Insidious.
He breaks you down just to own you and you've never been happier.
soldier boy x female reader, filthy smut. minors dni.
themes: not gonna lie this is really dark, age gap, objectification, degradation, mental manipulation, bimbofication, like really rough sex, oral (m recieving), anal, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, threesome.
→ It happens really by accident. You ask for his autograph and he signs his 8x10 with his phone number at the bottom. Your heart flutters when you see it and you are dazed by how good he looks in person. That effortless hairstyle, the incredibly well-maintained beard, his broad shoulders and piercing green eyes. It makes your teeth ache. He compliments your outfit and smiles warmly before he scribbles his number.
→ You wait a few days before you call him, but he remembers you instantly. He recalls that cute outfit and how lovely you were next to the old slobs that came to see him. He wants to take you on a date. You feel momentarily as if you can't breathe.
Ben brings you to his favorite restaurant and then to the beach. He gives you a soft, slow, hungry kiss that makes heat pool in your belly. He guides you back to the car. In the back seat, his hands slide to your ass and he asks if he can fuck you there.
You aren't sure why you say yes, but it seems so easy to agree with what he wanted. He spits in you for lube and groans when he sinks in to the hilt. Your arms shake as you hold yourself up. He holds your head down against the leather as his balls slap against your clit. "Shit… tighter than I expected…" he rasps as a compliment. It makes you glow.
→ You've been fucking Ben for a few months now. It should mean nothing, but you're also a mess. You like his approval. You adore the way he drops money in your lap and tells you to buy pretty things. You're also aware it shouldn't even be happening. You're half his age and too intuitive. You know better, but you can't stop yourself. This is quietly destroying you, but you like the way he makes you cum. You love the way he looks at you. You can't stop yourself.
Every time he comes back, he scratches that itch, and when he leaves, the absence is more profound. It becomes more difficult to ignore how much you miss the out-of-time soldier.
→ Ben loves to come over unannounced and expects you to drop everything when he arrives. One evening he comes over in the midst of a cram session and you're exhausted. Your hair is in a messy bun, not a stitch of makeup, and you have regret in your eyes when they meet his.
"You look like shit." He says it as if it is a personal insult to him.
"I'm studying right now, Ben. I have a lot-"
"I really don't care," he walks inside and allows his eyes to wander over your comfortable, oversized sweater and your leggings. He sighs in disappointment as he reaches over to at least yank your leggings up a bit to show the bulge of your lips pressing against the fabric. "Well, at least that's not sagging like your fucking mom energy. Go put on something pretty and lipstick, I can't fuck you like this."
You feel a sense of shame but you don't have a moment to process or protest. You go upstairs and change, because it's what Ben wants.
→ He writes his name across your stomach in your favorite, expensive lipstick. He pauses to paint your lips again. It's the same shade that's on the base of his dick. He smiles to himself as he slaps you across your face. "Now what should I write?"
"Whore? Slut? Cum dumpster?" You respond so easily with your arms suspended above your head. You dangle from the ceiling as a trickle of arousal drips down your thigh.
"Cum dumpster, that's my favorite." He smiles with delight. You look at him through a haze of pleasure and pain and consider how young and beautiful he is when he smiles.
→ One night, he mentions that he's bored of you. "I have plenty of whores that I can use. I have a rolodex of sluts that will come to me at any time of the day or night. They let me do whatever I want to them. One girl spent the day naked on my kitchen table, letting me eat off of her like she was a fucking dinner plate. What makes you so special?" He says all of this with his cock down your throat and his fingers pinching your nose. Your lips are starting to turn blue as you stare at him adoringly. You're so close to passing out and it's making his cock twitch.
When he finally lets your nose go and he pulls his cock free, you begin to sputter instantly. You spit out a large wad of phlegm right back onto his prick so a string of saliva connects your bottom lip to him. "I can be your plate, I can be your table, I can be your foot rest," you whisper, vaguely remembering how defiant you used to be in the face of men. What had Ben done to you?
"Jerk me off while you speak, otherwise I'm not paying attention." He sprawls back in his chair like a king in his throne. He's naked and his toned chest makes you want more. He spreads his legs apart and stares at you expectantly. You're happy to wrap your fingers around him and tease the tip. "Good girl."
→ After six months, he informs you that you're moving in. There is no discussion of it. It's clear that he needs you full time, not part time. He likes the way you keep his cock warm while he takes phone calls and how you let him fuck you hard against a wall when he's angry. He loves how you start crying when you're overstimulated and he especially loves the way you nearly have a seizure when you cum. He loves how stupid you get with his cock in your asshole and three fingers in your cunt as he stuffs you full. He wants that all the time and you're so happy.
→ He has rules, of course. You must greet him at the door on your knees with your mouth open. You will never wear underwear in his presence, or really ever again. You will wear only what he approves of. You will select your makeup according to the colors he likes, and any adventures must be approved by him. He watches you like a hawk. You must text him immediately when you leave and when you get back. He rewards you, stroking your hair and cheeks while tears run down your face. He orders you breakfast and starts to bring you towels to clean yourself up with instead of leaving you to do it yourself. It's so surprisingly sweet that you find yourself falling just a little more in love with him.
→ He doesn't just fuck you anymore. It's with intention. He snorts a few lines and throws back a bottle of whiskey to keep himself hard for longer. He wears a cock ring and cuffs you to the four-post bed. He pushes you into a mating press and buries himself to the hilt, hitting your cervix before you have time to adjust to him. He hammers you, unrelenting, grunting, moaning. He sticks his fingers down your throat to hear you gag and smacks your face to make you squeak and whimper. You find more often than not, when he gets like this, you lose track of how many times you cum. You just lie there shuddering and twitching under him.
"Another one? Fuck yeah, milk that cock you dumb cow." He chuckles as he grips your throat, enjoying the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head. He doesn't stop, he's there to prove something. That once tight, responsive, fluttering cunt is starting to soften around him. Every blow to your cervix makes you gasp and shiver. You slip away from the room and float above yourself, buzzing to the sound of his voice. Your pussy goes slack around him, simply open and eager for him to use it.
"That's what I want. Good girl, such a good fucking girl… look at that messed up cunt, you're just a hole for me, baby. You're my fleshlight, baby," he speaks to you with such adoration that you can feel it touch you through the fog. You're so happy that you can't stop smiling, even as you lie there like a ragdoll, incapable of coherent thoughts or sounds.
→ A year later, you drop out of college. It's distracting you. Ben rationalizes that you don't even need an education. It's not like you're going to do anything with it. You're his hole, isn't that enough? He keeps asking why you don't think he can take care of you.
He gets so frustrated one night. He pulls his fist free from your cunt and looks up at you in annoyance. "What the fuck else do you need?" Your hips jerk and you whine, slurring nonsense words as you push yourself towards his hand. "No. Not until you tell me why you have to keep going. Tell me why you think you need to be smart. Haven't I shown you what you are by now? I thought I made it clear how much I need you." He sighs and you let your head fall back between your shoulders, whimpering as your chest heaves, your nipple clamps jingling merrily. You're starting to feel empty again and you want his fist back so badly.
So you drop out and show him the paperwork. He looks so happy that you could cry. He pulls you into his arms and strokes your back, whispering about what a good girl you are. You smile happily and he kisses the tip of your nose.
→ You come home one day and find that his morning plaything hasn't left. You know that there are others, of course. Ben never said that rolodex would be left behind. Sometimes you join them, sometimes you watch, other times it's a good excuse to get laundry or grocery shopping done. This time, his cute little redheaded pet sits on the floor, fully naked and content to have her mouth full of his dick.
"I want to keep this one," he says casually, one arm behind his head. The other channel surfs, going through the channels aimlessly.
You freeze and hold your breath for a moment, wondering if your heart will shatter. But this is yours. You earned this spot. You've been his everything. He doesn't need another full-time hole. What if that means less time for you?
You're both silent for a long moment and the pet — you can't remember her name — slurps down her spit to avoid choking. "I really don't think that's necessary." It's a simple statement. One that a few years ago would have been backed with fire. But he fixed you. He made sure you were softer, easier to mold. He's made you what you are today.
"I really don't remember asking for your fucking opinion," he snaps back. His eyes are steel. They challenge you to defy him, to consider any other lifestyle.
The redhead acts as if she's not even there — and maybe she isn't. You understand how nice it is to float away while his balls slap against your chin. You consider it all and flick your eyes toward the pet again. Something in you softens, or perhaps it dies. You're unsure. "She doesn't stay in our bed."
Ben shrugs, willing to give you that. "Works for me. Now come help her."
You put down the grocery bag and reach for the hairtie on your wrist. It's a quick, mindless movement to pull your hair back.