#dark!sentry

[mydearzero]

It's Not Just About The Hair | Dark!Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were only meant to dye one guy's hair and get out. How'd you get tangled into this mess? The shadows are creeping and taking over his body, while he is slowly taking over yours.

Contents: NON/DUB-CON, NO Y/N, afab!Reader, reader has hair that is long enough to grip, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, filming, exhibitionism, sex against the window, choking, coming inside, no aftercare, if I missed any warnings please let me know!

3.3K words

uhm so this is not really for the faint hearted sorry not sorry I needed this off my chest. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION PLEASE!!

You should’ve left as soon as your job was done. You should’ve stayed out of Val’s way after she was done with you. Why had you lingered?? 

Okay, maybe you were curious. Could anybody blame you? It’s not every day you get called out to the former Stark/Avengers Tower to dye one dude’s hair for a ridiculous amount of money. Hey, maybe she’d want a touch-up, herself? 

So here you were, hiding under the counter of a bar, waiting for the fighting to be over. The big red guy had already been thrown against the wall you were opposite of. It would only be a matter of time before somebody discovered your hiding place. You were peeking through the crack between the counter and the base of the bar to find a good time to run. 

You saw the young blonde run at Sentry, wrapping her legs around him and tasing his neck. Sentry flew himself to the roof, crushing her against it and dropping her to the floor. Sentry was attacked by the masked woman, along with the knockoff Captain America. 

Red Guardian picked up a barstool, preparing to throw it at Sentry, who’s name was apparently Bob, short for Robert. The guy who’s hair you’d just dyed. So not worth the money. Alexei ran to throw the stool, but was cut off when Sentry ripped the entirety of the bar off the floor and threw it against him. 

Fuck. The countertop had been ripped straight from your fingertips. Parts of the base had cut your fingers, neck and face where it had been roughly yanked out of the floor. 

While the others were distracted, still fighting, you ran behind the next best thing, the column of the stairs. You tried to catch your breath and prayed to whichever god would listen that nobody had seen you. You didn’t dare look at the sound of more commotion. You heard several punches, before they were interrupted by the sound of a mechanical malfunction and bending of metal. Bucky’s metal arm had been ripped straight off him, hit him in his own face and thrown behind him like a piece of garbage. 

The vigilante’s quickly went for the elevator, but not before Val came back from wherever she’d been hiding to give them a monologue. “I’m so glad you were able to catch a glimpse before your, uh, retirement.” 

“Camera crews are assembling. Finish the job, Robert.” Val instructs. You hear the elevator doors close. 

“Finish the job? No.” Robert replied. 

“What?” 

“They’re not a threat to me, so, why do I need to kill them?” 

“You need to do what I say, Robert.” Val’s tone was threatening. 

“Why?” 

“WHY?” Val sounded appalled that he’d even dare ask. 

They argued some more. You looked around for an exit, but besides the elevator, your only hope would be the very open stairs they’d no doubt see you on. You could only hope they’d leave sometime soon so you could get the hell out of there. 

“It needs to be more of a collaboration. The hair for example. Maybe I should’ve had more say.” 

“Don’t let those idiots get in your head. The blonde is great.” Thank you, Val, I did the best I could. 

“You sure? I don’t know, I thought I liked it but now I’m not so sure.” 

“That’s enough about the hair.” 

“It’s not just about the hair.” 

“Well you keep talking about the hair.” 

“No it’s everything! My suit, my name, my missions, I mean.. Why would a god take orders from anyone at all?” 

“I think you’re throwing around the word ‘god’ a bit loosely there.” 

“No, no, because you said I was all powerful, invincible and stronger than a whole team of Avengers, which includes at least one god, so..” Robert trailed off, letting Val fill in the blanks. 

“But I’m starting to think, maybe, you don’t know what I am,” he spoke when she didn’t reply. His words were laced with an underlying tone of malice. 

“Oh, goddamnit” Val spoke under her breath. 

“Or what I’m capable of. Maybe I need to show you.” 

“This is SO… irritating.” Val clicks something behind her back, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sentry grabs her by the throat and flies her against the wall. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp. 

“You were gonna turn on me. Just like the rest of them.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Robert.” 

You see Mel creeping towards them. She sees you, too. She looks confused at your presence, but doesn’t have time to worry about it right now. 

“It’s not Robert you need to be afraid of.” Sentry says as he starts choking Val tighter. Mel picks up whatever Val was holding and points it to the man basked in gold, clicking it in desperation. Sentry immediately falls to the floor, in turn dropping Val. 

“Good girl.” Val says as she sees Mel. “ You came to your senses. Come here help me up.” Mel helps Val off the floor and they scurry away. Mel sends you one last look before deciding it’s not worth her time to worry about you. 

“I want a raise,” Mel says as they walk to the elevator. “Okay, fine. Get cleanup on the body and tell Holt it’s finally time to go lethal on these losers.” The elevator leaves and suddenly, the penthouse is awfully quiet. 

You count to 10 before deciding it’s safe to leave. Cleanup would be here soon and you did not want to be stuck here any longer. You crept towards the elevator, hoping Val and Mel had gone down far enough you wouldn’t run into them again. 

Just as you’re about to press the button for the elevator, your phone buzzes with a notification. 

Bought you some time to get out. Cleanup won’t be there for at least 20 minutes. Get out NOW. 

It was Mel. Fucking Mel who’d roped you into this in the first place. It’s easy money, she’d said. One bleach job + I’ll owe you, her texts had read. Yeah, right. 

Before you’d had the chance to put your phone away there was a deathly grip on your shoulder. You tensed and slowly turned to look at its owner, who you’d up until now presumed to be dead. 

  You gave him a quick once over. His eyes were glowing. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Shadows seemed to be gathering at his feet, ever so slowly creeping up his skin. He brought his other hand up to your other shoulder, turning you to face him. Your knees trembled as you tried to stand still, every nerve in your body yelling at you to RUN. There was something wrong with him. You weren’t a threat. Hadn’t he just used that excuse to not go after the others? 

His right hand slowly went down to your waist, his left traced your shoulder up to your neck. As soon as his bare hand made contact with your skin, no longer on your shirt, you were doused in a memory.  A horrible memory from your past that rattled you to your bones, leaving you breathless. 

No time seemed to have passed as he held you tightly, grip likely bruising. “Where is she?” Sentry spoke for the first time. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, I’m not even supposed to be here,” you stammered. 

“Don’t LIE to me,” Robert yelled, making you flinch. “You work for her. For Val. Now tell me where she went.” 

“I promise, I don’t work for her. It was just a one off thing. I don’t know where she went!” His fingers slowly traced to the other side of your neck, encircling it with his hand. He brought his face closer to yours, inhaling deeply. He let go of your waist to brush your hair away from your face and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re gonna regret lying to me. Val might’ve gotten away, but I’ll show her, show you exactly what I can do.” His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands shot up to his wrist, clawing at it to get it off. 

A dark chuckle left his lips, the shadows still slowly creeping up his thighs. You tried kicking at him to get him to let go, but it was useless. “I’m not… with… Val…” you managed to choke out. 

“Did she or did she not pay you to change up my look? I think that’s the basic definition of working for someone, don’t you?” He loosened his grip on your throat, moving to hold your chin and run his thumb over your bottom lip as you tried to catch your breath. There was a hunger in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. 

“I wasn’t this strong before,” he mumbled. He fisted your hair and tugged it your head backwards harshly. 

“I like how it feels. The strength, I mean. I can see why people get addicted to power.” You had no choice but to look him in the eyes, his grip on your hair unrelenting. His other hand went back to your waist as he tugged your body against his. The hard metal of his belt dug into your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, mouthing at your jugular. You squeezed your eyes shut, begging for someone to come in and save you. 

He was losing himself, losing control. The shadow had made its way to his waist, creeping higher and higher the longer he held you. You could only help it stopped once it had consumed him, leaving you be. It couldn’t be anything good.

He let go of your hair, bringing both hands to your hips and sliding them up your shirt. You froze, holding your breath and waiting for his next move. Surely, he wouldn’t. 

His hands moved higher. He started peppering kisses on your neck, feeling your heightened pulse under his lips. You tried putting your hands on his chest and pushing him away. “Stop, please.” 

“I don’t think I will,” he groaned into your skin. With a flash your back met the wall harshly, head hitting the concrete. His hands cupped your breasts over your bra, his mouth kissing up to your chin. The shadow had reached his chest now. It wouldn’t be long before it would take over his entire body. 

For a second you felt relieved as Robert pulled away, only for it to disappear when you realised he’d done it to rip your shirt from your body. “Robert.. It’s Robert right? Or do you prefer Bob? Please let’s just talk about this.”

He ignored your pleas and went back to ravaging your neck, leaving bruises down to your chest. His hands fumbled with your bottoms, but he quickly lost patience and ripped those, too. You were only left in your shoes and underwear, pleading with him to just talk. 

“I’m not going to talk. I’ll show you. Prove to the world that I’m a god.” He held you close as he flew to the wall of windows overlooking the city. He pushed you against the window, breasts squishing against the glass with the force he was using. 

“Stop, Bob, STOP! Somebody is gonna see!” You tried pulling your body away from the glass. 

“Sweetheart… That’s the point,” he laughed darkly. “Let them see. Let them see what I can do to anybody who gets in my way, who dares to tell me what to do.” He unclasped your bra and pulled it from between your body and the glass. You tried putting your hands in front of your chest, but his hands grabbed your wrists and tugged them behind your back. 

Your mind was reeling with confusion as both of his hands returned to your body, yet you were unable to move yours away from your back. He put his fingers down your underwear and you thrashed your legs to try and get them out. He kicked your legs apart, placing his feet besides yours so you couldn’t close them. He took your hands and placed them above your head against the glass. You wanted to close your eyes, but something was holding you back. You could only watch through the window and see the slight reflection of his golden suit behind you. If you could be glad for only one thing in that moment, it was the fact you were at the top of the tallest building in New York. The likelihood of someone actually seeing was small. 

He tugged at your underwear and you could feel them strain against your hips. He was playing with you. He could’ve easily ripped them, but he wanted you to feel them rub against you before he did so. He tugged them up, the seam putting pressure against your clit. You let out a surprised whimper. “Robert, please. Stop this.” 

The only response you got was the eventual ripping of your underwear, relieving you of the pressure, but leaving you completely naked between his body and the window. He moved behind you, the noise of fabric rustling meeting your ears.

His hands roamed over your trembling body freely, making himself familiar with every dip and curve. They settled on your hips, pulling them backwards and arching your back. You flushed impossibly redder as it made your boobs press against the window even more, obscenely on display for anybody high up enough to witness. 

You felt it, then. His length settled between the cheeks of your ass. He took it in his hand and slowly slid it between your folds. 

“So afraid… Yet so, so wet for me.” 

You wanted to deny it. Tell him to get off and leave you be. But he wouldn’t, anyway. He was right. You were somehow soaked. 

The invisible grip on your hands disappeared, allowing you to lower them and put them flat against the window. You tried pushing off the window once again, even when you knew he wouldn’t budge. 

“Don’t move,” Robert threatened. You turned your face on instinct to look at him. You could only catch a glimpse of total darkness over your shoulder before his hand forced your head to face the window once more. 

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he mumbled incoherently. 

He took himself in his hand and slowly pushed his cock inside. Without any preparation, the intrusion was tight. You winced as he didn’t pause but took his time stretching you on every inch. He exhaled loudly and chuckled when you gasped as he bottomed out. 

He put his hands on your hips and tugged you back against him as far as you could, skin against skin. He pushed you back against the window slowly, his length leaving you as he pulled his hips back. He went so slow it drove you insane. He pulled out fully, stepping back to look at you shaking against the window, not daring to step away or look back. It was only then you’d noticed all the lights in the penthouse had gone out. 

As his hands returned to your body, so did his dick. He set a gruelling pace, pulling your hips against his own. Heat burned in your core. 

“So good. See how good it can be when I’m the one in charge?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you kept quiet. A slap to your ass informed you that was the wrong choice. “Answer me,” he groaned. 

You yelped at the impact before nodding. He grabbed your hair again, bending your neck as far as it could go without snapping. He continued thrusting as he corrected your behaviour. “I said answer me. Now with your words.” 

“Yes!” you managed to get past your lips. Now actual vocal sounds had left your throat, you couldn’t seem to stop. Moans slowly escaped, even when you tried to hold them in. 

“There you go, attagirl.” He released his grip on your hair, choosing to squeeze his hands between the glass to grasp your tits as he fucked you. He used this hold on you as leverage to move faster. He pulled your back against him and pushed both of your bodies against the window. His fingers were cold, so cold as they toyed with your nipples. Must be a side effect of the shadow. 

A low, breathy laugh hit your ears. Your eyes darted around to see why. You looked down at one of the other buildings and saw why he was laughing. Two guys, pointing, one of them recording the whole ordeal. You came back to your senses, once more struggling against his grip and fighting the pleasure. 

“Stop! They’re recording, let me go!” you whined, but even to your own ears it somehow didn’t sound as convincing as it had in your head. The breathless and whiny tone of your voice was contradicting whatever you said. 

“Good, soon the whole world will know about me. And nobody will tell me what to do,” Robert moaned. “Not anymore.” 

You were mortified to find you were getting close. Your fingers clawed at the window, trying to find anything to grip tight as your body was slowly overtaken with pleasure. You bit your lip and felt your eyes well up with tears. 

“Fuck… Maybe I should keep you around…” Bob moaned. “Show you off like a token of my power.” 

You wanted to come up with an answer, to defy him. “Ah- Please,” was all that would come out. What you were pleading for? Even you weren’t sure. 

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, cutting off the oxygen as he held it tight. Your ears rang as you struggled to breathe, blood rushing to your head. 

“Tell me I’m your god,” he grunted. His cock hit the right place again, and again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as your orgasm approached. 

“Say. It.” He emphasised the words with sharp thrusts. 

“God,” you stumbled. “You… You’re my god… Fuck.” 

“One more time, like you mean it,” he teased. “Hmm and I know you mean it by the way you’re clenching on my cock.” 

You couldn’t utter the words, your mind jumbled as he toyed with your breath and pleasure. 

“Too stupid on my cock to even speak,” The Void laughed. He moved his other hand down your front, moving down until he found the missing piece to make you break. 

“Come for me, come for your god,” he demanded as he matched the rhythm of his fingers on your clit to that of his dick. Your hips moved of their own volition, chasing the high. 

His pace stuttered, his thrust going impossibly deep as he came inside of you. It sent you over the edge, all your muscles tightening and knees sinking as pleasure overtook your body. You’d never come so hard in your life. The only thing keeping you standing was him as the aftershocks of your orgasm worked their way through your body. 

He slowly pulled out and you were finally able to turn around and take him in. His features were mostly invisible, except for the eyes. They were still glowing. 

“You should thank me, you know. For allowing you to feel what true power feels like.” 

“Thank you,” you sobbed out, defeatedly sinking to the floor. The Void flew through the broken window he’d sent one of the ‘Thunderbolts’ through, flying above the city to slowly spread his shadows. All the while you could still feel the warm liquid spilling from inside you and dripping onto the floor. 

You only had a few seconds to make yourself scarce before a team of men clad in black with guns stormed out of the elevator. You’d scrambled together the remnants of your clothes and locked yourself in a bathroom, before suddenly you were dipped back into the darkness of your worst memories, just like the rest of New York would soon be. 

[darnell-la]

RELAX MY WAY

pairing: dark!sentry x thunderbolt*!reader

summary: y/n can be easy when it comes to people’s first impression. she thought there could be no possible way Bob was this villain who believed he was a a God that can do whatever he so pleases. she soon found out that was exactly who he was when he took whatever he wanted from her.

warnings: sa, sentry outbreak, fighting, kidnapping, slight bondage (chained ankle), choking, manhandling, etc

notes: PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU DO NOT LIKE CNC! WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOY!

———

“We’ve read this man’s files. She cannot just be alone with this dude. We should just take this guy in together,” Bucky said as everyone got out of the limo that had driven them to the sentry’s welcome party.

“The man went rogue, and he’ll disappear if we don’t go about this accordingly. Once y/n gets on his good side, she’ll convince him to come with her. It’s not that hard,” Yelena said, making Bucky roll his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Bucky. Trust me. I’ll just talk to him for a few minutes, and after, we can all go back to the tower. With him,” y/n said as she massaged the man’s shoulder, trying to get the man to calm down.

“Five minutes alone with him, and if you’re in there a second more, I’m coming in,” Bucky said, making y/n chuckle at how much he does to keep her safe. “Fine,”

“It’s much quieter in here,” Bob said as he locked the door behind him. “The noises can be too much for me at times. Sorry if that bothers you,” Bob said, making his way over to his desk to pour a drink of bourbon.

“Don’t apologize, I get how it feels. I like to be alone most of the time,” y/n smiled as the man, feeling safer than she thought she would. Valentina said Bob was dangerous, yet nothing ever broke out about him. Y/n was begging to think she was lying.

“How about you come over here and sip with me. Night relax, you too,” Bob said. Y/n could hear the group telling her not to through her earpiece, but she decided to ignore them.

“Doesn’t have to be too much if you’re not comfortable,” Bob said as he poured y/n a drink before giving it to her. “I’m comfortable,” y/n kept smiling at the man. He seemed too sweet, shy, and awkward to be as bad as Valentina says.

“So, I saw you came in with some friends today. I believe they work for Valentina, right?” Bob asked, making y/n slightly choke on her drink. “Uh, yeah, I — I do too, but I just wanted to talk, that’s all,” y/n said as she put her glass down.

“I watched you almost all night, and I feel offended that you’ve been hiding that information from me,” Bob said as he placed his glass down as well, and slowly made his way towards y/n.

“Well, I a-apologize for that,” y/n stuttered over her words as she felt her head get light. “Are you? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’ve been trying to reel me in, to like you, to trust you, just so you can stab me in my back like everyone else,”

Y/n began backing up slowly, now feeling her fingers tingle. “I-I didn’t come here to fight, sir, I — Bob?” Y/n asked as she watched his eyes glow. “Go on, princess. I’ve been waiting for your excuse all night,” Bob said, now slowly lifting off the ground.

“G-Guys-“ y/n tried saying into her earpiece, but quickly passed out. Bob used his super speed to catch y/n mid-air and lay her on the couch in his office. “You guys can come in now,” Bob said, knowing the crew was outside waiting to come in.

Within seconds, Bucky kicked down the door, revealing the whole team. “What did you do to her!?” Bucky shouted as his eyes landed on y/n, who was unconscious on the couch.

“Just had a little something spread inside her glass. I already knew you guys were coming, and who you might use to distract me. Great pick by the way. If I didn’t know a thing, she would’ve had me all over the place,” Bob smirked at Bucky, watching as his fists tightened.

“Come with us. You’re done,” Yelena said, making Bob, the sentry, laugh. “I think I’ll be going someplace to relax — With y/n here,” Bucky, causing take it anymore. He quickly launched at Bob with all the energy he had, yet Bob still threw him across the room.

“Get him, get him!” Yelena yelled as everyone began to attack, but within seconds, everyone was on the ground. “Didn’t mean to cut the time so short, but — I’ve got things to do with my distraction. I guess I did become a bit detracted,”

“N-No! No!” Bucky shouted, struggling to get up as Bob made his way over to y/n to pick her up, bridal styled. “Now that she’s up close, I can see why you all sent her after me — Thank you,”

Bob wasted no time to fly through the huge glass window that was already broken from throwing alexi through it while they were fighting.

“Good morning, princess,” Bob said as y/n woke up from her long beating sleep. “What? I- What’s wrong?” Y/n said as she lifted her upper body off the bed she was lying on. “It’s been about a day, hr I think you’ve gotten enough rest. Still had to put some drugs in you to keep you relaxed,”

Y/n’s vision was slightly blurry, as well as her head. “W-What did you do to me?” Y/n asked as she rubbed her face slowly. “Who even are-“ y/n went to say until she remembered everything that happened before she passed out.

“Bob — You’ve gotta let me. They’ll find me, and-“ y/n went to intimidate him, but he quickly cut her off. “And, what? Take me in? Oh, y/n — You must not know how I work,” Bob said as he made his way towards her.

Y/n when to get back up or try to get out of the bed, but she noticed her ankle was chained to the bed. That was the only ugly thing in the whole room that seemed like it had just been made for her.

“You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well relax. I know you want to,” Bob said as he began to take off his shirt, which was confusingly ripped. Almost like he’s been shot at.

“Don’t worry about all of this — I took care of Valentina, and don’t worry — Your friends are fine,” Bob said as he made his way onto the bed, hoping y/n would just relax like he told her to, but she was difficult.

“Hey-“ Bob tried to calm y/n down by pinning her wrists down with his hands, allowing her to get no movement. “Let me go!” Y/n kicked with her free leg, and as much as she could with her other.

“If you don’t fucking calm down- Hey!” Bob began making his way between her legs, making y/n realize she still had her tight dress on, which slightly moved up her body as she tried to fight off Bob. That was definitely not going to happen, but she needed to try something, maybe show him she didn’t want him in her life this way. Maybe that soft side would stop him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Bob used one of his hands to pin y/n’s neck down with his hand, choking her as hard as she could take as his other hand ripped off her panties that slightly showed in her dress.

“You want to be difficult? Fine — Maybe next time, undertake the consequences of distracting me,” Bob said as he reached inside his dress pants, struggling to pull himself out, but soon did.

“No! No, don’t do that! — Bob, no!” Y/n now screamed, only making him choke her a bit hard. “This is your fault. I tried to relax you, but you just fucking refuse — I guess I’ll do it myself,”

Bob quickly pushed himself into y/n, gaining a loud cry from her. “Don’t worry, you’ll get use to it,” Bob said as he pulled out just to push back into her. “You’re already soaking me — Guess I can start up faster than I wanted to,”

Bob took y/n’s free leg and placed it over his shoulder, forcing her into an angle she could barely fight or move in. All she could do was keep up with his brutal pace.

“S-Stop — Please,” y/n begged as she threw her head back and tried to get his grip off of her neck, but that was impossible. Bob pounded into y/n faster every second, just to watch her mouth partner, and moans die in her mouth.

“Get use to this, y/n. You feel to fucking good to let go — I’ll never let you go,”

[trainer-from-unova]

[em1i2a3]

Test Drive

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

Summary: You have a late night encounter with The Void

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

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

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

Word Count: 7,759

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

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

That alone wasn’t new.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the corner moved.

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

Something seeped forward.

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

Bob.

No. Not Bob.

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

But this…This wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

Then he spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Void laughed.

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

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

His hand touched your jaw. Cold. Unrelenting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B–Bob…”

The Void stilled. Just for a moment.

And then he smiled.

Not sweetly. Not kindly.

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

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

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

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

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

You should have.

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

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

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

You didn’t mean to. But you did.

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

Mortifying.

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

His voice dropped into something darker. Amused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your whole body went still.

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

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

You moaned–quiet and shameful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips turned up against your jaw.

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

Your eyes fluttered open–blurry, dizzy, dazed.

His glowing ones were waiting for you.

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

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

His breath hitched.

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

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

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

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

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

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

His smile was carved ice.

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

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

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

Then–his voice, low and demanding:

“So say…It’s a deal…”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

Then he kissed you.

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

And all the while, his fingers never stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasped as he leaned in–and licked you.

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

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

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

And that was when he looked up.

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

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

He saw it.

And he moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

And somehow, that hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded–desperate, whimpering, eyes wet again.

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

That was it.

The wave crashed.

You shattered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Void stilled for just a moment.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes fluttered open, still glassy, still wet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His free hand slipped between your bodies, trailing down.

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

You gasped, eyes widening, your thighs tightening reflexively.

Because he wasn’t just teasing anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pulling you into his lap.

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

Really looked.

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

“Off,” He murmured.

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

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

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

Then–he leaned in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled.

And helped you lower yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, you said it.

“Bob…”

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

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

“Bob—” You moaned, desperate, wrecked.

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

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

“Fuck—Bob, yes—”

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

But you weren’t passive.

You moved with him.

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

He froze. Just for a second.

And you took it.

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

His grip faltered. Just a touch.

And you smiled—broken, breathless, wild.

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

The Void snapped.

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

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

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

And he fucked you harder.

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

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

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

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

But your whisper cut sharper than any scream.

“Then why do you still wear his face?”

He froze.

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

Then he slammed into you.

And again.

And again.

No words. Just motion. Just force.

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

And all you could do was sob his name–

“Bob—Bob—Bob—”

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

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

“More—please, more—”

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

And still, you moaned, “Bob—”

Something inside him snapped.

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

And you let him.

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

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

You tried to fight it. Tried to last.

But your body betrayed you.

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

And you screamed.

“BOB—!”

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

He didn’t moan.

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

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

For a moment, there was no sound.

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

Then–

He kissed you.

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

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

You swallowed–barely able to lift your head.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t correct him.

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

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

You blinked.

He leaned in–kissed the corner of your mouth.

“But your body will remember.”

Then he was gone.

Just like that.

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

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

Your bed was wet with sweat. Your throat burned.

Your lips still tingled.

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

And worse–

The only name in your mouth…

Was Bob.

——————————

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

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

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

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

So you stood.

Naked.

Shaking.

And walked toward the bathroom.

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

Then you looked up.

The mirror didn’t lie.

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

And lower…

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

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

And then you turned the water on.

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

You just showered.

Quietly.

Efficiently.

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

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

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

But you opened the door anyway.

You stepped out into the hallway.

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

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

And then you saw him.

Bob.

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

He looked up at you.

And smiled.

Gentle.

Warm.

Untouched.

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

Like nothing had happened.

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

Your mouth opened.

But you didn’t say anything.

You just nodded back.

“Morning.”

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

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

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

Or if you even wanted to.

[lyrawhite]

Something really funny might happen to tumblr and ao3.

# AVENGERS LIVING IN TOWER ERA

You were missed, you beautiful beast.

[hatussy]

fatal attraction | r.r [dark]

pairing: robert reynolds [sentry] x f!reader word count: 3650 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], sex pollen, dark themes, violence/abuse, non con/dub-con, forced penetration, degradation, multiple orgasms/orgasm denial, biting, choking, knife play/blood, spanking/slapping,

summary: sex pollen, sex pollen, sex pollen. aka: in which you've been dosed

oneshot | masterlist

The scraping of metal against concrete alerts you to a new presence. Your strength has been zapped, barely able to lift your head off the small cot you’ve been lying in for days, weeks even. You lost track of how long you’ve been held captive. The minimal light you did see was from the overhead fluorescents as guards came by to check on you.

Food was scarce. They fed you minimally, knowing if you were well fed and hydrated the chance of you fighting back would increase. So they’d kept you borderline starved, dehydrated to the point your lips were cracked and your head throbbed. Any time they brought down water, it was only a small plastic cupful, never enough to satiate. Never enough to keep you going, but enough that it kept your body functioning.

Even when you asked for more, begged and pleaded with whoever had the job of giving you more water, they never followed through. Agreeing just to shut you up, the disappearing for god knows how long. 

The guard spoke lowly in a language you couldn’t translate. Whether it was because it was a language you didn’t understand, or because you were too tired to put in the effort to try harder, you weren’t sure. Judging by the harsh tone exchanged by the men stationed outside your room, it wasn’t good.

You were desperately holding out hope that the team would find you. That they’d bust through the compound wrecking all kinds of havoc. Every loud bang had you hoping that it was them, that they’d been able to track your location to its last known point.

The thick concrete walls stopped you from being able to use your powers. If you had more energy, more water, you knew you’d be able to reach out to someone. Bucky hated whenever you communicated with your powers, years of mind control was triggering whenever you spoke inside his head. He was out. Yelena also didn’t like it, the slightly older woman finding it creepy. Though you knew if it really came down to it, she’d get over it. She was a maybe. 

Alexei found it thrilling, often more intrigued by your voice being in his head. He got too distracted by the trick, going off on a tangent about how cool and different your abilities were. He was also out.

Ava was your best bet, but that was if you could penetrate the fortress you were held in. You knew it was more than concrete, something stronger that stopped your abilities from working at a distance or even up close.

You’d tried your first day in the cell. Trying to manipulate one of your guards into leading you outside, but he’d just grinned and slammed the door of your cell. Your cage. It had thrown you for a loop that he hadn’t been able to fall for your tricks. The one thing you could always count on was your ability to convince people to do something you wanted them to. Your mind was a weapon, and your captors knew exactly how to weaken you. Knew exactly how to make you doubt your abilities.

You hadn’t been part of the Thunderbolts for long, but the time you had spent with them had been interesting. This mission, the one where you’d been incapacitated and taken hostage, was up there as one of the worst missions. Most of them were decent, where you actually had enough intel and could subdue the intended culprits. Gone are the fucking days, though. 

You wished this mission had been like those – quick and easy, and a hell of a lot cleaner. 

There’s a whirring overhead, the small fan on the roof or your cell humming to life. You watch it spin, your eyes used to the darkness by now. The smell hits you first, a scent unfamiliar to you but you’re too tired to care. Too tired to do anything but continue to breathe in whatever the fuck they’re feeding into your cell. Too tired to try and hold your breath for fear of what’s to come.

At this point in time, whatever they had planned was only going to make you wish you were dead. For now, all you could do was breathe and hope for the easy way out.

It starts as a warmth to your skin. A low and slow heat that tickles your cheeks before bursting to life in your chest. The warmth coursed throughout your entirety, blossoming further down in your abdomen. 

The ache felt never ending.

The deep seated desire was lodged inside you and growing fervently. Bubbling just below the surface, desperate to be released.

You’d never felt like this before. Whatever you’d been dosed with coursed through your veins, causing you to writhe on the bed trying to placate the feeling. Urging it to subside, to give you any kind of reprieve. 

Every time you rubbed your thighs together the sensation amplified, sending you into a frenzy. It felt so good, but it wasn’t helping. It was only amplifying the sensation. You felt like your body was in overdrive and nothing was helping.

Your pulse raced, pounding in your ears. You panted, hands fisting the thin mattress on the cot as you forced your legs apart, fighting against whatever was in your system.

“Fighting only makes it worse.”

The voice was eerie, distant. You couldn’t tell if the person it belonged to was in your cell with you, or if it had come through the speakers on the wall. 

You’re gasping for breath as desire flows throughout your body. The voice is right, though. Fighting it only makes it worse, but attempting to soothe the ache just heightens everything you feel. You’re in a bind and not in a good way. 

Your eyes fly open as you feel a hand against your face, fingers stroking down your skin before they wrap around your neck. Your own hands fly to their wrist, trying to pry the fingers free. All it makes them do is squeeze tighter as their other hand forces your legs apart.

You gasp, unable to speak as your oxygen is slowly cut off. The person cups your sex over your tactical gear, roughly groping you, but the whole body ache you’re experiencing lessens slightly. Instead of a protest, your body reacts graciously, hips bucking against the person’s hand.

“I knew that was what you needed,” the voice taunts and lessens their grip on your neck. You gasp heavily, drawing breath into your lungs as the dizziness dissipates from your mind.

 It allows you a moment of clarity. The person is a man, he’s real, and he’s touching you. You want him to stop, want him to leave. You don’t know him, you don’t want him. But it feels so good. The ache is still there with a vengeance, but now you know how to soothe it. You can take care of yourself, right?

Wrong. 

The hand that was around your neck connects with your cheek, a loud slap echoing around the concreted cell.

“Fuck you,” you spit vehemently, launching yourself to your feet and taking a fighting stance. 

If you were in your right mind, you’d have seen his hand reach out. Feel it wrap around your ankle. You’re shoved up against the wall, the cot creaking as he climbs up onto it and uses his body weight to keep you pinned.

A whimper falls past your lips, his hand roughly gripping your face. You swear you can see a smirk on his face as he presses his body against yours, rolling his hips so you can feel just how aroused he is. You spit at him, disgusted, but your hands are useless. Your body is betraying your mind, so desperate for a release you refuse to give to this man. 

You force yourself to fight, to spit in his face and throw a punch. It takes all of your strength, but you do it. You fail to see the punch he throws back, connecting with your jaw. 

“Stupid whore,” he spits and you swear you can hear a smile in his voice. “It’s going to be fun breaking you in.”

You stagger along the wall, knowing this is the fight of your life, but your limbs are heavy and desire is calling to you like a traitorous bitch. You feel him grab your hair, slamming you into the concrete with a force that has you reeling. 

You feel sluggish, like you’re moving in slow motion. You know that’s not the case. You know it’s whatever is coursing through your veins, some kind of virus. If you had more of your wits about you, you’d know it wasn’t a virus. No virus makes you wildly, insatiably horny. 

Your fingers scrape against concrete desperately, trying to grab a hold of something. Anything. A scream is caught in your throat as he drags your face along the wall, skin catching against the raised, jagged pieces that overhang the otherwise smooth wall. 

He laughs as you flail, tripping over your own feet as he throws you back down onto the cot. You barely have time to recover as he smacks you once more, this time on the other cheek. He tsk’s, gripping your hands in one of his and pinning them above your head. 

“I promise you’re going to enjoy this, kitten.” 

His lips brush over your ear and you pull it back before headbutting him as hard as you can, his legs either side of yours, keeping them pinned. 

He chuckles, your head having only connected with his jaw with nowhere near enough force to injure. At this point, you’re only hurting yourself. 

You feel the cold sting of metal pierce your stomach, the sharp point likely drawing blood as it slices through your shirt. The material is tight against your skin and you scream as it continues to dig into your stomach. It doesn’t feel deep enough to disembowel you, but it’s still not pleasant. The knife pierces and drags through your skin, moving higher, the blade slicing through your bra, nipping at your neck as the last of your shirt is sliced open.

You whimper as he bites the handle of the knife, his hand roughly groping your breasts as he hums, his hand gliding through the blood slickening your skin. It makes your stomach churn, but as he tweaks your nipples, you fail to care. Arching into his touch despite desperately not wanting to.

A pleased gasp falls past your lips and he chuckles once again, gripping the knife and shuffling back so he can cut your pants off you. He pins your knees to the cot, the blade pressing into the flesh over your pubic bone. You hiss as it pierces the skin and he drags it down, cutting away your tactical pants while narrowly missing your sex. 

Still, your body is on fire, aroused by even the possibility of that happening. Of his blade knicking your most delicate flesh. You moan loudly, unabashedly. It only seems to spur him on even more.

He groans appreciatively, maneuvering you so he can pull your clothes off. Leaving your pants bunched at your ankles, but ridding you of your shirt completely. As he either forgets to pin your hands down, or skips over it completely, you take the chance to claw at him. Raking your nails down his face.

His fist connects with your face again. “Get me some handcuffs for this slut,” he growls as you cradle your face, continuing to fight him off as best as you can. It’s clear he has you at a disadvantage, your body continuing to crave a release it seems will be by his hand. Or his cock.

Metal clangs as he catches the restraints, cuffing one hand to the metal frame of the cot before forcing your other into it as well. You buck your hips, desperate to try and continue to fight. Desperate, desperate, desperate.

You’re dripping with arousal. Blood and sweat and grime coat your skin. The ache flowing through your body is crippling. You feel exhausted, beaten and bruised. You know this is only going to get worse, but you’re not in any position to do anything about it. You can’t fight anymore, so you submit.

He drags his fingers through your slickened folds, spreading your lips and robbing his fingers over your swollen clit. You whimper and buck your hips, a desperate “no, please,” falling past your lips.

“I’m only trying to help,” he says condescendingly. “You want me to help, I know you do. I can smell your arousal.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, your whimper betraying you as you feel the knife pressed against the underside of your breast.

He tuts disapprovingly. “You know you want this. Be a good girl and take it.”

He moves the knife to rest against the base of your throat, your pulse spiking and body stilling in response. He seems to like that, you think. Your stomach churns as his hand returns between your legs.

“Stop,” you plead but it’s futile.

He ignores you, slipping two fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan lowly in response, trying to fight the pleasure that relieves the painful ache. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but you know it’s pointless. You know he’s going to take what he wants, and you try to find a happy place to disappear to. You try to steel your mind to block out the assault that’s taking place, but your mind isn’t the weapon it usually is. The pleasure coursing through you renders you powerless to his ministrations. The way his fingers fuck into you, grazing over that spot inside you that has you writhing and gasping. 

“You can cum, kitten,” he goads you. Your body is convulsing in response, pleasure bursting through you and relieving the pain you'd been feeling. 

You moan heartily, feeling it rip through your chest and burst from your lips. 

The ache is still there, still heavy on your soul. A constant reminder that he did this to you, that he’s the one bringing you pleasure despite the hell you’re in.

He adds a third finger, continuing to fuck into you. Stretching you, bringing you over the edge a second time with no chance of protest before your moans were tearing their way from your throat yet again.

You panted heavily, nipples painfully hard. With each breath the tip of the knife dug into your skin a little bit more, but you felt wild. Overwhelmed. Your body was on fire and he was the extinguisher. He was also the ignition source, the reason you were even in this predicament at all. 

“There she is, my complacent little whore,” he praises, stroking your face appreciatively. “Shame what happened to your face.” He tuts disapprovingly, gripping your jaw as he turns your head from side to side. 

You grit your teeth, anger flaring that quickly subsides as he readjusts his hold on the knife. The blade pierced your neck a little more, a little deeper. It’s close to your windpipe, any deeper and you know it’s game over. You know it’s a slow, painful death as you choke on your own blood.

It’s smarter not to fight. 

It’s smarter to just take whatever he gives you next.

“Please,” you whimper. “It hurts so much.”

He’s slowly rubbing your clit, alternating between rolling his fingers over your sensitive, swollen bundle of nerves and slipping his fingers back inside your needy little cunt.

The pleasure starts to build again, the ache turning into something more. Something feral. Primal. 

You whimper as he withdraws his fingers, the blade no longer pressed against your neck. You’re about to complain, about to beg, but you hear the sound of his zipper being tugged down. You feel the bed jostle as you assume he’s removing his pants. His weight no longer pins your legs to the bed and you take the chance to pull your knees to your chest before kicking out at him, hearing him grunt as he lands heavily on his back on the cold concrete floor. The knife clinks as it falls from his hand, disappearing into the darkness.

“I’ll fuck the fight right out of you, whore,” he snarls, his hands gripping your ankles before he straddles your legs again. “You start to cum, I stop. Let the pollen drive you fucking insane. You’re just a little toy for me to play with. I tried to help you, I did. You won’t submit to me and let me take it? I’ll force my way into your needy little cunt. I’ll fuck you with my knife and gut you from the inside out. Is that what you want, hm?”

You shudder, swallowing hard as arousal pools between your legs again. The ache is back with a vengeance, but his words start to sink in.

Pollen. That’s what you’ve been dosed with. That’s what came in through the vents. No wonder you’re wild with desire. Feral with it.

He slides his hand up your torso, spearing your blood around your body. Dipping his fingers into the wounds he’s caused you, making you cry out. His laughter is wicked, fingers sliding around your neck and squeezing as you clamp your legs shut, refusing to give him access. He grunts, wedging his knee between your thighs. Spanking your pussy as he forces your legs open. 

“You’re going to take my cock,” he growls and you feel your head spinning once again. His grip on your neck tight, making it harder to draw breath. Your heart is hammering away in your chest, hips bucking as you feel him pinch your clit harshly.

“Please don’t, please don’t.”

It’s useless. You don’t even know why you tried. You’d only wasted valuable breath. 

You pull at the handcuffs, trying to twist your body away from him, but he’s everywhere. The tip of his cock spreads you open and he’s seated inside you with one harsh thrust. You’re seeing stars, whimpering and struggling and gasping for breath. Praying to whatever God might be listening that someone will come and save you, because it’s obvious you can’t save yourself.

He’s thick and heavy and stretching your needy cunt more than his fingers ever could. Reaching places inside you that have you trying to blink spots from your vision. And he takes you with force, without a care for how you’re feeling. You deserve it, after all. You’re just a warm, wet hole for him to use, just like he told you.

You feel yourself fading, feel yourself struggling to hold onto reality, but it seems as though he wants you conscious. Wants you aware of everything he’s doing to you, because his hand is gone from your throat and your breathing is jagged. It hurts with each inhale, unable to find solace. Unable to find any good with this situation.

Until your body starts to betray you again. Your hips buck as your walls clamp down around his thick cock.

“You greedy little bitch,” he tuts, slipping from your sopping cunt with a sickening squelch. You hear his hand moving against his cock, leaning back in his knees as he keeps your legs open. “You lost the right to cum when you kicked me in the chest.”

You whimper despite your best efforts. Hips bucking up into nothing, desperate for release.

“Please, please,” you beg. “I’ll be good. I can be good. Please, oh fuck. Please.”

You sound desperate. You don’t recognise yourself. You almost cry in frustration, the pleasure subsiding and turning into that god awful ache that won’t go away.

“That’s it, beg like the greedy little cockslut I know you are,” he says. Praises. “Tell me how badly you need my cock. How badly you need to cum. How good I make you feel.”

You cry out in frustration, a broken sob falling past your lips. “I need your cock so badly. Please, please let me cum on your cock. You make me feel so good. Fuck, make  it stop hurting please. Please, fuck, oh please.”

You feel him at your entrance once again, thrusting into you without warning. Your arms strain as you pull against the handcuffs, metal biting into your wrists. His thrusts are fast and rough, grunting as he seeks his own high. His fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, using you for leverage.

You gasp and moan, body floating. Mind wandering. It feels so good– he feels so good. Taking and taking and taking without a care for you and your own needs. He’s giving you what you asked for. What your body craves, but he’s not going out of his way to make you cum again. That’s all on you.

You feel it building, your toes curling in your boots. Your legs hiking higher up his back, trying to angle him where you need him. Feeling his cock press against your cervix has you seeing stars, has your body reacting before you even realise what’s happening. Your orgasm crashing into you so violently, so desperately. You don’t even feel his thrusts grow sloppy. You don’t hear him telling you he’s “gonna flood this greedy little cunt.” You don’t feel him biting down on your neck, but you feel him push your head to the side. His fingers hooked into your mouth, hand pressed against your cheek as he pins you in place. As he cums without a care in the world for you or how he forced his way into your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother to uncuff you as he slides out of you. Doesn’t care to do anything except leave without so much as a look behind him. He does, however, stop to pick up his knife. 

God forbid he leave you with a fighting chance to escape. 

[local-limebug]

i'm loving yelena and bob's dynamic of incredibly dangerous area woman and her pet god.

[bamjio]

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

you're just like an angel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creep, radiohead.

First time making a blurb, kinda nervous

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

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

[itsmetheabnormalone]

Saw a comment on tiktok that said „he didn’t need any more self-help he needed community“ about Bob and I started sobbing bc YES. There’s only so much we can do for our mental health while going through life isolated.

[lovereadandwrite]

shadow of shame, my beloved

[trainer-from-unova]

[astrothedreamdemon]

Guys… who was gonna tell me the thunderbolts* fandom has shipping discourse. Like… the weaponization of the nuclear family trope makes me so sad. Like.. pls keep it a harmless headcanon omg. Like girl if you ship them.. SHIP THEM! WHO CARES!! Bob x Bucky, Yelena x Bob, or they can all hold hands!! It’s YOUR interpretation of the characters!! Why is there shipping discourse?! JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! Its fandom!! OMG

GO AHEAD AND SHIP THAT SHIP! MAKE IT PLATONIC MAKE IT ROMANTIC!! JESUS DUDE DO WHAT U WANT AND IGNORE THE SHIPPING DRAMA OMG!

Like headcanon them the way you want. Ship em how you want. Do what you want. Like obviously dude it’s fandom. Just treat eachother with respect ya know??

I’m getting voltron shipping wars flashbacks

[lyrawhite]

Well. Not going to spoil anything.

But thunderbolts really took me back to avengers 2012.

Writers, bring back avengers living the tower fics!

You all feel the same after watching this movie.

[lagooneah]

I love whatever genre of character this is.

[sjbattleangel]

POV: You are Homelander

[vodissey]

Call of Void