#MCU AU fanfic rec | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freakrenaissance · 4 months ago

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Back on my dark side, & oooh, I loved this! Delicious mafia boys... this was fantastic

go ahead and cry, little girl

Pairing: dark mafia!Steve Rogers x bratty!Reader

Warnings: smut, dark elements, spanking, daddy!kink, breeding kink, excessive swearing, violence, misogyny, humiliation, noncon (at first), minors dni

Summary: Forced to marry notorious mob boss Steve Rogers, you act out repeatedly until you push him too far. Steve has always been ruthless - but will he go easy on you?

(A/N: the picture above is only an outfit reference. the gif was made by me. sorry for all the excessive swearing in this, i thought it fitted the characters. enjoy!)

When you thought of married life, you thought of being carried bridal-style into your marital home. In the strong arms of your Mr. Right, you thought of tender caresses and knowing smiles between husband and wife. You dreamed of shy, newlywed touches and a honeymoon phase that lasted forever. You dreamed of being doted on, spoiled, taken care of, shown off – you dreamed of it all and wanted it all.

Your wedding day took place on a bleak day with the sky blotted with grey and cold drizzle spraying through the air. It was two weeks after your father died from a heart attack. You were sad when you heard, but you had barely known the man. He was the boss of one of the biggest gangs in the city, and as his only daughter, you had been kept well away from the criminal lifestyle he led. Expensive boarding schools, lavish holidays abroad during Christmas and summer, a fat allowance every month and free reign with his black credit card that you never had to pay off. Growing up, you’d had everything you’d ever wanted – except for the love and attention of a father.

It was sad, but not as much of a bitter shock when you found out about your father’s final wish.

“I won’t do it!” You had yelled, stamping your heels against the marble floor of your foyer. “Mom, I swear to God. You can’t make me marry some man I don’t even know, just because Dad wanted me to! For fucksakes, I’m meant to be going to the Bahamas with the girls next week! The Bahamas, Mom! Not a wedding! Not my own fucking wedding!”

“You have to.” Your mother had said simply. “It’s been arranged. It has been for a long time. You may not have known it, but your father and the Rogers family have been planning this union for years. To bring the two biggest families in the city together as one. It’s what your father would have wanted. And Steve Rogers has graciously agreed to marry you. It’s all set.”

“Fuck Steve Rogers!” You had whined. You knew him. You had seen him around the few summers you had actually spent in your hometown. He was older than you, a fair bit older. But he was handsome – every girl in the area was crazy about him. He was also silent, brooding, dangerous – the man in charge of the one gang bigger and deadlier than your father’s. “I don’t care what he’s agreed to. I’m not agreeing. You hear me, Mom? I don’t want this. It’s not happening. It won’t happen. I won’t let it!”

Your wedding day was bleak, with only Steve’s family and yours in attendance. And you had to admit, he looked good. Really good. He was so tall, towering above everyone. Shoulders broad and fit snugly into a black tux. Blonde hair tussled slightly, eyes blue and sombre. You wondered if it was his idea to go ahead with this whole wedding union thing. It seemed unlike him.

You didn’t know Steve Rogers personally but you had heard a lot about him. Apart from having huge stakes in just about every illegal business in the underworld of your city – from narcotics to money laundering and God only knew what else – Steve was also known to be ruthless. Dangerous. There were rumours that he’d had a man killed just for looking at him wrong.

Steve also didn’t seem like the type to settle down. You had seen him at a club once a few years back – when you and your friends had got in with fake IDs – and he had left with two different girls on his arm. There were rumours about him, about his bachelor lifestyle, how he used girl after girl and then discarded them without a second glance. Somehow, it didn’t make sense for a man like that to be settling down.

But he seemed so assured as he said his vows, exuding power and charm with every word he spoke; even the small crowd seemed enamoured by him. Which was crazy to you, because all of them must know that this whole thing was a farce, right? But when it was all said and done, and Steve leaned down and kissed you, pressed his lips softly against yours and held your jaw gently as he did, you could feel your heart flutter just a tiny bit.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

***

“Oh shit. Shit. Fuck. No.” You swore, switching the oven, spiteful black smoke billowing upwards as you gingerly took the burnt lasagne out and set it to one side, irritation bubbling up inside of you. Well, this was great. Just great. The one time you decide to do something nice and housewife-like… Pinching your nose in disgust, you dumped the desecrated dish into the bin and wiped your hands on your cherry print apron.

Steve would be home soon – from whatever illegal business that had taken up his time today – and unless you acted fast, there would be no food on the table waiting for him. Not that he’d say a word, you thought bitterly. But you’d sooner burn along with the lasagne than give him another reason to hate you. Quickly, you strode to the front door, swinging it open. The guard on duty raised an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You said haughtily, knowing he could undoubtedly smell the burning food inside, “Look, I need your help. Can you send one of the guys out to that little Italian place downtown? Have him pick up enough food for about four people?” There was only you and Steve in the house, but after two months of being married to him, you knew he could eat like a horse. “Maybe some lasagne, and those little dough balls? You know the ones, right? With the butter and garlic? Get those. And a nice bottle of wine too.”

The guard nodded immediately, gesturing to one of the other guys – Steve sure did have a lot of guys stationed outside their house – “Anything else, Mrs. Rogers?”

“No. That’s it. Thanks.” You said, retreating back into the house and closing the door behind you, making a mental note to remember the guard’s name for next time. That was one perk of being the wife of Steve Rogers – having about a dozen of his subordinates and men working for him at your beck and call. They’d get the food and wine and anything else you asked for, knowing Steve would do something drastic like have them killed if they disobeyed.

You wondered whether they knew that Steve hated you.

And it was true. As depressing as it sounded. You didn’t even know why you were bothering to ensure there was food for him when he got home. Because he had let you know from the moment that he married you that he hated you. Either that or he was extremely apathetic towards you. Whatever. There was barely any difference between the two.

You remembered your wedding night, when Steve had brought you home to this big mansion. You had grown up with money but it was nothing compared to how lavish Steve’s home was. He had pools, tennis courts, an indoor cinema, he practically lived in a palace. And he had stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face as you had ooh-edand aah-ed over the luxurious mansion.

“Your room’s on the second floor, third door.” Steve had said curtly. “All your suitcases have been unpacked. The maids are in their quarters downstairs if you need anything else.” And then he had left. Without another word. Just turned on his heel and walked out the door, probably to attend to some type of sordid business – on his wedding night no less.

And two months later, it was still more of the same. Steve barely looked at you, barely spoke a word to you unless he really had to. You hadn’t even seen the inside of his bedroom, and he had never stepped foot inside yours. Your bedroom which was all pink and girly, fluffy white rug and vanity table and everything. You wondered if he’d ordered it to be decorated exactly to your taste, thinking it was what you’d like – which it was – but no. Steve barely knew you, he hadn’t even tried to get to know you.

The only time Steve did act like a normal, nice and loving husband was in public. In the eyes of other people, he was perfect, doting, amazing. Often, you’d go to events with him, club appearances or charity galas thrown by his business partners – fronts for more money laundering, undoubtedly, not that Steve ever shared any inside knowledge about his business with you.

And you’d be on his arm at those galas, dressed in some expensive dress you’d bought with his money, letting him parade you around with his large hand on the small of your back. And you had to give Steve props for his acting skills, because he’d look at you with sparkling blue eyes that actually looked like they were in love – how did he even do that? – and he’d introduce you as his wife, he’d kiss you, whisper softly to you, tuck your hair behind your ear. And everyone would smile and congratulate you both on being such a beautiful couple.

And then you’d come home, and he’d go to his room and you’d go to yours. No words spoken. No more touches. No more smiles. Not even a look.

So, you couldn’t understand why even now, two months into this bullshit sham of a marriage, you were still trying to appease him. Dressed in a cute yellow sundress – bought with Steve’s credit card, which had replaced your father’s card once you’d become Mrs. Steve Rogers – and a white cherry print apron. Because who knows, maybe Steve would look at you today and realise that hey, my wife’s kind of hot. Maybe I should treat her more like a wife.

Or even just more like a person, you thought to yourself bitterly.

The doorbell rang. It was one of Steve’s guys, a bag of Italian food in his hand. He handed it to you quickly, barely making eye contact with you before scurrying away. That was another thing. Ever since you’d married Steve, no other man ever looked your way. Which sucked, because you had liked the attention. And it wasn’t like you were getting any from your husband.

You had just finished setting the table when his Highness came home. Steve was imposing as he walked in through the door, acting like he owned the place – which he did. He had on a white dress shirt, collar button undone and sleeves rolled up, and specks of suspicious red dotting the otherwise pristine white fabric. He had his suit jacket scrunched up in his hand, and his blonde hair looked tousled, like he’d run his hand through it many times throughout the day.

He looked like he’d come straight home after torturing some poor somebody, but you had to admit he still looked hot. He always looked hot.

“No, Buck. I don’t need that shit on my plate right now.” Steve was on the phone with his right-hand man, “I trust you to handle it, I have other shit to deal with today, okay?” There was a bit more back and forth, but it was more of the same for you. Just a bunch of testosterone-boosted egos talking about criminal activity – you found it boring. You only looked up once Steve had hung up.

“Hey.” You said slowly, “You must be hungry. Dinner’s ready.” And you inwardly cringed at how awkward you sounded, even after two months of being married to the man.

Steve gave you a short glance, throwing his jacket on the couch and wiping the sweat on his forehead. “I have company coming over tonight.” He said, surveying the food, the kitchen, the fridge, the floor, and then gracing you with eye contact that lasted about two seconds before it was back on the food again, “You need to be inside your room around 9pm. Get all you need from downstairs before then. Don’t come down here after that, got it?”

He didn’t even wait for you to answer, instead grabbing his plate of food which you had so painstakingly prepared for him, and heading down towards his office. Where he would undoubtedly do some more illegal shit before whoever the fuck was coming over tonight came over, and then he’d do more illegal shit with them too.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You huffed underneath your breath, ripping the cherry-print apron off and throwing it to the side. What the fuck was his problem? Was he allergic to being nice? Cordial, even? You followed him into the hall, “You can’t just banish me to my room whenever you feel like, you know. I’m your wife, Steve. Not your fucking daughter.”

“Watch how you speak to me.” Steve’s eyes flashed your way warningly, his tone authoritative yet somehow still nonchalant. As if he was speaking to one of his subordinates, rather than his own wife. “And I’m serious. Grab your shit and go to your room before 9pm.”

“Why? What the fuck are you doing, huh? Hosting an orgy? Why can’t I be downstairs in my own house at 9-fucking-pm?” You asked, really letting it go with the expletives. God. He made you so angry – marching into the house, not even thanking you for the food – it was takeout, but he didn’t know that – and then ordering you to go to your room like you were five fucking years old.

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Steve muttered, and as if on cue, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. It was probably some disgruntled drug lord on the other end, since those were the type of people you knew he liaisoned with on a regular basis. “Do as you’re told. Or else.” And with that, he disappeared inside his office, locking the door behind him.

Fuck him. You thought, stewing and swearing as you stomped your way up the stairs. Out of sheer irritation and spite, you whipped your phone out and quickly bought two Van Cleef bracelets, rapidly typing out Steve’s card information before you could change your mind. The notification from his bank would probably piss him off, but it wouldn’t really make a dent on his bank balance. No. This wasn’t enough. You wanted to push him even further.

It seemed like the only time Steve spoke more than two words to you was when he was reprimanding you or angry at you. Well. You could give him something to get angry over. You could give him plenty to get angry over. No more playing at caring little housewife. It was time to get creative.

***

You could hear them downstairs. The men Steve had over. It sounded like there was three or four of them, plus your husband. Drinking beer and talking in low voices. Probably going over some illegal deal – not that you cared. You took a deep breath and looked down at your outfit for the night – a lacy baby pink chemise with a plunging neckline – sinfully short too, with the hemline barely brushing against your upper thighs. You knew if you bent down, it would leave nothing to the imagination. And panties? Who needed them?

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs, each step feeling more illegal than the last. You had never really disobeyed Steve so blatantly before. A part of you, despite everything, was still scared of the big bad mob boss he was. But a larger part of you was irritated by his apathy, how he acted like you didn’t even exist. At this point, you’d do anything to get somekind of reaction out of him – which is why you were in your current predicament.

The cold air hit you hard when you entered the living room. The serious chatter between the men seemed to cease almost immediately as you slowly made your way across the room, not sparing any of them a glance – not even Steve. You made sure to wink your hips with every step, knowing that every single eye in that room was currently on you – even Steve (you hoped).

You made your way into the kitchen, exhaling the breath you’d been holding in. You hadn’t thought too far ahead with your plan, but decided to grab a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while you were down here. You could hear a low chuckle from the living room.

“I think that little bunny escaped from your bedroom, Steve.” You heard an unfamiliar voice speak, “Who is she, one of your girls? Are the rest of them as hot as she is?” You wrinkled your nose. Clearly, these guys were from out of town. No local man would have dared to make any comments about you, least of all to Steve’s face.

You reappeared in the living room with the Ben & Jerry’s in your hand, lid unscrewed and spoon digging into the ice cream. “I’m his wife.” You said casually, making a big show of placing the spoon in your mouth, lapping at the ice cream and making direct contact with Steve as you did so. And to say Steve looked livid was an understatement. He had long ago mastered the art of keeping a poker face, but his fists were clenched tight and knuckles white, a tell-tale vein throbbing in his forehead.

“Nice to meet you guys.” You said sweetly, licking the ice cream off the spoon, standing there innocently and knowing full well that even in the dim light, your chemise was probably see-through. It was cold too, making your nipples poke against the fabric. And all Steve’s guests could do was ogle at you; you saw a guy lick his lips and another one literally reached down to adjust himself. God, where had Steve found these weirdos?

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Steve said smoothly, standing up and clearing his throat. He sounded cool, collected, except his hands were still balled into fists at his sides. Slowly, like a panther stalking its prey, he made his way over to you. “It seems like my wife has had a severe lapse in judgement. She isn’t allowed to be down here, but…” He paused, and you stuck your chin up and gave him the biggest glare you could muster up.

“But unfortunately for her, she’s disobeyed me.” Steve finished, reaching out and grabbing your wrist roughly. The calmness in his demeanour was making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you’d sooner die than give away that you were maybe kind of scared. You tried to twist out of his death grip but to no avail. And he was literally crushing your wrist with how hard he was holding it.

“Let go of me!” You hissed fiercely at him, knowing full well that you were basically putting on a free show for everyone else in the room, and they were hanging on to every word you spoke. Steve didn’t even spare you a glance.

“So, you gentlemen will have to excuse me while I go see to my wife. As you can see, she’s a loose cannon and needs disciplining. Bucky, take some more beer out for these guys. They’ll sit and wait while I finish with her, won’t you?” Steve asked them, except you knew it wasn’t really a question.

The men all nodded, with the leader raising his hands up in the air, “No problem, Steve. I know how annoying broads can get. My own girl’s a real pain in the ass, too. She –”

The man’s voice drowned out in the background when Steve turned to finally rest his eyes on you. The look on his face was unreadable, his mouth a thin line and blue eyes dark. His grip on your wrist kept you rooted on the spot, and your heart was thudding out of your chest. It was only when he suddenly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, that the alarm bells started ringing in your head.

“Let go of me, you fucking jerk!” You swore, wiggling around, your small fists landing on his muscular back. The tub of ice cream and the spoon clanked noisily onto the floor as you hit him. And your fists probably felt like feeble flies to him, because he gave you zero reaction. His iron grip on you tight as ever, Steve made his way towards the stairs. And despite being upside down, being carried like a sack of potatoes, you could feel every single man’s eye on you. Staring at you in this compromising, embarrassing position as you thrashed against Steve’s grip. “Fucking let me go, you dick! LET ME GO!”

“She’s a feisty one.” You could hear one of the men say as Steve carried you up the stairs, and you knew deep down that yelling and demanding to be let down was not going to get you anywhere. But how dare he disrespect you like that? Talking about you to those random men as if you weren’t standing right fucking there, telling them you needed to be disciplined? Picking you up like you were a fucking sack over his back?! How dare he?! You punched him in the back again.

“PUT ME DOWN, STEVE. I AM SERIOUS. PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN.”

And he did. Unceremoniously, you were dumped down on a soft, firm surface. A bed. Disoriented, you sat up and looked around. Dark, mahogany furniture, black sheets – where in the ever-living fuck were you? Was this Steve’s room? Probably. Fuck if you knew, it’s not like you had ever seen the inside of it before now.

“How dare you treat me like a common fucking whore in front of those men!” You spat out; every single word laced with venom. “How dare you, Steve! All I did was go down there to get something to fucking eat! Fuck you!” You tried to get up, planning to storm out of his room and run into yours and lock the door and just get the fuck away from him.

Easily, Steve overpowered you, roughly pushing you back down onto the bed when you tried to make a run for it. And again, you tried to get up, because fuck if you’d let this man get the best of you. You attempted to shove him aside, except he was built like a brick wall and didn’t budge an inch. That was when he grabbed your jaw roughly, jerking your face forward to meet his gaze.

“Keep fucking talking, you dumb bitch, I dare you.” He hissed, his thumb and forefinger pressing so hard into your skin, enough to bruise. “Keep acting like a childish fucking little girl and see what fucking happens to you.” He accentuated the threat by shoving you roughly up against the wall, your back hitting the hard surface with a slam, with his much larger frame pressing against your body, his arms on either side of you, effectively pinning and trapping you in the process.

You wriggled in his grip, trying to find a way out of his death grip. “Stop fucking acting like you care.” You huffed, already out of breath from trying to pry his muscular arms off you. “You had your little power trip, making yourself look like some alpha male down there, making all those men think you’re gonna beat me into submission like it’s the fucking forties or something.” You shoved hard against him again – to absolutely no avail. “So just fuck off now, because we both know you don’t give a fuck what I do or how I act. So just let me go!”

“Just shut the FUCK up.” Steve seethed, and your retort was drowned out when his hand slapped up against your mouth, palm pressing against your lips hard and rendering you mute. Biting and pushing against him proved completely useless, and with eyes filled with pure hatred, you stared up at him in quiet defiance while he spoke. “Just shut your fucking mouth. I don’t fucking want to hear your voice. You disrespectful little brat.”

This was the most Steve had spoken to you. Ever. Blonde hair falling down onto his forehead after the tussle with you, his eyes dilated and a deep navy blue. There was anger etched across his features – from the furrow between his brows to the clench of his jaw. But when he next spoke, it was eerily calm – a contrast from how rough both his words and actions had been since he’d tossed you against the wall.

“Your fucking audacity,” Steve began quietly, face inches away from yours, “To parade around downstairs in this fucking hooker get-up, acting like you’re a free piece of ass. I don’t know if you’re asking for it, or just plain fucking stupid.”

“Fuck you.” Your reply came out muffled, and Steve pretended like he didn’t even hear you.

“Not to mention that fucking mouth of yours.” He continued. “And to think I was going easy on you all this time. Excusing your behaviour ‘cause you’re young and stupid.” He shook you, hard. “Not anymore. You’re a fucking spoiled little rich brat, and clearly your daddy didn’t fucking think it was important to teach you some manners and respect.”

And before you knew what was happening, Steve had manhandled you all the way back to his bed. You scratched and clawed to try and escape his grasp, but in two seconds flat he was sitting on the side of his bed with you over his knee, your thrashing legs pinned underneath his strong thigh. Red hot embarrassment coursed through your veins – how dare he put you over his knee like this! In a position so demeaning?

“Let go of me, Steve! I swear to fucking Go–”

You were cut short when you felt his hand on your ass. His rough, calloused palm stroked the silky material of the chemise that barely concealed your bare skin, and involuntarily you sucked in your breath sharply. What the fuck was he doing?

“It’s clear you’ve never been put in your place even once in your goddamned sheltered life.” Steve spat out, his venomous words a direct contrast from the whisper-soft touch of his hand on your ass. “Fucking spoilt little rich girl, thinking you can do whatever you want and act however you want. Running your smart-ass mouth whenever you feel like it. Clearly your fucking daddy let you get away with your bullshit. Well. Maybe I can fucking teach you what he couldn’t.”

He suddenly grabbed the flesh of your ass, squeezing it lewdly, roughly. And you couldn’t help but gasp – both at his touch and at the jolt you felt between your legs. What the fuck. No. Fuck no. This wasn’t happening. He continued to fondle your ass, touching you as if you were a piece of meat on display. “What do you say, princess?” Steve asked mockingly, “How about I be your daddy, and teach you a lesson he never could?”

“You’re fucking sick.” You moaned, determinedly ignoring the way your pussy clenched at his words. With all your might, you tried once more to wiggle out of his grasp. Your motions ceased immediately when his palm cracked down on your ass. Hard. And you cried out in both pain and shock.

“You try and move one more time, and I’ll use my fucking belt.” Steve warned, the threat making your mouth run dry. You immediately fell limp against him, breathing hard from fighting this losing battle. Fuck him. Fuck him for taking you over his knee and spanking you like you were a child. You hung your head, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears of anger and embarrassment at bay.

“That’s more fucking like it.” Steve said, once more going back to squeezing your stinging ass, as if to rub salt on the wound. You bit your lip at the pain, and debated calling for help. And it seemed like he could read your mind: “And by all fucking means, yell and scream all you want. The door’s wide open, princess. They can all hear you. But if you think anyone’s coming to save you, you’re dumber than I thought.”

“You… You can’t do this.” You said, voice breaking but still having a bit of fight left in you.

Steve lifted the flimsy material of the chemise, exposing your ass to his cold stare. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I cando this. I’m the only fucking one who can do this. And you’re gonna take it. Because you deserve it. You deserve to be punished for flaunting your fucking body as if it’s not already been claimed.”

SMACK

The first hit sounded like the crack of a whip, and stung just as bad. You couldn’t help but cry out in pain, knowing you were giving him the very reaction he wanted from you. And how you wished you were stronger, calmer, cooler, more collected. You wished you hadn’t given him the satisfaction of hearing your cries of pain. But it hurt like a bitch. So then why could you feel the wetness pooling between your legs?

And it was like Steve was unleashing hell on your ass, with smack after smack raining down angrily onto your sensitive skin. It was like all his hatred rested in the palm of his hand, which cracked down against your ass with full force, making you scream every time it did.

“Dumb fucking slut.” He said through clenched teeth, the spanks never ceasing as he continued to talk. “And to think I felt sorry for you. For being forced into this. To think I left you alone. Didn’t say shit when you were in my house, using my credit card, acting like a spoilt little bitch. Complaining about everything under the fucking sun. Well guess what, princess? No more Mr. Fucking Nice Guy from now on.”

Nice?! This whole time, he thought he was being nice?

SMACK

“Please! It fucking hurts!” You whined, hating how desperate you sounded. But the searing pain radiating from your backside was making you light-headed.

“Good. It should fucking hurt. You should’ve been spanked a long fucking time ago.” Steve repositioned you on his lap, pressing his hand down on your spine so that your back arched even more, the smacks getting even more ruthless. “Disrespecting me. Going against my fucking orders. Wearing this goddamn trashy lingerie, acting like your body belongs to you. Running that fucking mouth of yours. I swear to fucking God, I hear you cuss one more time, I’ll spank you in front of all my men. Maybe that’ll shut you up.”

You felt at conflict with your body. It was humiliating, what he was doing to you and how he was speaking to you. But the daunting and demeaning words seemed to tap into the darkest recesses of your mind, and straight down to your core. It seemed like every ruthless smack to your ass made you cry in pain but it also made your pussy jolt with… With what? Desire? Want?

For him?

“Not so sassy now, are you?” Steve mocked; the spanking still relentless. You let out a sob that you had been trying hard to hold in. “Now you know what fucking happens to spoiled little brats who think they can disrespect their daddy.”

“Stop. Please, just fucki– Just stop, okay? Please!”

Steve paused, hand stopping to rest on your ass while his other one grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. “I’ll tell you what, princess. I’ll stop. But you have to apologise first. And thank me for punishing you.”

“N-No!” You cried out instinctively, despite the searing pain you were feeling.

Steve smirked, administering a series of hard smacks in quick succession, and you howled in pain, knowing your ass must be a dark and angry shade of red by now. “That’s fine. I can do this all night.”

“Please. Please, it hurts.” Swallowing your pride, you resorted to begging. You’d sooner beg than do what he was asking you to.

“You know what to do, princess.” Steve’s palm collided with your poor ass cheeks again and again,

Fuck him.

“I’M SORRY, OKAY?! I’M SORRY. PLEASE STOP!” You broke, the tears of shame and pain running freely down your cheeks. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, you thought to yourself. But the stinging pain you felt seemed to overpower any of the other conflicting emotions in your head.

“Anything else?” Steve implored, his hand hovering at the ready. You knew the threat of him continuing the spanking lay heavy in the air. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a few deep breaths.

“Th-Thank you for punishing me.”

His chuckle sounded almost sinister, and he began to stroke your ass slowly. You hissed at the pain you felt from even this feather-light contact. He really had fucked your ass up.

“Address me properly, princess.”

No. No, no, no. Not that. He was sick. You hadn’t realised the extent of his depravity.

“Do it. Or else I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for a week.” He tapped your ass lightly in warning, and you shuddered.

“Thank you, d-daddy.” You said it through gritted teeth, the fire radiating from your cheeks almost rivalling the redness of your ass. “Thank you for punishing me. I-I deserved it. Please. Please just let me go now.”

Somewhere in the middle of speaking, you had begun to cry again. It was so overwhelming – the physical pain, the embarrassment, that throbbing between your legs… Slowly, Steve lifted you, sitting you up on his knee. Wincing and crying softly when your bare ass chafed against the denim of his jeans, you subconsciously leaned into his touch when he began to stroke your hair softly.

“See, princess? See how easy it is for me to break you? To reduce you to a crying mess?” He stroked his finger against your cheek, gathering the salty tears that were drying against the soft skin. His touch was feather-soft, intimate. And you felt so humiliated, so defeated, so conflicted – and now it confused you why he was being so gentle. “Who knew all it took was a good, old-fashioned spanking to put you back in your place. I should’ve done this to begin with.”

You sniffled. No other man had ever reduced you to feeling like a humiliated, kicked puppy. “I was just… I just… Please, can I just go now?” It was like you couldn’t gather yourself, couldn’t tame your thoughts which seemed to be running every which way. All you knew was that his rough hands, his authority, his demeaning words, had awoken some sort of response in you that made your body seem to shut down completely. You were a quivering mass of nerves, ready to explode at his simplest touch.

Steve’s hand slowly slid down to your quivering thighs, and his touch there made you inhale sharply. “Why the hurry, princess? Don’t you wanna see how wet you are?”

Fuck. How did he know?

You clamped your legs together tightly, repeatedly shaking your head, “No. N-No, ‘m not wet. I’m not!”

Too easily, he overpowered you. Prying your legs open, his large hand cupped your bare pussy as if he owned it and had done it a million times before. You audibly gasped, the sudden direct contact making you almost convulse forward into his chest. You grabbed a fistful of his white shirt, scrunching your eyes shut and wishing to God that maybe Steve hadn’t noticed how much his simple touch had affected you.

“Of course you’re fucking soaking.” Steve murmured, easing a thick finger into your pussy. And you cried into his chest, hating that after beating the living shit out of your ass, this man had casually just began fingering you – and it felt so fucking good. You prayed he wouldn’t notice when you began to slowly hump against his finger, wanting to create more friction. He chuckled, “You’re a naughty fucking slut, aren’t you? All riled up and on edge, wet from a spanking. Now you want your daddy to take care of you, don’t you?”

You were too ashamed to reply, your face still buried in his chest, your tears staining his shirt and your lips bitten raw from trying to suppress your moans. Steve added another finger and increased his pace, his thumb finding your clit and causing you to cry out. He smirked, “Who knew how easy it was to get you to shut your mouth. You got nothing to say anymore, baby? Where’s my little wife who loves to run her mouth, huh? Where’s she gone?”

“Please,” You mewled softly, arching your back from the mounting pleasure, his fingers curving upwards and brushing against all the right spots. His thumb expertly massaged your clit, as if he knew your body, knew exactly how it worked. As if this wasn’t the first time he was touching you down there. “Please, I just…”

Immediately, Steve pulled his fingers out of you, your pussy making a squelching sound – as if it was trying to keep his fingers inside you. The heightened pleasure you were feeling instantly died down, and you cried out in indignation, “Wh-What! No! Please!” You gripped his forearm, “Please!”

“You don’t deserve shit after that stunt you pulled downstairs.” Steve said simply. His eyes trailed towards the open door of his room, and then back at you. He sighed, his fingers, soaking with your juices, now absentmindedly playing with the lacy hem of your chemise which now sat bunched up around your waist. “You ruined my meeting, sweetheart. And now, you’ve distracted me.”

You swallowed harshly when he took your hand, placing it on top of his clothed dick. God, he was so hard. Painfully hard.

“But that’s okay, isn’t it sweetheart? I’m sure my guests will enjoy the sound of you screaming while I fuck you.”

What sounded like a strangled gasp escaped from your throat. He was going to fuck you? Now? With all those men waiting downstairs, undoubtedly able to hear everything? God, Steve was more fucki dup than you realised. But newfound thrill shot up and down your body at the thought of being fucked by him, filled by him, satisfied – finally – by him.

He was rough as he laid you down on the black sheets of his bed. And you shuddered in fear and anticipation. Because a man ruthless enough to dumb you down to a sobbing, desperate mess was a man who should be feared. And you hated that you feared him. But what you hated even more was how much he was turning you on. His quiet power, his authority and nonchalance when it came to how he treated you. No other man had ever controlled you how Steve had managed to. No other man had had as little regard towards your feelings as he did.

“You should see yourself right now.” Steve said as he straddled your hips, undoing his belt and fly and pulling his cock out. And it was so big, hard, so angry-looking. How could he possibly fit that inside of you? He seemed unperturbed, grabbing your silk chemise and ripping it clean in half, the sound echoing around the room, and his blue eyes feasted unabashedly at your naked body below him.

“Completely dumbed out, aren’t you?” He tweaked your stiff nipple, rolling it lewdly between his thumb and forefinger. You shivered when you felt the tip of his dick nudging against your slit, stroking upwards and downwards. Involuntarily, you thrust your hips upwards. God, what had he reduced you to? Steve just chuckled in amusement, “Don’t worry, princess. I have that effect on sluts like you. Who seem to be all talk until their daddy sets them straight. Now, beg for my dick.”

“Please fuck me.” You whispered, because all you could focus on was his dick between your legs at that current moment in time, teasingly stroking your opening, sliding against the wetness but never pushing inside. And you needed him inside. You felt like you had never needed anything more. You never thought this would be you, and you never thought it would be him who made you feel this way, but here you both were.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that. Else I’ll take you downstairs and have you sit on my dick in front of all those men. Keep it warm while I finish up my meeting.”

You shuddered at the thought, but at the same time you felt your pussy clench. Fuck.

“Please, daddy!” You mewled, the final remnants of your pride leaving your body – the promise of pleasure and satiation proving too irresistible to fight against anymore. “Please. I need you to fuck me. More than anything. Please, okay? Just please. I need my daddy to fuck me. I nee– OH FUCK!”

He impaled you in a single thrust, and you screamed when he bottomed out, his hands clutching your hips to keep you in place. He was so big, way too big. And the burn felt so good, so sinfully good. You never thought your first time with your husband would be after a fight and a brutal punishment, with an audience downstairs. But in that moment, the bliss was almost overwhelming, combining with the pain that came with the sheer size of him to create this almost addicting concoction of pleasure that had you writhing underneath him, already overwhelmed – and he hadn’t even begun to move yet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes.” You cried, clutching onto his bicep for dear life as he began to move. And his pace was rapid from the start, slamming in and out of you like a man possessed. Like it wasn’t his wife he was fucking, but a common whore. One of his hands snaked up to grab your throat, squeezing tightly.

“Fuck. Who knew a slut like you could feel so fucking good and tight around my dick.” He squeezed your throat just enough to make it difficult for you to breath, “Tell me, princess. How many men have you fucked before me?”

And you told him, all the while he fucked you hard as if his life depended on it, fucked you so hard it felt like your bottom half would shatter. Kept hitting your G-spot and making you cry out and moan between answering him. And he smirked, strands of blonde hair falling down onto his forehead.

“Were their cocks as big as mine?”

“N-No, no they weren’t, oh fuck! Don’t stop!”

“Damn right, princess. I’ll ruin you for anybody else. Not that there’ll be anybody else. Because I own you. You aren’t a free piece of ass. Remember that. And you sure as hell won’t act like you are after tonight, you got that?” He continued to fuck the living daylights out of you, hoisting one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making him go even deeper. And all the while you moaned and panted and cried out with reckless abandon, not giving a fuck who could hear you.

“To think I didn’t fuck you before, didn’t claim you sooner,” Steve buried his head in the crook of your neck, biting and licking kissing at the sensitive skin there. You could feel him draw blood, and at the same time his hips seemed to move off their own accord, like a jackhammer drilling into you with no care for your wellbeing. “Could’ve had this tight fucking pussy since day one. Could’ve had you tamed and trained from the get go, if I knew how fucking submissive my cock made you.”

“Mmm, please, don’t stop! Daddy, don’t stop!” It seemed like any traces of coherence had been stripped from your mind. All you could think about was his dick, so big and angry as it pounded inside you. All you could see was his face, looming above you, so determined, so cocky. Pale skin smattered with fading white battle scars; stormy blue eyes framed with startlingly long black lashes. A strong, bumped nose that nudged against your own, his bitten pink lips hovering so close to yours.

“Tell me you’re a spoiled little girl. Tell me you need daddy to set you straight. That it’s what you’ve needed this whole time.” Steve whispered smoothly in your ear, his hands grabbing at your tits and squeezing them harshly.

“I’m…I’m a spoiled little girl!” You cried with abandon, “I need my daddy, I need my daddy to set me straight. Need you to punish me, please! Ugh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, just like that!”

“Damn right.” Steve fucked into you harder – if that was even possible – his intense gaze boring into you. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself now. Going from prancing around town acting like a spoilt rich slut, all reckless and wild with your friends. You think I didn’t see you back then? With that fucking body of yours? And now you’re in your rightful fucking place. Underneath me. Fuck, princess, I’m never letting you go. I own you.”

You didn’t even realise it was happening but you were orgasming hard. Maybe it was his words, paired with his gigantic fucking cock ramming into you repeatedly. But you came hard, pulsating around his dick, your walls squeezing him in in a way that had him groaning and you screaming his name over and over. Screaming daddy over and over like a broken doll, fucked out beyond belief and with only strength enough to grip at his biceps and hold on tight.

“Stupid fucking baby.” Steve mocked you, his hips never stopping for even a second as he rode you through your bliss, “Can’t even fucking hold it in, can you? What the fuck do you have to say for yourself, huh? How you’ve gone from cussing me out, thinking you’re hot shit… To a helpless little girl underneath me, cumming around my fucking dick like a dumb whore, when I’ve barely even started fucking you?”

Your pussy was fucked raw and sensitive, and still he didn’t let up. And you were left to the mercy of Steve’s fiery gaze, looking down at you as if he expected you to answer his insults. When he knew you were so far past the point of coherence – breathing hard and legs like jelly, pussy beginning to throb with pain when his thrusts continued to grow more merciless, his dick prodding inside you like a steel rod.

“Please.” Dainty hands reached up against his chest, “Please, it’s too…too much!” You begged; eyes spaced out yet still managing to look up at him pleadingly. You could feel the searing pain down there from the thorough fucking you were currently on the receiving end of. And Steve just smirked, as if he found it laughable that you had the audacity to ask him to slow down.

Instead, he pulled out, gliding the tip of his dick up and against your clit, giving your engorged and sensitive bundle of nerves several nudges with his hardness. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a short, breathy gasp as newfound thrill rippled through your body like a tidal wave. Fuck. He had you again. Grabbing both your arms and pinning them above your head and out of the way, Steve resumed his assault on your pussy, thrusting his cock back into your cunt with full force, and you screamed at the impact.

“Dumb fucking slut, asking your daddy to slow down. As if you weren’t made to take my dick however I want to give it to you.” He jutted against you hard, and now you were acutely aware of the headboard of the bed banging against the wall – another sound to give the men downstairs an earful of something other than your screams.

“Always fucking running your mouth, asking for shit.” Steve smirked suddenly, grinding inside you in a way that had you gripping his shirt and mewling in pleasure. “Maybe I should knock you up. Get you pregnant. Maybe that’ll make you learn to shut the fuck up and know your place.”

“Y-Yes, fuck, fuck yes, do it!” You had no idea where those words were coming from or why you were agreeing so wholeheartedly with his fucked-up desires. All you knew was that the pleasure inside of you was mounting up higher and higher, higher than it had ever been before. He could have made you agree to commit murder at that point, you were that far gone.

“No more fucking acting out. No more going out with your fucking friends. It’s all me from now on, princess. Yeah, I’ll fuck my baby into you, keep you in check from here on out. Make sure you never fucking speak unless you’re spoken to, make sure you never fucking disrespect your daddy again. The father of your fucking babies, you got that?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moaned, his dirty talk turning you on more than anything else. Tapping into the darkest recesses of your mind, as if you were programmed to accept whatever he had to say – no matter how degrading it was. “Yes, please daddy! Please fuck your baby into me. I swear I won’t act out again! I swear, I sw– OH FUCK, FUCK, OH MY GOD!”

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me.” Steve said cockily, and in a different situation you would have rolled your eyes – but you were severely incapable of doing that right now. Not that you would have dared to anyways. The pleasure was building up inside you, blindingly intense, almost unbearable. It felt like you knew nothing better than his cock inside you at that moment, and that nothing would ever beat this – the feeling of complete fullness, stuffed with his dick, pinned underneath him, completely at his mercy.

It was when he kissed you that you came. And your entire body spasmed, your screams of unadulterated pleasure swallowed by his mouth which claimed yours completely. This was the first time he had kissed you since your wedding day – and you couldn’t wrap your head around how intense it felt. His tongue swiping against yours, his lips so soft yet so firm, so knowing of exactly what he wanted. You could feel the smirk in his kiss as you squirted around his dick, making a mess of his sheets, wads of his shirt clamped tightly in your fists as you began to cry.

He fucked you like a whore but you he kissed you as if you were an angel.

“Go ahead and cry, little girl.” Steve said against your lips, “It only turns me on more.” His cock twitched, and you sucked in your breath when you felt his hot seed spurt straight inside you, filling you up. This was the first time you’d let a man cum inside you – although you were positive Steve would have done it with or without your approval. And it felt like it would never end, Steve kept on cumming inside you, filling you to the brim. Filling you till it was leaking out of your pussy in what looked like the lewdest imagery ever.

He stilled for a moment, looking down at you – surveying your trembling body, your lips which seemed to have forgotten how to speak, your tear-filled and mascara-stained face, the rise and fall of your breasts as you breathed in and out, looking back up at him with wide, weary eyes. You didn’t know what to think, you didn’t know how to think. His dick was still lodged inside of you, snug like a lock and key, and you felt empty and gaping when he pulled out.

Tucking his dick back into his pants, doing up his fly, putting on his belt, straightening his hair – Steve was methodical, and he never stopped looking at you. The air was heavy with sex and other emotions that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours and how good it felt, how it had made you cry.

“Stay here.” Steve said, once he’d got to his feet and made his way to the door. And you still lay sprawled on his bed, unable to move, and you wondered if he liked you like that. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And then he left, closing the door behind him. And he looked back only once, an almost unreadable look on his face as he gazed at you in his bed, his rumpled sheets a mess underneath you, his cum dripping out of you. And then he left you in his bedroom, dumbed out and fucked out. A moment later you could hear the muffled sound of laughter coming from downstairs. The crack of a beer can. The jeer of men. Steve’s voice loudest of all.

“All she needed was a good old-fashioned spank and fuck. She won’t be causing any more trouble – if she knows what’s good for her.”

The end.

(A/N: hopefully you guys enjoyed this! it's always fun to write bratty readers. this was my first time writing in second person, though! please do tell me what you think! and if you have any ideas for what you want me to write next, please do drop me an ask :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #dark steve rogers #chris evans #avengers #mcu #dark fic #punishment #mafia au #mob boss #mob boss steve rogers #mafia steve rogers #fanfic rec #fanfic blog #reblogging is love

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freakrenaissance · 1 year ago

Text

If I lived with bucky, the vibe would live on the charger... or he'd live between my legs 😆 I loved this! So yummy

Two Doors Down

2.5k words

Summary: Your vibrator dies mid-session, so your roommate offers to help you out.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: smut obviously, dom/sub dynamics, brief use of a vibrator, brief dry humping, cunnilingus, slight hair pulling (bucky receiving), pet names (sweet ones like honey, baby, etc. but also some on the more degrading side),scratching (bucky receiving), a healthy dose of degradation, nipple play, finger sucking, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, dumbification, slight edging but if you blink you'll miss it, let me know if I'm missing something!

While listening, I recommend you listen to enemies to lovers - a Spotify playlist by me!

"God fucking damn it!"

Your frustrated curse echoed off the walls of your bedroom, followed by a dull thump of your vibrator falling on the mattress. You sat up begrudgingly and flopped over the bed, reaching for the charger and plugging in the toy.

You huffed, sitting on the bed for a few moments before tugging your shorts back on and standing, leaving your bedroom to go explore the great unknown: your apartment.

The sound of the television was more audible when your door opened, the white and blue lights from the TV tinting the entire living room and kitchen area in a cold glow. While your eyes needed a second to adjust to the change from the dim, warm light of your room, Bucky, your roommate, was staring blankly at the television, listening to the newscaster droning on while sifting through a bowl of cereal with a spoon.

You didn't greet him, despite the tiny alarm in your head telling you it was bad manners. You stomped past him, headed for the fridge to find leftover pasta. Once a bowl was heated up, you stomped around over to the couch, flopping down beside him.

Bucky raised a brow. "You doin' alright?" He asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah."

"Then stop stabbing your pasta."

You looked down to see your fork digging into the bottom of the bowl, spearing through the noodles with more aggression than was necessary.

"I'm fine."

"Wanna tell me?"

Your mind raced just at the thought of his suggestion. "No. Nothing's wrong."

"Ah." He turned back to the television, one leg crossing over the other. "Thought it might have somethin' to do with your vibrator dying on you."

You nearly choked, head whipping around to watch him incredulously. "How-"

"TV ain't on that loud." He snorted.

You buried your face in your palms, cheeks warm. Bucky only laughed at your mortification.

"Hey, it's all good." Bucky waved a hand in dismissal, you caught it as you lifted your head. Your gaze somehow got stuck on it, specifically, his fingers. The thought of them on you made the heat in between your legs flare up again. You could practically feel them tilting your chin up, tugging your hips closer, prodding into your cunt...

Bucky seemed to notice your sudden interest, looking between your eyes to his hand and back with curiosity. He let out a soft 'ah', a grin of delight splitting his face. When you finally clocked in on his understanding, silent but knowing, you looked down in what was definitely the least subtle way possible.

"Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I can't remember a time when hands didn't get the job done."

That didn't help your embarrassment, and for some reason you continued the conversation. "Well, I can't get the right angle..."

Bucky exhaled, passing his tongue over his teeth. "Tell me to shut up if I've got the wrong idea. But I have hands." You peeked out from your hands. He wiggled his metal fingers slowly as if to prove the obvious. "I think you've noticed."

All of the thoughts you'd wrestled with moments ago came flooding in again. Sparks of excitement shot down your belly, and you swore your heartrate doubled.

You attempted to keep an even voice, but nonchalance definitely escaped you for the timebeing. "So... what's your point?"

You were terrified you might have misread the situation. That this excitement would die down and you'd be left wanting him. You needed him to tell you.

"My point is," Bucky uncrossed his legs, turning to face you and leaning forward. "That I'm offering to do what your vibrator can't."

You were shivering with excitement, voice shaking as you sighed,

"Please."

Bucky stood slowly, pushing off of the couch with his hands. His gaze was fixated on you, bordering on ravenous as he eyed you up and down. He relished the way your eyes followed his, and as a result, when he finally towered over you, he was met with a sight that made his cock throb.

You could feel your head turning cloudy, anticipation bubbling in your stomach as you peered up at Bucky. A single, metal hand came up to your chin, stroking slowly over the bone. Your eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch.

"Poor thing." Bucky tutted, shaking your head side to side a bit. "So pitiful. Can't even get off right, needs a toy to get the job done."

You whimpered when he used his grip on your jaw to make you nod yes.

"Shh, you're okay. 'M right here, gonna take good care of you. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you replied weakly.

"Good." Bucky let go of your face, opting to sit on the couch instead, legs spread wide. He patted one of his thighs, gesturing with the other. "C'mon, take a seat."

You crawled over him, hands resting on his shoulders tentatively. Bucky traced a finger up the column of your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The pressure on the underside of your jaw brought your gaze upwards.

"Gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, dove, think y'can do that?"

You nodded slowly, itching to move but frozen in place by his attention.

"Good." Bucky's hand was a whisper around your throat, quickly finding its home again on your jaw. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, to which your mouth fell open oh so slightly.

His lips quirked in amusement. His thumb pressed down, earning your jaw lowering further. Two fingers slipped past your lips to settle on your tongue and you happily took them, one hand coming to hold his wrist in place while you suckled.

His free hand began rising up your hips, and you straightened your posture at the feeling, almost tickling. They descended just after his thumb grazed your lower chest. You gasped around his fingers, and his subtle raise of brow made your cheeks heat.

You squeezed his wrist, and it moved from your mouth to your waist. Hands reaching for the back of his neck, you tugged him forward into a sloppy kiss.

Bucky wasn't sure where the line was before. He understood that he had struck a purely sexual deal offer, so kissing for some might be too intimate an exchange under those circumstances, but Christ did he love the feel of your mouth on his. The clash of teeth and spit, your soft moans swallowed up into his own mouth sounding like heaven. Even more so when he sucked on your tongue, pride coursing through his veins when you squeaked.

And oh, you just couldn't help it, when you started rocking your hips back and forth. It was his fault really, teasing you so much.

"So fuckin' needy, angel, just can't wait, huh?" Bucky groaned, head falling back for a minute before jerking back up. "Need to get you taken care of, isn't that right?"

You nodded pathetically, brain long turned to mush. Your senses, every atom in your body was on fire and so, so sensitive, but your head was empty.

And Bucky knew it.

Which is why he lifted you up, strong hands supporting you under the thighs, which wrapped around his torso to keep you up. Bucky groaned, the feel of your legs around his waist sending blood rushing to his cock.

It was a messy trip to your room, to say the least. Bucky had to stop multiple times in the hallway to press you up against the wall and stick his tongue in your throat, rutting into you and breathing heavy into your mouth. His groans were pure sin and you wanted to pull as many of them from him as you could.

Bucky set you down gently, but as you laid, he remained, towering over you with hungry eyes and bated breath.

"Look at you," Bucky grazed his metal fingers over your cheek. "So fuckin' needy, hm? So desperate, you just hop on the first dick you see."

His words didn't even register, not when his leg was pressed right between your legs, so you nodded along dumbly.

He chuckled, almost a bark of a laugh. "Lucky I'm here to take care of you, hm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, your feeble grip on his shirt attempting to tug him closer. "Please, Bucky, need you to take care of me, please..."

"Alright, alright, I've gotcha." Bucky leaned in, pressing wet kisses to your neck whilst his fingers slipped under your shirt, grazing feather-light over your nipples. You could feel him smirk when you arched into his touch.

"Can we take this off, baby?" His voice was soft, and you nodded, pulling your hands up so he could bare your chest.

Bucky gave a groan at the sight, his mouth traveling downward to press licks and kisses over your chest. He pressed his palm over your ribs, indicating you to lie back. Bucky followed, propped up on his arm. His other hand walked up the inside of your thigh, making you shudder into him.

"Buck, please," you breathed, eyes rolling back.

"Nuh uh, none of that." Bucky's hand was quick to reach up and grasp your jaw, this time with more force. "Eyes on me."

He nodded your head for you. He maintained a more intense stare as he moved, slowly and deliberately, down between your thighs. He watched you as he kissed up and down your thighs, pressed his thumb into the junction between your cunt and your leg, pressed a firm kiss to the area just above your clit. Your hips jerked up, following his touch.

"I know, I know. Bein' so patient, so proud of you." Bucky purred, tugging your bottoms down in one go. "And would you look at that, no underwear. God, you're soaked."

Bucky actually moaned at the sight, like the idea of going down on you was pleasurable for him. And Lord, was it.

He started with, for lack of better word, toying with you, thumbs pulling your lips apart to watch your slick web from them. Even though he wasn't watching your face anymore, your eyes were glued to him. His fascinated expression, his strong arms holding your legs apart, his toned back rippling under every movement- somewhere along the line he had lost the shirt; you couldn't remember when but Christ was it better he did.

You nearly levitated off the bed when a finger came to collect your slick onto your clit, followed by lips attaching to the nerves and tonguing over it lasciviously.

Your hesitancy to make noise had gone out the window the minute his mouth was on you, jaw falling open to let out your sounds of bliss. The only thing keeping your head from falling back was the sight in front of you; Bucky was pure sex incarnate. His head swayed back and forth, groans and muffled praises vibrating against your skin, hair tickling your thighs.

"Taste so damn good angel, so fuckin' wet." Bucky tugged you impossibly closer- you swore you saw his hips moving into the sheets. "Should let your vibrator die more often."

Your breath had all but escaped you, coming out ragged and whiny. Your hands reached for his hair, tugging at the roots softly- harder when he groaned louder, sending both of you into a frenzy.

"Fuck, Bucky, right there, fuckfuckfuck-" your noises, if even possible, got louder when the man under you found just the right spot to prod his finger. It slipped in so easily, the wetness helping you welcome him in.

It didn't take Bucky long to figure out where that spot was inside of you, pulling moan after gasp after cry of his name once he bullied his fingers into it just right. He repeated the motion until there was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, grasping onto his hair, his arm, whatever of him you could find as if he was your lifeline.

"Oh, just like that, so close Buck..." You kicked your hips up into his face, rolling them for any kind of friction you could get- friction he was elated to give you.

You nearly sobbed when he pulled his face away from you, fingers leaving your pussy feeling unbearably empty.

"I know, honey, I know. Gonna give you something even better, hm? Gonna give you my cock, fill y'up real nice."

You almost drooled at the sight of Bucky sat up, nothing but sweats being hastily pulled down until the bulge fell heavily over the band. He kicked his bottoms away to some forgotten corner, stroking himself languidly a few times, kicking his head back.

You whined a bit at the lack of attention, thighs pressing together. That seemed to have alerted Bucky, as he tilted his head back down to face you. "Sorry, sunshine. Won't keep you waitin' any longer, yeah?"

Bucky lined himself up with you, teasing your sopping entrance with the tip. However, when your legs hooked around his waist, just like before, all notions of control were lost on him as he sheathed himself inside of you. A guttural groan, more sensual and more animalistic than before, ripped through him and sent sparks shooting into you. He stretched you deliciously, the friction electrifying.

"Don't fuckin' clench, holy shit- not gonna last long," Bucky huffed, rocking slowly into you. He was leaned over your body, almost folding you in half so that he could mutter filthy praises into your ear, tonguing at the shell of it lightly.

If he wasn't gonna last, what could be said of you? Your orgasm was approaching fast, if your throbbing cunt and frantic moans were any indication.

"There we go, y'gonna cum? Fuckin' cum for me, honey, make a mess on my cock, go on."

White-hot pleasure drowned you as you scratched faint pink lines down Bucky's chest. This time your eyes screwed shut, but Bucky chose instead to help you ride out your high, pistoning into you until he let himself go, filling you up in a way that left you feeling warm and full and very, very satisfied.

Only the sound of yours and Bucky's panting could be heard in the room, the air suddenly thick and musky with the smell of sex.

After a moment, he pulls out, murmuring 'shit' to himself a few times. "Gonna get you cleaned up, 'kay?" Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, picking his boxers up on the way to his ensuite bathroom and coming back with a rag a minute later.

"Feeling alright?" Bucky asks. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you were great." You huffed, a stupid hazy grin tugging your lips. "Bit thirsty, that's about it."

"Noted," he mused. "I meant it, by the way."

You cocked your head. "Meant what?"

"You should let your vibrator die more often. I'm just two doors down, and I reckon I know a few more tricks than that piece of junk you've got." He gestures to the vibrator, which had fallen onto the floor at some point.

You definitely made sure to keep that in mind.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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