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Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds | Sentry/John Walker (SentryAgent)
Summary: “What’s so funny?” He demands, a growling bite to his words that should serve as a warning to Bob, but he’s never been smart enough to heed warnings.
“It’s just, I used to fuck guys like you in prison.”
Bob’s laughter cuts through the tense atmosphere and John’s head snaps around to glare at him.
“What’s so funny?” He demands, a growling bite to his words that should serve as a warning to Bob, but he’s never been smart enough to heed warnings.
“It’s just, I used to fuck guys like you in prison.”
John, who had been gearing up to storm over and shoot that weirdo in the head freezes at those words. It’s not the words necessarily, it’s how casually it’s said. It’s a threat is what it is, and that stupid Bob guy looks far too confident and calm for John to not take it seriously.
Yelena and Ava look at John with raised brows, waiting to see what he’ll say to that. It’s not that he’s a coward, it’s just that he knows there are certain battles worth waging and this one isn’t.
He clears his throat, “Whatever, you fucking freak. Let’s just figure out how to get out of here.”
And the whole scenario should just go to the back of his mind and be something he just forgets about, but he doesn’t. Not even after getting his assed kicked by the Sentry and then having to save the world from the Void. Not even after months of New Avengers work where he’s finally getting some good PR and decent jobs that don’t require him shadily murdering random scientists that Valentina decides are a liability.
Those words just continue to echo through his head, ‘I used to fuck guys like you in prison’.
John has gotten known Bob, has gotten to learn to his timid awkward presence in the tower. Despite all the signs pointing to the contrary, John does not for even a second doubt that that statement Bob made all those months ago is true. Seeing his angrier, more unhinged side as the Sentry really cemented it. And in prison with probably no access to his bipolar meds, John fully believes that Bob made bitches of every single inmate in his cell block.
Which leads him to his most embarrassing secret–he wants Bob to fuck him.
Not in a nice way either, he wants the Sentry. He wants cruel, mean Bob to rearrange his insides while spitting on him and telling him how pathetic he is. He wants to be fucked like those guys Bob used to fuck in prison.
John ends up using his shiny New Avengers paycheck money to try and find a solution to his “Bob” problem. Thank every god out there for discrete packaging. He thinks he’d literally kill himself if any of the others found out about his purchase.
When the box finally arrives, he tries to be as casual as possible as he collects it from the pile of mail sitting on the kitchen counter. Outwardly, he looks a little bored, but inside his heart is hammering away. Bob looks up from the dishes he’s washing with a frown. Before he can say anything, John is retreating to his room with his package in tow.
John immediately rips into the box as soon as he’s alone. The website had advertised it as being made with material to feel like real skin, and when he gets the hard plastic casing around it open, he does have to admit it feels very skin-like. The dildo itself, though, is large and weighty with a suction cup base and veins all along the shaft.
His mouth waters at the sight of it, already imagining it’s Bob’s cock. He thinks about him grabbing John by the hair and forcing him to his knees. And he could, with his inhuman strength, and John would be helpless.
He starts licking up and down the dildo, picturing Bob looming above him, imposing and arrogant as he was when he was Sentry. He starts working it into his mouth, roughly forcing it as far back as possible. He chokes but he doesn’t let up because he wouldn’t want Bob to let up. He’d want him to fuck his face–to use him like he used those guys in prison.
He barely gets started in his fantasy when he’s interrupted by a knocking on his door. He yanks the dildo out of his mouth and scrambles to hide the evidence of it. He shoves it under his duvet and shakes himself out, trying to look normal. He does have to tuck his boner into the waistband of his jeans to hide that bit of evidence.
He answers the door with a scowl, “What?”
Bob is standing on the other side of the door, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Hey…”
John’s eyebrows cock up in annoyance, “Yes?”
Bob tugs at his sleeves nervously and god above, John hates that this absolute wet noodle of a man is his ultimate sex fantasy.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay-“
John cuts him off, “I’m fine, Jesus Christ is this why you’re bothering me, Bobby?”
Bob’s teeth grind hard in his mouth at that, and his eyes flash golden for a second and oh–
John can’t stop himself from poking the metaphorical sleeping bear.
“What, you think I need you of all people to check on me? What a joke.”
Bob’s face starts to twitch into a snarl but he blinks rapidly and visibly tries to shake off the anger, “Knock it off.”
“Or what, Bobby? You gonna fuck me like those guys you used to fuck in prison?”
That comes out of him without his permission, a sort of Freudian slip except it was more of a straight confession.
Bob looks stunned at the comment before his eyes flash golden again, “You really don’t know what you’re asking for, Walker. Stop now while you’re ahead.”
John laughs meanly and crosses his arms, “Make me.”
Famous last words and all that as John, faster than his brain is capable of processing, finds himself flung onto his bed with Bob– no, Sentry, pinning him down and with his hand wrapped around John’s neck. John instinctively goes to fight back but Sentry is, as established, way faster and stronger than him and incapacitates him embarrassingly quick.
“This is your final warning–“
As Sentry shifts to loom over him, he feels something hard under the duvet of the bed. Reaching down he yanks it back and lets out a chuckle at what he sees.
“Is this seriously what has you all worked up today?” Sentry wags the dildo in Johns face, “You really are just so pathetic.”
The moan that escapes him is entirely involuntary and he knows his face is cherry red from it. Sentry just looks stunned, like his brain has blue screened or something. The mutant’s head tilts to the side as he assesses John far more closely.
“You’re just a horny little dog, aren’t you, Walker? ‘Goading me, baiting me, for what? Do you think I’ll fuck you?”
John looks away in shame but Sentry’s hand squeezes his face roughly and yanks it to face him, “I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” Walker eventually mutters, the shame of months of sexual repression flooding him all at once.
Sentry releases his face and leans back, looking down at him with those glowing, golden eyes.
“Well, Walker, you’re going to have to earn it. Show me what a good little dog you are.”
He climbs up off the bed and stands in the middle of his bedroom. John doesn’t need to be told twice as he scrambles onto the floor, crawling up to Sentry on his knees and kneeling at his feet.
Sentry hums and with a quick flick of his hand, opens his pants. John surges forward, yanking them down and messily sucking down his semi hard cock in one go. The dildo has nothing on Sentry, the silicon could never compare to the heat and salt and size of him. He moans pathetically as he rushes to take him as far as he’ll go and Sentry just runs his fingers through John’s hair.
“That’s a good boy,” his praise tinged with a mocking tone, “Suck my cock.”
The fingers in his hair tighten to a painful degree and suddenly Sentry is fucking his face hard. Forcing him down further and further with each pull until John’s nose is buried in the trimmed hair at the base. He holds him there for a long time, long enough that John starts to panic a bit when he runs low on oxygen, his hands scrambling at Sentry’s thighs. It’s only when John feels like his lungs are going to explode that he’s yanked off his cock, sputtering and coughing.
“You should count yourself lucky that you’ve never actually been to prison, you would’ve been someone’s girlfriend before you’d have even made it to your cell.”
Sentry pushes his shoulders down until his head is on the floor and his ass is in the air. There’s no finesse or teasing as his pants are literally ripped off of him, easily tossed away by the man pinning him, “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to say ‘thank you’.”
Sentry lobs a wad of spit directly onto John’s asshole, and works two fingers into him. It hurts but god does it also feel good. He practically melts into the carpet, his hips already pushing back to meet Sentry’s thrusting fingers. Before he’s ready, a third finger is added and Sentry remarks, “God, you really are just a whore.”
John moans and nods, “I-I’m a whore.”
The man above him laughs meanly at that and runs his cock head up and down his crack, teasing at his fluttering hole. He doesn’t enter though, just pressing and then pulling away and pressing and pulling away.
“P-please!” He begs, pushing his hips back in hopes that Sentry will relent. He doesn’t though, just keeps teasing him.
“I don’t think you’ve earned it, yet,” Sentry tells him, “I don’t think you really want it enough.”
“I’ll do anything, just fuck me pleaseeeeeee!”
The end of his sentence turns into a squeal as Sentry shoves himself to hilt inside of him, starting a brutal pace of fucking him without any time for adjustment. And John loves it, this is exactly what he’s been wanting, exactly what he’s been needing. And Bob, ever the benevolent guy that he is, is finally scratching that itch that John’s needed scratched all this time.
The pace at which he’s being fucked is brutal, no ifs ands or buts about it. He wonders vaguely if he’s even going to be able to sit normally when this is all done. He reaches down, trying to grab his cock but a loud smack and the burning pain on his ass cheek stops him.
“I don’t let stupid dogs cum,” Sentry snarls at him, putting almost his entire weight onto him as he fucks him, “You said you wanted to be fucked by me, that should be enough.”
John nods dumbly, only now realizing he’s crying. Sentry just laughs and rests his palm on the side of his head, using that to support part of his weight as he continues to rail him.
“Fuck I’m so close, say, Walker, do you think with all these genetic enhancements they made to me that I could get you pregnant?”
John’s brain whites out at the image and he’s coming untouched, his cum making a mess of his carpet and thighs and Sentry somehow manages to fuck him even harder.
“I’m gonna put a baby in you, Walker, and then you’ll be my little wife.”
John can feel it when he cums, the fluid is hot and there’s so much of it, it’s like Sentry has been storing it up for him.
There’s an embarrassing audible pop when he pulls out and John tries to block his view of his ruined asshole with is hand but Sentry just grabs it and twists it into a painful position.
“Hey Walker, your hole is completely wrecked. It’s time for you to say ‘thank you’.”
When John doesn’t comply he twists his arm even more, the dangerous creaking noise coming from his wrist says he has seconds before it snaps.
“Okay fine! Thank you!”
Sentry releases him and stands up, “We should do this again some time.”
And all John can do is just bury his face into the carpet.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: John shouts at you about music. You argue back. You make up. Gender-neutral Reader! No use of Y/N!
cross-posted on ao3
The other members of the team would probably laugh about it if you told them.
Music had always been your therapy.
But on days where everyone was out of the tower, you took to your room and blasted your favourite songs on your speakers. Just to sit. Wallow a bit, maybe.
This is one of such days.
The tower was practically empty. Bucky was off doing political shit, John was on court mandated therapy, and the others had left to go out on a walk or something. Get Bob out of the building for once.
Nobody was here. Not a soul to damage to cochlears of.
You had your chance to blast your version of therapy.
Music. Lots and lots of music. Did you mention music?
So here you were, fiddling with the beat-up speaker in your room (it had been a purchase a few years back and now it was your child, on god) and deliberating on what music to put on first. Or do you put your playlist on shuffle?
These were very important deliberations!
Putting it on shuffle was always good. Every song in your playlist was awesome.
Eventually, the speaker turns on, does that stupid, cheap Bluetooth sound. You grab your phone, quickly pairing it up and opening up Spotify before scrolling through your playlists.
Eventually you pick one, hitting shuffle and smiling.
The first notes of Die With A Smile come playing through the crappy speakers, and you turn it up to full blast.
It's great. Better than great, because now you get to lean back and reap the benefits of some banging music, sit for a while, sing along as loud as you like, because who's here to tell you to stop?
Nobody! Absolutely no-one!
It goes on like this for an hour or so, probably. You're enthusiastically jamming out to Hot To Go with a huge grin on your face, dancing around, hair flying absolutely everywhere-
The door slams open, and you jump.
"Can you turn this shit off?" John scowls, cupping his hands over his mouth because he has to yell over the music. "It's all I can damn well hear on the whole floor!"
The sudden interruption sends you scrambling for your phone in a panic, and you fumble hastily with the buttons.
The music cuts out. It's dead silent for a moment.
"Jesus Christ," John huffs, rolling his eyes, "how loud do you have to have it? Are you trying to deafen yourself?"
You scowl back at him, clutching your phone close to your chest, which is rising and falling rapidly still. "Why are you even here?" You snap, "You're supposed to still be in court-mandated therapy, last I checked!"
John's lip ticks in annoyance. "Yeah, well. Turns out I got the date wrong. My therapy is tomorrow, not today. Wasted a whole trip's-worth of fuel for no reason."
You grumble under your breath, grabbing your speaker and switching it off frustratedly. You'd just started to feel better, too.
"You could learn a thing or two about politely asking people to turn music off," You seethe aggravatedly, "It's not like anyone was gonna hear it. You were all supposed to be out of the tower."
John watches as you chunner and put away the speaker, one eyebrow raising in mild surprise. "Why were you even blasting music so loud like that, anyway?" He questions.
You pause for a moment, letting reasons roll over themselves in your head.
Because it makes me feel less shitty.
Because I'm scared of therapy.
Because I'd rather die before venting or articulating my very complex feelings to anyone, John, duh!
"Because I do whatever I want, John, why does it matter to you?" Is what comes out of your mouth instead.
John raises his hands up in a placating manner. "Woah, Jesus. No need to get all bitchy on me. It was only a question."
The silence after that is uncomfortable, thick with tension and more awkward than a school function. Neither one of you speaks for a moment. John is just standing there in the doorway. You're still midway through trying to shove your speaker up onto a shelf.
"...here," John says, breaking the silence and stepping further into your room. He grabs the speaker for you and gently places it on top of the shelf you'd been struggling to reach. "I don't know why you're in such a mood-"
"Oh, wow, gee," you mutter, "so helpful."
"-but if something's bothering you," he plows on, ignoring you but sending a look your way regardless, "you should probably talk to someone about it."
"Talking to people is for people who aren't awkward fucks," you mumble, crossing your arms and turning away from him.
"Talking to people can help anyone," John says, his tone emphatic, "we don't need another explosive situation with the team. Look what happened to one of us when he'd been convinced he was alone and had nobody to talk to."
...he was right.
You knew it, he knew it.
The team really didn't need another situation where someone believed they were isolated enough to start acting out. You'd barely recovered from the situation with Bob as it stood.
"...yeah, whatever," you sigh, but your shoulders have loosened and the roiling pit in your stomach has stopped feeling so bottomless. "I'll... See about it."
John's lips turn upward in a barely-there smile. "Good. And if you're gonna listen to music," his soft smile turns into a more teasing one, "do it at a level that won't burst any eardrums."
He begins to leave, but not before playfully clouting your ear before you can do anything.
"John, what the fuck-" you scowl, going red-faced and following after him.
"What? I didn't do anything!" He says smugly as his frame disappears into the communal area.
This guy.
"John, I swear to fuck, I'm going to kill you," you say, skidding after him. "I'm gonna kill you dead!"
