#hydra tw

[biitchcakes]

H E A D C A N O N .

a FEAR of anything that's of a medical or surgical nature .

Due to these traumatic experiences, Jessica trusts very few people with her medically ⸺ LINDA CARTER being her consistent and most trustworthy professional go to. Most of the time, she'll try to solve her problems on her own, but if she is unable to, she knows exactly who to turn to. She can always count on her Night Nurse.

#ha ha ha OUCH :( #the last bit is her about to be replaced by That Fkin Skrull 😤 #love and stan linda tho #truly a rock in both my jess and canon jess's life #with gerry and all #on the opposite note yet again FUCK jonathan drew 😤 #medical tw #abuse tw #hydra tw #fkin SKRULL tw #( c h . s t u d y . ) #( h e a d c a n o n . ) #( j e s s i c a & l i n d a // n i g h t n u r s c . )

[anonbeadraws]

Prompt: Magical Creatures! An adventurer who retired to take care of the "monstrous" creatures their fellows maimed and harmed, rehabilitating them and helping them back into the wilds. She's gotten a few scars and lost an eye to the work but she holds no grudges! She loves these lovely creatures! Her nieces that're here for the weekend to visit their...eccentric aunt are a little split on how to feel about the whole thing. Commission info in the source!

#anonbeadraws #digital #digital art #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #hydra #tw snake #digital artist #magical #illustration #artwork #drawing #art by op

[stuckyfingers]

Желание

Inspired by that Tumblr post about (not) imagining Bucky screaming out for Steve while being tortured.

#Stucky #Bucky #Tw torture #High contrast #Winter soldier #Hydra #Fanart #Marvel #Stucky fanart #Bucky Barnes

[muzzleroars]

Lucifer, as the Old Dragon

Lucifer, and all of his angels with him, had been punished by God to exist as a mindless, writhing mass with the bodies of those that survived melded with the corpses of so many that died on impact. Only Lucifer remained fully conscious and aware of himself, tortured by their fate and all the pain of the bodies he was now attached to. Seeing the divine but formless mass, Hell was enchanted - in particular, it saw the beauty of Lucifer as its shining core, so radiant even in ashes, and so it made a body for him, for them. The first work coming as an unknowing collaboration between God and Hell, it crafted Lucifer into a great serpentine form - his halo it repurposed as a face, building up oil-slick skin and displaying Lucifer as its centerpiece in great joy. It grew into them, the walls and brutally frozen lake of Cocytus trapping them all as much as Michael's chains and lodged spear, while its own mass mingled with the bodies of angels. The remains of those lost now bleed eternally from its belly, failing to revive despite Hell's best efforts.

#lucifer #ultrakill oc #FINALLY.....got this done.... #this is how i would 'canonically' see lucifer #guy does not move freely and won't until he's released #but i have an ask coming up where i wrote a million words about that so. here he is for now!! #OH and the set of heads at the base of their neck is 100% based on the smt satan design #i wanted the multiple heads he's described with in revelation #but a hydra look wasn't working and i love that satan design so!! #doodle tag #body horror tw #say hi to the bad scribble of v1 for scale lol #rise and fall au

[buckets-and-trees]

Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows Title: Let All Light Go Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.  

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#steve rogers x reader #captain hydra x reader #steve rogers smut #dark steve rogers x reader #the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr's writing event #aspen's dark forest fest #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #aspen wrote something #warm shadows au #tw: dubcon

[bleedingichorhearts]

Imagine trying to survive having that train of four absolute studs run on you.

That is to say, I think you'd need major aftercare after a gray knight and three alpha legion.

𝕽𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕬𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: You, you are something else. This my first attempt writing with multiple characters at once, let’s see how this goes. No official name for the warband/group yet.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Having one on you was one thing, having four was another.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: Idk, I just write, lol.

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself. Has not been proofread.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Filthy, Cursing.

Walking along the dirt trail, the smell of wet pine and dirt evaded my senses. Calming my tense nerves of today.

Everything seemed different today. Not just because of the dark clouds rolling in, but because of how different the Astarte's looked to be. They were more... uptight, cranky even if I wasn't around, it confused me. It wasn't like them for them to be so, abrasive.

Whatever they were conflicting about had got me on edge because I did not want to see another house torn down again, but who's to say something to an almost 7-foot tall, armored Astartes, who can possibly throw you more than 100 yards? No one really, well... maybe a mother or a crackhead.

Nevertheless, I didn't want to be there if a full out brawl happened at the house. I didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. So, I've managed to sneak pass their senses while they were too busy sizing each other up or at least, I thought I did.

Hydra wasn't even paying attention to the argument at hand. He was more focused on someone far more interesting than this petty argument. Someone who is trying to slip under their radar, undetected. This was his chance.

He moved forward, sneaking away from the warband, leaving his brethren to the Knight where he went to the tree line their little serpent disappeared to. Her scent clinging to the flora there, his instincts going haywire.

He didn’t hesitate to pursued her scent quickly with his mind yelling at him. Knowing if those dark clouds rolled in, they would cover her scent and he'll have to wait for it to pass and that's something he's not fond of.

The trees moved with the wind that came with the dark clouds. Tiny rain drops falling from the darkened sky, hitting my coat. The smell of the rain enhancing the smell of pine, it made the area feel nostalgic.

It was cold, but it felt nice to be away from the Astartes for a while, even in this weather. It might have not been a good idea, but you take what you can right? Since when was the last time, I had time by myself without the eyes of the Astartes?

Stopping underneath a tree, I looked up to the sky. Watching how the dark clouds moved slowly above, yet the branches were quick like the rain drops that hit my face. It wasn't pouring just yet, but it will be very soon as a rumbled shook within the clouds.

Snap!

I crouched down at the unexpected noise, barely feeling a gauntlet of an Astartes that touched the collar of my coat. My heart jumping in my chest at the suddenness.

The wind whipped in my ears when I turned to look at the Astartes. His form crouching and angry looking. His red visor glowing perfectly against the darkening sky. The rain becoming more quicker and harsher than it was.

My heart thumped in my ears louder than the thunder. Thoughts racing on my predicament. Were they angry at me for leaving them? Did they have pent up anger? What made them seem so angry?

Though, I was glad that I had a few run ins with Solor to be able to evade at least some of the basic moves they had, but this was an Alpha Legion, they had all sorts of tricks up their sleeves. They were unpredictable.

He rushed forward and I took off, not wasting any time to avoid the Astartes. Knowing just how fast they could be by personal experience.

I didn't know who it was chasing me. It could be any of the Hydras, but the sky had gotten darker with each minute, with each breath. It was getting harder to see, to identify who exactly it was. Which, in some way makes it thrilling.

There was something about it. Having an Astartes chasing you down within the forest while you know they are much bigger, better, and faster than you. That Astartes can track you down like no other human can. It brought a fluttery feeling to my stomach as I thought about it.

The sky rumbled as I took a sudden sharp turn. My body heating up despite the rain pelting down on me. I heard the Astartes behind me running into the tree for how fast they were. A loud snap echoed off through the sound of the rain. A low growl left their helmet, not expecting that move.

Zigzagging between the trees, slowing him down when he got too close for my nerves. I made sure to keep low to the ground. The soaked flora around me whipping against my own wet face.

Barely hearing a frustrated growl, I spotted a building up head through the heavy rain. It’s blocky shadow lit up from the streetlights just outside of it. Thinking if I made it there, I could get a moment of rest before going off again.

Heading for the building. I nearly made it, but slipped on the muddy ground as the Astartes gauntlets picked me up by the waist. Making me realize just how close he really was. I wouldn’t even have to time to rest there.

His body turned to take the impacting into the building, breaking the wall open. Both of us landing onto the ground with a loud crash. Some sparks going off between armor and cement.

Dazed, and breathless. I needed a moment to recover from the run while the blue Astartes switched spots. His armored form now hovering above me as I turned my body around, ready to crawl my way out from underneath the Alpha Legion.

A hiss sounded off, then multiple clunks of an object bounced off to my side. Looking over, it was the Astartes helmet.

“Hydra?” I questioned the Astartes behind me. Unsure if it was the right Legionnaire. His arms wrapping around my form and dragging me back flush underneath him. Body curling over mine just to whine into my shoulder.

Confusion wrapped my mind as I thought the Astartes were mad at me. They were staying far away from one another hissing, arguing in their own language. Sometimes trying to start fights with one another.

Another clunk sounded off. A gauntlet sliding down my waist before resting just above my core. A sudden heat, twitching beneath me.

Oh?

Oh.

The realization struck me, my stomach doing flips while I clenched around nothing. His gauntlet taking a part of my pants and ripping it off with ease. A pleased purr leaving him as he slowly dragged himself lower and lower.

“Wait, wait, I don’t think I can-” I gasped and clenched my teeth. A whine leaving me as I tried to move away from the painful stretch of him, but his arm; that wrapping around me kept me in place. A warm coo tickling my ear.

He would have eaten her out first. To taste what sweets she had to give, but she smelled so good. Her arousal and scent clouding his heightened senses strongly, getting him dazed off of her.

He wanted to push in more, but he knows just how small their little serpent is. Her walls already fluttering around him, gripping at him like a vice, making him groan.

He curled up as much as he could around his little serpent. His head nuzzling into her face, as his hips grinded down into her tight walls. Another whimper leaving her.

“Hydra.” She called his name. Her body quivering beneath him. Her hand coming forward to grab onto his gauntlet that held him above from crushing her. Pushing her body backwards in him, and just like that, he was a goner.

He rutted up into her, a cry leaving her as she clutched onto his gauntlet. Her walls clenching around him while he snarled out. Desperate to give her what she wanted. Desperate to breed her.

His other arm; still wrapped around her, kept her in place as his pace got faster, and faster. He could feel the bulge he created from just being inside of her. He could feel her submitting to him with each thrust, her body tensing up.

That’s it, little serpent. Cum for me.

She cried out underneath him, clawing at anything she can get a grip on. His armored chest rumbling against her back with his own moan. His teeth nibbling on her shoulder.

He felt her twitch beneath him as his seed stained her walls. His hips slowly gridding into her for a more hopeful effect. Slowly working himself up to pull another one.

“Little serpent?” The voice of Asclepius called out. Hydra snarling out until he realized it was just his brethren. Hips still grinding as he chittered to his brother. Telling him just how yielding their little serpent was being. They could have done this a long time ago.

“Brother, give her sometime to recover.” Asclepius reminded his brother. A whine coming out of him, then a chuff. “She won’t be able to.”

A whine left me as I felt Hydra move, feeling suddenly empty before I was gently pushed over on my back. The cold ground sending a shiver up my heated skin.

“There you are, Little serpent.” Asclepius purred. His armored form keeling down between my legs. His gauntlet slowly dragging against my thighs, slowly tearing off the rest of my clothes.

“A-Asclepius?” I called out. Confused on when he got here or maybe he was watching?

“Yes, little serpent? Think you can take another?” He asked, picking up my leg and throwing it over his shoulder. A groan coming out of his mouth as he exhaled. The scent of her driving him crazy. “Oh, I think you can, little serpent. You smell so good.”

He gave a singular lick to her thigh, tasting her, and hydras arousal on the inside of her thighs. Her cute little whimpers making him all to eager she shove her down on him as well while he lined himself up and slowly pushed himself in. The length of him brushing up in all the right places in side of her gummy walls.

“Hydra.” She called out to the Astartes in front of him, reaching out for his brother. Not bothering to acknowledge that he was pleasuring himself with his own hand as he came forward, kneeling in front of her.

She grabbed ahold of his armor, and tugged his form closer. A high pitched moan coming from her as she tensed up. Shuting herself up by giving Hydra a sloppy kiss. A rumbling purr going through him.

"Already? Come on my litter serpent, you can give me one more, please?" He groaned and begged. His form leaning over hers. His teeth nibbling on her neck as she moaned into Hydras’ mouth.

“I-I don’t kno-” She tried to speak, but got shushed by Hydra. His skillful tounge, and his thrusting inside of her not helping her thinking process at all.

“Come on, little serpent.” He said, his pace picking up at the thought of climaxing with her to ensure probability. His gauntlet squeezing her thigh.

A silent cry fell into Hydras mouth. Hydras seed staining the front side of her body while his recoated inside of her. His hips gridding into her just like Hydra did.

Nearly plopping to the ground, if it weren’t for Hydra to catch me. My legs were numb, and started to get sore as he lifted me up bridal style in his arms, and placed me on a nearby surface. Soft purring coming from both the hydras before it was replaced by a much deeper rumble.

“I believe, it is my turn then?” They asked. The two hydras backing off slightly, growling out in dissatisfaction.

“It’s only…fair.” Asclepius responded. A deep hum coming from the voice who I barely recognized as Solor.

"Oh, little maiden." He purred out. His gauntlets settling on my hips, practically covering them. “How far did you think you could go?”

I whined. Sh*t, f*ck. I don’t think I can handle him.

“No matter, I’ll always find you.” He cooed, taking off his codpiece. Lining himself up.

"You smell like them. I don't like that." He stated, getting some disapproving growls. "Let's change that, little maiden."

Her back arched up in shock. Mouth dropping open in a silent cry. Legs desperately trying to close around him in attempt to push him away.

Solor growled out, pushing himself in more. Winding her to the surface. Tears staining her cheeks as she managed to let out a whimper.

Solor cursed in his language. Thrusting deep, and hard inside of her. Each one giving her stars in her eyes.

“S-Solor, please.” She begged, receiving an angered growl in return.

“Who are you, to run from me?” He snarled. His hips snapping up, getting a loud cry. “To run off like that?”

Her body shook around him. Another cry coming from her mouth as her body twitched around him. Her vision fading black as worried coos echoing out around her.

“Yes, they we go my little maiden.”

-

Waking back up was not pleasant. Everything hurt. A single move I’ve made against the soft blankets of the bed made me ache. A pitiful whine leaving me.

Gentle hands pulled me into a chest. A chuff of hot breath on top of my head as deep purrs soothed my pulsing brain. His hands dragging up and down my numbed out legs.

Trying my best to return the much more soft gesture. I could only nuzzle myself underneath Leviathans chin; recognizing him from his longing purrs alone.

I whined at him feeling him gently as he could slid himself inside of me. His girth giving me a stretch, but his deep purrs were soothing.

"Please, be gentle." I whined at him, getting a soft coo in response. His hips slowly thrusting into mine. Soft moans heating up his neck while I nibbled a little. Earning a teasing, but slow thrust.

I softly called his name, feeling that build up once again. Arms trying to wrap around the giant in front of me in order to stabilize myself as I approached my high. Feeling how his seed filled me.

We didn’t move from one another. Simply basking in the afterglow the session had provided. His hands gently tracing all around my body. Avoiding specific areas that were bruised until eventually I feel back asleep.

-

Aftercare was a completely different session.

Leviathan took me to the bathroom. His arms settling me down softly into the bubble bath with him sliding right behind me. His purrs creating vibrations through it making me laugh at it. His head nuzzling the top of my head.

Asclepius took care of me afterwards, bandaging anything up they might have caused last night. Providing kisses here and there to sooth my pain when in reality he felt bad for causing such damage.

Hydra provided some food and water. Making sure I ate after the heavy sessions, but luckily enough he didn’t provide raw meat either.

Last was Solor. He came in at the end of the day. Slowly coming in through the bedroom door before crawling onto the bed. His forehead touching mine in a silent apology before he completely laid his head down on my chest, nuzzling into it. My hands slowly threading through his hair.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #yandere space marine #x reader #yandere #fanfic #fanfiction #oc: hydra #oc: leviathan #oc: asclepius #alpha legion #oc: solor #gray knight #tw: smut #to much pov switching? #mating press March #get fed lol #oneshot #adeptus astartes #astartes x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #ask

[hushed-hydra]

Bo En - My Time Old art I drew with a mouse

#omori #omori fanart #hydra art #omori sunny #tw knife #omori is pretty good you should play it #art

[bucknastysbabe]

Kink Bingo - Praise Kink

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1, 765

Tags: Dead dove, WHUMP?, Hydra Trash Party, Mentioned rape, Dub-con, confused WS murder meow meow, hydra!handler!reader, praise kink, touch starved Buck, hand jobs, He’s Just Super Sensitive Blame The Serum, crying what’s new, she loves him in the worst way possible

A/N: I haven’t really written something dark like this in awhile so WARNING! The one Russian translation is thanks commander. Poor Bucky but he gets petted and praised by an insane Soviet for a little bit. Subtle Steeb reference at the end. Listened to gimme danger the entire time.

You leaned back in the stiff leather chair, waiting for your delivery. Strike team was bringing the asset to your office at some point. Your mouth pinched at the thought— they played too rough with the poor thing. Soldat was the fist of Hydra, not a common whore. You didn’t like the Americans very much, but Karpov had sent you along with the asset to get adjusted to being under Alexander Pierce’s control.

So you handled your precious boy until the Americans grew tired of you. They’d already beaten the little life the asset had left into a pulp. He was even more quiet and confused than in Siberia. You’d give him some peace before being discarded, hopefully by the greatest creation of Hydra.

The door opened, the young agent Rumlow shoving the asset inside with an irritated noise. You raised a brow at Soldat’s state— bloodied and bruised moreso than the average mission. Rumlow barked, “He didn’t listen, stupid fuck needs to get wiped again. Got punished, so stop looking at me like that Komandir.”

“Fuck off,” you hissed.

Rumlow slammed the door with a scoff. Your precious soldat stumbled forward dazedly. He knew the drill even between countless wipes, come report to the handler after a mission. Soldat limped forward and kneeled between your legs, wide blues looking up blankly. His nose was bruised, one of his eyes bloodshot and blackened.

You frowned and carded a gentle hand through his thick brown locks, sighing softly. His jaw twitched, throat bobbed. You stated, “Status report.”

His robotic reply came quickly, “Fractured left orbital, nasal fracture, broken anterior ribs nine and ten. Palatal Petechiae, anal fissure.”

You almost hissed at the last part. The strike team was a bunch of mongrel deviants, using the asset to sate their primal urges. With a coo you placed both hands on his cheeks, carefully thumbing over his black eye.

“Baby, poor baby,” you simpered. His wide eyes searched your face, glassing over with tears. You lied, “Those strike team boys are dogs. You’re just so pretty they can’t help themselves.” Soldat whined sadly through his swollen nose, guilty gaze flicking to the ground.

“I didn’t listen- I- I need maintenance,” he said.

He thought he deserved it. He probably didn’t, they just searched for ways to inflict torture. Nasty American pigs. You would make soldat feel better in the meantime. He loved praise and petting, baby was so touch starved. Vasily had taught you that about the asset. Said it makes him more obedient in close quarters because he gets so overstimulated and needy.

“Soldier,” you sweetly said, “You’ll get your maintenance soon. Let your handler take care of her precious star.”

You moved your hands to gently scratch at his scalp, frowning at the pieces that were obviously ripped out using force. You murmured, “How did they use you?” Soldat had to open his hazy eyes, almost purring at your ministrations.

“They used my anus and throat. Multiple members of Strike team Alpha,” he rasped oh-so-quiet. You bit back another hiss, focusing on untangling his dark locks.

You liked the way his English sounded. Your accent was thick and guttural. The asset’s English was soft-spoken, lilting, pretty. You knew it was his native tongue long ago. Pierce told you to stop speaking Russian with Soldat, who currently leaned into your touch, quivering muscles settling down. His injuries would be slowly knitting up— the bruises would be a couple of days, the broken bones a couple more.

Soldat was perfect like that. You ordered, “Just relax precious, if you can.” He nodded obediently, stable hands clasped behind. You worked on the multiple buckles and zips caging in his finely tuned body. Soldat’s titanium arm clicked and clacked in the quiet room, the only noise besides the hum of the A/C.

You peeled off the tight leather from his torso, sucking in a breath at the bruising. You sighed again, “My poor baby, they did a number hm?” He nodded slowly, lips trembling. You rubbed at the knots in his thick shoulders, the asset moaning softly. He never got very loud, but the cries and sniffles when he came were divine.

“Such a pretty angel baby, I know you did great, you always do.”

He vaguely nodded, a half-assed jerk of his pretty jaw. The soldier whimpered, “C-commander please.” His swollen red lips still pouted and shook, sobs threatening to rip out of his sore throat. You purred, “Do you want a reward soldier? Sweet baby.”

“Mhm,” he croaked.

You eyed his peaked nipples and straining bulge in his cargo pants. He had a pretty cock, flushed and thick, just huge, like the rest of him. You unbuckled his belt easily, sliding the pants down strong thighs. They even quivered under your attentions. You couldn’t help the quirk of your lips at soldat gasping when his swollen cock slapped his toned stomach.

You pressed soft kisses to his neck and jaw, wandering hands paying mind to the broken parts of his body. Awkwardly you ushered the naked asset up, leading him forward to sit on your desk. His thighs tantalizingly spread out when he sat down with a wince. You apologized, “So sorry sweet boy, I’ll make it better then you’ll get some rest.”

“спасибо командир,” he murmured.

You chided, lips ghosting over his own, “No Russian, remember baby? I know the Americans are confusing.”

His lips puckered eagerly, waiting for a kiss. You closed the distance, winding a hand into his long locks. You rubbed soothing circles while sharing his lips in slowed smacks. The asset liked everything slow, you figured it kept him relaxed. Nothing like the jackhammering cocks of the disgusting strike team.

He whined happily into your mouth, arching into your body. You smiled, sweet thing wanted his tits touched but wouldn’t dare to ask. So you did it for him, “You want me to play with your tits baby? My needy star.” He nodded frantically, chasing your lips to crash back against his.

You slid the hand from his hair and hip to rub wide circles on his built pecs.

Then you ran your thumbs in tight motions on his dusky nubs, so fucking gentle like your super-soldier pet would break. You knew he would if he could. The asset shivered, a thin whine of ‘commandeeerrr’ elicited instead. You clenched your thighs to dull the ache. You never fucked the asset. Just played with him until he got his sweet release.

You weren’t like the thugs here taking and taking. Soldat needed you like the oxygen in the air. He needed some sort of twisted love in his lonely life. You sucked on his tongue to abate the pang in your chest from the thought of abandoning your sweet boy.

Soldat’s arm shifted and whined in random intervals— signals just as overwhelmed as the rest of him. You kept up the assault on his nipples, the poor thing’s drool making your kiss grow sloppier and wetter. He mewled into the lazy movements, hands trembling. You murmured, “You can touch baby boy.”

You almost squeaked at the feeling of his big hands groping your ass. He tried to be gentle but soldat rarely knew his own strength. You’d cherish the usual mottling of your skin afterward. He brokenly panted, “Commander, feels…s’good. Thank you.” His dark lashes fluttered when you pinched his now swollen peaks, full lips hanging wide open in ecstasy.

“No need to thank me precious, I know my perfect boy needs it. Do you want me to play with your pretty cock?”

He let out a mournful noise— huge arms pulling you even closer. Soldat would probably latch onto you like a puppy if he didn’t have orders. He pled, “Will you, pl-please please.” The asset flushed and winced, expecting a slap for asking questions. You pressed your lips to his slick mouth and hummed, “I’ve got you, my star has such manners.”

You pulled back, his brows furrowing in distress at the absence of your mouth. You let your collected drool drip into your palm and wrapped it around engorged flesh. He cried out and bit down to stop the noise.

“Don’t hide your sweet sounds from me, I want to hear my precious boy.”

A choppy exhale of breath was your answer. He squirmed and sniffled as you methodically fucked your fist on his cock. Slow, slow, a rough twist on the head and your prize was trembling like a virgin. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, puffing hot breath on the thin cloth of your top. The asset babbled random words in different languages interspersed with the most breathtaking little sobs.

You slid your thumb around the extra sensitive frenulum, the sweet thing sniffling and wetting your shoulder with tears. He tried to speak, “K-Ko- hah, haaah, mmh, fuck!” Your other hand— once tight in his perfect hair slid down to cup his overfull sac. You squeezed at the heated flesh. Soldat muffled his wail, hands scrabbling at your body.

His back was painfully arched, you ordering him to relax some. He did with a pitiful mewl, soaking more tears into your turtleneck. You grinned at the tell-tale little sobs. He’d get so pitchy you felt bad for your simple little weapon, his throat probably hurt even more from the high sounds. You husked in his ear, “That’s it my good boy, singing so pretty for your commander, you needed it baby.”

He was rutting into your fist with abandon, the left arm going off with buzzing signals. You dug your thumb into his weeping slit, guided a gentle finger holding his balls to that loose skin behind. You pressed up and gasped when Soldat almost crushed you with his arms, shaking and coming apart at the seams. The asset couldn’t catch his breath, aborted tiny cries leaving his swollen throat.

He wept openly now— flushed member shooting rope after rope of white cum. He stained your already ruined top and flooded your fist. You pumped Soldat through the climax until he mewled and shied away. He seized your lips again passionately, pouring singleminded need into the action. You kissed the perfect asset back, pressing your tits against his broad chest. You wanted to steal him away in the moment, leave with the priceless thing and start anew somewhere.

But that wouldn’t happen. He’d realize you’re just as tainted as the rest of Hydra and probably kill you as his brain inevitably cleared up. So you’d enjoy your pliant, perfect toy for now. You mumbled against insistent lips, “Baby did so good, Commander loves you. Precious star.” He teared up again— not sure where he remembered another voice telling the asset that he was loved.

#READ THE TAGS AND TW #PLS #dead dove do not eat #whump #hydra reader #winter soldier bucky #bucky is touch starved #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #hydra trash party #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #kink bingo

[ace-bucket]

Buckytober Day 6: Poison

Buckytober Prompt List

#kind of interpreted the ‘poison’ being the serum bucky was given when experimented on by hydra #but they probably gave him all sorts of harmful stuff so it could be interpreted something else too #really wanted to capture that sickly green lighting in the room steve finds him in #bucky barnes #buckytober chaos #marvel fanart #marvel #tw needles #tw injections #my art

[vviolynn]

A Difference

a/n - I had a random boost of inspiration and I’ve been wanting to post something for the longest time… so I’m just gonna say that I wrote this small bit within a span of like 2 days but less than an hour each time I came back to it. I hope this gives you guys an idea of what my writing is like, and ty in advance for reading <3 {ps - the fic I'm working on outside of this isn't as detailed as this... i just poured my creativity on this one, especially because it's way shorter.}

word count - 1.1k

• the winter soldier x hydra soldier!fem!reader •

warnings - mentions of killing and assassins, no use of y/n, the winter soldier being the winter soldier, angst?, use of russian words(translation given), no real romance... yet, ends with a cliffhanger of sorts

•••••••••••••••••••••

A soldier, or two? One super, one ordinary. One chose, one forced. One assassin. Two assassins. One woman, one machine. Two lives, paths crossed in a horrifying way. A killer, a killing machine. A life spent, a life taken. One free, one brainwashed. One skilled, one programmed. Two eyes met, two souls connected. One soldier, two soldiers.

She’s a soldier, ordinary, human. She chose her place. She chose Hydra. She grew up with one of their leaders. She chose this life. She chose when she was a young woman. She’s spent your life working for Hydra, willingly. She had the option to leave, yet she remained loyal. Hydra was a home to her. Hydra is a home to a strong willed woman. She spent her childhood and opening of womanhood training for the day she’d live her dream: to fight for her country. She’s skilled. 

And yet… another life is placed into hers. The moment that second life awoke, eyes met, locked. For the first time, she wanted more than to serve Hydra. The eyes she met were the eyes of a programmed soul. He wasn’t free. He was brainwashed. His life wasn’t spent, it was taken. Years of his life, asleep, years of his life, stolen. A killing machine. That’s what he was. He was one made to kill, programmed for murder. It was a thought that could bring shivers down one’s spine. A machine, they say. He belonged to Hydra, and Hydra made him. It felt cruel. He was only the assassin they made him to be, how could there be a human behind that cold gaze? Forced… he was forced, and it was wrong. She could see it, even after your years spent with Hydra, she’s never witnessed such a thing. A super soldier? She would’ve killed to be like him. 

That’s the thing, she would’ve killed to be like him. The problem was, she’s not him. Two soldiers, but there’s still a difference. A manner of choice. He was not given that choice. She could only wonder why. 

•••••••••••••••••••••

Behind the facade, there was always a softness. 

“Good morning soldat,” she greets him with a stern voice, but beneath her tone is a form of gentleness. The Winter Soldier looks down at the woman with this icy blues, and similar to her tone, he too had a gentleness buried underneath his gaze. 

The soldier gives her a short nod as to address her, not speaking. She doesn’t appreciate his lack of words. 

“Apologies, I said… good morning soldat,” the respected woman speaks again, she emphasizes her tone to a slight harsher one. The soldier’s gaze remains the same, unfazed.

“Good morning уважаемый,” the soldier nods again, and refers to her as ‘respected one’. 

She gives him a nod back, seemingly satisfied with his reply. She almost smiles. She never smiles, at least not with other soldiers. Being in Hydra for a little over ten years gives her authority. Having grown up with one of the colonels put her as second in command. She has experience. 

She knows she should treat the soldier like he isn’t human, but he is. In her eyes, he’s a tortured soul. She can see it, she has the ability to see past the glare. Why? because she knows how to spot a difference. 

“Mission report,” she requests as she keeps her hands behind her back. Her head is tilted up in the slightest to keep eye contact. Their eyes lock, two soldiers. 

“Negative,” he replies, and it’s his turn to give her a firmer voice. Her eyebrows furrow with the way that he speaks to her, as well as his response. 

“On who’s orders?” the woman nearly growls. She always knew and was informed of the Winter Soldier’s missions. She usually asked only to report back to the colonel, it’s supposedly just a simple and daily task. It was also one of the only interactions she’d have with the fellow assassin. 

“Твой начальник,” the firm voice remains, it feels like his programming showing it’s hold on him. Her eyes narrow in a small glare at how he says ‘your superior(boss)’. Why would her friend be keeping the soldier’s mission a secret from her? 

Her voice is gone, stripped from her. She would never admit how vulnerable she feels right now. It created a storm within; a rage. The temptation to walk away and destroy everything in her path was strong. She stands her ground, glaring at the soldier in silence. 

The soldier finds her silent response amusing in a way. He continues to look right back at her, his eyes gleaming at the entertainment. 

The second in command knew she couldn’t be mad at the Winter Soldier, it was her ‘superior’, and her supposed childhood friend who was defying her. Acknowledging this allows her to calm down slowly, along with the beauty of the soldier’s eyes, the steel eyes that stuns any enemy he comes across. The soldier is an anchor to her, even though neither of them have acknowledged that yet. 

Her demeanor shifts, right before his eyes. She calms, and her breathing steadies. She’s been trained to keep her emotions in check, especially if she’s a superior to most soldiers in Hydra. Although she’d never admit it, his presence just makes it a whole lot easier. 

“I see,” her words finally form, and her voice comes out as quiet but strong. She wants to leave to go confront her ‘friend’ but there’s something that keeps her feet stuck to the ground. It’s almost like a magnetic pull. Her eyes haven’t left the soldiers for the whole duration of the conversation. Her body hasn’t moved an inch. Her hands haven’t left their hold on themselves behind her back. Besides her facial expressions, she hasn’t physically shifted in any way. 

There are several moments of silence, all that can be heard is their soft breaths, and blinking eyes. The atmosphere remains thick, heavy, and suffocating. Both observe how their breaths match each other’s, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. A safe distance is kept between the two soldiers, but it still feels like there isn’t enough. Either that, or there’s too much. Neither of them can tell which it is. 

They’re two magnets, and destiny is playing with them and their sides. It’s trying to decide whether to pull them apart, or pull them together. Stir hatred and disgust, and create distance? Or make it so once they touch, they can’t remove themselves from each other? An undying question. 

Neither their hearts nor minds could comprehend a choice. To hate or to love? It’s hard for the two soldiers, especially when there’s such a difference.

•••••••••••••••••••••

#the winter soldier #tws #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x fem!reader #the winter soldier x hydra soldier!fem!reader #the winter soldier angst #bucky barnes x reader #b.b. #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #j.b.b. #vviolynn writes #vviolynn fics

[the-girl-from-another-time]

Many of today’s most beloved superheroes were created by Jews, many of whom were children of European immigrants, during the height of Nazism in the 1930s-40s. They had relatives in Europe, they heard what was happening to their fellow Jews, and they used fiction to fight back.

During the Holocaust, Jewish men created Superman to be a champion of the oppressed and a hope for a better tomorrow. Captain America was created to be explicitly anti-Hitler and to encourage the USA’s entry into WWII. They are now some of the world’s most recognizable characters, and they’re the living legacy of Jewish creators who used art and storytelling to fight Nazism.

So, modern-day writers turning those characters into Nazis and totalitarian dictators is deeply disrespectful to the legacy of the Jewish creators who shaped the superhero comics industry.

#yes this is specifically about cap being hydra and superman being a villain in stuff like injustice #dc #marvel #dcu #dc comics #superman #clark kent #captain america #steve rogers #golden age comics #joe shuster #jerry siegel #jack kirby #wwii #tw antisemitism #injustice gods among us #comics history

[winter-angst]

[after a long day at the mall]

Brock: I want Starbucks 🥰

Jack: sounds like a you problem

Brock: I will kms right here in your car

Jack: what?

Brock: who will have a problem then, mf 😡

#hydra husbands #brock rumlow #jack rollins #incorrect quotes #tw: suicide

[stuckyfingers]

Poll Result #2: Bleeding Bucky

"The Asset no longer responds to the baton."

#polls #team cap #team cap fanart #Bucky Barnes #Hydra Trash Party #stucky #art #winter soldier #brock rumlow #mcu #tw blood #blood tw #tw violence #tw torture

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Besides Abraham Erskine's unexpected death, I know that Howard Stark is an unextremely unlikable character, but even I think Peggy had something to do with his and Maria's deaths. AND the people who are most suspicious about Hydra are also assassinated or almost assassinated (Daniel Sousa, Nick Fury). Meanwhile, Peggy gets away scott free. Ummm... Peggy is DEFINITELY meant to be Madame Hydra. If we only got the Serpent Society movie instead of Civil War 😐 She really killed a lot of people just to accomplish her goals..

My headcanon about Howard and Maria is that Hydra was undergoing an internal power-struggle surrounding the dissolution of the Soviet Union (as if it was previously one org with two separate branches about to become one big global org). And Stark had successfully replicated superserum and put Zola's mind on tape (the real brain of the outfit) ...perhaps meaning he had outlived his own usefulness to Hydra.

So someone ordered the Starks got rid of to open up room at the top in 1991 -- either Peggy or SHIELD's Head of Defense, Mitchell Carson (shown alongside her and Stark in 1989, in Ant Man, when Howard clearly disliked him... so she must have hired him!) .

(Side headcanon: Maria Stark was a chemist who actually replicated the serum for SHIELDra, but in typical Stark style Howard took all the credit.)

By this time, they said in AOS that Pierce was Undersecretary of the World Security Council and doing SHIELDra things (transparently as a way to try and make Peggy sound non-culpable.)

But instead AOS showed Peggy was definitely leading SHIELDra the same year SS Officer and torturer Werner Reinhardt got released, and apparently did nothing to stop that. 🤦‍♀️

(So Stark's dead by 1992.

Peggy gets to retire in suspicious peace. Which is funny cuz her own show said "a boring life is a privilege." 🤔

By 1995 there was a SHIELDra "cognitive research facility" called the North Institute in Ohio, with Winter Soldier mind-control tech research there.

Which we know cuz Nat's "family" stole it for use mind-controlling Black Widows.

And meanwhile, Nick Fury was still a lowly SHIELD agent under new SHIELD Director Keller, bumping into Skrulls and such).

But yeah Peggy's soo Margaret Thatcher coded and Atwell has aaall the arrogance to pull off a villain. It would've been perfect!

#antihoward #antipeggy #SHIELDra founders #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #antisteggy #cynthia glass #p*ggy meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #mcu meta #headcanon #tws mind control #history of shieldra #my meta

[kerberosstyxnixcharonandhydra]

MY BOSS WON'T LET ME WEAR MY SKIN JACKET!!!!

this is the only thing Cosmo isn't ok with btw. Like??? there is so much other stuff going on in USC my guy and the skin jacket is the hill you're gonna die on?

anyways hydra made this a while ago before they were hired, and they love it so much it's the worst. it's so bloody despite numerous cleanings and they keep trying to convince people they like to wear it.

#toontown #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #corporate clash #satellite investors #hydra #hydra has so many problems in USC and most of them could be removed if they either had different parents or USC had a nicer author #<- not even joking im so sorry kid. its for the bit though #and YES fine they are wearing a diaper cog biology does allow for incontinence due to organ damage (coolant tank) #and they got beaten up a lot as a kid/teen to the point the metal is warped and has no structural integrity. #be nice to them or they're going to lengthen that coat. #tw blood #cw blood

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖘

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I guess, don’t deny the affection?? Might be a little fast paced? I don’t know.

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be responsible for/of yourself.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams

TW // Smut/NSFW, Cursing.

Streaming had gotten my attention a lot more lately. The urge to play some games’s for two weeks was strong.

The “game’s” just being Minecraft. I have already went through the Nether portal, now I just needed to find some netherite to make better armor and tools.

“Did we pass the fortress?” I asked the chat, seeing a lot of ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ That didn’t help me out much. “I’ll just keep going, no worries. If we find another one, that’s great too.”

Firing arrows at some Ghasts. I picked up their tears as I made my way around the map. Knowing I could use them for potions later on.

Hearing my door open, I didn’t acknowledge who came through it. To focused on the Ghasts that keep trying to kill me with their fireballs.

Though, I was glad I wasn’t playing with the Face-cam today as I caught glimpse of the blue of Hydras armor being set quietly down on the ground.

Taking notice the second time. I gave Hydra a quick glance. Taking note of him kneeling to the ground next to my chair.

Hello, My little Serpent.

“Hold on chat, I think my internet is acting up.” I half-lied as the screen did have a huge lag spike. Pausing the game, and muting the mic.

Turing in my chair, I gave Hydra my attention. His hands placing themselves on my thighs, slowly rubbing up, and down on the fabric of my pants with his fingers before gripping them and pulling me closer to him. A huff coming from him.

Pay attention to me. I need you.

“Whoa, was that not close enough for you?” I asked him, my nerves buzzing. Getting a little desperate to get back to my gaming.

He rumbled lowly, not liking that response. Pulling his head back to look at me, his electric blue eyes never failing to pull me in. Yet he did not look happy.

Oh? Little Serpent…

“What?” I questioned him. Not liking his look of sternness. “Do you want something?”

Another low rumble, his hands squeezed at my thighs, pulling at the fabric of the pants.

This is how you wanna play?

“Sorry chat, this is going to continue another day, something came up.” I said a little annoyed, taking off my headset, and ending the stream with a proper goodbye.

Turning my attention back to Hydra. The sound of fabric ripping caught me by surprise, my chair jerking back. While I watched just how quickly Hydra ripped through my pants, and underwear.

I can play too.

In a small state of surprise, I didn’t register how Hydra pulled me back to him. How his head now nestled between my legs. Lips sucking, and tongue lapping at my core like a starved animal.

“Hydra…” I whined, body trying to curl up on him. Legs trying to close around his head.

A growl rumbled out of his throat. The vibration sending pleasure through me as he pulled back, his eyes looking up at me in an almost threatening manner.

Oh no you don’t.

His hands pried open my legs with ease. His tongue licking at his lips, and teeth. I didn’t know whether to be aroused, or alarmed at such an hungry gaze. Maybe both?

His head leaned back into my core. His hands wrapping around my thighs while he brought me closer to him. Keeping me snuggly in place while his nose brushed perfectly up against my bud as I grinded on his face. Chasing that high.

Let me taste you.

A moan from him rattled my nerves hard. My own moan following as my back arched, clenching around his tongue. My legs wrapping around the back of his head as I climaxed. His tongue lapping, and slurping up anything I gave him.

“F*ck, H-Hydra, please.” I begged. Hand coming down to try and stop him from eating me out two times in a row.

Another growl ripped through his throat sending another shock of pleasure through me, freezing up my attempts. My hips grinding back up in his face. My god, did I really what him to stop?

Come on, give me another one. Let me feast on your sweet essence. Let me drink from you.

Licking my lips, breathless moans fell from them. Hands gripping tightly into the leather of the chair. That same cord becoming tighter, and tighter the more his tongue thrusted his inside of me.

With a cry, I saw stars as my body tensed up at the climax before going limp within his hold. My own heart beating in my ears.

“F-f*ck me.” I breathlessly mumbled. Lightly feeling myself being lifted, and put down on the much colder ground.

Planing to my little serpent.

“I-I don’t think I can.” I whined, my hand coming up to Hydas chest as he lined himself up. A purr coming from him.

You can my serpent.

A surprised noise left my mouth. Hands immediately scrabbling up to claw at Hydras body as he slowly pushed in, an groan leaving him.

He started off with a slow thrust. Leaving me breathless with each, heavy stroke. I couldn’t help but give him little love bites myself. The taste of his skin addicting with his aquatic scent engulfing my senses. His hips jerked upward, a moan leaving him this time.

“F*ck, Hydra.” I moaned into his skin as he reached that particular spot inside of me. His hips suddenly adjusting.

Call for me. Call for me again, little serpent.

“Hydra!” I cried out, his pace not as slow as before. His c*ck dragging in all the right places, oh so deliciously. “Oh! F*ck!”

“Please Hydra!” I begged, tears falling down my cheeks. The buildup was too much! His pace too fast! It was too hot!

Oh, I’m going to devour you. I’m gonna f*ck you till you can’t walk. Till you can’t scream anything, but my name. I’m gonna—

A snarl left his lips while I gave out an silent cry. Black stars clouding my vision as heavy euphoria overwhelmed me. My back arching up into Hydra before falling limp underneath him.

Hydra pulled out after a couple lazy thrusts. His form leaning up backwards, his hand dragging up, and down her leg.

The sight of his little serpent. His little mate. Full with his seed inside of her made him groan at the thought of just f*cking it back into her f*ckedout form.

Oh, my little serpent. You’re going to hope you don’t have anything you have to do this week.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #fanfic #x reader #yandere #yandere space marine #fanfiction #oc: hydra #tw: smut #oneshot #adeptus astartes #astartes x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #ask