𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷ℯ𝓁ℴ𝓃ℊ𝓈 𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹ℴ𝓌𝓈
꩜ void x reader x bob ꩜ nsfw 18+ for explicit descriptions of smut, dubcon, themes of sadomasochism, self-destructive behavior, and mention of mental illness ꩜ synposis: bob starts having a nightmare and accidentally wakes you up. without hesitating, you grab him, but find yourself sucked into the void, something he's long tried protecting you from, because what belongs to the shadows, hungers with sweet cruelty--and it's been waiting to claim you
You felt the mattress dip from his movement; little spasms and jerks turning to quite literal tossing and turning and drawing you over to your opposite side to face him, then to your knees. The next time he jerked, the dim lighting of the room, helped by the small night light by the door, revealed a slight shine of sweat on his forehead while his brows creased together and pulled upward. He was mumbling, ragged breaths turning to whimpers mid-exhale. You couldn't stop your hands from landing on his chest, your right fingertips brushing up his tensed throat to cup his jaw at the same time that the shadows of the room began to bleed together, seeping black along the seams and filling the empty spaces between.
Bob usually preferred to sleep alone, even if you offered, you'd see him hesitate, chewing on his lip and folding his hands into themselves as if to wring the dampness from them before responding, "I... don't know if that would be a good... idea." Even though he would reassure you with a tentative, sweet kiss. And sometimes, when he did let you stay, you would wake to find him folded sideways in the armchair by the closet, a blanket spilled across his lap. Now, he disappeared into the darkness. It coated him like hungry ink, and your hands fell through to the pillows. You gasped, more so choking on the air in your lungs. Already able to feel him making room for himself in your brain, exploring each dendritic synapse, threading each tangled branch between his fingers, using what he liked. The worst part was he--it--was Bob, used his voice and body, knew everything about him, grew up with him, dormant. Always lurking beneath the surface, a dream--a nightmare of Bob's making, in his own image. He wore what Bob wore, thought what he thought, used his favorite words, and therefore, knew everything Bob knew about you.
You couldn't spot him--he wouldn't be seen unless he wanted to, but that didn't stop you from searching the corners of the room and trying to peer into the thick black in front of you. A chill ran up your spine with the shift in the air, making you feel as though he was only inches away, whispering in your ear. However, when you reached out, you reached out into emptiness, and a much colder, deeper voice melted through your head, coming not from outside your own thoughts but a part of them.
"He's been keeping you from me."
"Stop." The single word trembled as badly as your fingers, clenching the sheets and trying to anchor you. "Stop it."
"I haven't even done anything yet." You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, shying away, turning into yourself before you felt his chilled touch pinch your jaw a beat and he spoke again. "Look at me." When you let him pull your face back up, the sarcasm remained in his tone, and you opened your eyes to see the flicker of light where Bob's eyes used to be--the last bit of himself remaining in there, burning just a little brighter when you locked on them, while below, white teeth appeared in a mocking smirk. "Atta girl. Y'know, he finds it funny how much you like to please him. Thinks it's cute. I have to agree."
Your cheeks burned. "Let me go."
He snapped back, and you felt him shift closer to you, although unable to see just how much that meant. "I just got you. He gets you all the time, keeps you selfishly to himself. No. No--I think I'll keep you for quite a while, actually."
Your throat had gone doughy, sticky, but you still tried to swallow, trying not to make your flinching so apparent when Void took his other hand and placed it between your hip and rib. There was something so curious to his touches, the way his palm lingered against your belly, the way you felt his hair brush your face, and his nose nudge against your cheek as he smelled you, all primal. You didn't even have to ask why you hadn't been sent into a maze of your own psychological trauma, why you weren't locked in the room of your worst moment, reliving it until sent into another, reminded of all the darkness in your mind, the self-destructivity of it all almost alluring, comforting.
"He can see how desperate you are." His hand fell from your jaw to the front of your throat. "How badly you need to make him proud, as if his opinion matters... It's useless." You stiffened when he palmed the front of your breast, grazing your nipple with his thumb, pinching and pulling slightly. "You think it matters? Whether he looks your way? He's only using you, knowing you'll be there. He doesn't actually care for you."
"Th-then why would he protect me? From you?" Your question lingered in silence until interrupted by your own whimper when finally fit his hand between your thighs, pressing up into the soft cotton of your panties, hardly hidden under the shirt you'd stolen from him.
Void responded calmly, "knew I'd ruin his favorite toy, I suppose."
When his mouth pressed to yours, it was dry and firm. It wasn't warm, it was damp and soft like Bob's, even though it moved as his did. You recognized the roughness, the hardness of impatience. There was Void in everything Bob did, the shadow that crossed his gaze, the electricity in his fingertips, the sharpness of his tone at times, the way when he really let himself kiss you, he became demanding, greedy. Void was all his greed, all this hate, all the hatred he had for himself in wanting you. You let him push you down to your back and instinctively opened your legs for him to fit between, your body molding itself to him as it had almost every night for the past two months.
"Let me in." He growled when you turned your face away. "You think he's going to care where you are? I've done him a favor, taking you off his hands."
"No."
"No? He's been thinking of ways to let you down easy... because he pities you. He'll be relieved not to find you beside him when he wakes up."
Your squirming stilled, and that heaviness in your chest settled deeper, making your ribs cave in as tears brimmed in your eyes. You wanted to be able to respond, to find reasons to the contrary to believe him, but images flashed in your mind, drawn out by the Void to prove his point, twisted in exaggeration to highlight every moment Bob's smile had faltered, every moment he'd moved away from you, the times he hadn't responded right away, his back turned to you.
Suddenly, the thoughts went silent, too. You were doing exactly what he wanted, had lured you into--isolating yourself, your body becoming numbed as the Void enveloped you. And you let him in. Breathed him in and felt his tacky tongue wrangle yours into submission as he poured himself into your heat and sucked it up like a leech. It was painful, him rutting his hips into yours, never pulling out enough to offer any relief from the stretch and spasm of your walls. And soon, even if you'd wanted to make any noise, Void's hand had clasped back around your throat, this time squeezing so hard the sips of air you managed burned in your lungs.
Your tears now streaked down the sides of your face. Not thinking twice about it, you struggled back against the darkness, grabbing at the bedsheets and twisting yourself over to your belly, swatting his hands away as panic flushed through you at just how suffocating this was. While you panted and gulped down oxygen, he sat back against his heels and let you simply readjust your position. He grabbed you back against him with a chuckle at the futile display.
Your back flat against his front, the gummy, wet tip of his cock and curve of his length found your weeping entrance easily, one hand between your thighs again and his spine curving to continue thrusting upward into your cervix, bruising it and leaking pure black down your legs. He should have felt warm, soft, but now his ropey musculature and leanness only made it feel as though the stone arms of a statue had caged you in. His thumb pressed directly onto your clit and stayed there, letting the movements of him fucking himself up into you increase the friction and cause the erect bundle of nerves to twitch. Your hands gripping his forearm, your lips quivered, and his name painted your tongue.
"Bo-Bob, Bob-p-plea-"
Your mouth was filled with Void's fingers, keeping your head bent back against his chest while you stared up into the nothingness, and he laughed again. "Bob's not coming to save you, sweetheart. Nobody is. Not even your own mind--I know everything now. You're mine."
You couldn't tell when he ejaculated. He gushed from you as heavy and thick as when he remained inside you, constantly filling you, his shadows threatening to dribble from the seams of your ever deteriorating composure. All you could tell was that the pressure points of his body moved so teeth grazed the sensitive petals of your sex, and he latched hungrily onto your clit with his mouth--repeatedly bringing you to the edge of a pulsating climax, then releasing you with a crude wet pop and leaving you to dangle and fall back into the sweaty mess of a need clawing at you from so deep you began reaching for him and begging him to let you cum.
"You don't deserve to. You should be thankful enough I'm even touching you."
There it was, the shame again. The embarrassment. Your desire was filth, and filth consumed you now. You became lost in the spiral of his words, following them down into the black, sick pit in your stomach where hatred lay, so deep down you didn't even register that another pair of hands were on your face. Warm, gentle hands.
He'd shown Bob. With jealous pride, filling his head with your moans that didn't belong to him, weren't caused by him, not really. She doesn't care for you. I've seen in her mind. She never has. Nobody does. You're still alone--you'll always be alone. She'll leave you as soon as somebody better shows up, someone who can fuck her like a slut like her needs, craves to be fucked, like me--look at her, look at the way I'm taking care of her. You've never taken care of her. Not really. Hear that?
The noises had filled his head, thudding his temples. And the nightmares became less about his past, but the fear and anxiety he felt for the future--your future, with him. They became of you, clawing at the shadows, grabbing for them, leaving him behind. Leaving.
And now, he saw it, saw you twisted and tensed, your figure convulsing as the Void took from you. He couldn't see where he was going, but he knew the space, charging forward despite the Void's attempts to stop him. The shimmer of rage in the Void's gaze looked up from between your legs once he grabbed you, his teeth bared as saliva and the gloss of your juices dripping back into the dark. Shadows sheathed in you once more, and you cried out, not even reacting to his palms searching your face, the brush of his fingers against your forehead, not until he grabbed you more forcibly to still you and spoke sternly.
"I'm here, listen to me, it's Bob, please--I need you to hear me. I'm here, I heard you." When you didn't respond, he stuttered, "please just l-let her go, she... if she leaves then I can't stop her. You can have me."
"I don't fucking want you." The void hissed, growling as he slurped down on you, primal becoming animal. "She's not yours anymore. You couldn't keep her--you didn't ever really have her. And she's mine now."
Bob pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly, bending his broad shoulder and whispering against your forehead, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," while his lips pressed featherlight kisses to your damp skin. "I'm sorry," he continued down your cheeks, kissing your tears. His mouth met the corner of yours, where he hummed and kissed deeper once you opened your lips for him. He wouldn't kiss you as hard as he really wanted, not as rough as he knew you sometimes wanted, told through the grabbing of his neck and arch of your spine under his hands and your whining. He loved it when you needed him. Seeing, feeling you writhe in his absence, convinced that wasn't true, his heart shattered. He kissed you with this pain, continuing to apologize and stroke your face while your eyes opened slightly and you reached for his arm, your smaller hand twisting in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. "I'm here, I'll always be here, and I'm so sorry."
You winced when the Void nipped at your skin, the only tell that you were aware of Bob being the way you began to kiss him back, not wanting to break contact, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so he curled further over you.
Sunlight broke through the curtains of the room, and your hands found themselves buried in the gentle curl of Bob's hair. He grabbed your sides and helped you into a seated position, propping you up with one arm while the other hand remained at your hip. Gently stroking the hint of skin on the side of your thigh from where the shirt you'd taken from him rode up, twisted around your smaller frame, you nestled close to his warmth, until the pang of the Void's lingering shadow caused you to recoil. Bob was ready for you to do so, however, and was determined keep you were you were--right against him, safe, awake. "Hey, hey," he cupped the side of your face with his opposite hand again so he could redirect your eyes to his. "You're okay. It's over." You shook your head, still pulling back slightly. Bob's stomach turned over as he could only imagine the things the Void... he had said. "It's not true."
"You-"
"He's not me," he pleaded.
"But he knew everything, Bob... he... he used--"
"I know." When you looked back at him, you saw how awful he looked, circles under his red-rimmed eyes that were spilling with tears, his nose blushed and sniffling, neck spidering with veins as his shoulders lifted and fell with shaky breaths. He touched you as if to then reassure himself you were right there. "I heard. He showed me."
"Do you not want me?" The ask was small, meek. Afraid. "I mean, do you want space? If I'm too much you can just-you can-"
"Stop, stop, stop. He lied. He twisted, he distorted my fears for his own selfish gain. He wanted you, he used--whatever he could get. It's not that I have ever, ever wanted space from you or, or felt like... I needed to get away from you, you terrify me. How bad I need you, my own dependence terrifies the hell out of me, okay? And the fact you share those feelings... And he used that. He knew it would upset you. He knew it would get you to-to let him, in--or, whatever-he was doing to you--I don't want to lose you, I can't. I physically can't--that's what he was telling you. Every part of me can't exist without you, and that's not fucking good. I know that's not good. So I try and... I try and be fucking normal about it, so I don't consume you. So you don't feel like you need to get away from m-"
You cut him off with another kiss, this time grabbing his hand in yours and pulling it so he grabbed the nape of your neck, and you his, while climbing into his lap. Bob's face fit between your shoulder and your hands then slipped up his back, beneath his shirt. "This scares too. But not having you scares me more."
"He shouldn't have... done that to you, though. Any of it." You peeled his shirt further up and tugged it over his head, leaving him in his plaid flannel bottoms. "He did it because he..." the admission got stuck in your throat. "Because you... you're afraid, of hurting me, but--"
"But..."
"Sometimes..."
Bob yanked your shirt off and exhaled, short. "He didn't let you finish?"
Your core tightened, and that ache in your sex returned, the ache for contact, pressure, stimulation. Your clit was still throbbing, and your cheeks grew hot again. You shook your head, and before the embarrassment could trickle through your veins again, Bob pushed you beneath him, just firm enough that your next breath caught, his hold similar to the Void's, the dimensions, proportions, and movements all the same, except now his wide, stormy blue eyes met yours and he moaned softly, purring into your folds as his nose continued pressing into your clit even when he moved further downward, feeling your hips flex and your legs squeeze around him. He wasn't just punishing you, using your body against yourself, but savoring you, muttering to himself how pretty you were and how lucky he was to have you, that he would protect you, wouldn't let anyone hurt you again. It was a promise both of you knew it was impossible for him to realistically keep, but the sentiment stuck. You were the one to stop yourself from cumming that time, preventing him from returning with kitten licks to your clit with the yanking at his shoulders and shaking your head, sitting up and hurriedly saying, "n-need you, Bob, please, I wanna cum, with you inside me, please, please."
He really didn't need to be told twice, climbing over you and situating his pelvis against yours, only hesitating when he watched with the jolt of his Adam's apple, you hurriedly flip yourself to your belly. Pushing your ass upward with a curve of your spin and the widening of your thighs, Bob followed your lead with equal roughness, tugging your hips back and pushing himself inside with one stroke after shoving his bottoms down to his knees, causing him to stutter forward and groan painfully, "Fuck," after taking a moment to adjust, his chest rising and falling quickly, his fingertips reached around your hip and he found your clit again. You mewled, jutting forward into his palm and rolling back again onto his cock, your head hanging forward until your scalp burned with the sting of him having buried his fingers at the base of your skull and taken a fistful of your hair in his head. "C'mon, baby, I know you need to. Cum for me. Give it to me." He heaved, fighting back the moans. He wanted to throw his head back and cry out for you, but he squeezed his jaw and merely grunted so he could hear every little pretty noise you were making. "Give it to me, give me everything, I need everything. I need you to let go."
Let go. His voice rang through you, electrifying the coil of pleasure in the pit of your belly, lightening the darkness of your shame. "I want you, please, I want everything," he huffed, "that's it, that's it I can--holy f-fuck I can feel it, that's my girl."
You stiffened, quivering as the climax finally burst inside you, frayed and worn and exhausted. Your walls contracted heavily before your clit spasmed and warmth flooded from your insides, pulsing so rapidly around him Bob stopped thrusting and squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly riding out your orgasm with you. At the end of it, his balls squeezed tight, and he felt his whole body unthread with his own orgasm, his cock throbbing and softening as strings of semen leaked from his tip slow and painful. He knew he'd need another release sooner rather than later, but just picked you up and laid you on your side with his legs pushing up against the backs of your thighs so he curled around you. Neither of you said anything more, and stayed there until the noise outside in the tower became too loud, too awake to ignore.
At that point, Bob convinced you to shower with him--a small ritual the two of you had when either one of you needed a moment where nothing outside the pressure of steaming hot water mattered and the gentle massage of soap into tired muscles and sore scalps. On the way, he didn't let you look in the mirror. He didn't care for his complexion much at that moment either, but there was something in him now that wanted you clean, didn't want you to see the remnants of shadows smeared on your skin, the already yellow stain of fresh bruises. He knew he had some making up to do with you, but in good time, he would learn to allow himself to care for you the way you needed. The rest of today would be spent in loose-fitted, soft loungewear, long hugs and slow kisses, reassurances and check-ins, the dismissal of the others' plans in exchange for short naps and mental and physical pleasure found in the nooks of a book and of each other's bodies. If there was one thing both of you agreed on and were determined to do, it was not to let the void win. You could never let it--him--win.
And yet, while nuzzled against Bob's side, a blanket thrown over you, your ear to his heart, you couldn't help but watch the swimming, darker hues of where the shadows lurked in the room. Couldn't help but feel the ghost of his touch, feel held by him, even when the lights reduced him to a mere memory. And you couldn't help but wonder if there was a part of Bob, your charming, kind, caring, shy Robert, while awake and sober, carried that cruelty with him--and if you would ever taste its sour sweetness again.