Be Your Shadow
Pairing: Soft!Void x Fem!Reader! Summary: In the aftermath of your first night with The Void you realize just how different it is sleeping with the dark entity. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Reader and Bob (+co) are in an established relationship, this is a morning after fic (which is always fun as heck to write) Smut Warnings: No Explicit Descriptions but there are details in flashback form, References to Unprotected Sex, Voids got tentacles/tendrils (with suckers), Voids cum is inky, Reader has marks all over their body (all consensual), Cock Warming, Biting, Licking, Sucking, Mentions of Tummy Bulge Authors Note: Ever since I got that ask about Void’s cum I had this thought in my head, and now I finally got the drive to write about it! The Void always has a soft spot in my soul, so getting around to this has been so fun :)) hope y’all enjoy. It was rushed lol. (also it's midnight, meaning it's lew's birthday :D) Word Count: 5,237
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a warm, golden haze across the room and painting the rumpled grey bedsheets in soft amber tones. Yet, despite the gentle heat that grazed your skin and enveloped the space, the sensation that pulled you from the depths of sleep was one of profound, otherworldly fullness–a cool, insistent stretch that bordered on the divine, as if your body had become a vessel for something cosmic and infinite. It wasn’t painful or intrusive; rather, it felt like you were being cradled from within, a transcendent embrace that blurred the lines between pleasure and serenity, leaving you sticky, satiated, and curiously refreshed, as though the coolness seeped into your very core to soothe the lingering heat from the night before.
During the quiet hours of slumber, after you’d whispered your plea for him to stay buried inside you–revealing in that unique, chilled completeness he had offered–his cock had eventually slipped free. But he’d stirred just in time, his shadowy form attuned to your every shift, and replaced it seamlessly with one of his tendrils. The sleek appendage had slid into you with effortless precision, expanding gently to plug the warmth of his releases, ensuring not a single drop of him escaped. He had taken a quiet delight in it, feeling the slick smears of his own cum coating the velvety length as it swelled even more, pausing only when your breathed hitched in your sleep, then settling back into stillness as he curled around you once more.
Now, as awareness bloomed, you became acutely conscious of the short, rhythmic puffs of cool air ghosting across your bare back, like whispers from a distant nebula, raising the fine peach fuzz along your spine and sending ripples of goosebumps cascading over your skin. They raced upward, tingling along your neck and shivering deep into your bones, a delicious counterpoint to the overheated flush still lingering inside you from the hours of passion. Your body felt both tender and alive, every nerve humming with residual echoes, awakening completely like a hard reset.
You shifted ever so slightly, testing the boundaries of your position, only to feel the unyielding lock of the form behind you. He curved around your smaller frame like a living shield, a protective cocoon of shadow and silk that molded to your curves with effortless intimacy. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the sun-washed room where dust motes danced in the beams like tiny stars. Glancing downward, you took in the makeshift restraints: his black, smooth tendrils wrapped around your torso and limbs like living vines of midnight velvet, their surfaces adhering gently to your skin with a subtle, sucking pull, like little mouths. They shimmered under the light, iridescent flecks of white twinkling like embedded glitter–miniature galaxies swirling within the endless void of his flesh. This was the same expanse you had explored so hungrily last night, your hands rubbing over the smooth, star-speckled darkness, claws digging in as ecstasy built, your teeth sinking into the flesh as his voice urged you onward: “Finish for me, soak me, mark me as yours.”
The memory sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly, and you bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a soft sigh. Carefully, you adjusted your position, reaching up to trace a fingertip along the glossy surface of the tendril curled around your waist. It was impossibly smooth, like polished obsidian dipped in oil, and as you connected the scattered dots of starlight across its vantablack canvas, a collected pulse rippled through them all. They tightened in unison, a loving squeeze that felt like you were going to be swallowed whole by him, while the one nestled deep inside you expanded with an unconscious wiggle, its suckers brushing teasingly against your g-spot. You clenched back automatically.
A deep hum vibrated through your body, the shadowy entity pressing even closer, his form enveloping you like a cool, silken blanket. His arms–strong yet gentle, their starry blackness flowing like liquid night–joined the tendrils, one sliding just above your breasts to hold you, while the other one dipped below to cradle your ribs, forming a complete harness that made you feel utterly cherished, like you were the centre of his universe. His hand curled around your shoulder, fingers tracing lazily over your collarbone as the other hand burrowed beneath your torso settling between your skin and the mattress, ensuring no inch of space separated you.
“Hope you’re not trying to make a quick escape,” He murmured, pressing his cool, wet lips to the back of your neck, the contact sending a shiver down your spine as he kissed with exquisite gentleness, each one a lingering caress. Then, he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, drawing in the mingled scents of your sweat-slicked skin, the faint lavender from your shampoo, and his own heady musk–a dark, intoxicating aroma like ozone and ancient stars. You tilted your head back, a stuttered breath slipping out, followed by a soft giggle as his lips continued their path, kissing and lick with a worship that made your heart flutter. He seemed intent on savouring every bead of morning dew on your skin, his tongue tracing patterns that left you tingling, as if he were drinking you in like a fresh cup of coffee to start his day.
“Would never consider it…Not after last night,” You replied softly, your voice laced with utter contentment. You noticed how the muscles in his forearms flexed against you, pulling you impossibly closer like he was going to open up and swallow you, his chin slipping onto your shoulder for a better view of your profile. The coolness of him battled the warmth rising in your cheeks, a silent testament to the effect he had on you.
“You liked it that much, hmm? What if it turned out to be terrible?” He questioned, his tone playful yet truly curious, as if he was seeking reassurance without asking you outright. To emphasize, he teased with the tendril inside you, letting its suckers pull lightly at your g-spot in rhythmic tugs, coaxing you to squirm and moan. Your hand flew to the back of his, gripping it as you shifted your legs beneath the duvet, only for him to weave his own cold one between them, locking you still. Your heart raced, your entire being vibrating with rekindled fire–coiling tension and electric shivers radiating from every point of contact, nerves alight as the tendril pulsed, reminding you of his silent claim.
“Could never be terrible…I didn’t event even think there was a chance,” You breathed, turning your head to meet his gaze. He was already watching you, his bright white pupils–pinpricks that dilated into thin slits of adoration under your scrutiny–gleaming like stars in the sunlight. The freckles of light scattered across his shadowy cheeks shimmered, and when he smiled, his teeth flashed briefly–they were sharp and you knew their indentations were spread around your skin.
“Sounds like you had high expectations for me,” He quipped, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. His cool lips made your breath hitch, the sensation like a splash of midnight against your skin, followed by a hum of acknowledgement from you as he pulled back.
“Wasn’t high expectations, it was anticipation,” You corrected, your fingers rubbing soothing circles over the back of his hand, feeling the subtle shift of muscles beneath his skin. The tendrils around your legs adjusted with a soft, wet sound–the suckers releasing from your calves with a faint pop before slithering higher to your thighs, latching onto the fresh expanse of flesh with eager gentleness, like they knew where they hadn’t marked you.
“Anticipation…” The word slipped off his tongue, drawn out as if he were savouring each syllable, rolling them like a secret, “So you’ve been thinking about this for a while then?” He pressed playfully, though a hint of vulnerability underscored it, as if your answer meant everything. You felt another rush of heat, remembering how you’d practically broadcasted your desires last night through fervent touches and breathless pleas.
“Since Bob allowed you to come out and meet me…” You admitted, the words tumbling out with honesty. You recalled the first encounter vividly: the way his darkness had overtaken Bob’s form, sliding like liquid shadow over pale skin until he stood before you as this god-shaped enigma, all vast blackness speckled with twinkling lights. He’d been so gentle then, too–enamoured by your lack of fear, by how you’d sought excuses to touch him, fingers tracing the starry patterns on his arm, marvelling at the silky smoothness. In that moment, three months ago, desire had ignited like a supernova, a cascade of wonders about his nature: would his touch be rough and commanding, or possessive and consuming? Sensual and surprising? Last night had answered all the burning questions–it was gentle yet intense, needy in his softness–and waking to this only amplified the euphoria, making you feel like the luckiest being in existence. He shifted closer, the cold tip of his nose grazing your cheek with a featherlight caress, his lips brushing the hinge of your jaw in a brief kiss before he inhaled deeply.
“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who felt that way,” He whispered, his breath cool against your ear as he burrowed his leg deeper between yours, “The wait was worth it…But now all I want to do is be inside you,” His words were a soft confession, and he opened his mouth to suck at the skin just below your earlobe–gentle at first, then twisting into a pull that drew hot blood to the surface, mingling pleasure with a faint sting as his tongue soothed the spot. He released with a wet pop, streaks of saliva snapping against the pulsing flesh, his pupils dilating further.
“I don’t see that as a bad thing,” You commented, squeezing around the tendril still pulsing against your walls, drawing a low, needy groan from him that vibrated through your back.
“Of course you don’t, you’re absolutely insatiable,” He joked, and you let out a little laugh, playfully smacking the back of his hand while he nuzzled closer, his starry form shimmering with quiet joy.
“You’ve only had sex with me once and suddenly now you think you can jump to conclusions like that? Sounds unfair to me,” You teased, shifting against the tendril as if urging it to go deeper, even though you were already stretched to the brink, its thick tip nudging your cervix with gentle insistence, almost like he was going to slide right past it to fill your womb.
“Mmm, I think I need to remind you that we had sex three times last night and you were still begging for more, so I think my conclusions are valid and accurate, you just think it’s unfair cause I’m right.” He pointed out, with a smirk chasing his words, his breath gliding over your skin like a chilly mist from some ethereal, starlit realm, carrying faint notes of cosmic frost that made your pulse sing in response. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling another wave of heat building beneath your flesh, a radiant bloom that clashed deliciously against his inherent coolness, like fire meeting the emptiness of space and sparking into something alive.
It was true, you had begged him for more last night even though exhaustion was trying to overtake you, your limbs heavy with the sweet ache of overuse, your mind hazy from the repeated crescendos of pleasure that had left you trembling and breathless. He was well aware of how tired you were–his perceptive nature had caught every little yawn you had tried to hide, and every flutter of your eyelids as sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness–yet he’d been taken off guard by your words, your voice a husky whisper pleading just for one more moment of that profound union where he merged with you in ways that defied earthly logic.
No matter how long he had lasted during the three round prior–each one a compilation of building intensity, from the slow, exploratory caresses of the first to the soul bonding, all-consuming rhythm of the third–it was like you couldn’t get enough of him, of the unique way he felt inside you, filling every hidden crevice with a cool, expansive presence that stretched you to your limits without ever crossing into discomfort. His releases had flooded you over and over again, a slick, viscous essence that cooled and soothed, leaving you feeling marked from the inside out, utterly possessed yet cherished.
And then there was the way he looked at you–those white pinprick pupils dilating into wide, adorning voids that swallowed the light into them, reflecting your own desire back at you like twin supernovas that pulled you in deeper. The way he touched you, his tendrils gliding over your skin with featherlight precision, the suckers attaching and releasing in patterns that mimicked the feeling of his mouth, mapping every curve and dip as if committing you into a permanent memory. The way he kissed you while he was fucking you, his cool lips pressing against your with a hunger that he needed to temper because of how much he wanted to consume you, as if this was the only opportunity he would get to worship you, his starry form shimmering with each thrust, the speckles of light across his body flaring brighter in sync with your gasps and moans. It made your head spin, a dizzying whirl of sensations wrapping around you, as if a spell had been woven from the fabric of the universe itself, binding you to crave him alone–his touch, his voice, his everything.
“…I guess you got me there.” You relented quietly, your voice a soft surrender, feeling his hand slip off your shoulder slowly, his fingertips dragging a path downward. They skimmed over the swell of your breast, circling the sensitive peak of your nipple with a teasing lightness that sent sparks dancing along your nerves, coaxing it to harden under his touch like a bud unfurling to midnight’s call. He lingers there just long enough o draw a shiver from you, before continuing their descent, coming to settle with a gentle pressure on the small but noticeable bulge in your lower abdomen, his palm molding perfectly to the curve.
Sometimes he wanted to admit that he could read your thoughts and see everything that went on inside your head–the swirling eddies of desire, the quiet vulnerabilities, the flashes of doubt and pure lust–but he took joy in being aware of your innermost desires, in granting you everything you wanted without you needing to ask him, anticipating your cravings with an intuition that felt almost predestined. And that was the secret that kept you wanting more, this unspoken dance of give and take where he poured himself into you, literally and figuratively, making you feel seen, desired, and utterly complete.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed about it…It’s nice to know how much you want me.” He murmured, pressing down ever so slightly on the outline of his tendril through the softness of your stomach. The subtle pressure made you shiver, the appendage shifting minutely within you, its suckers pulsing, causing you to let out a breathless little whine. It drew your attention back to where the two of you were connected, as you shifted your legs beneath the duvet’s soft weight, feeling the sticky residue of his cum on the insides of your thighs. “And also, to be clear…I want you just as much.” He added in a small whisper, as he pressed a few open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his lips parting to let his cool tongue trace the delicate veins there, focusing on the sensitive spot he had sucked on and mark just moments before. The faint throb of the bruise bloomed under his attention, a sweet sting that he soothed with gentle laps, as he brought his hips forward in a slow, needy grind, letting you feel his semi-hard erection growing against your lower back–a cool, insistent length that throbbed with restrained hunger.
“Maybe we can go for round four in the shower then, since you want me just as much.” You suggested, your tone playful yet edged with genuine invitation, tilting your head up to grant him more space to explore–to kiss and nip with those sharp teeth that grazed so lightly, sending tiny thrills racing down your spine. He responded with a little hum, a sound of pure contentment that rumbled from deep within him, vibrating against you like the distant echo of a nebula’s birth.
“Sounds doable, but that means I’m gonna have to free you from the little trap I’ve woven you in, so brace yourself,” He warned jokingly, his voice playfully humming, as his tendrils began to loosen their grip around you, starting with the ones that had adhered to your thighs. Each sucker released with soft, wet pops that echoed in the sunlit quiet of the room, an orchestra of reluctant parting that left behind imprints on your skin–delicate ovals blooming like ephemeral petals, tender to the touch and tingling with the ghost of his suction, a map of his affections etched in a variety of shades against your flesh.
He took his time with the unwinding, his movements unhurried, ad if he was relishing in the act of release as much as the embrace itself; the silky appendages slithered away with a whisper-soft glide, their star-speckled surfaces brushing against you one last time in a caress that shook along your limbs, until only the tendril nestled deep inside you remained, wiggling and pulsing with a needy insistence, as though pleading for you to envelop it in one final, intimate squeeze–which you granted with your walls contracting around its cool, expansive form in a loving farewell that drew a shared tremor through the both of you.
Only then did he drag it out, taking it as slow as possible, inch by velvety inch, so you could feel every nuanced contour leaving your core–the ridges of its suckers detaching with gentle tugs, the slick slide of it retreating through your sensitive fold, smearing a glistening mix of your shared wetness and his viscous essence along the insides of your thighs, mingling with the sticky warmth already clinging there. When it finally slipped free completely, the sudden emptiness elicited a sigh from the both of you–a soft, synchronized exhale that hung in the air, your body mourning the loss even as a fresh wave of his release began to trickle out.
You turned on your back, the sheets rustling beneath you and cradling your skin, to look at him fully, a smile plastering itself across your lips unbidden, wide and genuine, as your eyes met his. His white pinprick pupils, gleamed like stars caught in the morning light, expanding into wide adoring orbs under the weight of your gaze, his lashes fluttering with a quiet shyness that made your hear swell; his hair framed his head like a halo of midnight, floating with embedded flecks of light that pulsed in rhythm with his breath.
“I’ll get the shower ready,” You said, before leaning up to kiss him. His lips parted eagerly to capture your bottom one between them, nipping with those sharp teeth in a gentle, playful bite that made you squirm, then sucking with a needy softness that coaxed it to swell slightly under his cool, wet attention, earning a gasp from you. Right as he pulled away, his tongue darted out in a soothing lick over the spot he’d claimed, leaving your lips glistening and tingling with the trace of his saliva.
“Meet you there,” He mumbled, as he shifted away from you with graceful reluctance, settling back against the pillows in a sprawl of starry blackness that seemed to absorb and reflect the room’s light In equal measure. His form lounged there, relaxed yet watchful, his eyes tracking your every movement with undisguised adoration, drinking in the sight of you as if you were the only light in his infinite darkness.
As you moved, his gaze lingered on the faint sucker marks trailing along your spine, remnants from where he had held you so tenderly while you rode him the night before, the imprints aligning perfectly against your skin like a assemblage of love bites.
Your eyes, meanwhile, caught on the wreckage that was once your undergarments strewn about the floor in a disheveled pile of torn navy lace, the fabric rent asunder in evident impatience–a vivid reminder of his hazed frenzy that had wrecked through him from going down on you, your arousal coating his face in a slick sheen that had driven him to the brink, leaving him no choice but to rip apart the delicate material with an urgency that almost disintegrated the fabric. The image made you bite into the softness of your cheek, a flush of heat rising anew as the phantom feeling of his hands ghosted over your body, like you were reliving what he had done.
Shaking off the distraction with a soft exhale, you threw the covers off your legs, and shimmied to the edge of the mattress, your skin prickling at the shift from warmth to the cooler air. Planting your feet onto the glossy hardwood floor, you pushed yourself up to stand, only to feel an immediate rush of his cum flood out of you in a thick, insistent cascade, trickling down your inner thighs in rivulets that cooled rapidly against your heated skin, the feeling of it making your knees weaken for a heartbeat.
Quickly, you waddled to the bathroom with an awkward, endearing haste, the sensation of fullness giving way to a slippery urgency that had you giggling under your breath at the absurdity of it all. Rushing inside, you flicked on the light–a soft, artificial golden glow that bathed the tiled space in warmth–before closing the door with a gentle click, sealing yourself away from your lovers eyes so he didn’t see you in the process of pushing out the remnants of the night. You lowered yourself onto the toilet seat, the hard plastic rim biting at the back of your thighs, and let gravity take its course, relaxing your clenched walls.
The soft plops of his cum hitting the water below echoed in the quiet room, feeling the thick strings dripping out as you pushed gently to coax it through you. As you relaxed further, your gaze drifted downward to your thighs, taking in the bruised ovals from his suckers seared onto them–irregular ellipses in shades of deepening plum and dark crimson, wrapping around the contours of your muscles with an artistry that spoke of his careful, loving grip. You extended your legs out in front of you experimentally, flexing them to watch the play of light on the marks, tracing their path all the way up from your calves in a winding trail: some clustered in starry little bursts near your knees, others solitary and bold along the inner curves, yet each one was a testament to how controlled he was, keeping the grip just right so it didn’t hurt you.
But as your fingers followed the patterns higher, you noticed the black smears along your skin–inky trails that started faint, like smudges charcoal dusted across your limbs, and growing far more darker and pronounced between your thighs, where they converged in glossy, viscous streaks that gleamed under the bathroom light like you were bleeding or leaking the midnight sky. His cum, revealed in its true nature: not the warm, pearlescent essence you had half-expected, but a deep, obsidian black, slick and shimmering with an otherworldly iridescence that caught hints of the room’s glow.
You reached down between your thighs with a tentative curiosity, your fingers sliding through the thick, sticky residue that clung there, coating the tips in a generous layer of him. It was cool to the touch, almost refreshingly so, with a viscosity that felt like a gel–silky and dense, like molten obsidian tempered by starlight. Bringing your digits up to your gaze, you marvelled at the slight shimmer it held, flecks of light winking within the deep black that was eerily similar to the ones on his flesh. Separating your fingers slowly, you watched his release stretch out between the space in thin threads, elastic and gleaming.
Then suddenly, a knock echoed through the room, making you just with a start, your heart leaping into a staccato rhythm as if you were startled from a dream, pulling you back to the present with a flush of self-consciousness.
“Hey, do you mind if I open the door?” Void asked, his voice muffled by the wood between the both of you, laced with a hint of concern as if he sensed your momentary solitude and didn’t want to interrupt it without checking in first.
“Sure, go ahead.” You replied, wiping your fingers off on the top of your thigh in a hasty motion, the slick transfer leaving a fresh streak of black against your skin like an abstract painting of nightfall, as though you were hiding the evidence of your exploration.
You listened to the knob twist with a soft, metallic click, the door swinging open on well-oiled hinges to reveal him standing in the entrance, a vision of cosmic elegance, bundled with domestic awkwardness: all your sheet gathered haphazardly in his arms, the grey fabric bunched and overflowing, marred with irregular blotches of black that seeped through in uneven patterns, dark and indelible as spilled ink on cotton. He was shimmering at this point, his entire form aglow, the little freckles of white scattered across his body flaring brighter than usual, pulsing in erratic waves that displayed his embarrassment–a living canvas of starry sheepishness, where each pinpoint of light twinkled like bashful fireflies shaking in his skin.
“I owe you new sheets if the stains don’t come out in the wash.” He stated quietly, his tone a gentle murmur infused with genuine remorse, his eyes glancing down at the mess in his grasp before flicking back up to you, taking in the way you shifted on the toilet, your posture adjusting subtly as if to frame yourself better for his view, open and inviting despite the intimate setting.
“You didn’t tell me your cum was going to look like ink.” You commented teasingly, an attempt to diffuse the tension and lighten the embarrassment radiating from him like heat from a dying star, but it only amplified his glow, transforming him into a human disco ball of cosmic light, the reflections bouncing off the bathroom mirror and scattering prisms across the walls in a dazzling display of his flustered state. He held the sheets tighter against his chest, clutching them like a shield, his pupils flicking away from you momentarily with a little shrug, the movement rippling through his shadowy form.
“I thought you saw it last night when I had let you taste it off my fingers.” He murmured, shifting from one foot to the other in a display of fidgety unease, his bare feet padding softly against the cool tile, peeking up at you through the veil of his lashes to see that you had raised your eyebrows in amused surprise, letting out a little laugh.
“Void…Baby…The room was basically pitch black last night, all I could see was your eyes and freckles.” You admitted with a fond exasperation as you glanced at the sheets again, knowing damn well the stains weren’t going to come out no matter how many times you washed them–deep-set and pervasive, sunken into the fabric–at least they weren’t your favourite set, though now you knew not to put them on the next time you tangled with him in such fervent abandon, a mental note filed away for yourself.
“Sorry…” He whispered under his breath, the apology barely audible, a soft exhalation that carried the weight of his needless guilt, his starry form dimming just a fraction as if to retreat into himself, but you let out a sigh, grabbing some toilet paper to quickly wipe away the excess stickiness from between your thighs–letting it absorb the last remnants–before tossing it into the now-translucent black water below and flushing, the swirl clearing everything away in a rush of sound.
“You don’t have to be sorry. Honestly…I kind of like looking like I lost a fight to a really big fountain pen cartridge.” You joked, which earned a little laugh from him, his shoulders relaxing as the flecks across his skin steadied into a softer glow, his softness peeking through in the way he leaned toward you ever so slightly, drawn like a moth to your flame.
“I do think those sheets are ruined though, so you can just leave them on the ground, and we can deal with it after our shower.” You added, extending your hand out to him, palm upturned and fingers beckoning slowly to coax him in closer. Quickly, he dropped the pile onto the floor with a muffled thud, pushing them off to the side with a gentle nudge of his foot before stepping fully into the washroom and closing the door behind him with a soft latch, his presence filling the space like a comforting eclipse. He turned on the fan with a small flick of his fingers along the switch, the low hum starting up to overtake the silence, ventilating the air with a breeze that carried away any lingering awkwardness.
“Well…Luckily I have the best ink remover for all the stains on your skin.” He said, coming close enough for you to grasp his hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.
“Oh yeah? And what’s this special remover called?” You teased, tilting your head up slightly, now that he was towering over you again, his form a magnificent silhouette of shadow and starlight that made the bathroom feel both intimate and widely infinite; you caught a glimpse of his teeth as he smirk–a flash of predatory affection.
“My tongue, of course.”