel like that. Like I’m…” She trails off, unsure how to put it into words.

He tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with something that makes her breath catch. “Like you’re mine,” he finishes for her, his voice low and certain. “Because you are, Y/N. Completely mine.”

Her heart skips a beat, her chest tightening with an emotion she’s not ready to name. Instead, she nods, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Yours,” she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses her then, slow and tender, his lips moving against hers with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the intensity of what came before. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers. “Get some rest,” he murmurs, his hand sliding back down to her hip. “I’ve got you.”

She closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the safety of his arms. Her body is wrecked, her mind blissfully blank, and for the first time in a long time, she feels utterly, completely at peace.

She closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the safety of his arms. Her body is wrecked, her mind blissfully blank, and for the first time in a long time, she feels utterly, completely at peace. But then she shifts slightly, her thigh brushing against him, and she feels it—the hard, unyielding length of him pressed against her. Her eyes flutter open, her breath catching as she realizes he’s still hard, still throbbing with need.

“Lando,” she whispers, her voice soft but tinged with concern. She tilts her head back to look up at him, her brow furrowing. “You didn’t… you didn’t cum.”

He chuckles low in his chest, the sound warm and reassuring, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something hungry. His hand slides down her back, settling on her hip, his thumb brushing lazy circles against her skin. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. “I was too focused on you.”

Her heart skips a beat, a mix of guilt and something else—something hotter—stirring in her chest. She shifts again, her hand sliding down his stomach until her fingers brush against him. He inhales sharply, his hips jerking involuntarily at her touch. “Y/N…” he warns, his voice strained, but she doesn’t stop.

“Let me take care of you,” she says softly, echoing his earlier words. Her fingers wrap around him, her touch tentative but firm, and she feels him pulse in her hand. His breath hitches, his grip on her hip tightening as she begins to stroke him slowly, her movements deliberate and teasing.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillow, his eyes closing as she works him. His hips buck into her hand, his cock slick with precum, and she can feel the tension coiled in his body, the way he’s holding himself back. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” she interrupts, her voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing her down. She leans up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, her hand moving faster now, her thumb swiping over the tip of him. “You gave me so much. Let me give this to you.”

His breath hitches, sharp and uneven, as his body tenses beneath her touch. She can feel the way his muscles coil, every fiber of him tightening like a spring ready to snap. His cock pulses in her hand, hot and heavy, slick with precum that smears across her fingers as she strokes him with deliberate precision. Her thumb swipes over the sensitive tip, and he lets out a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking off the bed as he thrusts into her grip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps, his voice raw and broken, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white. His chest heaves, his abs flexing with each ragged breath, and she can see the strain in his face—the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes squeeze shut as if he’s fighting to hold on just a little longer. But she doesn’t let up, her hand moving faster now, her fingers tightening around him just enough to push him over the edge.

With a deep, shuddering moan, he cums, his release spilling over her fingers in thick, hot spurts. She feels it pulse against her palm, the warmth of it coating her skin as she keeps stroking him, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until his body goes slack, collapsing back onto the bed. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath still coming in shallow gasps, and she can see the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

She slows her movements, her hand still wrapped around him, feeling the way he twitches in her grasp, oversensitive but utterly spent. He looks up at her, his eyes dark and hazy, filled with something that makes her heart skip a beat. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk. “You’re incredible.”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t pull away, her fingers tracing idle patterns along his length as she watches him come down from his high. His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with gratitude.

She smiles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Always,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. And as she settles back against him, her head resting on his chest, she knows there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

[marvelouslymarly]

After Midnight (Bob Reynolds x female superhero!reader)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Robert Reynolds/the Sentry/the Void x female superhero!reader

Part two out now!!! Read here

Summary: You're out with the team when some dude starts acting like an ass. Bob helps you get away and takes you home to show you how a lady should be treated...

Rated E for explicit - Minors do not interact!!

CW: physical violence (bar brawl); the void showing up for a second there; some hints at sexual harrassment/assault (no on page rape!); Bob dancing with reader; fluff; half of this is smut (first time reader and Bob sleep together; oral/female and male receiving; fingering, p in v sex (protected); multiple orgasms) [i think i need a pastor]; minor thunderbolts* spoiler warning bc this is set after the film

Word count: 10.6k words (and I thought the last one was a long one, LOL)

Masterlist

[A/N #1: Got the idea for this on the drive home from my parents' place while listening to After Midnight by Chappel Roan, so here you go]

[A/N #2: thank you to @scuttle-buttle for cheering me on and reading through this!!! Dedicating this to you, babes🫰🏻]

The music was blasting over the speakers, and you could feel the beat in every cell of your body. The team had decided to go out that night, needing a break from training and recon-missions and the same old day-in-and-day-out of the last few weeks. While the guys had stayed back at the bar, Ava and Yelena had pulled you into the center of the dance floor, telling you to put yourself out there and have some fun for once. You knew that they were right. It had been a while since you forgot about work and everything that came with first being one of Val's shadow ops and then becoming part of what Val intended to become the new Avengers.

Even after a few months, the title still didn't feel right. It was just too loaded with expectations, with ideas and opinions about who you should be, what you should or shouldn't do. You guys weren't shiny and new. You were rough around the edges, with problems and your own past full of mistakes and regrets. You all had things you'd like to forget or wished to have gone up in flames with every little detail Val put in that vault.

Being called the "new Avengers" felt like stepping into footsteps not only way too big to fill, but also just the wrong shape to begin with. It was like trying to match the tracks of bears with those of lions. You were a different species of heroes - and even calling yourself heroes felt wrong somehow. You were too familiar with being the bad guys, with having your stories twisted, being used for whatever wrong someone wanted done without getting their own hands dirty. But now, you were supposed to be the ones stopping the bad guys, to fight the guys you were made out to be before.

So, this night out felt like the right call for multiple reasons. It was good for forgetting about work, but also for getting to know each other outside of work settings. You'd lived with them for months and knew everything about who preferred what guns, who would do what whenever you were out on missions but whenever you came home, you'd retreat into your own spaces, resting and trying to figure out where you all fit into whatever Val had in mind when she called the press on you and announced her new team of superheroes come to save the world.

~~~

Earlier that evening, while putting on that one dress in the back of your wardrobe, you could hear your mother's voice in the back of your head, telling you not to dress this provocatively. To be a good girl and cover yourself before the Lord's eyes. You felt the anger you'd repressed for so long bubble back up inside of you. Images of the time before you ran away from home came rushing back in. 

The front lawns of the neighbourhood peppered with signs with psalms and verses written on them. Crosses in every room of the house you’d grown up in. The metal rods and mosquito nets outside the windows to “keep evil out” but, in all honesty, they were there to keep you from climbing out the windows in the middle of the night. Memories of everything your parents tried to make you believe about the virtues of life and how to be a pious girl and a good servant of the Lord. 

You could feel the bile rise, thinking back to the person they had tried to turn you into.Their attempts to marry you off to some boy from the community. Michael Dawson. A good boy, named after the archangel. A god-fearing boy just barely old enough to drive a car. In the year before your parents had told you about their plans, you had barely exchanged two sentences with him. But still, it was blatantly obvious to everyone who looked at him and at the way he looked at Paul for even a second, that this probably wouldn’t have been the happy and sacred marriage your parents had envisioned for you.

When the blip first happened, it felt like you were set free from everything you hated so much. With your family gone, there was nothing holding you back from leaving the community while the rest turned to prayers and service. Just having turned 18 a couple of weeks ago, you’d grabbed the keys to your father’s truck and never looked back.

You caught a look of yourself in the mirror and thought about how far you'd come in the last 8 years. How much distance you'd put between your old life and this new one - regardless of how lost you still felt sometimes. You thought about how you moved to the big city and took up self-defense classes after a close call on your way home from work one night. How powerful you felt once you’d realised you loved to fight and get stronger both physically and mentally. That now, there was very little that you couldn’t get through because you didn’t have to rely on prayers anymore.

You pulled the dress down in the front, revealing more cleavage, and adjusted how your breasts sat in the built-in cups. The thought of your mother’s jaw falling to the floor at the sight of you in this get up, her hands doing quick work to bless herself, sent a smirk to your lips. You smoothed out the dress, letting your hands dance over the sides of your body while you admired yourself. The tightness of the dress, hugging you in just the right places, the skirt just long enough to cover the ass that you trained so hard for. Reapplying the dark red lipstick, you smacked your lips in a playful manner and ran your hand through your locks before leaving your room and joining the others in the common area of your shared apartment.

You could still hear the whistles Walker had sent your way, adding an approving 'looking good, [y/l/n]' after standing up straighter and looking you up and down. You rolled your eyes at him while you put your purse over your shoulder, and then adjusted the leather jacket thrown over your am.

"You clean up nice, too, I guess," you retorted and looked around the group.

Ava and Yelena had put themselves into their best party outfits as well, wearing a knowing smirk while putting up both thumbs, respectively. When your eyes landed on Bob, you could see a faint pink tint to his cheeks, and he quickly averted your gaze, nodding vigorously.

"Yeah, you look really nice... Really... nice, yeah!" He cleared his throat, the blush deepening a few shades. His jaw clenched and you smiled to yourself, having secretly hoped he'd like the way you'd dressed up.

When you'd first met him in the vault those few months ago, in the scrubs that seemed three sizes too big for him, he looked like a helpless puppy, his blue eyes so big and excited at what he'd stumbled into - literally. But then, when you saw what he was capable of, both as the Sentry and the Void and your interest in him grew. He was no longer just the sad, helpless puppy but something more intriguing. Someone with layers that you wanted to uncover one at a time.

After first moving to New York and into the Watchtower with the others, there weren't many chances for you two to interact, to get to know each other better. But when it became more and more obvious that he wasn't ready to be sent out into missions with the rest of the team just yet, you came up with the idea of rotating who would stay at home with him. The rest of the team welcomed the idea of it and so, whenever someone wasn't needed for the mission, they'd try and help Bob figure out how to channel his inner Sentry without also summoning the Void with it. Or they'd bake cakes or make dinner for when the others came back.

You'd stayed back with him two times at that point but every time you asked if he wanted to join you for a gym session or for a swim in the new pool, he'd come up with excuses. Saying he'd sprained his ankle the last time he was working out with Bucky or that he'd just done his daily laps in the morning and was looking forward to reading that one book he didn't have the chance to get to yet. The first time around, you figured he was just a little anti-social and needed some more time to get comfortable but then you heard about how Yelena had gotten him to punch the punching bag so forcefully that it came off the hinges and flew to the other side of the gym and how even Walker could convince him to try some new technique to compartmentalise.

When he declined your invitation to watch a movie the second time you stayed behind, you grew weary, scared that you'd done something wrong or that he just simply didn't like you at all. That the interest you had in him wasn’t reciprocated. But, seeing him blush at the sight of you all dolled up set the tiny bit of hope you still had ablaze once more. On the way to the bar, you caught yourself disengaging from the conversation, coming up with ideas or ways to get him on his own, hoping that he’d be more forthcoming once he had a drink or two in him.

~~~

The feeling of arms slipping around your waist brought you back to the bar and to the song you were mindlessly singing along to. Hands were moving down to your waist, holding onto you as you swayed your hips from side to side. Your eyes travelled down your figure, thinking that maybe it was one of the guys playing a trick on you but then you didn't recognise the tattoos winding up the left forearm and into the rolled up sleeves. Your head turned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of you had come up behind you but you couldn’t quite make out who it was, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Looking around for the girls, you saw that Ava and Yelena had gone back over to the bar, probably to get you guys some drinks. Also sitting at the bar, you made out Walker, Bob and Bucky - the latter engaged in a conversation with some girl desperately trying to get his number from the way she pushed her phone into his direction, a bright smile on her lips, despite the restrained expression on his face and him shaking his head repeatedly, pushing her phone back every time it made contact with his chest. 

Wildly gesticulating with every fiber of his being, Walker was talking to Bob, who was staring into the glass in front of him. You weren’t sure if he was just lost in thought or if he had one too many was getting overwhelmed by the loud music and people pushing past him in the crowded bar, his face inattentive to what Walker was talking about and his shoulders slumped. His gaze wandered over to you, as if he’d felt your eyes on him, and then to the guy behind you, his jaw clenching tightly. Just as quickly as his eyes had met yours, they were back on the remnants of whatever drink he had been musing before, his knuckles turning white in the dim light.

The arms around your hip pulled you back, bringing your attention back to the dancefloor, and you felt a very clammy shirt press into your shoulders before the smell of cheap alcohol mixed with even cheaper breath mints filled your nostrils. Your whole body tensed, when the guy’s right hand travelled back up your side and stopped just under your breast for a second, before moving to the front and up to your neck.

"Hey, Mama, you alone here," the voice slurred questioning, hot breath hitting your ear and neck, and sending goosebumps down your body. His hand was slowly wrapping around your neck and made you turn your head again. Out the corner of your eye, you could clock the name tag on his shirt, making out ‘Sam’ written in cursive stitches.

Feeling your throat close up from the stinging aroma of the cheap liquor he must've bathed in, you tried to push Sam’s arms off of your body, scratching at his skin. But his grip didn’t budge one bit, only growing tighter, his nails digging in through the fabric of your dress and into your neck.

Your desperate pleas for him to let go of you seemed to be useless, lost to the loud music coming from the speakers in every corner of the dance floor. But you couldn't get anything out above a feeble whisper, tears brimming in your eyes while snippets of the last time you went to a bar raced through your brain.

"Why are you so tense? Let's have some fun, baby," Sam pushed and started to grind into you from behind, his dick getting harder with every move, pressing into your behind.

Again, you looked around for the rest of the team, hoping someone would notice your struggle and come over to help. But Ava and Yelena were nowhere to be seen, and Walker must’ve gone out to get some fresh air with Bucky because they weren’t where you had last seen them either. The only team member you could still make out was Bob, sitting at the bar with his back turned to you, waving down the bartender for another drink.

Realising you were on your own in this one, you tried to turn around, to get some leverage on him and were just able to turn your face away when he leant down and tried to press a kiss to your lips. 

“I told you to leave me be,” you repeated forcefully, your flat hand landing on his cheek in a satisfying slap.

An urgent cry left your mouth, then, and the force behind your shove grew stronger, pushing Sam away from you and making him lose his balance. He stumbled back a step or two before he caught himself again, glaring at you.

He pushed up his sleeves again and started to come at you, an evil sneer on his face.

"What's your fucking problem, bitch,” he spat and looked you up and down, stepping closer slowly.

“You dress like that, and then you turn into a prude when -"

He was cut off short when a fist met his jaw and threw him into the people surrounding you, a tooth and a spray of blood flying from his mouth. You looked at who had landed that blow, still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

To your right, there stood Bob, his mouth hanging open a bit and his eyes glowing a dangerous golden colour. You hadn't noticed him getting up from the bar and coming over, but you were deeply grateful for him doing so, scared of what would've happened if he hadn't stepped in.

When he realised what he'd done, he shook his head slightly, the blue returning to his eyes once more, and he got ready to fight. With his fists raised in front of his face, he waited for the other guy to get back up again.

“What do you want, you limp noodle of a man, huh? You just got lucky with that one, fella.” The other guy pointed at Bob before spitting blood onto the light-up dance floor and cracking his neck, walking up to Bob. When he was still a few steps from him, Bob threw another punch, this time with even more force behind it and knocking Sam right out. There was a dark air around him, blackness enveloping his fist and travelling up his arm right before your eyes.

“She told you to leave her alone, asshat,” the Void growled, his voice several shades darker than that of Bob.

Looking at the limp figure before him for a split second, the Void went back in, throwing punch after punch, the black hand glistening from what must have been even more blood. Scared of what he’d do to Sam, you tried pulling Bob off of him, whispering into his ear that it was enough and for him to come back to you.

“Bob, please. He’s down already”, you begged and finally got enough strength to drag him away. Cupping his face, you tried to get Bob to focus on you and the black started to recede from his arms, his bloody hand cradling your face in return. It took a moment for the blue to return to his eyes again, for his jaw to unclench and the deep frown to relax a little.

"Are you ok, [y/n]?” Bob’s voice had gotten softer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of lasting harm. 

"Yeah, I think I just need some fresh air," you murmured and held onto his shirt, your legs feeling like jell-o all of a sudden.

Bob wrapped a protective arm around your back when he felt you dip against his stature and pulled you closer, his eyes going to somewhere behind you. He gulped loudly and you looked over your shoulder at what he’d seen.

"You two!" The security guard pointed at you and Bob, and then motioned for you to get out of there.

"Congrats, you just earned yourself a no-return ticket out of this bar," the guard added, and Bob started sputtering, trying to argue about how Sam had started it, how he was just trying to protect you and that Sam should be the one getting kicked out of the bar instead. Picking up the bloody mess that the Void had turned Sam into, the security guard started for the door, looking over his shoulder as if waiting for us to follow him.

"Oh, don't worry, he's going with you!" The guard pushed Bob towards the back exit, Bob's shoulders slumping a little before making his way out of the group of onlookers, pulling you with him by the hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, trying not to lose him while pushing through the mass.

"Our friends are still inside," you tried when you got outside, but the security guard wouldn't have any of it, telling you 'life sucks' and 'better luck next time' while propping Sam up against the wall of the back alley. Without another word, he made for the back entrance before the door fell shut on him, and then disappeared into the turmoil inside the bar.

Looking around the dark alleyway, Bob scoffed before turning towards you, an angry look on his face.

"What a dick!"

You just shrugged your shoulders and felt tears well up in your eyes again, the shock of the situation wearing down and the fear taking over once more. When you tugged at his hand, Bob looked down, realising he was holding your hand, fingers intertwined, and let go before scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry, I didn't realise..."

He wiped his hands on his shirt, the blood staining the white shirt he was wearing under the flannel, and apologised again. When the first tears started to roll down your cheeks, a sob left your mouth and pulled his gaze back to you. His eyes widened in shock and his jaw went slack again, his brows knitting together in a regretful frown.

"Oh, no... I didn't mean to... [y/n], please don't cry..." He came up to you and cupped your cheeks, looking into your eyes deeply before wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I'm sorry... I just get really clammy hands whenever I feel... overwhelmed… And well, the blood and all…"

The embrace was warm, his arms feeling like a protective blanket wrapping around you, shielding you from any more harm. You sidled up to him, relishing in the comfort the hug offered against the cold air of night-time New York in early December. You stayed wrapped in his arms for a second, silent tears rolling down your cheeks while you tried to gather yourself, listening to the faint sound of his heart beating rapidly.

When you heard the groggy groans of the figure behind you, you tensed again and looked up at Bob, his face breaking further when he saw your tear-stained cheeks.

"Can you please get me out of here," you begged, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he nodded quickly before letting one arm fall down from its place around your frame and cupping your cheek.

"Yeah, sure. Just tell me where to," he affirmed, wiping away the latest tears with the pad of his thumb. When he realised that you were shivering, he shimmied out of his flannel, wrapping it around your shoulders and mumbling ‘here, this should keep you warm’ under his breath.

"Just take me home, please." You pulled the soft fabric around you tighter, the warm scent of cedarwood and vanilla mixed with his own warm smell enveloping your senses.

He nodded again and turned towards the exit of the alleyway, his right arm wrapping around your shoulder again while he led you towards the main street.

~~~

You guys spent the first few minutes of your walk in silence, not sure how to make conversation after what had happened.

That was until you were stood at a red light and Bob turned towards you, his arm having fallen from around you a few blocks ago.

"I'm sorry, I got us kicked out of the bar," he apologised and put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, the uneasy look from earlier making its way back onto his face, knitting his eyebrows together and making him pull his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You really seemed to have a good time until that fucker turned up," Bob went on and you shrugged, the fun from earlier already a distant memory in the racing tornado of thoughts wreaking havoc in your mind.

"It was alright", your voice was low and you kicked at the burger wrapping left behind on the sidewalk, hoping you'd be able to boot the haunting images of past trauma away with it.

"Maybe it's stupid, but I kinda wanted to dance with you up there", Bob admitted, looking off towards the traffic light on the other side of the crossing. 

His fingers were mindlessly fidgeting with the brand label at the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit you had observed so often when you were around him. When his gaze met yours, the small smile playing on his lips sent butterflies to your stomach, a warmth you hadn't felt in ages rushing up your arms and down your back.

"You looked really beautiful, you know. In the lights, lost to the music. Like you were somewhere else entirely and you didn't have a care in the world", he added, a chuckle at the end of his sentence, and his eyes sparkled, reflecting the cool light of the headlights lining the street.

"I would have liked that", you admitted, offering him a warm smile in return before turning your attention to the changing traffic light indicating you were allowed to cross the street.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed that for long though,” he replied, chuckling to himself again, before looking over to where you were walking by his side. “I am a really terrible dancer. Like… I’ve totally got two left feet. Just the thought makes me feel sorry for your toes.”

He struck a pose and wiggled his butt to imaginary music when he reached the sidewalk, looking over his shoulder at you with his bottom lip between his teeth and trying his best to look seductive.

This had you laughing loudly then, holding onto his arm for support and putting your head against his shoulder, your eyes closing in appreciation.

“Thank you! I really needed that right now, Bob,” you got out between laughs and grinned up at him, the butterflies in your stomach making you feel like you were 14 all over again.

“Always at your service, m’lady.” He bowed and winked at you before continuing his way down the street, pulling you with him by the hand.

~~~

“Ok, so, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, but how about we put on some music after and have that dance party”, you suggested, walking through the elevator doors and looking over your shoulder at Bob, who had an easy smile on his face, his cheek a healthy shade of pink from all the laughing.

He put his arms out and grabbed a hold of the lapelles of the flannel you were still wearing, pulling you back closer to him before wrapping his arms around your frame in a tight hug. You snuggled up to him, ignoring the bloody streaks on his shirt and buried your head against his chest.

“What’s that for,” you asked, looking up at him from under your lashes and trying to keep yourself from blushing at the softness in his eyes.

“I just felt like hugging you, that’s all,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “You looked so cuddly in the dim light, wrapped up in my flannel.”

The words left his mouth quietly, barely above a whisper and when he realised he’d said it aloud, his eyes grew wide, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in a thick gulp. After trying to find the right words to reply to this and coming up empty, you pushed up on your tiptoes and put a quick kiss on his cheek. Scared you took it too far, you wriggled out of the embrace and turned to the general direction of your bedroom, leaving Bob standing near the elevator, his fingers repeatedly running over the spot that you had just kissed, his eyes glued to where you had just stood and his mouth opening and closing rapidly.

“Remember, dance party in the living room in ten minutes,” you yelled over your shoulder and vanished in your bedroom.

~~~

You connected your phone to the speakers in the living room, sneaking up to Bob sitting on the couch and wrapped your arms around his neck, a giant grin playing at your lips.

“Ready to dance, Bob,” you whispered in his ear cheekily, drawing out his name and letting your hands run down his chest while your towel dried hair fell around you.

He grabbed your wrists and pulled you over the back of the couch swiftly, making you land with your head in his lap, his hand quickly moving to your hip to keep you from rolling off the couch.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he joked and pulled you up with him, his arm wrapped around you and letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

“Well, if you dance anything like what you showed me down on that street corner, I’m in for a hell of a time.” You pulled your phone from the pocket of the shorts you had gotten into after the shower and looked through your playlist for a good song to start with.

“Here, I think this will be a good one,” you mumbled, choosing ‘Me because of You’ by the Faim, and wiggled your eyebrows at him playfully, when the song started playing over the speakers.

 “Ok, I think I can work with this,” he said, nodding his head and moving the coffee table off to the side to make more room for us to have fun. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck, starting with a simple step-touch and moving his shoulders to the beat of the song.

You studied him for a second, suddenly a little scared of what he might think of you if you just let loose and have fun. He motioned for you to come closer and you followed his request, stepping closer and trying to keep from laughing, when he faked licking his pointer and pinky and smoothing his eyebrows over.

“Come on, you can’t hold back now, [y/n],” he yelled over the music and pulled me closer right when the song said ��dance with me, feel the beat, follow my lead’. He placed your hands on his shoulders and then put his hands on your waist again, starting to waltz with you for a whole two seconds before both of you burst out laughing.

“You wanted to dance with me. So, dance, love,” he added and moved his body to the beat again.

“I’m nervous,” you confessed, running your hands over the clean shirt he put on while you were in the shower, and looked at him, biting your lip restlessly.

“Close your eyes and just imagine I’m not here. You’re alone in your room where no one can see you. And then do what you do,” he tried, brushing a strand of towel dried hair out of your face.

“If it helps, I can close my eyes, too,” he offered and put his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers.

“Fine,” you grumbled and moved away from him a little, turning your back on him but then looking back over your shoulder to make sure he had his eyes covered.

When you saw that he really wasn’t peeking, you started to move and smiled to yourself, feeling the music take over your body and jumping up and down giddily. After a few seconds, you started to sing along and moved freely, turning around and shimmying your shoulders and nodding your head.

“Are you doing it? Are you dancing,” he asked, still covering his eyes but moving his hips to the beat.

You peeled his hands from his eyes and pulled him into the middle of the carpet, making him stumble over his own feet. He opened one eye, looking at your dancing figure, and you tried to hide the smirk playing at your lips. He joined in with dancing and pursed his lips, concentrating on his moves so as not to stumble over his own feet again.

When the chorus started to play for the last time, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer again, and started swaying with you, his head on top of yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours and then moved away from you, extending his arms before stepping in again. He threw your arms over his shoulders and stepped past you before turning around quickly, to repeat this spiel another time, though instead of simply stepping past you, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, swaying from side to side.

Bob sang along to the words, his voice in your ear as his head dipped down a little and then he spun you around and caught you in his arms again more masterfully than he had led on to believe before.

“Tonight, I’ve changed, yeah. I’m only me because of you.” He put his cheek against yours and hummed happily, picking you up and twirling you around.

When the song had ended, he held you in place, your forehead resting against his. His gaze was moving back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his breath having grown a little shallow. You could feel his hand travel up your side and then caress your cheek, his face coming closer until you could feel his shallow breath on your lips, the tips of your noses just millimeters away from each other.

Expecting him to close the last bit of distance, you closed your eyes and turned your head upwards a little, your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The moments until he finally put his lips to yours felt like an eternity, millions of thoughts running through your brain, the anticipation of what it’d feel like to kiss him raising goosebumps across your body. When he finally closed the distance and kissed you, his lips were soft, moving against yours slowly at first and then you deepened the kiss, moving your hand to the back of his head. Your other hand ran up his chest, feeling his pecs flex under your touch. 

When your teeth sank into his bottom lip, he let out a soft moan and you slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring it carefully and moving your tongue in sync with his. His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and he moved you back over to the couch, letting you drop into his lap when the couch hit the back of his legs and he sat down.

You straddled him, your left arm wrapping around him to hold onto the backrest to keep you from falling into him, while your right hand ran through the hair at the back of his head, pulling on it softly, when one of his hands moved up the outside of your thigh to your hip.

He pulled away from you for a second, trying to catch his breath, his mouth hanging open a little while he searched your eyes for any sign of regret. When he couldn’t find any but instead realised that your mouth had split into a bright smile, he chuckled cheerfully and kissed you again hungrily.

With the kisses getting more and more heated, you started grinding into him, the aching need for feeling him closer growing in the pit of your stomach. When you rolled your hips a little extra hard, he groaned deeply and the grip of his hand on your hip grew stronger, a pleasant pain running up your spine and making you throw your head back.

His lips went to your neck, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin and then he started sucking on the pulse point underneath your ear, biting and licking and driving you into overdrive. The fingers buried in his hair pulled on his locks and his growing bulge started to rub up against you just the right way when he bucked his hips in response.

“We… should probably…”, he started in between kisses and you nodded mindlessly, trying to get as much friction from grinding down into him harder. 

“Fuck, [y/n], ok, wait…” He stopped you from moving your hips by wrapping his arm around you and pulling you impossibly close, and then made you look him in the eyes before going on: “I can’t do it like this… If I have you, I want all of you.”

You gulped at this, realising he wasn’t joking and felt your jaw go slack.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I will not let this be how I have you for the first time.” His thumb caressed your cheek and he kissed you softly, his forehead falling to yours, probably fighting the urge to just have you right then and there.

“Then take me to your room, Bob,” you mumbled breathlessly when he pulled away again, nuzzling your face with his in a love-drunken state. You placed soft kisses all over his face, earning a little chuckle from him, when you moved down to his neck, his head falling back to give you more room to work with.

“[y/n], god, you drive me crazy,” he moaned and let his hands slip underneath your shirt, sending shivers down your spine from the tiny sparks his touch left on your skin. Letting out a ‘mh-hm’ in response, you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and kissed him again, your tongue slipping into his mouth easily.

His hands went down your back and held onto your ass when he picked you up in one smooth motion, your legs wrapping around his hips to gain more stability. Your arms snaked around his neck and a chuckle escaped your mouth when he stumbled over the couch on his way out of the living room, holding you in space with one arm while he steadied himself.

“How about we stop kissing until we’re actually in your bedroom,” you joked and he nodded, telling you ‘that’s a good idea’ before making his way over to his bedroom, his steps quick and assertive.

“Wait, we still have to turn off the music,” you realised when you were halfway down the hallway and Bob stopped dead in his tracks, sighing heavily. He looked back over his shoulder and you could see the cogs work behind his eyes, trying to decide what to do.

“Ok, you go turn off the music and I’ll get everything ready?”

Setting you down on the floor, he pecked your lips and then slapped your ass, making you jump a little and hurry back to the living room. You made quick work of turning off the music and grabbing your phone, eager to get back to Bob and what you were doing, running back down the hallway to where his bedroom was. Sliding in through the door, you stopped when you saw that Bob was on the phone with someone, holding up a finger to you just as you wanted to ask what was wrong.

“Oh, no, y’all can stay out longer. No… No. [y/n] wasn’t feeling too hot, so I took her home.” He looked at the floor for a second, scratching his head while trying to understand Yelena over the thumping music on the other side of the line. “I think she’s sleeping already. No… I don’t think she’ll mind! Go have fun, you guys,” he added and then ended the call after telling Yelena goodbye.

“Is everything ok,” you enquired, walking up to him and putting your phone on his desk, the screen lighting up and showing you had a couple of missed calls from Yelena and Ava. He matched you and put his phone down next to yours, before turning back to you and searching your face for a second.

“Yeah, they were just worried where we went and because they couldn’t reach us earlier.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and brushing the hair from the slope of your neck, adding a ‘so, where were we’ before running his fingers over the soft skin under your chin.

“Are they coming back already?” You asked, your head falling back when Bob started to kiss your neck.

“No, there’s this party at another bar they wanna check out.” He bit your neck playfully and then nuzzled the side of your face, telling you that the two of you should be in the clear for the next few hours. He picked you up again and walked over to his bed, dropping you in the middle of the mattress before climbing onto the mattress and kneeling down between your legs.

“Next few hours? What do you have planned,” you asked cheekily, your hands working on taking off his shirt.

“I’m gonna take my time with you, love,” he replied, helping you to get him out of his shirt and kissing you passionately.

Your fingertips ran over his abs and up into his hair again and you pulled him down with you, moaning when his hips settled between yours like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.

“God, you sound so good when you moan,” he whined desperately, his hand caressing your cheek and then running through your hair. “You sound so much better than I could ever imagine.”

“You imagined how I’d sound?” Your voice was barely a whisper, too much anticipation and desire clouding your brain already. The building tension in your core was painful at this point and you could feel your arousal gathering between your legs.

“More often than I’d like to admit, yes.” His kisses were growing hungrier with every passing second, his hands running down your sides, pulling at the fabric of your shirt and digging into the bare skin of your legs. He wanted to feel your skin and memorise every inch of it, having wanted to touch you for months now.

“What did you picture,” you asked, flipping you over and straddling his hips again, pulling your shirt over your head and grinding your hips into his rhythmically. His eyes were wandering over your torso, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he sat up and wrapped his arms around you to work on undoing your bra. When he’d opened the clasp in the back, he slipped the straps down your shoulders, kissing the freckles that dusted your skin there.

“The way you’d sound… How you’d taste…” He pulled your face closer, his fingers on your chin, and placed his lips on yours again, this time slow and deep. His other hand came up to your right breast and cupped it, running his thumb over your nipple hardening from the relative cold in the room. “How you’d look taking me. The way your face breaks when I make you cum…”

He bucked his hips, his clothed erection pushing up into your clit and you gasped, running your fingernails over his abs, your head falling forwards to rest on his shoulder. You moved your hips with his, the layered fabric of your shorts and panties rubbing up against your core with every thrust of his hips. It had been a while since you last were intimate with someone, so you could already feel the knot in your lower stomach begin to tighten, your breath hitching when Bob’s tongue licked over your sensitive nipple before taking your breast into his mouth.

Your hand travelled further south and you lifted your hips, dipping your fingers into the waistband of his joggers, realising he wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath when you made contact with his hot skin. Trying to meet his eyes, you lifted your eyebrows in surprise and he shrugged, letting go of your breast with a popping sound.

“Hey, a guy can hope, right,” he tried to defend himself and smirked at you, when you pushed him down onto the mattress, while your other hand slipped into his joggers fully and wrapped around his hard length. He was bigger than you’d imagined, thicker too, and at the thought of having him inside of you, your pussy started to ache deliciously and eager.

You pumped your hand up his length slowly and his eyes rolled up into his head, his jaw hanging open slightly, a string of curses and whines leaving his mouth. Seeing him enjoy your touch this much, sent you into overdrive, and you moved off his legs, pulling down his joggers with you, before throwing them to the other corner of his room. His erection sprang free and you took in the sight before you, Bob leaning on his elbows, completely naked and looking sexier than you ever dreamt up.

Running your hands through your hair, you felt your cheeks heat up and hid your face in your hands, chuckling to yourself for a second.

“What? [y/n], what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong,” he asked, worry evident in his voice while he moved to sit up a little, his hands on your shoulders.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you started and took a deep breath, letting your hands fall from your face and meeting his eyes. “It’s just been a while and I… Well, I didn’t think I’d ever end up in this situation,” you added, your eyes darting over the smile lines appearing around his eyes and the dimple in his right cheek. “I think, it just hit me that this is happening, you know?”

He nodded, understanding you perfectly well, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kissed you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he laid you down gently, settling between your legs. You deepened the kiss, running your left hand through his dark locks while your right hand travelled down his back and settled on his hips. You wrapped one of your legs around his hip and smiled into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his skin on your own.

“Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And we can take our time, there’s no rush. Not tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting on yours between soft kisses.

“I want you, Bob,” you whispered, searching his eyes, the blue of them having darkened by lust. “I want all of you.”

His face split into a bright grin and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck, hiding his own nervousness by peppering your skin with kisses again. His left hand moved down your side and to the leg wrapped around his hip as he angled his hip a little, his erection brushing up against your core again. You moaned softly and tried to meet him better, your leg snaking around him more tightly.

“If we’re really gonna do this, then we’re gonna do this right,” Bob said, his voice darker than before and sending shivers down your spine.

He pulled away from you, his fingertips moving to the waistband of your shorts and he pulled them down your legs, your panties coming off with them. Bob tossed them over to where his joggers had landed and spread your legs slowly, taking you in and biting on his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling in the dim light from his bedside lamp. He let his fingers dance over the inside of your legs, drawing loose shapes on your skin from your ankles up to your hips and then grabbed one of his pillows from above your head. You lifted your hips and he put the pillow under your ass, settling between your legs and looking at you intently from under his lashes.

“You sure you wanna do this? You can say no or stop me at any time,” he assured you and you nodded, biting down on the knuckle of your index finger in anticipation, butterflies making somersaults in your tummy. He lowered his head and blew on you, earning himself a low whimper from you, the air feeling cold against your wet pussy. He ran a finger up between your folds and chuckled, sending vibrations through your core from how close his mouth was to your center.

“God, you’re already so wet and I haven’t even done anything.”

His finger slipped into your vagina with ease and the squelching sound that was heard by him pulling it out again, made the blush on your cheeks deepen. He pushed his finger back in and then curled it, making you moan his name loudly as he brushed your g-spot. He repeated this a couple of times while his tongue ran along the outside of your folds, slowly making its way inwards. When he finally ran the tip of his tongue up your folds and flicked your clit, your hips bucked, another moan falling from your lips, having him hum in response.

“You taste so good, babe.” He lapped at you and then slowed down again, the tip of his tongue circling your clit and then flicking it with a masterful tab, sending sparks up your spine and making your toes curl. Your fingers buried into his locks again and you pulled on them, pulling him closer in an attempt to get even more friction.

“Mhm, do you like that,” he asked, meeting your gaze and smirking cheekily.

“Yeah, feels good, Bob,” you moaned, your head falling back down and your eyes rolling back when he removed his finger from your hole and circled your pussy with the tip of his tongue. Then, he added another finger up, running them through your folds and back down towards your vagina before thrusting them in, this time a little more forcefully.

You yelped in surprise and pulled on his hair, your legs going a little numb. He waited to move his fingers for a second, looking down at how his fingers had disappeared in you completely and then pulled them back out a bit, curling the same way he did before, brushing over your g-spot again. When he’d found a good rhythm that had you breathing heavily, the knot tightening in your stomach, he put his mouth on you again and pushed you over the edge, your toes curling while your legs tensed around his head. One of your hands left his head to move to the bedsheets, gripping it hard as pleasure rushed over your body like a tidal wave.

“Fuck, Bob, you feel so good.”

You were writhing under him, Bob relentlessly licking up your juices while you clawed at his shoulders and rode the highs of the orgasm coursing through your body. The wet noises of his fingers pumping in and out of you filled your ears and you felt another wave of the orgasm rain down on you when his teeth scraped over your sensitive nub before flicking it again with his tongue. You could feel your walls clamp down around his fingers and then heard him chuckle deeply, before his arm pushed down on your hips, keeping you in place.

He kept at it, fingering you and eating you out, only coming up from between your legs when you started to come down from the high, your breath still rushed and shallow. You ran your hand through your hair, and looked at him, moving up your body, his lips glistening from your arousal and his spit mixed together. He put his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off of them, closing his eyes in ecstasy and the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smile, after he pulled his fingers out again.

“God, that was so hot,” he breathed, putting his lips to yours and kissing you hungrily. You nodded, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand ran down his torso and wrapped around his length again, your thumb wiping over his tip and feeling the sticky precum leaking out of him. With your brain still hazy from your recent orgasm, you pushed him down onto the mattress and started peppering kisses on his neck, moving down to his clavicle and his chest, the nails of your free hands scratching over his chest, while the other one pumped his length slowly.

When you were on the same level with his dick, you looked up at him and opened your mouth, taking him in as far as you could, your hand still wrapped around the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth anymore. You started bobbing your head up and down his length and his fingers ran through your hair, his hand cupping the back of your head and aiding you in keeping an enjoyable rhythm, while whines and moans fell from his lips.

“Oh, fuck. You’re better than I ever imagined,” he whined, his hips bucking and his dick hit the back of your throat. 

Your eyes travelled back up his figure and you opened your mouth a little further, trying to take more of him. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes and your own arousal started running down the inside of your leg, so you moved your free hand to your clit, rubbing yourself while sucking him off.

After a couple more bobs of your head, Bob groaned loudly, his hips tensing and his grip on your hair getting harder. His cum spilled onto your tongue and you swallowed it, humming in enjoyment, while continuing the motion of your hand pumping up and down his length. Feeling another orgasm approaching from your own fingers between your legs, you moaned, some residual cum of his running out the corner of your mouth and dripping on his length.

Biting down on your lips, you looked up at him, his mouth hanging open at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He motioned for you to come closer, pushing your hand away from between your legs to take over while pulling you into his lap again. You rested your head against his shoulder, while his fingers were drawing circles around your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. You could feel that you were getting overstimulated already and whined, wanting to get the release you so desperately needed. Pulling his lips to yours and kissing him hungrily, you moved your hips a little to meet his touch, his fingers slipping into you once more while the pad of thumb brushed up against your clitoris.

“Bob, don’t stop. Please, I’m so close,” you whined, your face falling at the pressure building in your core.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he whispered into your ear and nibbled on your earlobe, thrusting his fingers into you deeper and curling them on their way out.

Feeling his tongue lick over your pulse point was enough to make you fall over the edge again, his fingers brushing your g-spot again and again, sparks flying between your bodies. Your nails dug into his back and you rode his fingers, moaning his name at the top of your lungs.

“God, I love it when you moan my name like that.” 

He put you back down on the mattress, knowing you’d need the support of the bed beneath you, your legs having turned to jelly and shaking from all of the stimulation. Your chest was rising and falling quickly while you tried to catch your breath, absolutely exhausted from two big orgasms so close together.

“Do you need a little break,” he asked, laying down next to you and running his fingers up and down your sides. You turned your head toward his and the look on his face was so soft, caring and full of love, making your heart ache at being the object of his adoration. You nodded, still unable to form words, the last after waves of your orgasm having your ears ringing and your fingertips feeling numb.

Bob pulled you a little closer, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead, and placed soft kisses all over your face, telling you how beautiful you were. How lucky he was to be here with you at that moment. How he never thought this would actually happen.

“You know, I thought you didn’t like me,” you told him, your voice still barely a whisper, your fingers starting to draw circles on his chest while his fingertips did the same on your shoulder blade. “That you didn’t want to spend time with me when the others were gone because you secretly hated me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone as much as I like you,” he said softly, his hand cupping your face and making you look at him, before going on: “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I hated you, but it is clearly the very opposite.”

He kissed you then, softly and with all the love he felt for you. Your lips melted against his and a warmth spread in your chest, creeping up the back of your neck and rolling over your legs and into your tiptoes. This kiss was different, it wasn’t hungry or desperate but still intense in its own way. Even after everything the two of you just did, you felt closer to Bob now, his arms wrapping around you tighter and flipping you on your back again, your legs intertwined lazily and his broad chest like a shield keeping you safe.

You stayed like that for a little while then, making out and exploring each other’s body slowly, your touch soft and meaningful, as if you wanted to memorise every inch of the other’s figure. You couldn’t say how long you were just lying there, enjoying each other’s presence and forgetting everything around you. It could’ve been five minutes or it could’ve been an hour but it didn’t matter to you because you were right where you wanted to be. Wrapped in his arms, having his lips on yours and feeling his delicate touch on your body.

His lips ran over your shoulders, dusting the freckles with love, while your lips grazed his collarbone, your fingers gripping his ass cheeks and earning you a high pitched giggle from him.

“Are you ticklish,” you enquired, a cheeky smirk on your lips and he shook his head vigorously, trying to push your hands off of him.

“No, of course I’m not ticklish. What makes you think that?” He rolled his eyes and tried to put a little distance between you two, his hands swatting at you trying to poke his sides.

“I don’t know. That very manly giggle that just slipped past your lips, maybe,” you teased and his jaw dropped, so threw yourself at him playfully, making him lose his balance and taking you down with him.

“I don’t know what you're talking about. What giggle?” He grinned up at you and cupped your cheek, pulling you down to him and kissing you again passionately.

With your leg thrown over his hip, you could feel him getting hard again and you moved your hips, straddling him once more. You purred softly at his length pressing up against your folds and instinctively grinded down on him, coating the underside of his dick in your arousal. Bob’s hand gripped your hip and he stopped you from moving for a second.

“Wait, I’ve got condoms in the drawer over there,” he murmured, motioning to his bedside table, and his voice broke when you rolled your hips into his again.

“I’m on the pill, so,” you started, kissing him quickly and then added: “I’m good either way.”

He looked at you and for a second, his brows knitted together in a frown. He let his thumb run over your bottom lip and you stopped moving, lifting your hips a little before leaning over to his bedside table.

“I just wanna make sure nothing unexpected happens, you know,” he started to explain and you looked over your shoulder, opening the drawer slowly.

“Bob, hey. It’s ok, really!” Your hand looked for the packet of condoms and took one out when you found it, before turning back to him. “I’m glad you wanna be safe, love.” You cupped his cheek and smiled at him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

You opened the shiny packaging and took out the condom, turning it over in your fingers to have it the right way around. Pinching the tip of it, you looked at Bob and asked him if he was ready. When he nodded, inching closer to you, you grabbed his length and put the condom on, pushing the rubbery material down his length easily. His hand came up to caress your cheek and he kissed you softly, his fingers burying in the hair at the back of your head while you climbed onto him, straddling his hips again.

With your hand still wrapped around his length, you guided his dick along your folds and then lowered onto it, moaning at the burning sensation of his thickness stretching you slowly. Bob’s jaw dropped and he groaned at slipping into you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You stayed there for a second, trying to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up so well and held onto his shoulders before you lifted your hips again slowly. The delicious pain of his size slipping in and out of you made your brain go foggy and you sank down onto him with more ease this time. Picking up the pace, you threw your head back and rode Bob’s dick, his right hand on your breast, kneading the tissue while his tongue worked on the nipple of your other breast. His left hand was on your hip, guiding you as you took him.

“Mhm, you fill me up so well, Bob,” you mused and bounced on him, the pain having turned to pleasure a few thrusts ago. His mouth let go of your breast and he pulled your face down, kissing you hungrily and he bucked his hips into yours and slipping in deeper with the next thrust, bottoming out. You moaned into his mouth loudly and let a giggle fall over your lips as you noticed the familiar feeling of your orgasm nearing.

He stopped moving for a second and turned you around, so you were beneath him and then he grabbed your right leg and moved it from around his hips to have it over his shoulder instead, changing the angle at which he thrusted into you.

Bob groaned against your mouth as he bottomed out again, his balls slapping against your ass with the next thrust and you let out a moan of his name, your nails digging into his back.

“Ugh, you’re so tight, babe. Feel so good,” he slurred and went to town on you, thrusting in and pulling back out, his bed groaning under his movements.

“You gotta tell me if I’m too rough,” he whispered into your ear, enveloping you with his form and leaning on his elbow while his other hand held onto your leg.

“No, it’s good. So good, Bob,” you assured, relishing in the feeling of him filling you up to the brim and stretching you with every thrust. You knew that you were close again, the knot twisting and tightening and you reached between your bodies, your fingers working on your clit while his dick slipped in and out of you at an exquisite pace.

He looked down at where your bodies met and whined, his forehead falling to yours. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room and you were glad that the rest of the team was still out, fearing just how much they would’ve been able to hear of what you two were doing.

“[y/n], fuck, you feel so good. I don’t know how much longer I can…” The movement of his hips got a little sloppy and you kissed him again, steadying him with a hand on his ass while you tried to meet his thrusts with your hip.

“It’s ok, babe. Come, Bob. I’m right behind you,” you purred into his ear and his hips stuttered, a low groan falling from his lips. You moved your hips, helping him ride out his orgasm and kissed his closed lids, when he suddenly thrusted into you harder again, pushing you closer and over the edge.

You fell with him, your third orgasm of the night sending lighting through your whole body. You clung to his body, biting into his shoulder and scratching your nails over his back, earning a wince from him at the pain that seemed to send him into a flurry. Your walls clenched around him as your orgasm progressed and he put his lips on your neck, riding out your shared orgasm, his breathing quick and shallow.

When he came down from his high, he sighed, an exhausted but gratified look on his face, and laid down next to you. You curled up to him, throwing your arm over his chest and putting your head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart and his quick breath.

“Did I hurt you?” The question came suddenly and you looked at him, confused at where the concern was coming from.

“Why are you asking?”

“This was my first time since the medical trial,” he started and turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around your hip.

“No, you didn’t hurt me, Bob. Quite the opposite, actually.” You caressed his cheek and kissed him softly, before adding: “I enjoyed it very much, if you couldn’t tell.”

A proud smile pushed up the corners of his mouth and he shook his head, chuckling lightheaded.

“God, you’re an incredible woman, [y/n].”

[houseofaegon]

Don't Let Go ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. rough sex, emotional sex, public sex, mental health themes (trauma, guilt, PTSD), depictions of breakdowns, emotional, angst, praise kink, possessiveness, aftermath of violence, unprotected p in v, guilt, self-loathing, established trauma bond.

Summary: The mission was supposed to be clean. Routine. But nothing is simple when the Sentry is involved, when Bob loses control, and the Void takes over. And when he does, you're the only one who can pull him back.

Word Count: 4658

Author's Note: don't even ask me if I'm okay cause the answer is no. I'm destroyed. completely destroyed and emotionally wrecked. i am ruined. bob reynolds ruins me. if you finished this and also felt like your heart's been pulled out and kissed back to life, welcome to the club. my inbox is open if you want to send me your therapy bill—just know I’m probably gonna have to come with you cause what the fuck. i love you bobby you're everything to me!!! if you want to be added to my taglist just comment below!! <333 feel free to cry with me in the comments and scream in the reblogs. i need to go outside and touch some grass, reconnect with nature and breathe cause my heart is destroyed after this one. i literally can't stop writing for bob what the hell!! bucky is jealous cause bob's taking up space in my mind that used to belong to bucky. lewis pullman you babygirlllllllllllll

masterlist.

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The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out. Detain the targets, secure the entire facility, and minimize civilian casualties. Standard Thunderbolts cleanup. You'd done this dance before—storm in, assert dominance, extract data and bodies. Easy.

But you knew the moment Bucky said, "Bob's on this one," everything in your chest went cold.

The tower was quiet, too quiet, until it wasn't. Until the entire place was filled with hurried footsteps, shouts bouncing off the walls, and orders being thrown like grenades, gear bags being slammed open, weapons loaded with sharp clicks, and comms lighting up with rapid-fire intel. The whole floor shifted into emergency mode.

You'd barely finished gearing up when Yelena grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the elevator, her expression tight, mouth set in that grim, no-bullshit line that only ever meant bad news.

"Valentina wants all of us on-site," she muttered, pressing the call button with enough force to crack the panel. "Right now. Facility breach. Something about biotech. Hostages."

"Since when do we scramble before briefing?" you asked, yanking the zipper of your new tactical suit closed, holster strap still half-loose dangling on your hip. "Do we even have a plan?"

Yelena didn't answer. She didn't have to.

When the elevator doors opened, Bucky was already inside, pacing back and forth. His jaw clenched, comms piece buzzing with chatter. He looked up when he saw you—but he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod.

Jeez, so much for a good morning.

"Let me guess," you said, stepping into the elevator next to him. "Valentina's stunt?"

"She pulled Bob in last minute," Bucky said, his voice laced with frustration. "Didn't even care to fucking tell me. I found out when I saw his name on the team feed. Walker's there with him, Ava too."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you froze. "She put him first? With Walker?"

“She wants to see if he's still 'field-capable.'" Bucky's voice dripped sarcasm. "Her exact words. She thinks this is some kind of game. Like we're testing out a new drone, not a man who nearly blacked out half of a city six months ago."

“Is she out of her fucking mind?” you hissed. “Bob’s not—he’s not ready. He shouldn't be anywhere near this.”

“No shit,” Yelena muttered from the other side, crossing her arms. “And we’re the ones who’ll have to clean up if he loses it again.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to damp down the rolling anger in your chest. Not at Bob—of course not, this wasn't his fault. You were mad at Valentina and her fucking need to push him to the edge. "Great," you muttered, rubbing your face with a hand. "Let's all just hold hands and pray he doesn't crack."

The VTOL sliced through the clouds like a blade, engines humming low and tense. Rain battered the sides in sharp bursts.

You sat strapped between Yelena and Alexei, your harness tight across your chest, heart beating even tighter beneath it. Across from you, Bucky was locked in, jaw clenched, staring out the side window with a look that could shatter the glass any moment. When he finally looked away from the window, he fixed his gaze directly on you.

"I need you to be ready," he said, voice low and rasped. "In case Void—" He paused, breathing raggedly. "In case Bob snaps."

You blinked. "Bucky—"

"If it happens," he cut you off, "if he breaks... don't wait for an order. Do not hesitate. You hit him with everything you've got."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because you hesitated.

Not because you didn't understand the danger. Not because you didn't know what Bob was capable of when the Void took hold. You'd seen it. Firsthand. The devastation. The aftermath. The look in his eyes—those dark, endless eyes—when he realized what he’d done.

But you'd also seen something else. You'd also seen the other side of him. The guilt

You'd been there the last time. When the Void clawed its way up his throat like poison, he dropped to his knees, shaking, burning with power, guilt, and fear. You were the only one who could get through to him. The only one who could touch him without him recoiling like he might shatter.

You'd whispered his name and watched his fist unclench slowly. You'd put your hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat slow. You'd seen how the black storm slowly evaporated, leaving a broken man sobbing against your chest.

That night was the worst for Bob.

You remember it vividly—his body trembling against yours, eyes wide and hollow after the Void had finally disappeared. He hadn't said a word. Just sank to the ground, hands fisting in his hair, like he was trying to hold his skull together.

You’d dropped down beside him, pulled him close, felt the heat radiating off his skin like a fever breaking. And when he finally clung to you—arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder—it wasn’t just desperation. It was terror. Like if he let go, he’d fall into some pit that never ended.

He cried.

God, he cried so hard.

And you didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to soothe it away. You just held him. Let him shake. Let him break.

That night, you stayed with him.

He pulled you into bed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it—just moved toward your body like it was instinct, like your presence was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His fingers curled in your shirt, his face buried in your chest, breath hiccuping between exhausted sobs.

You thought he’d fall asleep eventually.

He didn’t. Not right away.

He kept whispering, voice barely audible: “Don’t leave. Please. Just… don’t leave.”

And how could you?

You didn’t.

So you stayed.

And when he finally passed out—curled around you like a second skin, little soft snores slipping past parted lips—you just watched him. His face was peaceful for once. Almost boyish. His lashes fluttered when he dreamed, but he didn’t cry out. Not with you there.

You tried to slip out once.

Just to stretch. To breathe. But the second your body shifted away, his arms tightened like a vice, dragging you back in, even in his sleep. Like his subconscious couldn’t bear the thought of you disappearing.

From that night on, it became… a thing.

Every time he had a nightmare. Every time the Void started to whisper again. Every time he needed quiet but didn’t know how to ask for it—he came to you.

He never knocked loud. Just a soft tap on your door, barely audible. You’d open it to find him standing there, shoulders hunched, hair messy, eyes big and guilty and so shy. Like he hated himself for needing you but couldn’t help it.

“Can I…?” he’d start to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

And you’d always let him in.

Always.

God, you loved it. Loved being the one person he came to. The one place he felt safe. The way he melted into you the second the door shut. The way he’d sleep tangled in your arms, legs hooked with yours like he needed as many points of contact as possible to stay grounded.

You never told anyone.

You never wanted to ruin it.

It was quiet. Sacred. Yours.

And now, strapped into this VTOL, Bucky’s words still echoing in your ears—“Don’t hesitate. Hit him with everything you’ve got”—all you could think about was how peaceful he looked in your bed. How tightly he held you. How terrified he was of being alone.

Because what if you could reach him again?

What if hitting him wasn’t the answer? What if all he needed was someone to see him before he disappeared completely?

Bucky must’ve seen the flicker in your expression, because his voice dropped lower.

“I know you’re close to him. I know he listens to you more than anyone else. But if that stops—if he doesn’t hear you this time... don’t let him take you down with him.”

He’ll hear me, you thought, jaw clenched.

He has to.

Yelena’s hand reached over, slow and steady, her fingers brushing against yours before curling around them. Her grip was warm, firm—anchoring. You turned slightly, meeting her eyes.

She gave you a small, quiet smile. The kind that didn’t promise everything would be okay, just that you wouldn’t be alone when it wasn’t.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered. "We'll be right behind you."

You squeezed her hand back, once.

"Visuals confirm contact inside the facility," the pilot’s voice crackled through the comms. "We’ve got movement near the lab sector. Hostiles engaged. Sentry’s already on-site."

You looked up sharply. "Already?"

He wasn’t supposed to engage alone.

Bucky swore under his breath, ripping the earpiece out and jamming it back in. "Why the fuck didn’t you wait for us—"

Ava spoke through the comms, her voice shivering. “He didn’t wait. I told him to stand down, and he just… went in.”

Then the ground came into view through the viewport—flames licking up from the roof of the biotech facility, smoke pluming into the sky, the perimeter in total disarray.

"Doors open in twenty seconds," the pilot called.

You shivered. You could feel it. That humming tension in your bones, the kind that only came right before everything went to hell.

He's already slipping.

"Get ready," Bucky barked, snapping his rifle into place as he stood. "Move fast, eyes sharp. We don't know how bad it is yet."

Yelena stood up, nodding once, checking her gear. You followed closely behind.

“Hostiles are still active inside,” came another voice—Walker’s, sharp and panicked over comms. “But it’s—fuck, it’s a massacre down here. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. I can't see him. He’s not fucking responding.”

Your heart clenched.

“Bob,” you whispered, barely audible.

Then: a boom.

A section of the lower level erupted in a plume of golden-white light, fire tearing up through the concrete as the building shook from the force of it. A pulse of energy rippled outward, flattening a chunk of the south wall like paper.

The VTOL lurched slightly from the shockwave.

“Doors opening!” the pilot shouted. “Deploy, deploy—go, go!”

The ramp dropped—and the storm hit you in the face.

Rain. Smoke. Sirens. And somewhere beneath it all, a familiar hum.

You ran.

Boots pounding against the rooftop, leaping the last few feet to the access hatch. Bucky and Yelena flanked you, weapons drawn, slicing through the chaos with practiced precision.

You barely had time to adjust before Bucky grabbed your arm, spinning you toward him. His face was grim, soaked, eyes blazing.

“Go!” he shouted over the roar. “You need to find him!”

“What about—?”

“We’ll handle the rest!” he cut in, already moving, already aiming down the chaos below. “If anyone can reach him before he turns this whole goddamn place to ash—it’s you. Yelena will be right behind you. Walker and Ava are already inside. Go!”

Your breath hitched.

Then you nodded, once, sharp and sure.

And you ran—straight into the smoke, straight into the fire.

Straight toward him.

The inside of the facility was a warzone. Emergency lights flickered through thick smoke. Sparks rained from broken ceiling panels. The walls were scorched, the tile beneath your boots cracked and slick with blood and water. You passed fallen bodies—some hostiles, some just gone, disintegrated into scorched outlines and ash.

He’d been here.

You ran faster. Your breath became shorter. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

And then you saw him.

Floating.

Just inches off the ground, his body trembling with power barely held in check. His suit was torn, soaked, blood-slick. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled in like claws.

He hand't noticed you yet. He was talking to himself, low and frantic, like he didn't even realize sound was coming out of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to—I tried, I tried, they didn’t listen—I told them not to run—why did they run—”

Your heart clenched. You took a breath, steady and slow. Lifted your hands, palms open, non-threatening. Stepped forward, one careful step at a time.

"Bob," you whispered.

His head jerked up like a struck animal. His eyes were pitch black. Not just his pupils. Everything. You could see the Void slowly taking over control of his entire body. Crawling across his skin in veins of shadow, threading through him like poison, claiming more and more by the second. There was nothing human in his face.

Then he saw you.

You took another step forward, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Bob," you said again, softer now.

His lips parted. The black in his eyes shimmered, like something beneath it was trying to break through, trying to remember.

You took another step.

"I'm here," you said, voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "It's me."

"GET DOWN!" a voice screamed behind you.

You barely turned in time to see the soldier—young, shaken, finger already tightening on the trigger of his rifle, aimed straight at Bob.

“No!” you shouted, throwing a hand out. “Don’t—don’t shoot him!”

But it was too late.

You whipped back toward Bob—and his hand was already rising. Not fast. Slow. Deliberate.

Eyes locked on the soldier, face blank and unreadable, voice low and distant.

“Mine.”

“Bob!” you screamed, adrenaline tearing through your veins like lightning. You rushed toward him, arm outstretched. “STOP! STOP!”

A pulse of black energy burst from his palm. It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t explode. It just erased. The soldier was there—and then he wasn’t.

No scream. No blood. Just a curling wisp of smoke, and a blackened shadow scorched into the tile where he’d stood. Like reality itself had been scrubbed clean.

Your breath caught. Your body froze.

The soldier was gone. Just like that. And Bob? He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. Just stood there, hand still raised, void energy curling around his fingers like it wanted more.

You moved before you even realized it.

You ran.

“BOB!” you screamed, voice hoarse with panic.

You slammed into him, hands flying up to grab his face—rough, desperate, grounding. Your fingers dug into his jaw, into his cheeks, trying to feel him, shake him loose from the darkness overtaking his body.

“Bob! Look at me!” you yelled, tears already slipping down your face. “Fuck—look at me, please!"

His head twitched in your grip, eyes still black, but they widened. Like he didn’t know how you got so close. Like he didn’t even recognize his own name.

“You promised,” you choked out, forehead pressed against his. “You promised you wouldn’t let this happen again. You said I could help you. You let me in. Bob, please, I know you can hear me. Let me in. Let me help you."

And then—

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The black void in his eyes gone, replaced by fear. Replaced by gut-wrenching guilt.

And suddenly his hands were on you—gripping your arms, trembling hard. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, voice splintering in his throat. “I just… he—he pointed that gun at you. I—”

His knees buckled.

You caught him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped again, clinging like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, fingers stroking through his hair, down his back. “I know, it’s okay. You’re okay—I got you. I'm right here."

You could feel it under your hands—the tension building again. The static crawling across his skin. He was shaking harder now, like he was trying to hold himself together with bare hands and sheer will, and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“I told them,” he growled, voice rising, wild and hoarse. “I told them not to send me. I told them—I told them!”

“Bob,” you tried again, your hands cradling his face, trying to ground him. “Stop—just breathe, okay? Look at me. Just look at me. It’s over. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Bob—”

“Holy shit,” someone gasped.

You turned. Too fast. The team stood there. Yelena’s eyes were wide. Ava’s mouth hung open. Alexei looked stunned. Bucky was frozen mid-step.

And Walker? Walker’s gaze went straight to the scorched mark on the floor, and his lip curled.

“What the fuck did he do?”

That was it.

You snapped.

“You were supposed to look out for him!” you roared, your voice echoing down the hall like a whipcrack. “You knew he wasn’t ready! You knew, and you left him in there anyway—what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Don’t yell at me because your little pet project finally snapped—”

You stepped toward him so fast Yelena actually reached out to stop you.

“Say that again, Walker.” you dared, low and deadly. “Say it. Fucking say it again.”

“Guys—” Ava started.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered behind you.

And that’s when you realized—Bob wasn’t in your arms anymore.

You turned, panic already in your throat. He was standing a few feet away, eyes locked on the floor, fists clenched. His shoulders were shaking, his jaw tight, like he was about to split open.

The way they were all looking at him. Like he was a monster.

And he saw it. He saw everything.

“No, no, wait—” you started.

But he was already moving. He shoved past you, not roughly—never roughly—but like he couldn’t stand to be touched anymore. Like he didn’t deserve it. And then he ran.

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran after him.

You found him down a back alley, drenched in rain, his back pressed to the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His fists were clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath. He hadn’t looked at you yet, but you could see it—how close he was to falling apart, how the power still surged beneath his skin, barely contained. His body shook with it, with guilt, with the kind of rage that didn’t know where to go.

You took a step closer and he shifted like he was going to bolt again, eyes flicking to the shadows like he could vanish into them.

You grabbed his wrist. Tight. “Don’t run.”

That stopped him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t turn.

“Bob,” you said, softer now, over the pounding rain. “Please. Look at me.”

He turned slowly—and god, the look on his face broke you wide open. Soaked, shattered, eyes full of guilt and too many unsaid things. He looked like he didn’t believe he deserved to stand in front of you. Like just being seen by you hurt.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate.

Like he needed your mouth to remind him he was still real.

The kiss came out of nowhere. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation. You collided like two storms, all sharp edges and soaked skin. His mouth crushed yours, messy, uncoordinated, bruising. You dragged your hands through his rain-slick hair, pulled him closer until your bodies slammed together. He groaned your name like it hurt to say it, like it ripped something open inside him just to speak it.

You kissed him back with everything you had, dragging your fingers through his soaked curls, pulling him closer, crushing your lips to his until your teeth clacked and your breath fogged the air between you. He whimpered into it, raw and broken, hands clutching your waist through your suit like he didn’t know where to touch, like he needed to touch everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against your lips, voice already hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry—please, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—” His words cut off with a sob. You shushed him with another kiss, slower this time, lips brushing his like a promise.

“I need you,” he breathed, voice broken. “God—I need you, I need you so bad—I can’t—fuck—don’t let go—please, don’t let go—”

Your gear hit the wall behind you, water slapping between you like applause. His mouth was on your throat, biting, sucking, moaning, as your hands worked beneath his already ripped suit, shoving it aside, frantic to get to skin. His hips rocked into yours like he couldn’t stand being apart from you even for a second.

“Please,” he groaned again, breath hot against your ear. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Just—fuck—just let me have you.”

You gasped, arching against him, letting him press you tighter to the bricks. You were already soaked—skin flushed, thighs shaking—and the way he clung to you like you were the only real thing left in his world snapped something open inside you.

You grabbed his face, kissed him hard, desperate. “Take it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Take anything. Everything. I’m all yours, Bob.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—and that was it.

Your suit came undone in ragged pieces, his hands tearing at fastenings with trembling fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist as he shoved your soaked underwear aside. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, grinding his cock against your slick center until you cried out, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so wet,” he gasped. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to lose it for you—inside you—?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, tilting your head back as he pushed in. “Yes, yes—please—”

He thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke and you screamed, fingers clawing at his soaked suit, legs tightening around his hips. He was so deep, so hot, so real, and the way he fucked you—fast, rough, relentless—was like he didn’t know if he’d survive without this. Without you.

Every thrust hit something raw, something needy, his voice ragged against your ear. “You’re mine—you’re mine, say it—fuck, say it—”

“I’m yours,” you cried, body shaking. “I’m yours, Bob—fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He sobbed against your throat, thrusting harder, faster, panting between curses and broken prayers. “You’re perfect—so perfect—god, you feel so good—you make everything quiet. You make it all fucking stop—”

And when you came, it hit like a shockwave—your whole body convulsing around him, mouth open in a wordless scream as he slammed into you, burying himself deep and coming hard, spilling inside you with a desperate cry of your name like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He held you afterward like he might never let go, still shaking, still breathing like he’d run through hell. His forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, and this time, it was a vow.

His breathing was ragged.

Shallow gasps against your neck, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to outrun something only he could see. The rain hadn’t let up. It fell in heavy sheets around you, but neither of you moved. You stayed wrapped around him, trembling, your back against the soaked alley wall, his body still buried in yours, shaking with the aftershocks.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even lift his head.

His arms stayed locked around your waist like a vise, like if he let go even a little, you’d disappear. You felt him swallow, once, twice—and then his shoulders began to shake in a different way.

“Bob?” you whispered, hand sliding up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his soaked hair. “Hey. Hey, I’m here.”

He sobbed.

Quiet at first. Just a ragged breath that stuttered out of him like it had been waiting for too long. Then another. And another. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he finally—finally—let himself fall apart.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he choked out. “I tried—I tried so fucking hard—I just wanted to be useful, I wanted to help—and I killed him—”

You shushed him softly, rocking him gently where you stood, your hands stroking down his back.

“You came back to me,” you said, voice low. “That’s all that matters. You came back.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he rasped, holding you tighter. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “You do. You do. You’re still here. You’re still you. That’s all I care about.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever—him wrapped around you like a lifeline, your bodies still locked together, breathing in sync. The heat between you slowly cooled, but the weight of it all stayed heavy, real.

Eventually, his head lifted, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe you were real. Like maybe you were the only thing left in the world that hadn’t abandoned him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, thumb brushing over the scar just below his eye.

“I know,” you said. “But I’ve got you.”

And he leaned into your hand like a man starved for touch.

Back at the tower, everything was chaos—shouting, agents scrambling to do damage control, the team fighting with each other, trying to put the blame on someone—but none of it touched you. Not when you had him. Not when he never once let go of your hand.

You didn't go to the infirmary. Didn't sit through the debrief. Bucky tried to say something, but you just shook your head. Bob didn't even look at him. At no one.

You led him straight to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his body sagged like the air had left him entirely. You helped him out of the rest of his suit, piece by piece, your fingers gentle even when your heart still ached from the weight of it all. He did the same for you, so soft, so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

You pulled him into your bed without a word.

He followed like he always did. Like he couldn’t not.

He wrapped around you the way he always did—legs tangled, arms tight around your waist, face buried against your neck. But this time it wasn’t just comfort.

It was clinging.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just held on.

You stroked his hair, tracing slow patterns into his scalp, letting your breath match his until he calmed, until that tremble in his shoulders finally stilled.

But he still didn’t sleep.

You felt him shift closer, nose brushing your collarbone. His voice, when it came, was wrecked and so, so quiet.

“Do you think they’ll ever look at me the same?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

You didn’t answer right away. You could feel how tightly he was holding his breath, like he was bracing for the worst. You pulled him closer, your fingers threading through the back of his hair, your lips brushing against his forehead.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “They know it. Even if they won’t say it out loud. This—what happened—you didn’t want this. And they know that.”

He didn’t reply, not at first. But you felt it—the way his chest stuttered, how he finally let himself breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken.

“I know.”

“I was so close,” he said, voice cracking like glass. “I could feel it. Like I was right there. One more second and I wouldn’t have come back.”

“But you did,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “You came back to me.”

He shuddered, breath hitching again as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Leaving a soft kiss that made your heart clench. “You’re the only one that brings me back,” he whispered. “The only one.”

You didn’t say anything else.

You just held him tighter.

And finally—finally—he started to drift.

It wasn’t peaceful. He twitched. Mumbled things you couldn’t make out. Flinched like his dreams were still trying to drag him under.

But he didn’t wake.

Because you were still there.

And he knew it.

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @ruexj283 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

[haziells]

my way

until it reaches the void state

(this will be a long post)

1. the end, the beginning.

I knew about the law of attraction years ago thanks to social media, so there it was, like every day trying to manifest my desires.

I was fed up, every day was the same.

My heart healing and breaking everyday, the same cycle of hope and hopelessness continues.

was it always going to be like this?

would I always have to let fears take over me?

I couldn't trust, I didn't believe that just by believing I could get what I wanted but at the same time I had no other option.

I couldn't go on like this, I didn't want to go on like this, I just wanted to end my life, I gave up and cried, cried, cried thinking that this would be the end, that I wouldn't be able to be happy and that was it.

I gave up and thought I was resigned to living a shitty life.

But I cried so much that all the sadness that was in me came out, all the fears that were clinging to me came out.

That's when I felt peace, when I realized that no, I wasn't going to give up that easily, that I first have to do it and do it well, not keep trying.

So I persisted for only 2 days, as I already had my desire for that moment and yes, after 2 days my 3D had already reflected it, it was exciting.

did i reallt do that? was it just a coincidence?

No, it was really me.

I was happy for a few days until the fears returned but this time I was afraid of losing my desire, that's when I realized that fears have no meaning.

I already have it, why would I lose it?

2. I discovered Tumblr and the void state.

I didn't know what void state was, but as soon as I read about it, it caught my attention.

By then my self-concept had improved, I was still dealing with my fears but not as much as before.

So, I made a friend who explained to me more about the void state and she told me that she manifested her house through the void state.

I got excited and hopeful, I read some methods on how to get in and tried to do it, but I couldn't.

I couldn't do it, the simple idea of getting everything so easily sounded easy and fantastical to me.

But one day I realized who I really am, that I am everything, that nothing and no one has power outside of me.

I was filled with satisfaction, joy, peace, I felt like laughing knowing who I am and how easy everything is.

How did I first enter the void state?

so I had a subliminal audio playing in the background while I was meditating.

I thought...I am so powerful, I am capable of anything, I can have whatever I want whenever I want.

At that time I was very sleepy because I had taken some exams, so I just thought "my physical body is going to sleep and rest and I'm going to the void state"

After all, the void state is me and there is nothing easier than being me.

And so it happened, I entered the void state and knew that I already had everything just as I wanted, then I came out and continued sleeping while I didn't stop smiling and feeling a sensation of peace and extreme happiness.

I woke up and stood calmly until I realized what had happened...

I was scared shitless when I realized that I had entered the void state for real and that at that moment I should have everything I wanted and that was when 3d reality disappeared before my eyes.

Everything began to collapse and I felt a huge current of energy running through my entire body, as if it were a waterfall flowing inside me.

I was very scared, I won't deny it, but after all I did it.

(I swear that just as you see in the gif, that's how I felt at that moment)

The following days I couldn't stop shaking and feeling scared because I didn't understand how it was possible that 3D could disappear just like that.

Then I read someone here talking about non-dualism. @lotusmi

Then I understood my experience.

Since that day everything is much easier for me.

I have entered the void state 3 times.

that manifests?

.cure my depression.

.cure my anxiety.

.trust myself.

.longer eyelashes.

.money.

.be able to manifest easily.

.prettiest voice.

.I am spoiled.

The rest of the things I manifest are more private.

But basically for me this is the best thing that could have happened to me.

I will mention who were the bloggers that I read to understand more about the void state and about who I really am.

@gorgeouslypink

@lotusmi

@beesfairlyland

I will also mention a blogger whose information I also like and I find it cute.

@sugarplumfairy777

If you want to know more, you can send me a direct message, no problem.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Inside｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

You’ve never been raw-dogged and filled before, Simon wants to change that

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of drinking and eating food from the ground, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie (obvi), clothed man/unclothed woman, a little ass smacking, cockwarming, bit of an ownership kink and possessive!Ghost, lots of swearing WC: 2k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Stakeouts were boring on the best of days, but add in the fact that your partner for the foreseeable future was a brick wall who absolutely refused to make any sort of conversation, you were dying. If you had been stationed with Gaz or Soap, hell even Price, you could have had some entertainment as you sat on the metal folding chair and watched an empty apartment.

But Ghost was nothing if not exceedingly capable of subverting your expectations.

“You ever try buzzballz?” You shifted on your seat, trying to get your numb ass to wake up.

Simon didn’t even look at you.

“Thought not. You’re more of a bourbon guy or beer, but that’s kinda lame.” He grunted under his breath, you took that as affirmation. “Anyways, after that last mission, Soap somehow got his grubby hands on a few of the big ones which are the equivalent of like 12 shots and I’m telling you, they were fucking florescent blue. My tongue was stained the next day.”

He reached for the pack of chewing tobacco in his vest pocket, an unfortunate solution to not being able to go for a smoke any time he needed to. You unconsciously watched his gloved fingers poke through the pocket before catching yourself and turning back to the grimy window you had been previously staring out of.

“But I don’t even know what was in those drinks because suddenly, it’s midnight and this fucker is telling me about how creampies are the best feeling in the world. And I know we’re teammates and we’ve literally seen each other naked in those communal showers on base but somehow that was just a step too far y’a know.” You don’t notice the way your companion stiffened.

“And it was totally gross! Like I have seen that man scarf a sausage that had been on the ground for god knows how long so I can’t imagine that getting creampied would be that pleasant if he’s so obsessed with it. I just can’t even imagine the cleanup either! It would be-“

“’S nice.”

Your head snapped to look over at Ghost so quickly that your neck popped. “What.”

He cleared his throat, brown eyes still staring straight ahead though you suspected he wasn’t looking for the target. “Said ’s nice, cummin’ in someone I mean.” Your face must’ve been shocked as all hell because he finally looked at you, his already dark eyes now voids behind the skull mask. “Feels good. Really fuckin good.”

Heat exploded across your cheeks, his voice was deeper than it normally was, with a rasp that went directly to your center. 

“I’ve never…” 

He huffed under his breath something akin to a laugh, it was almost mocking. “Figured.”

You forced yourself to look back out the window, even as the thrumming between your legs got worse with every tension-filled second that passed. Ghost was as sexy as he was mysterious; towering over everyone in your squad, there was no question the man was big and you, in some demented part of your brain, wondered if it was proportional. You had never even seen his face but it was often his voice, his hands, that fueled your late night fantasies alone in your bunk.

And you suspected that he knew, especially right now.

“Gets so hot, and tight, feels like your markin ‘er from the inside. Ya keep yourself in as deep as possible as she’s fightin cause it’s too much, but ya keep going.” You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, but instead it slipped quietly from your lips— a whimper sliced through the dingy apartment, and Simon kept talking.

“Ya go till it hurts, fucking it back in and then yer ready to go again… and again… till she can’t even scream anymore. and you’ve stained the sheets beneath you” You gripped the material of your pants so tightly, they would rip if you suddenly jerked. He must’ve known what he was doing to you, but nothing about the way he was slumped down in his own chair, eyes forward, fingers lazily tracing the seam of his kevlar vest said ‘I want to fuck you into the ground too’.

“I could show ya, not much else to do right now.” Your breath caught as he laid a large hand onto your plump thigh, well that definitely screamed it. 

“Lt-“

“I’ll keep watch, you just need to bounce. You’ll be good and do that fer me won’t you soldier, so I can show you how good it feels.” Like a trance had come over you, you rose from the seat, your fingers flying to the buckle of your belt as Simon’s hand curved around to the fat of your ass.

“You sure it’ll feel good?” His mask remained blank but the way his grip on you tightened and his thick thighs spread told you everything you needed to know. 

“Why are you questioning me when I gave you an order, soldier?” His own belt popped open with a clink and the zipper of his fly slid down, letting you catch a glimpse of what you had been craving so badly. 

“Sorry sir.” The words were spit out just like they had been trained to, earning a slightly less displeased huff from your superior. You kicked off your already unlaced boots having undone them the moment you got into the apartment and soon your pants and panties joined the ever-growing pile of your clothes.

“And the top.” He growled, squeezing the mass of his cock. “Doing this fer you, remember.” You nodded and yanked off the t-shirt you were all-too-glad to get rid of, leaving you standing before him just in your ratty sports bra that did very little to contain your tits.

Simon’s breath shuddered before he gestured to the thick material. “Yessir.” You threw it to the side, finally leaving yourself bare to his molten gaze. Your arms itched to cover the expanse of your curves but your mind refused to disobey, even as the man before you froze save for the heaving of his massive chest.

He studied every inch of you, from the seam where your thighs met to the plushness of your plump stomach, from your strong arms to the way your tits sat just waiting for his touch. You watched with the keen eye of a sniper as his bare forearm tensed and released, the tendons working as he squeezed himself over the material of his pants.

“Can we start sir?” You dared to ask, half-expecting an immediate rejection, but he just chuffed and pulled himself from the open fly.

“Damn impatient thing.” To say he was big was an insult— he was monstrous. Thick and uncut with a dense thatch of hair that you knew would scrape against your clit perfectly when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. A bead of hazy liquid builds on the very tip of his substantial length and you wondered briefly how white-hot it would feel when it was inside of you.

“Gettin’ cold here soldier.” His thighs spread apart even wider, enticing you to come closer. You wanted to ask if it would even fit but you doubted it would make a difference. 

The muscles of his shoulders just barely gave way as you gripped onto them, your nails digging in deep as you swung a leg over his bulky hips, settling onto his lap. His cock rested between you, nestled against the softness of your cunt, getting wetter with your combined arousal. His eyes sparkled while he watched you slowly get comfortable with the feel of him.

“C’mon angel, don’t have all day. Price ’s coming to relieve us at 0300 and I’ll need at least two rounds outta you.” You were jolted forwards by his leg shoving you up, making you hover over his head.

Shoving a shaking hand between your bodies, you took ahold of him and lined him up with your dripping entrance. A worried breath escaped you and then, you sank down, swallowing him whole. 

“Fuuuuuuck.”He hissed through his teeth while all words vanished from your mind. It burned and ripped through you but nothing had ever felt as good as this, like his cock was perfectly tailored to fill you up just the way you needed it. Simon’s hands flew to your wide hips, gripping them with just force that you knew there would be ugly-looking bruises you’d have to explain away later.

His hips canted up, unable to stop himself from forcing himself even deeper, chasing the tightness of your cunt. “Si.” You sighed, head falling to the crook of his neck, earning you another punch upwards.

“Takin’ it so fuckin well, knew you fuckin would. Made fer my fuckin cock weren’t ya. Shoulda done this the first time ya looked at me with those fuckin eyes.” His accent grew deeper with every thrust, his words getting more and more unintelligible as your joint pleasures mounted.

You slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, desperately trying to meet his brutal pace, earning a muffled groan of approval. A gloved palm met your bare ass with a harsh slap, forcing a loud moan from you. 

“That’s it angel. Just needed to be properly fucked didn’t ya? All quiet now, my perfect little soldier.” Your teeth sank into his neck as the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. “So close ain’t ya, need that little bit more.”

“Please Si, please.” He immediately shoved your legs further apart to fit his hand between you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finding your throbbing clit as his cock hammered against your g-spot.

With only two jerky circles, you shattered above him. You back bowed as your forced yourself down to the hilt, you pussy rippling around him while Simon struggled to fuck you through your high. 

“Gonna make me cum angel. Gonna show you how good it fuckin feels to be filled.” His thrusts grew sloppy but his words continued to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily at this point. “Mark you as fuckin mine.” He snarled.

Your body shook with the power of him, it took all your strength just to take it, let him use and fill you. His cock started to twitch inside of you threateningly. You wanted him to do it, to prove to you how good it felt to be owned from the inside.

“Cum inside, wanna feel all of you.” Your lips brushed against where his ear was beneath the mask, your breath sending goosebumps all over his body. “Make me yours.”

His muscles seized below your palms, rippling and moving so beautifully that you never wanted it to end. He buried himself all the way inside you as he let out a beautiful, raspy moan. Heat exploded deep inside of you, spreading through your veins like a hot bath on a cold winter's day. The feeling of his so deep within you as his cock began to soften was unlike anything you had experienced before and suddenly you knew why the Scot was so obsessed with it.

Simon finally went limp below you, though made no move to remove you from his lap nor your cunt from around his cock. You settled against his chest, now overly aware of your nakedness and the fact that he was still fully clothed, including that stupid skull mask, though you weren’t wholly opposed to it. His arms encircled you, jerking you a bit as he did something behind your back before he hugged you close.

“Look at me angel.” Your hazy gaze turned upwards, meeting the intoxicating brown of his irises. A now bare hand cupped the fat of your cheek, his thumb coming to rest on the curve beneath your eye. “We’re doing this again, over and over until even Soap-“ He spat his name like it was an insult, “-knows exactly who ya belong to. You’re gonna always be dripping with me. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” You murmured, exhaustion closing in on you.

“Good girl. Now get some shut eye, ain’t done with you yet.”

MW Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[roanofarcc]

A SHARED VOID

pairing: james ‘bucky’ barnes x fem!reader (requested)

summary: when the Void is unleashed in NYC, you and Bucky fall into a nightmare you had shared together. 

warnings: reader was captured and held by Hydra. mentions of past abuse, Hydra, lots of angst with some soft!bucky sprinkled in!

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

Momentary darkness bled into a low light that immediately filled you with dread. Before you even knew where you were, your body felt it, a cold hand of fear that squeezed your throat. Blinking, you focused your eyes and looked around. Concrete floors, walls, and ceiling boxed you in. It was so little to go off of, but you knew exactly where you were. 

“No, no, no,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet. You hadn’t entered the darkness that encased the streets of New York City alone, but no one else was with you now. Your limbs felt impossibly heavy as you dragged yourself across the room of a little cell you had called home for far too long. The old memories of hopelessness arrived like harsh rain inside your head, flooding your mind with memories you had done so much to replace with better ones. 

For years, you worked through the knots Hydra had tangled in your mind, but standing back inside the cell, you felt them start to reappear. 

The clinking of chains startled you. Turning around, you nearly fell to your knees. You were looking at yourself, the version of yourself so beaten down by years spent locked up in the Hydra facility. You were nothing but skin and bones, knotted hair, and adoring blood-stained clothing. You looked impossibly small, curled into yourself like you thought you could make yourself disappear from sight. 

The sight brought out a sob as you staggered toward yourself, so hopeless and void of light. You almost forgot what that felt like, but it all came rushing back to you in that moment as you kneeled on the cold ground in front of that version of yourself. She looked back at you, tired eyes seemingly looking through you rather than directly at you. She brought a hand up, chains rattling with each movement. 

You had been weak, sick, but forced to carry out your medical duties in fear of punishment for either you or the Winter Soldier. But as that version of you lifted her hand, she locked her bony fingers around your throat. You choked as she squeezed, red-rimmed eyes boring holes into your skull. You tried to fight yourself off, but she was strong, desperate to squeeze the life and light that had returned right out of you. 

Crashing backwards against the floor, you wheezed and grasped her shoulders, trying to shove her off. 

A voice sounded from somewhere off in the distance, familiar even through slight distortion. It called your name, not the series of code names or dehumanizing nicknames the Hydra agents spit at you, but your name. 

Little spot danced in your vision as you lulled your head to the side, peering through the one wall of the cell that was thick metal bars, allowing you to see out into the hall and the cell that sat directly across from you. 

Bucky, two versions of him, were locked in a similar battle in the other cell. Something about seeing him, seeing your Bucky, gave you a moment of clarity in the thunderstorm of your memories. You knee-ed the other version of yourself who hovered over you, sending her rolling off of you, her hands retreating from their place around your neck. Your lungs burned as you struggled to inhale deep breaths. 

Dizzy-headed from the lack of oxygen, you half-crawled across the ground until you could get your feet under you. You fell against the bars, using them to keep you upright as you choked out Bucky’s name. 

He faced off against the Winter Soldier in his cell, struggling against dead eyes and deeply inflicted pain that was too fresh for that version of Bucky. It all came back to you, the pain of not only what you endured, but of what he endured. You hadn’t been there for all of it, but you witnessed enough to know the kind of horrors Bucky had been running from for a long time. You heard his moans of pain and stifled agony for years. 

Though it was against your will, you had even contributed to some of it, stitching him up after missions with nothing to numb the pain of the needle threading in and out of his skin. Cleaning him up after punishments when little things went wrong during a mission, as they never settled for anything less than perfection. You had looked into his eyes, drained of humanity, silently wishing you had been strong enough to push back. 

You had a few times, each one resulting in acts of violence that left permanent scars on your body. The healed stripes and set bones ached as you pressed your face against the bars, watching as the Winter Soldier threw Bucky across the cell. 

“Bucky!” you half yelled and half cried. Using all of your strength, you shook the bars. Unlike the real cell you had been, the one in the strange dream/memory gave way as you threw your body against it. You stumbled out into the hall, only taking a beat before you approached Bucky’s cell. The key was in the lock on the outside. Too easy; a trap, probably. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was Bucky, facing the person he had been forced to become against his will. 

You stepped into the cell, but it closed behind you. Both the Winter Soldier and Bucky looked at you upon entering. 

Bucky took a step toward you before the Winter Soldier attacked him again, pinning him against the wall. You called out his name, a weight pressing down on your chest as panic threatened to swallow you. You had already escaped this nightmare, once in reality and a million times over in your head. But something about this time was different. In your dreams, no matter how real it felt, there was a fuzziness to the nightmare that reminded you, once awake, Hydra can’t hurt you anymore. 

There was no fuzziness or dream-like quality to your situation. It was as if someone had somehow placed you right back there. 

Before you registered what you were doing, your hands were wrapped around the flesh bicep of the Winter Soldier, as if your strength was comparable to a hell-bent super soldier. Yet, you attempted to get Bucky loose from his grip, enough to properly fight back against himself. 

The Winter Soldier jabbed his metal arm back, hitting you square in the chest and sending you skidding across the room. You squeezed your eyes closed, grasping for your bearings to come back. 

The soft sound of your name in Bucky’s voice forced your eyes back open, not but a minute later. A hand gripped your shoulder, shaking you lightly as the scene fell back into focus. 

“Hey,” Bucky breathed out. “You okay?” 

You didn’t answer as your eyes fell onto the Winter Soldier on his knees on the other side of the cell. His body was hunched forward and radiating an indescribable sadness you had tried to bear witness to for years. 

Across the hall, the other version of yourself was in a similar position, curled into herself on the hard ground with a similar hopelessness. It hurt to see yourself like that. The urge to hold yourself, remind her that freedom and a life worthy of living awaited her, tugged at your bones, but your body sat on the ground like your veins had been filled with lead. 

“What is this place?” you asked, even though you were fairly certain he knew as much as you did. 

“Nowhere good,” he said, hanging his head with a shake. “But there’s got to be a way out, and a way to the others.” 

He was eager to leave, rightfully so, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. “Can’t you feel that?” you asked, voice just above a whisper. 

“Feel what?” he asked, hesitantly as he tossed glances between the ghosts of your past selves. 

“I almost forgot what it felt like to be here,” you said, eyes stinging. “But it’s…it’s right here.” You placed your hand in the middle of your chest, where it felt like it was a moment away from cracking in half from the weight of your memories. 

Bucky frowned as he rested his flesh hand over yours, a knowing look upon his face. “I know,” he whispered, voice vulnerable, something he rarely was, but with you, he found himself more inclined to be. Whether it was trust or simply because of your shared experiences, you weren’t sure. “But it’s not real, not anymore.” 

Your chin trembled as you spared another glance at yourself in the cell. “It feels real.” 

Bucky did the same, gazing at himself. “It does,” he said with a sigh. “But we got out, and we’ll do it again.” 

You looked at him, really looked at him. He was tired and a little worn from dealing with the team of misfits he had rounded up in the desert, but he was more alive than you had ever seen him, filled with purpose. 

Even in the darkest corner of your shared nightmare, you cracked a small smile, eyes glossy. “Since when are you the optimist?” 

He mirrored your expression, brushing a few sweaty fly-aways back from your forehead. “It’s something new I’m trying.” 

Little by little, the crushing weight of your past started to shake loose, looking at Bucky. You squeezed his hand and used your free one to wipe a couple of stray tears that had fallen. “Are you okay?” you asked him, even though the hunch in his shoulders gave him away. 

“You’re here,” he said. “So, yeah. I’m okay.” 

He helped you to your feet, but when standing, your hands didn’t break apart. You each sucked in a breath of a stale air and clung to feelings of your fingers intertwined to keep you grounded. Breaking through the nightmare of your past, you two embarked on your mission to find the others and save New York City, an awfully drastic turn of events in your lives that had long been intertwined.

[nakylvr]

— FILL THE VOID

daniela avanzini x fem!reader x megan skiendiel

summary: you've been aware of megan's "little crush" on you over the past few years, honestly finding it endearing and cute. after talking with daniela about trying something, things take a turn.

warnings/tags: nsfw content, language, threesome, established relationship (dani & reader), g!p meizini, riding, effiel towering, cumming inside (multiple times), switch!reader, switch!megan, dom!daniela, recording during sex, mami kink

part of the substance series

wc: 2,6 k

minors dni

im so sorry for how long this took but uh i hope you guys like it 😓 i kept editing it so this is the final product 😖

sitting on the couch in between daniela and megan, the three of you were watching some dumb movie daniela wanted to watch. but none of you were really watching. you kept catching megan trying to take terrible sneaky glances at you, poorly acting like she wasn't doing anything when you look over at her.

you’d been aware of her “little” crush on you a bit after you started dating dani. megan was adorably obvious about it. trying to sneakily look at you when she thought you weren't paying attention, getting hard around you showing her visible print in her pants when you wore something a little too provocative, her eyes trailing your body only to turn bright red whenever you would even merely touch her arm. it was honestly endearing and cute.

you also knew she was way too shy to do anything about it. dani was her best friend, and you were dating dani. which meant you were off limits. she knew that. so why would she even try?

you look over at the ginger from the corner of your eye, seeing her gaze already on you. you then take a look at dani, who just nods her head giving you the okay.

“y’know, megs,” you start, causing her to look at you. “i really think you should go back to the dark hair.” your hand moves to push a strand of her hair out of her face.

“huh?” megan lets out, her face instantly turning red. “you think?”

“yeah.” you nod, your hand moving down to her shoulder. “i love the ginger, but i miss your natural look.”

“well–uh–thanks,” megan manages to get out, confused as to what's happening. within the second your leg is hooking over hers to straddle her and trap her, making her eyes go wide. “wh–what’re you doing?” she stammers.

“i know about your little crush on me, mei mei,” you say, your fingers fiddling with the material of her shirt on her shoulders.

“what?” she blurts out. “i mean–i don't–i would never–”

“it's okay,” you cut her off, grinding your hips against her slowly, feeling her start to get hard under you. “dani and i talked about it.” you lean in close to whisper in her ear. “you can have your way with me if you want.”

megan feels a shiver run down her spine, a pathetic whimper falling from her lips as you grind against her with more force. she looks between you and dani with a red face, trying to see if this was some kind of joke, and given by how dani hasn't freaked out yet, she assumes she's in the clear.

“really?” the ginger whispers.

“mhm,” you hum with a nod. “c’mon. you want me, don't you, mei mei?”

“yes,” she says softly.

“then do what you want for once.”

as soon as the words leave your mouth and you lean back to look at megan, she's surging closer to kiss you roughly. the action surprises you, a little noise leaving your throat as she grabs your hips tightly, dragging you against her hard cock straining against her shorts making you both moan. your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her impossibly closer to you. biting down on her bottom lip, a whimper escapes her mouth when you gently tug on it and pull it back with your teeth.

parting from the kiss, a string of saliva pulls between your lips, and when you look into megan’s eyes, you feel a shiver run down your spine. her pupils are blown wide, dark and hungry with need as she breathes heavily trying to recuperate. she doesn't say a word, instead shimmying out of her shorts and boxers, making her cock spring out and slap against her stomach.

your eyes widen at the sight of her. she's bigger than you expected. not that you're complaining, you never would. but you wouldn't be able to deny the way you throbbed thinking of her inside you.

“you're so big, mei mei,” you purr, your hand moving down to give her a few strokes, smearing the precum around her tip.

“fuck…” megan breathes out, her hips jerking up.

“you wanna be inside me, meiyokie? hm?” your hand speeds up slightly, making the ginger whimper loudly.

“yes. god, yes, please.” megan nods quickly. “please.”

a smile curls on your lips at her response. pushing your shorts and panties aside, you lift your hips and slowly sink down onto her. a sharp gasp leaves your mouth as you go lower down until she's fully sheathed inside of you, and you're letting out shallow breaths. you’ve never felt this full before, feeling the younger’s dick deep in you nearly pressing against your cervix without even moving.

“oh my god.” your eyes roll back when you slowly rock against her, a moan falling from your lips. “feel so full, fuck!” you throw your head back and lift your hips up before falling back down, a moan leaving both your lips.

megan’s eyes never leave your face as you start to ride her with desperation and need. watching the way your face changes at every thrust, how your lips part when those pretty noises leave your mouth. moans leave her mouth without any care, the feeling of your warm, wet walls almost too much for her. “you feel so good, yn. holy shit!” she hisses, her hands gripping your hips tightly as you move.

“yeah?” you smile, looking down at her. “you're so big inside me, i can feel you so deep.” you pull your shirt off over your head, watching her eyes go big when you unclasp your bra and let it slip off. “you can touch me, baby,” you tell her, resting your hands on her shoulders.

a whimper leaves megan’s mouth at the petname, her face flushing red as she moves one of her shaky hands to grab your breast and gently squeeze, making you whine and arch into her. hesitantly she moves forward to your other breast, glancing up at you before wrapping her lips around your nipple and carefully sucking on it, making her sigh against your chest.

your hips stutter when you feel her begin sucking on your nipple while still squeezing and fondling your other breast, a breathy moan escaping your lips as you look down at her. you just smile at her, grasping the back of her head and pushing her closer against you as you speed up, loud moans leaving your mouth. “fuck, you're gonna make me cum!” you whine.

hearing your words, megan finally starts thrusting up into you as you go faster, moaning into your chest as she continues to suck and lick around your nipple. her eyes peer up at you, all big and pleading with tears threatening to spill. she mumbles something against you, and you have a feeling you know what she's saying given by how she's twitching and throbbing inside you.

“you gonna cum, baby?” you ask her breathlessly, trying to keep your eyes open but they end up fluttering shut when you feel her tip poke at your g-spot making you gasp. “cum inside me—fuck, please, mei mei—wan’ feel you, please, please,” you start babbling while feeling your climax approaching. your head was spinning and hazy with pleasure, and all you could think about was how you should've talked to dani about this sooner.

“what?” megan lets out, finally pulling away from your chest. “i-i don't think i should,” she manages to get out past her moans. she wants to, though. you can see it. she wants to so bad, but she also doesn't want to fuck everything up.

“please,” you beg before looking over at daniela. “please, mami, please. just this once, please.”

megan turns her head to look at daniela when you do, the latina’s pants and boxers at her ankles with her hard cock in her hand. she's breathing heavily while stroking herself, and megan feels both embarrassment and an odd sense of arousal remembering she was watching the whole thing.

“go ahead,” is all daniela says in response.

a smile grows on your face and you look back down at megan, cupping her face with your hands and kissing her deeply. you both moan against each other's lips as megan uses all her strength to jackhammer up into you, feeling your walls clench around her tightly.

“‘m gonna cum,” she mutters against your lips, whimpers leaving her mouth as she gets closer to her orgasm.

“cum for me, fill me up, please,” your voice is shaky interrupted with moans and choked gasps.

with a few more thrusts, megan lets out a long whine, her hips stilling as you feel thick ropes of her cum shoot inside you making you cum over her cock with a loud moan.

you collapse against the ginger, both of you breathing heavily trying to recover. after the waves of your orgasm pass, you're able to hear the whimpering coming from the other side of the couch. lifting your head off megan’s chest, you glance over to see dani still jerking herself off, letting out quiet whimpers and gasps.

“you need some help, mami?” you ask the latina, crawling off megan’s lap and moving towards dani.

“please, baby,” she says breathlessly, a low groan leaving her mouth when you move her hand and replace it with your own. she glances over at megan who's now staring at you two with hooded eyes, her cock twitching and getting hard again just at the sight. she suddenly grabs your wrist to stop your movements. “you wanna try something, babygirl?”

looking into her eyes, you know by now what she means when she asks that. you know each other's limits, and you know she wouldn't do anything that could make you uncomfortable. and right now? you didn't give a shit what she was about to suggest. you end up giving a nod, and she just smiles, her dimple showing.

and somehow within the next five minutes you were in the bedroom on your hands and knees with megan behind you and dani in front of you with her hand running through your hair, her phone propped against the dresser recording the scene.

“you ready, babygirl?” daniela asks you, putting your hair in a makeshift ponytail. you nod in response, glancing at her phone before up to her again, to which she just smiles softly at you. “you tell me if you wanna stop, ‘kay?”

you nod again, feeling warmth creep up on your cheeks at how soft she says the words and the position you were in, let alone being recorded. “yes, mami,” you reply.

“good girl.” she pats your cheek gently before looking at megan. she just gives the ginger a curt nod telling her to start and megan nods, putting her hands on your hips and slowly pushing inside you.

“fuck,” megan hisses, stilling once she was all the way in.

your head drops, hanging low as you feel her slide in you, your jaw slack as a whimper leaves your mouth when she slowly pulls out and pushes back into you. “oh m-my god.” your hands claw at the bedding beneath you, your voice shaky already. daniela tugs your hair to have you look up at her, a little gasp escaping your mouth at the action as you stare into her dark eyes.

daniela has your hair in one hand, and her dick in the other, peering down at you with hungry eyes. “c’mon, cariño. you're gonna be good for me, right?” she says.

“mhm,” you hum with a nod.

“then be good.” her cock prods against your lips as she looks at you expectantly. nodding shortly, your lips part and the latina pushes into your mouth, letting out a little sigh as she feels the warmth of your mouth around her. “there we go…” she whispers. “you're so beautiful, mi vida.” she breathes out. “so good f’ me.”

daniela slowly starts to push further into your mouth, a groan leaving her lips when your throat contracts to swallow around her, feeling your tongue swirl around her length. “fuck…” she sighs, pulling out a bit and thrusting back in.

by now megan has started speeding up, letting out quiet whimpers behind you trying not to sound like a total loser, but the way your walls clench around her length has her moaning pathetically. her hands rest on your hips with a tight grip as she quickens her pace, the movements causing you to take daniela’s cock further down your throat causing you to gag slightly.

“fuck yeah, baby.” daniela just smiles down at you, keeping your hair in her hand to prevent it from falling in your face. “that's my good little slut. look at you, taking both of us so well.” her voice is sweet as she talks despite her words towards you, and you moan around her causing the latina to let out a groan. “shit—do that again, baby.”

in the three years you've known both of them, you never imagined that this would happen. yeah, you thought about it once or twice before you started dating dani, but god were you thanking yourself for talking to her about it.

tears were welling in your eyes, threatening to spill as you stare up at daniela who keeps muttering praises mixed with degrading words that you can hardly even process anymore. all you can focus on is how good it feels. you're moaning and gurgling around daniela’s cock with the force of megan’s desperate pace pushing her further down your throat, saliva dribbling from the corners of your mouth.

“you look so hot, baby—fuck,” daniela’s breathing was heavier now, her dick twitching and throbbing against your tongue. “shit—i’m close.” her grip on your hair tightens as she pulls on it slightly.

“me too,” megan is barely able to get out past her moans. “f-fuck, wh-where should i–” she can't even finish without a moan coming from her at the feeling of your walls fluttering around her and squeezing her dick.

daniela looks down at you. “you want her to cum inside you again, baby?” she says, stilling her hips for a moment. you nod quickly in response, and she smiles. “my dirty girl, wanting her girlfriends best friend to cum in her—fucking slut.” she starts thrusting her hips again, getting closer to her climax while watching you. breathy moans escaped her lips now, her hips moving out of pace and frantic. “you cum when you want, baby,” she tells you.

you can barely process the words being spoken to you, merely nodding along to everything daniela says while feeling the knot in your stomach tightening and threatening to snap. you know megan’s about to cum by how desperate her movements have become and her cock throbbing inside of you, and her tip hits that spot inside you has your eyes rolling back and you're cumming on her cock, your body shaking as you let out a whine.

within the seconds of you cumming megan is right behind you, a long moan coming from her as her hips still and you feel her fill you up again. and within the minute of that daniela groans, her jaw slacks as she cums down your throat, making you swallow it all.

the three of you are panting heavily as they pull out of you and you collapse onto the bed, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“you okay, baby?” daniela asks.

“mhm,” you hum with a short nod before holding your arms outstretched.

without another word, daniela lays down next to you, letting you wrap your arm over her. your other arm is still extended, and megan just sits there not knowing what to do.

“c’mere,” you mumble to the younger girl.

immediately megan crawls onto the bed on the other side of you, curling into your side. you let out a quiet giggle at how fast she moved, looking between the two girls on either side of you.

“this isn't going to be a one time thing, is it?” you ask.

“no.”

“probably not.”

[mahmahmahmysharona]

When you don't know why Bob doesn't like you, but a relapse forces you to find out.

(Bob Reynolds x Avenger Reader) Part 1/?

You don't think Bob likes you very much. Especially when the situation goes from being a ragtag group of underdogs to a fully blown Avengers Avengerz(!)-living-together-in-the-tower deal.

In fact, maybe he just doesn't think much about you at all. He's quiet, shy even, with most of the team, but on the rare occasions he contributes more than a mere small smile, you're the last person he's talking to.

It doesn't bother you much. So what if Yelena is his keeper, making sure he's alright and keeping a tactful eye on him? Obviously he'd be more open with her. But still, you wonder if you ever said something wrong, or were too harsh on him when you all first met. (Hell, he'd even rather talk to Walker than you, it seems.)

Okay, maybe it bothers you more than you'll admit.

You've never been one to make friends easily, but when you can't even win the affections of someone who literally has the living embodiment of guilt and resentment fighting for dominance inside of him, then there must be something wrong with you.

But you get on with life. The new version of it, anyway. You train, you go on missions, you sleep, and you do it all again. Occasionally, the team starts to develop into something more important to you. They have your back, and you have theirs.

Still, even with all this, Bob doesn't bite. Not when you offer him coffee, not when you ask him about what book he's reading, and not even when you try to crack jokes about the team's questionable public branding.

So you give up. You keep your head down. But then one day, Yelena asks you to hang back from a mission to keep an eye on Bob, who seems to be in his head more than usual.

"Maybe it'll be good for you two," she says, not unsubtly. "Get to know each other a little."

Great. Now you know everyone has noticed the rift between you.

You stay out of his way, poking your head around the corner ever now and again, catching him sitting in front of the window and looking out at the sky. You know better than to ask him if he's okay, so you stay hidden.

Except one time you look out, expecting to see him there, and he's gone. Shit. You've lost the biggest asset and most dangerous weapon in New York.

You quickly head to his room, certain he's fine, but not wanting to be responsible if he's not.

When you get there, the door is partially open, and you gently push it the rest of the way. The lights are out. You look around, and your heart stops when you see a shadow sitting on the bed. A black silhouette, sitting very still. Your head suddenly fills with memories of that day, when you were forced to relive the most horrific snapshots of your past: revisiting some of your most terrible deeds — ones that you can't outrun, even in your sleep, even now. It’s torture without the pain.

Without thinking, you reach back and pull out your gun, pointing it at the shape. Your hands are steady, but only just. You know from experience bullets will do nothing to stop The Void, but if the team comes back and finds your shadow burned into the ground, you at least want them to know that you fucking tried.

As soon as you do, the shadow moves. "Woah, woah," it says. "It's me." It reaches over and switches on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a relieving warm glow. It's just Bob, sitting on his bed, looking rightly panicked.

You immediately stand down, hooking your gun back into place. Your heart is still pounding. "Bob. You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were..." Then you immediately feel bad.

"Sorry," he says. "I just wanted to sit in the dark for a while. I should have thought--"

"No, don't apologize."

When you ask him what’s wrong, he’s cagey. You’ve done this dance before — trying to talk to him and getting little in return. He’s okay, you’re okay, so you give a small grunt and decide to leave.

But he stops you, a guilty look on his face. Finally, he explains. He always feels this way when the team leaves for missions, knowing how dangerous he is but hating knowing everyone is in danger. He wants to help, but has no idea how to harness his powers beyond simply controlling them. He looks up at you, suddenly quieter (if that’s even possible) and says that today feels even worse, because the one person who likes him the least is stuck babysitting him.

“Hold on,” you say. “What do you mean?”

Then it all comes pouring out. Bob thinks you hate him. You think Bob hates you. Neither of you hate each other. The realisation makes you laugh, hard. He doesn’t quite get there, but he does crack a confused smile.

Evidently, your resting bitch face paired with his natural shyness has caused a stalemate.

“Bob, I’ve wanted to be your friend this whole time,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I just stopped trying because you seemed…I don’t know, scared of me or something.”

“I think I am, just a little.”

“Don’t you have the power of a hundred suns or something?”

“A million exploding suns,” he says casually, shrugging. You don’t really know what to say to that until he cracks a smile, and you realise the only response is another laugh.

“Okay, well, for clarity’s sake, can we be friends now?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. Emboldened, he holds out his hand. You look at it, remembering what happened the last time you accidentally grabbed his hand a year ago in that damn incinerator. (A trip into the "Void Rooms", even when brief, isn't good.) Your recollection must register on your face, because you see his smile drop. He pulls his hand back, but you know that in order for this to work, he has to trust you. And you have to trust him.

You reach out and grab his hand, gripping it firm in yours, shaking it as he wanted you to. Between your fingers, something is happening. There’s an invisible charge. Can he feel it? You shake it off.

“For what it’s worth,” you tell him. “I don’t see you as a burden. Nobody else around here does, either. I think we need you as much as you need us. And don’t be scared of me, because I’m not scared of you.”

That seems to unlock something in him. His shoulders drop, his chest expands and releases with a loaded, relieved breath, and his hand quickly relaxes in yours.

“Well…” he tears his eyes away from your hands, looking back up at you. “…That’s another person I can add to my very small list.” Another thought crosses his mind, causing the smile to fade.

"What would you have done?" he asks. "If it hadn't been me in here? If it had been...the other me? If I'd dragged you back into that place?"

You feel your fingers flex in your palm by your side. You'd go down fighting, is what would really happen. But you can't say that. You have to say something else: something not as desperate but equally true.

"I would have found you," you tell him. "I would have torn through every memory to find you, Bob. And we'd get out of there, just like we did before. Together."

His brow creases, watching you, ringing his hands, torn by some internal conflict you'll never fully understand. But he does soften still, giving you a grateful nod.

You leave him then, giving him the space he obviously wants. But what you don’t know is that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to talk to you, to catch up on getting to know you. There’s so much he missed out on, because he’s stupid, and now he wants to do everything he can to make up for it.

What you also don’t know is that, despite being relieved that you two can now be friends, is that soon, there’ll be a whole new problem.

Soon, just being friends won’t be nearly enough for either of you.

Part 2 (aka: When you realize you're falling in love with Bob, and it sucks.)

[woniwontons]

dead end - CHAPTER THREE

bob reynolds x therapist!reader

summary: after being assigned to monitor bob reynolds’ recovery inside the new avengers tower, you try to keep your fears hidden. but between quiet training sessions and unsettling therapy logs, you start to realize he’s watching you more than he should—and that something inside him never stops whispering.

w.c: 3.7k

warnings: abuse by parent, psychological thriller, inaccurately depicted mental illness, emotional manipulation (by void), nightmares, slow burn, possessive themes, combat violence, unreliable realities, hallucinations, brief mention of suicidal thoughts (not reader's), domestic bob, gore/bloody void, like a lot of blood & violence

chapter nav: one | two | three | four | five | six

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°｡⋆

You weren't supposed to be in Dr. Harding's office.

The door had been left ajar, just slightly. But something more than just curiosity consumed you, filling your impulses with walking inside.

"Dr. Harding?" you said quietly with a soft knock on the door.

No one.

The office was sterile, as always. White walls. Sleek silver fixtures. No personal items. No scent or warmth. Just the sound of the air vent and the soft click of the wall clock.

Then you noticed the screen on her tablet which was left open on the desk.

Still active, as if she had only stepped out for a moment.

It was a biometric scan. Heart rate, neural activity, baseline data.

The subject ID was redacted. But the image attached wasn’t.

It was you.

"What the hell is going on?" Nothing made sense anymore, but the pieces were starting to come together. This new assignment was so much more than it seemed.

Your breath caught as you leaned in slowly, squinting your eyes in disbelief. There were notes below the scan -- coded abbreviations, but none of them you were able to recognize from previous research.

And one highlighted phrase:

Subject displays high tolerance to --

"Dr. Charles! How was your conference?"

Hearing her voice down the hall nearly sent you into cardiac arrest as you scrambled away from the desk. "Shit," you whispered crudely, smoothing out your lab coat before sliding out of the office door. Rushing down the corridor towards your sleeping quarters.

And not a single human eye caught the sight of it.

You couldn't sleep at all that night.

Your stomach felt as though it were doing backflips in your gut, concave from not being able to eat all day.

You rolled over in bed for the fourth time, staring at the wall where your reflection barely showed in the dark glass. The silence was heavy. Not peaceful.

Just full.

Of things unsaid and dreams you refused to have.

You ran your fingers through your hair and sighed, pushing the blanket aside. Sleep was out of reach, but rest felt impossible too. It wasn’t just your body that was tense—it was your mind. Your thoughts. That strange hum behind your ribs you’d started to recognize as something other than your own.

Eventually, you gave in.

You padded barefoot to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the hot water fill the room with fog. The sound drowned out the silence in your head for a little while.

You stepped in and stood still beneath the stream for a long time, letting it sting your shoulders. When you finally reached for the shampoo, your hands shook slightly.

As water ran down your scalp and face, something that had seeped in under your skin. The scent of your body wash filled the space, eucalyptus and chamomile. It should have been comforting. But the heat on your scalp only made you feel more aware of yourself. Of your body. Of the fact that you didn't feel alone, even when you were.

When you stepped out, towel wrapped tightly around you, the mirror was already fogged.

You wiped your palm across the glass.

And then, just for a moment, you saw it.

A reflection that wasn’t yours.

It flickered at the edge of the mirror—his shape. His shadow. Gold eyes where yours should have been.

You blinked, and it was gone. But your skin was still cold where he’d touched your arm in that attic dream.

You looked down. Nothing there.

No bruises. No marks.

But you felt it.

The presence.

Your hands shakily reached out for the knob of your sink, glancing down as you shut it.

c o m e t o m e

The letter spelled out on the mirror in cast shadows had struck you motionless. You stood frozen, your breath catching sharp in your throat. The room suddenly felt colder, like the air had been pulled out and replaced with something heavier. Thicker. Pressed close to your skin.

You stepped forward slowly, unsure why. Instinct told you to back away. Logic screamed to dismiss it as a stress hallucination.

But part of you didn’t want to.

Part of you was listening.

You reached out and pressed your fingertips to the glass. The words didn’t smear. Didn’t fog.

They just stared back at you.

You blinked. It was gone.

A hard swallow makes its way down your throat. "Leave me alone, let me sleep," you begged, "I can't handle this forever."

You jerked your hand back and turned away from the mirror, suddenly aware of how alone you were. How watched.

You tried to breathe evenly, to quiet the rising panic.

You didn’t look back. After drying your hands and turning off the light, you walked out of the bathroom like you hadn’t just seen a ghost.

Hunger hit you again, plaguing you for your decision to skip dinner that night. A sigh of resignation escaped you as you slid your clothing and slippers on. Any leftover fruits inside the cafeteria kitchens would have to suffice for tonight.

Peaking side to side in the dimly lit hallway outside your door, heart still racing from your recent encounter, you quietly closed your door behind you.

The hallways were still, lit only by the pale emergency lights that hung overhead. You hadn’t planned on leaving your sleeping quarters, but the pangs of hunger wouldn't settle long enough to be able to sleep.

However, you hadn't expected the kitchen lights to be on. You half expected to grab something from the leftover tray and leave unnoticed.

You paused just inside the doorway, head tilting.

Behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration, stood Bob.

A pan sizzled in front of him, and a bag of sliced cheese sat half-opened on the counter. You watched as he meticulously layered a slice of cheddar over the bread already crisping in butter.

It was so disarming to watch him outside of his normal environment of doom and gloom. To see him at such peace all alone.

"I guess we're all trespassing today?” you called softly.

Bob startled, nearly dropping his spatula before turning quickly in your direction. He blinked at you, caught mid-sandwich flip.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied after a beat, voice low and warm. “Late-night for you?”

“Just starving,” you shrugged. “Didn’t know you were an overnight chef.”

He gestured toward the stove. "Well you get really good at making greasy food when you've worked at every fast food chain that'd hire you."

You walked up to the counter and leaned on it. “That smells really good though."

He smiled at you sheepishly, and your heart melted a bit at how sweet it looked when that smile was for you. “I can make another.”

You raised a brow. “You offering?”

He was already reaching for more bread. “Well since you've made the idea so tempting...”

You sat on a stool across from him, arms resting on the counter. “So this is your rebellious streak? Ditching security to make grilled cheeses at midnight?”

Bob glanced at the door, then back at you. “They won’t find me for another five minutes. I timed it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Seriously?”

“I’ve been testing their rounds for weeks. Figured out the weak spot on Thursdays.” He gave you a little shrug. “Sometimes I just want to feel normal. Get hungry. Make something. Sit somewhere that doesn’t beep at me."

Your smile faded at the edges, softened by the truth in his voice.

“You do this often?”

“Only when I can’t sleep.” He finished buttering your sandwich and dropped it into the pan beside his. “Which is most nights.”

You wondered where else he snuck off to at night.

You quietly watched him cook with your chin in your hand, leaned against the counter with your elbow. He took his time despite making something so simple, making sure he buttered both sides. Sprinkled parmesan over the top for an extra crisp. It struck then you how much of his life must have been spent feeling watched. Or worse, restrained.

He slid your sandwich onto a plate and set it in front of you with a proud smile.

“Try it. I dare you to say it’s not the best grilled cheese you've eaten past bedtime.”

You took a bite.

It was the best grilled cheese you've probably ever had.

He waited, eyebrows raised.

“Okay,” you said through a mouthful, “I hate to admit it, but your sneaky midnight grilled cheese is really good."

He grinned and took a bite of his own, mumbling, “At least you know why I go through so much effort to come down here.”

You both ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the kind that doesn’t need filling. You glanced at him between bites, watching how he smiled after each mouthful, how he seemed so… human right now.

No glowing eyes. No flickering hands. No Void.

Just a guy, maybe a friend sitting across from you. You couldn't imagine how scared you were of him before when you felt so weirdly close to him now.

“What’s it like?” you asked gently. “Being in control one minute… and not the next?”

He raised his eyebrow at you questionably before you realized your mistake.

"Off the record, of course. No clipboard, see?" you explained quickly, holding up your free hand as you took another bite of your sandwich.

Bob set his sandwich down slowly, eyes on the plate.

“Like I’m renting space in my own head,” he said. “Most days, I can push him into the corner. Pretend he’s not there. But he’s always listening. Always waiting. And when people look at me, I can tell they’re waiting for him appear too."

You didn’t respond right away.

“I don’t think that’s what I see anymore,” you said quietly.

Bob looked up at you through his lashes, confused and surprised at once. It made you feel warm and guilty all at once.

"I like the guy in front of me, Bob seems like a really cool person."

His throat bobbed, but he didn’t speak at first. Then, softly, “Thank you.”

You both fell silent again, this time heavier. Not awkward, just full.

He didn��t finish his sandwich.

Just left the last bite on the plate as footsteps echoed in the hallways behind him. When the cafeteria doors hissed open behind you, neither of you moved right away.

Two security agents entered, frowning the moment they spotted him.

“Mr. Reynolds,” one said firmly. “Time to return.”

Bob sighed and stood, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Knew I was cutting it close.”

He looked at you as he turned to leave. "It was nice talking to you, off the record."

You gave him a smile, even if it wobbled a little. “Make me another grilled cheese sometime.”

His grin was soft, and this time, sad. “I can arrange that. Thank you for coming and joining me."

He left quietly, flanked by his silent escort.

You sat alone at the counter, staring down at the half-eaten sandwich he left behind.

That single, untouched corner.

And something in your chest twisted with guilt and something deeper.

You didn’t know what scared you more:

The Void that became him and haunted your dreams.

Or the good patient you found yourself so attracted to.

You didn't have any dreams that night.

ANONYMOUS POV

Transcript Log | INTERNAL FILE [REDACTED] Access Level: TOP SECRET - NEED TO KNOW Date: [REDACTED] Location: Off-site - Audio Transcript Only

Scientist 1: The subject isn’t reporting ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇.

Scientist 2: ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇. ▇▇▇▇ to display ▇▇▇ signs ▇▇ disobedience as ▇▇ others.

Scientist 1: Then she’s further along than expected. We haven’t even introduced ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇t yet.

Scientist 2: ▇▇ ▇oid’s adapting. Faster than the ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇ model projected.

Scientist 1: That’s not supposed to be possible. It’s not supposed to form preference.

Scientist 2: Then explain the new side effect.

Scientist 2: “Come to me.” We wouldn't be able to see it if it was her hallucination. It was spatially reactive. Infrared resonance picked it up for six seconds before it dissipated.

Scientist 1: …It’s communicating directly in reality?

Scientist 2: Or claiming ▇▇▇▇.

Scientist 1: Then we’re running out of time. If Reynolds becomes aware of the ▇▇▇▇, or worse, ▇▇▇▇ finds out. The whole operation is blown.

Scientist 2: We'll shut it down soon.

Scientist 1: Meaning her?

Scientist 2: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇.

Scientist 1: ▇▇ ▇▇ think ▇▇ the ▇▇▇▇?

Scientist 1: ▇▇ her ▇▇▇. But initiate passive ▇▇ testing.

Scientist 2: Copy. We’ll see how far she can get before we inevitably have to find a replacement again.

End of File

Dr. Harding was already waiting for you when you entered the hallway outside the therapy wing.

Her posture was perfectly composed, one hand gripping a tablet, the other loosely tapping a pen against her palm. She smiled when she saw you, but there was no warmth in it. Just courtesy.

“Morning,” she said. “You slept well?”

You nodded automatically, though you weren’t sure if you had. Your dreamless nights felt emptier now, instead of the relief you should feel. Something about your nights had become harder to measure.

Harding didn’t wait for an answer anyway. She clicked something on her screen and walked ahead, expecting you to follow.

But halfway to the session room, she slowed—just a little—and said:

“If you start to feel... weird, I want you to say something.”

You frowned. “Weird?”

Harding glanced at you from over her shoulder, eyes cool. “Cognitively. Emotionally. Things can blur when we’re in long-term exposure to unknown powers, especially with patients like Reynolds.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “You think I’m going to get effected by his presence?"

She stopped, turned. “Not yet.”

“But everyone reaches their threshold eventually.”

She smiled again, as if she hadn’t just implied the strangest thing.

Then she turned and keyed the door open without another word.

Bob was already seated on the mat.

His eyes lifted as you entered, immediately landing on you, not looking in Harding's direction. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away either. You followed Harding to the observation chair and sat, clipboard in hand, pen uncapped but still.

Bob’s hands rested on his knees, eyes neutral as Harding began the session with her usual line of sterile questioning.

“Any changes in suicidal ideation?” “Any intrusive thoughts or impulses?”

Bob answered calmly, giving the perfect answer for each one.

You wrote the words down, but they felt less real than the pen in your hand.

When Harding asked a follow-up question about emotional suppression, Bob didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at you again, quietly. Like he wanted to say something else.

And then Harding’s comm buzzed at her hip.

She huffed, checked it, and stood.

“Emergency from the upper psych wing,” she muttered. “I’ll be back shortly.”

And then she was gone.

The door sealed behind her with a sound that echoed.

Bob’s shoulders dropped almost instantly. A breath left him like a valve finally released. “She always make people feel like they're being dissected alive?” he asked.

You gave a faint, knowing smile. “Something like that.”

Bob stretched his legs out slightly, his posture loosening into something more natural. Still guarded, but no longer braced for impact.

“I don’t think she likes when I talk too much,” he added.

You hesitated, then asked: “Has she always been your lead psychologist?”

“Yes and no,” he said, eyes drifting upward to the mirror on the far wall. “I would see her before, but I had a rotation of different psychologist. But after the last assistant left, it's just Harding now.”

That made you pause. “Left?”

Bob glanced at you. “There were a few before you, but they didn’t last long,” he continued. “The last one, she actually started getting sick. Headaches, panic attacks, you name it. Like her brain was shutting itself off."

You didn’t speak. Your fingers twitched against the edge of your clipboard.

“They said it was stress. Too much exposure to the shadows, from before I could control it better.” He tilted his head. “I didn't think she was that afraid of me though. All the assistants before her had similar symptoms, but nothing nearly as bad.”

Your throat felt dry. Images of your face on Harding's tablet flashed in your mind as you started to think paranoid thoughts.

Bob looked at you, eyes darker than before. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

You shook your head. Slowly.

“That's good,” he said, "the last thing I'd ever want is to hurt someone else again. Especially you."

The stillness inside you was too heavy to push back. "I don't think you're the one causing it," you whispered, so quietly you barely exhausted an entire breath.

Bob leaned forward slightly. “Who else could be causing it?"

You raised your finger to your lips, urging him to be quieter. Glancing at the observation room to ensure it was empty.

Bob’s expression changed, something knowing, something careful.

“You think they’re doing this on purpose?” he whispered.

You couldn’t breathe for a moment, but you nodded your head, pretending to write down notes for the camera. Your pen scratched softly across the page. You weren’t writing words. Just shapes.

Circles.

"I don't know exact what's going on, but I know I'm the subject of some kind of test they're running. I saw it on Harding's tablet," you revealed, wringing your hands together in stress.

Bob's face darkened with confusion and annoyance. "What?"

A short laugh escaped you as you adjusted on your seat, throwing you ankle over the other. "I can't believe I'm even telling you this, but I think you're the only person I trust right now."

"The others have to know something, you should speak to Bucky or Yelena, they'll tell you the truth," he said earnestly, "I just can't believe they didn't tell me if they do know."

You nodded before checking your tablet, faking the responses to the questions you were supposed to ask him.

Shadows flickered on around Bob's seated figure and his fingertips as he sat in contemplation, wondering where everything went wrong. Wishing he had met such a beautiful, kind person in different circumstances than this one.

But in his presence, everything always went wrong.

"Bob?"

He settled, looking up at you. "Yes?"

"Thank you for talking with me, but we should wrap this up before someone notices how much time has passed."

"Anything for a friend."

In Your Nightmares

You were running, but the hallway wouldn’t end.

Steel walls. Fluorescent lights overhead, flickering like dying stars. Every door you passed was marked with your name. Over and over again:

SUBJECT: Y/L/N STATUS: FAILURE IMMINENT

You tried to scream but sound wouldn't escape from your mouth. All you could hear was the thoughts inside your own head crying out for help. You didn't even know what you were running from, only that it wasn’t very far behind.

Each door you had tried was locked, twisting just a centimeter before clicking in resistance as you dragged the skin of your palm around the knob.

The floor shifted then.

You fell—hard—into a room that wasn’t there a moment ago. The tiles turned to concrete. Wet. Dark. Sticky with blood. You scrambled to your feet, but your hand slipped in something warm. A sound echoed through the space—something like wet breathing. Something like chewing.

And then you saw it.

Yourself.

Not a mirror image, a second you in the room. Face slashed with tears, skin gray and twitching. She wore your clothes, but they were soaked in black. Her mouth opened too wide, face sunken in too deeply.

She lunged at you with impossible speed.

You fought back on instinct, elbowing her face, feeling bone crunch beneath your palm. Blood splattered your arms. Her fingers clawed at your face, your throat, her eyes wide and weeping as she screamed in your own voice.

"Please, please," she cried in agony, attempting her best to overpower your resistance.

You slammed her to the ground, but she twisted with monstrous strength, flipping you onto your back. Concrete met your skull with a thunderclap.

CRACK.

Your vision exploded in white.

You tasted blood as your head opened to a splitting ache.

She grabbed your hair at the root, squeezing tightly as she slammed your head down again.

CRACK.

Again.

CRACK.

Again. Again. Again.

Your scream tore free, raw and useless. It was all you could think or hear was to wail in pain. You felt the warmth of it spilling from your nose, your mouth, your ears. Your elbows slipping in the gore pooling beneath you each time you attempted to push back.

And just as your fingers lost their strength, just as the edges of your mind began to slip, he appeared as your second self stopped.

He emerged from the wall behind your double, blacker than anything your eyes could process. As if it was so dark, it could not reflect any light. Gold eyes gleamed like lit oil beneath water, searing into your bones as his presence pulled the air from your lungs.

Your copy stilled, her last look as hollow stare, then crumbled.

Her body peeled away like smoke, revealing you. Just you. Broken. Drenched in blood.

You lay there, staring up at him, ribs heaving. Vision swimming and your lids dipping slowly.

He crouched beside you, head tilted with something like admiration.

“I am the inevitable horrid truth of everything, little one,” he said, voice silk and rot at once. “I am where everything goes to die, I am the end of all lies.”

His fingers brushed your jaw. Gentle. Reverent. “It’s no wonder I scare you so…” His mouth moved closer to your ear, gold eyes never blinking, “little lying goddess mine.”

You whimpered, barely conscious.

Coming to a kneel, his bloodied finger tips continued past your jaw until it touched the side of your neck. His hand pushed lightly onto your throat until the connection between his pointer and thumb hit your esophagus. "Perfect," he whispered, caressing smeared stains of blood down the length of your throat with the gentle pad of his thumb.

You couldn't summon the strength to move or speak.

Blink. Open. Blink. Open.

Then he smiled, "Wake up."

Blink. Closed.

This slow burn train is starting to pick up speed here, huh? This chapter was hard to write for me, but it was necessary for what is about to hit the fan in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoyed how this one ended, a little twisted but sweet.

Also, I must give credit here! The quote said by The Void in this chapter: "I am the inevitable horrid truth of everything, little one. I am where everything goes to die. I am the end of all lies." This quote is one written in the comics for Sentry, and something that really inspired the vision for this chapter's ending! The quote can be found in "Doctor Strange Vol 1 #385" written by Donny Cates.

ALSO: if you are not currently on the taglist, please comment down below if you want to be! if you already commented on chapter 1 or 2, don't worry because i've already added you :)

link to chapter four

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐝 || 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 ||

A/n: girl dad Billy 👏, finally writing it out like I said I would.

It starts with silence.

Not the kind that lingers after a fight or fills the void between words—but a stunned, hollow sort of quiet that falls over Billy Hargrove the moment you whisper those three impossible words in your bedroom:

“Billy, I’m pregnant.”

He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t curse. He just… stares.

His knuckles are white where they grip the edge of your dresser, and you can see the panic rising behind his eyes, blue like ice thawing too fast. His breathing gets shallow, uneven, and you reach for him gently—only for him to pull back like your touch burns.

“No,” he mutters, voice cracked. “No, no, no, I can’t—fuck.”

“Billy—” You move toward him again, slow this time.

“I’m gonna end up just like him.” The words fall from his lips like they’re poisoned. “I’m gonna mess this kid up. Like Neil did to me. Like—like I wasn’t supposed to survive him, and now you want me to raise a fucking kid?”

Your heart breaks a little. Not for yourself—but for him. For the terrified boy still living inside the man who’s trying so hard not to fall apart.

You step closer, even when he backs up.

“You’re not him.”

He shakes his head, lips trembling. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Because you already love more fiercely than he ever could. You’re scared—fine. Me too. But I know you, Billy. I know what kind of father you won’t be. And I know what kind of father you could be… if you let yourself believe it.”

He sits on your bed like the weight of the truth finally crushed him. You kneel in front of him, pressing his hand gently against your stomach. It’s still flat, but it’s real. So is this. So are you.

“I’m not doing this without you,” you whisper. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Day's later.Billy finds himself at your home with a fresh bruise on his cheek, bag slung over his shoulder as he stands rigid at the doorway, a bundle of nerves dressed in his usual denim and defiance. Your dad watches him with that quiet, unreadable stare—before sighing and motioning him inside.

“Come in, Billy. She’s in the kitchen. But you and I need to talk first.”

Billy looks like he might bolt—but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods.

Ten minutes later, your mom catches the two of them on the back porch—your dad with a cold beer in one hand, his other on Billy’s shoulder. Not a threat. Not a lecture. A promise:

“You’re part of this family now. We don’t leave each other behind.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but when he looks over at you through the kitchen window, his eyes are wet.

Week's have passed and now he finds himself building the crib in your room....his room.

Cursing under his breath, a screwdriver tucked behind his ear, a tiny instruction manual half-crumpled beside him. He doesn’t notice you watching from the doorway until you smile.

“You’re putting the side rails on backward.”

He groans, mutters, “Goddamn stupid screws,” but doesn’t stop smiling either.

Later that night, you find him curled against your belly in bed, talking softly—nervously—to the baby. He doesn’t know you’re awake. He says things like, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” and, “You’ve got your mom’s heart—thank fuck for that.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, and he exhales, grounding himself against you.

“You’re gonna be a great dad, Billy.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he presses a kiss just above your navel and breathes:

“Yeah. I think maybe I will be."

Month's have passed and now you were giving birth, the delivery room is in chaos.

Monitors beep in erratic rhythm, nurses move with practiced urgency, and your hand is crushing Billy’s fingers like a vice.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart—so fucking good—”

His voice is raw. Trembling. His forehead pressed against yours as sweat slicks both your skin. You’re panting, sobbing, screaming through the pain, but his touch is there. Constant. Unflinching.

He doesn’t let go. Not once.

“Almost there, one more push!” the doctor says.

You scream again, and Billy’s free hand braces behind your back, holding you steady, whispering, “You’ve got this, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

And then—

A cry.

Not yours. Not his.

A high, raw, brand-new sound that shatters the world and puts it back together all at once.

The room shifts. Slows. The chaos fades into the background as the nurse lifts a small, squirming bundle and says the words that sucker-punch Billy square in the heart:

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Billy freezes.

You’re crying, gasping through exhaustion and joy, but he just stares. His eyes are locked on the tiny thing being cleaned and swaddled, and he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe.

“Billy,” you whisper.

He blinks, like you woke him from a dream. When the nurse comes to place her in his arms, he hesitates.

His hands hover.

“I—” His voice cracks, hoarse and small. “I don’t want to break her.”

The nurse smiles gently. “You won’t.”

He takes her. Slowly. Carefully.

And then he looks down.

This tiny thing, wrapped in soft pink, blinking up at him with unfocused eyes. Her face is red and squished and perfect. His thumb brushes her cheek, and she whimpers, nuzzling toward his chest like she already knows him.

That’s when it happens.

Billy Hargrove breaks.

He sinks into the chair beside your bed, arms curled protectively around her, and sobs.

Full-body, gut-wrenching sobs—tears that have been locked away for years. The grief of his childhood, the fear, the self-hatred—all of it pours out of him in silent, shaking waves.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he chokes, tears soaking her hat. “I don’t know how to be anything but angry and scared—”

You reach for him, stroking his hair, your voice a whisper:

“You’re already doing it. You stayed. You love her. That’s more than he ever gave you.”

He presses a trembling kiss to his daughter’s forehead.

“I’m not gonna be like him. I swear to god, baby, I’m not.”

“You’re nothing like him, Billy.”

She lets out a soft coo, her fingers curling around his pinky like she’s sealing the promise.

And for the first time in his life, Billy Hargrove feels peace.

Not because the fear is gone—but because he’s not facing it alone.

He has you.

And now he has her.

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader Pt. 3✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

♡ Will their sleepy beauty awake from her beauty sleep? ♡

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.4

Chapter 3: Beast Within

☆ WC: 9k+ [Part 3] ☆ Author's Note: May have gone a bit crazy with this chapter. It's so hard to capture each character's different voice and personally... but I think, I did it ⸜(ˊᗜˋ)⸝

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The Peaceful moment, of just sleepy beauty and him; ended as quickly as it came.

The cabin door crashed open with enough force to splinter the frame, sending wooden fragments scattering across the floor like shrapnel. Framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the predawn light, Sinister Mark's massive form filled the space entirely. His black and yellow suit seemed to absorb what little light touched it, creating the unsettling impression of a human-shaped void with only those gleaming, unnatural eyes breaking through the darkness behind those black lenses. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in that familiar, manic way—the smile of a predator who enjoyed playing with his food.

"Time's up, Mohawk," he purred, his voice carrying a honeyed malice that made the air in the cabin feel suddenly thick and oppressive. His fingers flexed at his sides, the black portions of his suit rippling like living shadows eager to taste blood. "My turn with darling."

Mohawk Mark hadn't moved from his position beside Y/N, his large hand still wrapped protectively around hers. The six hours had passed in a blur of memories and promises whispered to her unconscious form, and he'd made his decision long before Sinister arrived. His shoulders tensed visibly, the muscles in his back coiling like springs as he traced his thumb over Y/N's knuckles one last time.

"Fuck off," Mohawk growled, not bothering to look up. The mohawk that gave him his name stood in defiant spikes, catching the dim light filtering through the cabin's broken window. "She stays with me." The possessiveness in his voice was raw, primal—not the usual cockiness he brandished like a weapon, but something deeper, more vulnerable.

Sinister's lips curved into that signature psychotic grin, teeth too sharp to be fully Viltrumite, glinting in the dim light. The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop several degrees as he stepped inside, closing the damaged door behind him with deliberate gentleness that was somehow more threatening than any slam could have been. His eyes never left Y/N's face, drinking in her features with an intensity that bordered on worship.

"Now, now," Sinister chided, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. "We had an agreement, didn't we? Six hours each. That was the deal." He tilted his head, studying Mohawk with predatory intensity, running his tongue over those too-sharp teeth. "Unless you'd like to renegotiate? I'm always up for a little... physical debate."

The black portions of his suit seemed to writhe and shift subtly, like living shadows eager to be unleashed. The yellow highlights pulsed with an internal light that cast sickly patterns across the cabin walls, transforming the rustic space into something from a nightmare. The wooden floor beneath his feet seemed to darken, as if the very materials of the cabin responded to his corrupted presence.

"Try it," Mohawk challenged, finally looking up, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. He positioned himself more fully between Sinister and Y/N's unconscious form, his blue and black suit a stark contrast to Sinister's darkness. "I'll tear your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them." The statement would have seemed like typical Mohawk bravado to anyone who didn't notice the slight tremor in his hands—not fear, but the effort of restraining himself from launching across the room.

Sinister laughed, the sound like broken glass grinding underfoot. "Such vivid imagery! I've always appreciated your creative spirit, Mohawk." He moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight as if in protest. "But let's be realistic. We both know I could rip your soul out through your nostrils if I wanted to." His grin widened impossibly, stretching beyond what should have been physically possible. "And I very much want to."

Before either could move, the cabin door opened again—more controlled this time, but no less commanding. Omni Mark stepped inside, his red and gray suit pristine despite the violence they'd all participated in mere hours ago. His presence immediately dominated the room, calm authority radiating from him in palpable waves. Where Sinister was chaos and Mohawk was raw emotion, Omni was cold calculation wrapped in a veneer of reason.

"Enough," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed without question. His eyes swept over the scene—Mohawk by Y/N's bedside, Sinister poised for violence, the damaged cabin bearing witness to their territorial squabbling. The tension in the room seemed to bend toward him, like metal filings aligning to a magnet.

"This is beneath us," Omni continued, closing the door behind him. Unlike Sinister's theatrical entrance, Omni's movements were economical, purposeful. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing with military precision.

 "We have a mission that requires cooperation, not petty infighting." His gaze lingered for just a moment on Y/N's unconscious form, something flickering in his eyes—concern, possessiveness, calculation—before it was swiftly buried beneath his composed exterior.

"Tell that to Mohawk," Sinister said, his voice taking on a childish whine that was somehow more disturbing coming from someone who could level mountains. He gestured dramatically toward the bed, his movements fluid and unnaturally graceful. "He's not playing by the rules."

"Rules?" Mohawk scoffed, rising to his full height but never releasing Y/N's hand. His mohawk seemed to bristle with his rising anger, his free hand clenching into a fist that could pulverize steel. 

"Since when do you give a shit about rules? Wasn't it in your universe, you turned an entire kindergarten class inside out because you were bored. You turned their fucking little kids bodies inside OUT!" His voice rose with each word until he was practically shouting, the veins in his neck standing out against his skin.

Something dark flickered across Sinister's face—not guilt, but perhaps irritation at having his actions so casually exposed. "They were defective specimens," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, the black material of his suit rippling with the movement. "I was simply... quality testing." His voice dropped to a purr as his gaze returned to Y/N. "I'm much more careful with the things I truly value."

Omni Mark moved between them, his presence creating a buffer zone in the suddenly too-small cabin. Outside, the first hints of dawn were breaking through the trees, casting long shadows through the broken window that stretched across Y/N's still form like spectral fingers.

"The agreement stands," he stated firmly, his gaze settling on Mohawk. "Six hours each. It's Sinister's turn to watch over her." Though his words were reasonable, there was steel beneath them—the voice of a man who had killed his own father to assume his mantle.

"Not happening," Mohawk insisted, his jaw set in stubborn defiance. His grip on Y/N's hand tightened possessively, his thumb absently stroking her skin. "I found her first. She stays with me." There was something almost childlike in his insistence, a stark contrast to his usual abrasive personality.

"Found her?" Omni's eyebrow raised slightly, the subtle movement speaking volumes. "Or recognized her? There's a difference, one you seem intent on blurring." His voice remained level, but there was an edge to it now—the hint of a threat beneath the reasoned exterior.

Mohawk's face hardened, his grip on Y/N's hand tightening imperceptibly. "What's your point?" The question came out as a snarl, the brief flash of vulnerability vanishing beneath his customary aggression.

"My point," Omni said with maddening patience, stepping closer until he towered over Mohawk despite their identical height, "is that you're confusing this Y/N with your dead girlfriend. They may share a face, but they are not the same person." Each word was precisely calibrated to wound, delivered with surgical precision.

The words hit Mohawk like physical blows, each one landing with accuracy on his most vulnerable spots. He flinched, his face momentarily betraying the raw wound that still festered beneath his brash exterior. For a heartbeat, the swagger and bravado fell away, revealing the broken man beneath.

"Fuck you," he spat, but the words lacked their usual venom, hollowed out by the truth in Omni's assessment. His fingers trembled slightly around Y/N's, as if afraid she might dissolve into nothing if he let go.

Sinister's grin returned, wider than ever, feeding on the emotional distress like a shark scenting blood in the water. He slid closer, moving with that unnatural fluidity that made him seem more shadow than solid. "Oh, did we touch a nerve? Poor baby Mohawk, still crying over spilled girlfriend?" His voice was a singsong mockery, designed to cut deep.

Before anyone could react, Mohawk launched himself at Sinister, releasing Y/N's hand for the first time in hours. His fist connected with Sinister's jaw with a thunderclap sound that shook the cabin's foundations, sending both of them crashing through the already damaged wall and into the clearing outside. The impact sent splinters of wood flying in all directions, the cabin itself groaning in protest at the abuse.

Omni didn't move to stop them, simply sighing as if dealing with particularly troublesome children. He glanced down at Y/N, still miraculously unconscious despite the chaos erupting around her. The black lenses of his mask kept his emotions sealed away, but he couldn't help but admire the dawn light caught on her features, highlighting the delicate arch of her cheekbones, the fan of her eyelashes against her skin, the beautiful texturing of her face.

His gaze lingered on the angry red burn around her neck where the collar had chafed, and something tightened in his chest—an unfamiliar sensation he couldn't immediately identify. The urge to reach out, to trace those marks with his fingertips, to soothe the damaged skin, caught him off guard with its intensity. In his universe, weakness was something to be despised, eliminated, she was weak. Yet seeing Y/N injured sparked not contempt but a fierce, protective impulse that both confused and disturbed him.

Outside, the sounds of combat intensified—trees splintering, earth trembling, the distinctive crack of breaking bones followed by inhuman howls of pain and rage. Omni moved to the broken wall, watching dispassionately as Mohawk and Sinister tore into each other with abandon, each blow powerful enough to level city blocks. Mohawk fought with raw fury, his attacks wild but devastating, while Sinister moved like liquid darkness, his laughter echoing through the forest despite the blood streaming from his mouth.

"Predictable," Omni murmured, shaking his head slightly. His attention returned to Y/N, studying her with calculating intensity. In his universe, he had a Y/N– and she was diagnosed with... He had never allowed himself before to have such a weakness, such an obvious pressure point for enemies to exploit. But looking at her now, compared to his. She looked so much healthier than his Y/n, and he could understand the appeal. The vulnerability. The humanity she represented.

A movement at the treeline caught his attention—a flash of white, there and gone so quickly it might have been imagination. But Omni knew better. His enhanced vision had captured the distinctive white uniform of Viltrumite Mark, watching from the shadows of the forest, a predator biding his time.

Interesting, Omni thought. So the old man isn't out destroying cities with the others. He's keeping watch.

The realization shifted his mental calculations. If Viltrumite was this invested already, the dynamics between the eight of them would grow even more complicated than anticipated. Another contender for Y/N's attention. Another threat to manage.

A particularly violent crash from outside drew his attention back to the fight. Sinister had Mohawk pinned against a massive pine, one hand wrapped around his throat while the other formed into something like a blade, poised to plunge into Mohawk's chest. Sinister's face was a mask of ecstasy, as if Mohawk's suffering was the sweetest nectar.

"Enough!" Omni commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly across the clearing, echoing through the trees with supernatural projection.

Both combatants froze, their heads turning in unison toward the cabin. Sinister's face was split in a rictus of joy, dark red leaking from a cut on his cheek, his black and yellow suit torn in places to reveal unnaturally pale skin beneath. Mohawk looked worse for wear, his mohawk completely flattened, one eye swollen shut, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, but still burning with defiance.

"He started it," Sinister whined, not loosening his grip on Mohawk's throat. His blade-hand hovered centimeters from Mohawk's chest, trembling slightly with restrained violence.

"And I'm ending it," Omni replied coldly, stepping through the ragged hole in the cabin wall. "Release him. Now." The command brooked no argument, delivered with the absolute authority of someone accustomed to having his every word obeyed.

For a moment, it seemed Sinister might refuse—might drive that blade-hand into Mohawk's chest just to prove he could, consequences be damned. But something in Omni's stance, in the quiet certainty of his command, made even Sinister hesitate.

With visible reluctance, he lowered Mohawk to the ground and stepped back, his suit rippling with barely contained violence. The blade melted back into a hand, though the fingers remained unnaturally elongated, twitching with bloodlust.

"Spoilsport," he muttered, but the killing edge had faded from his voice, replaced with childish petulance.

Mohawk massaged his throat, spitting a glob of blood onto the forest floor. The crimson splatter stood out stark against the loamy earth, a testament to the violence that always seemed to follow in their wake. "This isn't fucking over," he promised Sinister, already pushing himself upright despite his injuries, his battered pride more wounded than his body.

"I certainly hope not," Sinister replied with a wink that somehow managed to be both flirtatious and threatening. "I was just getting started." He licked his lips, tasting Mohawk's blood that had splattered there, savoring it like fine wine.

Omni stepped fully through the broken wall, moving to stand between them once more. "We need to establish some ground rules," he stated firmly. 

"This childish territorial behavior stops now. We have a mission—first, we already removed Y/N's collar without killing her, now when she walks we can use her to access GDA's central database through the broken remains." His tone was that of a general outlining a battle plan, brooking no argument.

"And after?" Mohawk demanded, his gaze darting between Omni and the cabin where Y/N still lay unconscious. Blood dripped from his chin, spattering his blue and black suit, but he seemed not to notice, all his focus on Y/N's fate.

A slight smile curved Omni's lips. "After, we'll discuss arrangements. But for now—" He turned to face the treeline directly, raising his voice slightly. "Why don't you join us, Viltrumite? Lurking in shadows doesn't suit a man of your... stature."

A tense silence followed, broken only by the sounds of forest wildlife beginning their morning routines, oblivious to the godlike beings in their midst. Then, with deliberate slowness, a figure emerged from between the ancient pines.

Viltrumite Mark moved with the confidence of someone who had never known true defeat. His white uniform gleamed in the early morning light, pristine despite the forest surroundings, the material somehow repelling even the morning dew. Unlike the others, who wore their power like a threat or a shield, Viltrumite carried his like birthright—unquestioned, absolute. His posture was military-straight, chin raised in perpetual superiority, eyes cold and assessing beneath hooded lids.

"Omni," he acknowledged with a slight inclination of his head. His eyes flicked dismissively over Mohawk and Sinister before returning to Omni. "I see your babysitting duties are keeping you occupied." There was just the faintest curl of contempt in his tone, the barest hint of a sneer playing at the corner of his mouth.

Sinister hissed, the sound more reptilian than human, his suit rippling in response to his agitation. Mohawk's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles cracking loudly, fresh blood welling from his split knuckles.

"Merely maintaining order," Omni replied smoothly, unruffled by the implied slight. "Though I'm curious why you're here instead of razing cities on this planet with the others." His tone was conversational, but his stance had shifted subtly—more alert, ready for whatever came next.

Viltrumite's expression remained impassive, but something calculating flickered in his eyes. "Emperor and Prisoner were enthusiastic enough for all of us. I thought my time might be better spent... observing." He glanced toward the cabin, and though his face revealed nothing, his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on the gap in the wall where Y/N's unconscious form was just visible on the bed inside.

"Spying, you mean," Mohawk accused bluntly, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. The morning light caught the scarlet smear, making it gleam wetly against his skin. "You're not fooling anyone with your superior act, old man."

Viltrumite barely spared him a glance, regarding him with the casual disdain one might show an insect. "Call it what you will. I prefer to know what pieces are in play before committing to a strategy." The way he stood—perfectly still, unnaturally composed—made him seem more like a statue than a living being, save for the calculating intelligence that burned behind his eyes.

"Pieces?" Mohawk's voice rose dangerously, his battered face contorting with fresh rage. The blood vessels in his neck stood out like ropes as he took a threatening step forward. "She's not a fucking chess piece, she's—"

"A resource," Viltrumite cut him off coldly, finally deigning to look directly at Mohawk. "One we need alive and cooperative. Your emotional attachment is..." His lip curled slightly, the first real expression to crack his marble façade. "Inefficient."

Before Mohawk could launch himself at yet another Mark, a faint sound from inside the cabin froze them all—a soft moan, barely audible, but to their enhanced hearing, it might as well have been a thunderclap.

As one, they turned toward the cabin, all pretense of disinterest abandoned. Even Viltrumite's carefully maintained indifference cracked, something hungry flashing across his features before he could suppress it—and beneath that hunger, something softer, almost vulnerable, that vanished so quickly it might have been a trick of the morning light.

"She's waking up," Sinister breathed, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. The manic energy that typically animated his every movement stilled suddenly, replaced by an intense focus that was somehow more disturbing than his usual chaos.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, as if released from a starting gate, all four marks surged toward the cabin—Mohawk and Sinister actually colliding in their haste to be first through the broken wall, Omni and Viltrumite close behind, their usual dignity forgotten in their eagerness to witness Y/N's awakening.

Inside, Y/N's eyelids fluttered, her breathing pattern changing as consciousness began to return. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, her head turning slightly on the pillow as awareness slowly filtered back. A grimace of pain crossed her features even before her eyes fluttered open, her body registering the damage before her mind fully awakened.

Mohawk shoved past Sinister, reaching the bedside first by mere inches. He dropped to his knees beside her, his expression a complex mixture of hope, fear, and naked longing that would have shocked anyone who knew only his brash exterior. Blood still dripped from his injuries, but he seemed entirely unaware of his own condition, all his attention focused on Y/N's awakening.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his normally abrasive voice gentled to something almost tender. The transformation was jarring—like watching a hurricane suddenly calm to a gentle breeze. "Can you hear me?"

Sinister crowded in beside him, his grin feral with anticipation. "Wake up, little one," he crooned, the sound somehow both soothing and deeply unsettling, like a lullaby sung by a demon. His hand hovered just above her cheek, not quite touching, as if savoring the moment before contact. "We have so much to discuss."

Omni and Viltrumite maintained a slight distance, both too controlled to show the same naked eagerness as the others, but their intensity was no less palpable. Omni's hands were clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles had whitened, the only visible sign of his internal struggle. His eyes never left Y/N's face, cataloging every flicker of expression, every micro-movement as consciousness returned.

Viltrumite stood perfectly still, his breathing barely perceptible, yet there was an almost palpable aura of anticipation surrounding him. The usual cold superiority in his eyes had warmed to something more complex—a mixture of calculation, desire, and proprietary interest that transformed his entire demeanor.

The small cabin seemed to shrink around them, the air growing thick with tension and expectation. The morning light spilling through the gaps in the walls caught dust motes dancing in the air, creating an almost surreal atmosphere around the tableau of identical men gathered around the bed.

Y/N's eyes opened fully at last, unfocused at first, blinking rapidly against the light. A soft whimper of pain escaped her as she tried to move, her body clearly registering the full extent of her injuries from the previous day's battle. Bruises blossomed across her visible skin in violent purples and yellows, and dried blood matted a section of her hair where she'd taken a particularly brutal hit.

Her gaze slowly focused on the impossible sight before her—four identical faces with wildly different expressions, all staring down at her with varying degrees of possession and hunger.

Her lips parted, and the four Marks leaned forward slightly, each desperate to hear her first words in this strange new reality they'd thrust her into.

"What..." Her voice emerged hoarse, rusty from disuse and the trauma of the collar. She swallowed painfully, wincing as the motion irritated the raw skin of her neck, her hand instinctively rising to touch the injury before falling back weakly to the bed. "What the fuck is going on?"

Mohawk's face split into a genuine grin, a bark of laughter escaping him that seemed to contain equal parts relief and delight. "That's my girl," he said softly, the possessive pronoun slipping out before he could stop it. His smile faltered slightly as he realized his mistake, but the pride in his eyes remained undimmed.

Y/N's eyes narrowed, focusing specifically on him. She tried to push herself up on her elbows but collapsed back with a hiss of pain, her muscles trembling with the effort. Recognition flickered across her features—not of him personally, but of the situation, memories rushing back in a disorienting flood.

"You," she managed, her voice strengthening slightly despite the raw pain evident in every syllable. "All of you. The bridge. The fighting." Her eyes immediately widened, her hand rose with more strength this time, instinctively to her neck, fingers tracing the burn left by the collar. Every movement was clearly agonizing, her body a map of pain from the confrontation. "You took me."

"Rescued," Viltrumite corrected smoothly, stepping closer. His white uniform caught the light, creating an almost halo-like effect that contrasted sharply with the cold authority in his voice. "The term is rescued, my dear." The endearment sounded strange coming from him—formal, archaic, yet undeniably possessive.

Y/N's gaze shifted to him, taking in the white uniform, the authoritative stance. Her breath caught momentarily, a flash of something like recognition crossing her features, but not the kind any of them hoped for—this was recognition of danger, of power unchecked by conscience. She shrank back against the pillows, her body language screaming distrust despite her weakened state.

"Kidnapped," she countered, voice firm despite her obvious weakness. Every word seemed to cost her, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"The term is fucking kidnapped." She attempted once more to sit up, her face contorting with pain as her abused muscles protested.

Omni made an aborted movement toward her, his hand extending slightly before he caught himself and resumed his rigid posture. The brief slip in his composure did not go unnoticed by the others—Sinister's grin widened knowingly, and Viltrumite's eyes narrowed with calculation.

Sinister laughed delightedly, clapping his hands together like a child at a particularly entertaining show. "Oh, she has spirit! I like this one even more now." His eyes gleamed with manic enthusiasm, his entire body vibrating with barely contained energy. "So much more fun when they fight back."

Y/N struggled again to sit up, her muscles protesting after hours of unconsciousness and the brutal beating she'd endured. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort, her teeth gritted against the pain that clearly radiated through every limb. Mohawk moved to help her, but she flinched away from his touch, eyes wide with distrust.

"Don't," she warned, the single syllable sharp with fear and determination. Her hand raised weakly in a warding gesture, trembling with the effort.

Mohawk froze, his hand suspended in midair, something raw and wounded flashing across his features before he could mask it. The rejection hit him visibly, like a physical blow, cracking through his usual bravado. He withdrew slowly, jaw clenching, shoulders hunching slightly inward in a defensive posture that betrayed his hurt.

"We're not going to hurt you," Omni said, his voice calm and reasonable—the voice of a man used to being believed. Yet beneath that reasonable tone lurked something else—concern, genuine and unexpected. His gaze lingered on her trembling form, on the visible evidence of her suffering, and something in his expression softened fractionally. "We need your help."

"My help?" Y/N repeated incredulously, looking from one Mark to the next. Her laugh was bitter, ending in a wince as the movement jarred her injured ribs. "You killed people. I saw you. On the bridge, in the city." Her voice rose slightly, cracking with emotion. "You're monsters."

Sinister preened at this, as if she'd paid him a compliment, running his hands down his suit in a gesture of mock modesty. "You flatter me, darling." His tongue flicked out, unnaturally long, wetting his lips in a gesture that was deliberately provocative.

Viltrumite's expression remained impassive, not bothering to deny or justify the slaughter. In his world, such casualties were beneath notice, unworthy of acknowledgment.

Omni had the grace to look slightly troubled, a frown creasing his brow momentarily before his face smoothed back to careful neutrality. "Regrettable but necessary casualties," he said, the words practiced, as if recited from a script he'd used many times before.

But it was Mohawk's reaction that caught her attention—a flinch, subtle but unmistakable, as if her words had struck a physical blow. His eyes dropped, unable to meet her accusing gaze. "Not all of us," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Some of us just... got caught up in the wrong crowd." The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears, his usual swagger entirely absent.

Sinister snorted derisively, the sound oddly wet and inhuman. "Please. You tore through groups of civilians like tissue paper, laughing. Don't pretend you're any better than the rest of us." His grin was knife-sharp, delighting in exposing Mohawk's hypocrisy. "I still remember that mother and child—how you separated them with one punch. Such beautiful screams."

"At least I'm not proud of it," Mohawk shot back, eyes still fixed on Y/N's face, drinking in her features with desperate intensity. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, yearning to reach for her yet respecting the boundary she'd established.

Y/N pushed herself further up against the headboard, each movement a study in agony, her face pale and drawn with pain and shock. She tried to put as much distance between herself and the four identical men as the small bed would allow. Her eyes darted between them, calculating, assessing—looking for weaknesses, for differences, for any advantage she might use.

"Why me?" she finally asked, her voice steadier now despite the rasp. One hand cradled her ribs protectively, while the other braced against the headboard for support. "What do you want?"

The four Marks exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them—perhaps the first moment of genuine unity since they'd arrived in this universe.

"First we wanted more universes for ourselves, but now. We need her to access data from the broken collar remains," Omni explained, gesturing toward her neck, then to his hand where he was holding the torn piece of metal. "It contains access codes to the GDA's central database. Information we need. I believe you can only access it." His tone was businesslike, but his eyes lingered on the angry burns circling her throat with an expression that might almost have been a concern.

Y/N's hand flew to her neck again, fingertips tracing the raised, angry flesh where the metal had burned her. "This? T-that was a security measure! It doesn't hold anything–! " Disbelief colored her voice as she explored the extent of the damage, wincing as her fingers encountered particularly sensitive areas.

"One they were willing to let kill you rather than have it fall into the wrong hands," Viltrumite added, his voice carrying a note of genuine disgust. "Humans. Always ready to sacrifice their own." Despite his contemptuous words, there was something almost protective in his stance as he watched her—the tension in his shoulders, the slight forward tilt of his body, as if ready to catch her should she fall.

Something flashed in Y/N's eyes at his dismissive tone—a spark of defiance, of anger cutting through the pain and fear. "And what would you know about sacrifice? You're not even from this universe." Each word was delivered with precision despite her weakened state, targeting Viltrumite's obvious superiority complex.

Viltrumite's carefully controlled expression slipped for just a moment, revealing something ancient and pained beneath—a wound so deep and well-guarded that its brief exposure was shocking. "More than you might imagine," he said softly, surprising even himself with the admission. For just an instant, the marble façade cracked, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the imperial bearing.

The atmosphere in the cabin shifted subtly, charged with unspoken histories. Outside, the forest had fully awakened, birds calling to each other in the morning light that streamed through the broken wall and shattered window, creating a surreal backdrop to the tense scene within.

Y/N looked between them again, her gaze settling on each Mark in turn, noting the differences in their expressions, their postures, the way they carried themselves despite wearing the same face. Her analytical scrutiny was impressive given her condition—strength of mind persisting despite her body's weakness.

"So what happens now?" she asked, her voice carrying a forced calm, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her fear. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead from the effort of remaining upright, her breathing shallow and carefully controlled to minimize the pain in her ribs. "You removed my collar, going to get your information, and then what? Kill me? Let me go?"

"Kill you?" Mohawk looked genuinely horrified at the suggestion, recoiling physically as if she'd struck him. "No one's fucking killing you." The words burst from him with such raw sincerity that even Sinister's mocking grin faltered momentarily.

"We wouldn't waste such a valuable resource," Viltrumite stated pragmatically, earning a murderous glare from Mohawk. His choice of words was deliberately cold, but there was something in his eyes that contradicted his tone—a possessiveness that went beyond mere utility.

"What my less eloquent companions are trying to say," Omni interjected smoothly, stepping forward slightly, "is that your welfare is of concern to us." His voice was measured, reasonable—the voice of a negotiator, a leader. Yet beneath that calm exterior, something protective lurked, evident in the way his eyes continually assessed her injuries, cataloging each wince, each labored breath.

Sinister's grin widened impossibly. "Some more than others," he purred, eyes glittering with malicious amusement. He circled behind Mohawk, moving with that unnatural fluid grace, like a predator stalking its prey. "Our Mohawk here knew another you in his universe. She died. Very tragic. He's been crying about it for... how long has it been now? Eighteen months, two weeks, and four days?" The precise count was designed to wound, and it found its mark perfectly.

"Shut the fuck up," Mohawk snarled, half-rising from his position beside the bed. His fists clenched so tightly that fresh blood welled between his knuckles, dripping unnoticed to the rough wooden floor.

Y/N's eyes widened, her gaze fixing on Mohawk with new understanding. The pain of her physical injuries momentarily forgotten in the face of this revelation. "Is that true?" Her voice had softened slightly, the first hint of something other than fear or defiance entering her tone.

Mohawk looked away, unable to meet her eyes, the vulnerability in his expression a stark contrast to his aggressive posture. The usually arrogant set of his shoulders slumped, his mohawk seeming to droop along with his spirits. "It's complicated." The words were barely audible, forced through a throat tight with suppressed emotion.

"Oh, it's not complicated at all," Sinister continued, reveling in the discomfort he was causing. He circled behind Mohawk like a predator stalking wounded prey, his movements fluid and unnatural—too smooth to be human because he wasn't, he was a god in his eyes. The black portions of his suit seemed to absorb what little light touched them, creating shifting shadows that danced across his form. "She died in his arms. Blood everywhere. Very messy." His eyes gleamed with malicious delight, pupils dilating slightly at the memory of violence. "He's been a mess ever since. And now he thinks you're his second chance."

He leaned closer to Y/N, the temperature around him dropping several degrees as he moved. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, sweet as honey yet laced with poison. "He's not the only one with a history, though. We've all got our little... attachments."

The air in the cabin seemed to thicken with tension, dust motes frozen in the thin beams of sunlight breaking through the damaged walls. Y/N's labored breathing was painfully audible in the silence that followed.

"Enough," Omni commanded, steel beneath his reasonable tone. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the only outward sign of the emotion roiling beneath his controlled exterior. His eyes flickered briefly to Y/N's form—noting how she struggled to stay upright, the way her arms trembled with the effort of supporting her weight, the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she tried to breathe through obvious pain. His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to go to her, to support her battered body, to examine her injuries with his own hands nearly overwhelming his carefully maintained composure.

Y/N's gaze shifted to him, newly curious despite the pain etched into her features. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through her battered form, yet her eyes remained sharp, analytical. "What does he mean?" Blood had dried in her hairline, and bruises in various stages of development created a map of violence across her visible skin. When she shifted, a barely suppressed whimper escaped her lips.

Omni maintained his stoic expression, but something flickered behind his eyes—a shadow of memory, grief carefully controlled and compartmentalized. His posture remained rigid, hands clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles whitened. "It's irrelevant to our current situation." The words were clipped, precise, but lacked his usual authoritative conviction.

"Oh, I don't think it's irrelevant at all," Sinister crooned, moving like liquid shadow to circle behind Omni. His grin stretched wider than should have been physically possible, teeth gleaming unnaturally sharp in the dim light. "Tell her about your Y/N, Omni. The one who wasted away while you watched, helpless." His voice took on a sing-song quality, the cadence wrong, inhuman. "All your power, all your control, and you couldn't save her from something as simple as cancer. How your father watched you break, decided you were too weak, too emotional." His tongue flicked out, tasting the pain his words caused. "How you proved him wrong by ripping him apart."

Omni's jaw tightened further, a muscle jumping at his temple—the only visible sign of the rage building inside him. His red and gray suit seemed to darken with his mood, the shadows in the cabin deepening around him. "I said enough." The temperature in the cabin dropped several degrees with those three words.

But Y/N was looking at him differently now, seeing past the calm authority to something vulnerable beneath. Each breath clearly caused her pain, yet she leaned forward slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her injured ribs. "You lost someone too," she said softly, not a question but a realization. Blood had crusted at the corner of her mouth, her lips cracked and dry.

"We all did," Viltrumite said unexpectedly, drawing everyone's attention. He stood perfectly still, his white uniform catching the morning light, making him appear almost luminous against the rustic backdrop of the cabin. His imperial bearing seemed at odds with the weathered walls around him, like a marble statue placed in a garden shed. "In different ways." His voice carried the weight of centuries, of losses cataloged and filed away but never truly forgotten.

Sinister's grin was practically predatory now, delighting in pulling back the curtain on each of their carefully guarded pasts. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the manic energy within him impossible to contain. "Oh yes, tell her your story, old man. About how daddy dearest killed your precious human pet when you tried to bring her into the empire." His voice dripped with false sympathy, each word carefully chosen to cause maximum damage.

Viltrumite's face remained impassive, but his eyes—those were different now, burning with a cold fury that made the temperature in the cabin seem to drop further. The frost in his gaze could have frozen oceans. "She wasn't a pet," he said, each word precise, controlled, yet containing the force of avalanches. "She was mine. And my father took her from me because she was human. Weak. Unworthy of the empire." His gaze fixed on Y/N with uncomfortable intensity, drinking in her features with possessive hunger. "But you're different. You have Viltrumite blood, however diluted. You're stronger. You could survive."

Y/N stared at him, a chill running down her spine at the implication in his words. She tried to push herself further upright but collapsed back with a pained gasp, her body simply too damaged to obey her commands. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort, her skin ashen beneath the bruises and dirt. "Survive what?" The question emerged as little more than a whisper, her throat raw from the collar's damage.

"The empire, of course," Viltrumite answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly, leaning toward her like a planet drawn to a sun. "Where you belong. At my side." The possessiveness in his tone was absolute, brooking no argument or alternative.

"That's not happening," Mohawk growled, shoving himself between Y/N and Viltrumite. His mohawk seemed to bristle with his rising anger, like the hackles of a threatened animal. He bared his teeth in a feral snarl, blood still dripping from his split lip, giving him a savage appearance. "She's not going anywhere with you." Despite his aggressive stance, when he glanced back at Y/N, his expression softened momentarily, eyes lingering on her injuries with poorly disguised concern.

"She's not going anywhere with any of you," a new voice interrupted, and all heads turned toward the broken wall.

Phantom Mark stood there, his translucent suit catching the light in eerie, otherworldly patterns that seemed to bend reality around him. Unlike the others, his expression was solemn, almost sad, as he surveyed the scene before him. His eyes lingered on Y/N's battered form, something like regret flickering across his features before it was swiftly buried.

"The others are coming back," he announced, his voice echoing slightly as though coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Emperor and No-Mask have finished their fun in the city." His lip curled slightly at the word 'fun,' a brief flash of disapproval breaking through his ghostly demeanor. "Prisoner is on his way too."

Sinister clapped his hands together with childish glee, the sound unnaturally sharp in the tense atmosphere. His entire body vibrated with excitement, the black portions of his suit rippling in response. "Oh, the gang's all here! This should be interesting." He rubbed his hands together, the motion too quick, too eager—a child anticipating a particularly enjoyable game.

Y/N's face had gone pale, her eyes fixed on Phantom, the little color that remained draining from her cheeks. Her breathing quickened, pulling painfully at her damaged ribs, each inhalation a struggle. "How many cities did you destroy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the cabin like a blade.

Phantom had the grace to look away, unable to meet her accusatory gaze. The translucent portions of his suit seemed to dim, absorbing rather than reflecting the morning light that tried to touch it. "Enough." The single word carried a weight of unspoken justifications and buried guilt.

"Enough?" she repeated, her voice rising with incredulity despite the pain it clearly caused her. Her hands clenched in the rough blanket beneath her, knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. "People are dead because of you—all of you—and that's all you can say? 'Enough'?" Each word seemed to cost her, pain flashing across her features, yet her eyes blazed with righteous fury.

"Collateral damage," Viltrumite dismissed with a small wave of his hand, the gesture imperious, accustomed to wiping away concerns beneath his notice. His white uniform seemed to glow brighter in the shaft of sunlight that fell across him, creating an almost holy aura that contrasted sharply with the callousness of his words. "Inconsequential in the larger scheme."

"Inconsequential?" Y/N's voice cracked, rage and grief warring in her expression. She pushed herself upright despite the obvious agony it caused her, one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs, the other braced against the headboard for support. Blood had begun to seep through her shirt where wounds had reopened with her movement. "They were people! With families, with lives, with—"

"With an expiration date," Sinister cut in, his voice suddenly cold, all playfulness gone. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding until they nearly swallowed the irises. "All humans die, darling. Today, tomorrow, sixty years from now—what difference does it make? We just... accelerated the inevitable." He licked his lips slowly, savoring her reaction like a fine wine.

The casual cruelty of his statement hung in the air like poison, and something shifted in Y/N's expression—fear giving way to a different emotion entirely. Determination. Resolve. She straightened as much as her battered body would allow, a fresh trickle of blood making its way down her temple from a reopened wound.

"You're all monsters," she said again, but this time there was no fear in her voice, only certainty. The morning light caught in her eyes, igniting them with inner fire despite her physical weakness. "Every single one of you."

Mohawk winced, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. His shoulders hunched inward, his usual aggressive posture crumpling like paper. "Y/N, it's not—we're not all—" His voice cracked, unusual vulnerability breaking through his abrasive exterior. For a moment, the dangerous predator vanished, replaced by someone broken, desperate for understanding.

"Save it," she cut him off coldly, though her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than the others. "I don't care what version of you lost what version of me. I am not her. I will never be her. And I will never, ever help any of you after what you've done." Each declaration was punctuated by a labored breath, her body trembling with the effort of remaining upright, yet her resolve never wavered.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of forest life continuing on, oblivious to the drama unfolding within the cabin's walls. Y/N's ragged breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, each painful inhalation a reminder of her mortality among these godlike beings.

Then Sinister started to laugh—a low, dangerous sound that built steadily, filling the small space with malevolent mirth. The sound was wrong, inhuman, echoing in impossible ways. "Oh, you think you have a choice," he said when his laughter finally subsided, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "That's adorable." The word dripped with condescension and dark promise.

He moved toward her with preternatural speed, faster than the others could react. The black portions of his suit seemed to extend and flow as he moved, like living shadows eager for the kill. His hand shot out, grabbing her chin in a grip that was just shy of crushing, forcing her to look directly into his face. The contrast of his black glove against her skin made her appear even more fragile, more human.

"Let me tell you about my Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the room. His face was inches from hers, his breath caressing her skin like a poisonous fog. "She was human too. Fragile. Breakable. But she was mine, and I cherished her in my own way. Played with her. Sometimes too rough." His grin widened, showing too many teeth, sharp and gleaming in the dim light. "But she loved it. Or learned to. Until a hero decided to 'rescue' her from me."

His grip tightened slightly, and Y/N couldn't suppress a small sound of pain. Fresh bruises began forming under his fingers, blooming like dark flowers on her skin. "Know what happened then? This 'hero' killed her right in front of me. Said she was 'tainted' by her association with me. Too far gone to save. Put his hand right through her chest." Sinister mimicked the motion with his free hand, making a brutal tearing gesture that displaced the air with an audible whoosh. "That was the day I learned what I really was. What I was capable of." The black parts of his suit seemed to writhe with the memory, responding to his emotions like a living extension of his being.

"Let. Her. Go." Mohawk's voice was deadly quiet, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to release. The blue and black of his suit seemed to darken with his rage, the bruises on his face standing out in stark relief against his pale skin. His hands had formed into fists so tight that fresh blood welled between his knuckles, dripping unnoticed to the rough wooden floor.

Sinister ignored him, his eyes never leaving Y/N's. The pupils had expanded unnaturally beneath his black lenses, almost hypnotic in their intensity. "You think you know what monsters are? You haven't seen anything yet, darling. But you will. And you will help us, whether you want to or not. Because the alternative..." His voice trailed off, the threat clear in his gleaming eyes, his thumb brushing almost tenderly across her cheekbone, leaving a smear of blood in its wake.

"That's enough," Omni said, his voice carrying the weight of command. He took a step forward, red and gray suit catching the light differently now, seeming to absorb it rather than reflect it. The temperature around him dropped perceptibly, frost forming on the wooden floor where he stood. "Release her, Sinister. Now." Each word fell like a hammer blow, precise and devastating.

For a moment, it seemed Sinister might refuse. The black portions of his suit rippled with anticipation, reaching toward Y/N like hungry tentacles. Then, with deliberate slowness, he uncurled his fingers from Y/N's chin, leaving angry red marks that would soon bloom into bruises. His fingertips lingered a moment too long, trailing down her jaw with possessive intimacy.

"As you wish," he said with exaggerated courtesy, stepping back with a theatrical bow. "For now." The promise of later hung in the air between them, dark and inevitable.

Y/N's hand went to her chin, rubbing the sore spots where his fingers had dug in. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of fear and defiance as she looked around at the gathered Marks. Despite her obvious pain—the way her breath caught when she moved too quickly, the subtle tremor in her limbs from exhaustion and trauma—her spine remained straight, her gaze unwavering.

"I will never help you," she repeated, each word deliberate and clear despite her raw throat. Blood had begun to seep through the fabric at her side, her injuries reopening with each movement. "Not willingly."

"Then we'll have to persuade you," came another voice from the doorway, this one hard and imperious, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Emperor Mark stood there, resplendent in his yellow and blue-gray uniform, the very picture of regal authority. Sunlight caught on the golden accents of his suit, creating a corona around his imposing figure. His stance was wide, commanding, a ruler accustomed to immediate obedience. Behind him loomed No-Mask, his unmarked face a stark contrast to his blood-spattered uniform, eyes cold and distant, as if still seeing the destruction he'd left behind.

"Persuasion takes many forms," Emperor continued, stepping into the already crowded cabin with easy confidence. His boots left imprints in the wooden floor, such was the weight of his presence. His eyes settled on Y/N with the calculated interest of a collector assessing a rare acquisition. "Not all of them unpleasant."

"Some of them very pleasant indeed," Sinister added with a lascivious wink that made Y/N's skin crawl visibly. His tongue flicked out, unnaturally long, wetting his lips in a deliberately provocative gesture.

Mohawk growled low in his throat, positioning himself more firmly between Y/N and the newcomers. His mohawk stood in rigid spikes, as if electrified by his anger. Blood still dripped from his various wounds, but he seemed entirely unaware of his injuries, every sense focused on protecting the woman behind him. "Back off, Emperor. She's been through enough." His voice was rough gravel, yet beneath the hostility lay something almost tender when referring to Y/N.

Emperor looked down at him with thinly veiled contempt, one eyebrow arched in aristocratic disdain. The golden highlights of his uniform caught the light as he shifted, casting imperial patterns across the cabin's weathered walls. "Your attachment is clouding your judgment, Mohawk. This isn't about her comfort. It's about what we need." He spoke with the absolute certainty of one who had never been denied, each syllable weighted with unquestioned authority.

"And what we need," Omni interjected smoothly, stepping forward with calculated precision, "is her cooperation. Which we won't get through intimidation or coercion." The reasonable tone couldn't entirely mask the steel beneath his words. His eyes flickered to Y/N again, noting how the color had drained from her face, how each breath seemed to cost her. Something in his rigid posture softened minutely. "We can give you time. To adjust. To understand the situation. But make no mistake—one way or another, we will access the broken collar remains."

Y/N looked around at the seven Marks now crowding the small cabin, each wearing the same face but with wildly different expressions—from Sinister's malevolent glee to Mohawk's desperate protectiveness, from Emperor's cold calculation to Phantom's resigned sadness. The morning light caught different aspects of each of them—glinting off Emperor's golden accents, absorbed by the shadows of Sinister's suit, highlighting the blood still wet on No-Mask's uniform.

For the first time since waking, genuine fear flickered across her features, breaking through her defiant facade. One Mark she might have had a chance against. Two, possibly, if she was clever. But seven, with an eighth somewhere nearby? The odds were impossible. A tremor ran through her battered body, visible to all with their enhanced vision, a painful reminder of her humanity among these godlike beings.

"One day," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm despite the pain evident in every syllable. She swallowed hard, wincing as the motion aggravated her damaged throat, the burns from the collar angry and raw against her skin. "Give me one day to... process this. Then we'll talk about the collar."

The Marks exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them—calculation, consideration, desire—all focused on the battered woman before them.

"One day," Omni agreed, speaking for the group, his voice carrying the weight of a contract signed in blood. "Starting now."

Y/N nodded slowly, her movements careful, measured against the pain that clearly radiated through every fiber of her being. Her mind was visibly racing behind those defiant eyes, looking for angles, for weaknesses, for any possible way out of the impossible situation she found herself in. Despite her condition, there was a sharpness to her gaze that spoke of intelligence, of calculation beneath the pain.

"I'd like some privacy," she said, her voice stronger now, drawing on reserves of will that impressed even Viltrumite, whose eyes narrowed slightly with newfound appreciation. "And food, if you have any." Her hand pressed against her side where blood had begun to seep through her clothing, her face paling further with the movement.

"I'll get it," Mohawk volunteered instantly, eager for any excuse to be useful to her. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by an almost puppyish eagerness that would have been comical under other circumstances. He turned toward what passed for a kitchen area, moving with barely contained energy, casting frequent glances back at Y/N as if afraid she might disappear if he looked away too long.

"And I'll ensure she has privacy," Viltrumite stated in a tone that brooked no argument, positioning himself near the broken wall like a sentinel. His white uniform caught the sunlight streaming through the gaps, creating an almost ethereal glow around his imposing figure. His eyes never left Y/N, drinking in her features with possessive intensity. "No one approaches without my permission."

The others began to file out, each casting lingering glances at Y/N as they went—some calculating, some hungry, some almost sorrowful. Emperor's cape rustled as he turned, the sound of expensive fabric incongruous in the rustic cabin. No-Mask followed silently, his bloodstained hands flexing at his sides, eyes distant as if already contemplating further destruction. Phantom drifted toward the door, his translucent form seeming to merge with the morning light before solidifying again.

Only Sinister paused in the doorway, turning back with that too-wide grin that stretched the boundaries of what a human face should be capable of. The black portions of his suit seemed to reach toward Y/N, living shadows hungry for her touch. "Sweet dreams, darling," he crooned, voice honeyed poison. "I'll be seeing you... very soon." His tongue flicked out one last time before he melted into the shadows outside, his laughter lingering in the air like a bad smell.

When they had all gone except for Viltrumite standing guard at the perimeter and Mohawk rummaging through the cabin's sparse supplies, Y/N finally allowed herself to slump back against the pillows, exhaustion and fear catching up with her in a rush. A soft whimper escaped her lips as the movement jarred her injuries, the sound quickly stifled as she bit down hard on her lower lip. Blood welled from where her teeth had broken the skin, adding to the collection of wounds that mapped the violence visited upon her body.

One day. She had one day to figure out how to escape seven—no, eight—versions of the most powerful being on Earth, each with their own agenda, each seeing her as something to be possessed. Each wearing the face of someone who had once been her ally, her friend...perhaps more. The cruel irony wasn't lost on her even through the haze of pain that clouded her thoughts.

As Mohawk approached with a tin of what looked like soup and a relatively clean spoon, his expression so nakedly hopeful it would have been pitiful under other circumstances, Y/N made herself meet his eyes. She saw past the cocky exterior, the crude jokes and aggressive posturing, to the raw wound beneath—a man who had lost everything and saw in her face a second chance he knew he didn't deserve.

"Thank you," she said quietly, accepting the food, making sure their fingers didn't touch in the exchange. The simple act of holding the tin sent fresh waves of pain through her damaged muscles, but she refused to show weakness, gripping it with white-knuckled determination.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, nothing like his usual brash tones. His mohawk seemed to droop slightly, reflecting his uncertainty. Blood had dried in dark rivulets down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away, all his attention focused on her. "I know you're not her. I know that. But—"

"Don't," she cut him off gently, a softness in her tone that hadn't been there before. Despite everything, there was something in his naked vulnerability that touched her. "Please. Not now." The unspoken 'maybe later' hung between them, a crumb of hope she wasn't sure she meant to offer.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, nodding jerkily. "Right. Yeah. You need space. I get it." He backed away, his movements awkward, uncertain, so different from the confident swagger he'd shown earlier. The blue and black of his suit seemed dimmer somehow, reflecting his dejected mood. "I'll just... I'll be outside if you need anything." The offer was sincere, his eyes lingering on her injuries with genuine concern before he turned away.

When he was gone, Y/N looked down at the tin of soup in her hands, the thin broth rippling with the tremors she could no longer control. Her gaze traveled around the cabin's interior—the rough-hewn walls, the broken furniture, the splinters and debris from the damaged door and wall—before settling on Viltrumite's back where he stood watch, his white uniform pristine against the forest backdrop, giving her the illusion of privacy while missing nothing.

One day. One chance.

She began to eat, methodically, mechanically, each swallow painful against her damaged throat, but necessary. Building her strength for whatever came next. The food was tasteless in her mouth, but she forced herself to continue, knowing she would need every ounce of energy she could muster.

Through the broken window, she could see slivers of the forest beyond, the sunlight dappling through ancient trees, birds flying free overhead, the promise of freedom so close and yet impossibly far away. The contrast between the peaceful wilderness and her desperate situation created a surreal dissonance that made her head swim.

Somewhere out there, seven Marks were waiting, planning, wanting. Patient predators circling their wounded prey. And she was trapped in the center of their web, a prize none of them were willing to relinquish.

One day to find a way out.

The sound of the forest continued undisturbed—birds calling, leaves rustling, life proceeding as it always had—indifferent to the cosmic drama unfolding within the cabin's broken walls. Y/N closed her eyes briefly, gathering her resolve like armor around her battered spirit.

The clock was ticking.

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☆ Next chapter is going to be instance, perhaps a first kiss ♡ ♡ ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

☆ It's crazy, how writer's block hasn't hit me yet (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

♡ Pt.4 ♡

Pt.1 Pt.2 ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-ꕤ.ﾟ Pt.5

[insidekatmind]

Mine-Erik Killmonger

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The arena of Wakanda is a whirlwind of voices and tension. You’re in the front row, watching the fight that could change the fate of the nation. Erik Killmonger, with his powerful physique and the scars of his battles, stands tall like a titan against T’Challa, the Black Panther, a man you’ve always admired.

Your heart is pounding. The tension in the air is almost suffocating.

And then it happens. With a decisive move, Erik lifts T’Challa and hurls him off the waterfall. The king falls, his body swallowed by the waters below, and a chilling silence descends upon the arena.

Killmonger turns to face you, the people of Wakanda. His eyes burn with determination and defiance. He moves like a lion that has just claimed its territory. He points at the void left by T’Challa, the king’s body now out of sight.

“Is this your king? Huh? Is this your king?” he shouts, his voice echoing through the mountains. Every word strikes like a blow, every pause weighs heavily on your chest.

Your eyes fill with tears, but you don’t look away. You can’t. You’re frozen, your loyalty torn between the grief of loss and the fear of what’s to come.

“The Black Panther, who’s supposed to lead you into the future! He’s supposed to protect you!” he continues, his voice as sharp as a blade. You feel exposed under his gaze, as if he’s speaking directly to you.

Then he pounds his chest with his fist, his eyes locked onto each of you. “Nah, I’m your king.”

As the crowd remains divided between silence and murmurs, you clench your fists.

After the fight, Erik was sitting on the throne of the kingdom and you voices inside the room where he was. M'Baku tries to stop you but you ignore him. Erik looks at you with a smirk. He leans back on the throne, his smirk still in place, his eyes locking onto yours. M'Baku stands nearby, trying to hold you back.

“What’s this?” Eric says, amusement in his voice. “I have visitors already.”

M’Baku shoots you a warning look, but your eyes stay fixed on Erik as you approach.

“You killed T’Challa,” you blurt out angrily, moving closer to him. M'Baku's eyes widen and he tries to pull you back but you glare at him.Eric’s smirk deepens, almost as if your anger pleases him. He leans forward on the throne, his gaze intense.

“Killed T’Challa?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery. “That’s a strong way to put it. I defeated him. Fairly.”M’Baku clenches his jaw, but stays silent, his hand still on your arm, trying to keep you from getting too close.

You glare at Erik as you try to pull away from M'Baku. Eric watches you struggle against M'Baku’s grip, the smirk never leaving his face. He stands up from the throne and slowly approaches you, each step deliberate and filled with authority.

"Seems like you have something to say," he says, his voice taunting yet commanding. "Go on. Speak your mind."You glare at him and were about to speak but M'Baku interrupts you.

“I'm sorry my king, but Y/n is just upset, she doesn't know what she's talking about” he says putting his hand over your mouth warning you not to do anything stupid.You, M'Baku and T'Challa have always been great friends.

Erik smirks, his gaze flicking between you and M'Baku. He moves closer, towering over both of you.

“Upset, huh? I don’t blame her,” he says, his tone slightly mocking, but with a hint of understanding. He turns to M’Baku. “And you think you need to silence her? That’s not very friendly of you, M’Baku.”

M'Baku stiffens, his eyes narrowing at Eric. "I'm not trying to silence her, my king. I'm just trying to prevent her from doing something foolish." You squirm trying to get his hand away from your mouth.

Erik’s smirk broadens as he watches you struggle against M’Baku’s grip. He raises an eyebrow at M’Baku. "Looks like she’s quite feisty. I like my woman feisty."

You look at him in disgust. You were betrothed to T'Challa and since she is now dead and Erik is the king, you were betrothed to him. Erik chuckles at your look of disgust, clearly amused by your reaction. He knows full well the implications of being betrothed to a king.

"Ah, I see you've already realized the situation you're in," he says, his voice filled with a hint of mockery. "As a future queen, you should show me a bit more respect, don’t you think?"

You manage to lift M'baku's hand. "Respect? You are a murderer and I will not be your queen" you blurt out glaring at him. Erik's smirk vanishes. His eyes flash with annoyance as he steps closer to you, his presence suddenly menacing.

"Watch your tongue, princess." His voice is low and dangerous, a clear warning not to push his buttons. "I am your king now whether you like it or not. You would do well to show me some respect."

M'Baku's grip tightens on your arm as he tries to pull you back again, but you stand your ground, your defiance clear in your eyes. "I will never show you respect," you retort, a mix of anger and sadness in your voice. "You killed T'Challa. You betrayed Wakanda. I will never bow to you, you monster!"

Erik's face hardens at your words, his eyes narrowing. He takes a step closer, towering over you. "Monster?" he repeats, his voice laced with irritation. "You think you can lecture me on morality? You have no idea what I've been through. No idea what I've had to do in order to survive. To fight for my people." He takes another step, getting right in your face. "You've lived a privileged life in this golden city. I've lived a life of struggle and pain. Don’t judge me unless you know what I've endured."

You look at him without saying anything. Erik watches you the whole time. “Leave me alone with my future queen,” Erik says to M'Baku without stopping to look at you. M'Baku looks between you and Erik, hesitating for a moment, then he reluctantly lets go of you and leaves the throne room, closing the door behind him.

Now you're alone with Erik, the tension in the room palpable. He studies you intently. He circles you like a predator, his gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes roaming over your face, your body. Finally, he breaks the silence. "You have a lot of fire in you," he says, his voice low and quiet. "I find that... intriguing."

He stops directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming. "But you need to learn your place. You are mine now. My future queen, like it or not." He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprising in its tenderness.

"You can fight it all you want, but it won’t change a damn thing," he continues, his hand now cupping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You will be my queen. And you will bow to me. Whether you do it out of love or fear, it doesn’t matter. You will bow." He leans even closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. "And I have every intention of earning your submission," he purrs, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "One way or another."

As he leans even closer, his face mere inches from yours, your heart begins to race. You're both angry and flustered by his presence, his words, his touch. His face is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your skin. He’s so tall that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

"You're a very beautiful woman, you know that?" he whispers, his thumb gently caressing your chin. "I can understand why T'Challa valued you so highly." He leans in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "But he's gone," he murmurs. "And I’m here. You’re mine now." His words send a strange shiver down your spine, a confusing mix of fear and something else, harder to define.

He pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours. "You may hate me. You may despise me. But you will be my queen. And you will serve Wakanda as my partner."Erik runs his fingers down your arm, his touch sending another shiver coursing through your body. "And if you don’t... I have ways of making you cooperate."

His words hang in the air, a clear warning. His eyes soften for a brief moment, and a hint of vulnerability sneaks into his gaze. “You’re strong,” he says, his voice almost… sincere? “I respect that. But you can’t win this. You might as well accept it and make the best of it.”

You look at him vulnerable. Erik notices your softening expression, your vulnerability. It throws him off for a moment, he wasn't expecting that reaction. He studies you intently, his eyes searching yours, trying to decipher your thoughts. He can feel a change in you, a chink in your armor of anger and defiance. Erik steps closer, his hand moving to your cheek, his touch gentle.

"You're still angry," he says softly, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone. "I can see it in your eyes. But there's something else. A hint of... resignation?" Erik watches you closely, waiting for a response, the room silent except for his heavy breathing.

You close your eyes for a moment holding back the tears of anger and losing T'Challa. “You killed T’challa,” you whisper weakly. Erik’s eyes soften even more, noticing the pain and weakness in your voice. He takes another step closer, his body now almost pressing against yours.

He places his other hand on your other cheek, gently cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “Yes,” he whispers back, his voice almost tender. “I did. I had to.”

Tears fall from your eyes and Erik pulls you closer as you try to hit his chest and he lets you do it as he strokes your hair. He lets you push and shove against him, silently taking the blows without resisting. He just holds you closer, his hand soothingly caressing the back of your head as you hit his chest. A strange gentleness is in his eyes, a hint of empathy. He understands your pain and your anger, he sympathizes with you.

"Shh," he whispers quietly, holding you close, letting you cry. "I know it's hard. I understand your pain." Erik rests his chin on the top of your head, his hands rubbing your back in slow, gentle circles. He stays like that for a moment, holding you, letting you cry against his chest, the sound of your sobs filling the room. As your tears slowly subside, he pulls back slightly, tilting your face up to look at him again.

"I know you hate me," he says, his voice filled with more vulnerability than you've ever heard from him. "But I'm not the heartless monster you think I am. I do have a heart, though it's been buried deep for a long time." His eyes roam over your face, taking in your tear-streaked cheeks, your quivering lips. "I didn’t want to take T'Challa from you, but I had no choice. The throne belongs to me. And you..." he pauses, his hand gently tracing your chin. "... You belong to me now too."

He leans closer, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours, so close you can feel his warm breath on your skin. "And maybe, in time, you'll learn to accept that. Maybe even more..." His face is so close to yours that you can barely think straight. His body is almost pressed against yours, the heat of his skin radiating through his clothes.

He's waiting for a reaction, but you don't know what to do. You're still angry, you're still grieving, but there's something else there too, something he's awakening within you... His lips find yours in a surprisingly gentle, almost tentative kiss. It's a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer to him.The kiss deepens, his tongue demanding access to your mouth. He kisses you with a hunger and desperation, as if he's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

You kiss him back, holding on to him. He responds to your kiss enthusiastically, his hands roaming over your body, his tongue exploring your mouth with a primal lust. Erik backs you up against the nearest wall, pressing his body against yours, trapping you in his grasp. His hands move from your waist to your hips, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin. His mouth leaves yours, moving along your jawline, down to your neck, where he nips and kisses the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He presses his body into you, his hard muscles rubbing against your soft curves, the heat between you building with every second.

Erik kisses you again and walks back up to his throne, sitting on it making you straddle him as the two of you continue kissing. He sits down on the throne, pulling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of him. He captures your lips in another intense kiss, his hands roaming up and down your body. Erik lifts you slightly, positioning you better on his lap, his body pressed closely against yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the desire coursing through his veins, matching your own.

Erik unbuttons your dress, taking it off you without ever taking his lips away from yours. He kisses your chin, your neck, your collarbone, his lips blazing a trail down your body, his fingers roaming across your skin as if he can't get enough of you. His mouth is hot and insistent, his hands desperate as they explore your body. He lifts you again, bringing your chest level with his face, his lips trailing down your neck to your chest, his breath hot on your skin.

You moan softly and cling to him as you move on his lap to be closer. You moan a little louder feeling his erection between your legs. He growls at the sound of your moans, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. As you grind against him, feeling the hardness between your legs, he grips your hips tightly, holding you in place. Erik looks into your eyes, a dangerous mixture of desire and possessiveness gleaming in his gaze. "You're mine now," he whispers, his voice deep and hoarse. "All mine."

He captures your lips again, silencing you with a deep, urgent kiss. His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your flesh, leaving behind a trail of fire where they touch. He nips and kisses your neck, your collarbone, his hot breath sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Erik” you groan.

He responds to the sound of his name, his hands gripping you tighter. He leans forward, his mouth moving towards your ear. "I love the sound of you saying my name," he whispers huskily. "Say it again."

“Erik” you repeat. He growls again at the sound of his name on your lips, a low, primal sound. He pulls you closer, his body molding against yours, every inch of him pressed against you.

"Good girl," he purrs, his voice a deep rumble. "Moan my name again. Let me hear how much you want me." You moan as you move your hips making you grind on his erection.

He groans loudly at the feeling of your hips grinding against his erection. He tightens his grip on your hips, almost to the point of pain, trying to control himself. Erik lifts his head from your neck, his eyes dark with desire. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “You're driving me crazy."

You moan feeling Erik slap your ass and move your hips onto him. “Erik” you moan again resting your head in the crook of his neck as he continues to move your hips. He loves the way you moan his name, the way you surrender to the pleasure. Your head in the crook of his neck, your body willingly allowing him to control your move your hips, it’s more than he ever dreamed. Each time you say his name, it spurs him on, his desire burning hotter and hotter with each passing second.

With his left hand he plays with your little thong that you are still wearing while with his right hand he continues to move making you ride him. His left hand slides over you, his fingers slipping beneath the thin material of your thong, caressing your skin. It's so intimate, so possessive, it makes your head spin. Erik continues to control your movements with his hands, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, the friction and heat between you increasing with every motion.

With your head still on his shoulder, he moves his lips to your ear, his breath hot and uneven as he whispers. "You like that don't you? You like how I make you feel. You like being controlled by me."

“Yes,” you moan, moving your hips with the help of his hand. He grins darkly, loving the way you respond to his touch, his control. His hand on your hip tightens, guiding you in the motions.

Erik moves his lips from your ear, down to your neck, his tongue tracing a path across your skin, the heat between you building to almost unbearable heights. He bites down gently on your collarbone, his teeth leaving behind a mark on your skin. A mark that proclaims you as his. He pulls back to admire the mark, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“I'm going to come” you whisper as Erik moves his hips again. You had made his jeans wet with your arousal. He groans as you say you're close, the sound sending a shiver through him. He picks up the pace, moving with you, his breath ragged in your ear.

"I can feel you," he growls, his fingers digging into your hip. "You're so close. I can feel it." He adjusts his movements slightly, applying more pressure to your core, his own body clenching in anticipation.

“Erik” you moan feeling close. He smiled looking at you with lust as he slapped your ass. "Who is your king?" he whispers to you with authority. Your eyes meet his, the demand in his voice sending a shiver through you. You reply, your voice breathless. "Y-you are, my king."

His smile widens as you call him your king, a possessive gleam in his eyes. He pulls you closer, his chest against yours, his lips right next to your ear. "And who do you belong to?" He asks, his tone dark and commanding.

"You," you breathe, "I belong to you, my king." You surrender entirely, willingly giving yourself to him, body and soul. He growls again, the sound filled with approval and satisfaction. He kisses you fiercely, his tongue invading your mouth as the two of you continue to move against each other.

"Good girl," he murmurs between kisses, "You'll be a perfect queen."

You moan and come on his jeans. He feels you come on his jeans, the wetness seeping through the fabric and onto his skin. He groans, the primal sound reverberating through his chest. Erik slaps your ass, stopping your movements and then gently caresses your ass while he holds you against him as you bury your face in his neck, his hands now gentler, caressing your ass and soothing you. The moment is intense, intimate, and it solidifies your connection even further.

After a moment, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with desire, but there's a hint of softness there too, a vulnerability that he usually hides. "You're mine now," he says, his voice firm, but also tender. "No one else will have you. You understand that, don't you?"

You nod, your gaze locked with his. You understand what he's demanding of you, the commitment he's asking for. It's not a small thing, but it's what he wants, and deep down, it's what you want too. "I understand," you whisper, your voice a soft admission. "I'm yours."

A satisfied smile plays on his lips as you speak the words he's wanted to hear. "Good," he murmurs, his hand still on your chin, keeping you close. "You're mine, and I'll do anything to protect what's mine."

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (9) II a.putellas

part of the filling the void universe ft solstråle from @girlgenius1111 family line series filling the void (9) II a.putellas

you twirled a pen between your fingers as your gaze flickered downward, tapping your phone and rolling your eyes seeing another five minutes had passed without a text, solstråle now nearly fifteen minutes late and not any sort of explanation offered.

at first you’d wondered if maybe she got lost, but alexia had already told you that mapi had shown solstråle exactly where the library was. 

your sister herself had locked you in her car and refused to let you out today until you promised to be nice, after insisting on picking you up from work and dropping you off to your little study session to ‘save you a walk, which really you knew was just her way of ensuring you didn’t bail.

not that you had plans to, but you were starting to wonder if solstråle was.

alexia had at least followed through on her part of the study deal, and with some sly timing on your shopping trip inside her closet and olga keeping the blonde distracted during, you’d wound up with more than you were promised, much to alexia’s disdain once she noticed a couple of days later exactly what was missing.

having been raised right you were more than ready to be nice and attempt again to break through solstråle’s awkward interior as you arrived and made your way to the breakout room you’d booked. 

after filling mapi in on what happened at the game and how you were sure solstråle already disliked you, mapi was quick to assure it wasn’t you, ingrids sister was just…quiet. 

so trying to prepare best you could for what was in its entirety a new experience for you, you’d spent the morning sourcing some worksheets online and scouring your room for your old textbooks.

having given most of them away you at least still had a couple of basic ones from your final year of school, but you also just had no idea where the norwegian you’d be tutoring was even up to or what bar her spanish she specifically would want and need help with.

however now, still in your work scrubs with a hoodie tossed over the top and the beginning dull throb of an impending headache settling behind your eyes, your willingness and readiness to be so nice to the clearly time poor norwegian was wagering on paper thin.

tapping your nails against the desk you briefly considered leaving, a quick check showing the next bus you could take home was in five minutes and the stop was right outside, but just as you were preparing to pack up your things there was a knock on the door.

the taller brunette didn’t wait for you to say anything, the knock seeming more to let you know she’d arrived as she closed the door behind her and slumped down in the seat across from you, backpack dumped on the table and not a single word of conversation offered.

“llegas tarde.” you raised an eyebrow and stared her down as she looked right back at you blankly and your eyes rolled. “you are late.” you repeated in english, the norwegian shrugging and mumbling a quiet seemingly unbothered apology.

knowing that holding onto the anger simmering inside you would only make this even less productive you paused to calm yourself, twisting alba’s bracelet on your wrist and counting to five in your head before deciding to just start this all over fresh.

“um i do not really know where to start. do you have homework?” you guessed might be a decent starting point, the girl nodding wordlessly and moving to unzip her bag, pulling out a few loose worksheets as you cringed at the obvious disorganisation hidden within her backpack.

she slid the worksheets across the table as you flipped them around and scanned them, noting some were history and rest spanish language and literature. “do you have one you want to do more?” you questioned, solstråle only shrugging. “vale. or we could work on your spanish?” another silent shrug.

you could feel your patience being tested with each passing moment she remained quiet, trying to remind yourself over and over what mapi said about this taking some time, but this was rapidly seeming much more impossible than you were lead to originally believe.

“is there things you ah, struggle with? with spanish?” you questioned further, another shrug as you inhaled sharply and again counted to five in your head.

“bien. let us work through this then, I think I remember this case study.” you mumbled, scooting your chair around the table so the two of you could both read the worksheet right side up, not missing the way the older girl was fast to tense up and lean right away from you.

you tried not to be offended, subtly sniffing yourself and frowning when all you could smell was the perfume you’d spritzed yourself with, maybe it was too strong or she just had a sensitive sense of smell.

none the less taking your time you read through the first question, trying to speak slowly and clearly, well aware english was not either of your native languages. “did you bring the article?” you asked, checking the papers she’d put down and not able to find it in the small stack. 

“a yes or no would work.” you remanded when once more all you got was a shrug, followed by an eye roll and a hand shoved into the backpack.

“how do you even find the right paper in there?” you asked with a disturbed look, solstråle pausing to glare at you, mumbling something you didn’t understand and assumed was norwegian.

“here.” finally, a word, but you jumped with the force she slammed the paper down onto the desk with. 

“no, this is not it.” you scanned the first few sentences and shook your head. “well you have read it? why do you need it then?” the girl questioned bluntly and you were most taken aback by what was easily the longest sentence you’d heard leave her mouth.

“so we can answer these, because you will need quotes for these first three.” you managed to get out with a hardened jaw, flaring your nostrils as the brunette snatched the paper back and shoved it into her bag.

“solstråle. do you have the paper?” you asked firmly when a minute went by and she made no other move. once more, a muted shrug, and then you realised something you might have been overlooking.

“can you not read this? the spanish?” you asked a little more bluntly than intended, tired from a long day and what felt like a pointless exercise in patience, but it would seem you’d struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to with the taller girl none the less. 

“i can read spanish. i do not know what mapi told you but are you supposed to be helping me? because all you are doing is asking stupid questions. it has been thirty minutes and we have done nothing, this is a waste of time!” the norwegian scoffed as you stopped, sizing her up with narrowed eyes. 

“well you were late so i was already here for fifteen minutes doing nothing anyway, and i have been asking questions so i know what to help you with! but all i get is-” you pulled a face and aggressively shrugged your shoulders a few times clearly mocking the taller girl who gave you a glare. 

“alexia’s super little sister, everyone says you are so smart. can you not see i do not want your help? you want to be a doctor no? so go find someone who does!” solstråle grunted and now you were the one to scoff, pushing your chair back and shooting to your feet, rounding the table and collecting your things.

“eres un maldito idiota!” you spat, your temper well and truly unleashed now as all of your work to minimise the frustrations with the sullen girl across from you melted to nothing as your head was boiling.

“snobbete kjerring.” came the reply she knew you wouldn’t understand, your things all shoved into your bag now as you muttered angry rapid spanish under your breath, having reached the end of your rope you didn’t care if she understood you or not.

“you know i did this as a favour tonta. i have worked all day, i came right here after my shift on time. i have my own studies to do too because yes i want to be a nurse. i am smart and i know what i want to do with my life. maybe if you get your head out of your own ass engen, you might too! and you are right this is a waste of time, my time!” and with that you stormed out of the room, beelining for the bus stop and cursing every foul word you knew under the sun toward the girl you’d left behind.

~

if nobody knew you were in a mood from the way you ignored the family group chat trying to make weekend plans about alexia’s game and a barbeque and left everyone on read, it became glaringly obvious with the way the front door slammed after you as you stomped inside, alba glancing up from her phone as you dropped your bag on the table.

you threw open the refrigerator still muttering angrily under your breath and ignoring her greeting toward you, grabbing out a punnet of strawberries and swinging it harshly closed again. 

then without a word you snatched the unopened can of lemonade your sister had in her hand, flopping yourself down on the couch with a huff and another quiet angry grumble, angrily shoving a strawberry in your mouth with a scowl.

alba whistling under her breath spun around on the stool she was sat on, knowing you’d come from your study session and your current tense mood coupled with the fact you were home an hour earlier than expected was all she needed to know it clearly hadn’t gone well.

“lo que pasó?” she appeared in front of you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as you took an aggressive sip of lemonade and shook your head.

“no quiero hablar de ello.” you grumbled, not looking at her and instead flicking through the recordings trying to find the latest episode of your favourite reality tv dating show.

“bien.” alba shrugged, taking a seat beside you and counting down in her head as you continued to button mash the poor remote in your hand. three, two, one…

“dios mío solstråle is such an asshole! first she was late without a reason or an apology, then she ignored me and refused to speak, then she would not tell me what the problem she wanted to study was? then all she did was-” once again you aggressively shrugged your shoulders up and down as your sister hid a smile behind her hand, the older girl for once not wanting to wind you up any further and knowing you needed to let this out as you rambled on and on.

“-she belongs in your class, your niños are smarter than she is at least they know how to speak and listen at the same time! imbécil estúpida. i am not doing that again! alexia can…well she can take a hike!” you decided with a snarl, alba now unable to hide the belt of laughter which left her mouth as you shot her a mean glare.

“where did you learn that saying? take a hike? qué significa eso?” your sister laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“one of your american rom coms?” alba mocked making quotations with her finger as you scowled and shoved her, admittedly having quite the fascination for seemingly silly english speaking love movies which was how you’d gotten much better at speaking and understanding it in the first place.

“do you want some advice hermanita?” alba asked after a few moments of tense silence as you shrugged, a slight snicker leaving your sisters mouth as you clocked the gesture would seem slightly hypocritical given your previous rant.

“no? vale! good luck saying no to ale after you stole half her closet diablillo.” alba held her hands up and walked away leaving you to stew in your anger a little while longer. 

though as you sat and thought and stewed, you realised some advice would not go to waste and of all people alba would probably be the most qualified to provide it.

so with a huff you stood to your feet, alba already hearing your footsteps head toward where she was sat out on the back deck soaking up the last few hours of sun before the door slid open and she glanced up.

“advise me por favor.” you sat down beside her and gestured for her to speak as your sister snatched the lemonade from your hand and took a mouthful, placing the can down out of reach and turning to face you properly.

“have you thought about how this feels for solstråle?” alba questioned at first though you could tell from her tone it was rhetorical and didn’t beg an answer.

“she is in a new country, learning a new language, at a new school, where everyone else is years and years and years ahead. then you come along when you are born here, you speak the language, you have finished school. you find things easy, but solstråle will not and maybe she also does not know what she actually needs help with fresa, only that she is struggling.” alba continued as you slowly nodded to show you were listening.

“now imagine if you had to move to norway, you had to learn norwegian but learn it mostly it in english, when spanish is your native language, and all from a girl who you don’t know with a weird accent who thinks she knows everything. then the entire plan is not even your idea but something you feel you need to do because your hermana suggested you need it, so you already go into it thinking your hermana thinks you cannot do it yourself.” alba spoke slowly as again you nodded, feeling your anger slowly melt away as the cogs of your brain ticked over.

“i do not think i know everything.” you grumbled with a huff, fixed with a look of disbelief as you rolled your eyes, maybe you could come across as a know it all sometimes. “you have a god complex fresita and it is alexia’s fault for always telling you that you are perfect.” alba quipped with a snort, silencing you with a raised eyebrow before she continued

“then this girl with a weird accent asks you lots of questions about norwegian but she asks you in english, that you probably do not know the answer to, and she has a short temper, a hot head, not much patience, and gives up after one time when she is not even trying her best. would you not be maybe a little bit frustrated? confused? embarrassed?” alba questioned again and now you knew she expected an answer as your body seemed to sag.

“sí, sería difícil, then i called her an idiota and just stormed off!” you exhaled heavily, things suddenly now a little more in perspective as you dragged your hands down your face. “está bien tonta, not everyone is built for teaching, especially not hot heads.” alba chuckled patting your knee as you peeked out from behind your hands giving her a look of annoyance.

“is there some advice coming soon puta?” “did you not hear what i just said about patience?”

“espere, mapi is calling me.” you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, still on silent after the work day as you fished it out and clicked accept.

“hola mapi, i do not know what-” you started completely ready for the spaniard to start yelling at you but you were surprised at what followed next.

“fresa have you seen solstråle? her location cut off, she was supposed to already be home and she is not answering her phone. did you see her leave? did she drive?” mapi asked in a tone more serious than you think you’d ever heard, the edge of worry to her voice obvious as you frowned.

“no we finished up early, i did not see her leave i took the bus home about…two hours ago?” you tried to guess, mapi thanking you bluntly and hanging up before you could even say another word.

you tried to brush it off, as a teenager yourself you often made excuses not to have to come home on time, and if you weren’t so scared about driving and had your license you were certain the freedom of a car would be tempting.

but as alba began to try and lay out how you would be better to tackle your next session, you couldn’t shake the weird pin prick of something sitting at the back of your head about the stony norwegian, and just maybe you were a little concerned about if she was okay, and that if god forbid something had happened, was it partially your fault?

~

"fresa valentina putellas segura!" you looked up from your phone and exhaled heavily, wincing at the use of your full name and glaring over your shoulder toward elena who shrugged and sent you a knowing smile, busy on a phone call as you heard the car door close.

"i could have gotten a lift home with elena mami." you mumbled, groaning as another car door shut and both your sisters scrambled out of the car, clearly bickering over something as they pushed and shoved one another in their haste to get over to where you were sat.

"elena is who called me! i had to find out from her that you were at the hospital? hablas en serio?" your mami huffed, smacking the back of your head as you pulled a face and rubbed it with a scowl.

"we should go and yell at the nurses for not calling you sooner mami, she is a baby!" alexia chimed in as she and alba arrived and you closed your eyes and sighed again, looking up to the sky as your face was warmed with sunshine, trying to drown out the three lectures which washed over you from the women stood fussing around you.

"we are not at the hospital, it is a medical centre and i am almost eighteen. once you are over sixteen you can make your own medical decisions, and i am fine." you reminded with another sigh, hearing footsteps and cracking an eye open to watch your mami march away from the bench you were sat on to go and talk to elena who was now off the phone.

"you are still a baby. venga alba, get her crutches." your eldest sister ordered as you sat up properly, sharply smacking the girls hands away as she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you in a glare.

"i can get them myself! i can walk without them but they would not let me leave unless i took them, la doctora era tan dramática." you grumbled in annoyance, only having mildly sprained your ankle and insistent that everyone was over reacting from the moment you fell.

it had been a harmless accident, however it had looked a lot worse than it was.

you'd just finished taking an elderly gentlemens vitals after you'd already collected his blood, the vials labelled and stored properly out back you'd been on your way back to the room to advise the gentlemen could leave, but you'd not been paying attention to the floor.

the clinic currently had a student on for work placement week, a meek and quiet fifteen year old boy who looked terrified anytime someone spoke to him, and with the way he went pale at the sight of blood it had you all wondering just who at his school he'd wronged to end up on placement here of all places.

it would seem he'd somehow dropped and smashed a few vials of someones blood after being asked to carry them back to the storeroom, and while he was busy stumbling through apologies to the nurse he was assigned to shadow for the day, elena, he'd not made any sort of effort to clean up.

so without a warning sign of any kind at least you hadn't looked down to see what you were hurrying toward and before you could blink you'd slipped over with a loud thump and you were covered in someone else’s blood.

of course without knowing the context of what happened the moment your coworkers appeared there had been all sorts of chaos that followed, everyone checking you for wounds and cuts as patients were hurried back into the collection rooms and nobody listened to the student trying to stammer out what had actually happened.

none the less you'd managed to land awkwardly on your ankle and not able to put much pressure on it your boss mateo had insisted you go get it x-rayed to rule it out of being anything serious, shutting down your protests with a firm look and ordering elena to drive you.

so thankfully with spare scrubs always handy you'd been able to change, not able to think of much worse than sitting at the medical centre covered in blood and the looks that would attract when you explained the issue was only your ankle.

you'd managed to charm your way out of anyone at work calling your mami, assuring she would be busy at her own job with her phone in her locker, and you'd just call one of your sisters once you knew what was wrong not wanting to panic anyone without a need.

however elena knowing you all too well knew you'd try to keep this to yourself and as you were being x-rayed it seemed she had slyly called eli to inform her of what had happened. which of course in your family may as well have been a bat signal for everyone to panic and over-react, exactly what you'd wanted to avoid in the first place.

"put your arms around my neck pequeña." alexia instructed as you gave her a look of disbelief. "alexia. eres sordo? i said i can walk myself!" you huffed, trying to stand up as alba pushed you back down onto the bench, snatching your crutches and she was off toward the car.

"cuídate chica, i will let mateo know what happened and i am sure he will give you the rest of the week off to recover. after all we have the student to help out!" elena appeared and squeezed your shoulder, grinning at the glare you gave her as she winked and hurried away to her own car before you could say a word, eli calling out another thank you as she did.

"and you will be taking the time off fresa." your mami’s gaze shifted to you and warned sharply as you groaned, already over all of the fussing yet you knew it had barely begun.

"estoy bien! i can work in reception and sit at the front desk, do admin and stay off my ankle and-" you tried to argue, falling silent at the fierce looks sent your way both by eli and alexia, crossing your arms and scowling.

"sí, me tomaré tiempo libre." you begrudgingly agreed with a sigh, eli nodding happily before she hurried off into the medical centre ignoring your yells after her that you already had everything you needed.

"derecha hermanita, arms around my neck." alexia repeated herself expectantly as she leaned down a little closer and once more you scoffed. "i can walk! aléjate de mí." you growled, trying to stand and grunting as again you were pushed back down.

"alexia!" "you are not walking to the car." "vale, i will sleep on this bench then." you puffed out stubbornly with a shake of your head.

"deja de ser idiota! you can put your arms around my neck and i will carry you, or i will pick you up over my shoulder como un bebé pequeño." your sister threatened seriously and judging by the look on her face you knew she was far from joking.

so mumbling about how embarrassing this was you did as she requested, knowing the alternative was worse, alexias arms wrapping around you as you were picked up and off the bench, were grateful there weren't many people around to see this as your sister carried you fireman style to the car.

"esto es ridículo." you muttered bitterly, alexia going as far as to do your seat belt up for you as alba sat in the front and your mami reappeared, a copy of your x-ray and some other papers in hand as alexia sat in the passenger seat fussing over you and you squeezed your eyes closed.

this was going to be far more painful than your ankle was.

~

"por el amor de dios it is a sprain! a mild sprain! not a break, or a fracture, or a-" but your protests fell on deaf ears as alexia lowered you down onto the sofa and ignored you, chattering away to alba about everything they assumed you needed.

you’d already had to fight them off not to shower and dress you like a child when you’d returned home, both girls settling for hovering right outside the bathroom door like guard dogs.

with eli’s help you utilised the shower chair she’d refused to touch throughout her own recovery to take the pressure off your ankle, sighing in relief as you’d washed the days events off of you.

"elevate and ice!" your mami called out from the kitchen where she was already prepping things for lunch, alba tossing alexia an ice pack, a tea towel already slung over your eldest sisters shoulder as your jaw clenched.

you hissed as alexia grabbed your ankle, lifting your leg to slide a pillow beneath and giving you a look. "mild?" she scoffed as you glared and grumbled something under your breath about how even mild sprains hurt when someones nails dig into them.

"mild, read the papers tonta! mami has about four copies." you muttered with a roll of your eyes, wincing as alexia wrapped a tea towel around your ankle to secure the ice pack to it, apologising quietly as she adjusted your ankle to sit comfortably on the pillow it was propped on.

“this is like when diablillo broke her toe.” alba chuckled at the memory, alexia trying to hide a wince as your eyes locked in on her and narrowed into a glare. “and whose fault was that?”

eli had been enjoying a couple of hours of peace, alba not yet home from school, alexia at training and a much younger you dead asleep in bed after a psychology appointment, pulled out of school at lunch time to attend.

to try and take your mind off of the contents of the appointment, which given you were five years old and learning what grief was in the wake of your papi’s passing were always emotionally taxing, eli had taken you grocery shopping.

big mistake.

you’d always been a very confident, outgoing and sure of yourself child, having to be in order to keep up with your big loud family and especially your strong willed sisters. so it was no surprise that the moment eli pulled out her list you were taking it off of her and charging away.

but you weren’t good at following the list so nearly every second thing you tossed into the cart, your mami took out and put back, sighing at your protests and attempts to rationalise the purchase, list taken out of your possession and an agreement made if you wouldn’t sit in the cart you had to have a hand on it at all times.

but the other part of that agreement, granted you stuck to it which was becoming increasingly hard given everything you wanted was just out of reach with how eli strategically parked the cart in each aisle, was that at the end of it you could choose something as a reward.

your mami already knew what your choice would be so it was no surprise when finally as everything was ticked off the list and you were given the green light you raced right to the produce section, eli lifting you up onto her hip so you could properly survey the punnets and punnets of strawberries in front of you.

however when almost twenty minutes later when you still hadn’t made a choice your mami was starting to lose patience, gently trying to hurry you along as she watched you carefully survey each and every strawberry with narrowed eyes.

finally, one was chosen, and it had seemed the grocery trip coupled with your appointment earlier in the afternoon had wiped you out, falling asleep in the car on the way home as your mami slowly woke you, hand in hers and leading you to your bedroom where you crashed out right on top of the covers, red tightly in hand.

but now a couple of hours later it seemed eli’s peace was about to end as alba came tearing in the door, chattering away on her phone and your mami’s eyes rolled watching her once neatly organised kitchen become anything but as your hormone filled teenage sister piled a plate high with some post school fuel.

alexia was next, flying through the door and bringing jenni with her of course, their chattering filling the house as alba spoke louder in return on the phone, retreating to her room with a slam of her door as the noise jolted you awake.

your mami shook her head, watching your sister and her girlfriend rummage through the refrigerator just as alba had done moments ago, the once fully stocked shelves already beginning to clear out in just a matter of a few minutes.

everyone greeting eli the woman was grateful she was still able to sit and read her book, both your sisters old enough not to need her attention the way you did, but moving to the living room and with her head buried in literature she missed alexia grab out your specially selected strawberries.

however it was the very first thing you noticed as you tiredly padded into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes and blinking to try and clear them of sleep, jenni noticing you first with a grin and bending down to open her arms for a hug. you were more than ready to wander into them however before you could take another step alexia bit into a strawberry and you gasped, suddenly wide awake.

“ale those are mine! volver a ponerlos!” you demanded angrily, stomping on over as your sister chuckled and shook her head, jenni standing again with a defeated sigh that you’d rejected her hug.

“you do not own all the fresones in this house monstruito.” alexia grinned, biting into another one just to wind you up as you huffed and glared up at her, she was always at her most annoying after she’d trained and was full of endorphins as your mami tried to explain to you.

“i own those! they are mine i bought them today at the market with mami!” you tried to explain, attempting to climb up onto the counter to grab them but your little feet wouldn’t grip onto the stone walls of the counter as you watched on uselessly as now jenni took a bite.

“oh do you want one?” alexia smirked, one hand pressed to your forehead holding you off as she held a strawberry down to you but just out of reach, grinning as you reached for it with frustrated little grunts.

alexia nodded for jenni to tip out the rest of the punnet into a small bowl on the counter, grabbing the seemingly empty container they’d once been in and letting you go, putting what appeared to be the last strawberry into her mouth with a content sigh.

“aquí monstruito.” your sister handed you the empty container as your jaw dropped and you looked up at her in disbelief, a smug smile on the older girls face as jenni nudged her in the back that maybe this was taking the teasing a little too far.

letting out a war cry you charged at her but alexia already anticipated the attack, easily holding you off again with a hand covering your face, words muffled against her palm as your arms swung trying to connect with any part of her body.

but when that didn’t work you resorted to plan b, winding your leg up and kicking at her as hard as you could, your foot bouncing off of her bare shin and you felt something crack, stopping your movement all together as alexia’s grin was wiped away watching your face pale.

“hey hey hey hermanita-” but right as she squatted down to try and check in you let out a blood curdling scream, falling to the ground and holding your foot as suddenly the kitchen was full of people, everyone fussing over you as you pushed both of your sisters away, only accepting eli’s arms which scooped you up and sat you on the counter.

“no! te odio!” you screamed at alexia who tried to move in to hug you, the eighteen year old flinching away as if she’d been burned, alba moving in instead as you pushed your face into her stomach and gripped her school shirt in your hands as eli ever so gently moved your leg, dodging the way it kicked out in reflex.

“oh mi nena, i think you might have broken your big toe.”

safe to say your sisters both learned a very valuable lesson about how far to take things when pushing you around and teasing you that day, alexia especially.

"do you not have anything else better to do than fuss and annoy me capitana?" you grumbled sarcastically, eyes rolling yet again as your sister fluffed and prepped the cushions behind your back now, karate chopping them making you snicker with slight amusement at the concentration on her face as she did so.

"tiene razón mija, look at the time you should go, you have that meeting!" eli called out in agreement as alexia hummed. "and don't you have niños to dumb down?" you leaned back and looked up at your middle sister who was stood behind the couches, a brush and tie in hand as she grabbed your hair and started to scrape it up into a bun despite the fact your arms were fine and you could easily do it yourself.

"alba!" you yelped as the flat side of the brush smacked against your forehead. "don't hit her puta she's hurt!" alexia reached over and shoved the younger girl who rolled her eyes and tilted your head back to kiss your forehead in a silent apology as you made an indignant huff and jerked away from her.

"student free day." alexia explained on alba's behalf, seemingly satisfied with how she'd smacked and poked the cushions into order behind you, and you had to admit you were quite comfortable.

"if you need anything you tell mami or alba, do not get up!" your sister warned sternly, giving you the firm captains look you knew struck fear into her teammates but did nothing much for you as you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgement.

"fresa valentina-" "bien i will not move! váyase and stop with the middle name." you groaned shooing your hands for her to leave. "te quiero, do not do anything stupid!" she warned shoving your head to the side as you mocked her under your breath.

"more like anything else stupid." alba chimed in from the kitchen, your middle finger popping up at her as your mami clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"what?" you sighed as still alexia stayed standing in front of you expectantly. "i am not saying it back." you turned on the tv with a shrug, browsing for what to watch as your sister huffed and finally moved out of the way.

overhearing alexia tell eli that she and olga would be back for dinner you groaned, knowing everyone would be fussing over you despite the fact you were fine.

“can olga come and you stay home? your home.” you suggested, your mami clicking her tongue again with a huff as now alexia flipped you off making you grin and return the gesture. 

“dibujar!” alba cried out as she joined in, now all three of you using both your hands to flip one another off with matching grins as eli sighed, having flashbacks to when you were all much younger.

“basta de esto! I raised you three better than this.” your mami smacked a wooden spoon against the counter as all three of you flinched at the memories which came with the sound and immediately dropped your hands as the shorter women nodded, quite pleased that still worked as alexia yelled another goodbye and finally made her way out.

~

“elena you are not taking me to my bedroom, i’m fine.” you huffed a couple days later, your sisters and mami both having been hovering relentlessly all week which was more than starting to grate on you, not even allowed to go and have some peace and quiet in your own room, banished to the sofa like a prisoner all day everyday where someone could have eyes on you at all times.

you knew your mami was perhaps getting the most from this, and though she would never admit it you could tell that after so long of her being the one who was being fussed over and watched like a hawk it was both a relief and a joy for that attention to be diverted elsewhere. 

a bonus that it so happened to be you, the one who was perhaps most guilty of fussing over her since she left hospital given you were the last of your sisters still living at home.

“let me just help you walk there, since you refuse to use the crutches.” elena rolled her eyes, nodding at the crutches in her hand which indeed you’d not touched, insistent that you could walk albeit with a small limp.

it had taken a lot of begging and pleading but with it being one of your friends birthdays you’d been invited out to dinner with them, eli eventually agreeing you could go so long as you promised to let her know when you were on your way back.

you’d done that, sending her a text message as you left the restaurant with elena, but when you hadn’t heard back and given it was nearly eleven thirty at night, you assumed she’d likely fallen asleep.

“because I do not need them, and I do not need help!” you huffed, elena giving up with a sigh and carefully placing your crutches just inside by the front door, hugging you goodbye with a teasing donkey noise, everyone having teased you were ‘stubborn as an ass’ all night as you bit back a smile and gave her a sarcastic wave goodbye.

closing the door after her you exhaled in relief as with your mami seemingly asleep and your sisters at their own homes you finally had a moment of peace to yourself without someone asking if you needed anything, fixing a cushion, getting more ice, checking the swelling.

but still, despite the peace nature called and with a sigh you started to hobble your way to the bathroom, the swelling having gone down but the ankle itself still quite tender despite the fact it could bare a lot more weight now. 

your eyes flickered momentarily toward the crutches sitting abandoned just an arms length away, knowing really you should use them as it would make this whole process a lot faster. however your friends weren’t wrong you were stubborn, and determined to prove even just to yourself that this was only a mild sprain and you were getting better you began an arduous journey toward the bathroom.

you were doing okay at first, grabbing onto things and allowing your body to lean on your dominant foot, able to get all the way to the bathroom all on your own, sitting down on the toilet with a relieved exhale.

but it was getting up that suddenly the situation drastically changed.

when you’d showered earlier you’d left your wet towel on the ground, nothing unusual as given it was only you and eli living here now and she had her own bathroom there was no one to complain about it.

however too focused on hobbling over to the sink you’d failed to notice, and if anything this whole week had just been one huge life lesson to learn to look down a little more often, and with a blink you felt yourself slip, head hitting the ground and back thumping against the tile floor.

but all you were focused on was the way you felt your ankle go snap, pain shooting up your leg as if it was on fire as you groaned loudly, trying to sit up but grunting and collapsing back to the ground.

“mami? mami? mami!” you tried to yell out through gritted teeth, calling out a few more times and groaning as the pain worsened and the room began to spin a little. feeling something digging into your hip you managed to pull your phone out with a hiss, yelling out again for eli but not hearing anything.

so knowing really there wasn’t anything else you could do you clicked on the contact for the one person you thought might answer if you called. 

your heartbeat sounding in your ears and vision a little blurred you hesitated, flashbacks of all the calls you’d made to her where she hadn’t answered, stomach churning with a mix of nausea, worry and rejection, questioning if maybe you were wrong and she wouldn’t answer, leaving you alone again.

but eventually the pain won out and you clicked call, sighing with a grimace as the dial tone sounded once, twice, three times, four times and- 

“hola? pequeña? estás bien?” “ale? por favour por favor i need help, hermana i need you!”