krystalyn7171

[krystalyn7171]

Trip to Russia

For @horrormovielover2000

It would be early morning and what Bob didn't tell his wife was that he got a flight to Nova Scotia. His wife Y/n and their daughter would still be sound asleep as he left them to go and get some land up in Russia to life there, to bring his family up there as well. After he was long gone and on his flight, Y/n would wake up to find him gone with no note or anything like that. She would try his cell phone but no answer. Sighing, she would give up for the time being and check up on their daughter Raisa. She'd take her out of the crib and carry her to get her bottle ready with one hand a thing she mastered long ago when Bob was working a lot. Once the bottle was prepared, she began to feed her. All throughout the day Y/n would be worried when Bob never once checked on them, or even explained himself for why he left so suddenly.

Nothing all day, nothing, she would assume the worst if he didn't get a hold of her tomorrow. After she had put little Raisia to bed and went to bed herself, she would lay down, falling asleep slowly, her mind still wondering about Bob.

For what would seem like a few hours, she'd wake up to her phone ringing next to her, the buzzing mixing in the ringtone. Pulling it up to her face, she would immediately see that it would be Bob, answering it quickly, she would say quietly but loudly, “What is wrong with you disappearing like that?!”

“I had to babe, I had to do this.”

“Do what?! Abandon me and your daughter??” she exclaimed to him, a rough tone to her voice.

“I have land for us, for us to start a new life in Russia I have a new life waiting for us.”

She would sit up in bed, sighing and rubbing her free hand upon her tired face, “You did all this to tell me you had property up there??” She couldn't believe this at all, but she kind of had to go with it.

“How are we going to sell our house here when this is so sudden??” she asked him.

“I have it all figured out baby, all figured out, I just need you to get Raina, pack essentials, ticket already purchased for you and Raina to fly out, I will pick you two up at the airport.

After that conversation and she packed up things for her and Raina, they would fly out, the flight a good several hours. They would arrive some time in the afternoon in Russia, Bob there to pick them up the moment they arrived.

“Now where did you get the money to buy this land??” Y/n would ask him.

“I had land I sold and once we sell the house in the US, we will have more money.” he smiled and led them out and to a van that would take them there after they got their luggage.

“Now care to elaborate on who is going to pay for the mortgage and all of that??” she asked as Raisa would be still held by Y/n being led to the van. Once in it, they would drive off.”

Once there, Bob didn't answer her question at all, not wanting to discuss anything in front of the driver. When they had been dropped off, Bob would soon start to answer her questions.

“Raisia is going to.”

“Bob, love of my life, how is she going to do that, when she is just a toddler hmmm?? You are out of your mind.”

“Me?? Out of my mind??”

“She's just a toddler, we are the ones with the money Bob, we are her parents and therefore we should be the ones doing this, not her, she doesn't understand at all of what needs to be done with money.”

He would just roll his eyes and led them up to a decent sized house in front of them.”Here we are.” he led them inside.

They would be inside,it a nice single story house, furniture already inside it. Y/n would see a crib and proceeded to put her in it and a little toy before heading back to Bob to talk to him.

“Bob, I love you and all, but this is just crazy!! What made you think about this in the first place before deciding out of nowhere that we should uproot our lives to come here.”

“Look, you don't have to try and lecture me about it.” he sighed deeply and hung his head.

“Who said I was lecturing you?! You are the one who did this! Y?n asked as he hug his head, feeling her demeanor change from calm to stern, “Once you explain your self, I am not going to be so easily run to you for anything right now, I can't tell you how deeply upset I am, I had to tell work I couldn't come in!!”

“Look, I know this is crazy, but you have to work with me!” he kind of yelled at her, Y/n is taken aback like this and so where ready for this.

“Work with you?? How?? I have to find a new job here!!” And I would have to learn their language and on top of that teach it to Raisa.”

Bob slams his fist against the wall, getting irritated with Y/n, “Well, you are just going to have to deal with it.” he snaps, towering over her before walking off.

Y/n would go and be with little Raisa, making sure she was okay after not being too far from the fight between them.

Y/n would get a slow look at the rest of the house, getting the layout of it. Little Raisa would be taking her nap while this happened, but Y/n would check on her every so often.

It would be only a matter of time before Y/n and Bob would reach the kitchen as she would be putting away new glassware and silverware.

“Have you cooled down on what happened earlier??” Bob asked Y/n while she put things away.

“Have I Bob?? I'm still upset that you did all this without telling or consulting with me first!?” she said a bit loudly to get her point across to him.

“Oh come on, don't start this!” he snapped back, slamming his fist on the counter next to him, not taking any of what she was throwing his way.

“You are the one that vanished and called a few days later to tell me to uproot our lives to live over here!! Think about the change this is for Raisa??”

“She'll get used to it.”

“Get used to it?? Usually you get up, hold her and feed her first thing when you get up before work. You didn't do that, you think that was okay??”

“It was a few days ago, can we please just stop this??” he slammed his fist on the counter again, clearly his voice showing signs of irritation, “And besides, we are not even going to be here for that long.”

“When were you going to tell me that??” she set a glass down and squeezed her hands tightly at her frustration.

He froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard by her words, his eyes blown wide now, as if the argument ran through his head and he just couldn't take it anymore, “I did this for us!!! And this is the thanks I get?!”

In the living area Raisa would wake up to her father yelling, rubbing her face, sniffling a bit. As the argument escalated, she would start crying, wanting mommy. Y/n would hear Raisa crying and put a hand up to him, “Enough!! You just woke her up and now she's crying!!”

“How is this my fault?? You started arguing with me!”

“For goodness sake, just stop, I have to go calm our daughter down.”

Y/n would slide past Bob and to the living room to where Raisa was and picked her up, bouncing her, resting her head on her shoulder, “Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay sweetheart.”

From a distance, Bob would be watching this, still running through his head would be the argument from earlier, muttering, “This isn't over.” he then would disappear and go off to do his own thing.

After she had calmed down Raisa, she would feed her and play with her for a bit, all the while Bob stewed in his own anger towards the situation. When it came to bedtime, Y/n would read to little Raisa, and would look up at her mother, pointing to the door where Bob stood, “Dada,:

“Yes, that is dada.” she said, smiling a little at her reaction to Bob.

He'd let off a smile, playing along, but still upset from earlier, wanting to be calm in front of their daughter. Wanting to make up for disappearing on them that day, he would walk up and pick her up, Raisa saying, “Dada.” as he picked her up.

She would rest her head on his shoulder, his arms holding her against his chest, rubbing and bouncing her gently in his arms. All the while, Y/n would pause on reading and let Raisa be held by her father for a while. Little Raisa would yawn after about fifteen minutes, Bob kissing her head and setting her down in her crib. He'd tuck her in and look up at Y/n before disappearing down the hall. She would read to their daughter till she fell right asleep, Y/n kissing her head before heading out to talk to Bob some more.

By the time she came out and to where he was, he was already drinking a bottle of vodka, back to her. She rolls her eyes and walks around him to face him, “You going to resort to drinking already??”

“So what??” he grumbles and takes another swig from the big bottle.

Sighing, she gets a glass of water, “Because when things don't go your way and you don't like what anyone says, you resort to drinking.”

He slams the bottle down and growls at her, then yelling, “I don't need your permission to do anything!!”

Y/n would flinch at him yelling and step back a bit, “Don't raise your voice to me!” she snapped back.

“Or what??” he asked with a snarky tone in his voice, “You are not the violent type Y/n, never was, nor am I so don't pressure me.”

“Pressure you?? You think I am pressuring you?? I think it's the complete opposite. You just never seem to let anything go, hence you keep bringing up our argument from earlier.”

“Because you always do that!!”

“No I don't!! You left us to do all this!! How do you think I felt when I woke up and you were completely gone and didn't answer my texts or calls?!”

“I was busy!!” he yells, taking another swig of alcohol.

“Too busy to call me?!” She slammed her own fist on the counter, glaring at him, to kiss our daughter on the head before you left?! You didn't think about that??”

“Enough!!! You are so controlling!!”

“See, that's the alcohol talking, I never control what you do!! I worry about you!”

He closed the bottle on the lid, sighing and running his fingers across his face, groaning and pushing the bottle away, some vodka still left in it. He didn't bother even sobering up any, he'd grab his keys and head on out.

She sighed and finished her water, shaking her head at his words, how he accused her of so much that she didn't do. Finishing up with the dishes, she would then go check on Raisa.

All the while Bob would hop in his truck and turn over the engine, the truck revving to life.

He'd pull out of the small driveway and headed on out. A song would be blaring from the stereo, I'm So Sick by Flyleaf.”

Off he would drive, to clear his head, clear all bits of that argument in his head and off somewhere to be away for a bit.

[krystalyn7171]

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[krystalyn7171]

reblog if it's okay for your mutuals to message you and create an actual friendship, not just interactions

[krystalyn7171]

Golden [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds (Sentry) x fem!reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob loves you, but he'd never dare say it. Unfortunately, all these repressed feelings fuel Sentry, who decides to do something once and for all.

masterlist

The house was silent, broken only by the soft murmur of music coming from the cell phone by the sink. A slow, nostalgic piano floated between the shelves as if trying not to disturb anyone. You were barefoot, already in your pajamas—a faded thigh-length T-shirt and athletic shorts—with your hair tied haphazardly and a wooden spoon in your hand. You were making yourself something simple for dinner, not really hungry, as if it were a requirement your body had to fulfill.

Outside, the night hung heavy on the windows, thick and starless. Even though it was cold, your thick socks helped you bear it.

After a while, you had company in the kitchen. You didn't see the person, of course, but you could strangely feel their presence as if the entire room had been impregnated with that essence. The music continued to play, but it no longer filled the space; now it seemed like a distant echo, unable to compete with the sudden density of the air.

Then you felt it: the faint creak of wood under their weight as they rested an arm on the bar, right next to you. They didn't say anything at first; they just stood there, too close, so motionless that for a second you thought you'd imagined it. The warmth emanating from their body contrasted with the cold outside, and the scent—clean, almost electric—confirmed that you weren't alone.

“Hey,” you heard close to your ear, barely above a whisper.

Their voice made you turn your head immediately. You recognized him instantly, of course you did. It was Bob. His body, his silhouette… but not his posture. He was more upright, as if he weighed less. More relaxed. And he was looking at you. Not shyly, not as if he were waiting for your permission, but as if he already knew he was welcome.

What disconcerted you most was the color of his eyes. They shone a liquid gold, soft but impossible to ignore, as if something very ancient and powerful had peeked out from beneath his skin. The proximity made you notice them immediately.

“Bob...” you said softly, unsure whether to ask or affirm. You still held the spoon tightly. The aroma of dinner still wafted through the air, but everything else had stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“I went out to get a glass of water and found you here. That's all.”

“Your… your hair,” you stammered, barely reaching out to stroke a strand of hair, “what did you do to it?”

It was blonde, but not that horrible fake yellow shade Valentina had dyed it a few months ago. This time, his hair looked like it had been kissed by the sun, a color so golden it resembled one of those cherubs portrayed in old paintings. You could also swear it looked a few inches longer than you remembered.

“Don’t you like it?” he exclaimed. The question didn’t sound uncertain, as it should have, but rather amused. “I think it suits me.”

“Yes, you look… you look great, but why did you do it?”

He didn't respond immediately. His attention shifted to what you were cooking, with an almost unusual interest. He leaned a little closer over the counter, just enough to better observe the contents of the pot without invading your space too much... although you felt the warmth of his proximity extending like an invisible line between the two of you.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, as if the question were more intimate than it should be.

“Nothing, just… something quick for dinner,” you replied, not quite looking at him. You tried hard to sound casual, even though you knew your cheeks had heated a little without permission.

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on your hands as you rummaged. He didn't talk like Bob. He didn't move like Bob. And yet, there he was, standing next to you, wearing those wrinkled plaid pajama pants and a T-shirt you'd seen on him before at the back of his closet; the cover of Radiohead's single, Creep, printed on black. Everything was recognizable, but not familiar.

Suddenly, his hand slowly reached out to take a pinch of what you'd left on the cutting board and brought it to his mouth, still looking at you. He did so with disconcerting ease, as if you always shared these kinds of moments.

“Smells good,” he murmured, and for a second, the way he said it didn’t seem to refer to food.

You looked at him, still trying to understand what part of him that was. Because if that was Bob… why did he make you feel like you were a fixed point in his orbit?

“Does your head hurt?” you asked, still unsure. Your voice sounded different, as if it didn't quite come from you.

"No"

"Are you okay?"

A giggle escaped his lips.

“I am,” he assured you. Prompted by your inquisitive eyes, he added, “Don’t worry. You know me, you’ve seen me before.”

The way he spoke to you made you believe he wasn't your friend you were chatting with. He knew you, yes, but he was behaving very differently than usual. The realization hit you suddenly.

“Sentry?”

The name left your lips like a crack in the air. And although he didn't flinch or look away, you saw that faint flicker of acceptance in his eyes. As if you'd finally said what he'd been waiting for since he'd entered the room.

“I was hoping you’d notice sooner,” he said calmly, though not reproachfully.

He didn't sound proud. He didn't sound embarrassed. Just… confident. A confidence that Bob didn't know existed, but was natural to him.

“You weren’t supposed to come out,” you murmured, barely audible, as if naming the abnormality could reverse it. “Bob still doesn’t know how to control you.”

He shrugged with an almost elegant fluidity.

“I don’t need him to control me,” she replied immediately. “I’m not dangerous. In fact, it turns out I'm everything he wants to be."

You remained silent for a second, watching him intently. You didn't know if it was wise to call someone else, walk away, or try to figure out what had brought him to light.

“Don’t fear me,” he continued, as if he had read the doubt in your eyes. “I would never hurt you.”

“Why are you here?” you mumbled. Your back was to the counter, and he was standing in front of you, watching you. “Is Bob okay?”

“Of course,” he smiled at you. His gaze made you feel nervous. “It’s just… he was daydreaming about you. So I thought I’d intervene.”

You froze. When you finally managed to stammer out a response, you asked him to explain what he was talking about.

“I just want to see you up close. He’s watching you the whole time like he’s afraid of breaking you.”

The phrase—and the way he said it—confused you. Why would he have had to show up to get a close look at you? What did that even mean?

Why did it have to be him and not Bob?

“You’re his constant thought, did you know that?” he murmured calmly. “For better or for worse.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He always worries about you. He wants to be good for you, to improve, to leave behind those weaknesses that torment him. But everything he keeps quiet when he sees you walk by, when you laugh near him, when you touch him… he throws it all at me.”

His voice didn't rise in pitch. It wasn't demanding. It didn't crack. But there was an undercurrent, a weariness so deep it reached your chest.

“And honestly, I feel like it kills me a little more every day.

“I can’t understand you,” you faltered. “Do you mean that he-you are… in love with me?”

A stifled laugh was heard in his throat.

“Obsessed, that's the term I'd give it. But yes, let's say so.”

Sentry didn't look at you like someone expecting a reaction. He didn't seem to be looking for shock value. He was just... saying it. As if saying it out loud would take a weight off his shoulders.

You feared you were delirious. The moment was so sudden and unexpected that it was the only explanation that made sense to you.

“I just thought it was time to let you know,” Sentry continued. “Because he won’t. At least not anytime soon.”

He took a step closer, slow, careful, but not hesitant. His movements were confident, as if he wasn't afraid of rejection, but of breaking something delicate.

His fingers brushed the edge of the bar, right where you'd placed the spoon seconds before. He didn't pick it up. He just rested his fingertips there, as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.

Then he reached out with his other hand toward you, very slowly, and with the backs of his fingers, he barely caressed your cheek. It wasn't an invasive caress. It was… careful. Too careful, as if he feared that you, too, were part of the same fracture he was carrying.

His touch was warm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice lower. More intimate. “You’re sweet. Attentive. I understand why he’s going crazy for you.”

And you wanted to say something, anything. But his presence weighed more than your thoughts. You didn't know if it was the tone or the content of his words, but something inside you tensed.

You didn't back down. You didn't touch him either. But your gaze dropped to his hand, still suspended in the air, as if you'd suddenly realized the moment had crossed an invisible line.

He noticed it. Of course he noticed it.

“But you’re not ready,” he said, without annoyance.

He didn't sound disappointed, or impatient. He said it as a logical conclusion. An observation. He slowly withdrew his hand, but didn't move away. He just looked down, as if the gesture of touching you had been more for him than for you.

You were in shock, trying to understand what was happening and waiting for his next move.

“I’m not asking you for anything,” he added after a moment. “I didn’t even come looking for anything. I just needed you to see me. To know that I exist beyond fear.”

Your throat closed a little, and your voice barely held as you replied:

“I… don’t know what to tell you.”

Sentry nodded, once, without drama. His golden eyes softened slightly, though the glow remained, pulsing, like a subtle warning that this form of him wasn't human. Not quite.

“You don’t need to say anything. Not now.” For a second, he was silent. “Sometimes Bob stares at the door for hours, wondering if you’ll ever show up.”

The phrase disarmed you more than you expected. You knew him. Not in words, but in actions. In the way Bob avoided eye contact when you greeted him. In the way he seemed to go silent when you sat down near him. In the way he always had something in his hands to pretend he was busy.

Sentry still watched you, patient. Almost serene.

“And all this stuff you’re saying… Does he feel it? Don’t you?”

“Both,” he explained softly. “But if you’re wondering who wants you more, then it would be me.”

You swallowed, looking at him with some surprise. You hadn't asked that, but he'd thought it prudent to mention it. He could have told you he cared or sought your closeness, but no. He said he wanted you.

“Is that why you came looking for me?”

Your voice was a whisper, gently caressing his ears. You no longer seemed scared, but curious, and that stirred something else in the God who watched you intently.

Sentry didn't answer immediately. He lowered his gaze for a moment, as if your question was too intimate even for him. And when he came back from his thoughts, his eyes had not lost their golden glow, but his expression had softened.

“I only came because… I couldn’t stay without doing it.”

His fingers closed in a slight gesture, as if he had wanted to touch you again and held back at the last second.

“Do you know what it feels like to carry something inside that doesn’t quite belong to you?” he asked, not looking at you directly. “A memory. A longing. An image repeated over and over again. And you didn’t create it, you didn’t dream it, but you feel it. It pulls you in. It transforms you.”

You looked at him silently, recognizing in his words not only the intensity of his existence, but the fragility behind it. As if he couldn't sustain himself for long away from Bob's shadow.

“You’re in him,” he continued. “In all his days. In every damn attempt to ignore you. In every night he forces himself not to knock on your room. In all those moments when he has to hold back as if your gaze doesn’t completely disarm him.”

The intensity of his voice didn't rise, but it became thicker. More tangible.

“I don't have their filters,” he admitted, “nor their fears. And if I'm here, it's because Bob wanted it so badly… that I didn't know how to stay silent anymore.”

It wasn't a confession, not quite. It was more like an inevitable outburst. And he was still there, so close, it was hard to think.

“I don’t know if this is real… or if I’m just feeling what you need me to feel.”

“It's very real”

His silence wasn't empty. It was the suppressed sound of something that wanted to explode but didn't dare. The gold in his eyes flickered like a flame about to go out... or burn out completely.

You felt it. Not for what he did, but for what he didn't do.

The way his eyes dropped to your mouth a second longer than necessary. The slight tremble in his breath as he stared at you without blinking. The way his body tilted, barely perceptible, as if the space between you was an obstacle eating him away from the inside.

He didn't touch you. He didn't say anything. But the desire was there, suspended between you both, as clear as the heat between two bodies that aren't touching.

And you, for the first time, didn't back down.

Your lips parted, not in invitation, but in surprise. There was something reverent about him. As if he were approaching you not as a man, not even as a god, but as an echo. Like someone who had been sensing you for too long in another skin, in another mind, in another contained love.

He knew it then. What he saw in your eyes. Not fear, not rejection. Just the certainty that if he did it, something would change forever. In you. In Bob.

Sentry didn't move anymore.

His lips curved into a small, sad smile. One of those that doesn't seek comfort, but acceptance.

“Now that you know… Will you wait for him? Until he’s ready?”

You nodded, out of inertia. The proximity made you feel dizzy, as if his energy were consuming you entirely, and the only thing left in you was that desire for him to finish what he started.

His beauty was nothing like Bob's. He was shy, discreet, cautious in his gestures. Sentry forced you to look at him. Not by imposition, but by nature. Because you couldn't help it. There was something about him that overwhelmed your senses, something that seemed made of light and gravity, and all of it pushed you to the edge of something you couldn't name.

There was no touch. No unnecessary words. Just that suspended instant in which your whole body understood that he could have touched you, and you would have allowed it. Not because he demanded it, but because there was something in you that had already given in without you realizing it.

You didn't know if it was the way he looked at you or how he seemed to be contained within himself, as if the universe were splitting open in his chest, but for a moment you stopped thinking.

You contemplated him as one contemplates something sacred. Not as one desires, but as one recognizes.

And that's where you truly felt it: divinity in its purest form. Not that of miracles or light, but that of the abyss. Of contained fire.

“I’ll go,” he exhaled. He allowed himself to caress your face one last time. “I don’t want Bob to lose his temper. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean. To both of us.”

He took a step back, and you instantly missed his warmth. You found a certain acceptance in his eyes, as if he knew his time had come to an end. It felt as if that version of himself couldn't last much longer in your presence without fading away.

“Can I ask you something?”

"Yeah?"

“Don’t hate him if he doesn’t remember tomorrow,” he said softly. You knew he was referring to Bob. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it. It’s that he can’t handle it.”

And with that last truth, he left.

There were no lights, no sounds. Only the faint emptiness left behind by an intense presence as it retreats. And you, standing in the kitchen, dinner cooling on the stove and your heart beating too close to your throat, realized that something inside you had just changed, too.

You didn't know if everything would be back to normal the next day.

But you knew, with absolute certainty, that you hadn't imagined it.

Although a part of you—the most rational, the most scared—would like to believe that it had all been a dream, a delusion, a fantasy brought on by tiredness or your own badly buried feelings.

Because in the end… was it Sentry who came to you?

Or Bob, in a form that even he doesn't understand?

You didn't know. And you probably never would. But the echo of his voice, the warmth of his presence, the weight of that gaze... that was real.

You couldn't tell anyone. Not because they wouldn't believe you, but because there was no way to explain it without breaking them, without exposing them to criticism. And because, at the same time, you were afraid it might break you a little too.

It had to become a secret. There was no other alternative.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[krystalyn7171]

LEWIS PULLMAN as BEN MEARS SALEM'S LOT (2024) | dir. Gary Dauberman

[krystalyn7171]

I'm so normal about Lewis Pullman

[krystalyn7171]

Peachy

Lewis Pullman x Fem!Reader

The backyard is warm and still — heavy with that kind of thick, slow heat that makes everything feel like it’s moving through honey. A half-empty pack of Solo cups is slumped beside the porch steps. There’s a faint crackle of music drifting from inside the house — some old indie vinyl Lewis put on just after breakfast.

You’re outside in your favorite sundress — loose, soft, floral — one that flutters around your thighs when the breeze hits just right. You’re crouched low over a row of coolers, sleeves of soda and bottled water scattered around you, separating everything into four color-coded bins: juice boxes in the blue one, soda in red, water in green, and the beer tucked away in white — out of reach of curious little hands.

You’re humming to yourself as you work, fingertips dusted with condensation from the ice bags you just cracked open.

You don’t hear Lewis come outside.

You feel him first — a flicker of his shadow on the grass, the familiar sound of his sneakers scraping over the porch planks — and then: two warm hands slide over your hips, a solid body pressing flush behind you.

And then his hips roll against yours.

You gasp — half surprise, half laugh — and instinctively press back into him just a little. He groans into your neck, soft and desperate.

YOU

(teasing, breathy)

Oh? Needy?

LEWIS

So fucking needy I can’t even see straight.

His voice is low, gravel dragged over syrup, and he doesn’t stop grinding against you — slow, deliberate, already so hard it makes your knees go a little soft.

YOU

We’ve got an hour, Lew. Don’t start something we don’t have time to finish.

LEWIS

We do have time. Just ten minutes. Hell — five. I don’t even need to get fully undressed. Just pull this little sundress up and—

His fingers trail down your outer thigh, slow and suggestive. You grab his wrist before it can go any further and glance back over your shoulder with a smirk.

YOU

You’re serious?

He looks at you like you just asked if the sky was blue. His cheeks are flushed, jaw locked tight, and his eyes — dark and wide and wrecked — are shameless.

LEWIS

I’ve been hard since you bent over like that ten minutes ago. This dress is evil. You’re evil. I’m losing my mind out here.

YOU

We’ve got parents and nieces and cousins showing up any second. You really wanna sneak off while your mom’s walking in the front gate?

LEWIS

If it means I get to be inside you? I’ll risk it.

You laugh — an actual giggle — and he groans again, this time full-body, like the sound got pulled from deep in his chest.

YOU

You’re begging.

LEWIS

Damn right I am. Baby, I’m fucking aching. I woke up like this and it hasn’t gone away. I watched you walk around the kitchen barefoot, sipping coffee in that tiny towel, and I’ve been in hell ever since.

You straighten up slightly, still crouched, letting your hips roll back into him just a little — enough to make him hiss through his teeth. He grips your waist tighter, knuckles white.

YOU

You look pretty when you’re desperate.

LEWIS

I look pathetic. And I don’t care. Please, baby.

You finally stand and turn to face him, and he looks like a man on the brink — hair tousled, lips parted, and his hands flexing like he doesn’t know where to put them if they’re not on you.

You trail your fingertips up the front of his tight blue Winchester tee, stopping right over his pounding heart.

YOU

Let me get this straight. You want to sneak into our house, fuck me so fast and hard I can still smile at your mom twenty minutes later, without any of our siblings or nieces catching us?

He nods, quickly. Eager. You tilt your head.

YOU (CONT’D)

Mm… no.

LEWIS

What?

YOU

No. You’re gonna wait.

He actually stumbles back a step like you physically knocked the wind out of him.

LEWIS

You’re joking.

YOU

Not even a little.

LEWIS

You’re gonna make me go back inside. With this.

He gestures wildly toward the very visible outline in his pants, looking like he might actually scream.

YOU

You’ll survive.

You bend back down again — slowly this time — as you reach for another six-pack of soda. The sundress flutters up again and you hear Lewis let out the softest, most strangled groan behind you.

YOU (CONT’D)

Beer cooler’s yours. Don’t forget the ice. And maybe… cool off while you’re at it.

LEWIS

You’re cruel.

YOU

You love it.

You don’t even have to look back to know he’s still standing there, jaw tight, fists clenched, completely wrecked — and the damn cookout hasn’t even started yet.

INT. KITCHEN – LATE AFTERNOON – COOKOUT IN FULL SWING

The kitchen is loud with overlapping conversations — your mom fussing over potato salad, your niece begging for another juice box, and Lewis’s sister pulling cupcakes out of a bakery box with loud praise.

You slip through the crowd with practiced ease, refilling the chip bowl and tossing another batch of forks into a tray. Every time you turn, you feel it:

His eyes.

Lewis watches you from across the kitchen like he’s starving. He’s leaned casually against the fridge, red Solo cup in hand, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at you — eyes low, mouth slightly open, thumb rubbing the rim of his cup like he’s imagining it’s your skin.

You flash him a sweet smile and then turn to help your cousin with the lemonade.

A beat later, you feel it: his hand. Just a brush of fingers at the small of your back as he walks behind you, so light it could’ve been nothing. But it isn’t. You feel it like a live wire.

LEWIS (LOW, BEHIND YOU)

I’m gonna drag you into the bathroom if you keep looking at me like that.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking.

YOU (SOFT)

You wouldn’t.

LEWIS

Try me.

⸻

EXT. BACKYARD – TWENTY MINUTES LATER – GOLDEN HOUR

The sun’s beginning to sink, casting that buttery light over everything. Paper plates dot the grass, kids shriek as they chase each other with water guns, and the scent of grilled burgers hangs thick in the air.

You’re sitting beside your aunt at the long picnic table, sipping a spiked lemonade. Lewis is on the opposite end, laughing with your dad and tossing something on the grill, but every few minutes, he glances your way.

Not subtle.

You cross your legs slowly under the table and his gaze locks onto your thigh as it slides out from under your sundress.

He blinks.

Then looks away with effort.

Two minutes later, he texts you:

Lewis: I’m gonna lose it.

Lewis: One more look like that and I’m bending you over the laundry room sink.

Lewis: That’s a promise.

You smile down at your phone, then shoot him a reply:

You: Better hope your mom doesn’t need a dish towel while I’m in there, then.

Across the table, he nearly chokes on his lemonade.

⸻

INT. HALLWAY – MOMENTS LATER – INSIDE THE HOUSE

You duck into the house under the excuse of checking the corn in the oven. The kitchen is momentarily empty.

You open the oven, peer inside… and then sense someone behind you.

YOU (SOFTLY)

If that’s my mom, I swear I’m not burning it—

You turn and—

SLAM.

Lewis pins you gently but firmly against the hallway wall between the kitchen and the laundry room, one hand planted beside your head, the other already gripping your waist. His breath is hot against your cheek.

LEWIS (ROUGH WHISPER)

You think this is funny?

YOU (TEASING)

A little. You’ve been hard for like three hours.

LEWIS

And you love it.

You don’t answer.

You just smile.

His lips graze your jawline, the side of your throat, slow and shaky.

LEWIS (CONT’D)

Tell me to stop and I will.

You don’t.

You tilt your head back, breath catching.

His hand dips beneath the hem of your sundress — only a little. Just his fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh.

Then—

FOOTSTEPS.

Voices. Your cousin laughing, someone calling for ketchup.

You both freeze.

YOU (BREATHLESS)

Don’t. Move.

LEWIS (MURMURING INTO YOUR EAR)

Baby, you are killing me.

The voices pass. You swallow hard.

You glance up at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted, your body thrumming.

Then you shift, slip right out of his grasp, straighten your dress, and shoot him a look over your shoulder as you walk back into the kitchen.

YOU

Corn’s done.

He stays frozen in the hallway for a moment, chest rising and falling, hands flexing at his sides.

And then he mutters under his breath:

LEWIS

Un. Fucking. Believable.

EXT. BACKYARD – EVENING – DINNER TIME

The sun is sinking low now, dipping the backyard in soft amber. Everyone’s finally sitting down with paper plates full of grilled food — burgers, corn, pasta salad, chips, charred hot dogs for the kids. Laughter echoes under the string lights, someone’s Bluetooth speaker is playing Fleetwood Mac, and all seems right in the world.

Unless you’re Lewis.

He’s seated at the far end of the long picnic table, trapped between your mom and his dad, trying to nod politely through a conversation about someone’s new patio furniture — but he’s not really there.

Not when you’re sitting directly across from him, licking butter off your fingers like it’s nothing.

You look warm and sun-kissed, cheeks flushed, sundress riding up slightly as you shift in your seat. One knee rests over the other, swaying lazily. You lick the edge of your thumb, catch his eye, and bite into your corn on the cob.

Slowly.

Lewis. Breaks.

He shifts in his seat — again — legs spread wider, as if that’ll somehow help with the very obvious situation in his jeans. He grips his paper plate like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth.

LEWIS

(muttering to himself)

She’s trying to kill me.

YOUR COUSIN (TO LEWIS)

What was that?

LEWIS (QUICKLY)

Nothing! Uh — the, uh — food’s great.

Your eyes glitter as you bite into your burger, deliberately ignoring the look he’s giving you: part hunger, part despair, all pent-up frustration.

He tries to focus on eating. He really does. But every time he looks up, you’re doing something else cruel:

• Reapplying lip balm.

• Sucking the juice from a piece of watermelon.

• Stretching your arms overhead like you don’t know your dress rides up when you do.

You’re a menace. And you know it.

He texts you again, right under the table:

Lewis: You’re actually evil.

Lewis: I can’t do this much longer.

Lewis: I’m gonna say something insane in front of your mom.

Lewis: Stop.

You glance down at your phone, then up at him, and take the slowest sipfrom your lemonade. Tongue against the straw. Legs crossed tighter.

His jaw tightens.

You lean forward across the table a little, arms resting on the edge, and speak sweetly:

YOU

Everything taste okay, babe?

He stares at you like he might combust on the spot.

LEWIS

Delicious.

He looks anything but okay.

You tilt your head, like you’re all innocent.

YOU

You look a little flushed. You alright?

LEWIS

Peachy.

Your dad walks by and claps him on the shoulder, totally oblivious.

DAD

You alright there, Lewis? You look like you’ve been working the grill yourself.

Lewis laughs. It sounds like pain.

LEWIS

Just… uh… hot out here, sir.

You bite back a smile. Take another bite of corn. He watches you like he’s counting the seconds until he can finally have you alone again.

And right now, you’re winning.

EXT. BACKYARD – NIGHTFALL – POST-COOKOUT GLOW

The string lights twinkle overhead now, swaying gently in the breeze. Most of the paper plates are empty, plastic cups half-full and scattered, and the last of the kids are chasing fireflies barefoot through the grass.

You’ve kicked your shoes off. You’re perched on the porch steps, sipping from the same lemonade you’ve been nursing all day. Your sundress is hitched up just a little from sitting, legs bare and stretched out in front of you.

Lewis stands behind you, hands on his hips, scanning the yard like a soldier planning an escape route.

LEWIS (LOW)

Alright. Everyone’s eaten. Everyone’s full. They’re gonna start leaving now, yeah?

You hum noncommittally.

YOU

Might take a little longer. My mom never leaves without wrapping up at least three different types of leftovers. And your aunt’s probably already loading the dishwasher.

LEWIS

No. No no no. I’ve been hard since before the guests got here. I am done. I am reclaiming my girlfriend now.

You turn slightly, resting your chin on your shoulder, all soft eyes and faux-innocence.

YOU

Is that your way of offering to clean?

LEWIS

Yes. Enthusiastically. Furiously. Just — alone. You and me. Inside. Now.

He claps his hands once and raises his voice toward the family chaos around the yard.

LEWIS (LOUDER)

Hey! Everyone! We’ve got clean-up handled — seriously! You guys just enjoy the night. We’re good!

You blink. Bold of him. A few cousins pause mid-conversation. Your mom looks up from where she’s gathering a pile of napkins.

And then?

MOM (MATTER-OF-FACTLY)

You hosted. We clean.

Lewis freezes. His mouth opens, then closes.

LEWIS

What?

YOUR AUNT (WALKING BY WITH TUPPERWARE)

It’s the rule, sweetheart. Host doesn’t lift a finger. Now scoot, where’s your trash bags?

COUSIN (TO YOU)

We’re making a take-home plate

You are okay. You’re��perfect. Especially now, as Lewis stands beside you looking like he might cry.

LEWIS (TO HIMSELF)

This is a nightmare. This is my personal hell.

He leans down beside you, murmuring under his breath:

LEWIS (LOW)

They’re multiplying. I swear there’s more of them than before.

YOU (SOFTLY, SMILING)

You look like you’re about to break.

LEWIS

I am about to break. I have never wanted you more in my life and your mom just handed me a Glad bag and told me to double knot it.

YOU

Mm. Sexy.

He stares at you. He is unamused. You are very amused.

LEWIS

You’re evil and I love you but I also might die.

YOU

You’ll survive. Barely.

Your little niece comes racing across the yard and crashes into Lewis’s legs with a sticky hug.

NIECE

Lewyyy!! Can I have one more cookie?

Lewis smiles weakly.

LEWIS

Sure, sweetheart. You can have anything. Literally anything.

As she runs off again, he turns to you — defeated, flushed, teeth clenched.

LEWIS (WHISPERING)

You better hope they leave in the next twenty minutes or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you upstairs in front of your entire bloodline.

You grin.

YOU

Tempting.

INT. LIVING ROOM – LATE NIGHT – QUIET, FINALLY

The last goodbye drifts through the front door.

Tupperware has been handed out. Hugs exchanged. Your mom and his finally pulled away from each other with promises of brunch next week. The front door clicks shut behind them.

Silence.

You turn the lock slowly.

Behind you, Lewis is still. Watching.

You barely get a breath in before he’s on you.

LEWIS (LOW, ROUGH)

Don’t move.

His voice is wrecked — low, hoarse, trembling with restraint. You turn, and the second your eyes meet his, it’s over.

SMASH.

His mouth crashes into yours like a storm — no teasing, no gentleness left. Hands gripping your waist tight, walking you backward blindly until your back hits the nearest wall. The kiss is filthy — all teeth, tongue, desperation. Like he’s making up for every second he spent sitting politely at a dinner table with a hard-on.

LEWIS (BREATHLESS, BETWEEN KISSES)

You. Fucking. Tortured. Me.

YOU (GASPING, LAUGHING)

You liked it.

He growls, literally growls, and grabs your thighs in both hands. You don’t even get a warning — he lifts you up like nothing, your back against the wall, legs wrapping around his waist as his mouth drags down your jaw to your neck.

LEWIS (WHISPERED, DARK)

I’m not gonna be gentle.

You bite your lip, nodding, breath caught.

YOU (SOFTLY)

Don’t be.

That’s all it takes.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER – DARK, LIT ONLY BY MOONLIGHT

He stumbles through the door with you in his arms, kicking it shut without ever looking away from you. Clothes are gone in seconds. His shirt hits the floor first. Then your sundress — yanked over your head, left in a heap.

You’re in nothing underneath.

LEWIS (HOARSE WHISPER)

Of course you weren’t wearing anything under that fucking dress. Of course you weren’t.

He kisses down your chest, messy and hot, like he can’t decide where he wants to start — teeth grazing over a nipple, tongue flicking the other, hands gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself.

He finally pulls back, eyes scanning you from head to toe like he’s been waiting all day to see you like this.

LEWIS (LOW, SERIOUS)

Hands on the headboard.

YOU

Yes, sir.

His eyes flash.

LEWIS

Don’t say that unless you mean it.

YOU (BREATHLESS)

I do.

That’s it. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the headboard himself, kissing you hard as he lines himself up. The first thrust steals your breath — deep, hard, unapologetic. He doesn’t ease in. Doesn’t give you time. And you don’t want him to.

The rhythm is filthy.

Fast, hungry. His fingers dig into your thigh, spreading you open wider, hitting deep with every snap of his hips. You moan his name and he slapsyour thigh — not hard, but enough to make you gasp.

LEWIS (ROUGH, RIGHT AT YOUR EAR)

You think you can tease me all day? Make me sit there hard while you eat corn and smile at me like that?

You nod, breathless, grinning.

YOU (PANTING)

Yeah. And I’d do it again.

LEWIS (DANGEROUSLY CALM)

You’re such a brat.

His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles. You arch off the bed, body trembling.

YOU (WHIMPERING)

Lewis, I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—

LEWIS

Then come. Right now. Be loud. I want everyone who drove away tonight to hear how wrecked you are.

You do. Hard. Shaking under him, crying out his name as he fucks you through it, still thrusting, still kissing you like he’s addicted.

He doesn’t stop until he’s gasping your name into your neck, hips stuttering, body shaking.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty, breathless, and still kissing every inch of skin he can reach like he needs to.

The room is quiet now — windows cracked just enough to let in a warm breeze, the faint sound of crickets outside blending with the hum of the ceiling fan.

You’re sprawled on his chest, still catching your breath, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin. Lewis’s arm is wrapped tight around your back, the other hand resting in your hair.

For a moment, there’s peace.

Soft. Golden. Satisfied.

Exactly two minutes of it.

And then —

LEWIS (VOICE LOW, RUMBLY)

Alright.

You blink, eyebrows lifting.

YOU

…Alright?

He shifts under you. Big hands slide down your back. His fingers trail along the curve of your ass — still tender from how hard he gripped you minutes ago.

LEWIS

I need more.

YOU (LAUGHING, MUFFLED AGAINST HIS CHEST)

Already?

LEWIS (DEAD SERIOUS)

Yes. Babe, I’ve been on edge since noon. I’m still not okay.

He flips you effortlessly — body shifting under yours, hands grabbing your thighs, rolling you onto your back so he’s hovering over you again, eyes darker now than they were before.

YOU (PLAYFULLY WHINING)

You said “worth the wait” like five minutes ago.

LEWIS (GROWLING SOFTLY)

That was Round One worth the wait. Now I want the rest.

His mouth crashes into yours again — slower this time, but deeper, hungrier. Less frantic, more claiming. He kisses you like he’s trying to ruin your mouth for anyone else.

His hand slips between your legs without breaking the kiss, and you moan into it — still sensitive, but already pulsing again under his touch.

LEWIS (BREATHLESS, MOUTH ON YOUR NECK)

You’re soaked again already.

YOU (GASPING)

That’s your fault.

LEWIS (WHISPERING INTO YOUR SKIN)

I know. I love it.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, then flips you again, this time face-down — hands on your hips, dragging you toward the edge of the bed.

LEWIS (LOW, CONTROLLED)

Up. On your knees.

You obey instantly — breathless, dizzy, and so ready. You press your forearms into the pillows, arching your back, legs trembling already.

He drags his fingers down your spine — slow, reverent.

LEWIS

Look at this. This is mine.

He slides into you again with one deep, punishing thrust — and you whimper, already stretched and aching, but god, it’s so good.

This round is different — deeper, dirtier. His rhythm is intense, hips slamming into you with the kind of precision that says he knows your body now, every little reaction, every gasp and moan.

You cry out when his palm smacks your ass — again, not too hard, but enough to make you clench around him.

YOU (GASPING)

Fuck—Lewis—

LEWIS (DARK LAUGH)

You made me wait all day. Now you take everything I give you.

He reaches forward, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back. You moan helplessly into the sheets.

YOU (WHIMPERING)

Lewis, I—oh god—

LEWIS (BREATHLESS)

Say it. Who’s fucking you this good?

YOU (RUINED)

You. You are. Always.

You come with a full-body shake, legs giving out, body clenching around him so tight he curses, stuttering behind you as he follows, coming deep and hard, pressed flush to your back, whispering your name like a prayer.

[krystalyn7171]

Saving The Hunter (Ben Mears x Reader)

Summary: You somehow manage to save Ben from becoming the one thing that you swore to hunt

Warnings: Vampire bites, parenthood, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Tagging: @krystalyn7171 for that little request you sent in the other day

You held your husband, terrified as you fought to cleanse the wound on his neck, a pretty vicious bite from a particularly nasty vampire that somehow, by God's grace, Father Callahan and the others managed to stake.

Ben writhed and screamed as you pressed the white wash cloth doused in holy water against his neck. You did everything you could to bite back the tears you were beginning to shed, the wave of terror shooting through you when you began to see the signs of turning slowly setting in. You begged and begged him not to turn, screaming until you were hoarse in the throat.

You grabbed the crucifix next to you and held it against his forehead, practically screaming the Our Father as you used all your strength to help him fight. But soon it wasn't just your voice echoing throughout the church, it was the other members of the coven who had joined in, their voices reaching a terrifying crescendo as they recited the last line.

"........Lead us not into temptation, BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL!!!!"

One last scream rose in Ben's throat before something black and ghostlike flew from his mouth, rising high into the air like smoke before it screeched and flew from the window, shattering the glass as it disappeared.

You fell exhausted against Ben's limp body, sobbing and shuddering with fright and sadness, yet a ray of hope suddenly lit up within you when you heard the steady beating of his heart and felt the warmth radiating off of him.

You wearily raised your head, your eyes widening with shock and relief when you felt his hand gently stroking your hair.

"Hi sweetheart," he croaked.

Another sob broke loose before you pressed a searing kiss to your husband's lips. He kissed you back, your tears hot against his face but relieved to be alive.

You helped him to his feet but he felt his knees buckling, weak from the loss of blood and the fight he had just put up. Matt helped him into the back of Hank Peters's truck, laying him down flat with a feed sack for a pillow. As soon as the tailgate was lifted and closed, Matt started up and headed for home where Jimmy and Jennifer Cody were both waiting to receive their patient.

Ben was immediately brought into the little room just off the dining room that served as their private and surgery room. Jenny checked his vitals first before tending to the wound, trying to be as gentle as possible.

You held his hand through the whole thing, though it took everything in Corey Bryant's power to keep Mark and Randy out of the room, even when Randy was demanding to see Ben. Ben gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, even when he was in the throes of receiving burning stings from the antiseptics. As soon as Jenny had finished her work, she helped you bring Ben upstairs to settle him into bed to rest.

"Probably gonna have to have ya'll on some wild treatments," Jenny concluded as she hung up her grandmother's crucifix near the window.

"Like what?" Ben asked her.

"Well for one thing, you're gonna have to wash every day with holy water for at least a week," she explained. "And that means a bath in the morning and one at night."

"Anything else we should know?" you asked her.

You and Ben noticed a strong smell of something cooking in the kitchen and the heavy smell of garlic wafting up the stairs, which meant only one thing.

"Oh God," Ben groaned. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"I'm afraid so," you chuckled. "It's Mabel and Eva's five garlic chicken soup."

Ben made a gagging noise and pretended to stick his fingers down his throat. That was the last thing he wanted to eat was chicken soup with five cloves of garlic boiled into one helping.

"You're gonna eat it mister," Jenny informed him. "Any traces of vampire poisons need to be flushed out and that'll be their enema."

Mark came upstairs a minute later with a Yeti full of ice water for Ben and a soup mug full of five garlic soup, snickering up a storm until Ben gave him the look. Mark skittered off to his room to go and read before bed just before Randy waddled in to say goodnight.

"Ni' ni' daddy," he chirped as you lifted him up.

"Night buddy," Ben answered, kissing his warm little cheek.

Randy zoomed off to bed in his dark blue silky pjs, leaving you and Ben alone after Jenny turned in for the night. He ate most of his soup, albeit reluctantly, the garlic starting to work its magic as that familiar warmth began returning to his face along with just a tinge of pink in his cheeks. Once he had eaten as much as he possibly could, you snuggled in beside him, the coolness of the air conditioning chilling you both from the intense heat of June.

"Baby I'm so sorry I scared you," he croaked.

"Ben?"

You could see the tears forming in his eyes, his chin wobbling a little as your face met his. "You mean everything to me," he said, his voice catching a little. "And to think.......to think that I almost turned....."

You threw your arms around him before he peppered your face with kisses. "You're ok Ben," you assured him, kissing him back. "I promise."

A sob escaped his throat as he kissed you again, the two of you whispering sweet nothings until you fell asleep with your arms around each other. When you awoke the next morning, the both of you with lazy and sleepy smiles on your faces, it was as though heaven itself had settled over the lot.

[krystalyn7171]

Vampire Ben Mears- Salems lot

TW-Vampirism, blood, a little bit of violence if you squint, other than that i think thats it.

It would be a nice morning, Y/N sitting in her car, looking at the old Marsten House, feeling something want to pull her in, a quiet feeling, a feeling she was trying to shake off.

She'd be back, visiting the Lot for inspiration for her new book as she would be an author. Driving on down into town, she would go look for a place to rent while she stayed. After finding a pace, she would settle in and start by going to the library for inspiration, not until after she met someone named Susan at the realtor place who got her the place to stay.

Y/n would be settling in well while here in the Lot, mostly at the library but not before being invited to the drive in before the night was over.

After all the fun at the drive in, she would head on back to her room and get to bed. She would fall asleep instantly, worn out from the days events. As she slept, what started out as a dream would get slowly worse. In it, she would be walking up to the old Marsten house, a faint male voice calling her name. Slowly she would make her way up to the house, it ominous as always, even more so close distance away than far away, She would make her way up to the door, it creaking open, as if expecting her. Candles would light the room in front of her, flames flickering as a soft breeze brushed on through the room. The voice would grow louder, the tone of it almost seductive in a way, “Come to me.”

She'd make her way up the stairs and stop, a door creaking open slowly, the calls growing louder now. As the door now would completely open, she would walk towards it, complete darkness filling the room, nothing but a black void of a room. Without hesitation, she would walk towards it, a hand grasping her own and when she was pulled into the dark, Y/n would dart awake, sweat coating her body, sheets at her feet. Kicking the blankets off of her feet, she would get up and go get breakfast and some coffee, haunted by the dream she had last night.

New of a boy gone missing would spread through the town, a lot of of the townsfolk and herself would go on a search party to search for him, but no luck. Day by day would go by and people would be found dead, but of course everyone thought they were actually dead, but they weren't, but the people didn't know better.

Y/N would meet up with Mr. Burke, a man that was dealing with a vampire in his home. But Y/N already had something on her mind, the fact of her nightmares of being lured into the Marsten house, but never seeing what the vampire looked like, at least not yet.

“Whatever you do, don't ever go there by yourself. Those dreams mean something and I'd hate for you to get hurt, or turned.” he said, looking up at the doctor who was cleaning the wound on his head.

“I'll try my best.” Y/n would say, looking over at Susan.

things got worse in the town and more people were dead and disappeared, the town would grow quieter, more and more cars missing from the streets. Mark would soon join in the team. Mark said he killed Striker after he was captured. It would be a first for Y/n would feel strange after Mark had brought her and the rest of the crew to the Marsten house Flashbacks of her nightmares would flow through her mind, a hand in the darkness, glowing eyes, a hiss of excitement and then pulled into the the darkness, nothing happening after that, no sign of what the lead vampire looked like, nothing, not yet at least. But something changed that night after everyone went their separate ways. Y/n would be at her room, the feeling of being watched weighing down on her mind. Whoever the lead vampire was, the feeling of being curious was taking over and wanting to go to the Marsten house.

It would be late and no reason to go out, she would lay in bed, closing her eyes, trying her best to fall asleep, afraid of more nightmares. But when she did fall asleep, it was the same as the last, walking up to the Marsten house and entering inside of it, but the voice louder this time, so audible she was able to distinguish it as a male voice. Her own voice would be caught in her throat as she wanted to yell out to him, ask him what he wanted with her, but nothing came out. She'd try to stop but her legs move on their own, the bottom of her gown tickling her shins as she walked up the stairs and to the top. But as she then reached the top, she would see candlelight glow up the room that was once a pitch black void.

“Come to me.” the male voice spoke softly but echos around her as if he was not too far down an empty hall.

Her feet would once again move without her control into the room, no hand grabbing her own, nothing but a figure standing at the window, back facing her. She'd shiver as the room got really cold and in the presence of the lead vampire in her dreams.

“You've come.” he spoke, his voice like soft like silk.

Y/n would gulp, fear rising through her spine, even though it was a dream, it felt all too real. He'd have semi slicked back hair, but still a bit on the ruffled side like he had just had a fan blowing on his head.

“You have no need to fear me darling.” he spoke again, his voice still smooth like silk.

Even though her body would be still, she'd feel a chill down her spine, lips quivering as if to find some sort of words to come out, a chuckle escaping his lips, “And in due time, you will see my face, but no name to go along with it.” the chuckle darkened a bit, the candlelight going out and just as his breath was upon her neck, everything would vanish and she'd wake up, drenched in sweat.

It would still be night out, but the dream felt like it dragged on for how much of sleep she may have had. She couldn't hold back, she had to know, to see him, even if it meant alerting the other vampires of her presence. Not changing her clothes, still in her gown, she would run down the stairs and to her car. Again, the feeling of glowing eyes on her, but they didn't get near her, as if obeying an order from their master. Turning the key, the car would start up and she would back out and then head straight to the Marsten house. Once there, she would park her car, the only thing lighting up the area would be the moon, setting an eerie glow upon the second story house.

Wasting no time, she would make her way up to the steps, vampires on the roof of it, watching her intently. Reaching the door, she would watch it open like it did in her nightmares, letting her in instantly.

“I.I..” words could barely form as she made her way up the stairs slowly, no creaking coming from the floorboards beneath her feet.

Candles were lit everywhere, no natural light, or light bulbs, just yellow gold candlelight. She'd go to the room where he was, she remembered instantly, the way the window was set up, but no figure, no vampire in front of her to call out to her. Then she'd feel a chill down her spine as a clawed hand caresses her hair, gently scraping against her scalp. Fear would eat at her on the inside, heart racing, pumping her blood fast through her veins.

“You finally came to me.” he whispers in her ear, this sending a violent chill down her spine, “Not heeding the words of your friends at all.”

He let his breath wisp past her ear before pulling away, playing with her hair.

“P...Please, w...why me?”

“Why you??” he asked coyly, footsteps beginning to sound along with the door shutting, “Because, I know you feel so alone, so quiet and desperate for more in life than what you already have.”

“You don't know anything about me.” she said with a shaky voice, trying to hold back any sort of fear, but it was failing, cause he chuckled, knowing well what she was trying to accomplish.

“Really?? Then why come to me?? I could have easily let the others take care of you and you'd be in my world of the undead as just another vampire or dead if I so commanded it.”

Hearing more footsteps, she would squeeze her eyes shut, hearing them walk around her and stop suddenly, afraid of what he might do instead of say.

“Look at me.” he ordered her, commanding tone in his voice.

“Mmmmm.” she would bite her lip and shake her head, “No.”

He would raise his voice even more, “I said open your eyes!!” a growl would also sound within it as well.

She'd whimper, eyes slowly opening, vision still hindered a bit.

“Not good enough, you want to know what I look like don't you?? A face to the master of this town?”

She'd whimper again, shaking as her eyes opened more, now able to see, to see the vampire before her, the lead vampire. His skin would be pale, a light glow would shimmer in his eyes, a golden glow. His hair would be not messy, but some hair falling in his face and some behind his ears, and a smile, a smile that would show off his fangs, “Now you know what I look like sweetheart.”

“W...What is your name??”

“I don't know my name sweetheart, I have gone by so many, I have forgotten.” he took a few steps towards her, pressing her up against the wall, caging her in with his arms pressed up against the wall on each side of her head, his frame tall as well.

She didn't say a word at all, looking down at the ground, trying to not look at his strong gaze.

“You know you want this sweetheart, to be finally free of human bonds, to take away all the pain of it, tired of running. I can help you.” he gently places a finger underneath her chin and pulls it up to look at him, a soft look in his features despite being an evil being, “Besides, I need you to take care of your friends, help me lure them into a trap and finish this once and for all.”

She didn't say a word, hypnotized by the look in his eyes, body no longer shivering in his presence. In less than a moment she would tilt her head to the side, offering him to turn her. Baring his fangs, glistening in the light of the room, he sank them into her soft flesh, her blood filling his mouth and sliding down her neck and chest. A loud gasp would come from her, hands grasping his shoulders, groaning and closing her eyes. Her body grows limp as he pulls away from her neck, blood coating his lips and fangs. Before she fell, she would be caught by him and carried to the bed. He'd lay her down and step back, her eyes wide, body shaking as the transformation began to take hold. It wouldn't take long till the transformation was complete, the bite marks gone from her neck, her skin pale and cold, not moving at all, not yet, then her eyes would blink, a glow showing in her eyes, mouth open and showing fangs.

“There she is.” he smiled, taking her hand and sitting her up, “How do you feel??”

“Undead but yet but so alive.” she said, sliding off the bed and standing up.

“Perfect, come, we must go to the drive in, you'll see why when we get there.”

They would soon arrive at the drive in, her in her car, parking it with all the other cars. She would soon learn what this was, cars as coffins.

“Find the others tomorrow night, bring them here and we will take them out once and for all.”

The sun would rise a few hours, all the vampires asleep in the trunks of their cars, his coffin in the back of a big old truck, away from the sun.

The others would realize that Y/n was missing, nowhere to be found and thought the worse and they would be correct when they realized all the cars were not in town anymore. They would show up to the drive in and saw all the cars spread out almost zig, all within cover soon of the big board for watching the movie. Soon Y/n's car would be seen and they were now knowing of what had happened to her, heading over to her car. Popping open the trunk, they would see her in her pale blue nightgown, sleeping, “Y/n....” Mark would say, the doctor grabbing a stake, ready to end her vampire life. But the sun would soon fall behind the board, shadow growing over the cars, trunks popping open. They would back away, leaving Y/n's trunk open. One by one the vampires would climb out of their cars, shortly after Y/n would open her eyes, hissing as she woke up. Her senses would be heightened and when shadow completely covered her car, she climbed out, Mark would back up to keep in the sun, “Y/n.”

Tilting her head, she would look at the large truck and then back to him, almost as if giving him a hint, but there was nothing she could do yet as the sun would still be out. Mark tilted his head as other vampires got their eyes on the two humans standing by the concession stand. Y/n would hiss at them, telling them to back off. The doctor and Mark would get the hint and walk over to the large truck and pull open the doors, seeing the coffin inside.

“She led us right to him, what is her game plan??” the doctor asked.

“Whatever it is, she's helping us.” Mark said quietly.

They would pull out the coffin and try to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge at all, no luck at all. But the moment the shadows reached it, Y/n would be walking over and yelling out at them, “Look out!!”

The lid would fly up into the air and the two would fall back and scoot away, standing up and running into the concession stand building.

“Get them!” her master would say, Y/N stopping in her tracks, standing before him. She didn't do as he commanded, his eyes narrowing at her, “I said, get them!!”

“No.”

“I gave you new life and you betray me like this!” He growls at her, jumping down in front of her.

“I'm not turning them or killing them.”

He towered over her, eyes glowing bright.

She would be distracting him as the doctor would be coming out and stood behind him, ready to put a stake through his heart. But he smelled her and turned around, grabbing her by the throat, her hand dropping the stake that was in her hand. Y/n would grab it, but not before he would grab her own throat and throw her back, other vampires trying to pin her down, but she was fast, running as he pinned the doctor to the wall, He would be ready to sink his fangs into her neck, but not before Y/n was right behind him, “You leave them alone!!” she'd stab him in his heart from the backside, his eyes going wide, hand releasing from the doctors throat.

“Y....You betrayed me.” he then collapsed to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at the starry sky.

“Y....You saved us, why??” Mark asked, hand holding a stake just in case it was a trick.

“I couldn't kill you two. I just can't and couldn't put it in my undead self to hurt you two. But before we continue, we need to get out of here and safe.”

They nodded to her and walked over to her car, the vampires backing away after seeing her kill their master, she still hissing at them to back off. The doctor would drive, and they headed out, had to find a place to keep Y/n safe from when it became sunlight.

“So, now what??” Mark asked, still a little frightened of Y/n.

“You two don't have to do anything but stay safe, I have to stop other head vampires from doing the same to other towns.”

“We can....”

“I don't want to put you two in any danger, I can do it myself. I will figure out ways to keep myself safe from others and the sunlight. You two escape this life, I cannot escape it as I became something I cannot change.”

The conversation would continue on as they drove out of the Lot, leaving all and everything behind them. When it came time, they would drop Y/n off somewhere, a place she could hide herself during the day and that would be it,off to leave everything and Y/n behind, her new life starting and ready to stop all other vampires that would be a harm to humans.

[krystalyn7171]

[crashing sound]

Yelena: What was that?!

Bob: My shirt fell.

Yelena: It sounded a lot heavier than that!

Bob: ... I was in it.

[krystalyn7171]

Prime Rib for Ben Mears please

One prime rib comin up my friend!!!!!! I'll write the other one up as soon as possible but for meow, here ya go (lol).

You and Ben never expected the coven's little business venture to take off so quickly or to be so successful from the get go. In fact, it had made you and your housemates more money that you could ever dream of along with Ben's latest book which had made the New York Times bestseller list.

Book Odds and Book Ends had been the last thing you and the household had expected to take over, but with the way things were in the lot, it was bound to happen sooner than later. That hole in the wall shop that specialized in both new, used and rare books meant more to you guys than anything else in the world.

Mike Ryerson had come home screaming excitedly about it one sweltering afternoon in early May, just as Mark had gotten off the bus from a half day at school. You and Ben were shocked beyond words to hear that he and Lucy had finally wrestled it away from that detestable Mrs. Winfield who had threatened to close down the place that she had deemed an eyesore in the town. But thanks to Ben and your housemates, the store was saved after Parkins threatened her with parking tickets for the foreseeable future and both Jimmy and Jennifer Cody threatening to remove a kidney and donate it to a patient at the hospital.

It had been the best venture the coven could possibly have invested in. The shelves were stacked to the gills with a wide selection of hardcovers and paperbacks that you swore had seen the flood of Noah while the entire store was heavy with the familiar smell of old books. Day after day, there was no shortage of books to be unpacked and shelved but Eva often laughed at you when she found you in the back sniffing the pages of a 1920 edition of "Alice Through The Looking Glass".

Today had been a particularly busy day with no shortage of foot traffic in the lot. May 23rd was the absolute last day of school at Stanley Street School which meant Mark, Danny Glick and their gang of neighborhood Goonies would be in to buy out the whole middle readers' section. Sunshine, your babysitter, had come by with Randy for a little visit before heading to the café across the street to get him some lunch, but it wouldn't be until 4:30 when the store closed that she would be back to drop him off with you and Ben.

Ben clicked away at the typewriter in the back while you unpacked the latest book delivery at the desk, a huge load of science fiction and fantasy books that someone had donated and more of which would be coming soon enough. Your copy of "The Man In The Iron Mask" was still splayed open next to the register keyboard while the wooden cart had been empty and waiting for the load of books.

The familiar rumble of the bus approaching signaled that it was already three o'clock on the button. You peered out the window to find Mark, Danny and at least five others jumping off the bus and barreling into the store, the small bell above the door ringing as they burst in.

"Make sure you put your books away if you don't take them!" you called after them.

"Yes Mrs. Mears!!!!" they all called back.

You saw Ben wandering from the back room, his daily ten page goal having already been met. "They go to the middle reader section?" he asked.

"Yup," you answered, stacking the books on the cart.

You and Ben heard the bell above the door ringing again when Randy pushed the door open, waddling in on his little legs as Sunshine bade you both farewell for the day. Ben scooped Randy right up in his arms and littered the two year old's soft cheeks with kisses, reveling in his little baby giggles.

"Alright little man, one story and then we need to close up and go home soon," Ben told him.

You watched your husband as he took Randy to the children's corner and began reading one of Randy's favorites. By the time the last hooligan had been shooed out of the store with an armful of books, you and Ben could finally close up the place. On the ride home, Mark was chatty as ever, filling you both in on the latest sixth grade gossip that always happened on the last day of school.

"Can I go with the guys to the drive-in tonight?" Mark had asked you both. "They're doing a reshowing of JAWS."

"You sure you wanna do that?" you chuckled. "Last time you watched it, you freaked out and didn't wanna take a bath for a month."

"Everybody's gonna be there, Mom," Mark explained earnestly. "Besides, we'll be with an adult too. Danny's older cousin, Scott's gonna be there with his girlfriend."

You and Ben thought it over for a minute. You had both known Scott Glick since he had been a pigtail pulling little rascal at Stanley Street School along with his girlfriend, Cheryl. Scott had since gone into the police academy under both Parkins and Nolly Gardiner's tutelage and that Cheryl worked down at the public library, both of them trustworthy in your eyes as well as the rest of the parents in the lot.

"Alright but you little dipshits know the rules, right?" Ben reminded him. "If anybody tries to pressure you with smoking, drinking or drugs, you go find the nearest phone and call us, you stay with your friends and DO NOT get in a car with anybody who's been drinking. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" Mark answered fervently with a salute.

"Good," Ben replied. "You remember where Father Callahan keeps the key in case you get locked out?"

"Under the Irish Blessing Stone on the porch," Mark answered.

"Perfect," Ben said satisfactorily. "You might not need to worry about it tonight since Uncle Matt, Father Callahan, Mike, Hank and Royal are all going out on a hunt. They'll be back by three at the latest but just remember to put the key back."

Ben pulled into the driveway at the coven house where Beth and Frank Daniels were sitting out on the porch and enjoying the sun of early summer. Mark was the first one out of the car, barreling up to them both with his backpack and books in hand, rushing up to his room and eager to read them before dinner.

"You realize he's gonna lose his shit when he sees that shark, right?" you joked.

"(Y/n) I expect nothing less," Ben chuckled. "But if we go down to The Cape or over to Boothbay Harbor and I see fins in the water, I WILL be humming that music just to watch him jump."

You laughed and joked with him as you unloaded Randy and your bag from the back of Ben's car and headed into the house. You were both definitely looking forward to seeing Mark's reaction in the morning and whether or not he'd be able to handle the film the second go around.

[krystalyn7171]

I Feel You

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

Summary: The new medication you’re taking is making your sexual cravings unbearable, and when Sentry returns to the compound from a mission, it tests every inch of composure you have.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut and Fluff, The medication is technically sex pollen (but not really, it’s not the central focus of this but it’s what’s makin the reader a little on edge) Reference to Medication Use, Reader was sick prior to this and the science behind the medication is referenced to and explained.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (Y’all…You know what I’m gonna say lol), Breeding Kink, Praise/Worshipping Kink, Reader is taking additional measures to not get pregnant (Birth Control Shots), Dirty Talk, Sentry is a tease and a little bit ‘bratty’, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Is this a little feral? I would think so.

Author’s Note: I got an idea from a semi-request/statement from an anon by the name ‘book reader’ and a lot of other people. I literally couldn’t write this any faster! It was so fun to write, and I mean…Sentry with a breeding kink is something else, so I had to. Can’t resist pleasing the masses. I can’t wait for tomorrow’s update though!

Word Count: 6,395

The elevator doors dinged down the hall, and your ears practically perked up from the notification-like sound. You didn’t need to check the time, or the monitors that you had on your tablet. You knew exactly who it was that had arrived.

The heavy booted footsteps confirmed it completely for you–one heavier than the other, slow, grounded, and familiar in a way that made your heartbeat spike. The quiet thud of his body weight, the hum of his energy radiating through the hallways, and the buzzing that came from each ceiling light he passed due to the reservoir of power that was still slipping out of him from the mission he had just returned from.

You could practically track him from the elevator, to the kitchen, to the start of the hallway that led to your shared quarters. And unfortunately for your dignity, you could already feel yourself squirming in your spot.

You tried to stay still, buried under the blankets with your book held high like it might block out the oncoming disaster. But the second the door cracked open, and you peeked over the top of those long forgotten pages–any hold you had on your composure shattered.

Sentry stepped inside, still in his full mission suit. You had seen him in it a hundred times, you’d seen him take it off, you’d also seen the multiple variations he had gone through to get the correct fit, and every time he was in it he looked phenomenal, there was no question about that. But right now, laying in the bed you shared with Bob, the image in front of you made every fiber of your being tense up.

The gold fabric clung to Sentry's body like it had been vacuum-sealed against him. There were faint dirt stains and burn marks that were scattered along the shiny golden landscape which only emphasized the thick curves of his shoulders and the strain of his biceps beneath the sleeves. His cape had slipped down one side, draping behind him like an afterthought, it was dark, a sharp contrast to the sun-kissed yellow that he displayed on his body. His chest was rising with effort, muscles shifting with every exhale as he dragged one boot off, then the other.

You could feel your jaw slacken slightly, and you tried your best not to let out a moan at the sight.

“I know,” Sentry muttered suddenly, glancing briefly toward you with a sheepish breath, “I know. You told Bob that when I come back from missions, I need to use the other door to get to the washroom so I don’t get our room dirty. I just…Need more space right now and I don’t want to accidentally wreck the bathroom.” You didn’t respond. You were too busy watching the way his arms raised behind him as he tried–and failed–to reach the latch of his cape. His triceps flexed hard, rolling under the gold, every movement slow, strained, and achingly distracting. You swallowed hard, feeling the heat crawling down your neck.

He grunted in frustration, “This damn thing…” God, even the noises he was making were causing you to shift against the mattress for some sort of relief. He shook the cape loose a bit, but it got stuck again. You could practically see every detail of his shoulder blades shifting under the suit, and each time his muscles flexed it felt like real-time torture. Your stomach clenched, and your thighs pressed together beneath the blankets.

Then he let out a defeated sigh, turning halfway towards you again.

“My sunshine…” He started softly, voice coaxing, like he could feel your stare, “Can you please help me out of this thing? I’m getting very annoyed by it.” The nickname made your gut twist. It was the one he always used when he thought you were angry at him, the one that always forced a smile onto your lips because it was just too hard to stay in a bad mood around him, even if he did stupid things. You weren’t mad this time though, and if anything, that soft, familiar tone just made your stomach twist up even more.

You remained frozen, eyes devouring every inch of him like you hadn’t touched him a thousand times before…Like this was the first time you were seeing what his body could do, or how it moved so…Nicely.

When Sentry didn’t hear any shuffling of sheets, or your usual reluctant sigh you made when you had to leave the fortress of blankets you created around you, he spun around to look at you fully.

”Sunshine?” He repeated, a hint of confusion and concern lacing his words–then he stopped dead in his tracks. Your eyes were wide and glossy, practically shimmering with need. You looked like you weren’t even breathing, and he could see a faint sheen of sweat glazing your skin. You were locked on him like he was your prey, and you were about to pounce.

His eyebrows raised at you, “Um…Why are you looking at me like you’re going to eat me?” He asked, taking one step toward the bed. Your hand shot out like a warning.

“Sentry, I will rip you out of your suit,” You choked out, half-laughing, half-pleasing, “Don’t come any closer.” A grin appeared on his lips, the warmth immediately radiating off of it.

”What’s going on with you?” He asked teasingly, crouching down beside the bed, voice dipped low, “You look all sweaty and…Stressed.” He reached out, and placed one of his large, warm hands on your cheek. You flinched slightly at the contact, not from discomfort–but because the heat between you doubled immediately. Your skin felt like it was vibrating beneath his touch.

”And you’re boiling hot,” He murmured, “Are you sick again?” You shook your head quickly, turning slightly as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against your cheek. But then he breathed in–slow and deep–and you could instantly see the way his face changed, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

Something soft and ripe lingered in the air around you–faintly fruity, like the first bite of an overripe peach or the skin of a plum warmed by the sun. It wasn’t artificial in any sense of the word, and it certainly wasn’t perfume. It was just skin and hormones bleeding quietly into his senses.

He knew that scent very well because he had smelled it once before. When stolen kisses and late-night touches between you and Sentry didn’t exist. Before you ever pressed your forehead to his and whispered his name in pure ecstasy. Before you got on the birth control shot that muted everything and dulled it out, flatting it to a faint sweetness that he could only smell if he had his face buried between your legs.

Now that he was smelling it again it brought on the ache of nostalgia. But it also made him hyper aware that something had changed.

”You’re ovulating” He said dryly, swallowing the thick saliva that began to coat his tongue.

”No Sentry, I’m not ovulating. I’m on the shot, remember?” You responded, which instantly earned a very stern shake of his head.

”No, no…This is not your usual scent. I would know. I’m all over you all the time basically. You smell like how you used to smell before you were on those birth control shots. Have you…Have you stopped taking them or something? Were you thinking of surprising me?” He asks, with a smirk coming up on his lips.

You let out a groan, dragging your hands down your face like that might save you.

”Of course I’m still taking the shots…It’s just this stupid medication has put me down the path of becoming a feral animal.” He let out a small laugh, and he realized it seemed like he had missed a chapter of your life–because he didn’t remember what medication you would be taking that could cause something like this.

”What medicine did they give you?” You threw your head back against the pillow, with a huff.

”It’s this stupid antibiotic-antiviral crossover thing. The med bay said it’ll help me heal quicker from that stupid systemic infection I got from that lab a few weeks back–but they also mentioned that the chemical makeup of the drug technically has similar derivatives from sex pollen plants. So here we are now…Going through the side effects.” Sentry moved back slightly, and his brows knitted together.

”And you thought you could override the effects? What did you think was going to happen?” He asked jokingly. You groaned, placing your palm against his chest, trying to push him back slightly.

”They told me all the side effects were manageable, and for the most part they are…Sue me for trusting the medical professionals. And move back–for the love of god, you’re literally exuding your hormones onto me.” He laughed harder this time, bringing one of his hands to wrap around your wrist, rubbing his thumb gently across your forearm.

“I’m not doing anything,” He said with feigned innocence, eyes gleaming, “I’m just sitting here checking on my girlfriend.”

”Sentry, shut up,” You gritted through your teeth, jaw tight. He leaned in again, lips ghosting against your boiling hot cheek.

”What’re you going to do if I don’t?” His voice was smooth like honey, and his breath fanned over your skin, sticking against it. You squinted, eyes narrowing at the questions.

”Maybe I won’t take off that annoying cape you were complaining about.” You shot back, and his eyebrows lifted, grin spreading even wider.

”And keep me in the suit that turns you on enough that it makes you look at me like you’re about to jump my bones?” He tilted his head slightly, golden eyes glowing with barely restrained amusement, “Please…I can already tell I’ll need to give the designers a call to order me a new suit with those eyes you’re giving me right now.” There was a pause. The kind that stretched and hummed with too much heat and too little space.

You could feel his eyes tracing over your face and you couldn’t look away. Your jaw clenched, tight like you were trying to bite back everything you wanted to say–and everything your body was already begging to do.

Then your voice cracked softly through the air.

“You’re right.”

He blinked, not fully processing the shift until you moved–quick and sudden, like gravity had finally won. You surged forward and grabbed his face between your hands, tilting it just enough to crash your mouth against his.

The kiss hit hard. No warning. No patience.

Sentry let out a small grunt of surprise but met you without hesitation. His lips were hot, tasting faintly of smoke and salt, still buzzing faintly with power. His hands flew to your waist, then one slid up your back with desperate care, cradling the back of your head like he was afraid to let you go.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, threading through those soft light brown strands you loved, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth at that, the sound cracking open something inside him as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—tongue brushing yours, kiss turning rough, messy, addictive.

You whimpered against his mouth, your whole body rising off the mattress, arms locked around his neck, knees bumping into him from beneath the blanket that had began to slip off of you.

His breath hitched. Then broke.

Sentry pulled back only slightly, lips swollen, panting softly, his pupils blown wide as his forehead leaned into yours.

“Okay,” He exhaled, voice ragged, almost trembling with restraint. “Okay–please take the cape off. I need to get this suit off in one piece before you kill me.” You were dazed and flushed warm, your thumbs dragging across his smooth cheeks, “I was just joking about calling the suit designers,” He added quickly, a breathless, nervous little laugh escaping him, “If I wreck another one Val is actually going to tear my head off…So please. Spare me that.”

You laughed into his mouth and reached up, fingers sliding under the collar of the cape. He sat back on his knees and let you pull at the fastenings. Your hands were trembling slightly, not from nerves–but need. The second the clasp popped loose, the fabric slipped away from his shoulder like silk.

His shoulders heaved as he exhaled hard, finally freed.

“Thank god,” Sentry groaned, “Now let me take the–“

You didn’t let him finish. Your hands curled around the edges of his face, and you kissed him again–hot and fast, like the ache in your body had officially taken the wheel.

”The–“ Another kiss, more demanding this time, your mouth pressing against his again.

”Rest of the–“ Your lips moved to his jaw now, biting softly as your hands ran over the fabric that caressed his shoulders.

“S-Suit off–“ He gasped when you kissed the corner of his mouth again, slowly–torturous even–your hand sliding down his chest as the golden fabric shifted beneath your fingers.

”Before you–“ You kissed him once more, longer this time. Tongue grazing his lower lip, pulling a shudder from deep inside his chest.

“Kill me–“ He breathed against your mouth, voice hoarse with a laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. You reached behind him, fingers finding the hidden zipper of his suit with ease–due to muscle memory, and need–dragging it down with a soft tug. The sound it made was practically obscene, echoing loud in the quiet room. You wrapped your other arm around his lower back to guide the rest of the zipper down, knuckles grazing skin that was already burning.

Sentry let out a low, breathy laugh against your mouth.

“I guess now I know how you feel,” he murmured, his voice still laced with warm amusement, “when I’m in such a rush to get your clothes off I get all shaky and stuff.”

You smirked against his jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth again.

“How the tables have turned, hmm?”

His laugh deepened, husky and half-gasped as the zipper caught just above his hips. “I would say it’s karma…But who’s paying attention to terminology right now?”

You leaned into him, kissing him once more before undoing the large crest-shaped belt that wrapped around his waist. The buckle clicked free with a satisfying snap, and the heavy piece dropped to the floor with a muted thud. His arms wrapped around you, momentarily startled by the sound, then eased again as you pushed the blankets fully off your legs.

You shifted upward onto your knees, the hem of your oversized t-shirt lifting with the movement–settling just at the tops of your thighs, tickling the overheated skin there.

Sentry’s breath shook against your lips as you kissed him again, this time slow and devastating, your hands peeling the gold fabric down his shoulders. He let it happen, arms slack, breath catching as the top of the suit was pulled away completely, revealing the flushed skin beneath.

His muscles were tight and still pulsing from exertion–shoulders broad and slick from the leftover heat of the mission, chest rising fast with each pant. His collarbone glistened faintly under the dim lighting, skin smelling like ozone and sweat and the faintest trace of smoke. That post-mission scent you always craved but never admitted to. You pulled back slightly, eyes drifting downwards, as you lost your words.

No matter how many times you saw him naked–or half-naked like this–it still drove you insane. It didn’t matter how many nights you’d spent curled against his chest, how many times you’d touched him. Your body always reacted like it was the first time.

And somehow, there was always something new.

Your eyes caught it as he shifted–just below his right pectoral, near the delicate curve of his ribcage. A tiny cluster of freckles. Soft, scattered like constellations you’d never noticed before.

You reached out, fingertips brushing lightly over them.

Sentry went still, his chest tightening under your touch.

“What…?” He asked softly, looking down at your hand.

“You’ve got freckles here,” You murmured, voice dazed with awe. “I’ve never seen them before.”

He looked down too, brow furrowing slightly. “Huh. I didn’t even know I had those.”

You ran your fingers over them again, slower this time, watching the way his skin twitched. “They’re really cute.”

His breath hitched under your touch, and you looked up just in time to catch the small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Must be that medication making you hyper aware of all my little features,” He commented, eyes flicking to yours with playful fondness.

You tilted your head, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “Or I just pay attention to you all the time and never thought to point out the new things I’ve seen until now.”

He groaned quietly at that–overwhelmed in the way he always got when you were like this. Not when you were wrecked and needy, but when you were quiet. Focused. When your eyes saw more than just his body–when they saw him.

“Ever the attentive lover, Y/N.” He whispered, brushing his nose along yours, kissing you again–slow and unhurried, despite the tension buzzing between you. You smiled into his mouth and leaned back just enough to rest your hands on his hips, fingers curling against the thick golden fabric that still clung to them.

“Take the rest of the suit off, please.” His eyes darkened slightly, the golden hue turning a slight caramel colour. He was happy to play along.

”Command heard, Sunshine,” He said with a grin, backing up a bit. You watched as he reached for the waistband of the suit and pushed it lower, easing the fabric down over his hips slowly.

The moment it dropped far enough for you to see the curve of him pressing hard against the tight black briefs beneath, your breath caught.

He was already half-hard–thick and heavy, straining against the material like he’d been on the edge ever since you kissed him.

You let out a soft, involuntary “Mmm,” and he chuckled, amused and smug.

“You really are losing it for me, huh?”

You nodded instantly, words spilling out with zero shame. “Can’t help it. You bring it out of me.”

His smirk softened into something more gentle, something a little stunned, as if that sort of confession still knocked the wind out of him. Then he leaned in again, mouth finding your jaw, lips brushing a kiss just under it.

“I think I can get used to this.” Your stomach fluttered as his hands slid up–slow, teasing–under the hem of your oversized shirt. The pads of his fingers were light, tracing over your heated skin like they had all the time in the world. Your breath stuttered at the sensation. He kissed down the column of your neck, slow and methodical, like he was marking out territory with his mouth.

”You’re wearing too many clothes,” He said, voice rick and low against your skin, “Especially for someone who wants to be fucked into the mattress.” A sharp, shaky breath escaped you, your fingers digging into his arms as he whispered the next part, almost sweetly–

“Let me help you. Hmm?”

Your voice broke around his name. “God–Sentry. Please.”

That was all it took.

He grinned, one hand sliding to your waist while the other gripped the hem of your shirt and tugged it up, over your head in one clean motion. He tossed it aside without even looking, his eyes locked on the newly exposed skin in front of him.

Your breasts were soft and full, rising with each shallow breath you took. Your nipples were already peaked from the cool air in the room–even though you felt like you were on fire from the inside out. Heat was radiating off your skin, sweat slicking your sternum in a sheen he knew the taste of far too well. His mouth had been there many times, had claimed that skin like sacred ground, had suckled and bitten and worshipped you in every state imaginable–but somehow this still stole the breath from his lungs.

And then his eyes dipped lower.

The black lace underwear you wore clung to your hips like a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. They were cheeky in the back, riding high on your curves, and dipped just low enough in the front to tease him with a hint of what was underneath. The lace was delicate, sheer in some places, and it hugged you like it had been made for his hands to slide beneath.

A puff of air escaped his lips–barely controlled, like he’d just been given the first glimpse of heaven again. “My god,” he breathed, golden eyes burning, “You’re so beautiful. As always.”

Your arms slipped around his neck like instinct, pulling him close, your lips finding his with a heat that almost knocked him back. The kiss was messy and greedy–tongue and teeth and too much want spilling into it. His hands slid down your back, fingertips pressing into the arch of your spine, pulling you against him. He groaned into your mouth, shifting forward, his hands slipping under the edge of your lace waistband just enough to feel skin–just enough to tease. And then he pulled back slightly, his nose brushing against yours as he spoke.

His voice dropped, thick and sensual, velvet-drenched and trembling with restraint.

“Lay back for me, sunshine,” He murmured, “Let me taste the sweetness that’s driving you mad. Let me worship the ache between your thighs until you forget your own name.” His eyes were shimmering and the air around you pulsed like it was responding to the divine hunger that was curling within you, “I want to see how wet you are just from watching me breathe.” Your head fell back on a gasp, the words so obscene and godly at once it made your thighs twitch, your breath catch, and your soul stutter. You met his gaze again with a fire that matched his own and slowly laid back against the pillows, legs parting slightly in invitation.

Sentry inhaled sharply, almost broken.

And then he descended.

His palm pressed flat over the lace between your thighs, and he groaned.

A long, broken sound that cracked in his throat like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. The fabric was soaked–utterly drenched–and the heat radiating off your body made it stick wetly to your core like a second skin.

Sentry’s eyes fluttered shut for a split second as his fingers dragged slowly over the slick fabric, then pressed in harder, rubbing a circle just above your entrance.

“Oh–fuck,” You gasped, your hips arching up involuntarily.

His jaw clenched at the sound. His mouth watered so fast it made his tongue press against his teeth, and he dropped his head with a strained grunt.

“This is–“ He breathed, voice ragged as his fingers curled into the waistband and yanked them down off your legs in one rough motion. “These are ruined.”

He balled the soaked lace in his fist, his knuckles going white, and brought them to his nose before you could say a word.

Then he moaned.

It was shameless, guttural–like something unholy had crawled up his throat and made a home there. He inhaled again, eyes fluttering, golden lashes trembling.

“Jesus Christ,” He growled, voice thick with something feral. “I’m keeping these. You smell so…” He trailed off, groaning again, deeper this time. “So fucking good. Fuck.”

He was panting now and before you knew it he was on the bed fully, his massive frame pressing you down into the mattress as he settled between your legs. His shoulders pushed them open a little wider with zero effort, spreading you like a meal he’d been starved of.

“I want to see all of it. I want your scent in my lungs until I can’t fucking think anymore.”

You whimpered, already gasping before his mouth even touched you.

And then it did.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t slow.

He dove in like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue was obscene–long, hard, and flat from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groaned again, louder now, into you, like the taste was more than he could bear.

His tongue circled, then flicked, then sucked—mouth latching to you with greedy, wet pressure, and your fingers immediately tangled in his hair. You pushed it out of his face, the strands clinging to your sweaty palms as you cried out beneath him.

“Oh my god, Sentry–!”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even pause.

He growled into you again, biting softly at the inside of your thigh before licking back up and sucking again, harder now–no rhythm, no restraint. He lapped you open, tongue dragging and curling and licking so deep and rough it had your legs shaking within seconds.

He was messy with it–face slick, chin soaked, groaning constantly as he devoured you like a feast he hadn’t earned, like this was divine punishment for something and he wanted more of it.

“Sentry–fuck, it’s–oh God, oh God–I can’t–!”

You were writhing, hips rolling against his mouth, and he just held you there, huge hands locking over your thighs, pinning you wide open while his tongue fucked into you, lapping greedily at your soaked heat before pulling up to suck your clit between his lips again.

And he wouldn’t stop moaning.

It was constant–this low, vibrating, starving sound, like you were pouring into him, drowning him in it, and he wanted to sink deeper.

Your nails scraped his scalp and he groaned again–louder, sloppier, tongue dragging harder and faster, chasing your high like it would save him. His mouth was fucking soaked. Your slick was everywhere–coating his lips, dripping down his chin, making obscene wet sounds every time he dragged his tongue through your folds again.

When he pulled back just barely, panting, face wet and eyes completely wild, he growled–

“You smell so fucking good right now. I can’t think–I can’t breathe.” And then he bit your inner thigh. Hard.

You yelped, the jolt shooting through you like lightning, and he soothed it with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, tongue flicking over the mark like an apology he didn’t mean.

“You taste like everything,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I need to come with your taste still on my tongue.”

Then he ducked down again, and this time he didn’t tease.

He buried his mouth against your core like he was staking a claim. Tongue thrusting deep and curling inside you while his nose bumped your clit. You could feel the moans vibrating through you as he sucked and licked and fucked you with his mouth like he was trying to crawl inside your body and live there.

Your vision whited out.

The sounds echoing off the walls–wet, vulgar, desperate–were barely human anymore. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, and your hands were tangled in his hair like lifelines.

“Sentry–Sentry, I’m gonna–!”

He growled against your clit and then sucked so hard your back arched clean off the bed as you screamed his name, the orgasm tearing through you so violently you swore you blacked out for a moment.

But he didn’t stop.

He licked through it, into it, mouth still worshipping, dragging every last tremor out of you until your legs buckled and your thighs clenched hard around his head.

Only then did he slow–kissing gently now, reverently, dragging his tongue over your sensitive folds with soft flicks, breathing ragged into your skin as he groaned again.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” He murmured hoarsely, eyes half-lidded and golden. “Sunshine…I’m fucking addicted to you.”

You could barely form words–panting, dazed, your body trembling in the aftermath.

And still, his hands cradled your thighs like you were sacred, kissing them like they were altar stone, soft and warm under his lips. He nipped gently at the skin, then soothed the bite with his tongue, waiting for your breathing to even out.

“Did that give you a little bit of relief?” He murmured, his voice low, thick with satisfaction and reverence as he looked up at you. Your fingers combed slowly through his hair, and the soft strands seemed to ground you. The way you touched him–gentle, languid–made his chest ache. He kissed you again, higher up your inner thigh this time, and whispered, “Y/N…Still with me?” Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and glossy, and you gave a breathless laugh, voice cracking as you exhaled:

“God, you’re so good with that mouth of yours.” A slow, bashful smile appeared on his lips, but it didn’t last long–because your hand was already tugging at him, pulling him up your body with a hunger that made his heart stutter.

He kissed up your stomach as he moved, slow and hot, letting his tongue swirl in a line past your navel, over the sweat-slick curve of your ribs, before finally claiming your lips again. The moment his mouth met yours, you tasted it—your own sweetness still on his tongue—and the sound you let out was pure sin.

Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his briefs, tugging firmly.

“I need you to fuck me, Sentry,” you breathed against his lips, eyes blazing with the kind of desperation that made his cock throb painfully hard inside the tight fabric.

He cupped your cheek, thumbing gently at your jaw, his voice reverent and dark.

“I’ll do way more than that.”

You gave a breathy little laugh, and he kissed the sound right off your mouth.

Then his hand dipped low, pushing his briefs down and off with one swift movement before tossing them aside without care. The moment he was free, your breath caught.

He was painfully hard–thick and flushed, the head a deep red and glistening with precum. You whimpered, hips twitching, thighs falling open for him on instinct.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

Sentry gave himself a few slow, teasing strokes, his erection heavy in his hand as he guided it toward your soaked heat. He dragged the head up and down your folds, collecting your wetness, smearing it over your clit in lazy, sinful strokes that had your entire body tightening.

Then, finally, finally–he lined himself up and pushed in.

You both gasped.

The stretch was overwhelming. You could feel every ridge of him, every thick inch dragging against your fluttering walls as he sank in slow and deep, inch by devastating inch.

Sentry groaned above you, burying his face in your neck. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” he breathed, his voice strangled, almost wrecked already. “You’re clenching around me already–fuck–like you were made to take me.”

Your back arched at the words, your hands gripping his biceps so hard your nails left marks.

“Sentry–please–move–” You begged, gasping against the shell of his ear.

He growled and started to thrust.

Hard.

He didn’t ease into it–he didn’t need to. Your body pulled him in like a vice, slick and hot and pulsing around him. His hips snapped into yours, his cock dragging against your sweet spot every time he slammed in, and it made you cry out.

The sound only drove him harder.

“Fuck–fuck–you feel perfect,” He snarled, grinding into you, his lips brushing your jaw. “So fucking warm and wet–tightening around me like it wants to keep me forever.” Sentry grunted as he bottomed out again, cock twitching inside your soaked walls. His hands were braced beside your head, caging you in, and the look in his eyes made your breath hitch–feral, starved, and glowing with something divine and dangerous.

“You sure that birth control works well enough?” He murmured low against your ear, thrusting deep and hard, dragging another desperate cry from your lips. “Because you feel like you’re begging to get knocked up.”

You gasped, nails raking down his back. “Maybe I am.”

He stilled–just for a heartbeat.

Then he snarled.

“Oh, fuck–you want me to do it, huh?” he hissed, grinding his hips in slow, brutal circles. “Fill this pussy so full of cum it takes root? Fuck a baby into you while you’re this wet and needy?”

You whimpered, head falling back against the pillow as your thighs shook around his waist. “Fuck, Sentry–yes–please–”

His jaw clenched. “You know I’ll do it,” he panted, hips snapping harder now, punching gasps out of your chest. “I’ll give it to you, sunshine. I’ll fill you so deep you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” He grabbed your hands suddenly, intertwining your fingers with his, and slammed them down into the mattress beside your head. The weight of him over you, the way his grip locked yours in, made you cry out with need.

“That little shot won’t stand a fucking chance when I’m done with you.” He hissed, mouth brushing your ear.

“Oh my God–fuck–do it,” You gasped, voice cracking into something filthy. “Do it, Sentry–fill me up–fuck your cum into me until it takes–make me yours.”

That broke him.

He let out a feral, animalistic sound, driving into you harder, faster, each thrust slamming you against the bed with enough force to make the headboard rattle.

“You’re mine,” He growled. “You’re mine, you hear me? I’m gonna fuck you until you scream with it–‘til there’s so much of me inside you your body won’t know what to do but keep it.” You cried out again, the coil inside you twisting impossibly tight. Your legs were trembling violently now, your vision going hazy around the edges.

He could feel it.

He knew.

“Fuck, sunshine–come for me,” He groaned, still pinning your hands. “Come while I fuck a baby into this perfect little pussy of yours–let me feel you break.” You shattered.

Your body arched violently, walls clenching down so hard it made him curse, your orgasm crashing through you in white-hot waves that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

He fucked you through it.

Harder.

“Fuck–fuck–you’re squeezing me so tight–God–I’m gonna–”

One final grind of his hips, deep and brutal–

And he came.

Hot, pulsing streams of cum spilled inside you, thick and endless, coating your walls with such pressure you felt it flood you. It didn’t stop. He kept grinding, deeper, groaning against your throat, body shaking with each twitch as more and more poured out of him.

“Oh my fucking god,” He gasped, biting down on your neck, not to hurt–but to ground himself. You whimpered, breathless, and ruined. He groaned into your skin, hips twitching one more time as he pushed forward, sinking his cock just a fraction deeper–pressing every last drop inside like he couldn’t bear the thought of pulling out yet.

A long, shaky sigh escaped his lips as he finally stilled, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His grip on your hands loosened, and slowly–almost reluctantly–he shifted his weight to one side so he could look at you properly.

Your face was flushed and dewy, lashes fluttered half-closed, mouth parted slightly as you panted through the aftershocks. Completely dazed. Wrecked. Glowing.

He blinked, then let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing your hair gently back with the knuckles of his hand. “How was that?”

You blinked slowly, then gave him the laziest, most satisfied grin imaginable.

“So fucking good,” You murmured, your voice rough from how much you’d been crying out his name.

He smiled, warm and proud, and leaned down to kiss you gently–long and sweet. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing slowly across your damp skin. And just as your lips parted with a hum, your walls fluttered around him–still full, still holding him deep.

He pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against yours.

“It’s like you have a spell on me,” he whispered, golden eyes flickering, “All I want to do is be inside you… Or buried between your thighs. You must be a sorcerer of sorts.”

You let out a hoarse little laugh, breath hitching as your fingers pushed back the sweaty strands clinging to his forehead. “Or,” You murmured, “You just love me very much…That could also be the thing, too.”

He nodded solemnly. “That too…” And the two of you broke into quiet laughter.

Then he started pressing kisses all over your face. Your cheeks. Your forehead. The tip of your nose. “If it wasn’t for the fact that it would require you getting sick again,” he said between kisses, “I’d want you to be on that medication more often. Feral you is very interesting.”

You giggled softly, voice light but worn out. “Sentry… I’m practically always feral for you and Bob. This just heightens everything.”

He smirked at that, nuzzling his nose along your cheek. “It also makes you a siren,” he muttered. “I felt like a sailor who was about to die at sea.”

You snorted and pulled him into another kiss, soft and lingering. “I’m going to boast to Yelena that I almost killed a God.”

His laugh rumbled against your mouth, warm and low. “By all means…Boast all you want, You’re deadly.” He replied, dragging his lips down your jaw, planting one last kiss on your throat as you both sank into the mattress–warm, tangled, and thoroughly undone.

[krystalyn7171]

warnings: dark themes, possessiveness, controlling behavior, emotional manipulation, 18+ themes (mdni)

okay but…soft!dark!possessive!bob has been on my mind a lot recently.

like this man has been through everything—addiction, trauma, abuse, and being forgotten by the world over and over. but then he meets you, and suddenly it’s like his world is 100x brighter.

you make life liveable for him. you make things make sense.

you look at him like he’s good, like he’s safe. and for the first time, he believes that he is.

but he needs that. he needs you.

at first, it’s gentle.

lovely little café or bookstore dates. going to those movie theatres that show old movies for half the price of a normal ticket. he’d shower you with flowers, little hand-written notes, and say things like

“please stay a bit longer”

“i sleep better when you’re here”

but that softness that made you fall in love with him starts to turn sticky.

clingy.

obsessive.

it starts with a few extra texts.

where are you?

did you make it home safe? honey?

it's getting dark. maybe don't go to that party tonight. let's just stay in. i'll come over. we can make pasta. please?

you find his concern endearing in the beginning. given his past, you couldn't fault him for how he feels. he thinks that the world is dangerous, and the people in it more so.

"don't take the train, okay? that guy you mentioned at the station last week—he could be dangerous. just let me drive you."

"but you already went out with your friends yesterday. don't you think it's better to just stay home today?"

"the world is too dangerous for someone as sweet as you."

"i don't know what i'd do if something happened to you."

his voice still trembles whenever he says your name. he still holds onto you like you're the last good thing in a horribly broken world. but now, his grip is always a bit tighter around your waist. now, there's a fear that shines in his eyes—terrified that you might slip through his fingers if he blinks.

when you finally move in with him after he spent months convincing you, his love starts to swallow you whole.

there's no such thing as space. or quiet. or alone.

he calls you whenever you're out. wants to track your location "just in case". and by the time you come home, he's already waiting there with dinner, plans, and questions.

soon, he starts to become obsessed with your health—your sleep, your meals, your water intake, your screen time.

he wants to make sure that you're perfect.

he'll meal prep all of your meals, trying to make them as healthy as possible. he'll shoot you quiet, disapproving looks if he sees you eating too many cookies, chocolates, or chips.

"it's all fine in moderation, darling. but maybe you've had enough for now? let me cut up some fruits for you."

soon, his early bedtime becomes yours.

it starts off with him disguising it as needing to cuddle you so he can sleep.

you couldn't deny that it's flattering—being needed like that, being the thing that makes the nightmares go quiet.

but the requests get more insistent.

the "please come sleep with me" turns into "you always stay up so late" and then into

"you don't care about your health like i do."

"you keep pushing yourself and i have to watch it ruin you."

you don't even realize it's a rule until you break it.

you stay up past 10pm reading or gaming, just once, and the change in bob is unmistakable.

he doesn't reach for your hand the next morning.

doesn't kiss your forehead when he passes back your mug that he filled with steaming coffee.

he still brings you snacks, still folds your laundry with precision, still says "love you" before he leaves the apartment. but it's cold. practiced.

he never says he's punishing you. how could he be? he's still sickly sweet, just a bit. . .off.

yet the moment you crawl back into bed with him at 9:58pm, he softens again. arms open and voice tender.

like nothing happened.

"there she is. my good girl."

the passive aggressiveness stings more than a scream or slap ever could.

but it's okay, you tell yourself. this is real love.

that he just wants what's best for you.

right?

sex with him is slow. intense. all-consuming.

there's so much eye contact that it feels like he's trying to read you. he touches you like he's afraid you'll vanish, but holds onto you like a lifeline.

bob's clinginess transforms during these moments.

it metamorphoses into pure, unadulterated devotion and worship.

he'd make you cum on his tongue and fingers a minimum of three times before slowly pushing his cock into you. his thrusts are focused and steady, but they get more sloppy the closer he gets.

missionary is his favorite position. he just wants to see your face and the way your lips part as you get closer to the edge. sometimes he presses his ear against your mouth just to feel your hot breath or hear your little noises.

eventually, as that coil of pleasure is close to exploding deep within his belly, he'd change your position. he'd have you wrap your legs around his waist, using one arm to lift you and hold you against him while the other hand grips the headboard for stability.

the bed creaks under the effort. his muscles flex around you as his body feels like a wall—solid and unshakable.

his sheer strength always leaves you breathless. but it never frightens you.

it's just a reminder.

a reminder of what this man has survived.

what he's capable of.

the damage he's done.

the destruction he could cause.

but never to you. no, he would rather die than ever lay a finger on you.

so he gives you everything else instead.

his body, his strength, his desperation that bleeds into every thrust. the quiet groan of your name against your skin like a prayer. the way he shudders when you say his in return.

and when he finally falls apart, spilling into you with a low, broken sound, you wrap your arms around him and let him cling.

because that's all he's ever wanted.

to be held like he's still human.

to feel like he's worth saving.

to feel loved.

[krystalyn7171]

Anyone want to do a marvel rp like through discord?? Something to do with thunderbolts? Mostly bob, sentry and void?

[krystalyn7171]

How i feel when I wake up and im supposed to and want to be writing.

[krystalyn7171]

SALEM’S LOT (2024) dir. Gary Dauberman

[krystalyn7171]

Hospital Bob

trigger warnings- violence, death, lots of blood, insane Bob

@horrormovielover2000

It would be close to nighttime and Y/N would be going through birthing her's and Bob's son Donnacha. Bob would be next to her, supporting her along the way. For what would feel like forever and ever, their son would be born, but something was wrong, the look on the nurses and doctors faces showed it.

“W...what is it??” Y/N would ask, Bob looking just as concerned as she is.

“I'm sorry, your baby looks really sick by the looks of his skin,he looks very pale. We have to run some tests.” the doctor would say, rushing off with the baby in a little safety case and rolled him off.

Bob would look at Y/N and take hold of her hand, “Everything will be okay baby, everything will be okay.”

A few nurses came back and cleaned Y/N up and put her in a room with Bob by her side. Yelena would be allowed back to see Y/N and Bob.

“What happened??”

“He looked sick is what they told us and that they would run tests on him.” Y/N would say, looking over at Bob who would be pacing, his fingers fidgeting.

“I'm sorry to hear that, hope everything is okay.” Yelena would take Y/N's hand tight.

All the while Bob would be muttering under his breath, still pacing and still fidgeting.

A couple hours later, the doctor would come in,a pained look on his face, Yelena would leave for the time being, heading back to the waiting room while the doctor talks to Y/N and Bob.

“Your baby has Fetal Distress,your baby is not getting enough oxygen, causing an abnormal heart rate and post partum infection. We are doing everything in our power to save him. We'll keep you posted on anything that comes up. So sorry.”

Y/N would look at Bob, tears forming in her eyes, “Babe??”

“Everything is fine, everything is fine.” Bob began to mutter, fingers curling together almost into fists, tears forming in his eyes.

“Babe??”

Bob would look up at Y/N, eyes red from tears fighting to spill, his heart beating fast. He then would storm off out of the room, Yelena coming in after seeing Bob from down the hall, “What's wrong??”

“Donnacha is not doing well.” Y/N would explain what the doctor told them, “A...and Bob just stormed off, he's not taking it well.”

A scream would sound from the nurses station, then silence. Yelena would peek out, but see nothing, but when Bob appeared, she would see blood on his hands and a scalpel. Yelena would pull herself back into the room, eyes wide, looking at Y/N.

“Oh my god. He's lost his mind!”

“Why?? What is going.......” another scream echoed out in the hall and down to the nurses station.

Yelena would slam the door shut, “H...He's..” Yelena couldn't finish her sentence before footsteps came running down the hall behind the door. Yelena would hold the doorknob just as it began to struggle.

“I promise babe, I will put another baby in you!!” he yelled from the other side of the door, “I'll be back!”

The doorknob stopped it's movement and Yelena would free her hands off of it.

“Wh...what is he doing?! Why did he just say that?”

“I don't know Y/N, but he's completely lost his mind with how your son is right now.” Yelena would say, taking Y/N's hand.

All the while, Bob would be searching, hunting for a bigger weapon, to take more out with, to take all of them out. The blood on his hands and shirt would be dry, but he wanted more bloodshed, more death giving retribution for his sick and dying son. He would search and search until he found a room, a room that when he peeked in the window, he saw all sorts of contraband that nobody ever bothered to pick up or hadn't picked up yet. With all his strength, he would try to push it, only budged a little. He grinned, muttering to himself, “She's all mine, all mine.” over and over again as he proceeded to kick the door with so much force, it finally opened. He would push it open, clapping and rubbing his hands together, seeing all sorts of weapons to choose from. He would find a machine gun and a smaller but still big automatic weapon with a strap to hang it from his side and he would grab a harpoon gun, to make sure his victims didn't run away too far. With everything he needed, he would step on out, seeing more nurses come from down the hall to see the dead nurses in the nursing station. A grin would be plastered on his face as he made his way over, machine gun in hand. Once up there, he would hear the fear in their voices and would look up to see him. Before they could even react, gunfire would go off and they would be hit by multiple bullets to the upper halves of their bodies. Blood would splatter everywhere and their bodies would fall to the ground. Going around, he shot them with the other gun,in the head, as to make sure they were gone, even though with that many gunshots, they would indeed be dead.

In the room, Yelena and Y/N would hear loud gunshots, “What the hell is he doing?!”

“Bob?? What is he doing??” Y/N would ask, sitting up in the bed, more and more gunshots sounding in their ears from behind the door and walls.

Sounds of the guns got louder and louder before they stopped at the door.

“I'll be back baby, I have to do this.” he then went on down the hall, more gunshots sounding and more faint screams as well.

“The hell?” Y/N asks as she slides out of the bed, “What the hell is he talking about??”

“Don't go out there, you are not going to like what you see.” Yelena warns Y/N, but she goes anyway and opens the door, gunfire echoing down the halls of the growing empty hospital. “H...Hello??” Y/N would walk up to the nurses station and peer over the counter, eyes widened in horror, “Oh my god, did....Bob wouldn't...” Y/N would stammer and back away from the nurses station.

Y/N would go back to the room, eyes wide and stares at Yelena, “H...He killed them, why??”

“Did you notice what he was acting like after the doctor told him the news of Donnacha??”

“He started muttering to himself before he stormed off.”

“He's doing this for you, your son.”

“This is no way of doing something for our son!!”

“You got to get some sense into him! Sounds like he's murdering the whole hospital.”

It would seem like hours before Bob would come up, the sounds of more footsteps coming, but it wasn't from Bob, it was multiple people. Yelena would peek her head out and see what would be security from another floor. It would be short lived before Bob would come around the corner, Yelena ducking back in before Bob noticed. As he walked closer and security would see him with the guns, they would raise their own weapons up.

Feeling the machine gun too heavy for the moment, he would drop it down the hall before opening fire on the security guards with the automatic gun as he walked towards them. Hearing the thud, Y/N would immediately check and see the machine gun down the hall, not too far from the door. While Bob was occupied with the last few security guards, Y/N would grab it and yell out at Bob. The moment the last security guard went down, he turned to look at the love of his life with the machine gun. She would then open fire on him, tons of bullets hitting his chest, his body falling back, but he wasn't taking any damage, just emotional damage for what his fiancee was doing to him.

Y/N would drop the machine gun, the look on his face that of surprise, “W...why??”

“Why?? You are murdering innocent people Bob!!”

He began to saunter his way over to her, very slowly, “I'm doing it all for our son, for us.” Y/N would back up as he stepped forward.

“N...No Bob, not like this!!”

“Yes baby, like this.” he said darkly, stopping just a moment, a sick grin growing upon his face.

Y/N would be terrified of the look, never seeing this side of him before, ever, “What are you thinking Bob??”

“Thinking of how I am going to fuck you till you cannot walk, put another baby in you, like I said earlier. I am going to make sure you scream my name over and over again, letting me know who you belong to.”

“I..I don't know what to say Bob, you've lost your mind!!”

“For you baby.” he backs Y/N into the wall, Yelena trying to find a way to stop this, Bob completely not himself.

Scared, Y/N would place a hand on his cheek, “Please stop this, stop this madness!”

“Why, when I am doing it all for you love.”

“I didn't ask for this. I want you to be by my side through this. I want more kids, but going about this the wrong way is not okay.”

He just chuckled, blood covering his front from the top of his shirt, face and hands and down to his pants, he would be a mess, a bloody mess, “I did it all for you love, and I will keep doing it until everyone in this hospital is dead and I have more floors to go baby.”

“NO!!” she grabbed his bloody arm and pulled him back, “Enough of this!! You don't need to do this for me, for our dying son, this is not the way to go!”

He would yank his arm away from her grasp and looked at her darkly, “I'm going to continue whether you like it or not.”

Looking over, he would grab the machine gun and the rifle and headed off to the elevator, his shoulders not sagging, his frame would be tall and strong as he disappeared into the elevator.

Yelena would come out and look at the reader, “We have to stop him.”

“How?? He's not going to stop until everyone is dead in this hospital.” Y/N would say, sighing heavily at what she had just heard from him, about what he's going to do to her, more killing for their dying son, “I think he's a lost cause Yelena, he will not stop.”

“There has to be some sane part in that violent brain of his, has to be and you and only you.” she would rub Y/N's back.

“He'll come back eventually, but my thing is, I don't know when he is going to do the things to me he wants to do.”

“Like I said, you are the only one that can stop him.”

As they talked, more screams and cries would be on the next floor up. Blood would be everywhere and on him, a wild look in his eyes.

“Retribution!!!” he yelled out as he mowed down everyone that was trying to run from him, blood splattering everywhere on the plain white and light blue hospital walls. Bob would be ruthless as he took out everyone, screaming that word over and over again as he killed more people.

There would also be begging from doctors and nurses alike, but he showed no mercy at all with their begging. Some would be writhing after they were shot and he would do quick work of them with the rifle.

His laughs would be maniacal as he went down halls, finding stray people trying to hide from him after hearing a barrage of gunfire.

“Can't hide from me!!” he ran them down with the rifle, saving the machine gun for far away people.

Once he was done, he would go back down to the floor Yelena and Y/N would be at, only to find them not there, “Oh no no no, you two can't hide from me. I will find you both!!” his yelling echoed down the empty halls, the dead littering the floor and pools of blood everywhere.

Indeed Y/N and Yelena would be a little bit ahead of him on trying to get out, but they knew it was only a matter of time that he would find them and keep them from ever leaving.

“We can only hide for so long, He's good at finding people.” Y/N would say to Yelena.\

“We only have to be a few steps ahead of him, that machine gun will wear him out eventually.” Yelena stated as they ducked down behind a desk as if he was already around the corner. No footsteps would sound which could have either been a bad or a good thing, especially when it came to Bob and this situation.

“We need to get to safety, he wants you Y/N. And we can't let him get you.”

By now he would have dropped the weapons as they were loud and he wanted to make sure he wasn't heard by Yelena and Y/N. He'd go down hall after hall, checking nurses stations but couldn't find them, at least not yet.

They of course would be a few steps ahead of him, but it wouldn't last long, not until they came across an elevator, it's ding loud. Bob would hear this and make a run for it, Yelena and Y/N running before the elevator could even open.

Now that he heard the ding with his great hearing, he grinned, the only weapon he holds is a pistol. Run, run, running they went, Bob in tow, gaining on them surprisingly fast.

“Crap.” Yelena muttered as they hit a dead end.

The running behind them slowed into a slow and possessive walk, words forming from his grin curled lips, “Thought you could outrun me??” He would soon emerge from the corner, the darkness of the dimly lit hallway making him look more ominous, “Give my fiancee over to me and I will be on my way with her.”

Yelena blocked her from him, “Like hell you are going to get her you monster.”

“Thought that you would say that.” he points the pistol at Yelena, both Y/N and Yelena's eyes go wide at this, “Come to me Y/N or Yelena dies like the rest and I don't think you want that baby.”

Y/N would look from Yelena to Bob holding the gun, making a fast decision, “I'll go, just don't hurt her!”

Yelena would have no part in not stopping Y/N from going to Bob. But as she ran at Bob, trying to stop him, he would shoot off the gun and right into her shoulder, making her fall back and cry out in pain.

“Yelena!!” Y/N would yell out, running to her, only to have a hand instantly grab her arm and pull her away from Yelena.

“Y...You monster!”

“She'll live, it's just her shoulder.” he sighed at Y/N's comment.

He dragged her off and took her back to the wing where she was put after the birth of their son. Pushing her inside, she would cry out, ready to slap him, but he knew it was coming and dodged it.

“Nah ah ah, none of that baby.”

“I will get out of here.”

“Not without me you won't.”

“And just what do you plan to do Bob??”

“I have figured out a date for our wedding and when its time, I am going to put another son in you whether you like it or not.”

“Like hell you will.”

He backs her into a wall and towers over her, no violent hands on her or anything, just menace in his eyes, “You are mine baby and that is that. Now, for our wedding date.”

“After what you have done, you think I want to marry you?!” Y/N yelled at him.

He just grinned and took Y/N hand and held it, “We will be together forever.”

After all the violence and Bob serving for what he had done, he would now be at the grave of their son who passed away in the hospital due to health complications after birth. Y/N would be with him, standing behind him, pregnant with their third child. As much as she didn't want any of the violence before hand, she stuck by him, restarting their family.