Word Count Ω 1.1K
Summary Ω Your village is in need, food is no longer as prosperous as it used to be. So, you set out to summon Bucky, god of the hunt. Things don't go quite as you planned.
Warnings Ω Choking/Knives, Religion, Blood, and I think its well established that Bucko himself is a warning. MDNI
Authors Note Ω This wasn't meant to be amazing. Its just that god!bucky has been mindfucking me all week and I needed to get some form of him out into the world. Let me know if you want to see more of him in the future :p Also, the divider was made by the fantabulous @firefly-graphics
The smell of wet moss and dirt is all you can focus on as you lay your forehead against the moist concrete of his altar, your knees tucked tightly underneath you. Your elders told you he was dead, slain by other gods for his wrongdoings. But even you knew that gods could never really die. Not him at least. Not if he was as powerful as they said he was.
The Winter Soldier’s altar was in the middle of the woods, covered by overgrown foliage. Nobody had touched it in years. Hundreds of years. All of them were too scared to face the mighty god, fearful that when he woke, he’d do it enraged. But you weren’t, you didn't have the time to be scared when you needed his guidance so desperately. Your village was starving, the animals had gotten smarter– quicker. And it didn’t help that the forest wasn’t as lush as it used to be. Even wild berries were hard to obtain these days.
You lifted your head from the altar, looking up at the statue which towered above you. The marble effigy portrayed Bucky dressed in tight leather clothing with his dagger plunged into the chest of a bear, blood pouring from its body like a fountain. It was hard to fathom how the art had so much motion while sitting motionless. And the sculptor perfectly portrayed the god before you as nothing but pure sin. His muscles rippled, looking as if they would nearly rip the fibers of his tunic. The metal plates on his arm were deeply detailed, every dent and ridge carved so accurately you were curious if maybe Bucky came to earth to sculpt this himself. His face was contorted in concentration, eyebrows slanted downward and eyes narrowed as he put his unwavering attention into slaying the beast before him.
It was both a horrifying and beautiful scene. It truly depicted how masterfully created Bucky was. A predator whose hands were crafted for death and death only.
At least that's how the others saw him.
You never thought of him that way. Even when your grandmother told you stories of him as a child.
“But Nanna, why does he have to be bad?” You whined, your doe eyes brimming with tears even after your grandmother told you of the gruesome actions The Winter Soldier had committed.
“He was an evil man. That's how he was created. It's the reason the gods killed him,” Your grandmother explained, shutting the storybook. A family heirloom passed on from generation to generation. The crimson leather whined and cracked as the spine stretched to fully shut the book. It was so old.
Your mother told you that it might be just as old as the gods were.
You believed it.
“Was he always bad?” You whispered wide doe eyes looking up at your grandmother, the corners of her thin lips turned downward.
She took a long breath, looking at the fireplace as if she was trying to seek guidance. The fire seemed to perk up under her gaze, each flame licking higher and higher.
“Some argue he wasn’t,” Your Nanna hummed, her eyes trained on the orange sparks of light.
“There is another story. One where The Winter Soldier was reborn, cleansed from his sins into a new god. Bucky is what they called him,” She let out a soft chuckle. “But sweetheart, those tales are nothing but a fool’s wishful thinking. If that was the case, he’d still be alive,” Nanna hummed.
“Now go get your behind into bed, your mother will be angry I kept you up past your bedtime,” She grumbled, nudging you up and towards your bedroom.
Even as a young girl, you knew he was different. That's why from then on you referred to the god as Bucky. You chose to believe he was cleansed, that he was good.
You chose to see the best in him, even if that made you a wishful fool.
After scanning over the masterfully created statue once more, you stood. Wiping your hands on your thighs, you took your family’s storybook from your bag.
The black star on the front seemed to gain a certain luster to it as if it was new. And the leather on the book looked slightly more restored, though you knew your family had done nothing to it. Maybe it had something to do with him.
“Here we go,” You sighed, blowing out all the air in your lungs with a phew. Opening the book, you turned to the page you had marked. Ten words etched vertically into the page with black ink. Nanna told you a myth once that a young man had used the words to summon Bucky and strike a deal.
You prayed to the gods the words worked again.
Running your finger over the raised ink of each word, you finally started reciting them.
“Longing,” You whispered, looking expectantly at the statue. It was still.
“Rusted.”
“Furnace.”
“Daybreak,” a broken twig made you jump, sucking in a gasp and fearfully looking around. Anxiety built in your stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea, you thought, your heart erratically banging around in your chest like it was trying to claw its way out. You had to continue. Your village and its survival were counting on you.
“Seventeen.”
“Benign.”
“Nine.”
“Homecoming,” A male’s voice joined yours. It was so deep you could feel the vibrations in your chest. For some reason, you were no longer scared. The voice empowered you to keep going, not that you could stop. The words kept flowing out of your throat almost against your will.
“One.”
“Freight car.”
You snapped the book shut, returning into silence and tucking it back in the crossbody bag you carried. Without even thinking about it, your eyes drifted to the statue again. Watching. Waiting. And when after twenty-five minutes nothing roused, you sighed.
This failure hurt more than you expected it to. You’d come home, empty-handed, again. Reaching into your bag, you set a plum down at the foot of the altar, bowing your head to Bucky out of respect before turning on your heels and leaving.
You were only able to get a few steps out before you heard a loud snap and then in seconds, someone was headlocking you with a dagger to your throat. But the dagger was not what caught your attention, it was the metal patch, barely visible through the gap in his sleeve.
And at that moment you knew who was holding you.
“Why am I here?” He growled against your ear, pressing the dagger further into your skin, a drop of blood trickling down the column of your throat and collecting in the valley of one of your collarbones.
“Bucky?” You gasped, voice soft and filled with fear.
Apparently, that was not the answer he was looking for considering in one swift motion, he released you, pushing you forward and slamming the butt of his dagger into your temple.
Then darkness.
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The villain breaks into the hero facility to plan their next attack, they watch as the hero is dragged kicking and screaming into a room with superhero. Superhero starts torturing hero because hero failed their last mission and they need to be better. Villain watches their hero get tortured by superhero from the vents in hatred in disgust, their plan slowly turning into a rescue mission.
The hero lay in their own blood. They could feel it everywhere. On their face, in their mouth, under their fingernails. They had given up on trying to take in deep breaths.
They already knew the result would be painful.
From the hero’s experience alone, they could tell that not only their leg was broken, but also some ribs. Their arm didn’t feel really healthy either but they supposed, they could count themselves lucky. All of this had happened in the matter of mere minutes. With the superhero’s bare hands.
“Did you really think your little…adventures would go by unnoticed?” the superhero asked. They kicked the hero’s shoulder to turn them around on their back. Hot pain overwhelmed the hero anew but screaming or moaning wouldn’t change anything. “They will never come to save you.”
Ah, but the hero didn’t expect that, did they?
They stared up at the white lights of the little office room. The hard tiles were cold against their back and they wondered how many minutes they had left without immediate medical assistance.
20? Maybe an hour even? The hero dared to dream.
“You could disappear today and they would never know. No one would tell them. And if I made it public that you, hm, I don’t know, have to work somewhere else and left the country—” they leaned down, staring at the hero “— do you think your little friend would be sad?”
The hero didn’t know what to answer. Maybe? Maybe not? They didn’t know the villain well enough. But the answer was probably no anyway.
“It’s a shame, though. You’re quite talented.” The superhero’s boot found the hero’s arm, kicked it a little as if a dog was playing with a dead animal. “But you’ve become a little annoying thorn. You and your friend.”
Suddenly, the superhero stopped kicking their arm. The hero could only shake their head weakly, a last plea, when they felt the boot shift. The hero wasn’t ready for the pain that followed. For the bone breaking underneath the superhero’s shoe when they put their entire weight onto one small point.
The hero’s arm cracked and immeasurable pain exploded in their entire body. A weak moan was all they managed. That and a lot of tears.
In moments like these, they often thought about the villain. They asked themselves if they had ever endured something like this. They asked themselves how it felt to have the villain’s hand on their shoulder and their calm voice talking to them.
But the hero wasn’t a fool. The villain’s kindness was rare.
“Internal bleeding, broken ribs, probably poking your poor lungs…I think you’re ready to meet your fate now, hm?” The superhero laughed. “Good luck with that. I’ll send someone to clean this up.”
They turned around and walked out of the room without a second glance. The hero could hear the door lock.
Finally, the hero could rest their eyes and get some sleep — or so they thought. They heard a bang and a grunt and the next thing they saw was the villain, on their knees beside them.
At first the hero assumed it was some kind of illusion, some weird dream or fantasy.
“Shit.” That was all the villain said at first. They touched the hero softly — their arm, stomach, their face. They pulled out bandages and worked quietly.
The hero wasn’t sure what to say and they didn’t even know if they could say anything.
“Swallow this,” the villain said. They opened the hero’s mouth and put some pill on their tongue. The hero did as they were told, swallowing blood and pill. “I should’ve come sooner, fuck.”
The hero tried to stretch out their arm to touch the villain but the pain was too overwhelming. Blood got stuck in their throat again and they coughed, spreading even more pain all over their chest.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the villain said quickly. They took the hero’s hand. “I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.”
They were stressed, were panicking. Although the hero had known them for a while, they had never seen the villain like this.
“But it will hurt. A lot. Just…try to stay awake, alright? Promise me.”
The hero nodded but they couldn’t keep that promise.
To find the light, we must first touch the darkness
Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤
dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader
summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.
warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;
word count: 7k
Touch the Darkness Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Chapter 6. Downpour
~ * ~
Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.
Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day.
If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it.
Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid.
You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked.
Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress.
A fucking princess style, out of all.
You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing.
You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband.
Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle.
Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph.
You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch.
With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows.
True was his possessiveness.
Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket.
Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs.
To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion.
“You look beautiful, Princess.”
There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment.
It was also his pride in owning you.
“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises.
He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek.
“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”
Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did.
“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin.
His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass.
“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you.
You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out.
You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body.
To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous.
You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole.
You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him.
No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet.
Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger.
You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire.
It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it.
Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp.
Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission.
You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender.
You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head.
There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation.
You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.
Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue.
Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.
With his fingers.
Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.
It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.
You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.
A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool?
Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.
“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe.
But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear.
The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well.
You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you.
There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom.
Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion.
Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.
He wanted to wreck your body too much.
And you feared how you may react to it.
As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.
For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!
How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth?
After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned.
Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him.
“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way.
“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.
“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”
“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage.
“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”
As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way.
“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core.
Shit! No!
No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet!
“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look.
“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”
Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches.
You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes.
A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized.
Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers.
Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement.
Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them.
He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.
“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared.
You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity.
But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.
Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper:
“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”
Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you.
You were a prey fully ensnared.
“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”
A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments.
Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin.
“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back.
He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled.
Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning.
You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.
“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.
“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”
You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.
“-make that lovely sound.”
Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted.
When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you.
You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs.
He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit.
There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need.
Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing.
Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife.
“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency.
You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to.
Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves.
The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage.
Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers.
You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked.
Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring.
When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily.
“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.
Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it.
Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive.
He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it.
Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties.
Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged.
And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick.
Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction.
“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.”
He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds.
“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery.
It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well.
“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”
Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses.
When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit.
“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”
As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it.
“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee.
With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it.
Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you.
He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry.
Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound.
As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.
“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-”
Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.
Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes.
“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower.
It almost touched your clit.
“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.”
“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.
“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure.
He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief.
Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it.
“Kiss it.” Steve ordered.
You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you.
Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel.
“Good girl,” he praised.
Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets.
He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that.
Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you.
Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made.
“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”
If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran.
Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back.
When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan.
“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.”
It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you.
But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it.
This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery.
Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth.
It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation.
You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch.
You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you.
When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body.
Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist.
Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way.
“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.”
Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock.
He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke.
A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back.
There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you.
He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again.
Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen.
With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream.
Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good.
So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples.
Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl.
When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped.
He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching.
You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care.
You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue.
“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more.
“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass.
You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body.
When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.
Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.
“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal.
Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth.
“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?”
Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too.
If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress.
Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head.
Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you.
Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching.
“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”
And you did.
Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release.
Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him.
“Fuck, Princess.” He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.”
Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend.
Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth.
Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either.
It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.
When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him.
Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment.
“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.”
It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you.
Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out.
You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.
summary/request: mating season makes wanda moody. companion piece to infect me with your lovin’, fill me with your poison (not required, but recommended)
word count: 3.8k
warnings: dark themes and smut (18+ proceed with caution), dark dom wanda, dubcon, kidnapping, implied drugging and somno, noncon medfet, stockholm syndrome, pet play adjacent, forced intimacy, pet names (little one, pet, human), abuse, vaginal sex (reader receiving), tentacle sex, oviposition, pregnancy, breeding kink, size kink, praise kink
A sharp rush of electricity across your skin wakes you violently from your unconscious state. Your body reacts on its own, jerking in the bounds you had no idea you were in. The distinct smell of a sterile hospital room fills your senses, and you start mentally taking stock of any signs of pain in your body. Was there an accident? Were you carried to an emergency room? Do hospitals usually secure you to operating tables like this?
Other than the dissipating shocks still tingling through your body and the disorientation that still has your vision blurred, everything feels normal. You blink a few times, trying to adjust your eyes in the harsh light from the lamp angled at your face.
The room comes into clearer focus, and you're even more confused than you were already. It looks more like a lab than a hospital room. The light blue of the tile floor shimmers under the fluorescent lights, almost iridescent, like one of those pretty jellyfish when their translucent skin catches the light peeking through the ocean waves. There's the faint imprint of what looks to be a high-tech door on the wall opposite you, beyond another table similar to the one you're strapped to. You suppose the keypad next to the faint outline of the door is what slides it open. Next to you is a table with various medical tools. Scalpels, gloves, forceps. The one on the very end makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion.
What could be happening to you that warranted use of a speculum?
"Hello?" Your voice is raspy. Suddenly, you're made incredibly aware of how dry your mouth is. You wiggle in your bounds again. This time, they feel looser - perhaps from your sudden struggling earlier. You're able to squeeze your wrists out of the cuffs, which leave angry red marks where they dug into your skin. You rub them, pouting.
Nobody responds. You sit up on the table so that you can reach down and uncuff your ankles. The cuffs unbuckle easily, and you slide off of the table after that, looking to the other side of the room where you couldn't see before. There's a door on that wall too, with a matching keypad. You steady yourself, still feeling a little weak, before going over to that door. The keypad is a touchscreen. It lights up green as you tap it, but the text that appears is nothing that you can decipher, no language you've ever seen before. After aimlessly tapping to different screens, none of which you can read, the door shockingly slides open with an eerie silence.
You don't even get a chance to react before you're shoved to the ground by something - far too hefty to be a person pushing you down. The tile floor that you were admiring earlier does not offer you a soft landing, and you groan as you push yourself upwards. Your efforts are stopped dead in their tracks by your limbs being pinned to the floor.
Above you, a woman comes into view. Her wild mane of hair frames her stunningly beautiful face, her eyes piercing through you like daggers. For a moment, a wave of calm almost rushes over you at the sight of her. You're not sure why, really. Perhaps just your brain trying to cling to any semblance of hope that was torn away the second you realized that this was not a hospital.
Your eyes trail down her body, widening as they reach the bottom of her torso. Jutting out from her are what can only be described as dark tentacles, thicker and without suctions like octopi have, but tentacles nonetheless. A quick glance at your limbs makes you realize that they are what shoved you down and are pinning you to the ground. You tug at them experimentally, before they're slammed back down.
"You're not very smart, are you?" The woman says to you, tilting her head with slight amusement at the fact that you're still attempting to escape.
"Who the hell are you?" You try to sound intimidating, but you're sure that no matter your efforts, it's useless.
"Does it matter?" You don't know how to answer that. She watches your chest heave from the attempts at wiggling free, which somehow you're still trying. It's cute, seeing you struggle like this. She takes a single ounce of pity on you. "Wanda."
"Great, so what the fuck am I doing here, Wanda? And what the fuck are you?"
Apparently, you've pushed your luck too far, because one of Wanda's tentacles loops up and around your throat, giving you a warning squeeze. She lifts you from the floor, not even sparing you a glance or acknowledging your legs flailing as she carries you back to the table you woke up on.
"Put me do-ow..." The words get choked out of you as she squeezes your throat tighter. Wanda's eyes narrow as you continue to thrash in her grasp. She only lets up and releases her chokehold on you when your body is forced to stop struggling to preserve the little air she allows you. You cough, already dry throat desperate for any sort of relief.
"You're very lucky that you're only useful to me alive," Wanda states, tentacles finally unraveling from your arms. You don't even get the chance to protest or ask what that means - not that your voice would allow it in this state - before you see one of her tentacles spurt out a foggy red mist over your face, and your vision fades to black once again.
The smell of something cooking greets you as you finally come to. Your entire body feels sore, particularly between your legs. You remember the speculum on the medical table and wince. The chill of the room makes you suddenly very aware of your naked body. A few bruises litter your skin. You prod at one on your thigh, hissing at the pain.
Thin metal bars surround you, and you realize that you're in an oversized dog kennel. Wiggling your fingers through the crate, you try to find the latch on the outside, but it's got a blocky device on it that has the same keypad as the laboratory doors did. You huff and grab the soft blanket that’s crumpled up in the corner and wrap it around yourself.
The crate appears to be set up in the corner of a very quaint looking kitchen. That explains the smell. Two women’s voices fill the room. One is Wanda. The angle you’re at doesn’t allow you to fully see her face, but you can just barely make out her hair on the other side of the kitchen island. Sitting on a barstool on the island is a dark haired woman, dressed in a neat purple sweater.
"If you don't expose your human to your true form, do you not think they'll be afraid of you when the time comes?" Wanda asks the other woman, who snorts in response. “What? It’s a fair question, Agatha.”
“Oh, hon,” the woman, Agatha, laughs. “I know this is your first abduction, but you don’t have to act like it. Fun fact, humans tend to soften up more towards other humans versus hideous eldritch beings.”
"So?” Wanda huffs, stirring the pot on the stove that’s giving off the delicious smell. She doesn’t look nearly as scary anymore, tentacles tucked away elsewhere, wearing a long cardigan and mom jeans. For a “hideous eldritch being”, she’s rather adorable.
“You have stacks and stacks of trashy human romance novels on your shelves,” Agatha scoffs. “I shouldn’t have to explain why being nice to the creature you want to mate with is more helpful to you in the long run. Though, guess you always have preferred more instant gratification.”
The word mate rings in your ears. Is that why Wanda took you - to be some vessel for a freaky alien species?
Frantically, you try to mess with the keypad, only for it to flash red symbols at you. Even though you don’t speak the language, you know that means you’re not freeing yourself.
“You roll your eyes at me saying ‘you catch more flies with honey’, but I’ll have you know that my human never tried to escape from a kennel,” Agatha says, without even looking over at you. You freeze. Wanda whips around from the stove, looking much more like the terrifying monster she was earlier.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Wanda says through grit teeth, marching over to your cage.
“Nothing,” you lie. She narrows her eyes. Agatha is silently sipping her tea in the background, watching the mental tug of war with great amusement. To both you and Agatha’s surprise, Wanda simply presses her thumb to the keypad and opens your cage, moving so that you can crawl out.
Still wary of Wanda, you slowly stand up, holding the blanket tighter around your body. Wanda opts to ignore you and go back to the stove, leaving you confused on what to do. You stand there dumbly as Agatha keeps talking to Wanda about her own “pet”. Wanda has her back to you again, and you consider running before you remember the way she so easily overpowered you before.
There’s an empty stool next to Agatha. You tentatively go to sit in it, but just as you touch the seat, Agatha coughs and says, “Wanda, your pet is trying to get on the furniture.”
“Get down,” Wanda says firmly, shooting you a look over her shoulder.
“I want to sit down.”
“Then get on the fucking floor, human,” Wanda spits out the last word like it’s venom. She says it like there’s a hierarchy present, and she’s clearly the apex predator with you beneath her. The bit of self-preservation left in you finally takes over, and you sink to the floor next to the stool. “So, you can listen. Now, crawl over here.”
Humiliation fills your body as you follow Wanda’s orders, crawling the other side of the kitchen island and sitting near Wanda’s feet. You refuse to look up at her, keeping your head ducked down, staring at the hardwood floor. Two bowls are set down in front of you. One is filled with water, the other is filled with what appears to be some kind of stew over rice. You look up at Wanda.
"For me?"
"Can't have you starving now, can I?" Wanda gives you the first smile you've seen from her. Your heart leaps a bit.
"Can I have a fork?"
Agatha finds this very funny for some reason. You shoot her a look, but it's not very intimidating from your position on the floor.
"No, little one. Pets eat on the floor," Wanda pats you on the head condescendingly. When you give her a grumpy look and nudge the bowl away from you in silent protest, her hand reaches out for your head again. Only this time, she tugs your head backwards by your hair, tight grip making you wince. Wanda gets close to your face, eyes intense. "You eat and drink from your bowls, or you don't get any food or water at all."
She releases you aggressively, causing you to topple a bit in your kneeling position. You almost want to call Wanda on her bluff, remembering the comment she made earlier about how she needed you alive. But, your dry mouth and growling stomach have other plans.
You duck down to lap at your water, and you're so thirsty you finish half the bowl in record time before moving on to your dinner. Really, you have no idea how Wanda, who must be some sort of extraterrestrial being, learned to cook human food, but once you taste it, you're certainly not complaining. Wanda and Agatha keep talking about Agatha's pet, ignoring you as you devour your meal.
When you finish, you look up at Wanda. You don't know why, maybe you're hoping for some sort of praise for doing what you've been told. Something to tell you that you've satisfied her for now. She rewards you with such, patting your head and wiping the rice that stuck to your face before slipping a thick collar around your neck.
"What's this for?" You ask, playing with the shiny tag that dangles from it.
"In case you forget who's in charge and try to escape," Wanda says plainly, patting you on your cheek.
“Is all of this really necessary?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Wanda doesn’t even look up from what she’s typing to answer you. This is the third time in the month you’ve been with her that she’s taken you down to the lab for a “check-up.” Whenever you ask about why she’s giving you full medical exams - and snarkily ask where she got her doctorate - she just shushes you and continues looking at your charts.
You assume it has to do with that comment Agatha made on your first night about mating, but even when you ask about that specifically, Wanda just ignores you and continues your exam.
“You don’t give a lot of answers,” you huff, swinging your legs so your heels hit the side of the bed. Wanda visibly scowls at the thumping noise. “Are you gonna steal my brains or take over the world or something?”
“Only if you keep annoying me.”
“So, that’s a yes.”
“Don’t worry about that, little one,” Wanda hums, finally abandoning the computer to cup your face. You’ve gotten used to her touching you by now, so you don’t squirm away like you often did in the first weeks. “You’ll get your answers very soon.”
“Wanda, it hurts,” you sob. “Please.”
Your limbs are pinned tight, positioned spread eagle on the soft bed that you had just come around to getting comfortable napping in. Wanda’s tentacles twitch slightly around your wrists and ankles, and she hovers above you panting hard, eyes closed in a mix of pleasure and desperation. One tentacle is pushing its way roughly into your cunt, thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. That doesn’t stop her though. You’re not sure anything would.
“Too bad,” Wanda grunts, tentacle thrusting deeper inside of you. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
“Y-yes,” you admit. As pathetic as it is, Wanda’s praise has fueled you a lot through your time held captive. You fight back so much that it’s rare, but when she is soft with you, it fills you with warmth that you want to bask in all day. “I’ll be good.”
“Good,” Wanda moans, rewarding you with her fingers on your aching clit. You almost scream at the stimulation, everything too much for your fragile body to handle. A burst of fluids gushes into your cunt, and you assume that means that Wanda’s climaxed. “Good pet.”
Alien anatomy will remain a mystery to you, however, because Wanda just doubles up on her thrusts inside of you. The extra fluid lubricates you enough so that it doesn’t hurt as much, and your eyes roll back in your skull as your body finally succumbs to the pleasure of being stretched and filled.
You hate that you ache to touch Wanda. Maybe it’s just your raging hormones or the forced intimacy that you’ve come to enjoy as of late. You want to wrap your arms and legs around her and pull her body into yours. You crave being able to nuzzle into her skin, maybe even mark her neck like she does yours. But that’s not in the cards for you. At least not now.
You’ll win her over.
It’s not like you have a choice in being here, might as well try to make the most of it.
"Stop that," Wanda scolds, one of her tentacles reaching out and bopping you on the head.
You ignore her, continuing to press your nose to the window, peering into Agatha's home beside yours. Agatha's pet is being tugged into her lap, and you gasp quietly to yourself as you realize that she's slipping a strap into them. "Human, what did I say?"
Wanda marches over to the window beside you, curiosity over what has you entranced overtaking her annoyance with you not listening. She shakes her head when she sees the scene you're watching.
"Little voyeur, are we?" Her hand runs through your hair as your breath catches. "You're lucky Agatha doesn't mind. I think she's actually been planning on this."
"Why don't you ever fuck me like that?"
"What?" Wanda's taken aback by your question.
"You always fuck me with these," you pat the tentacle that's slowly started wrapping around you. It squeezes around you as a warning, but you stupidly ignore it. "I've never even seen Agatha's tentacles."
"She's an idiot. She thinks that her pet won't resist if she waits to show her true form. Her pet will see soon enough.” The thought of the breeding period that the two women talk about still makes your stomach twist in knots. "I was kind and didn't deceive you. I showed you what I was right away."
"Kind is not how I'd put it," you grumble, moving away from the window. Regret immediately hits you as you're jerked back to the couch by Wanda's tentacles. She pins you to the cushions, closing the curtains with another tentacle so Agatha can’t catch a glimpse.
“I don’t appreciate how cocky you’re getting. Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”
“How could I forget?” You try to avoid her gaze, but she grabs your jaw, forcing you to look into her eyes. It’s hard to tell what Wanda’s moods will be like. Sometimes, you’re able to push her buttons without much punishment. Other times, you’re almost immediately reprimanded for so much as being too slow responding. The drastic shift of moods is the worst part of everything. If Wanda was only cruel to you, you’d at least know to never step out of line, and it would be easier to deny how deeply attached you are to her. It’s almost like she enjoys giving you room to fuck up so she can break you in all over again.
“Would you rather be Agatha’s toy? Is that why you’ve been spying on her lately?”
“Maybe I should,” you growl.
“So, you like her better, huh? Is that it?”
“She’d be better than you! I hate you!” You cry. Wanda looks genuinely wounded by your words for a second, but it doesn’t last long. A tentacle is shoved past your lips, and you immediately gag on the appendage.
“You don’t,” Wanda says in a low voice. You swear you hear her voice crack. “I know you don’t. I see how you look at me. I feel you curl into my side at night. Hell, you were the one to ask to sleep next to me.”
You gurgle around her tentacle, tears streaking down your face. Wanda, overwhelmed by her own emotions, pulls back. You gasp for air, coughing a little. She cups your face, smearing your spit on your chin. Your eyes flutter shut at the comforting motion.
Always soothing the pain she causes.
“Say you love me.”
“Wan--”
“Say it. Say you love me.”
There’s a silent please left in the air. She’s desperate for it, you can hear it in her voice and see it in her watery eyes.
You could make her say it. You could hold that over her, if you wanted. But you take pity on her.
“I love you.”
Wanda knows you mean it. She doesn’t say anything back, just nods and pulls you close to her. You can hear her humming softly, something you’ve noticed she does when she’s upset. You crawl fully into her lap, sighing against her neck. She hesitates for a moment; but, as you settle she finally wraps her arms around you.
“Will you make that rice dinner tonight?”
“Of course, little one.”
Agatha always teased Wanda about how her breeding period made her moody. You didn’t put much stock in it until you got to see for yourself how drastically Wanda’s demeanor shifted after her rut.
Even though you made fun of her for being kind and introducing her alien body early on, it made it much easier on you when Wanda went into a full frenzy one day, pinning you down to the bed and fucking you for hours until you were filled with gooey, wet eggs.
It was drastically different than the other times Wanda had taken you. She didn’t tie you down with her tentacles, but rather held you close to her chest in her arms, breathing heavily against your cheek where she kept pressing kisses and mumbling praises, telling you how good you were doing, how well you were taking her, how pretty you were going to look full of her brood.
Wanda even let you touch her, allowing you to mouth at her tits, tugging on her nipples as she thrusted deeper and deeper into you. After she stuffed you with her eggs, she didn’t let you get up for hours, grabbing anything you needed from the side table with her tentacles.
Since your stomach had become swollen with her, she hasn’t snapped at you once. She’s constantly doting over you, always asking if you need anything and insisting on doing things for you. Though you had long since broken past her pets belong on the floor rule, sometimes you still sat between her legs while you watched television out of habit. But now, Wanda forces you to sit on the couch, propping you up comfortably with plush pillows.
You’re not sure what normal pregnancy feels like in comparison to alien ones, but you assume that human babies don’t come with an occasional subtle glow in your stomach that your alien partner is fascinated with. Wanda’s always touching you now, hands rubbing over your tummy, feeling her eggs shift inside of you.
“You’re beautiful,” she says one day while you lay on the bed with her reading. You look down and see her staring at your stomach, fingers tracing over the subtle outline of the eggs.
“Me or your babies?” You laugh, scratching her scalp as she presses a kiss to your stomach.
“Both, but mainly you.” Wanda crawls further up the bed, meeting your lips in a deep kiss. You moan as she bites your lip, smirking against you. She pulls away, and you see a little sparkle of mischief that you’ve never seen in her eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing,” Wanda hums.
“Liar. Tell me.”
“Oh, I’m just thinking about how much I like you like this. Seeing you full of me.”
“Kinky,” you tease. Though, the statement makes your cheeks heat up with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Her possession over you has shifted into pure devotion, and you were more than happy about that.
“Mhm. And as soon as these babies hatch…” Wanda presses a small kiss to your cheek and whispers against your skin, “I’m going to fill you up all over again.”
masterlist | ao3 link | monsterfucker celebration masterlist
The sight of Clint’s body on the ground makes your stomach retch, and you let out a deep sigh as you report the murder to the others. This is the third loss of your mission, and yet no one can figure out who keeps leaving the bloody remains of your fellow crewmates in the halls.
summary: You start a job as a teacher’s assistant under high school teacher Agatha Harkness. All your coworkers take an instant liking to you- everyone but Wanda Maximoff.
“And we come to the end of the tour,” Agatha told you and stopped walking.
You turned to face her and smiled. “Thank you, Agatha. I can’t even begin to express how much this means to me. I’m so excited to work here under you.”
Agatha stepped forward to wrap her arms around you. She was warm and welcoming like that. You liked that about her. You hugged her back and closed your eyes. “Oh, darling. I’m so lucky to have you assigned to assist me,” she admitted, and when she pulled back from the hug, there was a wide smile on her lips. Agatha was so pretty. “The kids are a handful, especially as we begin to near the end of the school year. You’re a godsend.”
Looking down at the ground with a blush and a shy smile, you answered, “Thank you.”
A hand is placed on your upper arm with a squeeze and the two of you continue to head down the hallway. It was early in the morning, a few minutes before school began for the day, and the hallways were nearly empty, so it didn’t take much movement for a woman slipping out of her classroom to catch your eyes. You looked up from your shoes to the woman.
Green eyes looked over the sheets of papers in her hands as she walked down the hallway, heels of her black stilettos clicking. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly as she looked intensely focused on the content she was reading over. Long, soft-looking dark strawberry blonde hair slipped from behind her ear. Your eyes ran down her body, taking every curve in. She was wearing a sinfully tight black pencil skirt and a wine red blouse. It was a striking contrast against her creamy ivory skin.
You did not know why your heart skipped several beats when Agatha called the woman’s name. A desire to run and hide from the woman’s gaze tightened your chest. You stood by Agatha’s side, hands pressing against the sides of your legs to prevent yourself from fidgeting in front of her. Wanda. That’s what her name was.
“Agatha,” Wanda responded with a polite nod of her head. Her eyes found yours and she stared at you for a moment, her expression still. You could almost swear her gaze flickered down at your lips for a third of a second.
“This is my new assistant, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s going to be working here until the end of the school year,” Agatha introduced you, looking over at you with a proud smile. You wanted to do nothing more than run away at that very moment with the eyes of two women like Wanda and Agatha on no one else but you.
A hand reached out to you. Wanda’s. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said with an passive smile. You took her hand and shook it, your fingers just barely having enough grip on her hand to ghost her skin.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Wanda,” you responded as simply and professionally as you could. Her grip on your hand was stern but her fingers were soft. You missed her hold when she retracted her hand from you.
“It’s Ms Maximoff,” Wanda corrected promptly. Your blood ran cold. Fuck. Bad first impression.
Agatha cleared her throat. “Ms Maximoff is our foreign language teacher here.” You detected some discomfort in her tone, but you couldn’t be bothered to determine its meaning. Your eyes stole glances of Wanda Maximoff whenever you could under the impression that she didn’t notice every time your eyes flickered over to her face or her hips or the unbuttoned collar of her blouse.
Wiping the palms of your hands against your sides awkwardly, you spoke again, “Sorry. Ms Maximoff,” you corrected yourself. Wanda seemed pleased with your compliance and she nodded. “Um… What languages do you teach?” Your attempt to continue a conversation with her was pathetic, but at least she looked like she was putting together a response. Agatha was barely in your eyeline, but you imagined she looked slightly out of place.
“Anything Slavic,” Wanda replied simply. Her eyes did not leave yours once as she answered you. The brief answers coming from her were directly opposing the undivided attention she gave you as green eyes focused exclusively on you, her body not turning away for a moment either.
It must’ve been a good sign though, wasn’t it? If your impression had been bad enough, you imagined Wanda wouldn’t pay as much attention to you as she was now.
“Oh, wow,” you mused. Wanda must’ve been quite smart, having spent that much time learning that many languages. Your mind wandered to a focused Wanda teaching a different language in her tight pencil skirt, the words rolling off her tongue with a certain rasp and smoothness that was signaturely hers. Her blouse unbuttoned just a tad bit more as she leaned over your desk-
“Do you come from a Slavic-langauge speaking country?” you asked, forcing yourself to be monetarily free from your fantasies in order to look like a functioning human being in front of the prettiest woman alive.
Despite the hesitation that occurred before your second sentence, Wanda looked unphased. Did she notice it at all? She noticed every single quirk of your eyebrows and the upward twitches of the corners of your mouth, every millisecond you took before answering her. “Indeed. I grew up in Moscow,” she responded, her clandestine attentiveness to your behaviour unexpressed.
You could only find yourself nodding in understanding of her response. Your brain was sorted through hastily for a satisfactory response to that, but you found you couldn’t do anything but nod silently.
Speaking up again, Agatha inserted herself into yours and Wanda’s conversation, “We don’t want to keep you, Ms Maximoff. We’ll be off.” She nodded in your direction and you turned to follow behind Agatha. Her sudden stern professionalism towards Wanda went unnoticed by you. You looked over your shoulder to smile at Wanda politely but she was already heading down the hallway.
Later, during lunch in the staff room, you were alone in the empty room after finishing your meal. The day had passed quite quickly, but then, it was only noon. Either way, you imagined it was also partially due to how nice everyone was to you and how much you were enjoying the job. Agatha was entirely too sweet to you, and her students were too.
While heading towards the staff room earlier, Pepper Potts, who taught business and management, spoke with you while she went to print out copies of her worksheet assignment. She was married to Tony Stark, the school’s mechanics teacher. She was wonderfully informative and supportive of your presence at the high school. After the conversation, you found you were eager to meet everyone else.
But Wanda was very different from them. She was withdrawn and elusive, but the depth in her stares while you spoke with her was evident of a rich inner world behind sharp eyes and controlled behaviour. Wanda seemed to like you the least of everyone you worked with, but she intrigued you the most.
The door of the staff room was pushed open and you raised your head from your phone.
Wanda stepped into the staff room, a stack of papers in hand and an empty coffee mug in the other. Her eyes were raking down the content of the papers she was holding. You wondered if she even noticed you were sitting at the table at the side of the room, and with no desire to surprise her, you sunk down in your seat and kept quiet.
Peeking from above the top of your phone, you watched as Wanda set up the Keurig to brew herself a cup of coffee. A desire to see the flavour she chose for her coffee grew within you as you continued to silently watch her.
She spoke suddenly and you jumped in your seat, “You’ve caused quite the stir amongst the staff here.” So, she had known that you were in the room, and she was entirely unconcerned with your presence. Her back was still facing you as she placed her mug under the Keurig’s spout.
You put the realisation behind you to answer her, picking the conversation up from where she had started it. “Really? Why?” you asked, feeling inexplicably proud.
“It’s beyond me.”
And just like that, all the pride deflated from you and you felt dejected.
Wanda stopped the smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips at the thrill that degrading you gave her. But you were a sweet girl, truly. You took her indolence well despite how purposely cold she was being. There was something so alluring about the falling of your shoulders and the responsibility you obviously immediately carried on your back to please her the moment she felt displeased.
“There is one thing you can do for me, Y/N,” she spoke, turning around to look at you. The sight she was greeted with was nothing short of captivating. You were sitting at the furthest seat from the entrance of the staff room, your body shrunken down in your chair, evidence of shy obedience.
“What is it?” you answered, immediately excited to make it up to her. Wanda absolutely adored it.
“The coffee brewer seems to be broken again.”
“I’ll fix it!” you offered quickly and stood up from your chair to walk over to her.
Wanda watched you intently as you headed over to the Keurig behind her. She turned to face you, not wanting to miss a moment. Your tongue peeked out at the corner of your mouth as you began fiddling with the coffee machine, trying to figure out how to fix it. You were so cute and innocent. So good to Wanda despite how indifferent she behaved around you. She watched you the entire time you were fixing the Keurig.
Panic was spread across every one of your nerves, desperate to quickly find an answer to Wanda's issue. If you backed away from the machine without having fixed at least a single part of it, you’d die of embarrassment once you had to sit back down without an answer. A wave of relief washed over you as your eyes trailed up the Keurig's wire. “Oh! It’s not plugged in,” you noted aloud and reached over the counter to plug it in. The wire was inches away from the tips of your fingers.
As if she hadn’t known that, as if she hadn’t been the very one to unplug it to be able to call you over to her, Wanda leaned over the counter instead and plugged the machine into the outlet for you, allowing you to see down her blouse and at her breasts. She was wearing a scarlet red lace bra. You imagined a matching pair of panties and your cheeks immediately turned as red as her lingerie.
“You’re a doll. Thank you,” Wanda said finally, straightening up to walk back around to your side of the counter. She started to brew her coffee again. As she did, you looked away from her, willing yourself to stop blushing and act normal. How long had you been staring? Unbeknownst to you, only Wanda knew. She knew down to the very second how long you had been looking down her blouse, eyes running over the swell of her breasts that were hugged snugly by her bra.
You backed away from Wanda and headed to your seat. You’d have to be back at Agatha’s classroom in a few minutes and needed to start heading there now. There was no further conversation with Wanda as you packed your things back up while she brewed her mug of coffee. What interaction you had with her, if one could even call it that, was when you exited the staff room together.
Yelena Belova and Kate Bishop were passing by the room when you left. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of you and backtracked their steps to face you together.
“What’s up, Y/N?” Kate greeted you with a grin.
“Kate and I are about to go for lunch at the pizza place down the road. Do you wanna join us?” Yelena offered.
You only noticed Wanda was behind you when she abruptly spoke. “Lunch ends in five minutes, girls. I do hope you’ll be back in time for class. Otherwise, I wouldn’t suggest leaving at all,” Wanda told them sternly. Her eyebrows were stitched together. She almost looked angry. You had no idea Wanda was such a strict teacher, but perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised.
Yelena and Kate exchanged a look and you glanced over to Wanda. Her glare was unyielding as she stared the two students down as if she was silently challenging them to argue with her. Her head tipped to the side slightly, menacingly, even, and the two girls finally responded.
“Fine, Ms Maximoff,” Kate huffed out, irritation laced tightly around her response.
“Guess we’ll starve today,” Yelena retorted and the two girls continued heading down the hallway to their classes, but not without Kate flashing you a smile from over her shoulder.
Wanda said nothing more after that, and she passed you without a word after Kate and Yelena turned a corner.
You watched the swaying of Wanda’s hips as she walked ahead of you, then her red lips as they wrapped around the rim of her mug. Forcing yourself to look away, you closed the staff room door and headed down to Agatha’s classroom.
The rest of the day passed as quickly as you imagined it would. Natasha Romanoff, who you learned taught physical education, walked you to your car as the two of you conversed about miscellaneous topics. But mostly about each other.
Natasha was a witty and kindhearted woman. You quite enjoyed talking with her, and by the time you arrived at your car, you wished you had taken more time to walk with her. Against the driver's door of your car, she and you continued your conversation. She had progressively been stepping closer to you as you conversed, and you were glad for the closeness that you were forming between you and your coworkers.
There were only a few cars left around the two of you by the time you and Natasha exchanged numbers, including a red Buick that was parked a few metres behind yours. After giving her phone back from adding your number into her contact list, the Buick’s engine started. It drove past you and Natasha, picking up speed as it pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road as if the driver was in a rage.
“Was that a student here?” you asked Natasha, taking your focus away from the car and back to the redhead in front of you.
Natasha pushed herself from the door of your car, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “I think that was Wanda’s car,” she answered nonchalantly.
The very mention of her name sent chills down your spine. You shifted in your spot and spoke up, “I think it’s time I head home, but I’ve really enjoyed meeting you.” It was true, you did thoroughly love meeting Agatha, Natasha, Pepper, the students, and even Wanda, although you were entirely sure she did not share the same sentiments.
“Of course. So have I. See you tomorrow,” Natasha responded understandingly with a warm smile.
You fell asleep that night thinking about Wanda Maximoff. Her ringless ring finger. The long locks of her dark orange hair. The inviting colour of her green eyes, almost daring you to delve deeper into them every time you caught them with yours. The swell of her breasts as her blouse exposed the entirety of her red lace bra. Her curved hips hugged tightly by her skirt as she walked ahead of you in the hallway at lunch.
Second to wanting to sleep in for another ten minutes, Wanda invaded your thoughts at the moment of your awakening as well.
As you ate your cereal and read a novel absentmindedly, you noticed the notification from an unknown number.
‘Hiya, Y/N. Good morning :)’ it read.
You knew instantly that it was Natasha. After adding her to your contacts, you responded with, ‘Hi, Natasha! Good morning to you too xx’
When you arrived at work an hour later, you were quick to notice the absence of Agatha’s things in the locked classroom. Had she not yet arrived? You hoped she was pulling into the parking lot now, because any other distance would render her late. How would her students get in?
“Y/N. Good morning,” a voice greeted from behind you and you felt yourself tense. One does not spend every hour of their night and morning daydreaming about a woman only to not recognise her voice the next time you saw her.
Turning around to face Wanda with a meek smile, you replied to her, “Good morning, Ms Maximoff.” You did not notice the way Wanda inhaled sharply at the sight of you, her back straightening slightly. You were wearing skinny jeans that hugged your legs a tad too tight for a professional setting, a black lacy tank and a dark brown loose sweater atop of it. Green eyes wandered up your figure for several milliseconds before meeting yours. The action was not lost on you, but the meaning of it was disregarded as chaste.
After clearing her throat, Wanda spoke again, “Unfortunately, Agatha is out sick today. There is a substitute coming in to supply for her absence, but Steve decided you wouldn't be learning all that you could here if you were working under a substitute teacher, even if for a day.”
Steve Rogers was the high school’s principal. From the brief time you spent with him during your interview and several times as you passed him in the hallway, you saw him as a cordial and confident man.
Wanda listed a few teachers, “Pepper is on a field trip today and her husband’s class went with her. Bruce is otherwise preoccupied, as what is typical. And Natasha…”
There was a pause in her sentence as if she was waiting for some type of reaction on your end. When one did not come, Wanda finished her sentence, “She is available today, but Steve approached me first. So, you will be working under me for the day.”
Working under… Wanda? All day? You swallowed and looked away from her, scratching at your cheek lightly in an attempt to hide your flushed face. Nails then dug into your palms as you tried to take hold of the wildly blooming nerves in your stomach. How were you going to spend the entire day within close proximity to Wanda and behave like a normal human being?
“Okay,” you replied.
Wanda was amused by your simplicity, your willingness to follow along with anything she demanded of you. Her lips twitched upwards as she repressed a smirk. She turned to head across the hallway to her classroom, not uttering a single word to you as she imagined you were following behind her. You were.
You were a bit shorter than Wanda, so you spent the time running your eyes up the expanse of her hair, wondering how it would feel if your fingers brushed through it. Would she like the feeling of it? How did she like her lovers to touch her? How did she touch them?
The door to her classroom was unlocked and she stepped through, flicking on the light as you followed behind her. She was wearing a striped dress consisting of reds, yellows, oranges, and blues. It was similar to the style of the seventies, but Wanda pulled it off perfectly. The ivory tone of her skin balanced out the vibrance of her dress. Her long straight hair framed her high cheekbones. Wanda was beautiful.
You wanted to feel her skin against yours, her warm breath blowing down the side of your neck. You wanted to be enveloped in her scent- sweet fig and woodsy earth. Her rough hands roaming your body without a sliver of hesitation, without restraint.
A sigh escaped Wanda as her bag slipped from her shoulder, laying it down on her desk chair. She turned to you. “You can sit wherever you’d like,” she told you, her hand gesturing to the U-shaped table by her desk. You set your bag down at the table closest to the door and furthest from Wanda’s desk.
“Please, darling, closer. No need to be so far away.” Wanda beckoned you over with her hand and, with a blush, you picked your bag up and sat in the middle of the table. “I don’t bite,” she purred out, and your legs turned to jelly. Fortunately, you plopped yourself down in your seat on time.
“That’s better,” she said with a pleased smile and lifted her bag onto her desk to take a seat at her chair. Wanda began unpacking her things and you watched her as you unpacked yours too. It was slightly unsettling how sweet she was being to you so suddenly. She had always been a bit aloof and, frankly, repelled by you. What had changed? The answer was far from realisation and that settled in you uncomfortably.
“I teach four classes a day,” Wanda spoke as she flipped through a large binder she had in her desk drawer that was now sitting on her desk in front of her. You settled your movements and you stayed quiet to listen to her words. “I know you’re used to a maximum of two with Agatha, but I am the only foreign language teacher here, and Agatha is one of the several history teachers. Hence, I teach more in a school day than her.” She had her binder open to today’s date. There was a list of detailed events and scheduled lessons outlined on the page. “I hope this isn’t too much for you. If you can’t keep up, I’d recommend you relegate to Ms Romanoff’s classes for the day instead.”
The last bit sounded demeaning of Natasha, but you tried not to read into it much; you had no clue how your coworkers interacted with each other, and for all you knew, Wanda’s wording meant nothing. “No, it’s not too much for me, Ms Maximoff. I can keep up,” you promised her with a nod.
Wanda’s chin rested in her hand as she looked at you, an impressed hum sounding from her. “That’s good. I knew you were a bright girl, Y/N,” she praised with a smile. The upwards curve of her soft lips was unrestrained and genuine. Wanda looked so natural like this. You didn’t know her much, but even you could figure that the overly-strict and stern high school teacher was not everything she was. She was more. Much more. You hoped this was only the beginning of figuring out just what that ‘more’ involved.
“Thank you, Ms Maximoff,” you responded, proud of having been praised by her.
“You can call me Wanda.” She’d been strict with you because she liked having you submit to her. She liked when you addressed her formally, how simple-minded you were when you followed her orders. But avoiding diving into things right away for some foreplay, whether you knew it was happening or not, was delicious. Now, she’d have you another way.
Pride beamed out of you as you successfully arrived at first-name basis. As if every god in Valhalla stood together to smile down at you, a giggle escaped Wanda at your reaction. You were so adorable. Innocent. Corruptible.
“Okay. Wanda,” you replied with a bright grin. The name slipped smoothly from your tongue, embracing every curve of your mouth and edge of your lips.
Wanda’s head tipped to the side in her hand, staring at you with something alike to admiration. The attention made you squirm and you looked back down to your notebook filled with miscellaneous notes on Agatha’s history lessons and notable methods of teaching.
Several students slipped into the classroom and you watched Wanda’s posture straighten and she hardened back into her previous sternness.
“Good morning, Ms Maximoff,” some students chirped as they headed to their desks. Wanda greeted them politely and she continued with setting up the day’s lessons.
It finally settled in you that Wanda was going to speak another language for most of the day, and you were allowed to listen, help where you could, and take notes. This was the closest thing you’d ever gotten to heaven. You doodled absently and took some notes on Wanda’s methods of preparation, all the while students were filing into the classroom steadily.
Ten minutes later, everyone was settled and Wanda stood from her seat, heading towards the front of the class. “Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re all well-rested, because our Russian lesson will be heavy this morning,” she told them as she reached the front of the room. The students groaned simultaneously. She handed a stack of sheets to the student closest to her to hand out the papers, which they promptly did.
“But first, I’d like to introduce Y/N.” Wanda gestured to the back of the classroom where you sat. Approximately twenty-five heads turned to look at you. You smiled awkwardly and waved. “For today, she’s going to assist my class. Don’t be afraid to go to her for help with any of your academic questions,” she spoke. Her eyes were on you for several moments, and once they left you, they did not return until Carol Danvers stood from her desk during the class’ work period to speak with you.
After Wanda’s lessons, you had learned how to read several letters of the Russian alphabet, and how to say ‘Hello, how are you?’ in Russian too.
“Hi,” Carol said shyly as she invited herself to take a seat in front of you across the table.
You didn’t know much about Carol besides what Natasha had told you the other day. Carol was the top of her class in physical education, continuously excelling in sports team leadership, winning countless trophies for the high school when their teams went out to tournaments. She was a bright young woman with a promising future, but the way Wanda glared at the two of you interacting made you question your first impressions of her.
“Hi,” you answered with a polite smile. You shifted in your seat, positioning yourself to talk to her with undivided attention. “Can I help you with something?” You’ve always loved helping people. You loved having answers to things, to see the enlightened expression on people’s faces once you helped them. You loved pleasing.
Incidentally, Wanda loved being pleased.
Maria Rambeau exchanged a look with Carol and the blonde turned back around to you. The exchange was slightly odd, but Carol’s curious eyes brought your attention back to her. “Actually, yes,” Carol started and played with her fingers atop of the table. “I was wondering…” Her words came out slow but you simply nodded in patient understanding.
If looks could kill, Carol Danvers would’ve been incinerated by Wanda on the spot three times over.
“Are you, um… Do you do after-school tutoring?” Carol asked with an innocent raise of her eyebrows. You took a few seconds to come up with a response as you tried deciphering what she was asking of you. “I just mean, I do a lot of training and tournaments during and after school. So, I was just curious if you offered tutoring. Y’know, after school,” she elaborated with dramatic swishes of her hands.
Wanda knew precisely what Carol was asking- whether or not you had plans after work, whether or not you were seeing someone. Her jaw clenched and she forced herself to wait a few moments longer so she could reprimand Carol with just enough evidence to send her back to her desk. She hadn’t known you long, no, but time meant little to Wanda when you were being flirted with right in front of her.
Wanda also knew that you were too oblivious to know what was going on, and if you were to eventually figure it out on your own, it’d take several more minutes for you to do so.
And Carol was much too young for you. She had just turned eighteen, and Carol’s attraction to you was nothing more than a childish crush. You needed someone mature, someone with experience. Someone to tell you what to do. Sweet girls like you deserved that. Not a half-brained high schooler.
“What do you need tutoring with? I’m not very good with Russian like Ms Maximoff is, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you replied to Carol with a sheepish smile. The mention of her name in your mouth while talking to another girl made Wanda feel all the more territorial over you.
“Uh, anything!” Carol replied with an eager grin. She sat up straight in her seat, hands in her lap as she leaned forward confidently. “I mean, anything. I’m sort of… lacking in everything. Academically. So, whatever you can offer, I’d love to go out with.” Her words stumbled into a Freudian Slip, and not even you could miss that one. Carol’s face turned bright red and she stuttered out helplessly, trying to cover up what she had just said.
Peter Parker giggled with Kate somewhere closer to the front of the classroom. With Carol’s status at school, she had many friends, meaning many people knew her business. Everyone knew that Carol was a lesbian and crushing hard on Ms Harkness’ new assistant. Realising how loud she had been speaking, Carol flushed even redder and she stood up abruptly. “Sorry,” she muttered out into her hands, obviously embarrassed as she excused herself from the classroom without another word.
A grin tugged at Wanda’s lips after all of thirty seconds passed before Carol messed things up for herself without any external intervention. She couldn’t help the throb between her thighs when you remained hers without having to lift a single finger.
Your eyes followed Carol as she disappeared down the hallway. Immense guilt fell over you as you thought over what you could’ve done to support her. You didn’t like her the way she did you, but she was a nice girl. Your fingers tapped against the table anxiously.
About to stand up to follow Carol out to comfort her, Wanda spoke to you, “Y/N.” Her voice was quiet but stern as it cut through the otherwise silent classroom. You turned to her. ‘Leave her,’ Wanda mouthed silently. The demand felt domineering. Possessive. But you couldn’t shake the warmth that it placed in your chest, being commanded by Wanda Maximoff. You sat back down in your seat and continued to go through your course’s sideshow from yesterday that you had missed to have your first day here.
Wanda smiled at your easy compliance and returned back to her own work.
Up until lunch, the day had not only been passing quickly, but enjoyably as well. Wanda was very obviously passionate about teaching languages, and she was more than qualified to do so. Her lessons were etched into your mind with ease as you listened closely to every word Wanda uttered about the history of the Cyrillic language and Russian grammar as her speech was interlaced with an accent that was much stronger while she was speaking English and Russian simultaneously. The rolling of her R’s made your core throb uncomfortably.
“Would you like to go out for coffee with me, sweetheart?” Wanda offered as she put her notes away into her binder after class. You nodded immediately in response and the high school teacher smiled down at you. She took her purse with one hand as she approached you. A finger hooked itself under your chin and Wanda tipped your head up to look at her. Her eyes were solemn as they looked down at your doe eyes and soft lips. A smile formed on her lips again as you let her touch you without restraint, completely at her mercy.
Maybe if it was anyone else, you’d have pulled away from the contact without a second’s notice. But it was Wanda. Wanda had hooked her finger under your chin, making you look up as if you were on your knees for her. And you would’ve actually done so if she asked. Your warm breath exhaled on her ring-clad thumb as its pad ran softly over your bottom lip. Green eyes were dark as they continued to look down at you. You wished you knew what she was thinking. Her gaze was possessive and almost patronising.
“Sweet girl,” she uttered out softly. “Let’s go.”
As Wanda headed towards the classroom’s front door, you quickly packed your things into your bag and followed behind her hastily, nearly tripping on the foot of the U-shaped table. A smirk was flashed at you as Wanda mused at your eagerness to spend your lunchtime with her.
“Your boyfriend must be proud of you and your new position here,” Wanda assumed aloud as she pulled out of the school’s parking lot. She was wearing shades with the car windows down, wind blowing through her strawberry blonde hair. When you slipped into the passenger’s seat, you were certain this was the exact same car that sped past you and Natasha yesterday.
Carol tiptoed around it, but Wanda was not entirely one for subtleties when she knew what she wanted. She’d take you whole.
Your head leaned against the side of the car, allowing the wind to caress every inch of your face as Wanda drove to a cafe she knew. “I’m sure he would be if I had one,” you responded. You were quite the oblivious person sometimes. It didn’t take much to be the most intuitive person your friends knew, but when it came to your own personal life, you couldn’t tell when someone was purposely flirting with you until they outright mentioned it like Carol had earlier.
Wanda’s car smelled good. It smelled like her. Subtly sweet. Honeyed earth. It felt like a warm, indirect hug from her.
The comfort you felt as you were driven down a sunny road by Wanda was not lost on her. She looked over at you warmly, the sight of your eased expression made immeasurable pride blossom in her. Nothing Natasha nor Agatha could do would ever make you feel like this, and Wanda was doing little to nothing to have you wrapped around her finger. If she leaned over to wrap a collar around your pretty neck, she doubted you’d protest at all. ‘Wanda’s dirty whore,’ the collar’s name tag would say, and you’d show it off proudly, wouldn’t you? To every pathetic bitch who wanted to fuck you, letting them know that you were entirely hers.
Wanda ground her hips into her seat slightly, applying pressure to her throbbing centre. A muffled moan came from her as she bit down on her bottom lip, both desperation and the desire to be subtle around you contending.
“Is everything alright?” you asked her as you lifted your head from the window.
“I’m fine, darling. You’re so lovely to me,” Wanda replied with a small sly smile. From behind her shaded sunglasses, you couldn’t see the way green eyes trailed down your body, dangerously unfocused from the road. Her tongue pushed into the inside of her cheek, thighs pressing together as her eyes ran down your legs, hidden away, tightly, by your jeans.
Lunch with Wanda was wonderful. She was so gorgeous and kind despite how cold she had been to you when you first met. She went not more than several minutes before flattering you again. Her hands reached for you at every chance possible, running down your legs, your upper arms, tucking your hair behind your ears. You felt so pampered, so taken care of. She bought your coffee and the croissant you wanted- or more accurately, eyed, to which Wanda promptly bought for you. She brushed off the crumbs from your jeans with her palm and around your mouth with her thumb. Her fingers tightened around your thighs as she brushed the crumbs away from them, and took her time in brushing her thumb over your lips, simultaneously stern and feather-weight.
Halfway through the lunch, Wanda went to the washroom, and you thought nothing of it. While she was gone, your mind raced with the lingering feeling of Wanda’s hands on your body, on your face. Minutes turned into seconds while your fingers traced over the ghosting sensations of Wanda’s hands.
All the while, Wanda’s dress was hanging from around her wrist, head leaning back into the wall of a bathroom stall as she thrusted wet fingers into herself languidly, her panties pulled to the side. She kept her moans and pants soft to hear the sloshing of her own cunt, never mind the possibility of someone walking in. What rational bone she had in her body was nonexistent while her mind was filled with the feeling of the pliability of your skin under her wandering hands, the scent of you filling her every sense, even as you were sitting in the other room.
Wanda panted your name out repeatedly as if it were a prayer, each syllable of it running through her mouth, tasting the way it caressed her tongue. Her fingers picked up speed as she drew closer to her climax. The heel of her palm pressed into her clit and her knees buckled, a desperate whimper escaping her. Her walls clenched around nimble fingers as she reached her hilt. She slid down the stall door, riding through her orgasm with shaky fingers, until she forced her legs to straighten and hold herself back up.
Between shaky breaths, Wanda took her hand out from between her thighs and let her dress fall back to its original place. After taking the next few moments to clean herself up, she headed back out to the cafe. Even if you had suspected that she’d been masturbating in the washroom, the sight of a perfectly kempt Wanda would’ve done away with your suspicions.
Approaching from behind you, Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing her arm around you gently. “Ready to go, angel?” she asked, looking down at you. You looked up to her and a warm smile formed on Wanda’s lips the moment she saw your curious eyes. So innocent and pretty when you were looking up at her like that.
You responded with a nod and stood up in Wanda’s hold. To avoid overwhelming you with physical contact, Wanda’s arm slipped from around your shoulders and she stepped back to allow you to get ready to leave. You placed the empty coffee mugs beside each other and stacked your sandwich plate atop of Wanda’s before leaving the cafe with her.
Wanda forced herself not to touch you any further to avoid delving into the delusions of her expedition in the washroom earlier. Unbeknownst to her, you were aware of the sudden decline of physical contact, and you missed her warm venturing hands.
You walked closer to her so your shoulder brushed against hers. Wanda did not pull away. If you had urged her just a little bit more, she was likely to climb atop of you in the car and fuck you with her fingers until you came in her mouth whether you wanted it or not. The desire to do so was clawing itself up the frame of her body, and with enough prompting, it’d burst from her every seam. But you parted from her to round to your side of the car and Wanda inhaled sharply as she unlocked the car and entered into the driver’s side.
You’d be the death of her.
Wanda wished she had her strap stowed in her car to bend you over in her backseat and fuck you until you couldn’t take anymore. The car would rock with every pound into your pussy, letting everyone know who you belonged to. Perhaps her students would catch her, and there would undoubtedly be consequences to that, but that was far from the list of Wanda’s primary concerns.
Throughout the ride back to school, Wanda kept stealing glances of your relaxed body language, your expression at ease as you were vulnerable in her presence, entirely trusting of her. She could feel pressure begin to build between her hips again at your innocence. You had no idea how Wanda’s fingers had been knuckle-deep in her cunt earlier, fucking herself until she came to the thought of you. You had no idea how desperate she was to fuck you dumb.
Needless to say, it was a turbulent ride as Wanda’s needs went unsatisfied. She imagined coming right out with it and telling you how wet she was, how badly she needed you to eat her out. Like the good girl you were, you’d do anything for her. Anything she asked you to. She imagined the feeling of your soft hair as it was tightened into her fist while she pushed your face further down between her thighs, her other hand squeezing the wheel.
Wanda pulled into the school’s parking lot and parked her car within the next several moments. She and you had a few minutes left before lunch ended. “I really enjoyed lunch with you,” Wanda told you, taking her keys out of ignition as she looked over to you.
You smiled widely, pride bubbling up inside you. The sight made Wanda all but melt. “I did too. I hope we can spend more time together soon,” you admitted. As kind as Natasha and Agatha were, your admiration of Wanda was dissimilar to how you felt about them. Your admiration for Wanda nestled within you warmly. It opened your eyes to find every opportunity possible to spend with her. It was uplifting and exciting.
Wanda’s hand raised to your cheek, stroking your cheekbone softly with her thumb as one would do with fine porcelain. She cared little about the possibility of anyone catching the two of you. In fact, she almost hoped for someone to. Natasha Romanoff or Carol Danvers, any of those other pitiful broads trying to get into bed with you. They didn’t deserve you. “We should get going, angel.” The tips of her fingers grazed along your jaw as she pulled away to step out of the car.
You sat in the car for a moment more, trying to catch your breath and settle your nerves from the sudden intimate contact. To avoid looking like an idiot, you forced yourself to follow Wanda and step out of the car, taking your bag with you as you rounded the vehicle to join her side.
The Russian smiled over at you and you took a step closer to her side as you both headed into the school. Her pretty girl, stuck to her side without so much as a beckon. Although, you’d likely love it more if Wanda had her hand tightened around your forearm, forcing you forward by her side possessively.
“Y/N!” a voice called from behind you and Wanda. The two of you turned at the doors of the school to see a familiar redhead heading your way with a waving hand.
Wanda’s jaw tensed and without a second thought, she raised her hand to the small of your back. You arched slightly, unknowing of the way you stepped into Wanda’s side. But Wanda had caught onto it. A smirk tugged at her lips at your subconscious desire to be hers. The hesitant expression on Natasha’s face only pulled her smirk further upwards.
Natasha’s eyes flickered between the two of you, but you were entirely oblivious of her curiosity. “Are you two… Were you out? For lunch?” she asked, an awkward smile on her lips as her eyebrows furrowed.
“Wanda and I went out for coffee,” you told her, sounding proud of being in Wanda’s presence. “Did you have lunch already?”
Wanda pushed her tongue into the side of her cheek at your concern for Natasha.
“I… I did. I texted you earlier, actually. I wasn’t sure if you got my texts,” Natasha said with a sheepish chuckle. “Were you busy?”
“She was,” Wanda replied abruptly. Your gaze darted over to her, surprised at the harshness of her tone. Even when you’d first met, Wanda never sounded like that.
Natasha’s gaze hardened momentarily, but she eased her stance and expression quickly in an attempt to play nice around you. “Alright. It’s no problem. Just don’t forget to text me back when you’re free,” she told you with a slight smirk. She passed close by you, shoulders nearly brushing as Natasha entered the school.
The demanding tone of Natasha’s words spiked immeasurable amounts of anger in Wanda. The slyness of Natasha's smirk and the implication in her glare. Without even having meant to, Wanda’s hand formed into a claw and she dug her nails into the small of your back as her eyes followed the redhead into the building. The pain was sharp and you pulled away at the feeling of Wanda’s nails pressing into your skin. Although she noticed the way you flinched from her painful contact, Wanda only rounded her hand to your hip, pulling you flush against her side.
Without another word, Wanda walked you into the building with her, both of your hips joined. Her fingernails were still digging into your skin, albeit into your hip this time, but the warmth radiating from her, the scent of her perfume, numbed the pain entirely. With her other hand, she fished her classroom keys out of her purse. From what you recalled, Wanda didn’t have a class next period, so you weren’t sure why she was so hurried. Her key nearly slipped from her fingers as she shoved it into the doorknob.
“Wand-”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Wanda gritted out. Her jaw was clenched and her fingers trembled slightly. The edge of her tone startled you, but her evident imbalance made you feel more concerned than intimidated.
She pushed the classroom door open and pulled you in by your waist. The lights were off, but the room was basked warmly by the afternoon sun in shades of orange and red. You stepped into the room, placing your bag down on the table you were sitting on earlier while you listened to Wanda closing the classroom door behind you. When you turned around, the high school teacher was only inches in front of you. Within seconds, her hands were on your hips, pulling you against her body.
Her lips were crushed onto yours, teeth knocking together as her tongue darted out to run against your lips. She tasted like coffee. She smelled eternally of what was identifying itself to you not as perfume, but as something uniquely Wanda Maximoff. Your body stumbled back into the table but Wanda’s tight grip on you kept you upright. Her breasts were pressed flush against yours and you breathed out shakily. Wanda’s hands trailed down from your hips to your ass, squeezing roughly. You squealed softly into her mouth. She forced her tongue into your mouth, though she didn't meet very much resistance to begin with. She explored you with her tongue curiously and without equivocation. A low groan came from her and she lifted one hand to tug at the waistband of your jeans, fingers tucking themselves between the fabric and your soft skin.
“You have no idea…” Wanda whispered against your lips, “how terribly I’ve wanted you to myself since I met you yesterday.” With her hand on your ass and the other wrapped around the waistline of your jeans, she pulled you from the table, led you forward, and collided your back with the classroom’s front door. A sharp gasp winded itself out of you but Wanda was quick to cover your lips with hers again. Her body pushed further into you, hips knocking against yours.
Even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to slip out from between Wanda and the door. But you didn’t try. You didn’t even think about it. You kissed her back with attempts at leverage over the kiss, but she easily took control of you. Your world was enveloped in her. Her scent as she was pushed up against you. The wandering of her hands and their perpetual scratching and groping of every inch of your body she passed over. The pressure of her lips against yours, the intrusion of her tongue, and the moans she let out because she was touching you. All because, finally, she had you for herself.
Wanda took hold of your hand and raised it up to her breast, forcing you to grope her. The feeling of holding her like this drove you just as wild as it did Wanda. Her hips bucked against yours, causing a whimper to escape you at her dangerously close proximity to your core.
“Tell mommy she makes your princess parts all wet,” Wanda huffed out against your ear. The term made you shudder. Her words were filthy and spoken without hesitation. The idea that Wanda was always like this while behaving through composed professionalism made your cunt throb harder. You could barely respond to her with the uninhibited pressure between your legs and the feeling of Wanda pressed up against you. Her every contact with your body made your skin’s sensitivity increase tenfold. You buzzed with desire to be touched. Your other arm raised to wrap around her waist tightly.
Wanda chuckled darkly and she kissed your cheek in admiration. “I’m not a patient woman. But since you’ve been so obedient for mommy, I’ll let your unresponsiveness slide just this once. I’ll check your little pussy myself.” She let go of your hand to trail down your stomach, and your hand switched to her other breast, squeezing tightly. Wanda groaned at your harshness and her hand tucked itself into your jeans. Her hand descended further and her fingers pressed against your clothed centre. The fabric of your panties were damp with your juices and the tips of her fingers ventured deeper into your folds.
You melted in her hold and you let out a long moan, high-pitched with need. Your hips bucked down, desperate for more attention. Wanda pressed her fingernail into your clit in forewarning, her upper lip curling as she pulled away from the crook of your neck to look at you. Your hips jerked back up at the small sting of overstimulation that shot up your centre. She tutted at your impatience. “I don’t like that,” she snapped, her voice low and reprimanding. “Be still and pretty for mommy. That’s how I'd like my little girl. Do you reject this?”
Your head shook immediately, aggressively. “No, no. I’ll listen to you, mommy. I want to make you happy.”
A bright smile pulled at Wanda’s lips at your obedience at your willingness to call her mommy. “You make mommy very happy, princess. Now, be sweet and let me touch your pussy,” she told you and leaned forward to kiss you. The kiss was much softer than the first one, her lips moving over yours gently. The placidity of the kiss’ force might’ve been imagined as impossible after the roughness of Wanda’s previous actions, but she could be a gentle lover as much as she was a force required to be sated. Her fingers softened against your core before carefully raising her hand to tuck them into your panties.
The tips of her fingers ghosted over your slit, your heat quickly enveloping her digits. Wanda leaned forward to kiss your neck, then up the column of your throat. She nipped and sucked at your skin, surely marking you for everyone to see, and she did so proudly. The warmth of her kisses were cooled with her trails of saliva she left against your skin as she moved on to pepper kisses and bites elsewhere.
Her fingers dipped into your folds slowly, teasingly. “Tell me you want it. Show mommy how much of a dirty slut you are for her,” she demanded against your jaw. She bit at your skin, causing you to yelp.
“I want it, mommy,” you whined, eyes screwed together tightly. “I want to be yours.” Your hand rounded her hips, tugging at her dress. Her legs were slowly exposed as you pulled her dress upwards, desperate to touch her too.
“So good to me…” Wanda muttered out and kissed your cheek. Her fingers pushed into your hole, but not before brushing over your clit and making you shudder. Slowly, she eased into you, stretching your walls apart. Wanda sighed breathily at the feeling of your cunt wrapped tightly around her fingers. Her warm exhale tickled your neck. “Just a little bit more, princess,” she encouraged as she inched her middle and ring fingers deeper into you.
She could feel the way you were attempting to untense around her to take Wanda’s fingers like the good little whore you were. “You’re so tight,” Wanda grunted out softly. You could hear hints of an accent when she spoke low like that. It made you wet in ways only Wanda could feel. She angled her wrist to position her fingers straight into you. “Has it been a while since my sweet doll’s been fucked?” She laughed sadistically and your head lolled forward to rest on her shoulder. You nuzzled your face into her neck.
You whimpered out, “Mommy.” Her words were all too true. It’d been so long since you’d been properly fucked, and within seconds, she had you like clay in her arms. When you felt Wanda several inches into your hole, fingers slowly parting inside you to stretch you out, your puffy lips reached her knuckles.
Wanda hummed appreciatively. “There we go, good girl. Mommy’s all in now,” she praised with a smile. She kissed your lips, warm and soft. When she pulled away, the tip of her nose brushed against yours intentionally. The soft gesture juxtaposed the way she began pumping into you. You mewled as her fingers pulled in and out of your tight hole. The tightness of your jeans made it so that Wanda’s palm was pressed against your cunt. The heel of her hand rubbed against your clit.
She sighed in vexation. The apathy of the sigh, the idea that fucking you with her fingers was such a simple action for her, made you moan out. You had no shame in having Wanda treating you like a needy hole and nothing else turn you on. “I got so tired of having people try to take you from me. Half of the staff here would bed you without a second thought if they could. And don’t get me fucking started with Danvers. Would you like that, malysh? To be fucked by anyone other than your mommy?”
You had no clue Wanda had felt so possessive over you. You had noticed the way she glared at Carol while she spoke to you, but the thought that she had been this jealous even before was something you’d never would’ve thought of. “No, mommy. I’m only yours. I don’t want anyone else to touch me. Not Carol, or Nat-”
Wanda took your jaw in her other hand with one swift movement. Her fingers pressed into your cheeks painfully. “I didn’t say anything about Natasha. Are you thinking of her right now?” she snarled. She gave you no more than a second to respond, and when you did not, she let go of your jaw and slapped you across the face. A gasp escaped you at the sudden impact but you continued to take Wanda’s fingers, horny even while being slapped around by her.
“You ungrateful whore,” Wanda hissed. “Mommy’s been so good to you.” She sounded as if she was in genuine anguish, but the way her fingers began to pump into you with increasing force told you otherwise. Pain and pleasure shot through you simultaneously. “I bought my little girl lunch, and I’ve been so gentle with her up until now. Are you telling me that I shouldn’t have done that? Are you telling me that you’re thinking about that Romanoff slut while mommy’s fucking you with her fingers?” Her eyebrows furrowed together and there’s a hint of a pout of her lips.
Her palm slapped across your face again. “Yebanaya shlyukha,” she scolded. You had not a single clue what she had said, but you felt degraded anyways. Through your surprised gasp at the second slap, Wanda forced you to look at her again and spat in your mouth. “Swallow or I slap you again,” she demanded with a clenched jaw. You closed your mouth and swallowed. “You get so wet when mommy hits you, baby. It’s cute.” You flushed at the observation. “Now, tell me, what exactly was she talking about earlier? What was that bitch texting you?”
“N-Nothing important, mommy. Promise.” The speed at which you submitted to Wanda had to have broken some kind of world record.
“Good. Because after this, you’re going to give me your phone and I’m going to read your messages. All of them. Mommy will decide whether or not you still get to talk to Natasha, and anyone else after my princess.” Wanda kissed you again and she felt you nod in understanding. Without warning, she slipped her fingers out of your pussy and you groaned at the empty feeling. You hadn’t known how much Wanda was stretching your walls apart until she took her fingers out of you.
Her other hand raised to entangle her fingers in your hair. She lifted your head up and brought her glistening fingers to your mouth. You had only opened your mouth a centimetre at the sight of her fingers’ position before she pushed her fingers forward into your mouth impatiently. The sudden action made you gag as her long slender fingers slid down your throat. Your tongue lifted to press against her fingers, moaning at the taste of yourself.
“Taste good?” Wanda asked with a sly grin. The sounds of your gags as you tried to accommodate her fingers as they penetrated your throat made Wanda buck her hips forward into yours. She imprinted the noises in her mind, saving it for later when she would miss you. Your eyes were screwed together, trying your best to take Wanda like she wanted you to.
She pulled her fingers out of your mouth and replaced them with her tongue, savouring your flavour with a deep kiss. A groan escaped her at the taste, and she pulled you away from the door with a hand on your hip and the other with a handful of your hair in her fist. Wanda flipped your positions, lips still on yours as the back of your knees hit the edge of her desk. She pushed at your hip, forcing your kiss to break as the front of your thighs were pushed against the desk’s edge.
Wanda leaned in to speak against your ear, her warm breath tickling your neck. “Let mommy fuck your princess parts, darling. Do you know what that means?” she husked out. Your hair smelled so good. You smelled so good. You were so soft and warm in her arms. You were so perfect. Her body embraced you from behind, arms tightened around your waist. You could feel the way she ground herself into your ass. She was so desperate to touch you to the point where she was humping herself against you.
You’re almost entirely sure what she meant, but your mind was too fuzzy to think without Wanda’s guidance. You shook your head.
Wanda cupped your sex through your pants. A whimper escaped you as the pressure of her rough fingers. You were still so sensitive from being stretched out. “This is what it means. Will you let mommy fuck your pretty hole with her dick?”
“Please, mommy. I can take it,” you pleaded. Your head fell back onto Wanda’s shoulder, allowing her more room to kiss your neck. She pressed soft kisses to your pulse points, inhaling your scent deeply.
“Good. Because mommy would’ve fucked you stupid whether you wanted it or not,” Wanda told you. She raised one hand from your hip to place it on your upper back. Without warning, she pushed you forward so you were bent over the desk. Several objects clattered to the ground at the sudden action, but Wanda was unconcerned with them. “Oh, don’t play coy with me, kitten.” Her hand was placed on your head, petting your hair softly before she rounded the desk and nudged your head down roughly when she let go of you. Your hair fell into your face.
Heels clicked against the classroom floor as Wanda walked away from you. You raised your head to look at the older woman. She was rummaging in the tall coat closet behind her desk. “Mommy knows how badly you want her. You’re too little to think for yourself, so let me do it. Mommy knows what's best for you,” she spoke out. Her words were partially muffled as her arms were digging into the depths of the closet, but you heard her every word.
A scarlet red object was pulled out of the closet and you squinted, attempting to figure out what it was that was hanging from her hand. Wanda closed the closet and approached you. As she came closer, the object became clearer. A black harness hung from around her hand. She stopped at your side, lowering the faux cock to your face. It was a strap-on. A rather large one. “You had that in your classroom?”
Wanda noticed your bewilderment and she chuckled. “Indeed. Ever since this morning. You like it?” she asked you, waving it in front of your face teasingly. “I brought it here just for you, after meeting you yesterday. Now, open.” You parted your lips at once. She eased her strap forward then slid it down your throat. Your lips wrapped around it and Wanda smiled at your submission. She fucked your mouth with the strap carefully. Tears formed in your eyes as Wanda eased it further down your throat.
“You fucking whore…” she muttered out. Her words were degrading but her tone was indicative of nothing less than admiration. The strap’s tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you gag. You looked up at Wanda, eyes full of tears and your vision blurred. You lifted yourself up onto your elbows, relaxing your throat further for her cock.
“Mm. That’s good,” Wanda hummed out and scratched at your scalp soothingly with her other hand before she sped up the pace, fucking your mouth with her strap rapidly. The two of you kept going just like that for a few minutes until Wanda slowly pulled her strap out of your throat. You sucked at its tip gingerly once it slipped out of your mouth completely. Once your mouth was completely empty, saliva dripped onto Wanda's desk as you panted, trying to catch your breath. With a smug smile, Wanda ran the tip through your lips. She then straightened and laid it on the desk. She leaned down to reach her hand up her dress and you swallowed, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from the sight.
She slid her panties down her smooth legs and stepped out of them. She balled it up and stuck the lacy black garment into your mouth. It didn’t take long for the sweet, tangy flavour of Wanda’s juices to spread throughout your mouth. You lifted your tongue to run through the fabric, finding the exact spot where her orgasm in the cafe’s washroom spread through her panties. “Of course you’d like having mommy’s panties stuffed in your slutty mouth,” Wanda noted with a proud grin. She kissed your forehead and picked the strap-on up from the desk and lowered it to her ankles to step into it.
Your eyes darted down Wanda’s dress when she leaned down. She was wearing a thin black bra, its lacy pattern matching that of her panties. You could see her erect pink nipples peeking through the black lace and Wanda smirked up at you. Your face flushed at having been caught staring at her like you had been in the staff room the other day.
Wanda straightened again, her dress hanging from around her wrists as she fastened the strap’s harness around her hips. The dark red faux cock stuck out from between her hips and you swallowed at the sight of its size, twinges of panic bubbling up in you at the idea of being fucked by something like that.
“Don’t think too much, moya lyubov,” said Wanda as she rounded you to position herself behind you. Her hands tucked themselves under your sweater and ran up your sides, gripping your torso harshly. You hoped she left bruises. “I’ll have your mind too fucked out to think about anything soon enough. Don’t overwork yourself,” Wanda cooed. She stepped forward so her strap pressed against your ass. Even through your jeans, you could feel her.
Lifting your arms up behind you, Wanda slipped your sweater off, exposing your arms. She threw it to the side somewhere. You heard its zipper clink against the classroom floor. You felt hands round your hips to unbutton your jeans, and with one swift movement, Wanda tugged your jeans from your thighs and let it pool around your ankles.
Wanda leaned down to press kisses to your ass, then lower to kiss your clit through your panties, inhaling the scent of your arousal. She licked a stripe up your clothed cunt, moaning at the way your flavour spread across her tongue even through the soaked garment. You were so wet for her. She pressed another kiss dangerously close to your outer lips and she straightened again. She pulled your panties down so it laid atop of your jeans.
Her lips parted and she leaned back. “Look at this…” Wanda mused and tucked her thumb between your folds, parting them and exposing your heat to the cold air of the classroom. “You have such a pretty pink pussy, baby.” Her thumb pressed into your hole teasingly before placing both hands on your waist. Your position was humiliating. You were bent over the cold desk in Wanda’s classroom, your ass completely exposed to her. You had little to no control over your own body, over your own mind. As Wanda’s cock laid between the valley between your asscheeks, you couldn’t imagine a future for yourself beyond being fucked stupid her.
You closed your eyes, trying to place as much focus as you could to what Wanda was doing behind you because you couldn’t see her. She slowly slid her cock through your folds, then positioned the tip of it against your hole. Without warning, Wanda slid the entirety of her dick into you, causing you to jerk forward and cry out at the sharp pain that shot through you, her panties still stuffed in your mouth. Your arm reached forward to grip the opposite end of the desk, pushing a hand-in basket to the ground. Sheets of student assignments fluttered to the ground.
“Don’t be an ungrateful brat, detka,” Wanda hissed out and leaned forward to take hold of your wrist, removing your grip around the edge of the desk. She pulled both of your arms back and held your wrists down against your lower back. She used the leverage to pull your ass against her hips with every thrust. Wanda removed the gag from your mouth and tossed her panties to the side somewhere. “That would’ve hurt so much more if mommy didn’t stretch your tight little pussy out earlier. Can’t you just be grateful for once? You hurt mommy’s feelings.” You could hear the feigned pout Wanda put on as she spoke.
Her hips snapped into you swiftly with incredible amounts of force. You supposed she was right. As painfully as her thick cock was spreading your hole open, you imagined you wouldn’t be taking her as well as you were if Wanda hadn’t spent the time to stretch you out earlier.
“I’m sorry, mommy,” you panted out, desperate to make it up to her even while you were quickly losing more and more of your own autonomy. As much as you wanted to be good for her, your walls were taking much longer to wrap around her than you anticipated. Wanda's was the biggest cock you'd ever taken. “It hurts…”
“Shut the fuck up and take mommy’s cock like a good girl. Be patient and let me use your pretty hole,” Wanda snapped. She took a bundle of your hair into her fist, pulling you further backwards and arching your back. It gave her a greater advantage to pound into you harder. "You're so fucking dramatic," she husked out into your ear.
“Mommy… Ah! Slo-w, please.”
Wanda raised her hand up to her ear and swung it back down to spank your ass before letting go of your hair. She leaned forward so her front cocooned your back as she pushed your face into the desk, her hand still on the back of your head. She whispered into your ear breathlessly, “Mommy can do whatever she wants. I own this pussy. Don’t you want to make me happy?” Her thrusts into you were ruthless, taking not even a single moment’s break since she first entered you. Wanda grunted into your ear softly with every snap of her hips. She buried her face into the crook of your neck.
Your whines and complaints soon became infrequent, then entirely nonexistent as pain dissipated to sole pleasure. Moans, high-pinched and needy, escaped you without restraint, although Wanda frequently pinched your clit to remind you to be quieter. Even though the classroom door was locked and her desk wasn’t in view from the door’s window, there was always a chance that your sounds would echo down the school’s hallways. The two of you were already taking a great risk with the rapid slapping of your skin.
A voice suddenly called into the classroom, “Ms Maximoff? Are you in there?” Everything in you froze, a dozen weights being dropped into your stomach.
Wanda grunted in annoyance at Carol’s presence. Her hips jerked forward rougher than the steady pattern she had been keeping earlier. “Mm. Miss Danvers has a spare this period. Should I ignore her, sweetheart?” she asked you, sounding condescendingly sweet.
You nodded immediately, your face still pressed into the desk as your hair remained grasped tightly in Wanda’s fist.
Wanda responded instantly as if she had just been waiting for your response in order to purposefully do the exact opposite of what you’d tell her. “I’m in here, darling!” She smirked down at you.
“Have you seen Y/N? I was looking forward to speaking to her about something after lunch, but I can’t seem to find her. Ms Romanoff told me she’d be with you,” Carol responded. Your mind was too fuzzy, your body buzzing pleasantly as you let Wanda fuck you the way she wanted to, to have heard the shy apprehension in Carol’s voice. But Wanda heard it clearly. The teenager truly was crushing hard on you.
Wanda let go of your hair and groped your breast harshly, her every irritation caused by the blonde athlete evident in the way she fucked you. She was fucking into you harder now, her eyes glaring at the classroom door as if she was about to burn holes right through it. Wanda focused back onto you and with her arm wrapped around your torso and the other around your hips, she lifted you up so you were being hugged by Wanda from behind. No matter the positions the two of you took, Wanda’s thrusts never faltered once. She twisted at your nipple painfully and pinched at your clit, and all you could do was lay against her like a good girl, hushed moans and mewls escaping you.
“In other words, she wants to fuck your needy cunt too. Do you want her, detka? I’ll call Carol in for you and take my cock out of your cunt.” Wanda was so possessive over you. The mere thought of anyone else but her wanting you drove her mad. You were hers to fuck, to masturbate to, to adore. Her perfect girl.
“I don’t want that, mommy. I only want you, please,” you begged, pushing your ass into her lap. Wanda grinned at your eagerness. You were such a filthy whore; your mind was almost completely fucked out, yet you still had enough in you to fuck yourself on her cock.
Wanda unwrapped her arms from around you suddenly, pushing you back down onto the desk as if you were a lifeless fuckdoll solely for your mommy to use. You let out a small whine at the impact. “You’re too little to make your own decisions, baby,” she told you, manicured black nails running down your lower back. “I’ll breed your fucking pussy and stuff you full of my cum so you’re mine forever. This is not a one-time thing, malysh. I’m going to force you to have my fucking children and you’ll be my pretty little housewife for the rest of your life. It matters little to me whether or not you want it.”
Her name tumbled from your mouth between breathless moans. You felt yourself nod obediently against the cold expanse of the desk. Images of being Wanda’s housewife flashed in your mind. Falling asleep in her arms, being the only thing Wanda thought about the very moment before deep slumber, and when she awoke in the morning with you cuddled into her chest. Having her come home after a tense day at work to let her stress out on you, slapping your face around as she fucked your tight hole until you were a shaking mess, and perhaps even while you were asleep, stopping only when she was satisfied.
You’d do anything to make that your reality.
“Tell that slut to leave and I’ll let you cum,” said Wanda. Her fingernails dug deeper into your skin and you wondered if she was pricking blood out of you. The thought was brief as your mind quickly zeroed in on one goal, and one goal only- cum on Wanda’s cock.
You tried your best to talk as if you didn’t have Wanda fucking you from behind, “Carol.”
“Oh, you’re in there?” the blonde responded. There was a rattle at the door.
Wanda chuckled at the horror that struck your face when you had forgotten for a moment that the door was locked.
“It’s locked!” Carol called back cluelessly.
You felt guilt clawing at you. She was such a nice girl, and-
“Can’t you do anything on your own? Or does mommy have to do it for you?” Wanda snapped from behind you.
“Sorry, Carol, I’ll have to… Mm!” You winced, pushing your ass further into Wanda’s hips. “Mommy…” you pleaded under your breath. Whether you were begging for her to fuck you harder, or to slow down entirely, you did not know.
Wanda’s hips were pounding into you faster, skin slapping as her hands forced your body down onto the desk. “You’re such a fucking whore, baby,” she whispered. Her fingers run goosebumps up against your back before she leaned forward to lay against you. She kissed your neck. Your hips were being pushed into the edge of the table, making them sting painfully. But you hardly paid any mind to it.
“Y/N? A-Are you okay?” Carol asked from outside.
Wanda pulled you up against her then spun you around. “Y/N has her hands tied, darling. You’ll have to come back later,” she answered for you. Under the door, Carol’s shadow disappeared dejectedly. You smiled gratefully at her and laid your head on her shoulder. Wanda hushed you and kissed the side of your head. “That’s a good girl. You tried your hardest to please mommy,” she cooed.
You nodded into the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her waist as tight as you could manage. She smelled nice.
Wanda fisted your hair into her hand and pulled you up with her, forcing you to step out of your garments that had still been pooling at your ankles. Her cock slid out of you and she turned you around, kissing you until she pushed you against the closet behind her desk. She lifted your leg up, hooking her arm under your knee to allow her more access to pound into you. Her strap slid into you again with ease and she picked up her pace, fast and unrelenting. You were so full. She slid her hand under your black tank, pulling your bra down to grope harshly at your breast.
“Now, you can cum. My perfect princess. Make mommy happy.” Wanda whispered countless other soft praises into your ear, and your arms tightened around her waist, sole dependency on Wanda forming within you. She twisted your nipple painfully. Her long hair fanned out down your shoulders as she kissed your neck, nipping at every inch of your skin her mouth could reach.
Her thrusts became sloppier as she drew closer to her own high. She panted into your ear, letting you hear how close she was. Your hands tucked themselves under Wanda’s dress and found her ass, squeezing and pulling her into you. Wanda groaned in appreciation and bit at your earlobe with her teeth teasingly. While you pulled her hips into you, Wanda was able to grind her clit into the harness of her strap, bringing herself even closer to her own summit.
“Mommy, I’m going to cum,” you whimpered out, squeezing your eyes together tightly.
“Cum for me, princess,” Wanda said and kissed your cheek before continuing to moan into your ear. She hooked her arm under your knee more firmly, her nails scratching at the side of your thigh. She tucked her hand between your stomachs, then between your hips, where her fingers found your clit. With four fingers, she rubbed against your erect mound swiftly. If Wanda hadn’t tightened her grip around your leg a moment ago, you would’ve long melted to the floor like jelly.
You laid your head against Wanda’s. Your body was completely limp as you got your hole fucked relentlessly. Wanda scratched at you. She took the skin of your neck and collarbone between her teeth, then ran her tongue across each bite before kissing up your marked skin hastily. You could feel the way Wanda was grinding against the leather base of her strap’s harness as she was inching towards an orgasm.
Wanda raised your head from the crook of her shoulder and rested her forehead atop of yours, your eyes meeting viridescent orbs. Her eyes screwed together as she struggled out, “I’m coming! Fu-Fuck! Princess, I’m-”
Her fingers' movement against your clit slowed as did her hips, and her very last thrust before she was pushed over her edge was what you needed to reach your own hilt.
“That’s right, cum on my dick you fucking whore,” Wanda grunted out laboredly against your cheek through her climax. You raised your other hand to her shoulder. Your fingers dug into her, sharp pain shooting through to her skin, your fingernails piercing through the sleeve of her dress.
Wanda leaned forward to capture your lips with hers weakly. The two of you moaned into each other’s open mouths as you rode out your orgasm together, walls tightening around Wanda’s cock that was still shakily thrusting into your cunt. She took your bottom lip between her teeth, tugging at it as she pulled away.
There was a hazy but smug grin on her face. Wanda’s hands found your hips, letting your leg drop to your other. She pulled you from the closet door, leading you back to her desk. “My little baby can’t do anything without mommy, huh?” she said against your forehead before pressing a kiss there. With your face nuzzled in the crook of her neck, your arms were wrapped around her waist, completely dependent on her as your body trembled with the last tremors of your orgasm.
With her hands on your ass, Wanda lifted you up onto her desk. The slick that was sticky against your inner thighs dripped onto the desk’s cold expanse. Wanda pulled back from you and your arms tightened around her.
“No, don’t leave me, mommy,” you blabbered out desperately, burying your face further into her neck. Your mind was so light and fuzzy as you embraced the older woman.
Wanda laughed and kissed the top of your head. Her pretty princess was so needy. It was adorable. “Not gonna leave you, puppy. Just going to take my cock out of you, okay?” she reassured. You nodded and loosened your grip around her so Wanda could release the harness from around her hips. Her strap, glistening with your cum, dropped onto your pile of clothes. She wrapped an arm around your waist and stepped into the space between your thighs and with her fingers, she drew gentle shapes along your spine. With her other hand, she pet your hair soothingly.
“That was wonderful, baby,” Wanda told you and laid her head atop yours. “My little girl took mommy’s cock so well. Mommy’s perfect whore.” Her praises made you feel all warm inside. A satisfied, nonsensical murmur came from you, to which Wanda hushed. “Don’t talk. Just let mommy hold you, baby. Moya dorogaya devochka.”
“But you have a class…” you tried to protest.
There was about fifteen minutes before Wanda's next class started, and realistically, the two of you should’ve been getting ready soon. But Wanda didn’t want to do anything but hold her little girl, even if only for five more minutes. “We’ll think about that later. For now, just do what mommy says, baby.” From then on out, you were Wanda’s. Entirely hers. And she would do well to let everyone know about it. “You’re mine.”
“I know, mommy,” you uttered out happily against her neck before hugging her close to you.
Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader
summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.
*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.
warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;
Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!
“Are you willing to sacrifice?”
His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.
The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.
You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for.
When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come.
Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.
Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold.
If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve.
Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.
But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness.
You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.
Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war.
Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king.
When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.
Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped.
Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.
Leshy.
You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.
For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.
Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole.
Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.
Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination.
He was that, but also… not.
He reminded a human man, but only at first glance.
Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos.
From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn.
“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.”
The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat.
“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.
“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent.
“And you are?” He asked, courtly.
When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet.
As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen.
More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg.
As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic.
Beautiful, as nature itself.
“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.”
Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant.
Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.
A god of the forest.
After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.
“None of that is necessary.” He assured you.
Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study.
“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips.
His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away.
You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.
“What have you come here for, little fern?”
“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”
Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.
When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers.
He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.
“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you.
He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.
It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.
“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.”
“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival.
You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.
Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.
“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.
“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.
He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer.
“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.
“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.”
You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it.
Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice.
No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.
“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”
You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence.
Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his.
“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”
Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.
“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused.
Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list.
Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.
Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest.
“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled.
“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests.
Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body.
Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling.
Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw.
“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom.
Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.
Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.
“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.”
You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.
“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves.
“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.”
Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed.
When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.
He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you.
“Are you willing to sacrifice?”
His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.
The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.
Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind.
You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends.
You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out.
Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers.
“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it.
His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.
“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance.
When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor.
Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition.
Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain.
You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact.
If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it.
Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.
Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding.
He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset.
“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out.
Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs.
It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory.
You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.
Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain.
Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant.
As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.
“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice.
The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs.
None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.
“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.”
You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.
“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?”
Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.
“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”
“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth.
“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down.
“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”
By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him.
After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body.
You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers.
When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly.
The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain.
And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs.
It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive.
When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.
And so you demanded it.
Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods.
Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body.
THAT FIRST SITE IS EVERY WRITER’S DREAM DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE TRIED WRITING SOMETHING AND THOUGHT GOD DAMN IS THERE A SPECIFIC WORD FOR WHAT I’M USING TWO SENTENCES TO DESCRIBE AND JUST GETTING A BUNCH OF SHIT GOOGLE RESULTS
Evaaaaa, do you maybe have any thots on Captain Hydra!Steve? 👀 Perhaps being his little toy that is gifted to him for being such a good soldier? 🫠
Do I have any thoughts on Captain Hydra!Steve?
Dark, dominating, sizzling hot Captain Hydra!Steve?
who may be evil, but he's competent, smart, lethal and looks so fucking hot in that dark, tight suit;
whom you always tried to impress, though at times it seemed impossible, because he rarely shows any kind of appreciation for the soldiers and agents he's leading;
whose firm voice always makes you a bit scared, but also kinda aroused?
He keeps mostly to himself, never allowing any sort of closer relations with anyone, but sometimes would linger doing training sessions and personally give calm pointers (to those deserving, which were only a few);
He takes you by surprise when he tells you to follow him after one of the successful fights;
you really hope it's going to be a promotion you've been working your ass off to earn, dreaming of a higher rank, or perhaps some leadership role for another mission;
Your nerves heighten when Steve leads you to his personal headquarters, but you tell yourself that this really has to be about a promotion, because Captain never shies away from voicing his displeasure with failures in public, so the others could hear and witness humiliation;
your heart truly elates when he announces "It's time you were given a properly suited position for you";
but then you hear the sound of automatic door being sealed behind you, trapping you in Captain's quarters without any chance of getting out (not that you would stand a chance, if he wanted to kill you);
Trying to appear calm, you manage not to stutter as you voice your eagerness to take on any new responsibilities out there in the field;
but Steve's chuckle evokes dread as he slowly steps closer;
"This is your battlefield now, little sparrow. And I'm your conqueror."
You don't dare to step away when he cups your cheek - the act deceivingly tender, though his eyes are cold and glint with heartless triumph;
He pushes you to your knees and forces your face into his crotch, the scent of him permeating thick fabric of his tactic suit and filling your nostrils;
"Show me how eager you are," he ruts into your face, "how dutiful and obedient you're going to be for your Captain."
summary: Wanda edges you, and you take it all like a good girl.
content warnings: whew, there’s a lot. Cunnilingus, fingering, choking, collar and leash play, choking, edging, spreader bar, restraints, overstimulation, vibrator, strap-on, passing out
word count: 4.6k+
masterlist
A/N: This was requested by @mrsromanovaa ! You can find the original request here.
comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡
Soon, Darling
“On the bed, darling. You know how I like you.”
Wanda’s voice is firm, her accent rolling over each syllable as you attempt to not shiver at the command. Without speaking, you nod once and move your shaky legs towards the massive bed in the center of the room. Approving green eyes watch your movement, even as her face remains unreadable.
Taking a few calming breaths, you position yourself on top of the soft comforter. You’re thankful for its dark maroon color, sure that you must be dripping as you move onto your back. After all, Wanda hadn’t been subtle with her teasing glances and forward touches throughout your date night. She knew which buttons to press, what words to say, and which times to whisper directly in your ear as you shivered beneath her.
Even thinking about the evening the two of you had shared brought a pleasant warm buzz to your chest, and you refused to acknowledge what that buzz could mean. Shaking yourself from your rapidly spiraling thoughts, you smiled gently at your girlfriend, pleased at the wink you received in return. Excitement filled you as she moved to kneel on the foot of the bed, her fingers grazing your ankles as her eyes began to glow scarlet.
Oh yeah, your girlfriend had totally awesome powers. And, she wasn't shy about using them around you. Suck on that, Vision.
Wanda twisted her fingers, an object slapped into the palm of her hand, and all thoughts of her ex boyfriend left your mind as you realized what she held. The two of you had talked in depth about different things to try in the bedroom, but seeing it in person was slightly terrifying. But, also incredibly arousing at the same thing.
You refused to think about what that meant for your psyche.
The spreader bar was placed between your spread ankles, Wanda’s knees just barely touching it as she began to run her hands over your calves, fingers light and teasing. Oh, you were definitely dripping now.
Evidently, Wanda could either see the evidence right before her eyes, a smile creeping onto her face as you willingly spread your legs further for her, or she could smell it. That was one of her favorite phrases to say, and one that never failed to turn you on even more than you already were.
“God, you smell divine. Is that all for me?” She’d ask, and you’d somehow find yourself giving her every part of you that you had to offer. Sometimes you wondered how the events of an evening had unfolded, your brain went a little bit too fuzzy sometimes, only remembering how you felt during the experience. Wanda would reassure you, telling you that subspace was normal and nothing to be afraid of, and of course, you believed her.
“Darling?”
Ah, there you went again. Getting trapped in your own head. It wasn’t your fault that you got lost in a train of thought. Or, maybe it was. Actually, thinking about it, it was totally your fault because it was your own head, right? And-
“Focus, love.” Wanda’s voice cut through your inner monologue, halting your thoughts immediately. In the space of a millisecond, you felt your brain get squeezed through a tube, the bedroom becoming sharper as you seemed to re-enter your own body. Green eyes peered down at you, searching your own as Wanda’s fingers gently stroked your face.
“Sorry, I,” You didn’t get the chance to speak, Wanda’s finger pressing gently against your lips, understanding in her eyes.
“It’s alright darling, are you ready to continue?” Her voice was low, reminding you of the heat pooling in your gut. You felt another wave of arousal, and nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” Wanda smiled approvingly, and you were grateful for the single lamp that glowed warmly in the corner of the room. At least she wouldn’t be able to see most of the blush that spread across your cheeks. Then again, judging by her knowing gaze, she definitely knew what her words did to you.
Moving slowly, as if not to scare you, Wanda moved her hands firmly up and down your calves. It seemed almost as if she was giving you a massage, but when she grasped one ankle firmly while bringing one end of the spreader bar towards it, you knew that you were in for a long night.
“Too tight?”
You shook your head, eyes wide as you experimentally flexed your ankle. The strap attached to you didn’t budge, and you could feel the tension of the metal rod as Wanda moved to attach the rest of the spreader bar to your other ankle. She gripped the middle of the metal, giving it an experimental tug.
Your body jolted, hips moving closer towards your girlfriend as she pulled you closer by the spreader bar. Her smile was nothing short of wicked, and you shivered at the hungry look in her eyes as they roamed your helpless body. At least your hands were free.
Wanda gave you a look, twisting her fingers once again as your wrists were wrapped in scarlet wisps and pulled tight against the headboard. You sighed, of course she was in your head, the tricky little witch.
“Behave.” She commanded, and you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes, knowing that would only bring punishment. You really didn’t want that, not after the hours of teasing she’d put you through during dinner.
“Please, Wanda.”
“That’s not my name.” Her eyes were hot, fixed on your body as you squirmed slightly beneath her watchful gaze. The tension rolling in your gut was becoming overwhelming, and your clit throbbed as you feebly thrusted your hips towards her.
“Please…” You begged, taking a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat.
Raising a single eyebrow, Wanda tilted her head. Your heart jump started, racing once again at the movement. Her hands moved teasingly over your inner thighs, fingers mere centimeters away from your messy pussy. She was teasing you, the promise of her fingers finally granting you the relief you so desperately needed sending you over the edge of embarrassment.
“Mommy…” You knew it sounded pathetic, but you couldn’t really control how your voice sounded at the moment.
Wanda was pleased, a low sounding hum reverberating through her chest as she thought about her next moves. You waited patiently, knowing that this was the moment that she would decide if she was going to tease you for the rest of the night, or give in and pleasure you until you begged her to stop.
Both options sounded great to you, so you weren’t too worried about the outcome of her decision.
Deciding to test the strength of the newest restraint, you tried to push your ankles together. Your legs didn’t move an inch, and you realized that you were well and truly fucked if Wanda decided to tease you. There was no escaping, no matter how hard you tried.
Again, you really didn’t want to think about what that could possibly mean.
“I think,” Wanda started, and your ears immediately perked up. “I think that I need a blindfold.”
After announcing that very helpful and definitely not-at-all frustrating announcement, Wanda got off the bed, smirking at you as she made her way into your shared walk-in closet. You sighed, throwing your head against the pillows as you tried to control your reaction to her words. You knew exactly which drawer she was rummaging around in, and thinking about the multitude of toys within it made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Anything to reduce the unbearable ache between your legs.
Oh, wait. You couldn’t. Wanda had made sure of that with a high quality spreader bar. You moved your legs again, realizing the only thing you could do was bring your knees towards your chest. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to fully close.
Giving up, you steadfastly ignored the rush of arousal accompanied by juices flowing from your pussy at the knowledge that your legs were permanently open for your girlfriend. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way. More arousal leaked down your inner thighs, and you smirked at the thought of what Wanda would say when she found a puddle of your own arousal beneath you.
“You know,” Wanda’s voice startled you, and your eyes greedily took in her naked form as she made her way towards you. You didn’t imagine the extra sway to her hips, and you licked your lips as she moved to kneel beside you on the bed.
Cold hands caressed your face briefly before Wanda placed a strip of fabric securely over your eyes, tying the back of it tightly as you raised your head helpfully. She continued speaking, even as you felt her weight shifting around on the mattress.
“I’ve been thinking,” She moved towards your ankles, settling herself between your legs. Her hands gripped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kneading the muscles. “I want to use my mouth tonight, my tongue feels restless.”
You groaned, the sound coming out as more of a moan as Wanda chuckled somewhere near your drenched pussy. The last time she’d used her mouth, you almost passed out from the sheer amount of pleasure she had brought you, your clit over sensitive for the rest of the evening.
Before you could properly prepare yourself, her tongue was pressed against you. She moaned, the vibrations hitting you perfectly as you tried not to roll your hips.
Wanda liked it when you were still, or at least attempting to be still. She’d spent weeks training you, edging you for each movement you made while she slowly traced your clit with a single finger. You knew better than to move your hips while she was pleasuring you.
But holy fuck did it feel good.
It was almost enough for you to forget yourself, and forget all the training that Wanda had drilled into you. But you refrained, wanting to be as good as possible for her. After all, bad girls didn’t get to cum.
You wanted to cum. Very, very badly.
Wanda began flicking her tongue against your clit, the deep ache within you rising like a wildfire. The flames of your orgasm licked at your skin, and you let out a long moan that was supposed to be a plea. You felt her chuckle against you, her fingers digging into your hips as she buried her face deeper against your swollen pussy.
Certain that you would find bruises all over your hips the next morning, you experimentally shifted your weight. The steady pressure of Wanda’s tongue against your protruding clit stopped, and you choked down the complaint that threatened to escape you.
“Why did you move, sweetheart?” Wanda’s eyes gazed imploringly at you, but you wouldn’t fall for it. Her tone was sugary sweet, but you sensed a trap. “Didn’t mommy teach you better?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You winced at how breathy you sounded. It was pathetic, but Wanda’s fingers relaxed slightly from their tight grip on your hips, so you continued. “I forgot myself, you just make me feel too good, mommy. You’re very talented with your tongue, please do it some more.”
You felt like it was a bit overboard, but Wanda seemed satisfied and you were willing to do almost anything to cum. Strong fingers twitched against you, and you stiffened as you realized that Wanda was still in your thoughts.
‘Emphasis on the word almost.’
A small smirk worked its way onto Wanda’s face, even though you couldn’t see it, but you felt it against you as she began sloppily making out with your glistening pussy. Her tongue slipped roughly against your clit as your juices coated her chin. You were like a drug to her, your taste both invigorating and addicting at the same time.
Wanda couldn’t get enough. She could stay between your thighs for hours, reading your body language with each new stroke of her tongue, the sounds of your sighs and whispered moans wrapping around her head and pulling her headfirst into the very essence of you.
It took everything in her to pull away from you, the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm too overwhelming to ignore. Besides, she wanted to play with you for a little while. Also, you were adorable when you panted and tried not to squirm, chasing the last few droplets of pleasure she could draw from you before pulling fully away.
“Mommy, please…” Your voice was whiny, and it only took a millisecond before you realized your mistake.
“Good girls don’t complain,” Wanda summoned something, a piece of fabric that you couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes bore into yours as she continued, “Mommy doesn’t want to hear that, and you know better. Haven’t I been good to you? Aren’t I making you feel good? Soon, darling.”
Before you could say anything, the fabric she was holding was stuffed into your open mouth. Letting out a soft grunt as you readjusted your jaw, you stifled a moan as the taste of Wanda’s arousal hit your tongue.
Pulling off the beautiful form fitting dress she wore, Wanda smirked as you realized what piece of clothing she’d summoned. She felt a wave of possessiveness enter your mind as you eagerly sucked on her ruined panties, your thoughts swirling at the knowledge that you had made her this wet.
Pulling your ankles up, Wanda slipped between the spreader bar and your body, letting the backs of your thighs rest atop her own as she kneeled before you. Her hand drifted, teasing fingers tracing your hip bone as she admired the glistening heat between your legs.
Letting her gaze travel over your body, she admired every inch of your skin as she made her way towards your face. Wanda knew that she would never get tired of looking at you, her eyes eagerly taking in every curve and contour of your body, mapping out different paths as you flushed beneath her.
Green eyes finally met yours, and you saw her smile. Her fingers brushed over your mound, grazing your clit and collecting some of the wetness pooling between your thighs. A single finger traced your slit, teasing you as she chuckled.
“Did you want something?”
You let out a huff of air through your nose, tilting your head as you stared at her. Taking a chance, you let your hips move slightly. It was just enough to wordlessly plead with her, begging her to soothe the ache between your legs.
A single finger entered you in one thrust, burying itself knuckle deep in your pussy, and you nearly sobbed in relief. You let out a long moan, letting Wanda know just how pleased you were, and missed the smirk that flashed across her face. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back as she began to move at a steady pace, curling her finger every so often and grazing that spot inside you that sent bolts of pleasure coursing through you.
It was just enough, the perfect pace to sate the hunger that had been slowly building within you.
The thrusts increased, Wanda adding a second finger as she watched your face contort around the makeshift gag. The pleasure changed, becoming overwhelming as your orgasm attempted to rise. You knew by now that Wanda wasn’t going to let you cum just yet, and despaired at the thought of being brought to the edge again.
“Mnnfh, plmh mmhmm.” Your attempt at words turned into a groan, and Wanda let out a low hum. Her other hand reached up, wrapping around your throat loosely as she curled her fingers inside of you.
“Soon, darling.”
The pleasure just kept building, your clit throbbing as it begged for attention. If she would just touch it, anything would help you fall over the edge. It took everything in you to not roll your hips, any attempt at repositioning so Wanda’s hand would go where you wanted would be met with a complete absence of touch.
Pleased at your self restraint, Wanda gave a few more deep thrusts before removing her fingers completely. Before you could whine, or even process her movement, she tore her panties from your parted lips, shoving her fingers onto your waiting tongue as she bent down.
The taste of your own arousal hit you, mixing pleasantly with the aftertaste of Wanda’s juices. Then, you felt a tongue licking gently at your aching pussy, collecting as much of your arousal as it could. You felt her tease your clit, circling it softly, and lamented at the lack of pressure.
Wanda worked you up again, her fingers slowly moving in and out of your mouth as your tongue swirled around them. It was an effective gag, small moans escaping you as her tongue steadily applied more pressure. Your orgasm reappeared, and you desperately wished that you could close your legs around Wanda’s head. Anything to keep her where you needed her most.
Almost as if she was reading your mind (oh, wait), Wanda pulled away. Pleasure coursed through you, fading quickly as the stimulation ended, and you let out a whimper.
“Color?” Wanda asked, her voice soft as her fingers twisted again. A vibrator floated into her grasp, your eyes tracking it as you uttered a muffled ‘green’. You recognized that toy, it was one of Wanda’s favorites. The settings were adjustable using a knob, so she could set it at any intensity she wanted.
“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asked, pulling her fingers from you briefly to let you respond. You opened your mouth, the pleas about to spill out, when the vibrator was placed directly against your clit.
Jolting, you breathed heavily, and Wanda just raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t even turned the toy on yet, but just the smallest amount of pressure against your throbbing clit was sending you headfirst into subspace.
“Yes, please.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, the only thing in your fuzzy mind was the thought of finally falling over that edge. The one she’d kept you on for hours. The one that would rack your body with pleasure, the edge that only your girlfriend could help you fall over.
The vibrator clicked on, and you felt your legs start to shake. Wanda’s hand held the toy firmly against your clit, her other gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. You recognized the setting as relatively low, but it still sent pleasure shooting through what seemed like every nerve in your body.
“Would you like to try something, darling?” Wanda asked, and you struggled to try and respond. She continued, “We talked about it earlier this week, remember the package we ordered?”
Your eyes lit up in recognition, a feeble nod the only thing you could manage. You remembered the soft red collar and leash that you both had liked, but hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon.
“Call it an early Christmas gift.” Wanda’s voice was soft, full of caring as she watched your reaction.
“I want to try it,” You said, your voice as strong as you could make it. Wanda’s eyes lit up, crinkling at the edges as she smiled widely at you. Evidently, she thought that the perfect response was cranking up the vibrations against your clit.
You shuddered beneath her, hands grasping uselessly at the magical restraints as the pleasure became overwhelming. You were mere seconds away from your orgasm, you could feel the beginning stages of it creeping up on you as your muscles went rigid.
Wanda pulled away, and your clit protested by pulsing rapidly. She paid you no mind, letting you thrust your hips feebly as she summoned a few more items. They all moved to rest neatly on the bed, and Wanda held up the red collar.
Her touch was almost reverent, stroking the soft leather and ensuring that it wouldn’t bite into your sensitive skin. Your eyes locked on it, watching as she brought it closer to your neck. Nodding your consent, you felt your heart race wildly as she fastened it securely.
Two fingers curled around the leather, sticking themselves between the collar and your skin to ensure it wasn’t too tight. Tugging experimentally, Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours when you let out a moan.
“That felt really good.” You breathed out, pupils blown as Wanda gave it another tug. This one was more forceful, and you felt your clit throb as more of your arousal leaked onto the mattress.
The smile on Wanda’s face should have scared you, it was dark and wide. Ideas and fantasies swirled behind her green irises, but the only thing you felt was excitement. And extreme arousal, but what’s new?
Metal clinked, and you watched in anticipation as Wanda clipped the leash to the gold loop attached to the front of the collar. She wrapped the leash around her hand, once and then twice.
“Fuck.” You almost didn’t realize that you had spoken, the word slipping out as Wanda gave the harshest tug yet.
A scene of Wanda tugging the leash while fucking you from behind flashed behind your eyelids as you took some steadying breaths. You longed to feel the collar pressing against your throat, whenever Wanda would use her hand to choke you, it always made your orgasm much more powerful. It really heightened all of the sensations you felt, and you couldn’t wait to use the collar more often.
“Would you like to try that, darling?” Wanda’s voice filtered through your thoughts, and you flushed as you remembered her presence in your mind.
“Yes, please.” You sounded eager, your eyes bright as Wanda chuckled and twisted her fingers once again.
After some maneuvering, you were on your front. Your hands were still securely attached to the headboard by unrelenting wisps of scarlet magic. Wanda urged you to your knees, the spreader bar making it impossible to close your legs.
Something pressed against you from behind, and you immediately remembered the strap-on that Wanda had brought over. Either she had already lubed up, or you were soaked, because she slid the entire length of the toy into you in one stroke.
A moan escaped you, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into at the feeling of her strap fully inside you. It was everything you’d been waiting for, your walls clinging to the toy as she began snapping her hips. Fucking into you, Wanda experimentally tugged on the leash, and your head rose unwillingly from the pillow.
“Oh,” She said, her voice raspy as she tugged again. A strangled whimper sounded out, a gush of wetness hitting her thighs as she easily slid in and out of your slick pussy. “I like this collar on you very much.”
“This was a great idea,” You agreed, all your senses heightened as she choked you from behind.
With white knuckles, Wanda pulled on the leash as hard as she dared, not wanting to go too far during your first time using the collar. Using it as leverage, she angled her hips, thrusting deeper inside you, the toy hitting your g-spot perfectly.
Your orgasm builds once more, pleasure spreading from your over-used pussy to the rest of your trembling body. Words left your mouth, but you couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. It was most likely broken pleas and moans, a desperate attempt at convincing Wanda to let you cum.
You knew you wouldn’t be able to cum without her permission, or even without her helping fall over the edge. Sure, you’d tried masturbating, even though it was explicitly against her rules. However, you weren’t able to make yourself cum, not after your body had gotten used to Wanda’s touch.
“Please, mommy. Please let me cum. I’ve… fuck. I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? I really want to cum, I can’t take it anymore. Please, no more edging.” Your voice gave out quickly, moans replacing your words as Wanda seemed to fuck you harder.
“Fuck,” Wanda grunted, tugging the leash again. “You have been good for me, darling. And because you begged so prettily for me, I’ll let you cum.”
Her next words were muttered right in your ear. “You can cum as many times as you want.” She placed a harsh kiss against your neck, most definitely leaving a bruise that would last for days. Then, she kneeled up straight, her hips snapping steadily as the strap forced every drop of pleasure out from your aching pussy.
“Cum.”
Almost as if your body had been waiting for that command, your orgasm washed over you. It was unrepentant, waves of pleasure racking your body as you all but collapsed. Wanda’s firm hold on your leash kept you from suffocating yourself in the pillows, the sensation of being choked only heightening your orgasm. Everything felt more vivid, Wanda’s fingernails digging into your hip, her strap slamming into your gushing pussy, your nipples dragging along the silky fabric beneath you with each thrust.
Wanda’s hold on the leash slackened, and you sucked in deep breaths as blood rushed to your head. Your orgasm kept dragging on, the constant stimulation from the strap-on triggering a second one.
The hum of a vibrator sounded out, and you half whimpered and half moaned. Your clit throbbed, and you wanted to scream. Wanda placed the vibrator against it, the sensitive nub having emerged from its hood a long time ago.
White stars filled your vision, your limbs turning to jelly as a third, powerful orgasm ripped through you. The waves of pleasure quickly turned painful, Wanda’s hips not slowing for a second as she twisted the knob higher on the vibrator.
You came again.
And again.
Pain and pleasure melded together. The only thing you could sense was Wanda’s presence, everything else fading as she forced your body to cum again. Her hand tugging your leash, her collar wrapped tightly around your neck. Her skin, slapping against yours as she forced the strap deeper.
Her voice, sounding out. Her words, not registering as you came again. Her hand, twisting your face towards her as your vision started to darken. Her eyebrows, threaded together.
Her eyes, that lovely shade of green, forever ingrained in your mind.
And then, nothing.
—-
“Darling, I need you to wake up. Please.”
A cool hand was stroking your cheek, shaking as it wiped away tears that you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Warm breath hit your lips as Wanda sighed in relief, your eyes fluttering open.
Everything was blurry, but your lips still turned upwards. Smiling goofily up at Wanda, you attempted to move. Your limbs felt like lead, your muscles sore as you twisted a strand of her auburn hair between your fingers.
“I was so worried,” Wanda began, but you shushed her.
“Don’t,” Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat. “I enjoyed every second of that, Wanda. I promise.”
“Are you sure?”
Wanda’s voice wobbled, her eyes concerned as she moved to lay down next to you. You threw your leg over her hip somewhat clumsily, still feeling as though your limbs were deadweight. Tucking your face into the crook of her neck, you inhaled deeply, letting her vanilla scent wash over you.
“I’m absolutely positive,” You reassured her, already feeling your eyes closing again. “Now let’s just cuddle for a bit, and then you can order us food while I get the shower ready in, um, about an hour.”
And with that, you promptly fell asleep.
Wanda smiled, stroking your hair as you curled around her. Honestly, how did she get so lucky? She thought about the ring sitting hidden in her office desk drawer, and felt a wave of love overtake her as you pulled her closer in your sleep.
She just had to wait until after the holidays. Soon, you would be her wife. Wanda couldn’t wait for that day to come.
Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.
Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.
You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.
You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.
Frankly, you were mortified.
And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”
Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.
You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,
“Put it down.”
You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.
Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.
“Are we done?”
Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.
You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.
“Now darling—” he started.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Light of my life—”
“I’ll kill you.”
Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.
Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.
Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.
His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.
“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”
You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.
“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.
“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”
You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,
“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better half of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”
That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.
“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.
“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”
You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.
At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.
“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.
A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.
“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”
It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.
Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.
“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.
At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.
Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.
Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.
The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.
“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.
“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.
“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”
Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.
“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.
You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’
No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.
What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.
“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”
Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.
“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”
“I don’t fuck strangers.”
Bucky smiled at that.
“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.
Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.
“You like skylines?” he asked.
You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.
“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.
Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.
You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.
“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.
Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.
Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.
“James,” you hissed.
Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.
“Yes, dear?”
“Why are you undressing me?”
Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.
“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.
The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.
“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”
You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?
“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”
Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.
The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.
You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.
“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”
You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.
“James!”
Again with that name.
“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”
Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.
“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.
You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.
“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.
Like he’d read your mind.
In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.
“Just let it happen, honey.”
He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.
Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.
Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:
“N-no, Bucky.”
To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.
He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.
“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.
“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”
The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.
Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.
A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.
“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.
His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.
You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.
“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”
His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.
He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.
Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.
And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.
When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.
Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.
He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.
Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.
Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.
“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.
You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.
Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.
“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”
In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.
Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?
It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.
You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.
“Open the fucking door!”
He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.
Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.
One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.
You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.
Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—
“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.
You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.
“What are you doing?!” he roared.
You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.
He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.
“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”
No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.
The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.
“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.
“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:
Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!
Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.
“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.
Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.
“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.
He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.
“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”
That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.
“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”
His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.
You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.
The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.
“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.
“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.
Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.
This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.
Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.
“I’ve never had sex before.”
At last, the tie loosened a little.
Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.
“What?”
You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.
“You’re a virgin?”
You nodded.
“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”
“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”
He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.
“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.
As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.
You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.
You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.
Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.
Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.
He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:
“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”
Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.
“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.
“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.
For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.
While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.
How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.
Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.
Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.
Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.
Any minute now, he thought with some relief.
Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.
A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.
Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.
You barged in and froze.
“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.
Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.
Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.
Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.
He was only met with silence.
Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.
The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.
“James?”
Your voice almost pained.
A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”
Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.
Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.
“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.
Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.
“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”
If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.
Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.
Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.
“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.
Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.
You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.
You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.
“James.”
“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.
At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,
“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”
Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.
“Oh yeah?” he murmured.
You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.
“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.
You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.
You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.
His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.
Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.
“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.
“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.
“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.
Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.
A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.
He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.
Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.
No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.
“Are you sure it’ll fit?”
Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.
“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.
“Okay.”
Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.
You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.
Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.
Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.
His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?
When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.
Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.
You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.
Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.
Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.
Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.
You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.
Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?
Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.
Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.
Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.
You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.
He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.
“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”
He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.
You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.
“Keep going, I’m good.”
Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“N—”
“Don’t lie.”
You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.
“Aw hell.”
The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.
He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.
“I didn’t wanna interrup—”
“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”
“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”
Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.
“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”
Bucky eyed you incredulously.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.
You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.
“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.
“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”
It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.
The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.
When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.
“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”
He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.
When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.
The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?
Bucky paused. Swallowed.
The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.
“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.
Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.
“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.
This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.
Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.
“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.
“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.
He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.
“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.
You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.
“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.
Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.
“Doll, I’m so sorry.”
The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.
When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.
The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.
“Doing so good for me.”
“Stretching so nice for this cock.”
“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”
Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.
Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.
“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”
An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.
“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.
Your cheeks flushed.
“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”
‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.
“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.
You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.
“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”
You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.
“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”
Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.
“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”
You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.
“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.
Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.
Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.
“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.
“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.
“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.
“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”
Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.
Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.
You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.
“One more for me, honey.”
You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?
Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.
“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.
“Sure you can.”
Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.
His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,
“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”
With a command like that, how could you refuse?
You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.
Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.
But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.
It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.
The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.
“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.
You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.
“I love you.”
You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.
“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.
“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.
You would’ve liked to speak.
Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.
In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.
The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.
Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.
“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.
When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.
“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.
“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”
warnings: 18+ Non-con, Knife play, cutting, blood (just a little bit), pet names (bunny, baby doll, sweetheart, angel), body betrayal, fingering, cunnilingus, hair pulling, daddy kink, chasing, obsessive, stalking, pervy nat, if I'm missing things let me know :)
a/n: hi!!! this is my very first fic, and I really would appreciate it if you left some type of feedback :))) I was really nervous to post this, considering I haven't written a fic in years, but I got bored one day, and here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy it, and maybe I'll turn this fic into an actual AU
Word count: 4.5k
After your long semester and treacherous finals and projects you had to finish, you decided that you wanted to go to an Air BNB to relax and take time off from the real world. You always liked the woods; it was calming, and you and your parents always went on camping trips when you were younger. Getting older, you found escaping to the woods after a long, hard time and reconnecting with nature was very rehabilitating. So, seeing this offer, you decided to pack your bags and go out for a week.
There was a slight knock on the door. You assumed it might have been Wanda, the lady who let you stay in her lovely cabin. "Hello? Anyone home?" The knocking continued till you got up and answered the door.
"Oh..thank god someone answered!" A woman who didn't look like Wanda from the pictures in the cabin stood there. She wore a simple tank top with ripped jeans and black boots to finish the look. She had deep red hair that was messily tied up in a bun. She looked like she had a backpack with a camera around her neck; she must have been a hiker.
"A-are you okay? It's pretty late out.. are you hurt?" Seeing someone out this late was very strange. When you would go out, it was close to sundown, but you always made it back in time before the sun fully set.
The woman let out a nervous laugh, "I'm fine, I'm not hurt or anything, but um," she trailed off, clutching her camera in her hands.".. Fuck this is so embarrassing..but I'm uh, pretty lost.." her voice trailed off before she decided to muster up the courage to look at you.
"Listen, I know... I know. I was trying to get some pictures of the area, and the lookout points weren't doing them justice, so I kind of.. Went off the trail. I mean, I did get a few good photos in the process!" she let out a deep sigh, catching the concerned look on your face." sorry, Besides the point. Can you possibly point me in the right direction of the trail?"
"Well...I haven't been here for a while, but I can help you." You peeked your head outside past her and recollected your memory of the path you would take when you went on your walks before speaking again.
"got it.. Back up the hill, stay to the right of the river.." She smirked, "And there isn't any chance of you walking back with me?" You didn't know the lady, but the kindness in you wanted to go with her to make sure she got back safe, but how would you get back in the dark?
"I'm kidding! Of course not... It's getting dark for a young girl like you to be out this late anyways.." she grabbed onto the straps of her backpack, sighing, "Well... Thank you! I'm sorry for barging into your peaceful weekend; maybe I'll see you and whoever you are here with hiking tomorrow?" You gave a shy nod and told the woman goodnight before closing the door and going to bed.
The next day, you spent the whole morning and afternoon cooking breakfast and sitting by the river writing in your journal. Since the river was so close to your cabin, you decided it would be nice to hang out there before returning. The weather was nice; some birds were chirping in the distance, the water was calm, and there weren't many people around.
The sun started to set, so you decided it was time for your walk. It was pretty late; the sun had almost entirely set, but you figured no one would be around, and you wouldn't travel far from the cabin; you went on your journey. The woods at night were more serene; the stars you never get to see because of the city lights lit up your path along with the moon; the woodland creatures were more than likely asleep at night, so the bunnies, deer, and birds you saw while you were at the river were long gone.
It wasn't before long you heard a crack deep in the forest that made you jump, assuming you were alone. "Oh, it's you!" you heard a familiar voice say before turning towards it. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sneak up on you... I mean, it's not hard to spook someone when they are hiking at night." the woman let out a deep laugh before you glared at her for scaring you.
"Well, I was going on my daily walk... I lost track of time and…what are you doing out here??" You folded your arms, waiting for her reply. "What am I doing out here? More photography..now that I know my way back, I won't get lost if I decide to go out and take some shots of the moon or... Other things.." she leaned against the tree before smiling again, "So, did you get any of your friends to come hiking with you?" You started to look down, but her laugh and deeper voice took you out of your thoughts.
"Oh… don't tell me you came to that cabin alone... What is a young girl like you doing by herself in a cabin in the woods?"
"I just wanted to take some time off after my semester in school; I assumed no one comes out here, so-" The woman stood up straight; it wasn't until now that you noticed that she was a lot taller and more muscular-looking than you. She had defined muscles along with her shirt, showing off her toned abs.
"Oh, you are a lot braver than me; I mean, your not worried something happened to you while you were out here; I get it it's pretty remote out here... But Shit can happen, right?"
"Yea… I guess you are right; I just assumed because, on the listing, the lady said people don't come around the area as much, so it would be quiet and peaceful… "You brushed off that she was standing slightly close to you, and you backed away a bit. "Anyways, where's your camera? I'd love to see some of your pictures if you don't mind.." giving her a soft, warm smile, you leaned against the tree.
"Oh, it's here! I know it doesn't look like much. But I've gotten some really.. Really good photos so far. It takes great close-up shots...We could go back to your cabin and get you out of the dark, and I can show them to you. Only if you want.." she licked her lips before leaning over you against the tree.
"I didn't say this earlier, but you are very pretty. I mean, I could take your pictures too if you want.." The woman's deep voice rattled through your head, and the prominent shyness started to creep up on your face because of how close you were. "Come on! Why do you look so nervous all of a sudden? I mean, you know I've taken photos of you already... what's a few more?"
"You…what?" Your smile quickly turned into a frown, and hearing her laugh only made you feel worse, "It's not like you can stop me, pretty girl.." there was darkness in her eyes that made your body feel cold. You tried too hard to get from her, proving extremely hard because she trapped you between her and the tree. But you managed to get out of the way and make a run for it.
"You know you only make it worse if you run!!" You paid her no mind instead, running as far as you could. You couldn't run to your cabin because she knew exactly where it was. Maybe the service road could be some help?
You heard heavy footsteps come after you, but you were determined to get out of the woods. Your breath was ragged, and your running started to slow down; you assumed that you would be more fit to run long distances, but your daily pilates proved you wrong.
It wasn't long until your arm got pulled, and your body got pressed against the ground. "You can only run so far, bunny.." her breath beating down your neck as you tried to catch yours.
"Haha... I got you~ awe, bunny, look at those pretty wide eyes, you struggling to catch your breath. I told you there was no use to running; you should have listened to me, darling." she moved a piece of hair behind your ear, now straddling your back, "What really was the plan here? You came out to stay at a cabin alone, you answered the door for a stranger and went out a night completely defenseless. If I didn't know any better, it was like you wanted someone to." She stopped and laughed. She saw the tears roll down your face onto the forest floor.
"Well... I don't want to spoil the surprise I have planned for you…" she smiled, taking her thumb and wiping your falling tears before she ran that same thumb across her tongue, letting out a guttural moan.
You just knew you were dead; you watched way too many true crime videos to see what happens to people who are in your situation. You felt her start to bite and kiss the side of your neck, starting to leave a bruise on it, making you whimper in the process.
"Was that a whimper? What a sweet little bunny..! Do it again.." she returned to a different spot, moaning on your neck, marking you as hers. "I feel you shaking, sweetheart, don't be scared... I'm going to make you feel good.." You started to kick at her, trying to free yourself yet again.
"Hey.. hey... I can hold you down with one hand and choke you with the other. Do you want me to fuck your pathetic little body on the ground like the little slut you are," she growled in your ear, sending shivers down your body, "or are you going to come back to the cabin with me, like a good little bunny?" she nipped at your ear earning a small yelp from you, "ill.. Come back w-with you please.." you managed to squeak out.
"Good girl, now come on.." she slowly got off you, still holding onto your arms. "I don't think I need to tell you; what would happen if you try to run again, do I?" You started to get a bit antsy, tears spilling down your face before you heard a flick of a knife that was swiftly held up to your throat.
"Ah ah ah... Now you are all quiet, aren't you?.. I'm astonished you seemed like a very smart girl; you fell for the lost little hiker act... Such a gullible little bunny.." she chuckled before pushing you to walk. Not before long, you both showed up to the cabin. The knife is still at your neck. Your arms locked tightly in her other hand.
"Open the door.." your shaky hands unlocked the door, letting you inside. She led you both to a couch in the middle of the room before she sat on it, grabbing your hair and pulling you towards her, making you cry out. "You have such pretty soft hair, bunny.." she let go of it, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, instantly dominating your mouth.
She bit your lip, making you whimper in her lap, making her pull away, now sadistically smiling at you. "Mmm, you like it when I bite your lip, hm? I felt that shiver, sweet girl.. "she let out a deep breath "fuck, I couldn't help myself after seeing you hiking from that lookout point. Your gorgeous ass and thighs in those leggings, your cute little face when you got tried...I got myself off before I got up to where I was. I snapped photo after photo of you while you played in the river and when you went out to journal in your pajamas every morning. But I knew pictures weren't enough, no... I had to have you. I had to be the one that makes you tired, to make you whimper and moan for me. I need to see you... All of you, bunny. Let's get you out of these, hm?" you felt the coldness of her sharp knife press against you, cutting your shirt off along with your sports bra.
She moaned when she saw your breasts pop out of your bra before dropping the knife and taking them in her hands, teasing you, smiling when you started trembling in her lap.
"I know you are excited, darling... I am, too.." she ran her palms up your stomach before wrapping them around your neck.
"N-no, please.." she tilted her head before frowning at you, "No? Did you just say no.. to me?" her voice became monotone. She looked like she wasn't happy.
"Look at me." you didn't. You were too busy in your mind, assuming the worst was about to happen to you until you felt a sharp sting across your cheek. "I said. Look. At. Me." she gritted through her teeth. "You're going to listen to me, bunny? I'm going to get these leggings off, then you're going to go up to that bedroom of yours and lay back on your bed... Do you understand me?" you looked down at the knife in her hand that was dangerously close to your chest. "Look at me. Look at me in the eyes, not the knife, baby.." your eyes slowly met hers. "Good girl.."
Tears started to pool up again, making her give you a fake pout, "Baby doll, you do not have to cry.. I'm going to make you feel so good. And you're going to make me feel good, too.." you started to sniffle and chose not to say anything else.
"Now, we are going to walk... And you're going to feel this knife pressed against your throat. If you do anything stupid, you will be sliced open..is that clear?" you nodded, whimpering.
"Say yes, Daddy.." you heard the smile in her voice when she said that.
"Y-yes, Daddy.." she let out a satisfied hum, "there we go.." You both made your way up to the bedroom, lying on the bed as you were told. "Just like that... Good little bunny!!" smiled, pulling out her camera, "Let me just... capture this moment.." she started taking pictures of you pouting when you began to cry again. "Baby, don't cry! I need you to smile! Let's see that pretty smile, okay?"
After a few more pictures, she removed her bag, set the camera on the nightstand, and walked over to you. "Hmm, can you do one last thing for me, bunny?.. Give me your wrist." she took your wrist, chaining them to the bed.
"You can pull off them now, but it won't matter.." she giggled.
"W-why..?"
She chuckled, "Aren't you the curious bunny.." she smiled, getting close to your face. "Because baby, I'm going to fuck you so good you aren't going to want to go anywhere..not... That'd let you anyway. Now.. open your mouth."
You looked at her, opening your mouth before she squeezed your face, making you stick your tongue out before spitting on it. "Aht aht.. Don't swallow it, doll. Keep your tongue out nice and pretty for me.." she started to take off her clothes, and you watched as she did, seeing all the scratches you had left from trying to fight back. "seems like you put up a small fight.." she climbed over you, giving you a complete view of her glistening pussy. Seeing how wet she was from this whole interaction didn't even compare to how much you were dripping on the bed. But you were scared shitless. Your body felt otherwise.
She lowered herself on your face, grabbing your hair and making you moan against her. "Come on, sweetheart, you're going to eat Daddy out, okay? Clean up the mess you've made of me." you absentmindedly started to lap at her clit, earning her deep moans and her pulling your hair even more.
"Mm yea.. Use your pretty little tongue... Fuck.." her head was thrown back, her toned stomach was all you could see. You, too, caught up in her sounds, and she tasted didn't even notice when she reached back and started rubbing your puffy little cunt through your panties with her fingers making you moan against her, sending vibrations thorough out her body.
"Mm, don't stop licking, keep fucking going. Holy Shit… being such an obedient little slut.." she gasped when she felt your wetness seep through your panties. "Such a dirty little girl turned on by getting used like the whore you are. Letting a fucking stranger use your mouth to get off." her breathing got ragged as you got faster and more sloppy with your licks and sucks, making her cum all over your face.
"Ah ha.. don't you look pretty angel.. Covered in my cum and your drool…I need another picture.." she grabbed the camera off the nightstand again, snapping some pictures.
"You want to taste yourself, doll?" she moved her fingers up to your mouth, plunging them down your throat, making you gag a bit. "Taste good, doesn't it? I have to get a taste for myself later, but since you've been a good bunny for me, it's time for your reward.
You thought it was your chance to do something. You started squirming, and it made her a tiny bit upset. "Do you think squirming is going to do anything? You can't get away from me… did you forget I have a knife? I don't want to use it on you, but I will if you keep struggling. You're such a pretty girl... My pretty girl and I would hate to mess you up... Let me cut this underwear off, and then I'll put the knife up…" She flicked it open again, causing you to buck your hips as she got close to cutting them off, making her knick your thigh in the process. "See..this happens when you don't listen to daddy.."
"No- no, please... Stop, please!" your tears started to come back; she shushed you, licking the blood off the knife before straddling your waist. "You can say no all you want, bunny, but it's happening no matter what.." she cut them off, exposing you to the cold air of the cabin, your scent making her moan.
"Look at you, bunny.. you're dripping down to your ass," she ran her softly up your slit before licking it clean, letting out a satisfied moan. You jerked your hips at her noises, making her giggle. "Oh.. you jerked pretty hard there... Does it feel good? I've barely even touched you.."
She got off your waist, looking down over you, "If I were to just... push my fingers into you now, they would slide in so easily. But I'll be nice... Just circle warm you up a bit."
"No! Stop it, please.." you cried out. Your voice was almost gone, and you watched as she rolled her eyes.
"Here we go again with the no… you're being so stubborn. I think it would just be better for the both of us if I just.." she took your now ripped panties and shoved them into your mouth.
"Shut. You. Up. There.." she had a satisfied smile on her face. "Oh, don't look so terrified... It wasn't like you were going to wear those panties again anyway... Now where was I… right." she smiled, continuing to circle your clit, moaning before sticking two fingers in you and making you scream.
"Aww, look at you taking two fingers like a good girl; you usually can only fit one in. You brought that new toy with you on your trip but couldn't even fit that. And look at you now, being a big girl, taking two of my fingers so easily." She really has been watching you this whole time. You were sure you closed the curtains... Maybe she had heard you mumbling to yourself about it...
The room was full of sounds from your aching cunt, her deep moans from seeing your pussy grip her fingers, and your cries of pain that soon turned into pleasures. She started to use her thumb to rub your clit.
"What if I was to add another finger..oh.. Was that a moan, bunny?" she bit her lip before laughing, "Let me hear it again.." she started to move her thumb faster, making you arch your back before pushing down on your stomach and fingering you harder.
"Oh, I think you're getting closer for me, baby; we can stop, though, for a second.." she pulled her fingers out of you, making you whimper and clinch around nothing, missing her fingers being inside of you. She started to laugh, seeing your face begin to tear up again.
"Look at you... It's pathetic! First telling me no and now wanting me to finish you off... You're so adorable, bunny.." she went in her bag and got something to put on. When she came back, she had a strap without the toy. She started to look at your bags before taking the brand-new toy you brought and attaching it to it. "It's so cute that you picked out this one... This might be a little too big for you, don't you think?" she was right; you had picked out a toy that was way too big for you. You ultimately chose it because of its appearance; it was a clear and pink silicone toy with little hearts in it. You didn't read the size when you ordered it and ordered a 9-inch.
"Don't worry, bunny, ill make it fit.." she lined herself up with your entrance rubbing the tip up and down your slick-covered cunt. "You make me so fucking wet bunny... The way you took my pussy in your mouth like a good slut. You were such a good girl, making me feel so good. But now it's my turn to make you feel even better." she slowly pushed herself in, making you moan out, her holding your hips still as you took almost half the cock in you.
"Mm, look at that.. God, I wish you could see how good your cunt looks stretched around this toy.." She started to rub your clit again, pushing more and more into you before you felt her bottom out into you. "That's a good girl!! See, I knew you could do it.." she started slowly but started to pound you when she felt you loosen up a little bit. Your back was arched as she held your hips, mumbling dirty names in your ear as she fucked you senseless.
"Doesn't it feel good, bunny?" your face was puffy from all the tears you were letting out as she started to kiss them away. She mumbled into your neck, "I know, I know… it's so hard to go slow when you're making cute noises like these. I want you to scream for me... But there is always tomorrow for that angel; you are all mine. I don't have to rush; you didn't think this was the last time we'd do this, did you?" your heart sank as tears rose in your eyes.
You whimpered about how the owner of the house would be looking for you, but nothing came out except muffled sounds in between her thrusts. She chuckled and looked down at you.
"Honey, no one is going to look for you. Your mine for the next few days... Maybe even longer. Fuck! You feel so fucking good. I don't think I'll ever let you go.." you were trying your best to stifle your moans, not trying to be loud to let her know you were slightly enjoying her movements. She stroked your face with her hand before cupping your face.
"It's so cute watching you try to be quiet; you can let go for me, bunny... No one is going to hear you. It's okay.." her breath was ragged again, and her thrust became sloppier.
"You're doing so good for me, sweetheart. Sweetheart, let me help you.." she reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a small vibrator, widening your eyes. 'How did she know that was there?' you thought. But you were completely snapped out of it before she unchained one of your hands and put the vibrator in your hand before guiding it to your clit.
"Oh fuck!! Your clinching so hard around my cock, bunny… I want you to come for me, doll.." she slapped your face, "aht aht I want to see your pretty little eyes, come on now look at me while you cum, come on be a good girl for me.." the tears pricked at your eyes, but they seemed only to egg her on.
"Mm, does it feel good, angel? Me pounding you with your toy while you have a little vibrator on your clit?" her moans got louder, and so did yours. It wasn't until she removed your hand with the vibrator from your clit you let out the most pornographic moan, squirting on her and the bed as she pulled out of you.
Your body was spazzing as she unchained you pulling you into her lap and holding you as you came down from your high. She reached over to grab a water bottle from her bag and gave it to you, making you drink it as she smiled down at you. There was a faint buzz from the other nightstand as you tried to catch your breath; the woman reached over to get what seemed to be your phone. She let out a small chuckle before moving the strand of hair out of your face and showing you your phone.
"Look, bunny, the owner said you don't have to worry about the payment... She said she'd be home shortly... Though I don't think the cameras did you justice, she'd want to see you for herself.." She sat the phone down before laying you back down on the bed.
"But let's get you cleaned up first. I want my wife to see how adorable you are when you aren't covered in sweat and cum.. Maybe you can show her the pictures when she comes. How does that sound?"
And with that, she went to run the bath. You weren't going anywhere anytime soon, not that your legs worked anyway. She carried you to the bathtub, settling you in before going downstairs. It wasn't until long before you heard the words, "Oh Nat, she's perfect... Our perfect bunny."
