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samodivaa · 1 year ago

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Training Techniques

Winter Soldier x Reader He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?

Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink Words - 2600 ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness. The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.

It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting. And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.

You know.

He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.

Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. It doesn’t seem worth the risk —but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.

“Please-” —an irrational and indulgent mistake. you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience. His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet. “Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding. You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength “I still need to punish you for that, Winter” He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty. And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.

He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t. Not now. There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.

“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper. Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch. And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown. He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself. He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires. You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you. Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker. All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter. You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him. You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction. His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch.

"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.

He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.

“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice. You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory? Everything is a memory to him. “I want you here, fucking me” There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.

It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.

“Jesus-I am so close” You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.

You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills “Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily. Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.

“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss. He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you. You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient. Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.

It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace. His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his. “Who did you marry, Snow White?” He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips. You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping. You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix. “Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you” Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.

His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate. His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.

“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to. He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants. Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat.

“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”

I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.

“I need to kill them one by one, Winter” His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours "Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper. He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from. "Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down" You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking. Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up. You can't move. You can't breathe. And his pace. And the adrenaline. “I will cum inside—dear Snow White” This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you. Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal. You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.

You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.

#I WAS POSSESSED #but this is real #metal arm kink fr #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic #winter soldier fanfiction #smut #slight angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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fangdokja · 20 days ago

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He crushed a man’s skull beneath his boot and turned to you with a smile.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 963

The battlefield reeked of death—the sharp tang of blood mixed with gunpowder hung thick in the air. Smoke curled around the shattered remains of buildings, a grim reminder of what once stood in defiance of destruction. You stood amidst the wreckage, small and fragile against the chaos, your lips pressed tightly together in the silence you’d perfected over the years. Not a single sound escaped you, though your trembling hands betrayed what your carefully composed expression could not.

He was a towering figure in this nightmarish theater, a soldier honed not just by war but by something darker. The brutal efficiency in his movements was terrifying to witness; each step deliberate, each strike calculated. His broad shoulders rippled with tension under the tattered remnants of his uniform, the black tactical vest clinging to his chest soaked with the blood of both comrades and enemies. His eyes as cold as steel burned with an unrelenting fire as he surveyed the carnage around him.

“Stay close to me,” he growled, his voice deep and gravelly, as though dragged from the depths of the abyss itself. You didn’t dare disobey. Not after what you’d seen.

The man—no, the madman—had just butchered three men who dared to corner you. Their screams echoed in your ears, a haunting melody of snapping bones and gurgling cries. He hadn’t hesitated. His massive hands, calloused and scarred, had torn one’s throat open as if it were paper, while his boot crushed another’s skull with a sickening crunch. The last had tried to beg, but his pleas were cut short as the man plunged a blade into his chest, twisting it slowly as if savoring the act.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his tone devoid of comfort. His gaze flicked down to you, taking in the quivering of your small frame. “Good. You should be scared. That’s what keeps you alive.”

He reached for you, his hand large enough to engulf your shoulder completely. His touch wasn’t gentle—it never was. It was possessive, a silent declaration that you were his, and that no one else could lay a finger on you. The blood smeared across his gloves left a crimson stain on your clothes, marking you as part of the carnage he’d wrought.

“They were going to take you from me,” he murmured, his voice low and menacing. “Do you understand what that means?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Words felt useless in the face of his overwhelming presence, and your selective muteness provided a convenient shield against his unrelenting intensity. But he didn’t need your words. He’d learned to read you—your body language, your eyes, the subtle shifts in your posture. And right now, he saw fear.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “It means I’ll kill every last one of them if it means keeping you safe.”

As if to punctuate his statement, a figure emerged from the smoke, a rifle raised. The man’s reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed you by the arm and shoved you behind him with a force that left you stumbling. In the same motion, he drew his sidearm and fired a single shot. The enemy soldier dropped, blood spraying from the precise wound in his forehead. The man didn’t even blink.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, stepping over the corpse as if it were nothing more than debris. He turned back to you, his expression softening in a way that only made him more terrifying. “Come on. I won’t let you die out here.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted to the ground. The logical part of your mind screamed at you to run, to escape this monster masquerading as your savior. But your body betrayed you, obeying his command as if compelled by some unseen force. You followed him, your steps faltering but obedient.

The slaughter continued as he carved a path through the battlefield. His methods were brutal, each kill more horrific than the last. He used everything at his disposal—guns, knives, even his bare hands. One soldier was left choking on his own blood, his windpipe crushed by the man’s iron grip. Another was disemboweled with surgical precision, his intestines spilling onto the ground in a grotesque display. The air was filled with the wet sounds of flesh tearing, the crack of bones breaking, and the muffled gasps of dying men.

Through it all, he remained composed, his expression unchanging except for the occasional glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He didn’t just kill; he dominated, ensuring that each enemy knew their place beneath him in their final moments. It was a display of power so absolute that even you, his supposed charge, felt its oppressive weight bearing down on you.

By the time the chaos subsided, the ground was slick with blood, and the bodies lay in grotesque heaps. He stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood dripped from his hands and splattered across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes found yours, piercing through the haze of smoke and fear.

“You’re mine,” he said, the words more a statement of fact than a declaration. “No one will take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, and for a brief moment, you considered running. But the thought died as quickly as it came. Where would you go? He would find you. He always did.

Instead, you nodded, the smallest of movements. It was enough to satisfy him. His lips curled into a predatory smile, and he reached out to cup your face with a blood-streaked hand. The contrast between his rough touch and the gentle way he held you was jarring, a reminder of the duality that made him so terrifying.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re learning.”

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buckrecs · 1 year ago

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Jealous / Possessive

masterlist | req masterlist

Tease by @beckzorz

A fake date with a Danish alien tech dealer. Bucky gets bored, and maybe a little jealous, while he’s waiting in the command truck outside. It’s all downhill from there.

Jealousy Jealousy by @antiquarianfics

seeing red by @buckysfaveplum

bucky can’t just sit and watch as a man makes you uncomfortable in a bar

Jealous by @pellucid-constellations

You keep talking about the owner of that new bakery and it’s rubbing Bucky the wrong way.

All Over You by @jobean12-blog

Walker tries to put the moves on you, Bucky’s jealous and protective but a dumbass, Sam has to watch the whole thing…(he’s so done with their shit)

Green by @itsapeterthing

three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it

Headcanon by @icarus-fell-in-spring

Jealous!Bucky Barnes would include

I don’t get jealous by @this-ginger-has-no-soul

bucky where your ex-fiancee comes back and you have to work w/ him and bucky becomes real protective

Erase Every Trace by @angrythingstarlight

Bucky had to sit back and watch another man touch you, but now that the ruse is over, he’s going to erase every trace of him off your skin.

Can you not… by @buckyalpine

Your ex is trying to win you back, wonder what Bucky thinks about that?

Jealousy by @halcyonrogers

Bucky watches from afar as you converse with Peter Parker, the new teenage recruit. Things begin to heat up on Peter’s end as he keeps paying you compliments, and Bucky takes things into his own hands.

Around My Neck by @mcu1shots

Bucky notices your new necklace, he isn't sure he's a fan.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes jealousy #bucky barnes jealous #bucky barnes possessive #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #husband!bucky #mob!bucky #jealous!bucky

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lila-lou · 10 months ago

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✨ His only exception - Pt. 12/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Smut and more Smut, Language

Word Count: 6263

A/N: This is part 12 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The next morning, as the soft light filtered through the curtains, you and Ben were startled awake by a series of loud knocks on the door. Annie’s voice, muffled but unmistakably annoyed, filtered through the wood.

“Ben! Open up, damn it!”, she called out, her tone aggressive and urgent.

Ben groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed, a scowl crossing his features.

“What the fuck does this woman want now?”, he muttered, irritation evident in his voice.

You exchanged a tired glance with him, both of you equally puzzled by Annie’s unexpected intrusion. With a resigned sigh, Ben swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulled on his sweatpants and made his way to the door, grumbling under his breath. As he opened the door, Annie’s furious expression greeted him, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him.

“Where the hell is (y/n)? She isn’t in her room!“, she demanded.

You quickly scrambled out of bed, throwing on some clothes as you rushed to join Ben and Annie at the door. Ben opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, offering a hurried explanation.

“Oh, hey Annie”, you said, trying to sound casual despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I just needed to grab my charger from Ben’s room. He borrowed it”.

Ben raised an eyebrow at you, a silent question in his gaze, but you avoided his eyes, focusing on Annie instead.

Annie's suspicion lingered in the air as she glanced between you and Ben, her expression unreadable. “Your charger, huh?”, she said skeptically, her tone tinged with disbelief. “At this hour?”.

You nodded quickly, trying to maintain your composure despite the rising tension in the room. “Yeah, I just realized I forgot it”, you lied, hoping that Annie would buy your excuse.

"Are you sure everything's okay?", she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "I just… I worry about you, (y/n). Especially when you're with him". You offered her a reassuring smile, doing your best to appear unfazed by her probing questions. "Everything's fine, Annie", you insisted, your tone as convincing as you could muster. Ben remained silent, his gaze fixed on you with a hint of disappointment lurking in his eyes.

Annie nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Okay, well, breakfast is ready whenever you two decide to join us", she said before turning to leave, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. Once the door clicked shut behind her, Ben turned to you, a raised eyebrow signaling his expectation for an explanation. His expression was a mixture of curiosity and a bit hurt, as if he already knew the truth but wanted to hear it from you. You met his gaze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

"I… I just didn't want her to… you know, get the wrong idea", you stammered, struggling to find the right words to explain. Ben's stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Wrong idea about what?", he teased. "That we fucked? Again?".

Ben attempted to mask it with a casual shrug, but you could sense the tinge of hurt beneath his facade. "I get it", he said casually. "Just didn't expect you to be so eager to avoid being fucking caught with me".

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing that you had wounded his pride. "I'm sorry", you murmured, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I just didn't want things to get complicated with the team".

Ben forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's fine", he replied, his tone clipped. "Let's just go grab some breakfast, yeah?".

The two of you joined the rest of the team in the kitchen, trying to act like nothing had happened. As everyone chatted about their time off, you and Ben remained silent, exchanging only brief glances that spoke volumes.

After Kimiko and Frenchie finished sharing their stories about their time in Paris, Hughie and Annie took their turn, recounting their adventures in Austria.

As the conversation flowed, Butcher's gaze eventually drifted toward you and Ben, his gruff voice breaking the jovial atmosphere. "So, how was your vacation?", he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the two of you. "I'm guessing it was good, seeing as you two are talking to each other again."

You exchanged a hesitant glance with Ben before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it was… fine", you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the lingering tension between you. "Nothing too eventful".

Ben offered a nonchalant shrug, his expression carefully composed.

Butcher nodded, though there was a hint of skepticism in his gaze. "Well, fucing glad to hear it", he grunted before turning his attention back to his breakfast.

As the conversation carried on, you couldn't shake the feeling of Annie's suspicious gaze lingering on you. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she spoke up.

"You know, (y/n), you look different", Annie remarked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp with scrutiny. "You sure nothing interesting happened?".

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you exchanged a glance with Ben, who grinned mischievously but said nothing, focusing instead on his pancakes. Frenchie's curious gaze joined Annie's, followed by Butcher's, and soon all eyes were on you, awaiting your response.

You swallowed nervously, trying to keep your composure. "Uh, no, not really", you replied, your voice unconvincing even to your own ears. "Just… got some sun, I guess".

Butcher raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical, but he didn't press the issue further.

As Ben's hand squeezed your thigh under the table, a jolt of surprise shot through you, momentarily distracting you from the conversation. His touch was firm, almost possessive, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking as he engaged in a discussion with Butcher about Homelander's whereabouts.

Despite the tension simmering between you, Ben's demeanor remained unchanged as he delved into the conversation with Butcher, his voice steady and unwavering.

You forced yourself to focus on the discussion at hand, trying to push aside the lingering discomfort that gnawed at the back of your mind.

With the rest of the team heading off to Supe Affairs for a meeting, you and Ben found yourselves with some rare downtime at the apartment. As the others filed out, you exchanged a glance with Ben, a sense of relief washing over you at the prospect of a quiet morning.

As you slipped away to the bathroom, the sound of running water filled the apartment, signaling your intent to unwind in the shower. Ben, lounging in his room, couldn't help but notice the familiar sound. He rose from his bed, padding quietly to the bathroom door.

Without hesitation, he turned the handle and pushed the door open, his eyes meeting yours as you stood in the midst of undressing. A faint blush crept onto your cheeks at the unexpected intrusion, but you couldn't help but be amused by Ben's boldness. "Can I help you?", you teased, a playful glint in your eye as you met his gaze.

Ben grinned mischievously, leaning casually against the door frame. "Just making sure you don't fucking drown in there", he replied, his tone light and teasing. "Wouldn't want to have to fish you out".

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his antics. "I think I can handle a shower on my own, thank you", you retorted, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

"Oh, I have no doubt about your little showering capabilities", he remarked with a smirk. "But company never hurt anyone, right?".

Again you rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a small smile at his persistence. "I suppose not", you replied. Despite his teasing, there was an underlying warmth in his gaze that made you feel unexpectedly at ease.

As Ben stepped closer to you, his hands wandering down to your sweatpants, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of anticipation mingled with excitement. His proximity sent a thrill coursing through you, and you found yourself drawn to him.

“Would you be ashamed if anyone found out about us fucking?”, Ben asked, his voice low and husky as he pulled you closer. You paused for a moment, considering his question before responding. “Well, you’re the one who told me not to tell anyone in the first place”, you pointed out, a hint of amusement in your voice. “So I guess that’s on you”.

Ben chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in close. “Fair enough”, he murmured, his tone tinged with amusement. “But that just counts for taking your virginity. I��m not about to be seen as a fucking pussy, but your sweet little pussy being mine in general? Well, that’s a fucking different story”.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure the team wouldn't stop teasing us if they found out", you quipped, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your stomach.

Ben chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "Let them tease", he replied nonchalantly. "As long as they don't get in the way of us having some fun".

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness.

As you discarded your sweatpants, leaving you just in your bra and panties, Ben’s gaze lingered on you appreciatively, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “They don’t need to know about us having some fun”, you remarked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of uncertainty in your chest. “I mean, it’s not like we’re together or anything”.

As you hoped for Ben to reveal something deeper than just the physical aspect of your relationship, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment when he didn't. However, you pushed the feeling aside, trying to focus on the present moment.

"Right", Ben mumbled in agreement before pulling you close again, turning you roughly so your back was against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as if he never wanted to let go.

You leaned back into his embrace, the warmth of his body comforting against your skin. Despite the uncertainty swirling within you, there was a sense of security in his arms.

As Ben's hand traced over your naked stomach, slipping down inside your panties, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine at his touch. His lips began to pepper kisses along your shoulders, sending a tingling sensation coursing through your body.

You tilted your head to the side, offering him better access as his kisses trailed down your neck. With each kiss, each gentle stroke of his hand, you felt yourself surrendering to the heat of the moment.

Ben's hand slipped inside your panties, his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers traced tantalizing patterns against your skin, exploring every curve and crevice with a gentle but firm touch. With his other hand holding your hips in place, he kept you close, ensuring you couldn't escape the sensation.

His fingers rubbing over your sensitive skin, teasing and coaxing you to the brink of ecstasy. Every stroke, every caress, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, building the intensity of the moment with each passing second.

You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, desperate for more of his touch. The rhythm of his movements matched the pounding of your heart.

A smirk played on his lips as he relished in the control he held over you. "You like that, huh?", he murmured. "You're such a fucking needy little thing".

You bit your lip to stifle a moan, unable to form a coherent response as the sensations consumed you.

Ben pressed his erection against your ass, his intentions clear, you could feel the heat radiating between you. His breath tickled your ear as he leaned in, his lips trailing along your neck before biting down slightly.

With a low grunt, he whispered huskily in your ear, "You're mine now, sweetheart". The possessiveness in his tone sent shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as Ben's hands moved swiftly, ripping off your panties with urgency. The suddenness of his action sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

"You've got such a perfect little ass", Ben murmured, his voice husky with desire as his hands roamed over your back and down to your ass, squeezing both cheek firmly.

You gasped at his touch as you leaned into his grasp.

“You still sore?”, Ben asked as he pressed his body against yours. You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of soreness lingering from the previous night’s activities. “A little”, you admitted, your voice tinged with nervousness. Ben smirked. “Well, I can’t promise to be gentle this time”, he replied.

Determined to prove yourself, you squared your shoulders and met Ben's gaze. "I can handle it", you declared, your voice firm despite the lingering apprehension. Ben's smirk widened as he sensed your resolve.

"That's what I fucking want to hear", he mumbled.

Ben pulled down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his throbbing length. As he pushed inside you, his movements weren't overly forceful, but for someone inexperienced like you, it was enough to make you whimper in pain.

You gripped the edge of the sink tightly, trying to steady yourself as he filled you, his pace slow and deliberate. Each inch of him stretched you in ways you hadn't anticipated, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you.

"Easy, sweetheart", Ben murmured, his voice laced with a hint of concern as he noticed your discomfort. "Just relax and breathe".

As Ben moved inside you, his muttering filled the air. "You're still so fucking tight", he murmured, his voice a mixture of admiration and frustration. The strain on his face was evident, his cock pained by the tightness, a testament to your inexperience.

His grip on your hips tightened, leaving bruises in their wake, adding to the already tender marks from the night before. Yet, despite the discomfort, there was a sense of exhilaration in the intensity of the moment, in the raw connection you shared with Ben.

Ben paused, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. You tried to stand up a bit straighter, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure, but Ben pushed your back down again, his hands firm on your hips.

"Stay down", he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you".

You nodded, trying to obey his command as you focused on controlling your breathing.

You struggled to catch your breath through the pain, your body still adjusting to his size. Despite the discomfort, you tried to focus on the sensation of him inside you, clinging to the anticipation of pleasure amidst the ache.

As Ben started to move his hips slowly, a mixture of pleasure and pain washed over you, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. You couldn't help but moan and whimper uncontrollably.

His gaze fixed on the sight of his cock disappearing into your tight pussy, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he savored the sight. With each movement, he drove deeper into you.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?”, Ben grunted. “Or do I need to fucking show you how to handle me?”.

As Ben pushed even deeper, you let out a sharp gasp, your breath hitching in your throat. Sensing your hesitation, he leaned in closer, his voice low and commanding.

"I asked you a question", he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. "Don't make me ask again".

You shivered at the intensity of his tone, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through you.

"I'll take it", you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

Ben's lips curled into a smile, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's right", he murmured. "

You swallowed hard, the realization sinking in that you were completely at his mercy.

As Ben picked up the pace, his thrusts growing more intense and relentless, you couldn't help but whimper with each movement. The mixture of pleasure and pain sent waves of sensation coursing through you, overwhelming your senses.

"Please", you whimpered, your voice barely above a desperate murmur. "Slow down".

Ben pulled you up by the back of your neck, his roughness causing you to whimper again.

"I thought you could take it like a good girl", he growled, his voice tinged with annoyance as he held you firmly in place. "Don't fucking disappoint me now".

You nodded frantically, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back a whimper.

With that, he pushed you back against the sink, his movements more determined and forceful than before.

Your legs began to tremble as the intensity of Ben's thrusts increased, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. With each deep penetration, your lower belly started to ache, the relentless pounding leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. "You're taking me so well", Ben praised.

Despite the discomfort, you clung to the edge of the sink for support, surrendering yourself to the sensations that consumed you. Ben's words of praise echoed in your ears, driving you to push through the pain as you struggled to keep up with his relentless pace.

As the pleasure mounted and your body trembled with anticipation, you couldn't help but wonder how much more you could endure.

As Ben’s thrusts grew more fervent, your determination surged, fueled by a desire to prove yourself to him. Each movement was a testament to your resolve, your body eagerly responding to his every touch and command.

Yet, despite your efforts, there was an underlying tension, a sense of urgency that lingered in the air. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your heart racing as you chased after the elusive peak of pleasure.

In the mirror, Ben’s gaze bore into yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He could sense your struggle, the need for release that still eluded you.

With a subtle shift in his movements, he adjusted his pace, slowing down just enough to give you room to catch up.

As Ben slowed his pace, you could feel the tension in the room ease slightly, his actions a silent admission of his concern for your pleasure. It was a gesture you hadn’t expected from him, and it left you feeling strangely touched.

“Having trouble getting there, sweetheart?”, he teased. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do on that problem of yours”.

Without saying a word, you just looked at him pleadingly through the mirror.

Ben sighed softly. "Alright, let me get you there first", he murmured.

With practiced ease, he shifted your body slightly, his movements purposeful as he positioned you to hit your sweet spot. You felt a surge of anticipation coursing through you as he guided you.

As he pushed into you nice and slow, you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of him filling you completely. A low moan escaped your lips, the pleasure building with each inch of his cock buried deep inside you.

"There we go", he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he savored the moment.

Ben couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as he lazily and easily brought you to the brink of ecstasy within seconds.

Your body quivered with pleasure as you surrendered to the intense sensation, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the wave of climax washed over you.

"See? Wasn’t that hard", he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Told you I could get you there".

With a satisfied smirk, Ben leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're fucking welcome", he murmured, as you continued to cling to the sink, breathless and still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Now that you've had your fun", he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement, "can I finally have mine?".

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling the lingering aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. But the desire in his voice was unmistakable, and you found yourself nodding, giving him the permission he sought.

With a satisfied smirk, Ben began to move again, his movements slow and deliberate as he resumed his rhythm, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

As Ben's thrusts became faster and harder, the intensity of his movements threatened to overwhelm you.

Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, but beneath the surface, there was a hint of discomfort as well. You could feel the force of his thrusts bruising your insides, pushing you to the brink with each powerful motion.

Yet, despite the physical strain, there was a strange sense of exhilaration in the air. Unbeknownst to you, however, this level of intensity was far from the roughness Ben usually exerted with other girls.

His restraint, though not immediately apparent, spoke volumes about the depth of his connection with you.

As Ben reached the peak of his pleasure, his thrusts grew even more fervent, driving deeper and harder into you with each motion. With a guttural groan, he finally released inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

You could feel every pulse of his release, the warmth spreading through you as he emptied himself inside you.

As his orgasm subsided, Ben collapsed against you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of ecstasy. "Fuck", he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "That was… intense".

You could only nod in agreement, your own breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to process the intensity of the moment.

As the last tremors of his orgasm subsided, Ben softened inside you, his body relaxing against yours. You could feel the gentle throb of his cock as it pulsed weakly within you, the remnants of his passion mingling with your own.

His weight pressed you against the sink, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to the warmth of your entwined bodies. Despite the lingering ache between your legs, there was a sense of fulfillment that washed over you, a deep satisfaction in knowing that you had pleased him.

Ben's breath was hot against your neck as he nuzzled closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. For a moment, you simply savored the intimacy of the moment, the feeling of being held in his arms.

Eventually, Ben pulled away, his soft smile betraying the tenderness he felt in that moment. With a surprising gentleness, he gave your ass a playful slap, his touch a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"Good job, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice husky. "You're making progress".

You couldn't help but grin at his praise, a sense of pride swelling within you at the acknowledgment of your efforts.

"Come on, take your little shower", Ben grinned.

As he made his way out of the bathroom, you took a moment to catch your breath, your legs feeling like pudding beneath you. The intensity of your encounter with Ben had left you feeling a little dizzy, your heart racing in your chest.

As the warm water cascaded over your skin, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Ben. The way he had looked at you, the tenderness in his touch—it had stirred something inside you.

As you emerged from the bathroom, you found Ben sitting in the living room, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he sniffed a few lines. His eyes trailed over you appreciatively as you made your way to the kitchen, clad in shorts and a top that clung to your curves in all the right places.

"Well, well, look who's all fresh and clean", he remarked, his voice tinged with amusement. "Feeling better after our little workout?".

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his teasing tone.

As you filled a glass with water, you couldn't shake the feeling of Ben's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. With a playful smile, you took your time, relishing in the opportunity to tease him in return.

Once you had your fill, you sauntered over to where Ben was leaning against the couch, his arms spread out on the backrest as he watched you approach. His eyes traced every curve of your body, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you.

"You know, for someone who claims not to be that interested, you seem pretty focused on me", you teased, your voice laced with amusement as you stood before him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge.

Ben chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Can you blame me?", he murmured, his tone low and suggestive. "You're quite the sight, sweetheart".

You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, a thrill of excitement coursed through you at the knowledge that you had his undivided attention.

As Ben leaned back against the couch, his eyes never leaving you, a smirk played on his lips. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the sight of you standing before him. “You know, you look even better up close”, he teased.

You chuckled softly, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks at his flirtatious remark. As you moved to sit down on the couch, ready to engage in some light conversation, Ben interrupted you with a subtle gesture.

"Uh-uh", he mumbled, nodding towards his lap, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

You settled onto his lap, Ben's arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer. Your back pressed against his warm chest.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "You know, I could get used to having you here". You chuckled nervously, the tension in the air palpable. "Careful, you might start to spoil me", you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Ben's grip tightened slightly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Oh, don't worry", he replied. "I'm not in the business of spoiling girls like you".

You shifted slightly in his embrace, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Girls like me?", you questioned.

Ben smirked, his gaze lingering on you as he replied, "You know, the ones who think they can handle me".

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his cockiness. "And can't they?", you countered.

Ben's smirk widened, his grip tightening on your waist. "Guess we'll just have to find out", he replied, his voice low.

Ben's hands trailed lazily over your stomach, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you leaned into his embrace. His gaze remained fixed on the news playing on the TV, but his words held a hint of sincerity.

"You know, so far you've handled me better than I expected", he admitted.

You couldn't help but smile at his admission, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. As his hands continued to wander, you found yourself sinking deeper into his touch.

You resisted the urge to tell him just how sore you actually were, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, you simply leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and intimacy between you.

Ben's hands continued to trace lazy patterns over your lower belly, his lips brushing against your neck and shoulders in a gentle rhythm. Despite the distraction of the news playing on the TV, his attention remained focused on you.

As you felt his cock slowly stirring awake underneath your ass, a thrill of anticipation coursed through you. Despite the soreness lingering between your legs, you couldn't deny the growing desire building within you.

You shifted slightly, feeling his erection pressing against you more prominently, eliciting a soft grunt from Ben. His hands gripped you tighter, his growing arousal evident in his touch.

"You like that?", he murmured.

You couldn't help but smile at his question. "Maybe", you teased.

Ben chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin.

His hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly, guiding you to move against him in a slow rhythm. His dick growing with each movement, his lips trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone.

"You're a natural at this", Ben murmured as he guided your movements against him. His hands tightened on your hips, urging you to continue the tantalizing rhythm.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation of his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone sending shivers down your spine. "Feels good", you whispered, your voice laced with desire.

"You have no idea", he groaned.

As you continued to grind against his clothed erection, Ben couldn’t help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through him. The sight of you, lost in pleasure, was beyond hot.

"You're so fucking sexy", he groaned, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts as you rocked against him. In the heat of the moment, you felt your climax building, growing stronger with each movement.

With a sudden burst of intensity, you came, your body convulsing with pleasure. But before you could catch your breath, Ben was already taking action, his movements swift and determined.

In a matter of seconds, he had discarded his sweatpants and boxers, pulling your panties aside as he positioned himself. With one powerful thrust, he pushed you down onto his hard cock, knocking the air out of your lungs as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Ben's hands gripping your hips firmly, as he let out a satisfied sigh. "Just sit on me, sweetheart", he murmured. "Keep my cock warm while I catch up on the news".

You complied, lowering yourself onto him more with a shiver of anticipation. With his cock buried deep inside you, he leaned back against the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. "Good girl", he praised. "Now just stay put and let me enjoy the show".

You bit back a retort, choosing instead to focus on the warmth spreading through you from where you were connected with him.

Ben reclined against the couch, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

"Can't sit still, can you?", he chided, his tone laced with a hint of condescension as you kept moving. "Always fidgeting like a little girl".

You rolled your eyes at his comment, trying to find a comfortable position while ignoring his jab.

"I'm just trying to get comfortable", you retorted, your tone tinged with annoyance.

Ben's cock twitched inside you, a silent testament to the arousal simmering beneath his teasing facade. All the while, you were simply focused on getting comfortable, oblivious to the effect your movements were having on him.

As you continued to shift, Ben's patience wore thin. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed your hips forcefully, pushing you down until his cock was completely buried inside you. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the fullness of your warmth enveloping him, while you whimpered at the sudden intrusion, feeling a pang of discomfort as he held you in place.

"Stay fucking still", he commanded, his grip on your hips unyielding as he forced you to remain in place. The pressure on your sore pussy only added to your discomfort, but you dared not protest.

As Ben held you in place, his attention shifted back to the news playing on the TV. He began commenting on the latest developments, his voice a steady stream of commentary. Meanwhile, your discomfort seemed to amplify with each passing moment, your pussy clenching involuntarily around him.

Despite the lack of movement, the sensation of your tightness pulsating around him sent waves of pleasure coursing through Ben's body. He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his composure as he felt himself nearing the edge of climax.

"Fuck", he muttered under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening reflexively. "You're gonna make me come just sitting there like that".

As Ben grew increasingly frustrated, his arousal only intensified, a battle raging within him as he struggled to maintain control amidst the overwhelming sensation. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body tense with pent-up desire.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy”, he growled, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. “I swear, if you keep squeezing like that, I’m gonna fuck you again, no matter how fucking sore you are”.

You could sense the turmoil in his voice, a mix of frustration and arousal that mirrored your own conflicted emotions. Despite the discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill in knowing the effect you had on him.

As the tension mounted, you couldn't help but continue clenching around him, the involuntary action a testament to your heightened arousal. Despite your efforts to control it, your body had a mind of its own.

"I can't… I can't control it", you whimpered, the strain evident in your voice as you struggled against the overwhelming sensation.

Ben's own restraint slipping with each clench of your muscles.

As the sound of footsteps approached the hallway, Ben's senses sharpened. He leaned in close to your ear, his voice a low murmur as he mumbled about the others being in the hallway. "They're back", he whispered, his grip on you tightening as he held you in place.

Panicked, you tried to get off him, the fear of getting caught growing. But Ben's firm grip held you in place.

"Stay", he commanded, his voice urgent as he pressed you down onto him, refusing to let you go.

As you tried to wriggle free from Ben’s grasp, he watched you with an amused smirk, clearly enjoying your futile attempts. “Give it up, sweetheart”, he teased, his voice laced with amusement. “You’re not going anywhere”.

You shot him a glare, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Let me go, Ben”, you insisted, your voice tinged with desperation. “We can’t get caught like this”. But Ben only chuckled, tightening his hold on you even more. “Relax sweetheart”, he replied, his tone nonchalant.

As the sound of the door clicking echoed through the apartment, Ben finally released his grip on you. With a swift movement, he pulled up his sweatpants, his demeanor cool and composed as if nothing had happened.

You quickly straightened your clothes, your heart still racing from the close call.

As Butcher and the rest entered the living room, Annie’s gaze caught your flushed cheeks, her eyebrows raising in silent inquiry. “You two alright?”, she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

You forced a smile, trying to play off the tension in the air. “Yeah, Ben just won’t give me the remote”, you lied.

As you sat down again, Ben eyed you with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused by your quick thinking. You shot him a warning glance, silently urging him to play along.

Meanwhile, Butcher announced the details of the next mission. Ben's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he listened, his expression unreadable. It seemed he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of heading to Europe for two weeks, following a lead to Homelander.

Butcher continued, assigning tasks to each member of the team. You and Frenchie were tasked with staying behind, keeping an eye on things in case there were any developments while the rest of the team dealt with Homelander in Europe.

As you thought about being apart from Ben for two weeks, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. Despite the ups and downs of your interactions, the two of you had started to click in a way that felt surprisingly genuine.The prospect of being separated now felt daunting, especially with the uncertainty of the mission looming over you.

Ben’s thoughts, however, were consumed by a different kind of anticipation. While he outwardly grumbled about the mission and the inconvenience of being away, inwardly his mind raced with thoughts of you. He couldn’t shake the image of your tight pussy, the way you had responded to him earlier still fresh in his mind.

In his own twisted way, Ben couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone while he was gone.

As Annie asked you to help her prepare dinner with Kimiko, you nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction from your swirling thoughts. With a quick glance at Ben, who was already engrossed in a discussion with Butcher, MM, and Hughie about the mission details, you followed Annie and Kimiko into the kitchen. As you chopped vegetables, Annie turned to you.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 13

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mostlymarvelgirl

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut #the boys hughie #hughie campbell #billy butcher #the boys tv #possessive #manhandling #teasing

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5ummit · 5 months ago

Text

by allie_lynee

#very here for the casual possessive touching #winterbones #bucky barnes #brock rumlow #marvel #winter soldier #not mine

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prismaticpichu · 21 days ago

Text

Why. Was. This. Thought…

…In. My. HEAD???

#ffvii #sephiroth #randomness #possessed Masamune is consuming my brain #ff7 #stupidity #ever crisis #first soldier #final fantasy vii

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gayghostgrimoire · 13 days ago

Text

Reconnaissance

"You're gonna love the new office, man," Mike said, slapping his friend Alex on the back as they strolled through the early morning park.

Alex nodded, his eyes glazed with a blend of excitement and dread. "Just don't let it be anything like the last place. You remember how Janet from accounting always smelled like... burnt toast?"

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, but think of the perks! Free coffee and maybe a gym membership. Plus, we're moving up in the world, right?"

Alex forced a smile, his mind racing with the long list of potential horrors the new office might hold. "Right," he said, trying to sound more convincing than he felt.

As they cut across Lafayette Park, the air grew thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of city traffic. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a soft, warm glow across the dewy grass. They quickened their pace, their shoes crunching the gravel as they weaved through the quiet paths.

In the distance, Alex spotted a young twink walking a fluffy Pomeranian on a hot pink leash. The dog's prancing steps and cheerful yaps echoed through the stillness of the early hour. His owner's lithe frame and bouncy step mirrored the dog's energy, his blond hair reflecting the light like a halo around his head. Alex couldn't help but feel a pang of envy; the twink's carefree demeanor was a stark contrast to the knot in his own stomach.

Under the shade of a nearby grove of palm trees, two handsome gay men had laid out a picnic blanket. They sat cross-legged, sipping from matching travel mugs, their laughter spilling out like music as they shared stories and smiles. The scent of freshly baked bread and the faint aroma of a citrus fruit salad wafted through the air, making Alex's stomach rumble. One of them, a dark-haired Adonis with a five o'clock shadow, leaned over to kiss his partner's cheek, leaving a smudge of lip balm. The other, a fair-skinned man with a sculpted jaw, playfully swiped at his cheek with a napkin, his eyes sparkling with affection.

The muscular man doing calisthenics nearby was a vision of discipline and vitality. His t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, revealing the contours of his chiseled abs as he executed perfect push-ups, his body moving with the grace of a dancer. Each grunt and exhale resonated through the park, a symphony of effort and strength that seemed to charge the very air around him. He paused briefly to wipe the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, and Alex felt a strange attraction, a yearning to be that powerful, that unabashedly masculine.

Mike broke the silence with a sigh. "You know, I've been thinking..."

Alex looked at him expectantly, his eyes flicking from the calisthenics god back to his friend. "Yeah?"

Mike took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the distant office buildings. "I think this job is gonna be a game-changer for us. It's like we're stepping into the big leagues."

Alex nodded in agreement, his eyes lingering on the glowing skyscrapers in the horizon. "It's just... I don't know, I'm a little nervous about starting over."

Mike clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll kill it, buddy. You're the smartest guy I know. And hey, if all else fails, at least you'll look great in a new suit."

Alex chuckled, trying to ignore the rustling he heard from the bushes by the park gates. It was probably just a squirrel or some early morning joggers. But as the sound grew louder, his heart began to race. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting towards the commotion.

"Mike, do you see that?" Alex whispered, pointing at the shadows that seemed to be moving with purpose.

Mike squinted, his eyes following the line of Alex's finger. "What? The bushes? Maybe it's just a raccoon."

Alex didn't take his eyes off the spot. The rustling grew louder, and the black outline grew more defined, shifting into the shape of a human figure. He swallowed hard. "I think we should go," he said, his voice quivering slightly.

Mike rolled his eyes. "You're seeing things, man. It's just the jitters." He slapped Alex on the back again, a bit too hard this time. "You're just nervous about the new gig. Relax."

But Alex couldn't shake off the unease. The sound grew closer, and suddenly, the man doing calisthenics by the palm trees was jolted mid-push-up. He glanced around, his eyes wide with surprise and confusion, before a flash of black engulfed him, and he was yanked into the bushes. The scene unfolded so swiftly that Alex could barely believe his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.

"Mike, did you see that?" Alex hissed, his eyes wide with horror.

Mike, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up with a frown. "See what?"

Alex pointed at the spot where the muscular man had been moments before, his finger trembling slightly. "The guy, the one doing push-ups," he whispered urgently.

Mike followed his gaze, his eyes squinting in confusion. "What about him?"

Alex's jaw dropped. "He's... changed." The man who'd been doing push-ups had emerged from the bushes, his muscles bulging, his skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat. The once-tight t-shirt looked painted on, stretched to its limits by his newfound size. The sleeves had been ripped clean off, and his biceps flexed with the power of a dozen men.

Mike squinted. "You're not serious, right? Did you have a little too much to drink last night?"

Alex's heart raced as he watched the bulked-up figure strut out of the foliage, a cocky smile on his changed face. "No, Mike, look!" Alex's voice was barely above a whisper, fear coating his words. But Mike was too absorbed in his screen to notice. Alex's eyes were glued to the man, who was now flexing his arms, the veins popping out like electric cords. The skin on the man's face was taut, as if it didn't quite fit. He used his fingers to smooth it out, stretching his cheeks and nose, his eyes flickering with something that wasn't entirely human. It was like watching someone put on a Halloween costume, except this costume was made of flesh and bone.

Without warning, the man lifted his arm and sniffed his own pit. The gesture was so casual, so unexpectedly intimate in this bizarre context, that Alex felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. But the man's reaction was anything but natural. His eyes lit up with something akin to hunger. He whistled sharply, the sound piercing the quiet morning air. Alex's blood turned to ice as he realized the whistle wasn't a mere signal—it was a call to arms.

Three figures bolted out of the bushes, each one more terrifying than the last. They were marines, or at least they looked like marines, but something was off. Their uniforms were a shiny, almost wet-looking black rubber, reflecting the early light like a trio of inky pools. Each one was as muscular as the man who'd first emerged, their bodies bulging and stretching the material to its limits. The smell hit Alex next—a heady mix of sweat, rubber, and something faintly chemical. It was overwhelmingly male, overwhelmingly potent.

Alex's instincts took over and he darted behind a park bench, his heart hammering in his chest. The twink with the Pomeranian was frozen in place, the dog barking frantically at the newcomers. The two lovers on the picnic blanket had gone silent, their laughter replaced by the clatter of their dropped mugs. Alex watched as the marines fanned out, their eyes scanning the park, searching.

Mike, still oblivious, was scrolling through his phone. "What's going on, Alex?"

Alex's voice was a choked whisper. "Hide!"

Mike looked up from his phone, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a sinewy Latino marine with a buzzcut and a gleaming smile swooped down on him like a hawk on a field mouse. Alex's heart lurched into his throat as the marine's rubbery hands wrapped around Mike's shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace. The marine's skin was stretched so tautly over his bulging muscles that it looked ready to tear at any moment, and the scent of him was intoxicating—like a mix of new rubber and a locker room after an intense workout. Alex's mind reeled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

The marine lifted one of his thick arms, bringing it under Mike's nose. Mike's eyes widened, his body stiffening as he took in the aroma. The twink looked on, his eyes wide with terror, his Pomeranian barking hysterically as it tried to pull him away. The marine's pit was a cavern of sweat and power, a scent so potent it seemed to silence the very air around them. Mike's struggling ceased, his eyes glazed over with a strange mix of fear and fascination. The marine's grin grew wider as he pushed his arm closer, the sound of fabric brushing against flesh muffling Mike's muffled protests.

The twink's eyes darted around, looking for an escape as the second marine approached him. The man was a mountain of muscle, his rubbery skin flexing with every step. The twink's lithe frame was no match for the marine's bulk, and he was easily picked up despite his flailing limbs. The marine brought his own bulging arm to the twink's nose, the musky scent of his armpit enveloping the smaller man's face. The twink's struggles grew weaker, his body going slack as he breathed in the heady fragrance.

With surprising agility, the marine hoisted the twink above his head. The twink's legs kicked wildly, his shorts riding up to expose a peek of his jockstrap. The marine took advantage of the moment, yanking the shorts down to reveal the twink's bare ass, pale and unblemished in the early light. Alex's heart raced as the marine leaned closer, his grin widening to reveal a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. The twink's eyes grew huge with fear as he realized what was happening.

The marine's arms grew wet, as if lubricated by some unseen substance, and he pushed both hands into the twink's gaping mouth. Alex watched, his stomach churning, as the marine's forearms stretched and distorted, sliding into the twink's hole with a series of obscene, wet sounds. The twink's eyes bulged, his cheeks puffed out like a blowfish as the marine's rubbery limbs disappeared into his body. The marine's shoulders and biceps followed, his skin stretching like taffy as it squeezed through the twink's tight opening.

Alex's gaze snapped back to Mike, who had dropped his phone, his eyes locked on Alex with a look of horror. The Latino marine had one hand wrapped around the back of Mike's neck, the other buried in his throat. Mike's face was reddening as the marine's arms pushed deeper into his body, his throat stretching and bulging with each sickening inch. Alex could see the outline of the marine's muscular forearms moving beneath Mike's skin, like a pair of serpents wriggling under a taut blanket. The marine's smile never wavered, his teeth gleaming as he pushed in further, his body seemingly compressing as it forced its way into Mike's.

The sound of the twink's moans grew louder, his body convulsing as the marine continued to stretch and squeeze himself inside. The rubbery limbs slithered and squelched, his massive boots disappearing into the twink's body with a wet pop. Alex's stomach churned, his mind reeling as he watched the two men be consumed by these monstrous intruders.

Mike's eyes grew wild, his hands grasping at the marine's arms as they bulged through his skin. The marine's boots slid into his mouth, the rubbery material stretching and suctioning into Mike's maw entirely. The smell hit Alex like a truck—sweat, rubber, and musk—as Mike's nose and mouth were filled with the soldier's scent. Alex's vision swam with horror as Mike's body grew taut, his shirt tearing at the seams as the marine's torso pushed into his.

The marine's legs began to slide downward, his rubbery thighs thickening as they squeezed into Mike's skinny legs. The fabric of Mike's pants split open as the marine's muscles bulged through, the sound of his shoes bursting echoing through the silent park. Mike's feet ballooned into the same gigantic size as the marine's, the stink of rubber and sweat now emanating from his soles.

Alex's horror grew as the marine's head started to stretch up into Mike's throat as his features stretched and distorted. The marine's hands, now fully inside Mike's, began to manipulate his body like a puppeteer, making him flex and pose unnaturally. Mike's eyes rolled back in his head, his face a mask of pain and bewilderment as his arms grew longer and bulkier, the marine filling him out like a balloon animal. Alex watched, frozen with fear, as the marine's hands slipped into Mike's, thick and powerful, his knuckles popping out like those of a heavyweight boxer.

The marine's head suctioned into Mike's, the skin of their faces merging like molten wax. Alex's stomach lurched as he saw Mike's nose flatten and widen, his cheekbones become more pronounced, and his jawline square off. His face grew more defined, the skin on Mike's body tightening over the new, more muscular structure beneath.

The transformation was complete when the marine's head disappeared entirely, and Mike's body jolted upright. The once-slender frame was now a powerhouse of bulging muscles and sinew, the new occupant flexing and stretching his new form. Mike's eyes snapped open, but they were no longer Mike's; they were the piercing, steely gaze of the marine. Across the park the twink's soft, pouty mouth was replaced by the marine's firm, commanding one, and his voice had deepened to a gruff growl. He looked down at his now-massive chest and flexed, the former twink's lithe body now a canvas of thick, bulging biceps and a washboard stomach. His legs had thickened into tree trunks, and his ass was now a round, muscular shelf that would make any gym-goer weep with envy.

The other marines, now fully inside their hosts, strutted over, their rubbery skin glinting in the early sun. The possessed civilian men had morphed into a pack of hyper-masculine soldiers, their movements coordinated and powerful. They gathered around the picnic blanket, where the two lovers were now bulging masses of muscle and sweat, their former selves indistinguishable. The dark-haired man, now a towering brute, flexed his arms, the fair-skinned man's delicate wrists and hands now thick and veined, his fingers curling into fists that could crush rocks.

Alex watched, his hand clamped over his mouth to stifle the scream building in his chest. He was transfixed by the transformation, his eyes flicking between the new marines. They slapped each other's backs, their high-fives reverberating through the silent park. The men's laughter was deep and gruff, the sound of a frat house after a workout montage. The twink, his body now a muscular behemoth, bent over, his massive glutes flexing as he picked up his tiny dog. The Pomeranian yipped in his new owner's oversized hand, tail wagging with excitement or fear, Alex couldn't tell.

He knew he had to do something, had to get help. His trembling hand reached into his pocket for his phone. But before he could even grasp it, a shadow fell over him, the scent of rubber and sweat overwhelming. He looked up to find the final marine towering over him, his grin wild and his eyes glinting with mischief. The man was the most muscular of the group, his rubbery skin stretched tight over bulging biceps and a chest that looked like it could stop a truck. The smell coming off him was far more pungent than the others—like a gym locker stuffed with week-old workout gear.

"Looks like you're the last one," the marine said, his voice a gruff taunt. Alex felt a cold shiver of fear run down his spine, his hand tightening around his phone. But before he could even think of dialing, the marine grabbed him by the head, his thick, gloved fingers digging into his scalp.

"Take a deep breath, boy," the marine ordered, his voice a gravelly purr. Alex's nose was shoved into the damp bulge of his crotch, the smell of his sweat-drenched latex making him gag. The scent was a noxious cloud of cheesy funk, ripe and thick, and it filled Alex's nostrils like a punch. His eyes watered, and he tried to squirm away, but the marine's grip was like a vice.

"Good boy," the marine grunted, his calloused hands wrenching Alex's face closer to the damp crotch of his rubbery armor. Alex's nostrils flared as he was forced to inhale deeply, the cheesy reek of the marine's sweat so potent it seemed to coat the back of his throat. The scent was overpowering, a miasmic cloud of testosterone and rubber that filled the air around them. With every breath, Alex felt his panic ebbing, his muscles unclenching despite the horror of the situation. It was as if the very essence of this alien creature was seeping into him, calming him, dominating him. "Take another," the marine ordered, his voice a gruff rumble that seemed to resonate in Alex's very bones.

Alex obeyed, his eyes watering as he took another deep, shuddering inhale. The smell was thick, a heady mix of male pheromones and something... else. It was alien, yet strangely alluring, and his cock began to stir in his pants despite the fear coursing through his veins. The marine chuckled, his laughter a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through the very ground beneath them. "You like that, don't you?" he sneered, his grip tightening. "You're going to love what I've got in store for you."

The marine leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across Alex's cheek. "You know, I've always wondered what it would be like to be inside a little queer like you." He whispered, his words dripping with malice. "I bet you're all about that musk, aren't you?" Alex couldn't form words, his brain fogging over with the overwhelming scent. His eyes glazed over, and his thoughts grew hazy, the only thing clear was the marine's smell.

With a grin that was all teeth and no kindness, the marine announced, "Alright, I'm going in." He didn't bother with finesse, shoving his arms into Alex's gaping mouth. Alex felt the stretch and burn of his throat widening, his body desperately trying to reject this intrusion, but it was no use. The rubbery limbs pushed deeper, the marine's skin sliding into his own with a wet, stretching sound that seemed to echo in his ears.

Panic set in as the marine's bulging biceps filled his mouth, his thick wrists brushing the back of his throat. The scent of rubber and sweat grew stronger, filling Alex's nose and throat, but instead of fear, he felt something else—a strange, overwhelming euphoria. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced, a warmth that spread from his core outwards, wrapping him in a blanket of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He tried to scream, to resist, but all that came out was a muffled moan, his voice lost to the thickness of the marine's arms.

The marine's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light as he pushed further, his chest and abs slithering into Alex's body like a serpent made of muscle and sweat. Alex's own skin stretched and bulged, the marine's rubbery flesh seeping into him, filling him out with a newfound strength and power. His throat convulsed around the thick torso, his body betraying him with a shiver of pleasure.

The other marines watched with rapt attention, their eyes alight with excitement. One of them, a blond giant who'd been a middle-aged office worker mere moments ago, let out a low whistle. "Looks like Cap found a nice, snug fit," he quipped, his voice a deep bass that seemed to rumble through the ground.

Alex felt his throat stretch and expand to accommodate the marine's thick boots, the rubber squeaking and popping as it slithered down his gullet. The smell was indescribable—like a football field after a rainstorm, mixed with the pungency of a gym that hadn't been aired out in weeks. Yet, as the boots disappeared into his body, the feeling of power that had begun in his throat grew stronger, spreading through him like a wildfire. His eyes rolled back in his head as the marine's legs pushed into his, the fabric of his pants stretching to the point of tearing.

The captain chuckled, his voice a deep bass that seemed to resonate through Alex's very soul. "You're taking it like a champ," he murmured, his words vibrating through the rubber that was now Alex's flesh. The other marines had gathered around, their new, muscular forms flexing and stretching in the early morning light. They were like a pack of wolves, eager to see their alpha take his new form.

Alex's body convulsed as the captain's head pushed into his, the sound of skin stretching and popping like bubble wrap. His own eyes widened with terror as the captain's face pushed through his, his features distorting into something monstrous. The captain's eyes were cold, calculating, his smile a sadistic sneer as he took over Alex's terrified expression. "Ohhh fuck yeah, that's what I'm talking about," the captain groaned, his voice now a deep, resonant bass that seemed to shake the very air.

The Captain's new body was a cacophony of sensations—his skin tight and stretched, his muscles bulging and pulsing with unnatural power. The smell from the captain's pits was a potent cocktail of sweat and rubber, so intense it was almost tangible. It filled his nose and lungs, a scent so thick and overpowering that it was like breathing in pure male virility. His stomach churned with a mix of fear and arousal, his cock hardening against his will.

The other marines, their own host bodies now fully under their control, gathered around, their grins stretching from ear to ear. The blond giant that used to be Mike slapped the captain on the back, his hand landing with a wet slap against the rubbery flesh. "Looks like the captain's got himself a hard-on for the job," he jeered, his voice now a deep baritone that seemed to resonate through the air.

Alex felt his own cock stiffen against his will, the alien presence inside him controlling his body's responses. The captain chuckled darkly, his rubbery hands reaching down to palm the bulge that had formed in Alex's pants. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" he chided, his voice now a deep, gruff taunt that seemed to resonate through Alex's very soul. "You want a taste of this?"

The blond giant, who was once Mike, took a step closer, his own bulging muscles shifting and flexing with a grace that seemed almost inhuman. He leaned in and slapped the captain's bulging crotch playfully. "Hey, Cap," he drawled, a wicked glint in his eyes, "Don't go forgetting we gotta keep that tongue of yours for the ladies." The former twink's voice had deepened into a bass that seemed to rumble from the very earth.

The captain, now fully ensconced in Alex's body, grinned wickedly, his rubbery fingers still wrapped around Alex's thickening cock. "Don't worry, I'm just breaking it in," he said, his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down Alex's spine. "But once we're done here, I'm definitely going to be plowing some pussy with this queer cock."

Alex felt his body responding against his will, his dick growing harder and thicker with every twist of the captain's hand. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion, but the alien presence inside him was growing stronger, overwhelming his thoughts with images of power and dominance. The other marines watched with hungry eyes, their own bulges growing as they awaited their orders.

The captain stepped back, his hand still wrapped around Alex's cock. "Alright, men," he barked, his voice a command that seemed to echo through the deserted park. "Recon mission begins now. Keep a low profile in those fleshsuits until we spot our target."

The other marines snapped to attention, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Sir, yes sir!" they barked in unison, their deep, gruff voices bouncing off the surrounding trees. With a nod from the captain, they dispersed, their bulging muscles rippling as they moved in a coordinated fashion that seemed almost inhuman. They melded into the early-morning shadows, becoming a silent, lethal force of nature.

Alex's heart raced as he felt the alien presence in his body take control, his own thoughts receding into the background. He was just a passenger in his own flesh, a silent observer to the horror unfolding. The captain's gaze swept over the empty park before settling on the street beyond. A beautiful woman, her hips swaying in a tight skirt and her blonde hair bouncing in the early morning light, walked by, oblivious to the monstrosities hiding just out of sight.

The captain's smile grew hungry, his rubbery hand squeezing Alex's cock with a newfound gusto. "Well, gay boy," he murmured, his voice a deep, guttural purr that seemed to resonate in Alex's very soul, "Let's make you a man, shall we?" The words sent a shiver down Alex's spine, a mix of terror and arousal that made him feel sick.

With a grunt, the captain began to strut Alex's body over toward the unsuspecting woman, his rubbery legs moving with a confidence that Alex had never felt before. Each step sent waves of power through Alex's body, his muscles bulging and flexing with every movement. The woman looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the hulking figure approaching her. The captain's gaze locked onto her, his eyes gleaming with a predatory lust that made Alex's stomach drop.

As they got closer, the woman's eyes flickered with attraction. The captain leaned in, his nose brushing against her cheek as he whispered something in her ear. Alex's mind screamed for him to stop, but his body was no longer his own. He watched in horror as his new, monstrous self bent her over the hood of a nearby car, hiking her skirt up to reveal her naked ass with a lustful smile. The captain's hands roamed over her body, his touch leaving a trail of sticky wetness that made her skin shine in the morning light. "Yeah, just like that," he murmured, his voice a gruff, animalistic growl that seemed to make the woman quiver with anticipation and Alex in silent horror.

#male possession #male bodysuit #male tf #male transformation #soldier #rubber #male merging #male takeover #breeder tf

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ayyunah · 8 months ago

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did you already forget? You weren’t supposed to know that.

#Schools done so I’m free and this I was possessed to make this at 9pm #Anyways #i poured my heart and soul into this I love it #I do think I could’ve done better but ehhh #Morse code goes brrr #Idk how I wanted to the effects so I js went w that bc idk how else I could’ve done it #Anywaysss #emesis blue #tf2 #Team fortress 2 #tf2 soldier #Tw gun #Bro my ass said I wouldn’t be going deep into the tf2 fandom but here I am #‘Twas inevitable #tw scopophobia #my art #Fanart #silverlombaxwitch

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th3tism · 4 months ago

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Hiii~ how ya doin? Can i humbly request mercs with a SO tgat accidently gives tzem aphrodisiac chocolate pretty please??😏😏

Sir yes sir 🫡 (or ma'am, idk ❤️)

Also I'm doing rlly good. Just rlly tired 💀

Mercs: scout, medic, soldier

Merc with aphrodisiac chocolates!!! (Kinda nsfw)

Scout:

The man's already horny. This just kinda fueled the fire

"hey babe, what're these chocolates called?"

"... Jeremy... Those are aphrodisiacs..."

"... Aphro huh?"

He's just gonna be following you around like a lost dog

Making sexual comments, hinting at sex a lot. He's not subtle about it

Soldier:

He's just gonna fuck you

He doesn't give a fuck

"oh noo I can't control myself"

"Soldier, you took one bite of a single piece of chocolate..."

This is what I'm referencing btw

He's either gonna pull you away or fuck you right then and there

Or if he's not gonna fuck you, he's just gonna cling onto you and rub his bulge on your ass to hunt at what he wants

Medic:

He knows how to deal with aphrodisiac, but he'll humor you

"Wow, these are wunderbar!"

"oh um... Baby those are aphrodisiacs..."

"oh I know, don't worry. We'll deal with that later <3"

And then he just continues munching on them

Cut to y'all having obnoxiously loud sex on his operating table

#teamfortress2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #i rlly like tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #scout x reader #fried lotud asks #soldier x reader #soldier tf2 #soldier 🤤#medic x reader #tf2 medic #cw: suggestive #yall im so sorry idk what possessed me when I was making soldier's part of the post

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evenshands · 1 year ago

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the man on the bridge... i knew him

#BUT I KNEW HIMMMMMMMM #u ever just get possessed by your 2014 self #marvel #catws #marveledit #catwsedit #gif*#mine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #captain america the winter soldier #essentially i was talking about how downhill marvel has gone recently and it prompted me to return to this masterpiece and i #i look at him and my eyes turn into big circles #big BIG circles

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bandsofmarv · 1 month ago

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Mine to keep

Bucky can no longer hold in his jealous and possessive side and finally claims you.

TW- Heavy smut, bucky angst , jealousy, possessive behaviour. Kinda long.

Side note // I’m also take requests of any character / theme.

Bucky’s blood had been boiling all night. Steve, the perfect All-American golden boy, basking in your attention, your laugh lighting up every damn corner of the bar. And Steve wasn’t even trying—he never had to. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

Bucky’s drink sat untouched as he leaned against the bar, his jaw tight and his metal fingers twitching with restraint. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up his spine every time you smiled at Steve.

When Steve finally stepped away to grab another round, Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the bar and cut through the crowd, his determined strides carrying him straight to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice light and playful.

Bucky didn’t return the smile. His eyes were dark, fixed on yours as he crowded into your space. “Having fun?” His voice was a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, confused by the tension radiating off him. “Uh, yeah? It’s been nice to catch up with everyone. Steve’s been—”

“Yeah, Steve’s been the life of the party,” Bucky interrupted, his voice tight.

Your brow furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.” His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh. “Watching him make you laugh like that? Watching you light up for him? You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice sent a bolt of heat straight through you, your stomach flipping at the raw emotion behind his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Let’s go,” he growled.

————————————————————————

The second your apartment door shut behind you, Bucky had you pinned against it. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry and demanding, his metal hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Sitting there looking so goddamn perfect, laughing at his jokes like you don’t know you belong to me.”

“I—” Your protest was cut off as he kissed you again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you. His flesh hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind his hard length against you.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a dark smirk as he lifted you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his hands already tugging at your clothes with a mix of urgency and reverence.

“Bucky,” you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands—both flesh and metal—explored your body, pulling away your layers one by one.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your bare skin as he worked. “I’ve got you. Just let me show you.”

When he finally had you naked beneath him, he sat back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with undisguised hunger. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking beautiful. All mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he kissed his way down your body. His lips and tongue left a trail of fire in their wake, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“I want to hear you,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” And then his mouth was on you, his tongue sliding against your heat with practiced precision. You cried out, your hips bucking against him as he licked and sucked, his metal hand pinning you to the bed while his flesh hand teased your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pressure built quickly, your body arching as his tongue drove you higher and higher. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your body shattering around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until you were trembling beneath him. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, his voice rough with need.

He stripped off his clothes, his muscular frame glinting in the low light of the room. His cock stood hard and ready, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

He climbed over you, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Turn over,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, rolling onto your stomach as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees before he slid into you with one smooth thrust.

The stretch was perfect, and you moaned loudly, your hands fisting in the sheets as he set a punishing pace.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his metal hand sliding up your back to grip the nape of your neck. “So tight, so perfect. All mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear. “I’ll never let you forget it.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Your pleasure built quickly, and you felt yourself spiraling toward another release.

“Come for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me feel you.”

The command sent you over the edge, your body clenching around him as your second orgasm tore through you. Bucky groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release following moments later.

You collapsed onto the bed together, your bodies slick with sweat and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bucky pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain.

“Always,” you whispered, your heart full as you melted into his embrace.

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graylinesspam · 20 days ago

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Terracotta soldier AU from Rex's pov

Rex has never made his mind up on any idea of faith. Not the kind in a higher power at least. He'd had faith in his brothers. That's why he carried on their traditions. Long after most of them had gone when so many names had been lost to a relatively short period of time. He recites all that he can remember.

He speaks the name of each brother into the cold night air and promises that he will see them at the end of the long march.

It might not be a proper religion. But its all he has left.

And Rex is a man of his word. When he exhales his last lonely breath into the darkness his eyes going blind and his chest still, his legs are the first things he's aware of. The familiar pump of muscles.

One foot in front of the other. Like learning to walk all over again. There's a sea of white as far as the eye can see. A great blinding glare that moves all around him. But slowly it solidifies. The shape of helmets crawling over each other until they start to look like men, One in front of another. Stretching in every direction. Forever.

There isn't enough of him here to really be conscious. There aren't really thoughts in his mind. Just echoes of instincts. Like the instinct to put on foot in front of the other. The instinct to blink until his sight adjusts to the view.

It's the colors slowly emerging that draw his attention. It bleeds through the light one spot at a time. Slowly markings appear on the armor of the men around him. Blue and red and green and gold. One after another. A red circle on the pauldron beside him, a blue line up another arm.

It tickles something within him. Blue. He was blue too right? Once.

He wants to follow the blue. That's where he belongs. The mass of troops shudder once to the side, every line of men staggering one to the right another to the left. Reshuffling themselves like cards. Slipping between each other in interlocking lines. Moving forward. Always forward with ever unified foot fall. But shifting too. reaching out toward each other.

He shifts to the right toward the blue stripe who shifts as well in the same direction, farther ahead now. But there is more blue around both of them. Lines spreading around him like on interconnected web. countless troopers stacked on each other like the solders on playing cards. Shuffling around each other all looking for their own suit.

Always moving forward always together.

The blue solidifies as they shuffle around each other. Filling in the gaps until there's as much of it as there is white. He is blue. He is the blue. They are the blue. All existing here in this place together. Every piece in place.

It felt right. This is where he was always supposed to be. just one among the blue.

They march on forever. Everywhere. Far far away. Everywhere at once. Him among the blue. The blue among the white. Don't all colors come together to make white? Or is that only inside the light?

He marches. One foot in front of forever; one foot behind always.

Moving so much in sync it's like they aren't moving at all.

If everything is moving in the same direction at the same speed then is any of it really moving. What is still if nothing is?

Except....except something is. He sees it because it's blue, he thinks. He is blue and they are all blue. So of course he sees the blue.

It's not moving. It's not with them. That's wrong. They are all blue together.

His feet shuffle him again. Cards in the hands of the collective folding into themselves. There is no edge of everything. Everything is everything. it goes on forever. There is no end. But if there was, that's where he finds the blue.

She stands still. The only thing in everything that isn't moving. She needs to move. With them. He takes another unified step foreword and he is past her now. Marching away.

No. That's not right. He tries to shuffle again but there is no behind. The march is forward. All moving forward with every step. Always one foot in front of the other. He tries to look back but there is no back.

But there is. He can feel it. He can feel her a single steadiness in the flow. Parting the blue. Being among but not part of.

That's not right. He should tell her. Maybe she doesn't remember how. Maybe she doesn't have the word for foot like he didn't have the word blue until he saw it again.

But he can't tell her if she's still back there. He has to get to her. Every step takes him farther away but he knows that isn't right either. He needs to stop.

As soon as he thinks it he does. His feet stuck between always and forever. The cards shuffle around him. Moving on and leaving him behind. He...he is sad about that.

But it's okay. If Everything is always then back is always too. He turns back seeing the faces moving towards him for the first time in forever. He knows them. The faces.

Fives.

Hardcase.

Jesse.

Kix.

Tup.

They see him. See his face for the first time in forever and they stop too. Their feet stalling in time. Behind all of them, way back, he sees her. She's still there. Standing. Waiting patiently.

He remembers how to do this. It's the only thing he remembered before he saw anything here. Marching is easy. One foot....He doesn't know where forever or always are. One foot goes....Infront.

He takes a step and feels like he's learning it all over again. He forgets what the next step is. One foot in front is all his mind conjures. So he tries again. One at a time. One step, two, three.

He walks past the face. the ones moving and those standing still. She's waiting for him. He has to get back to her. He marches towards her....Ahsoka. And it isn't easy like it was before. It isn't everything always. But it is him. It is Rex. He'd forgotten that.

He is Rex. Rex follows Ahsoka.

He will walk back through forever to get to her.

One foot behind forever one foot in front of always. The wrong way. His way. Backwards.

There's another one following him. Another foot falling backwards. He can feel it disrupting the flow with him. One foot after another. One man after another. The blue warps and bends against it's self. Fracturing into a thousand pieces. Breaking away from everything. Becoming singular.

Rex marches back to Ahsoka and Fives follows. They all follow one by one. They are the blue. The 501st. Torrent company. Medics and pilots and snipers. Heavy gunner and scouts. They are men. Soliders. They are singular in the constant flow of everything all the time.

And Ahsoka waits patiently for them to remember.

To remember their names. Each others names. Her name.

She's reciting them.

Rex forgot he could speak. He forgot he could say names.

She says them one by one. "...Oppo, slate, cadaver, coric..."

Rex says them too just to hear them. "Dogma, Hawk, Limp, Chatter..."

Maybe that's how he saw her in the first place. Past all of the blue. Because she said his name. Remembered it for him.

Fives speaks, discovering his voice too. Then Jesse.

Most of the blue stops. Every one Ahsoka remembered then every one each of them remembered until the blue had bled out of the white. Outside of Everything and forever.

"You've all served your time. Served it long and well." She says when there are no more names, "You have earned your rest. But I have a mission. And I am asking for your help. I'm asking you to come back with me."

"Ahsoka" Rex says.

He remembers reciting her name. When he thought she was dead. Hoping if there was something after, then he could at least see her one last time.

Fives says it too. Then Jesse. All the way down the line they say her name. "Ahsoka"

Rex reaches a hand out to her and almost glows when it touches her shoulder. She is solid. Not made of light. Made of something more solid.

He's...he's solid too right? He thinks they were all solid together once. He knocks his vambrace against his chest plate to check and is pleased when it rattles. He hits it again just to hear the noise.

And it grows. One at a time. It rattle far too solid to exist within forever. It is fleeting as temporary as the collision that causes it. It only exists so long as they create it.

He remembers another word. One that isn't a name.

"Oya" he shouts just to hear it.

and it grows

Because He is Rex and Rex follows Ahsoka.

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fangdokja · 2 days ago

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i keep rereading your yan marine corps! x fem reader. what was reader's role that she had to follow the marine's... adventure?

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where death is mercy and survival means suffering, he claims you as his, promising protection through fear, control, and a twisted love that will leave you questioning if escape was ever truly possible.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #2 - The Devil Who Saved You

♡ Word Count. 3,153

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, descriptions of gore and human suffering, themes of violence and dystopia

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)). I'm surprised you're rereading it a bunch. But, I guess people do technically reread anyway. Sorry, slipped out of my mind. It just makes me happy seeing underrated works get credit, whether fandom or other stories I've written. So, thank you. Anyways. Technically, this was an ask. But it's a nice idea, and I've already had it in my drafts since before. I was just postponing lore dump with Yandere! Marine Corps, due to other works. Anyways. All I knew before, in all honesty, is that it's war time. But, time to pull out the fantasy skills and world build! Wooh! And to be honest, I'm hungry to write some gore crumbs like my familiar writing style, ahh. So, here, I present to you lore backstory (well technically part of the backstory). Hope you all enjoy it (also, sorry I talk a lot in notes).

♡ Music. Levee & Brick (Down to This) by Graffiti Ghosts

The world had fallen into an abyss so deep it seemed there was no end to its descent. The wars that came before—those waged for borders, ideologies, or resources—were merely preludes to this ultimate collapse. What erupted now was not war; it was annihilation. A calamity that turned cities into craters and humanity into prey. Every shred of civility burned away in the endless fires of desperation. The air was thick with the ash of the old world, a grim veil that painted the skies an eternal gray.

You had lived a different life once, one of relative normalcy in the dwindling days before the collapse. Back then, you had a future, a purpose, something as simple and human as hope. But that had been stripped away when the world’s powers unleashed devastation so complete it birthed horrors no living creature could comprehend. Technology had become a weapon of eradication, bioweapons and nanotech turning survivors into deformed creatures of flesh and steel, feral and mindless, hunting whatever moved. Rogue factions—remnants of militaries, mercenaries, and scavengers—rose like carrion birds, preying on the remnants of humanity.

In this hellscape, survival was no longer a matter of luck but of submission. Submission to those strong enough to carve their will into the earth and impose their dominion. He was one of those few. A towering force of unyielding violence, a soldier molded by decades of carnage, by a war that had reshaped him from a man into something closer to a machine of flesh and blood. The United Corps, once a venerated military institution, had fractured into splinter groups, each operating like a self-contained warlord’s regime. He was among their best—a leader, an executioner, a strategist, and now your captor.

You were assigned to him by pure chance—or perhaps cruel design. In this new order, value wasn’t measured by money or power but by the usefulness of flesh and mind. And you had been marked as useful. Perhaps it was your background—your knowledge, your resilience, or simply the misfortune of catching his attention when your convoy was intercepted by his unit. The corps didn’t merely take prisoners; they assessed, dissected, and consumed whatever remnants of humanity they deemed salvageable.

And he deemed you salvageable.

There were no illusions about the nature of his claim over you. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t mercy. It was obsession, possessive and cruel, born of a warped sense of necessity. “You belong to me now,” he had told you in that deep, unrelenting tone, the heat of his breath warming your face even as the chill of his words froze your soul. “Out there, they’ll rip you apart for the scraps on your bones. With me, you’ll live—if you behave.”

The battlefield was safer than the no-man’s land outside his dominion. That was the most damning truth. To run from him was to dive into a living nightmare where survival wasn’t a goal but a punishment. Outside his protection, death was not granted quickly.

You’d seen it. You’d heard the screams echoing through the wastelands, watched the crude factories churn with suffering. He’d forced you to look once, pressing your face against the window of a blood processing plant as tears streaked down your cheeks. “This is what’s waiting for you if you run,” he had whispered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “With me, you’re mine. Out there, you’re theirs. Decide.”

────────────

The smell hit you first. It wasn’t just the copper tang of blood; it was the rancid stench of rotting flesh mixed with chemicals—formaldehyde, acid, and something sour that clawed at the back of your throat. You gagged, instinctively raising a trembling hand to cover your nose, but he was quicker. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your arm back down with enough force to make you whimper.

“Don’t look away,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating like a distant explosion. “You need to see this.”

You didn’t want to see. You didn’t! But he held you there, his unyielding grip on your wrist a silent command. He stood just behind you, close enough that his breath fanned across the back of your neck, hot and suffocating.

The factory loomed before you like the mouth of some great beast, its jagged, rusted metal teeth glinting in the dim light of the sulfur-stained sky. The air outside had been foul, but inside, it was worse—a miasma of decay and despair.

The conveyor belts stretched endlessly, carrying bodies in various states of disassembly. Some were intact, their limbs hanging limply as they were dragged by crude metal hooks. Others were barely recognizable—mangled flesh and shattered bone mashed together in a grotesque parody of humanity. You tried to look away, to focus on the machinery, but even that was a nightmare of grinding gears slick with gore.

A loud, wet squelch drew your attention to a nearby station. A corpse—a woman, or at least what remained of her—was hoisted onto a steel slab. Her eyes were still open, glassy and staring, as if frozen in the moment of her death. A mechanical arm descended, its blade glinting dully under the flickering industrial lights. It carved into her chest with a precision that was almost surgical, splitting her ribcage open to reveal the organs beneath.

You felt bile rise in your throat as another arm extended, pincers gripping her heart. It yanked the organ free with a sickening suction sound, sending a spray of blood across the walls and floor. The heart was deposited into a waiting vat, where it joined dozens of others, floating in a viscous, murky liquid.

“They don’t waste anything,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, as if he were explaining the workings of a simple machine. “Every part has a purpose. The skin for leather. The bones for tools. The organs for… whatever the hell they need them for.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “No,” he hissed, his breath hot and sharp against your ear. “You don’t get to faint. You’re going to watch. You’re going to understand.”

A scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, and you realized with horror that some of them weren’t dead. Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, landing on a man thrashing against his restraints as he was dragged toward another station. His legs were gone, severed at the thighs, and the stumps had been crudely cauterized to keep him alive.

“Please,” the man sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Please, just kill me. Just—”

The blade came down before he could finish, cleaving his remaining arm from his body. His scream turned guttural, the sound of a soul breaking, before it was cut off entirely by a needle plunging into his neck. The liquid injected was thick and black, spreading through his veins like oil. His body convulsed violently for a moment before going still.

You turned your head, choking on a sob, but he gripped your chin and forced you to face the scene again. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising and relentless.

“This is what happens without me,” he said, his voice a low snarl. “You think you can survive out there? Think you can make it without my protection? Look at them!” He shook you slightly, as if to drive the point home. “This is what you are without me—meat.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and shameful, as you stared at the conveyor belts and the countless bodies reduced to parts. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the nausea that twisted your stomach into knots.

Another scream pierced the air, this one an elder's. Your head snapped toward the sound, and your heart plummeted. A thin figure, frail and sickly, was strapped to a table, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the approaching machinery.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

The machine didn’t care. The blades descended, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the image burned into your mind even as you tried to block it out.

He didn’t let you escape even that. His hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “Don’t you dare look away,” he growled. “This is reality. This is what’s waiting for you if you run.”

You broke then, sobbing uncontrollably, your body wracked with shuddering breaths. He held you there, unyielding, until you were too weak to fight. Only then did he pull you close, his grip on you shifting from punishing to possessive.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying. “You understand now, don’t you? You’re mine. And as long as you’re mine, this will never happen to you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, a mockery of comfort as he whispered, “But if you ever forget, I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll make you watch again.”

────────────

The battlefield stretched like a bleeding wound across the earth, jagged trenches carved into the mud and ash. The remnants of what had once been cities were nothing more than skeletal buildings clawing at the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning fuel and the gut-wrenching stench of charred flesh. Bomb craters bubbled with viscous, oily water that gleamed under the pale, radioactive sun. It was a place where hope had been smothered, where humanity’s last breaths came in choking, gurgling gasps.

He stood before you, his shadow long and oppressive, a monolith of muscle and bloodied steel. His armor—if you could call the piecemeal, blood-streaked remains of his tactical gear armor—clung to him like a second skin, the fabric worn thin and blackened with soot. In his hand, a rifle dangled lazily, as though he didn’t need it. And he didn’t. He was a weapon unto himself, his body and mind honed by decades of violence, cruelty, and war.

“Do you remember this place?” His voice was a low rumble, scraping against your nerves like a blade dragged across bone. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into you with a force that made your knees weak. “Where I found you?”

You nodded faintly, though you didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Your silence wasn’t just fear—it was a learned response, a survival tactic you’d mastered in the years since he’d claimed you.

“Do you know what they were going to do to you?” He crouched, bringing his face level with yours. His presence was suffocating, his frame dwarfing your own. His voice dropped lower, almost tender, as though sharing a secret. “No, you don’t. You only saw what they let you see. Let me show you the rest.”

He yanked you forward, his grip on your wrist unyielding, and led you toward the edge of the battlefield. The ground squelched beneath your feet, a revolting mixture of mud, blood, and something viscous that you didn’t want to identify. In the distance, the ruins of an old hospital came into view. The building leaned at an unnatural angle, its walls crumbling but still intact enough to conceal the horrors within.

“You’ve seen death,” he said, his tone conversational, as though discussing the weather. “But you haven’t seen what people do when death isn’t enough. When they want to break you first.”

The interior of the hospital reeked of antiseptic and decay. The sterile smell of chemicals clashed with the unmistakable odor of rot. The walls were streaked with dark stains, their origins uncomfortably clear as you stepped over discarded limbs, the flesh marbled with gangrene and crude surgical scars.

In the first room, a soldier lay strapped to a gurney, his body contorted unnaturally. His chest had been split open, ribs wrenched apart like the wings of a grotesque bird. His heart was missing, the cavity where it had once beat filled with a tangled mess of wires and tubing. The machinery whirred softly, pumping fluids through his veins and forcing his lungs to expand and contract in shallow, mechanical breaths. His eyes were still open, rolling wildly in their sockets as they locked onto you.

“He’s alive,” the man behind you whispered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. “Barely. They like to see how far they can push the human body before it gives out. Sometimes they even stitch people back together, just to see how much more they can take.”

You gagged, your stomach lurching violently, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face the horror. “Don’t look away,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You need to understand. This is what was waiting for you.”

He dragged you into another room, this one colder, darker. Rows of tanks filled the space, each containing a murky, greenish fluid that distorted the shapes inside. At first, you thought they were bodies, but as you moved closer, you realized they were something worse. Limbs were fused together in impossible configurations, heads sprouted from torsos without necks, and eyes blinked independently in faces twisted beyond recognition. The creatures floated listlessly, their expressions a grotesque mix of agony and confusion.

“Human experimentation,” he explained, almost lazily. “They weren’t trying to kill you. They were going to use you. Turn you into something like this. A weapon. Or worse—a resource.”

You stumbled backward, but he caught you, his arm curling around your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. He pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a dark caress. “I killed them all for you. Do you see now why you belong to me? Why you owe me your life?”

He pushed you onward, through rooms filled with horrors you couldn’t have imagined in your darkest nightmares. A man impaled on a series of metal rods, his skin flayed back to expose muscle and bone, still breathing through a series of tubes jammed into his throat. A woman with her limbs replaced by crude prosthetics, her mouth sewn shut but her eyes screaming. People of all ages locked in cages, their bodies twisted and deformed, their cries muffled by gags soaked in blood.

“This is what humanity has become,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “This is what I saved you from. You were a prize to them. A rare find. They would’ve broken you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You fell to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you. He crouched beside you, his bloodied hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were filled with something dark, something terrifyingly close to affection.

“Don’t forget this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t ever forget who saved you. Who you belong to. Because without me…” His voice trailed off as he gestured toward the carnage around you. “This is all you’d ever know.”

You sobbed, the sound muffled against his chest as he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was as suffocating as it was unyielding, a cage that you could never escape. And yet, in that moment, you clung to him, because the alternative was too horrifying to bear.

────────────

So you stayed.

Not because you trusted him. Not because you wanted him. But because the alternative was infinitely worse. And yet, staying came with its own horrors, its own chains. His obsession didn’t shield you from his cruelty; it only redirected it. He was a man who didn’t just command obedience—he demanded submission. Every glance, every word, every trembling breath was a reminder of your place beneath him. When he touched you, it wasn’t with gentleness. His hands were calloused and bruising, gripping and claiming, leaving marks that would never fade.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he would say when your eyes filled with defiance or despair. “You’re still alive because I allow it.”

The world outside was dead, a barren wasteland of mutilation and starvation, yet with him, the torment was suffocatingly personal. He didn’t just want your compliance; he wanted your surrender. His words were a scalpel, cutting into your psyche with surgical precision. He would pull you close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered promises of protection intertwined with threats so visceral they made your stomach churn.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his hand resting possessively on your throat. “Every inch of you. Every thought. Every breath. Try to take that away from me, and I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”

There were moments when his control slipped, when the line between protector and predator blurred beyond recognition. He would keep you close, his body a cage of muscle and violence, his gaze piercing through your facade of composure. The way his hands roamed wasn’t tender—it was invasive, a reminder that he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

And yet, you didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Resistance wasn’t a choice. Not here. Not with him.

The world outside was unlivable. The world with him was unbearable. Between the two, you chose to endure.

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General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring

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