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em1i2a3 · 4 hours ago

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The Gold

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

Summary: A few weeks after your argument in the safe house, you and Bob are tiptoeing around each other to make sure you don’t interact, but when The Void comes out he overthrows that strategy completely (Sequel to ‘Strangers’)

Warnings: Angst,, Reader and Bob are ex’s, The Void is trying to be a problem solver here.

Author's Note: I had a eureka moment with this series and really wanted to add to it, and I was so excited to get something out for this, it’s a bit short but I loved writing it and I wanted to get it out so I didn’t sit on it and rethink it.

Word Count: 2,681

It had been weeks since Bob patched you up in the safe house. Weeks since everything combusted and boiled over, leaving the both of you at an impasse with what you were going to do with each other.

You didn’t want to work with him anymore, and you made that impossibly clear the moment the Quinjet hit the tarmac of the compound, just before you were taken to the med bay to be looked at for any additional wounds. In fact, you threatened to quit if the rest of the team didn’t respect that boundary–and once that was laid out in plain, venom-laced words to Yelena and Bucky, nobody argued with you, and that’s when the team finally understood how serious this situation was.

They all had their own separate moments where they realized that the break-up wasn’t just a cooling-off period, or a soft, mutual separation that left the door open to the possibility of getting back together. They assumed you were going to work through it. That the wounds of hurtful words would scab over, and band-aid sex would fix what was broken until you both found a real solution. But the truth hit differently when they saw how you began to act around each other after the argument in the safehouse.

You weren’t the same two people who would orbit each other, and protect one another’s backs. You were now two separate planets, on opposite sides of the galaxy, with the gravity completely severed, and it was sad to watch the breakdown of the foundation the both of you had.

Bob wouldn’t stay in a room with you anymore. Not for longer than ten seconds–Alexei and John had counted once just to be sure about that. When you entered the gym, he’d drop his weights and leave his water bottle behind without a second thought. If you were already in the training bay when he arrived, he would freeze at the threshold like a moth afraid to burn–sometimes he would watch, and hope you didn’t notice his eyes following you–then he would quietly disappear.

And you never stopped him because there was no more fight left in you. As much as you loved him he made his decisions and it took both of you down to the depths of pain, and so you decided to take it to another level by laying down the boundaries you did.

You hated the fact that it even had to come to this. That something that was once sacred–intimate and messy, and full of talks of the future–had turned into a cold war of evasion by choice. A tactical silence that made your blood boil every time you passed him in the hallway and didn’t make eye contact. But it had to be done if you were going to move on like he wanted you to do. So. You did what you needed to do to pick up the pieces, even if it was hard, though some people weren’t making it easy for you.

————————

You had wandered into the compound’s kitchen long after midnight, completely unable to sleep again. You hadn’t had a full night’s rest since Bob broke up with you–but tonight felt worse. Like something inside you was knocked out of sync. Normally, you could force yourself into a few hours of sleep with sheer exhaustion, but this time it felt like your veins were buzzing, like you had mainlined a gallon of caffeine through your bones even though all you’d had since dinner was a cup of peppermint tea.

Your limbs were restless, and your thoughts were racing, and the stillness of your half empty bedroom was too loud. So you pulled a hoodie over your sleep clothes and slipped through the compound, the quiet corridors were chilled, almost like it was a freezer, but you just bundled yourself up even tighter and shuffled towards the dark kitchen, chalking it up to the fact that the air conditioner was possibly working over time. You didn’t turn on any of the lights, you just navigated through the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the shadows as you reached for the fridge door.

The stark white light flooded the room as you opened the door, bathing the kitchen in a sterile kind of silence. You didn’t rush–your hand moved almost absently to the top shelf, grabbing a chilled bottle of water and a small container of blueberries you had prepared earlier in the day for a breakfast you never got around to eating or making.

You let the door shut with a soft click, and the room was swallowed in the darkness once again, leaving just the quiet hum of the fridge and the near-silence crack of the air vents pushing cold air through the system. You leaned your hip into the counter and peeled open the lid of the container, picking through the chilled, rounded fruit, throwing one blueberry into your mouth at a time, staring into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust. You almost tricked yourself into thinking that it was somewhat of a peaceful moment.

But then…You noticed how unnaturally cold the room was getting.

It wasn’t the air conditioner anymore. This was deeper, older even. The kind of cold that wasn’t just physical–it settled in your lungs and curled around your spine, leaving a tension in your muscles that felt too familiar to be anything but him.

Your fingers froze inside the container, and before you could say anything, you heard it.

”I haven’t seen you for a long time.” The voice floated across the dark–low and gentle, soft and even. Like a whisper from the other side of a dream. You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, forming a lump that blocked all air from getting in, “I’ve missed you,” He added, and this time his voice cracked–just a fraction. The smallest tremor, like a glitch in his vocal cords. It was so faint, yet it shook something loose inside your chest, rattling you from your frozen state.

Your eyes darted across the shadows of the room, searching and scanning it as if it was a mission. You could see the outlines of the cabinet shapes, the faint edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen, the fruit bowl that was perched on top of it. You knew exactly what you were looking for in the darkness and you intended to find it as soon as possible. It took you a few minutes of going over the same spots again, but then…You saw them.

The two faintly glowing white pupils. Pinpricks of impossible light. They were all too familiar–you knew them very well because you had looked into them on nights when he came out and took the wheel from his other counterparts’ grasp, when he told you he wanted to hold you and he needed to battle off Bob and Sentry just to do it. His pupils pulsed softly in the dark, like twin stars drifting through a void of black matter, and he was on the other side of the kitchen island watching you like he always did.

“Please…Not tonight, Void. I don’t want to see you.” Your voice came out hollow. Worn down to the bone. Exhausted. You didn’t even look at his outline when you said it–you just set the blueberries down with a quiet clack on the counter, the glass leaving a wet film of condensation on your fingertips. Your shoulders slumped forward as you leaned into the marble of the countertop, eyes fixed on the darkness of the room.

”Y/N…” The way he said your name was so careful, gentle. Like he knew he was practically walking barefoot across broken glass. But you didn’t allow him to continue any further.

“Did you not get the memo that Bob and I aren’t talking?” You snapped, the bitterness slipping between your teeth like venom, “Which means that you and Sentry are included in that as well.” The silence after that was instant. Tense. And vibrating. Then, you heard the faintest shuffle of movement. A sound like static laced with footsteps, coming from the other side of the kitchen.

”I wasn’t the one that made the decision for Bob,” Voice said, voice low and quiet, like he was trying to contain something unruly that was forming in the depths of his chest, “Why should I pay for another man’s choices?” You let out a scoff so sharp it sounded like a crack across stone. Your laugh was humourless.

”You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with the breakup?” You asked, lifting your gaze to where his eyes still glowed in the dark, “You, the dark entity who lives inside his skin? The one who never stops whispering in the back of his mind? I’m supposed to believe you didn’t encourage him?” The movement paused abruptly. Then he answered.

”How could you even accuse me of something like that?” His voice was louder now, wounded, almost shaking. “After everything we went through together.” He continued, his eyes growing brighter, like the light inside him was pressing tightly behind glass, “After all the work we both put into trusting each other…After I gave you my mark…You think I would betray you like that?” You gulped loudly, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. It sounded like the words were tearing themselves free from somewhere deep, like the pain in his soul was overflowing, and speaking the truth was an act of squeezing it all out.

You hadn’t heard him sound like that since the night he gave you his mark on the inner part of your thigh. Since he told you that you were the only one who had ever chosen him.

And then you heard it again–the sound of something shifting. A soft static-buzz shuffle of movement, feet gliding across tile like weight didn’t fully apply to him. You tensed instinctively, tracking the glow of those twin white pupils in the dark.

They were closer now. Closer than you realized.

”So if it wasn’t you, and it certainly wasn’t Sentry…You’re telling me Bob made this decision all on his own, without any input?” The pupils still, and there was a pause.

”Yes…That’s exactly what I’m telling you…Because Sentry and I practically fought him tooth and nail. We screamed at him. Pleaded with him to think clearly–to see what he was about to destroy. But he didn’t listen. He just spiraled out.” His tone soured–bitter, frustrated, devastated, “He thought he was doing the noble thing. That he was trying to protect you.” The pupils dimmed slightly, like his anger was folding back into grief.

“Evidently he didn’t explain that to you, because I’m coming back to this absolute ruin and you’re looking at me like I’m the one who burned the house down.” You felt your stomach twist, as you stared at him in the dark. At those aching eyes flowing through the thick of silence between you. And for the first time in weeks, you felt something crack beneath your chest. Not in rage or heartbreak, but in understanding.

”He didn’t explain anything like that to me…” The words slipped from your mouth quieter than you intended. Almost fragile. You hadn’t meant to say them at all.

You were supposed to stay guarded. Stay furious. But the truth cracked through your defenses before you could catch it. Because of course Bob hadn’t explained. He had just left. Mumbled half-reasons. Said things like “I’m not good for you” and “you deserve better”–clichés that felt like being smothered with your own heartbeat.

Void didn’t say anything at first. But the movement resumed. And then he finally stepped fully in front of you.

Not a silhouette in the dark anymore, not just the eyes–but him. The impossible, vantablack shape of him in full. Shoulders broad, form flickering with soft pulses of cosmic shadow.

“Sentry and I are in your corner,” He said quietly, and you could feel your chest tighten at the admission, “We’re trying our best here…But you…” His glowing eyes searched yours, “You need to be able to bend a bit, too. Just enough to have a conversation with him.” You swallowed, hard.

The thought of facing Bob again–really facing him, looking him in the eye and hearing the things you’d been twisting in your own mind for weeks–felt like trying to stitch your ribs shut with glass.

But Void didn’t let the silence win this time.

“We are sick of missing you…And I know Bob feels that way too, even if he’s the one that pulled the trigger on your relationship.” He added. You looked away from him, unable to hold the weight of those words. The ache behind your eyes threatened to spill over as your chest seized with something you’d been suppressing for weeks now–sorrow, longing, fury, guilt. It all sat at the base of your throat, unspoken and heavy.

And then you felt it. That impossibly cold hand curling gently around your wrist. There was no strength in his grip, just a phantom pressure, a whisper of contact. His palm was freezing against your skin, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Because it was the closest thing to Bob’s hand you’d felt in weeks–and the chill of Void’s skin, the shadow of it, the memory wrapped inside of it–felt more like home than any of the warmth you’d tried to fake lately.

He brought your hand up slowly, and pressed it against the smooth, frozen curve of his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a tremble rolling through him that looked more like grief than anything monstrous. And then you felt it–cold tears sliding down the hollow beneath his eye, soaking into your fingertips like ink bleeding into paper.

“When you ache…” His voice cracked again, brittle and broken, “we ache.”

He held your hand there like it was sacred. Like it anchored him. His cheek leaned into it like a desperate animal begging not to be abandoned. You could feel it in the way his form flickered around the edges, as though if you pulled away, he’d vanish. Dissolve into shadow and starlight and never come back.

“And we are here to help,” He whispered, trembling now, his glow dimming to something soft. Something almost…Small. “So please…Allow us to. Meet us halfway so we can try to fix this, Y/N.” Your chest collapsed with a shallow inhale, the tears finally escaping as you blinked them loose. One slipped down the ridge of your nose, another clung to your lashes. You hated crying in front of him–hated giving in, even for a second–but the way he looked at you, like he was holding the broken halves of you in his hands…It disarmed you.

”…And what happens if it doesn’t work?” You asked quietly.

”It will work…If it’s the last thing I do, I will make the god damn thing work…Just trust me one last time, and let me do this…Okay?” You took in a deep breath, curling your fingers slightly into the skin of his cheek, feeling the way he vibrated against your touch, as you felt his other hand coming up to wipe the tears that continued to slip down your cheeks.

”Fine…” You whispered, “Let’s see what you can do…”

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em1i2a3 · 1 day ago

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Tree Bones

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

Summary: To keep up with the good PR streak the team has been having, Val sets up an autograph signing and meet and greet for civilians. But when some men start to get a little too close for comfort, Jealous Sentry comes out.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Jealous/Territorial/Protective Sentry, Reader and Bob/Sentry/The Void (of course) are in an established relationship, Sentry is a feral boi and is super touchy,

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up), Oral Sex (female receiving), Fingering, Hair Pulling, Breast/Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Use of Good Girl, Is there Bratty Reader/Brat Tamer Sentry Vibes in here? Yeah, not super prominent but it’s in a playful way, Spitting, Drooling, Choking (not extreme or anything), Biting, Sucking, Sentry is a praiseful lover, Aftercare to the max

Author’s Note: There were so many requests for Jealous Sentry so here it is, all of y’all are being fed in one go lol. Boy oh boy Jealous Sentry is a fun dude to write. Anyways! I hope y’all enjoy <3

Word Count: 10,096

You laid the suit out carefully across your side table, fingertips brushing along the smooth stretch of fabric as though it were something far more delicate than reinforced tactical gear. The material caught in the dim amber light of your bedside lamp–sleek, spandex-like, but threaded with Kevlar in all the right places. A dark, stormy grey formed the base, cool and commanding, but it was the golden-yellow accents that shimmered like wildfire with every shift of the light. They traced along the seams in deliberate, flattering lines–down the ribs, around the waist, along the outer thighs and the underside of the arms–drawing the eye and sculpting your silhouette.

It hugged your body in a way that felt like it had been stitched to your bones. Every curve, every flex of muscle or turn of your hips, were molded in and accounted for. But that was the point. You had not wanted the standard issue, not something baggy or ill-fitting like the first uniform Val had handed to you. You needed something that moved with you–fluid, breathable, built for speed, agility, and presence.

So months ago, you made your requests. Extra flex panels along the knees and lower back to allow for high-impact landings and aerial flips. Reinforced utility belt loops that wouldn’t dig into your waist. An inner lining that wouldn’t stick to your skin when the heat kicked up. A zipper that was functional and secure–because you weren’t about to flash half the world during a press conference again.

And then, the colors.

You remembered standing in front of the mirror when it was first delivered, twisting to the side and letting your eyes trail down the yellow-gold piping along your hips and thighs. It felt like it was made for you–less like armor, more like a second skin. Powerful. Unapologetically you, and it was mixed with a hint of your mission partner in there as well, which made things even more meaningful for you at least. Sentry was head over heels for the little details you put into it, that was for sure.

The public also loved it, and that was one of the main reasons why you were pulling it out for tomorrow’s event.

Val had scheduled the meet-and-greet as part of a broader PR push, something to completely solidify the “Humanity of the team.” You had all been able to keep up good fronts with reporters, and with civilians thanks to a bunch of other events Val had created, and the public missions she sent all of you on to show the team off to the world, but she wanted to keep up the streak, so…The meet-and-greet idea was created, and everyone had to be on board, or else there would just be more PR stunts to do. You didn’t mind being able to interact with civilians though, it came with the territory,

You let out a quiet sigh, smoothing your palm over the fabric one last time before stepping back, only to freeze when the soft sound of the ensuite door creaked open behind you.

Steam curled into the bedroom as Sentry stepped out, his light brown hair damp and sticking to his temples. He was wearing nothing but a low-slung towel around his waist, his body glistening with a few stray water drops that trailed down his pale skin, slipping through the hard lines of his abs. He reached up to his mane of hair, fluffing it with one of your spare towels, scrubbing lazily as he crossed the room, making sure all the droplets of water were sopped. You gave him a small smile as he tossed the towel onto your bed and came up behind you, the head of his bare chest radiating against your back. He looked over your shoulder, his golden eyes tracing the uniform on the side table.

”You’re wearing that tomorrow?” Sentry asked, his voice low, his breath sticking to the nape of your neck. You tilted your head back and smirked up at him, catching the way a droplet of water clung to his temple before sliding down the sharp edge of his jaw.

”Yeah? Is there an issue?” Your tone was playful, but his eyes didn’t flicker, they just remained trained on the uniform with an intensity that made your stomach flutter.

“Can’t you wear the one that’s designed for your cold missions?” You blinked at him, eyebrows raising in disbelief.

”Sentry, it’s literally the middle of summer,” You started, dragging the words out with mock patience, “I’ll die of heatstroke…You’re lucky I’m not deciding to dress for the weather, because I’d be wearing those pretty cutoff shorts you like.” That earned you a groan–low, and guttural, one that vibrated through your back. His arms looped around your waist like a vice, pulling you snug against his chest as his hips pressed flush to your lower back.

”Those are for my eyes only,” He muttered. You hummed, tipping your head to the side as his lips found the crook of your neck, pressing a soft, burning hot kiss to the skin there.

“You sure you can’t wear…A Thunderbolts hoodie or something?” He added between his little ministrations, each one trailing up higher and higher, leaving little wet marks in their wake until he reached your earlobe where he gently nipped at it. You let out a soft little laugh, feeling his tongue poke out to wet the sensitive flesh there.

“We all agreed we’d be wearing our uniforms, remember?” You murmured, the smile evident in your voice, “And besides…You don’t see me complaining about the fact that you’re gonna be wearing your suit. You know–the one that literally clings to every muscle you have.” That earned a chuckle against your skin, but it was strained, like he was trying not to be swayed.

He shook his head, slow and stubborn, nuzzling the spot beneath your jaw as he said, “It’s not the same…”

You twisted in his arms, turning to face him fully. His arms loosened just enough to let you pivot, your palms finding their way to his broad, still-damp shoulders. You looked up at him, squinting as though solving a puzzle, the smirk never leaving your lips.

“Oh…I see,” You said slowly, your tone lilting with mock revelation. “You’re jealous that I’m going to be talking to a lot of men tomorrow.” His golden eyes narrowed, and he let out a sharp huff of air that hit your cheeks with just enough force to feel intentional.

“I’m not jealous,” He grumbled.

You arched a brow.

“I just feel like these people don’t respect our relationship well enough to know not to flirt with a God’s girlfriend,” He added, voice thick with restrained frustration, but there was something soft under the bite. Something like insecurity. Your expression softened, just slightly.

“You know I don’t see anyone else when you’re around, right? I only have eyes for you.” His glowing irises ran over you, brows furrowed, like he was scanning for any trace of doubt, which he found none of…Because he knew you truly meant every word of what you said, especially when it came to him.

His voice was quieter when he replied, “Doesn’t mean they won’t try.” You brushed your fingers through the ends of his damp hair, then down the curve of his neck, collecting little droplets of water and tracing them along his skin.

“Let them try,” You whispered, stepping in closer until there was no space left between you. “It just means I get to remind you that I’m yours when we get back home.” His hands tightened on your waist, possessive and reverent all at once, and he let out a long sigh–a sound laced with something deeper than exasperation. Something vulnerable. Then he dipped his head and kissed you, slow and purposeful, like he was trying to press every word he couldn’t say directly into your lips.

There was nothing rushed about it. Just heat, and devotion, and something unmistakably his–the way his mouth slanted over yours with this quiet gentleness, like you were something fragile. His fingers splayed against your lower back, anchoring you to him, as if he was afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t.

You leaned in, melting into the kiss like it was gravity pulling you down–fingers curling into the damp ends of his hair, lips parting just slightly as you chased him when he finally pulled away.

“Fine… Fine…Wear the uniform…” He muttered, golden eyes still half-lidded with longing. You grinned against his mouth, your forehead brushing his as your hands smoothed up over his shoulders.

“I’ll make it worth your while…As long as you behave at the meet-and-greet though.” He immediately rolled his eyes, exaggerating the gesture tenfold.

”I make no promises.” You let out a little laugh, your hands sliding down to his chest–still damp and warm, and unfairly sculpted.

”I know you’ll try though.” You stated, and he nodded, leaning in again for another kiss.

—————————

Val had set up the meet-and-greet at City Hall with military-grade precision and the polished gleam of a publicist’s fever dream. The courtyard had been converted into a PR battleground–massive Thunderbolts banners hung from the stone columns, fluttering in the late afternoon breeze, while a press team buzzed around the perimeter like wasps in black polos and lanyards. Drones hovered discreetly overhead, capturing aerial shots of the event for the inevitable highlight reel that would air on every national news outlet by morning.

The signing table stretched in an imposing arc across the raised platform at the front of the steps. Covered in sleek, matte black cloth stitched with gold threading that shimmered like wire under the sun, it made all of you look like gods presiding over the mortals below. Each place setting had been arranged with meticulous care–team nameplates, thick marker sets, bottled electrolyte water, and individually labeled portfolios of fan art to flip through between signings.

You were seated near the center of the lineup–wedged tightly between Alexei and Yelena, which meant a steady stream of broken pens courtesy of Alexei and dried sarcasm from Yelena when she was called “Black Widow” instead of her actual name.

Sentry, of course, was stationed all the way at the far end of the table. Val had insisted on separating the two of you “to keep visual balance,” whatever that meant, and positioned him as the anchor of the lineup–last to sign, last to photograph, last to be remembered. It was strategic.

But it also meant he had a direct, uninterrupted view of you.

And he took full advantage of that.

From time to time, you’d glance down the line and find him watching–chin rested on his hand, fingers curled near his mouth, golden eyes fixed on you with a sort of calm intensity that felt like being watched by the sun. Other times, he looked away just before you caught him, only to turn back moments later, gaze sharp and unreadable.

Sometimes mothers passed their babies to you for photos, and you could feel the way his attention softened. The edges of his mouth lifted slightly as you cradled tiny hands, cooed at sleepy eyes, and smiled so brightly that he could’ve sworn he needed sunglasses. His expression in those moments was of absolute adoration–tender and affectionate, with something private blooming behind his eyes from how overwhelming it felt to see you in that position for what was less than a minute per interaction.

But then it would be tarnished by the others that brought on that death stare again.

The men who lingered a little too long.

The ones who complimented your smile but looked at your body like it was a piece of meat they were wanting to consume and steal.

You tried not to let it show that you were bothered or uncomfortable with the interactions, or that you were thinking about Sentry and how his patience was clearly being tested. You just kept your posture even, your voice polite, and your hands moving. But even when you did that you still felt the weight of Sentry’s gaze like a second skin each time. He stared hard at them when they reached his end of the table–brows low, jaw flexed, a stillness to his frame that made it feel like he was so close to getting up and snapping. Like one more sideways comment would be the last straw.

And for a while, he held it together. Barely.

Until one guy, tall and cocky with wraparound sunglasses and a paparazzi cap, leaned across the table with a smirk and said just loud enough to carry:

“Damn. That suit’s working overtime with that body of yours. You wear it just for the missions–or to drive the team crazy?” You paused–pen still in hand, smile frozen mid-motion–as the man’s words hung in the air like the aftermath of a bomb. Up until now, most comments had stayed on the safe side of flattery. Nothing you couldn’t brush off with a polite nod or a rehearsed laugh. But this…This was different. Too forward. Too deliberate. The way his eyes traveled down your body, lingering over the curve of your waist and the seams of your suit, made your stomach twist.

You didn’t have to look to know Sentry had heard it.

You felt it.

Like the sun behind you had suddenly sharpened, gone from warm to blistering. Heat prickled at your back–not from the weather, but from the quiet, simmering rage of a god holding himself in check.

Then, calmly–too calmly–he leaned forward in his chair and called, “Yelena.”

She glanced up, midway through signing a poster, and raised a single eyebrow in reply.

“Do you mind switching spots with me, please?” Sentry asked, his tone polite but dangerously low. Controlled, clipped, the kind of voice that sounded like it had to wade through molten fury just to get out. Yelena looked over at you, her eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to gauge how bad this was about to get. Her expression said Is this going to be a lovers’ spat or a superhuman standoff?

You gave her a small nod and leaned in, whispering just loud enough for her to hear, “He’s not a happy camper with the ogling.”That made her snort, barely containing a laugh.

“No shit,” She muttered under her breath, rising smoothly from her chair. Behind her, Sentry’s jaw ticked when he heard your comment–but he said nothing, golden eyes glowing faintly as he rose and strode toward your side like a man on a mission.

You didn’t even try to hide your smile as he crossed behind the table, swapping places with Yelena in a silent exchange. His cape swept slightly behind him, catching in the breeze, and you caught the faintest glint of gold in the fabric’s threadwork as he dropped into the chair beside you with a subtle but definitive thud.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat.

“Can’t take a break from striking fear into people, can you?” He muttered with a smirk.

Walker, seated just beyond, let out a quiet laugh. “At least he’s consistent with it…” Sentry didn’t even glance at them. He just adjusted the clasp of his navy-blue cape, rested one forearm on the table, and fixed his gaze on the man still lingering in front of you like he hadn’t just made a complete ass of himself.

Your pen resumed its smooth glide across the photo in front of you, but your eyes slid to Sentry’s with a glint of amusement.

“You really are bad at pretending not to care,” You whispered.

He didn’t look at you–still watching the man as he collected his signed photo and finally, awkwardly, moved along.

“Not pretending,” Sentry said flatly. “I don’t care for people treating you like you’re something they get to comment on.” His hand slipped beneath the edge of the tablecloth to rest against your thigh. His palm curved along the muscle, fingers curling possessively as his thumb grazed slow circles against the thin, skintight material of your suit. It wasn’t obscene. It wasn’t even that overt. But it was intentional. A claim made without words. You inhaled a quiet breath through your nose as your thighs pressed together instinctively.

“Sentry,” You murmured from the corner of your mouth, keeping your face angled toward the next fan in line while your hand covered his beneath the table. “It seems like someone’s getting a little territorial.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of clean skin and heat rolling off him in waves, golden eyes flicking to yours just once before dropping to your lips.

“You’re my partner, Y/N,” He said quietly. “Sue me for wanting you all to myself. And for wanting people to treat you with respect.” You gave his hand another squeeze.

”First off,” You murmured, lips barely moving, “You already have me all to yourself.” His golden eyes flicked to yours again–sharp, luminous, and slightly narrowed as though daring you to keep talking. “And second,” You continued, brushing your thumb along his knuckles, “The majority of these people have been fine. A one-off comment shouldn’t make you blow a gasket.” He rolled his eyes, the movement subtle but still laced with exasperation as he tilted his head closer, angling toward you like gravity demanded it.

“It’s been a whole day of you being looked at,” He said under his breath, voice pitched low enough that it vibrated just against your skin. “And it wasn’t just that one comment, you know that.” You turned your head just enough to catch the muscle twitching in his jaw, the steady grip of his hand still firm on your thigh. Protective. Possessive. Warm. You smiled softly.

”Sen…You know I only have eyes for immortal men.” That made his lips twitch, just slightly. But his expression stayed guarded. “These guys?” You nodded your chin toward the dispersing line of civilians. “They’re just having little fantasies in their heads. And that’s all they’ll ever get. You can’t let them get to you. You know they don’t matter.” He stared at you a beat longer, like he needed to drink in the confirmation again for himself–searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. But there wasn’t any. There never was when it came to him.

“I know,” He finally muttered, exhaling slowly. “It’s just… Hard. Watching it all day. Knowing I can’t do anything.”

“You did do something,” You commented with a smile, voice barely above a breath. “You switched seats. Glared. Scared a grown man into silence. Very effective. Very on-brand.” That earned the faintest huff of a laugh from him, his hand relaxing slightly against your thigh as some of the tension bled out of his shoulders.

“Yeah, well…It’s not exactly the image Val’s going for when it comes to me,” He grumbled.

“Maybe not. But it’s the image I like.” You replied with a smirk, he lifted his brow.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” You murmured, shifting your knee to press against his beneath the table. “It’s kind of hot.”

His eyes glinted.

And for a second–just a second–you saw it: the pulse of gold flickering faintly along the edge of his pupils, like light filtering through liquid.

“Careful,” He warned, voice low and rough. “You say things like that and I might forget we’re still in public.” You smirked, letting your thumb drag just a little more deliberately across the back of his hand beneath the table, nails grazing the faint raised lines of his knuckles. Then you tilted your head, voice light but laced with provocation.

“Don’t provoke me,” You murmured sweetly. “I may start flirting back with these guys just to get you ramped up a little more.”

His head turned toward you, slowly.

Golden eyes locked onto yours, glowing just faintly in the sun-drenched shadow of the tented booth, and his expression went from smoldering to downright dangerous in a heartbeat.

“You’d be playing a very dangerous game,” He informed, brows rising in a show of mock civility that didn’t quite mask the tightly coiled tension in his jaw.

You shrugged, unbothered. Defiant.

“So?” You questioned, your voice dipped low and syrupy. “You already switched seats like a possessive boyfriend…Might as well make it worth your while.” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his fingers tensed slightly on your thigh again–no longer just possessive, but practically daring.

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” He said, his voice a velvet threat. “Because if you do, I won’t be subtle about reminding everyone who you belong to.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” You whispered, chin tilted up now, smiling like you already knew the answer. Sentry leaned in–closer than before, his mouth barely a breath from your ear, his voice smooth as silk and hot as sunfire.

“It’s both,” He murmured. “And you know I always keep my promises.” You inhaled sharply, the words hitting a nerve that sent a slow burn curling down your spine. The next fan in line stepped forward, blissfully unaware of the searing tension beneath the table, and you plastered on your PR smile like nothing had happened.

But Sentry stayed close.

And his hand…Didn’t move.

Instead, it slid just a touch higher.

“You’re evil,” You said under your breath, biting the inside of your cheek as your hand gripped his wrist lightly to keep him in check. He chuckled low, bumping his temple against yours for the briefest second like he could pretend this wasn’t driving him just as crazy.

“You’re the one who poked the dragon, sweetheart,” he said, lifting your hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gesture that looked chaste to onlookers…But was anything but innocent.

————————

The rest of the meet-and-greet went as well as it could, considering the tension bubbling beneath the surface.

A few more fans flirted–some subtle, others less so. One complimented the color scheme of your suit but clearly didn’t mean the suit. Another asked if they could get a picture “with arms around your waist,” and you had responded with a practiced smile and an evasive pivot, but not before glancing at Sentry just to see the way his jaw locked and his eyes went molten.

You might have leaned into it just a little.

Nothing overt. Nothing that would get you chewed out by Val later. But you let your smile linger longer. Let your laugh ring a touch sweeter. Let your hips stay cocked in that suit he hated and loved so much. Just to watch him seethe in that tightly reined, godly way he did when the rest of the world forgot that you were his.

By the time the event wrapped and the Thunderbolts were herded into the blacked-out SUVs waiting curbside, you could feel Sentry’s patience thinning like glass under a blowtorch.

When the team stepped into the Watchtower’s front atrium, still buzzing with post-event debrief chatter, you didn’t even hesitate.

You took one look at him, saw the rigid way he was holding himself, the faint flush high on his cheekbones, the sheer tension in the lines of his shoulders and arms–and you knew. If you so much as said one more teasing word, he’d snap.

So instead, you turned to the team with a sunny smile and said, “We’re gonna skip dinner. Bit of a headache. Goodnight, everyone!”

“Headache?” Yelena deadpanned, brow arching. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You didn’t even bother to answer. Just flashed her a grin, grabbed Sentry by the wrist, and pulled him down the hall toward your shared quarters. You didn’t look back, but you heard Bucky mutter, “They better reinforce the bed frame,” followed by Alexei’s hearty laugh and Walker’s amused, “Ten bucks says they don’t make it past the door.”

You reached your room with brisk steps, the door whooshing shut behind you like a final seal on your intentions. The moment it clicked into place, you turned–

Only to be pinned.

Sentry was on you before you could blink, hands flat against the wall on either side of your head, golden eyes burning down into yours.

“That was cruel,” He murmured, voice low, raw, and aching with the restraint he’d been holding onto all day. You tilted your chin up innocently, lips parted just slightly.

“What was?” You asked, he stepped in closer–his chest brushing yours, the heat from his body radiating through your uniform. His hand came up slowly, deliberately–fingertips brushing the edge of your jaw before sliding around the column of your throat. Not tight. Not forceful. Just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. To make you feel it. His thumb grazed beneath your ear, his golden eyes locked onto yours with a hunger that looked like it had been gnawing at him since the moment the event began.

“You know exactly what, Y/N…” He murmured, voice a molten thread of restraint and ache. “You were trying to make me jealous…You were trying to make me go crazy.” Your bottom lip slipped slowly between your teeth, biting down just enough to sting as your tongue darted out to wet it. The heat in your belly coiled tighter, rising fast under the weight of his touch, the rumble in his chest, the burning look in his eyes.

“Well…” You whispered, letting the word hang in the air between you like smoke, “judging by this reaction… I’d say I did make you jealous. And I did make you go crazy.” His hand squeezed–not hard, just enough to make your breath stutter, just enough to make your back arch ever so slightly off the wall as your thighs pressed together from the sudden jolt of pleasure that lit down your spine. The air felt thick with the electricity sparking between your bodies.

“You enjoy it,” He growled softly, head tilting as his mouth dipped closer to yours. “You get off on it, don’t you? You like when I get all possessive and jealous–so wound up I’m one second away from tearing your suit off in front of the whole team just to remind them who you belong to. Hmm?” You let out a breathy little giggle, unable to stop the smile curling up your lips. One hand slipped up to cradle the back of his neck, your fingertips threading into the still-damp curls at his nape.

“You already know the answer to that,” You whispered, voice dripping with heat and mischief. His thumb pressed gently against the pulse point beneath your jaw, feeling the fluttering beat that gave you away.

“Oh I do,” He started, dipping his head so that his lips brushed your ear and his hot breath could stick to your skin, “But I wanna hear you say it.” He added. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as a shiver rippled through you, your heart hammering against your chest at the closeness.

“I love when you get jealous,” You admitted , your voice a breath against his cheek. “I love when you lose control over me. When you look at me like you’re going to devour me. When you remind me–” Your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck, your tone dropping to a sultry murmur, “–just how much I belong to you.” A low, guttural hum rumbled deep in his ches–ta sound that vibrated against your sternum and sent heat lashing down your spine like a brand. His hand at your throat loosened, fingers dragging down in a slow glide until they settled at the curve of your waist. His other arm looped around behind you, drawing you in until the last sliver of space between you vanished and his mouth crashed into yours.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, or patient, it was all teeth and heat and molten need that was barely held back by the thinnest thread of control. Sentry’s lips slanted over yours with bruising intent, tongue licking into your mouth like he was starving for the taste of you. He kissed like a man who waited years to devour you. Like every repressed thought, every jealous glance, every time he had clenched his fists under the table to keep from grabbing you…Was finally being unleashed.

You moaned into it, hands flying up to the clasps at his shoulders, fumbling only once before you unhooked the first one, then the second. His cape dropped to the floor with a soft thud, and before you could say a word, his hands were at the backs of your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. You gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pinned you tighter to the wall for a breathless second–grinding just enough to make you shiver–before turning and striding across the room.

When he dropped you onto the mattress the bed creaked under the force of it, the squeak of the springs loud in the quiet room, but it was nothing compared to the heat rolling off him as he followed you down–hovering over you like a storm cloud about to burst.

His mouth found yours again in a frenzy–hot, breathless, feral. There was nothing neat about it this time. No restraint. No mercy. Just raw need and open mouths colliding, your lips parting with a gasp as his tongue slid back in, messier now, wetter. He licked into you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to taste every word you’d moaned under your breath that day, to erase every look those men had thrown your way. His teeth caught your bottom lip–bit down just enough to sting–before sucking it between his own, pulling a groan from deep in your chest.

Saliva clung to both your mouths as he pulled back a fraction, his lips pink and swollen, panting against your cheek. And then he was speaking–whispering–but it wasn’t soft.

It was dirty. Rough. Desperate.

“You have no idea what you did to me today,” He growled, dragging the back of his hand down the length of your thigh as his other reached up–slow, deliberate–toward the zipper at the base of your throat. “Sitting there like a fucking goddess. Smiling. Laughing. Letting them stare.”

He tugged the zipper down with a zzzzrrip, slow and precise, his golden eyes locked on the line of skin he was revealing inch by inch. The suit parted down your sternum like a prayer answered in reverse, and he chased the trail with his mouth–pressing open, wet kisses along every patch of bare skin he exposed. His breath hitched at your collarbone. His tongue slid hot between the valley of your breasts. He nipped just beneath one with enough force to make you gasp.

“I should’ve ripped this fucking thing off you in the middle of the event,” he rasped, his lips dragging lower with every word. “Pinned you to that goddamn table. Let everyone see who you really belong to.”

Your back arched into his mouth, trembling, every nerve ending on fire beneath the wet heat of his tongue and the sharp little bites of his teeth.

“I saw the way you looked at me when they flirted. You wanted me to snap.”

“I did want it,” You breathed, your hands fisting in the bedsheets, voice a wrecked little whisper. “I wanted you to lose it. I wanted you to take it out on me.”

“Good,” He snarled against your ribs, the zipper finally stopping at your hips. He sat back on his knees, chest heaving, hands sliding under your shoulders to lift you just enough that he could peel the suit off–slow, punishing almost.

The fabric whispered off your skin as he dragged it down your arms, your waist, over your hips and thighs, baring inch after inch of skin to the fevered gleam in his eyes–until the suit was a puddle at your ankles.

And you were left in nothing but a black, lacy thong.

He froze.

His jaw clenched.

Then he let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head slowly, golden eyes blazing as they flicked from your hips to your chest to your face.

“That’s all you’ve been wearing under this all day?” He asked, voice husky with disbelief. Lust. You nodded, biting your lip–both teasing and breathless–as your hands reached up and around him, finding the zipper of his suit between his shoulder blades. You pulled it down slowly, the tight seams of his uniform parting beneath your fingers like melted wax.

“Of course I did,” You whispered, dragging your nails down the firm curve of his back as the zipper reached its end. “I wore them for you.”

That did something to him. His eyes squeezed shut like he was physically trying to control the heat rushing through him, his chest rising and falling with labored breath as his head dropped forward. A soft, incredulous sound left his throat–a dark, near-broken laugh.

“Such a cunning little thing,” He muttered, shaking his head slowly, golden strands brushing his cheek as he stared down at you with something feral glinting in his gaze. Something worshipful. Wrecked.

You let out a breathy laugh, feigning innocence even as your fingers toyed with the thick belt still cinched around his waist–the one that bore his insignia, solid and gleaming. With slow, deliberate hands, you unbuckled it. The metallic clink echoed in the quiet room as it fell to the floor with a weighty finality.

He didn’t wait.

He shrugged the rest of his suit off in one smooth, practiced motion–fabric peeling from his shoulders, down his waist, past his hips–until it joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor. All that remained were th black briefs that hugged his hips, stretched taut around his erection that was straining against the fabric.

Your breath caught, as it always did.

No matter how many times you’d seen him like this–stripped down, golden eyes dark with need, skin still bearing faint traces of starlight and storm–you never quite adjusted. He was unreal. A god through and through. Carved muscle and shimmering tension, pale skin peppered with freckles across his chest, his arms, the dips of his hips like constellations mapped only for you.

You reached up with a gentle hand, fingers trailing down the warm, solid plane of his chest. The ridges of his abs flexed beneath your touch, his body responding like a bowstring drawn tight as your palm splayed flat over his sternum.

“You’re so beautiful,” You murmured, voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He leaned down, climbing back over you with a kind of slow, possessive gravity–his body draping yours, all heat and hunger and that impossible weight that came with him. You spread your thighs to cradle his hips, his warmth seeping into every inch of you.

Sentry pressed a kiss to your lips–quick, but full of tension, like he couldn’t afford to linger there too long. Then his mouth began to trail lower. Down your jaw. Over your neck. His tongue flicked at your pulse point before he sucked gently, leaving a faint mark that made your breath hitch.

And then he reached your chest.

His mouth found your breast like he’d been starving for it. His tongue curled around your nipple before his lips sealed over it, sucking slow and deep while his hand came up to cup the other. Your back arched off the bed, the sound that tore from your throat half gasp, half whimper.

“You’re mine,” He growled against your skin, his voice vibrating through your breast. “No one else gets to look at you like this…No one else gets to have you like this.”

You moaned his name, fingers gripping his hair as he dragged his mouth across your chest to lavish your other breast with the same type of care. Tongue flicking, sucking, biting just enough to make your thighs tense around his waist. You let out a soft whimper, the tension in your belly winding tighter with each second, coiling like a live wire as Sentry’s lips slid wetly down your sternum, over the dip of your stomach. He dragged his tongue deliberately across every scar you bore–each little raised line a testament to past battles, near-misses, and the stubbornness that had kept you breathing. And he worshipped every one of them like they were sacred.

His mouth pressed slow kisses to each mark, his tongue tracing the faded outlines with maddening precision. The slick warmth of it made you tremble, breath shallow, your fingers clutching the sheets beneath you.

When he reached the waistband of your underwear, he didn’t hesitate. He hooked his thumbs beneath the lace and yanked them down your thighs with a roughness that made you gasp. The fabric bunched in his fist, and for a second, he just stared at them–then brought them to his face, inhaling deep with a growl that was all hunger and ache and awe.

“Fuck…” He muttered, his golden eyes flashing molten. “Makes my fucking mouth water.” His voice was hoarse, his fingers flexing around the damp scrap of fabric. “You always smell so fucking good. Your body calls to me every second of the goddamn day. It makes me weak.”

And then he dropped to his knees.

A god–immortal, unstoppable–on his knees at the edge of the bed, arms curling under your thighs as he dragged you to him in one smooth motion. Your legs fell open without resistance, spread wide by the sheer force of him, your breath catching as cool air met heated skin.

He pressed a kiss to your knee first–tender and deceptively soft–before trailing more down your inner thigh, his breath hot, his mouth open. Every kiss got sloppier, more desperate. He bit, sucked, nipped, leaving wet, flushed marks in his wake. And then he looked up at you from between your legs, hair mussed and damp, his mouth shiny with spit, and said in a voice that sounded like sin incarnate:

“You know how much power you have over me?”

You blinked down at him, shaking your head slowly, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath you tried to catch.

A sharp smile curled his lips.

“You have brought a god to his knees just by spreading your legs…” His mouth hovered just above the apex of your thighs now, breath washing over you like fire. His eyes never left yours–glowing, starved. “You’re such a powerful fucking mortal…Fucking love it.” Your thighs twitched in his grip, muscles fluttering from how hard your body ached for him. And then finally he ducked his head, his mouth descending like a promise.

The first pass of his tongue over your folds was slow–too slow. A wet, languid drag from bottom to top, thick and deliberate, just to taste you. And fuck, the sound he made. It was guttural. Like he’d been starving for this and didn’t know how to pace himself. His grip on your thighs tightened as he moaned into your core, like the flavor of you was a drug that hit too fast and too hard.

“Goddamn…” He groaned, breath hot against your core. “You always taste like heaven and sin, wrapped in one filthy, perfect body.” His nose pressed into your mound as his tongue lapped at you again, a little faster now, messier, wetter–soaked with spit and slick. His jaw worked with a slow rhythm, but his eyes…His eyes were ravenous.

Only he got to look at you like this. Only he got to spread you wide and bury his face between your thighs like a man possessed.

“Mine,” He muttered against your folds, voice nearly slurred from the way he was devouring you. “Only I get to have this. This pussy…This perfect fucking pussy…Was made for me.” Your head tipped back against the sheets with a choked moan, hips jolting upward instinctively. His tongue circled your clit before flicking it fast, relentless, teasing it with firm little lashes that made your thighs twitch. You could barely catch your breath, not with the way he mouthed at you like a beast–no restraint, no pause, just need.

“Sentry–” Your voice cracked, trembling. Your hand flew to his hair, tangling tight in the still-damp strands as your other clutched at the sheets. He growled when you pulled him closer, the vibration sending a shockwave through your entire body.

“You like that?” He panted between licks. “You like riding my face like this? Grinding up into my tongue like a needy little thing that just wants my fingers?” You whimpered something between yes and more, but he was already giving it to you–already dragging two fingers up through your slick folds before plunging them deep inside with a wet, sinful squelch.

“Fuck–yes,” You gasped, back arching off the mattress as he curled them just right, pressing into that devastating spot that made your thighs shake. He groaned again, low and full, mouth working around your clit like he couldn’t get enough of the way you pulsed against his tongue. Every time you rocked your hips into his mouth, he met the motion with his own–tongue flicking faster, fingers fucking deeper.

“You feel that?” He growled, voice wrecked, hot breath sticky against your core. “Only I know this spot. Only I know how to make your whole fucking body tremble.” He angled his fingers just so, brushing your front wall with devastating precision. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna come all over my face like a good girl?” You were past speech–just panting, whimpering, grinding harder against his mouth, against his hand. Your body was thrumming like a live wire, strung tight, seconds from snapping. He felt it. He knew.

That’s when he brought his free hand up–sliding up your stomach, over the curve of your breast–and grabbed you. Full, possessive, thumb brushing your nipple with just enough pressure to make you cry out.

You slapped your hand over his, pressing it harder to your chest as your hips stuttered beneath him. He squeezed back, groaning into your core like the connection turned him feral.

“Oh fuck…Fuck Sentry…” you gasped, heels digging into the sheets as you tugged his hair with your other hand, dragging him closer, deeper.

“That’s it,” he hissed, mouth soaked with your slick. “Use me, baby. Ride my face. Show me how much this pussy needs me.”

You did. God, you did. Your hips rolled up into his mouth with frantic desperation, thighs trembling around his head as his tongue latched onto your clit again–this time fast, sloppy, flicking and flattening in dizzying rhythm.

The pressure snapped all at once.

You came with a cry, your whole body seizing as your orgasm crashed through you like a fucking freight train. Your hips bucked up into his face, grinding against his mouth as your core spasmed around his fingers, soaking him in waves. It was messy. Loud. Completely unrestrained.

And he took it all.

Groaned like a man starved and drank down every drop.

Your thighs quivered uncontrollably around his head as you whimpered, body twitching beneath the overstimulation. He didn’t stop–not at first. He licked you through it, riding the rhythm of your release like he was chasing his own high from the taste alone. Only when your grip in his hair tugged–shaky, wordless, trembling–did he finally ease up.

He pulled back slowly, panting, lips shiny, chin drenched, eyes wild with something unholy.

You stared down at him, breathless, ruined, still spread wide on the bed with your thighs twitching from the aftershocks.

He licked his lips. Smirked.

Then dragged his mouth up your trembling thigh and whispered “You always quench my thirst so well, my love…”You smiled down at him, dragging your fingers through his hair, smoothing back the damp strands clinging to his temple.

”Well, you do a good job earning it,” You murmured, still breathless, a crooked little smirk tugging at your lips. That pulled another soft chuckle from him–low and warm like thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Damn right I do,” He said pridefully, before leaning in again.

His mouth resumed its path up your body like it couldn’t stay away–kissing along your inner thighs, the dips of your hips, your lower belly. Each press of his lips was followed by a little nip, then a soft suck, just enough to draw the blood to the surface. You could already feel the faint bruises blossoming beneath his mouth like little cosmic marks, proof that you’d been worshipped by a god who couldn’t help but claim you one inch at a time.

By the time he reached your chest again, your hands were in his hair, gripping, urging, your nails grazing lightly over his scalp. He moaned against your skin, hot and heavy, before finally meeting your lips once more.

It was messy and desperate, the taste of yourself still thick and slick on his mouth. You didn’t care. You welcomed it, deepening the kiss until your tongues were sliding against one another, wet and ravenous. He kissed you like he needed it to breathe. Like his whole soul was tangled in the way your mouth moved under his.

You arched up against him, your bare chest flush to his, sweat-slick skin sliding together as his hips rolled down into yours–his cock still trapped inside the tight stretch of his briefs, grinding hard against your slick folds. You gasped against his mouth, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist again.

“Sentry…You’re so fucking hard.” You whimpered, breath catching as your hips bucked up into him. He pulled back with a ragged inhale, pupils blown, golden irises blazing.

“I know…And I can’t take much more.” His hand slid between your bodies, and he pushed the waistband of his briefs down, inch by inch, until they were low enough for his cock to spring free.

You couldn’t help the sound you made.

It was beautiful.

So painfully hard, flushed deep red at the tip, already leaking pre-cum that glistened in the low light as it beaded and dripped along his length. It twitched against his stomach, like it knew how close it was to where it belonged. He looked down at you, wild-eyed and wrecked, then slid both hands under your ass–lifting you in one smooth motion like you weighed nothing to him.

You let out a soft gasp, hands flying to his shoulders as your soaked core came down against the thick heat of his cock, your folds dragging along the underside of it, smearing arousal over every inch.

“Oh my god,” You choked, shivering as the blunt head brushed your clit on the upstroke. He groaned–full-bodied, like he was dying from the contact–and then adjusted you higher, angling his hips, guiding your thighs until they folded wide around his waist. One arm wrapped tight around your lower back to keep you upright.

Your bodies melded together, chest to chest, legs tangled around his hips as his cock pressed between your folds again, rutting slowly, dragging through the slick mess he’d made of you. You could feel the head catching on your entrance with every pass. His forehead dropped to yours, breath panting, fingers splayed along your spine.

“Just like this,” He whispered hoarsely. “Wanna come inside you like this. Wrapped around me…Looking me in the eyes when you take me.”

You whimpered, arms winding around his neck as you ground down on him, rubbing your clit along his length. “Do it. I want you inside me. Please, Sentry–”

He didn’t make you beg again.

His hand slid down between your bodies, guiding the head of his cock to your entrance.

And then, with one slow, devastating thrust…He pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp as he filled you inch by inch, stretching you with a burn so perfect you thought you might cry. He groaned deep in his throat, his whole body trembling, like the sensation of your heat around him was too much to bear.

“Fuck, baby,” He panted, jaw clenched, golden eyes squeezed shut. “You feel so fucking good…Your pussy is fucking taking me so well…”

You pressed your forehead to his, hips rolling instinctively, breath hitching as you took every inch. Your body welcomed him like it had been made to, your walls fluttering around his cock like you never wanted him to leave.

He bottomed out inside you with a slow grind, the thick length of him seated so deep that your breath caught in your throat. Your walls pulsed around him, overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the intimacy of being wrapped around someone who worshipped you like you were made from starlight itself.

His breath hitched–a soft, strained sound–and he dipped his head, lips dragging along your collarbone as your fingers threaded through the soft golden strands of his hair.

You rocked against him slowly, chest pressed to his, your soaked folds squeezing around the root of his cock as you moved. His body trembled beneath your hands, and a few soft whimpers slipped past his lips–fragile things that felt too intimate to witness. Then, with a little pop, he pulled off your skin, panting against your throat before lifting his head.

His hand pressed firmly to the small of your back, grounding you to him as he leaned back just enough to look at you–his golden eyes glowing faintly with heat and something deeper.

“Tell me who you belong to,” He murmured, low and husky, the words slipping between his teeth like a command layered in plea. His hips rolled upward, slow but deep, and you gasped as the stretch renewed its burn inside you.

Your back arched instinctively from the pressure, your breasts perking up in the space between your chests as he bent forward, his tongue dragging up the valley between them–hot, slow, possessive. You moaned softly, your nails grazing his scalp.

“I belong to you, Sentry,” You breathed, head tipping back slightly. “Only you… Always.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

He rutted up into you with more force this time, the slow friction driving you higher as his free hand came down to anchor your hip. His fingers curled around your skin with the same reverence he touched holy things–with care, with need, with silent awe.

“Tell me,” He gritted through his teeth, “Who’s the only one that loves you like this?” You whimpered, voice breaking as you felt his teeth graze the underside of your breast. He nipped–just sharp enough to make your whole body jerk, the sting mixing with the pleasure until you were dizzy with it.

“Y-You,” You gasped. “Just you. Nobody else can love me like you do.”

His eyes flicked up at you from beneath dark lashes, glowing and wrecked and so, so full of something you couldn’t name without breaking. He hummed softly against your skin, lips soothing the spot he bit with a slow lick, and the sound he made was pure satisfaction.

“That’s right,” He murmured. “Only me.” His next thrust was deep–so deep you gasped, your hands clenching against his shoulders, nails biting into the warm skin stretched over muscle. His chest heaved against yours, eyes locked on your face like he couldn’t bear to look away, couldn’t risk missing the way you unraveled beneath him. You felt the tremble in his arms as he pressed forward again, slow but so firm, grounding you to him like he needed you tethered. And then his voice–ragged, tender, full of reverent filth–spilled over your skin.

“Open your mouth, Y/N…” He whispered, the words almost pleading, almost reverent. “Let me be in the places where I can’t reach.”

Your breath caught.

You nodded–slow, obedient, already pliant beneath him–and parted your lips, eyes still wide and locked to his. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, and a shudder ran through him as he leaned closer, golden eyes half-lidded and blown wide with awe and want. His tongue dipped out just slightly, and then–

He drooled into your mouth.

Warm, slow, deliberate.

It spilled from his tongue and into you, and you drank it without hesitation–swallowed it down like it was something sacred, like it was a gift. The heat of it slid down your throat, thick and claiming, and you whimpered softly at the sensation, your body arching instinctively into his as his hand slid up–his fingers wrapping around the column of your throat, not squeezing, just holding. Just feeling.

“Always so beautiful when you take me like that…” He murmured, voice rasping as his thumb stroked along your jaw. “When you’re so drunk on my love that you’d be willing to do anything to prove to me that you’re mine.”

You let out a broken sound–a breathy, desperate whimper–as your legs tightened around his waist, as your hands curled at the base of his neck, grounding yourself to him with every trembling touch.

“Always want to show you,” You said breathlessly, lips brushing his, your words thick with need, “How much of me you already have.”

His golden eyes softened, almost in disbelief. He let out a sound between a groan and a hum, low and full of something dangerous and divine.

“You’re such a good girl…” He whispered, his voice thick with pride and lust and something more fragile buried underneath. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Then his hips snapped up.

Harder now–deeper. You gasped again, eyes flying wide, mouth falling open as the stretch of him rocked through you with punishing heat. He was still holding your throat gently, keeping your gaze locked to his like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

His thrusts began to speed up, each one grounding into you with a fervent rhythm–steady, consuming, every stroke angled to drive you out of your mind. Skin slapped against skin, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, and your moans were swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you again, messy and open-mouthed, teeth clacking when the thrusts jolted your bodies too hard.

You could feel it building again, that tidal pull in your core, the swell of him inside you pushing you closer with every stroke–but he was closer. You could feel it in the tension of his body, the way his chest heaved against yours, the guttural, choked sounds leaving his throat.

And then–his hand clutched your hip, the other still at your throat like a brand–and he buried himself to the hilt with a low, wrecked moan.

He came with a shudder, his cock pulsing deep inside you as his release spilled in hot, thick waves. You felt every spurt–felt the heat of it flood your core, filling you so full it made your breath catch, made your head fall back as you gasped through the fullness. He stayed buried there, grinding shallowly as he rode it out, pressing into you like he could force himself deeper, like he wanted to leave nothing untouched.

You were both gasping now–panting against each other’s skin, trembling and drenched in sweat and bliss.

Your arms curled tighter around him as his head dropped to your shoulder, breath hot and ragged in your ear. His cock twitched inside you with the aftershocks, and he groaned again–quiet, reverent, broken.

“…You always undo me,” He whispered, voice frayed at the edges. “Every damn time.”

You kissed his temple, heart still thundering, your voice raw as you replied, “That’s because you’re mine.” He hummed softly at your words, nose brushing your temple as the faintest smile played on his lips.

“Eternally,” He murmured, the word slipping from his mouth like a vow–ancient and indelible. Your smile deepened, slow and soft, as your bodies rocked gently together–no longer with urgency, but in the calming aftershock, the closeness that lingered when everything else had quieted. Your arms were still wrapped around him, your breath syncing with his as your heartbeat gradually slowed beneath your ribs.

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of skin against skin and the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek. Then he shifted slightly, his hand stroking over your back before pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“I’m going to quickly step into the ensuite,” He said softly, his voice a little hoarse, a little tender. “Get some damp towels so I can clean you up.”

You nodded, sleepy and content. “I’d really like that.”

He smiled and gave you a gentle kiss–quick and sweet–before easing you off his lap. He helped guide you back against the pillows with infinite care, making sure you were comfortable before he stood. You watched him cross the room in that slow, post-bliss shuffle, his golden form glowing faintly even in the dim light.

The door to the ensuite clicked open, and you heard the soft splash of running water, the muted wringing of washcloths beneath his strong hands. You exhaled slowly, the sheets warm beneath you, your body humming with the echo of everything he’d given you.

Then he returned–naked, hair still damp, and eyes full of something quiet and tender. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and placed the towels beside him, murmuring a soft “Okay, sweetheart…” as he gently nudged your thighs apart.

You let him open you to him, pliant under his touch. The warm cloth met your skin, and you let out a small breath as he wiped you down—soft, deliberate strokes, reverent and unhurried. He was watching you the whole time, golden eyes fixed between your legs, entranced by the sight of his come slipping from your body in slow, unbidden pulses. He caught every drop, cleaned every inch–never rushing, never faltering, like it was a privilege to take care of you this way.

Once he’d wiped the last of it away, he stood again, crossed to the hamper and dropped the cloths inside. Then he returned, slipping under the covers with you, body warm and solid beside yours.

You immediately curled into him, your head finding its place over his heart, the steady rhythm beneath your ear grounding you in a way nothing else ever could. His arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, one hand sliding up and down your spine as he breathed you in.

For a few minutes, you both just stayed there, bathed in quiet and closeness, the scent of sex and skin still lingering in the air.

Then, out of nowhere, his voice broke the silence–soft, musing.

“You know what a positive thing was from today?” He asked, his tone thoughtful. You looked up at him, brow raised, a smile tugging at your lips.

“No… What was the positive?” His mouth curved into a grin, wide and boyish and just a little bashful.

“The positive was me getting to see you holding a bunch of babies…” You laughed softly, eyes scrunching with the sound.

“Of course it was…Did it give you ideas?” He hummed, brushing your hair back with a gentle hand.

“Tons…” His eyes darkened a little, the grin turning wicked. “Because once you’re off the pill I think I’m going to have you carrying my child within less than twenty-four hours.” You blinked–then let out a startled, breathless laugh, your hand swatting lightly at his chest.

“Oh my God, Sentry…” He just chuckled, unrepentant, golden eyes gleaming as he pulled you closer.

“What?” He murmured against your hair. “Just being honest…You can’t blame me for wanting that.”

You shook your head, and said “We’ll see…”