Black Metallic
Pairing: The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader
Summary: When an innocent cuddle session takes a turn, The Void tests your capabilities of being quiet while he explores your body in plain view with only a blanket covering his ministrations.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Reader and The Void (and company) are in an established relationship, The Void is portrayed to have tendrils in this that are similar to tentacles when he manipulates them to be like that (they can suck…But they’re not slick, they’re silky…If that makes sense)
Smut Warnings: Tendril/Tentacle Sex, Semi-Public Sex (happens on the common room couch, and teammates are coming in and out of the place without any knowledge of things happening), Tummy Bulge is Mentioned and Felt, Void puts his hand over your mouth, Overstimulation (reader tears up from the pleasure), Grinding, Begging, Dirty Talk, Tendril Sucking, Cum Eating, Breast Play (with tendrils and hands), The Tendrils Can Expand, Pet Names, Slight Restraint, Bruising, Biting, Scratches, Sucking/Hickeys/Marking, DVP, Aftercare (hopefully I didn’t miss anything)
Author’s Note: Wow, first time writing something like this and I loved exploring this side of things! I may delve into this even more at some point! But for now I hope this was worth the long wait (I’m sorry by the way)
Word Count: 8,463
“Void, you’re freezing–will you please let me turn on the heated blanket?” You asked, your voice a gentle plea threaded with fondness and a touch of shiver-induced exasperation, as he huddled even closer, his shadowy form molding against yours like ink bleeding into fabric. His face nuzzled deep into the plush warmth of your chest, his cool cheek pressing firmly against the rhythmic pulse of your heart, as if he were attuned to its every secret whisper–eavesdropping on the beats that quickened subtly under his touch, a telltale flutter displaying the way his presence stirred you from the inside out. The ethereal chill of his skin permeated through the thin, loose weave of your t-shirt, wrapping around your torso like a persistent mist, sending involuntary tremors cascading through your muscles that no amount of clenching or shifting could fully dispel. Even the blanket draped haphazardly over your lower halves–soft and insulating–offered only a fleeting barrier, its residual warmth seeping away as his body drew it in greedily.
It was everyone’s rare day off in the Thunderbolts compound, a fleeting oasis amid the relentless grind of missions and debriefs, and you had claimed it wisely, determined to vanquish the towering backlog of mission reports that had loomed over you like a travelling storm cloud. Valentina’s incessant prodding had been a constant itch at the back of your mind for the past month and a half, her sharp reminders echoing in your ears like distant thunder, and you were planning on eradicating it as soon as possible.
You had sought sanctuary on the common room couch, its deep cushions cradling you as you powered through the digital stack on your tablet with a heated blanket draped over your legs that hummed softly, warding off the ambient coolness of the room. Then The Void had materialized, like you had somehow heralded him by being comfortable.
He had been merciful in his timing, and he wordlessly curled up onto the couch with his head resting in your lap as you typed away, his silky, obsidian hair spilling across your thighs like living shadows that shifted with every breath he took. From time to time, you would pause to thread your fingers through those strands, feeling them respond with an almost sentient eagerness–tangling around your digits in a soft, possessive grip, as if reluctant to relinquish the warmth of your touch before finally uncoiling. He could sense the tension building in your nerves, the stress spiking like static electricity through your system, yet he held back, granting you the space to focus.
It was an immense effort on his part, his own essence–a turbulent sea of shadows and urges–warring against him, tempting him toward more intimate distractions. To temper it, he tuned into the mundane chatter drifting from the kitchen, where the rest of the team bantered over coffee and snacks. Their conversations were banal to him–discussions of past ops, and light-hearted jabs–but occasionally a sharp quip would land, drawing a low chuckle from deep within his chest, the vibration rumbling through your lap like a distant echo. It was a fragile anchor, better than surrendering to the silence call of your proximity as he waited with predatory patience.
The instant you set the tablet aside to charge though, his restraint fractured. He allowed you barely a heartbeat before drawing you down into the cushions with him, his form enveloping yours in a tangle of limbs and shadows. By then, he had already deactivated the heated blanket, attuned to the sweat that creamy across your skin, your body overheating from the dual strain of concentration and his nearness. Your scent–sweet, and cloying, and laced with the subtle damp musk of exertion–had been assaulting his senses, driving him to the brink, a heady fog that clouded his thoughts and ignited his cravings. You had yielded without protest, prioritizing his comfort in that selfless way of yours…
But now, entwined in his chill embrace, you rued that generosity.
”You’re warming me up perfectly…I don’t need artificial heat,” He breathed, his voice a low, resonant timbre that thrummed through your bones. His arms constricted around you with deliberate firmness, pulling your flush against the cool expanse of his body, while his soft, sinuous tendrils began to awaken. They threaded around your legs and thighs with languid intent, the silky lengths gliding over your skin, their tiny little suckers–subtle, puckered nodes along their undersides–tugging gently at your flesh, leaving faint, tingling imprints like ephemeral kisses that bloomed into an array of marks.
All he desired was to encompass you, to claim every inch of exposed skin, to bridge the infinitesimal gaps until there was no distinction between you. He yearned to dissolve into you, to inhabit your warmth, to fuse into a singular entity–and soon, he would execute the plan to seize that union.
“I’m sure I am…But now I’m getting cold because you’re leeching off all my body heat,” You pointed out playfully, even as a shiver betrayed you. A deep hum vibrated from his core, resonating through your frame like a tuning fork, before he maneuvered you with effortless grace. His tendrils coaxed your legs apart, widening the space between them as he settled firmly into the cradle of your thighs, his substantial weight bearing down, compressing you into the couch’s yielding cushions until they puffed around your forms. You wriggled instinctively, a light giggle bubbling up as the pressure stole your breath momentarily, before you draped your arms over his broad shoulders, gasping softly to regain your composure. He nuzzled back into your chest, purring–a low, feline-like rumble that sent delicious vibrations skittering across your skin–at the deepened intimacy.
“How about I open the curtains and let the sun in? I’m sure that’ll warm you up instantly,” He suggested, lifting his gaze just enough to meet yours. His wide, luminous white pupils gleamed like twin beacons in the dimness, piercing through the perpetual shadow veiling his features, holding your captive as he awaited your verdict. You reached up, brushing back the soft silky waves of hair from his forehead–feeling the strands curl briefly around your fingers in a tender grasp–revealing the constellation of pinprick freckles that shimmered faintly in the subdued light of the living room. A small smile graced your lips, followed by an affirming nod.
“I guess that’s a good compromise.” A flash of teeth glinted in the obscured depths of his face as one of his tendrils unfurled from his back. It slithered across the floor with fluid elegance, coiling toward the shrouded windows and parting the blackout curtains with a gentle sweep, unveiling the radiant expanse of the afternoon sky.
Sunlight poured in, bathing the room in golden hues, and transformed him in mesmerizing ways: The Void neither absorbed nor reflected the light fully, persisting as an ethereal chasm amid the brilliance, a silhouette of infinite darkness. Yet his freckles ignited, becoming effervescent specks of radiance, as if he harboured captured supernovas within his form, glowing with an inner luminosity that made him seem like a walking galaxy. It was a vulnerable revelation, one he rarely permitted in company, but he was always too captivated by you to care about anyone seeing it.
In mere seconds, his skin began to draw in the sun’s warmth, the chill dissipating in incremental waves that transferred back to you, starting as a gentle bloom in your belly, rising to envelop your chest, then flowing outward to suffuse your limbs. The two of you melted into a shared cauldron of heat, his chin now propped against your chest as he regarded you, his eyes dissecting every nuance of your expression–the subtle parting of your lips, the quickened rise of your breath, and of course the small little flutters of your lashes as you took him in as well.
You lifted a hand to caress his cheek, your fingertips tracing the elegant bridge of his nose, the outline of his eyes, the subtle fullness of his lips, and the edge of his jaw. He leaned into the touch with a contented sigh, his breath a cool zephyr tinged with warmth now, while another tendril venture upward along your side, beseeching attention. You granted it readily, extending your hand to let it interlace through your fingers, its cool, velvety texture squeezing and undulating against your skin like a playful serpent, autonomous yet intrinsically bound to him.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in the sun?” You asked curiously, your voice soft with awe. He sighed, his chin shifting against your chest in a subtle nod, his eyes fluttering closed as your unoccupied hand trailed over his once more, before reopening to lock onto your gaze, his lips curving into a smirk that revealed a hint of his sharp teeth.
”A multitude of times…But even when you don’t say it, your eyes always give away,” He joked, his tone warm and teasing. You arched your eyebrows, tilting your head as a light laugh escaped you, your fingers persisting in their gentle strokes along his features.
”How?” You questioned, intrigued. He sighed deeply, the sound laced with affections, and the tendril entwined with your hand guided it aside tenderly, clearing the path as he shifted upward. His body glided against yours with deliberate friction, bringing his face mere inches from yours, his eyes scanning the delicate flutter of your lashes under his intense scrutiny. Meanwhile, the tendril began its ascent along your arm, coiling slowly from wrist to elbow, its length gripping your skin with the subtle pull of its tiny suckers, leaving a trail of tingling warmth and faint semicircle impressions that heightened your awareness of every inch it claimed.
”I wish I could show you, but then I’d be giving away top secret information and you’d find a way to shield your thoughts from me…And I just can’t let that happen,” He teased, his voice a husky murmur that washed over you. He leaned in closer, his breath now heated from the sun’s infusion, mingling with yours in intimate puffs, carrying a faint, metallic tang that was uniquely his, enveloping you in a cloud of closeness that made your pulse race. His gaze roamed your face with unabashed admiration, tracing the curve of your cheeks, the bow of your lips, and the way the sunlight danced in your eyes, committing every detail to memory as if you were a masterpiece unveiled just for him.
”I’m not aware when you’re reading my mind anyways, so I don’t think I would be able to hide what I’m thinking even if I tried,” You whispered, your words breathy under the weight of his proximity, earning a rich laugh from him that hummed the narrow space between you.
”I’m surprised at that…” He started, his hand gliding up and down your torso with short strokes, his cool fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your t-shirt, teasing the sensitive skin above your shorts’ waistband before dragging upward to circle your navel slowly, the touch igniting sparks that radiated outward, “You’re a strong-willed woman; I figured you would’ve been able to lock me out of that brain of yours by this point.” You could hear the grin in his voice, feeling it press against the curve of your neck as he kissed just above your pulse, his lips parting to graze his teeth over the tender flesh until it stung with exquisite sharpness. You hummed in response, squirming beneath him as the tendrils around your legs constricted with gentle insistence, repositioning them higher around his torso, their suckers pulling and releasing in rhythmic pulses that sent shivers racing up your entirety, before they inched up higher, tracing the delicate hem of your shorts with teasing precision, the cool silk contrasting the growing heat pooling between your legs.
“Maybe I don’t want to lock you out…Maybe I like the fact you know exactly what I’m thinking at all times,” You murmured breathlessly, your voice hitching as he tugged at the collar of your t-shirt, exposing the slope of your shoulder to his explorations. His lips descended there, inhaling deeply–drawing your scent into his lungs like a vital elixir, the action sending a fresh wave of goosebumps across your skin.
”What else do you like about me?” He asked, his tone dropping to a gravelly whisper, coaxing one of the tendrils to venture beneath the hem of your shorts. You arched off the cushions at the ticklish, electrifying glide, the appendage settling against the inner curve of your thigh, pulsing warmly, its suckers adhering to the soft flesh in a possessive hold that made your core clench in anticipation.
“Everything…” You exhaled, the word a surrender as the tendril around your arm unraveled slowly, freeing your hand to roam the broad planes of his back, your fingertips tracing the subtle ridges where his shadows formed the plush muscle. Your other hand laced through the hair at the nap of his neck, tugging gently as he shifted above you, his erection grinding against your core through the thin barriers of fabric. His lips peppered your skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses, sucking along your jawline and leaving glistening trails that cooled in the air, heightening the contrast. Your stomach twisted with need, a coil of heat tightening as you squirmed, feeling shivers cascading up your spine until they blared into full-body goosebumps. The tip of the tendril on your thigh traced perilously close along your bikini line, a featherlight tease that made your breath stutter.
When he registered the absence of underwear–a bare, inviting vulnerability that you didn’t even think about until now–his thoughts surged with raw hunger: how effortlessly he could claim you right there, slipping into your warmth without preamble. But he restrained, savouring the build, attuned to the arousal simmering within you, the dampness that had begun to soak through your shorts, its musky sweetness saturating the air around him–you were holy wine to him and he was the sinner waiting to drink you down, patient and confessional in a way. He could sense every quiver of your walls, every anticipatory flutter, as he ground against you again, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.
”You’re the only person that has said that to me…You know that, right?” He mumbled into your shoulder, nipping tenderly at the flesh, his teeth leaving faint indentations that throbbed with a delicious ache. You nodded, your response a soft affirmation lost in a gasp.
“I do…” You replied, your voice threading through the haze as he rolled his hips once more, the pressure eliciting a hitched breath, your lashes fluttering shut at the exquisite grind. The tendril’s tip danced just beside your aching core, a maddening proximity that amplified the slick heat gathering there, your body displaying its eagerness with every subtle clench. He inhaled deeply again, drawing in your intoxicating scent that now mingled with the saltiness of your skin, before letting a long shuddering sigh escape him. The sound vibrated low in his chest as a shiver rippled up his spine, triggered by the slow drag of your nails along his back.
The sensation was electric, your fingertips tracing the subtle contours where his shadowy form granted you the feeling of muscle and sinew, leaving faint trails of warmth in their wake that contrasted sharply with his inherent coolness that even the sun couldn’t stave off for long. Your body arched toward him instinctively, a graceful bow that pressed you against his frame, your hips bucking with needy insistence to feel the firm ridge of his erection grind against you once more. But he pulled back just enough to deny you, a teasing retreat that left you whimpering softly, the air between you growing with frustrated anticipation.
Just as he parted his lips to murmur something filthy–words that would’ve unraveled you into feral abandon–an eruption of raucous laughter burst from the kitchen, echoing through the halls like an unwelcome intrusion. The sound sliced through the haze of intimacy, pausing the escalation in its tracks, yanking you both from the cocoon of desire. Even the tendril poised devastatingly close to your throbbing core halted its teasing glide, freezing in place as if it attuned to the shift. Your eyes met his in a shared moment of startled awareness, the luminous white of his pupils flickering with a mix of annoyance and calculation.
You slid your hands to his chest, your palms flattening against the uneven, otherworldly rhythm of his heart–a staccato beat that thrummed erratically under your touch, more like the pulse of distant stars than a mortal organ. His breath fanned hot over your face, stirring the fine hairs at your temples as his gaze darted sideways, tuning into the distant chatter like a predator assessing threats. He listened for any telltale footsteps approaching the common room, but the voices remained contained, a distant hum of camaraderie that, for now, posed no immediate risk to intruding.
“We should move to the bedroom…” You suggested quietly, your voice a breathless whisper laced with practicality, even as your body trembled with want, “Before this gets even more heated than it already is.” You added, his eyes trailing back to yours, as he wrapped his cool fingers around one of your wrists, lifting it from his chest to guide it to his face. He held it there until your palm cupped his cheek, the silky tendrils beneath your t-shirt inching higher, coasting along the faint ridges of scars that mapped your skin–souvenirs from past missions–before settling just beneath the swell of your breasts, their suckers pulsing against the plush flesh. He shook his head, a subtle denial that sent his hair brushing against your fingers like velvet.
”We can be quiet…If we move around so I’m behind you, nobody will suspect a thing…Unless it’s too much trouble for you to hold back your noises…” The challenge in his tone sounded like a dare, igniting a clench deep in your stomach, a stirring heat that coiled tighter as the tip of the tendril beneath your shorts finally stirred back to life. It delved between your dripping folds with agonizing slowness, sliding through the slick evidence of your arousal, parting you with a wet glide that spreads your essence upward to circle your swollen clit before retreating to tease your entrance once more.
Around and around it swirled, the cool silk smearing your wetness in glossy trails, each pass heightening the ache until you could feel the fabric of your shorts saturating completely, the dampness clinging to your inner thighs like a second skin. The tiny suckers along its length tugged gently at your clit with every rhythmic pull that sent sparks shooting through your nerves, making your squirm uncontrollably, a small whimper escaping your lips–barely audible, but potent in the charged space between you.
“Wh-What if someone comes in?” You asked, your voice fracturing as you closed your eyes tightly, surrendering to the onslaught. The tendrils coiled around your breasts, squeezing with exquisite pressure, their tips flicking over your overly sensitive nipples in tandem, the suckers latching on with insistent tugs that mimicked a hungry mouth, drawing out peaks of pleasure that made your back arch off the cushions.
Meanwhile, the one between your thighs burrowed deeper into your folds, thickening palpably, pulsing with a promise of expansion that teased the girth it could achieve–the way it could stretch you open with a single, unrelenting push, filling you to the brink where fullness bordered on overwhelm. The air grew thick, your skin flushing hot under the sun’s gaze, every sensation amplified: the cool silk contrasting your fevered heat, the subtle vibrations from his purring rippling through you, the faint copper like tang of his breath mingling with your gasps. The two of you rarely indulged like this, even though you were always open to it–so when the opportunity arose, you never wanted to waste a second, especially if relocating to privacy would shatter the electric urgency.
”We’ll pretend we’re taking a nap.” He replied, his voice dripping with amusement, before he began to shift off you with fluid grace. The tendrils on your breasts and between your thighs extended seamlessly, lengthening to maintain their intimate hold as he maneuvered you onto your side, positioning himself behind you in a spooning embrace that felt both protective and possessive.
You felt the silky glide of another tendril snaking down your leg, wrapping around your ankle slowly–a slight restraint that lifted your limb just enough to grant him unfettered access, parting your thighs wider beneath the blanket’s concealment. The sensation was intoxicating–the cool silk binding your skin, the suckers adhering with faint pops that left little oval like marks that stung and tingled, holding you open in a vulnerable invitation.
”Like they’ll believe that we’re napping with the sun blaring through the windows…They’re not stupid,” You breathed, the words tumbling out in a haze as he wrapped one arm around your torso, while the other slid beneath your neck like an improvised pillow, pulling your back flush against the cool solidity of his chest. His tendrils tightened around your breasts once more, the suckers teasing your hardened nipples with featherlight ticks and pulls, sending jolts straight to your core where the ache built relentlessly.
”Doesn’t hurt to try…” He whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear before descending to kiss along your neck, sucking the skin there until the heat of your blood raised to the surface leaving hickeys that throbbed under his attention. He held you impossibly close, intertwining his legs with yours in a tangle of limbs, the friction of his erection pressing against your ass as you ground down onto the tendril still slipping through your folds. It glided with obscene wetness, the slick sounds muffled by the blanket but vivid in your ears. “And you seem eager to please,” He added, his tongue licking a slow, cooling path of saliva just below your earlobe, the wet trail evaporating in the heated air and sending shivers over your sweat-dampened skin. Your core fluttered wildly, the gentle suction on your clit easing only to build again as he nudged the tip back to your entrance, pressing in just a fraction, making your walls clench around nothing but promise.
“Void…” You gasped, the plea escaping as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling you like a drug, his free hand roaming to trace scratches down your thigh–drawing light, stinging lines that bloomed into raised welts.
“Do you want it?” He cooed, his voice a deep, rumbling vibration that resonated through your back, sending shivers across your overheated skin, “Tell me, my sweet little star…Beg for it.” His tone deepened to a gravelly command, as his arm tightened around your torso, pinning you against him so you couldn’t squirm away or impale yourself further on the teasing tendril.
You settled your hand on his forearm, your nails digging into the soft, yielding shadows of his flesh, carving crescent moons into his form as a desperate tightness seized your chest, flooding your body with aching despair. You needed him–craved the fullness, the invasion, the utter consumption–and the frustration of his merciless teasing swelled within you like a storm, building until a glassy film of tears blurred your vision. Tilting your head back to rest it against his shoulder, you exposed more of your neck to him, and he seized the opportunity without hesitation, dragging his sharp teeth along the taut column of your throat. His cool tongue followed, gliding over the blooming marks he’d already inflicted–stinging bites and hickeys that throbbed under the soothing laps, a contrast of pain and relief that made your pulse stutter as he waited, patient and predatory, for your surrender.
“Void…I need you, I need them…Please, I need you inside me,” you whispered, your voice a fractured plea that barely cut through the haze, your grip convulsing on his forearm as the tip of the tendril slipped in just a fraction more–but it delivered only torment, and it was nowhere near enough to quench the fire raging in your core.
“I think you can do better than that…” He taunted, his breath hot against your ear as he circled the tip languidly, stirring your slick walls with deliberate slowness, watching with dark satisfaction as you writhed and pushed back against him. He secured you even tighter, his body an unyielding cage, while everything constricted in perfect synchronization–the tendrils coiling around your breasts squeezed with exquisite firmness, their suckers latching onto the sensitive skin surrounding your nipples, pulling with rhythmic insistence that left blooming bruises, deep imprints that ached with every heartbeat. The restraint around your ankle tugged gently, holding you open even more. The sensations collided like a tempest: the cool silk gripping your flesh, the stinging pull of suckers, the relentless tease at your entrance–all coalescing into a heady cocktail of pure, unbridled lust that scorched through your veins, igniting every nerve ending until you felt like a live wire, ready to snap.
“Actually…I’ve heard you beg far better than that with less coaxing…So should I completely pull away? Remind you what you’ll be missing?” He teased, feigning a subtle shift backward, the tendril retreating just enough to make your body flinch in panic, your hand clawing at his arm to anchor him, desperate to maintain the press of his cool form against your fevered back.
“No. No, please…You can’t say shit like that…I’m…I’m doing my best.” You could feel his lips curve into a wicked smile against your shoulder, his tendrils pulsing in response, a subtle thrum that vibrated through you.
“I’ll give you one more chance.” You let out a huff of disbelief, the sound edged with frustration. Sometimes he was absolutely torturous, especially when he held the upper hand, knowing precisely which buttons to press to wring the most desperate pleas from your lips. This was one of those moments–he craved your vulnerability, wanted to hear you teetering on the brink of tears before he yielded to the shared hunger. He needed to feel desired, to revel in the power he wielded over your pleasure, cupped in the palm of his shadowy hand.
“I need you to use me…I need you to fill me until I can’t fucking think. All I want to see is darkness, and all I want to feel is you. I don’t want you to hold back from me, I want it all, and I know you can give that to me…Show me no mercy and take what you want…And give me what I need, please.” Your throat constricted around the words, a single tear slipping from the corner of your eye, tracing a hot path down your cheek as the blanket shifted higher, cocooning your intertwined bodies in a deceptive shroud of innocence. He hummed against your skin, the sound a low, approving vibration that sent shivers racing down your spine.
“That’s a good girl…That’s much better,” He praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he caressed your stomach gently, his cool fingers tracing soothing circles over the taut skin. Before you could draw breath to respond, the tendril surged forward, slipping deeper into you with a slick, expanding glide, its ridges of tiny suckers dragging along your inner walls like velvet hooks, tugging and releasing in rhythmic pulls that ignited heat along every inch of your body. A raw gasp tore from your throat as he held you immobile, his own breath hitching shakily against your neck, reveling in the way your walls pulsed and clenched around him. He pushed onward, filling you completely, stretching you with exquisite fullness as the appendage swelled further, its surface slick from your arousal, easing the invasion.
The suckers tingled against your g-spot, a pulsating rhythm that sucked gently at the sensitive bundle, pulling waves of pleasure from deep within. When the thickened tip finally nudged your cervix, it dragged downward along the plush flesh, a deliberate stroke that made you whimper, the sound muffled against his palm as his arm shifted, his hand clamping firmly over your mouth to stifle the inevitable cries.
You were overwhelmingly full, a delicious pressure that bordered on too much, and he held the tendril there for agonizing moments, letting it pulse and suck, dragging insistently along your cervix to stir molten heat through your lower belly. Your arousal dripped around the intrusion, coating your inner thighs in glossy trails that added to the damp cling of your shorts, the slickness facilitating every subtle twitch. Void’s lips mapped your shoulder, biting into the yielding flesh with sharp nips that bloomed into bruises, sucking greedily as if to devour your essence–drowning his senses in the salty tang of your skin, meshing with your consciousness to feel the echoed pleasure racking your body. Your mind raced in fragmented bursts, unable to latch onto a single coherent thought; you were already unraveling, fucked into a hazy stupor without a single thrust.
He ground against your ass with a low growl, seeking friction for his aching erection, and slid his hand to your lower abdomen, guiding you to press back against him even more. In that intimate move, he felt it–the outline of the tendril bulging through your skin, thick and pulsing, warm with your shared heat–and he paused, utterly enamored, his breath escaping in a shaky exhale. He flicked the tendril inside you with a subtle twist, eliciting a muffled moan that vibrated into the meaty warmth of his palm, the bulge shifting visibly under your skin.
“Put your hand here…” He whispered, tapping the spot where he’d traced himself moments ago. Your mind swam in fog, the command registering dimly, but you obeyed, relinquishing your grip on his forearm to press your palm where his had been, feeling the unmistakable swell. Your walls clenched instinctively around him, a vise-like squeeze that drew a hiss from his lips, and you brought your free hand up to tug his covering palm downward slightly, just enough to gasp.
“Is that you?” You asked, voice laced with amazed overwhelm, the depth of him–buried so profoundly–sending fresh tears pricking at your eyes. He nodded, his silky hair tickling the side of your neck.
“Mhm…You’re so wet and stretched out that I can go as deep as I’d like…” His words were a husky murmur as he moved inside you again, the bulge rippling beneath your palm, earning a small, desperate mewl from your lips as it rubbed more insistently against your cervix, grinding deeper into the sensitive barrier. “It’s fucking perfect,” He complimented, his cool breath fanning over your skin despite the inferno ravaging your body, scorching your nerves like molten lava submerging you whole. He laid his hand atop yours and pressed down firmly, amplifying the sensation as the tendril withdrew slowly, pulsing and swelling to invade every crevice, the suckers kissing your walls with gentle tugs that sparked electric jolts through your core.
“Think you can take another one?” He asked, rubbing his nose just below your ear in a tender nuzzle, wiggling the tendril enough to pull at your g-spot, your walls convulsing around it from the overwhelming stimulation as you nodded frantically, squirming against him with a desperate whimper. The hand over your mouth shifted to caress the side of your neck, tilting your head further to grant him more canvas, his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your damp skin, licking away the fresh sheen of sweat with a hungry sweep.
“I need you to use your words, or else I’m not going to give you what you need.” Your mind fractured further, words eluding you; attempts to speak dissolved into pathetic whines. The tendrils around your breasts constricted sharply, stealing your breath in a gasp before you inhaled raggedly.
“O-one more,” You forced out, the words splintered, and he rewarded you with a bite–teeth sinking into your shoulder as a second tendril slithered up your leg, tracing the slick path of its predecessor, slipping beneath your shorts’ hem. He shrank the first slightly to accommodate, then thrust the newcomer in alongside, stretching you to your limits in an instant. Your head snapped back, eyes squeezing shut as he clamped his hand over your mouth preemptively, muffling the guttural cry that clawed up your throat.
“Fuck,” the word distorted against his palm, but he understood it perfectly, his voice a soothing growl.
“You feel so good around me…” He complimented, and then the tendrils began to move in earnest–a scorching rhythm of alternation, one plunging deep as the other withdrew, their suckers pulling gently at your walls with each glide, kissing the sensitive flesh in wet, rhythmic tugs that amplified every sensation. The air thickened with steam, your bodies slick with sweat under the sun’s relentless gaze, the faint sounds of teammates drifting in and out of the common room–oblivious footsteps, casual chatter–only heightening the illicit thrill. He ground against you in sync, his erection rubbing insistently against your ass through fabric, seeking relief in the plush give of your curves, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.
With each thrust, you pressed your hand harder against the shifting bulge in your tummy, feeling the dual fullness ripple under your palm, but all you could do was squirm, words stolen by his muffling grip, your body a vessel of pure sensation–the cool silk invading, stretching, sucking; the stinging bites on your shoulder.
“Is it getting hard to think?” He teased, his voice a dirty whisper as you met one of his grinds with a desperate arch, the softness of your ass adding exquisite pressure to his throbbing length. You nodded frantically, tears spilling freely now. The Void’s self-control dwarfed yours, but even he teetered on the edge–the scent of your arousal saturating the air like holy wine, tangy and sweet on his tongue despite the distance, drool pooled in his mouth as he salivated for your essence. Your hand reached up to thread through his hair, tugging the silky strands in desperation, and his tendrils swelled further within you, stretching until resistance met, then held that girth as he accelerated, the thrusts pounding deeper, harder.
His hand slipped from atop yours, trailing down to the waistband of your shorts, hooking fingers beneath to shove them down just enough to expose the bare curve of your ass to him. With a swift motion, he pushed his own pajama bottoms lower, freeing his thick erection to press skin-to-skin against you–the cool, velvety length nestling against you, throbbing with need. He tugged your top up slightly, baring more of your back to his chest, the direct contact sending shivers through you both as you tilted your head back, a grunt escaping despite his palm. Your walls pulsed and clenched wildly around the invading tendrils, your thighs attempting to clamp shut only to be pried apart by the restraining appendage, the exposure heightening every glide.
You were teetering on the precipice, and he knew it–your body’s tells were inscribed in his very essence: the frantic flutter of your core, the tremor in your limbs, the salt of your tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hand slipped from your belly, reaching back to claw at his torso, nails raking the same spot repeatedly before dragging from ribs to hip, leaving stinging scratches that bloomed red against his shadows. He didn’t flinch at the pain; it only fueled him, his grinds intensifying, precum smearing sticky trails along your ass as the tendrils thrust harder, deeper, the ones on your breasts sucking with numb-inducing fervor.
“Cum for me…Soak me. Soak everything. Do it, baby…” He coaxed, his voice a gravelly command, grinding with abandon as your body shattered. You shook violently, pulses of ecstasy ripping through you, squirming in his unyielding hold as your walls squeezed the tendrils in vice-like spasms, arousal gushing in slick waves that smeared down them, the obscene squelching muffled beneath the blanket but echoing in your ears. A primal, animalistic moan vibrated against his palm as he bit into your shoulder to stifle his own release, warm spurts of cum painting your back in sticky ropes, dripping down the plush swell of your ass cheeks.
The haze that followed lingered like a thick, velvety fog that enveloped your senses, as the aftershocks of ecstasy rippled through your body in gentle, fading waves, while he slowed his movements inside you to a tender, pulsating halt. The dual tendrils, once relentless in their thrusting rhythm, now eased their pace to languid undulations, allowing your overwrought walls to clench and release around them one final time before beginning their retreat.
You both drew in ragged breaths, your chest heaving against his unyielding hold, the air between you heavy with the mingled scents of sweat, musk, and the salty tang of release–yours sweet and heady, his cooler and faintly metallic, like distant rain on shadowed earth. Your limbs trembled, muscles aching from the strain of being held open, marked, and utterly claimed, but the exhaustion was sweet, a blissful surrender that left you floating in a post-climactic glow.
He eased his hand from your mouth with deliberate gentleness, his palm–warm now from the friction of your muffled cries–trailing down your jaw in a soothing caress, wiping away the faint sheen of saliva that had gathered at the corners of your lips. The tendrils withdrew from you slowly, almost regretfully, their silky lengths gliding out with a slick, wet slide that smeared your release across your inner thighs in glossy trails, the coolness of them contrasting the burning heat of your core and sending fresh shivers cascading over your skin. As they slipped free, they lingered for a moment, lapping at the mingled cum with tender, sucking kisses from their nodes, cleaning you with an intimate efficiency that felt both possessive and caring–their tips curling to gather every drop, the faint vibrations humming through your oversensitive flesh like a lover’s whisper. The ones coiled around your breasts uncoiled with equal care, their suckers releasing your bruised nipples with soft pops that left the skin tingling and numb, before they stroked downward along your torso in featherlight caresses, tracing the contours of your ribs and hips as if memorizing the map of your body all over again.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the bite marks he’d etched into your shoulder–deep, throbbing indentations that drew up against your skin, each one a badge of his hunger. His kisses were soft, reverent, his cool tongue laving over them to soothe the sting, drawing a sigh from your lips as the pain melted into warmth. He turned your head toward him with a gentle nudge of his nose, his luminous white pupils locking onto yours in the dim light, and kissed away the salty trails of your tears from your cheeks, his mouth lingering on each damp path as if savoring the evidence of your overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes fluttered closed by this point, heavy with satiation, and all you could do was sink into the cocoon of his comfort, your body limp and pliant against his, every nerve ending humming with residual bliss.
“Open your mouth…” He whispered, his voice a low, intimate rumble that vibrated through your chest, carrying a hint of command softened by affection. Slowly, obediently, your jaw parted for him, lips trembling slightly from the aftershocks, and one of the tendrils–that had been buried so deeply within you moments ago–slithered upward with fluid grace, its surface still glistening with your essence. It settled on your tongue like a forbidden fruit, cool and silky, the faint musk of your arousal blooming across your taste buds as you closed your lips around it instinctively.
“Clean yourself off of me,” He instructed, his tone husky and encouraging, watching with rapt attention as you sucked slowly, your tongue swirling along the now-smooth form–he’d retracted the suckers thoughtfully, transforming it into a velvety ribbon that glided effortlessly deeper into your mouth. The act was profoundly sensual, intimate beyond words: the cool slide against your tongue, the subtle pulse of it echoing the rhythm of your earlier union, the way your cheeks hollowed as you drew on it with deliberate pulls, savoring the tangy sweetness of your own release mingled with his ethereal essence. It filled your mouth just enough to tease the back of your throat, a gentle intrusion that made your core clench anew with remembered fullness, your breaths coming in soft, heated puffs through your nose as you cleaned it with perfect precision, every lap and suck drawing a low hum of approval from him.
When it was pristine, he withdrew it completely, the tendril retreating with a final, affectionate curl around your chin before vanishing into his form. He leaned in immediately, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss, his tongue delving to taste the lingering essence of your release from yours–salty-sweet and intoxicating, the flavors blending in a shared intimacy that made your head spin. His mouth moved against yours with unhurried passion, teeth grazing your lower lip in a playful nip before he pulled away, leaving you both breathless once more. You slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze–the way he was already looking at you, those white pupils gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness, a small smile curving the shadowed contours of his face, revealing a flash of teeth that sent a warm flutter through your chest.
“You did so fucking good…You’re getting better at handling them,” He praised, his voice rich with genuine admiration, one hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced the swell of your lip. You leaned in, pressing another kiss to his mouth, soft and lingering, before murmuring against him.
“Still overwhelming…But…It feels amazing, Void.” The compliment hung in the air like a shared secret, your voice steadying as you regained composure, forming sentences amid the lingering haze. You could feel his cum cooling on your back, sticky ropes dripping downward in lazy trails, pooling at the curve of your ass, the sensation both messy and oddly intimate. He reached down with a casual grace, his fingers running through the viscous streaks, gathering the droplets before they could stain the couch further. When he brought them into your line of sight, you watched them glisten under the beaming rays of sunlight filtering through the windows, pearlescent and shimmering like liquid stars. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, running your tongue along his fingers in slow, deliberate laps, savoring the salty, musky bitterness that exploded across your taste buds–a chaser to your own sweetness that sent a fresh shiver up your spine, stirring your stomach with renewed heat, as if your body was already gearing up for another round despite the exhaustion. Void let out a small huff of a laugh, surprised and delighted by your eagerness, his pupils dilating slightly as he watched you with rapt fascination.
“Do you want to catch a shower so we can properly clean each other off?” He asked, his tone shifting to practical care laced with underlying promise, earning a quick nod from you.
“Definitely…I also think it’ll be better than sticking around and getting caught with our pants down…Literally.” He smirked, the expression pulling at the shadows of his face, and pressed one more kiss to your lips–firm and affectionate–before helping you situate yourself. With gentle hands, he pulled up your soaked shorts, the cool, damp fabric settling against the burning heat of your core like a soothing compress, bringing much-needed relief to the tender, throbbing ache between your legs. He fixed your shirt next, smoothing the rumpled fabric over your marked breasts with careful strokes, his touch lingering just enough to send aftershocks through you. Then he attended to himself, tugging up his pajama bottoms with a fluid motion, the waistband snapping softly against his hips.
He sat up slowly, unraveling his limbs from yours with reluctance, his tendrils fully retracted now, leaving only the faint imprints of their presence on your skin. Extending a hand, he helped you rise from the couch, your legs wobbly beneath you like a newborn fawn, muscles protesting with a delicious soreness that made you lean into him for support. He collected the blanket–damp and rumpled from your activities–draping it over his arm, before lacing his fingers with yours, his grip cool and reassuring. Together, you snuck toward the bathroom, navigating the short distance with stealthy steps, slipping past the kitchen unnoticed–the distant clatter of dishes and laughter providing unwitting cover. The thrill of the near-miss sent a fresh adrenaline spike through you, your heart pounding not from fear but from the lingering high of secrecy.
You reached the bathroom in a few hurried strides, and he closed the door behind you with a soft click, the sound echoing in the tiled space like a seal on your private world. He turned on the light, immediately dimming it to a warm, golden glow that bathed the room in intimate ambiance, casting soft shadows that danced across the white tiles and fogged mirrors. Dropping the blanket into the hamper with a muffled thud, he let out a contented sigh, the tension easing from his form as he turned to you.
“I’ll turn on the shower,” He said, his voice low and steady, moving past you with a brush of his body against yours–deliberate, sparking a faint echo of desire. He slid open the glass door to the tub, leaning in to reach the faucet, twisting it until water cascaded from the showerhead in a steady, steaming rush, the sound providing a soothing white noise that filled the room. Steam began to rise almost immediately, curling lazily in the air like tendrils of mist, carrying the faint mineral scent of the water as it heated to perfection.
“Are you alright?” he asked, turning back to you, his white pupils searching your face with genuine concern, the vulnerability in his gaze making your heart swell. You looked up at him, a soft smile curving your lips despite the lingering haze clouding your thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m good–just still in a bit of a haze.” He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips–slow and tender, a grounding anchor amid the floaty aftermath. As your mouths moved together, you felt his hands slide down to the hem of your shirt, fingers curling around the fabric with gentle intent. He pulled away just enough to tug it upward, peeling the damp material from your skin in a smooth motion, exposing the array of marks he’d left. He tossed the shirt aside in a careless bundle, his gaze roaming over you with appreciative heat.
You mirrored him, staring at his body as well while pushing down your shorts with a shimmy of your hips, the fabric clinging stubbornly to your slick thighs before pooling at your feet. Kicking them off, you slid them across the cool tile floor to join the growing pile. Your eyes roamed over him as he followed suit, shoving his pajama bottoms down in one fluid motion, the garment whispering against his legs before hitting the floor. There, exposed in the warm light, were the scratch marks you’d left on him–jagged lines of white shimmering against his infinite darkness, like tears in the fabric of night revealing glimpses of starlight beneath. They glowed faintly, ethereal and beautiful, stretching from his ribs down to his hip in erratic paths. You couldn’t help but admire your handiwork, reaching out to touch them, your fingers tracing the velvety edges where shadow met light, the texture smooth yet charged, like stroking cooled silk over embers.
“Sorry about these,” You said softly, your touch lingering as a subtle warmth bloomed under your fingertips, his form responding to the contact with a faint pulse.
“Don’t be…I love them. And it’s only fair that you get to mark me up too… Considering…” He trailed off, motioning to your neck and shoulder, where his bites and hickeys formed a vivid tapestry of possession, then down to the rest of your body. You took a moment to really look at yourself, glancing down at the oval-shaped suction marks scattered across your breasts and thighs–raised and warm, each one a tingling reminder of his tendrils’ embrace, the skin around them puckered and sensitive to the steam-kissed air.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right…Least you don’t have to walk around looking like you got into a fight with a sea monster though.” Your comment drew a genuine laugh from him, the sound rich and resonant, echoing off the tiles like a private melody.
“You like them though…They’re special to you, and you’ve said it yourself…You like to have souvenirs of our time together.” He murmured, leaning down to pepper kisses along your cheek, his lips cool and soft, each press sending tiny sparks across your skin.
“Hmm…They don’t last until the next time I see you though, so I wouldn’t call them souvenirs–they’re just placeholders.” You stated, feeling his lips curve against your cheek in amusement.
“I’ll find something to give you that’s a little more permanent next time,” He replied, his voice a promise wrapped in velvet, and you nodded, the idea sending a warm thrill through you.
“That would be fantastic.” The steam thickened around you, the shower’s heat beckoning as he guided you toward the tub, his hand steady in yours, the intimacy shifting from raw passion to tender care, the water promising to wash away the evidence while etching the memory deeper into your souls.
