“You like that? Of course you do. You were made to be beneath us.”

You find yourself face-to-chest with Venom—towering, otherworldly, and amused. His body is an ever-shifting mass of rippling muscle and liquid-black sheen, the symbiote surface glistening as though it’s breathing on its own. Every movement rolls instead of flexes, controlled and deliberate, built to overpower, and to remind you of how easily he could.

But it’s not just his size or his voice that gets into your skin.

It’s the scent.

His feet, colossal and commanding, pulse with heat and carry a thick, humid musk that clings to the air. It’s a scent that crawls down your throat and settles in your mind—a blend of smoky rubber, raw earth, and something... darker. Not a simple scent. The longer one stands near him, the more impossible to ignore it becomes.

He knows you feel it. The way your breath hitches when he shifts an inch. The way your eyes linger on dark muscle. He doesn't need to speak for you to feel dwarfed. But when he does—when that gravelly, layered voice rumbles above you—it’s all over.

Art by Shan_Yao_Jun

Enjoy! (Or you might wake up tomorrow with a missing lung. Pancreas too. 🫁)

(Stuff: We, Are, Venom)