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sytoran · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟐 — 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌

kinktober day 012 | agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader

you're eating your wife out under her office desk as she speaks to - or least, attempts to speak to - her military soldiers. tinged with the angst of a classic 1940s 'forbidden' sapphic romance.

cont. office sex, fingering, edging, angst (what a combo) word count. 2065

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“Oh, babe, m’so close,” Peggy gasps in pleasure, gripping onto the handles of her arm chair, as your fingers curl inside her pretty cunt.

“Almost there already?” you tease, mouthing at her pretty breasts and leaving light marks with your teeth. “I haven’t even been here that long, Agent Carter.”

“Enough with the Agent Car- Oh, just shut up and fuck me properly,” she responds exasperatedly, hands twisting into the navy green of your military uniform. You move your fingers in tight little circles, smirking as she throws her head back.

These forbidden little trysts that always ended up in Peggy’s office fed into every one of your desires and fantasies. As much as the element of ‘forbidden’ excited you to no end, there was always this sick little want in your mind to show Peggy off, show everyone how good you made her feel, show everyone that you were the only person who could make her feel like this.

Today is no different, the both of you in Peggy’s office. You had purposefully left the door closed but unlocked, only with the woman’s reluctant agreement. That thought in itself, that any of her soldiers could see her unravelling like this — that thought made you so, so wet.

When Peggy brings her hands up your shirt to palm at your tensed abdomen, you feel a surge of arousal, and it causes you to slam the back of her chair against her office desk with need. Peggy whines beautifully as you tower over her with purpose, hands wrapping around her pretty neck to kiss her.

You get lost in the haze of lust, only registering Peggy’s stifled moans and those pathetic whimpers, only registering her warmth and wetness clenching needily around your fingers.

“Coming!” Peggy cries out, and just as you’re about to push your fingers once more against her sweet spot, there’s a knock on the door.

“Agent Carter, it’s important,” a gruff male voice sounds from behind the door.

You halt your movements, eyes locking with the brunette, fingers stilling themselves inside her cunt.

You don’t miss the way Peggy’s eyes dart to the door in fear, her breath hitching, but her hips still trying to chase that pleasure.

It excites you.

“You have to go,” Peggy squirms under your grasp that holds her still. “We can’t be seen-”

“You want me to jump out the window of the sixth floor?” you ask seriously, helping to button up her blouse. She looks so pretty, with her face flushed and her lipstick smeared. You swipe a thumb along the bottom of her lip to clean it up, and Peggy looks at you pleadingly.

“Agent Carter, it’s the 107th Infantry Regiment here to see you.”

With a determined huff, Peggy lifts up a leg and promptly kicks you under her desk, the heel getting you in the side. “Come in,” she says loudly, glaring at you as your face screws up in pain.

Eyes narrowing at her brattiness, you reach up from under the desk and pull off the entirety of Peggy’s grey skirt in one fluid motion just as the door swings open, leaving her completely bare and vulnerable from the waist down. Her panties were still in your pocket, saved for further use.

Peggy lets out a strangled sound of frustration mixed with pleasure as she rolls her armchair into place, hiding her nudity from view of the entering soldiers. This means that you’re face-level with her bare, glistening cunt, and it doesn’t take a genius to find out what you’d do with that.

“Agent,” the soldiers chorus as you make yourself comfortable under the table. You’re seated cross-legged, gripping at Peggy’s thighs, mouth dangerously close to her throbbing cunt.

“R-Right, this better be important,” Peggy begins, clearing her throat and trying to regain her composure. Her hands are clammy, nails digging into her palms in an attempt to calm her growing arousal.

Your hot breath is on her wetness, unbelievably simulating, and your presence under her desk while her soldiers were in the same room was electrifying.

“It is,” that same gruff voice sounds, and you recognize it as Bucky Barnes. He was a bit too arrogant for your liking, and you detested the way he looked at Peggy sometimes.

She was yours.

Your hands slide up the length of Peggy’s bare legs, dragging goosebumps along with the gentle touch, then grabbing fistfuls of the sides of her ass.

Peggy jerks in her seat, and you can imagine her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

“Is something the matter, ma’am?” another voice asks. It’s Steve Rogers, Mr. Captain America. You feel another round of jealousy coursing through your bloodstream. It was no secret around camp that he had a puppy love for your lady.

You wrap your bulky, muscled arms around her big thighs, forcefully prying them apart as your tongue pushes into the slit of her leaking pussy. Peggy was already sensitive from before, and the sensation of your long tongue entering her cunt made Peggy let out a disguised moan.

“I- oh, I- I think that I’m just a bit unwell today,” the agent says with a quavering voice, forcing a polite smile onto her face in an attempt to hide the pleasured expression that fights its way there.

“Sorry to hear that, Agent Carter,” Steve offers sympathetically. “We’ll make this quick. We've got new intel on the Red Skull and we think he's a more dangerous threat than we initially envisioned."

When you start dragging your tongue up and down in long stripes, teasing at Peggy’s entrance but not truly letting her experience a high, she knows that her squelching sounds would be embarrassingly loud if she didn’t do something.

Peggy reaches for the remote and turns up the Stark-sponsored fan to its highest setting. The loud whirring sound creates more noise, and you gladly take the opportunity to dive into her cunt, tongue lapping fervently at the wet heat like you were worshipping a sacred temple.

“I’m just – oh, Christ – have a – mhm, bit of a fever going,” Peggy says brokenly, fanning at herself with an awkward chuckle. She’s screaming internally, your mouth buried in her pussy like you would nest in there forever.

"Right,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “So we thought we might need more backup before our infiltration into the HYDRA base. The senior-rank soldiers, Agent Carter, if you could allow us that permission."

Peggy nods, the words going in one ear and flying out the other. Your fingers are in action now, as well,

"We know that it's a last-minute change,” another soldier says, and Peggy looks in his general direction but she can’t even focus on how he looks like to recognise him. Her vision is swimming, her thoughts are dizzying.

The centre of her universe was you.

She was so close. So, so close.

But you leave her hanging there, at the edge of a precipice, between inexplicable pleasure and unrecoverable shame.

Peggy almost sobs.

"Changes like that have to be made in the face of all possible scenarios,” Peggy says, clamping her thighs around your head. It helps fractionally with the overwhelming arousal, and the agent desperately seizes that small chance. “I appreciate you all coming to me with this information. It should take a bit of paperwork to settle but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Agent Carter,” Steve says sincerely, and you roll your eyes under the desk at the stupid smile you can hear in his voice. She was yours. You push your fingers in a little deeper.

Fuck, Peggy needs it. Needs to release all that pent-up arousal.

"Oh, Agent Carter, have you seen Lieutenant L/N? We want to ask her about the added arms and ammunition," you hear Bucky ask, and you almost snort into Peggy’s dripping cunt.

"No, I don't suppose I've seen her around,” Peggy forces out, trying to subtly grind her hips against your face. She’s that desperate, that needy for the pleasure you’re dangling in front of her.

You’d been edging her, controlling her pleasure like you were a puppeteer and she was your marionette.

She needs it. She needs it or she’s going to die.

"Is that all?"

“Yes, Ma’am,” Bucky answers, and following his lead are the rest of the soldiers who leave Peggy’s office in an orderly manner.

Your two fingers curl in the glory of her dampened cunt, tongue still lapping at the flowing nectar that tastes like honey to your lips.

Finally, Peggy cries internally. Finally, she can get her sought-after release—

"Peggy," Steve begins desperately, putting his hands on the edge of the desk you’re sitting under. He’d hung around while the others had filed out, clearly wanting to speak to the agent.

Oh, fuck no.

Peggy wants to cry in frustration at her prolonged denial of pleasure, and you fume in deadly silence. How dare he address her by her first name, with more fondness than a close friend. How dare he think he’s good enough for your Peggy–

"About that dance I asked you to-" Steve continues, none the wiser to the raging conflict going on beneath the surface.

Your fingers thrust deep into Peggy’s sweet spot, and a lewd squelch sounds, and it takes everything in her willpower not to cry out your name. Steve is too flustered to notice, and Peggy thanks the heavens for his oblivious nature.

"I'm not–, in- oh, interested, Rogers. Exit my office now.”

By the grace of some God, Steve takes ‘no’ as an answer. The dejected man hangs his head, turning around in resolution. Peggy’s vision is blurring, not because she feels for Rogers, but because the amount of pleasure you’re filling her to the brim with.

She can feel you, gripping the flesh of her thighs and leaving dark fingerprints, your tongue ever so languidly tracing the outline of her dripping hole, just waiting for the opportune moment like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

The door’s barely clicked shut before you’re making the most carnal noises into Peggy’s cunt, tongue diving deeper than what she thought was physically possible. “Oh, mhmm, fuck!” she cries, head thrown back as she weaves her fingers into your hair.

“You have no idea,” you growl, throwing both of Peggy’s legs over your shoulders to give you better access. “No fuckin’ idea how much I wanted to make you cum in front of that good-for-nothin’. Make him see you become such a fucking slut for me.”

Peggy mewls, practically humping your face, so insanely desperate for you to make her feel good. She can’t differentiate your rough hands or your long tongue, stimulating her across her whole body, like a raging fire has been ignited and it can’t be doused.

“Please,” Peggy pants, one of her hands going to grip the top of her armchair, trying to reach a semblance of non-existent control. “Oh,” she moans, husky and low, when your nose bumps against her enlarged clit. You proceed to do it repeatedly, and Peggy’s frighteningly close to passing out from sheer pleasure.

“Say you’re mine,” you whisper, almost unheard.

Peggy hears the desperation in your voice. Like she’s not the only one who’d die without your touch. Like she’s more than just a simple game of cat-and-mouse. Like you’re not the forsaken lovers who’ll go down in the history books as ‘best friends’.

Like the two of you could ever be something more.

But it doesn’t matter, not now when she’s crying for your touch, and not ever.

“I’m yours,” Peggy answers, with more resolution in her voice than any military call, with more steadfastness in her voice than she would ever care to admit. It’s a promise, a sacred one, and with that the two of you were bound.

All it takes is a harsh curl of your fingers into Peggy’s sweet spot that has her coming undone, ropes and seals unwinding for the maker that is you.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls over Peggy’s body, white-hot liquid making its way into the crooks and crevices of your face Peggy found her religion in.

The look that passes between the two of you as Peggy finally topples over the ledge is unsaid. It doesn’t need to be said. It can’t be said.

I’m with you till the end of the line.

"in the crooks of your body, i find my religon." -sappho

how was the characterization of peggy? it's my first time writing for her, and it was pretty interesting as compared to writing for natasha and wanda. i mean, peggy's speech is generally more refined, and i would think she would be more prudish about sex in general. (my personal opinion, i've never watched her series)

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#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #peggy carter x reader #marvel smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #peggy carter x reader smut #peggy carter #the winter soldier #top reader #dom reader #1940s

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fleuraimer · 1 month ago

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Something with dumbification, please!! Anything from the smut starters would be amazing

oooh ok coming right up! kinda made my own prompt/au for this so hope u like nonnie <333

wc: 1.6k

cw: smut. minors dni. 17+. alcohol consumption. d/s dynamics. oral (m receiving). dacryphilia. degradation&dumbification kink. pet name bunny. pls lmk if i missed anything!!

Y/N never thought she'd find herself intertwined with the likes of a biker gang.

They say love makes people do crazy things, though.

"C'mere, Bunny!" Bucky shouts over the commotion swirling through his house, cold neck of a beer bottle clutched in his large, tattooed hand. She glances at him from her spot by the television, where she'd been conversing with the other girlfriends' and female members. Though, suddenly their once riveting topic of conversation is no longer interesting to her.

She knuckles out of her position sat between Peggy, Steve's girl, and Natasha, another member, on the couch with a half-hearted mumble of departure—a departure met with hootin' and hollerin' from her girls', cheering her on in her rousing endeavors. She throws them a desperate look over her shoulder, something that surely reads as please, shut the hell up. They snicker amongst themselves, but otherwise leave her be.

The excitement running through Y/N's body—butterflies with flower petals for wings, fluttering—blooming—soft in her stomach, strays squeezing their way into her throat, stuttering her words—is solely a product of the man beckoning her. She's practically skipping over to his place by the pool table, cue clasped in the hand not holding his beer.

Her enthusiasm is decidedly muted, no less—forcibly subdued—when her approach comes to stop in front of him, hands cradled behind her back, lashes fluttering with her demure gaze peering up at him from underneath. She bites her lip to suppress a giddy smile.

"Hi, Bucky," she mumbles to him as his fist—fingers still clutching the neck of the bottle—moves to her waist, along the side, up to the expanse of her back over her cherry red, tight blouses, through the space between her arms and arching back. He tugs her into him, making her stumble over her feet—legs like Bambi's, just like her eyes, button nose, and pretty, sweet lips—and fall into his chest. Her fingers unfurl from behind her back to swing in front and grip at his pecs, steadying herself there.

He smiles down at her, fond, "Hi, Bunny."

They're pulled from their little bubble when a hand shoves into Bucky's broad shoulder.

"C'mon, Dude, y'brought her over here to help us, not eye-fuck 'er in front of everyone," his pool partner, Sam, groans exasperatedly, though her throws Y/N a sly wink over Bucky's shoulder. She smiles, and shakes her head at his pointless antics.

Bucky sets his drink, harder than necessary, on the ledge of the pool table. Starts to turn, with this ridged, irate look in his eye that has Y/N bringing her hands up to keep his shifting shoulders facing her, not keen to wipe blood from his knuckles.

"He's teasin'," she whispers to him, right hand sliding up the thick of his neck, to his ticked jaw to cradle, thumb soothing over his chiseled cheek. He barely flits his gaze to her's before he's trying to spin out of her hold again—iron-clad, surprisingly, for someone so Bambi-like.

"He's fuckin'—"

"Teasin'," she says again, firmer this time. She brings his eyes back to her's, "What'd you need me for?" Bucky looks at her with that same indignant spark, merely dulled, and his shoulders sag with defeat.

"What was it y'was tellin' me 'bout the other day, the law of— 'f inflection?"

Y/N snorts, smile curling at the edges of her lips, but she can't help the flutter in her heart at his words. He'd been listening, remebered even—incorrectly, but, it's the thought that counts—what she was talking about when she'd been prattling on and on, mindlessly, about her latest physics assignment.

"The Law of Reflection?" She mutters up to him. He nods cartoonishly, and her smile widens. She reaches for his pool cue, "May I?"

He offers her the cue and then lifts his hands in surrender, smirk hinting at his mouth. "S'all yours, Bunny."

She takes the cue and turns on her heel to face the pool table, unfazed by the many eyes surrounding her, watching the game between Sam and Bucky, and Steve and Tony unfold.

"The Law of Reflection states that when light reflects off a smooth surface, the angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence," she assesses the position of each pool ball still sat on the table. "Stripes?" she mutters to her biker, getting a rumbling grunt in response. She nods, and bends to lean against the table, lining the cue up with a ball. "In other words, if you hit the ball into the ledge at a 60 degree angle—" she shuts one eyelid, focuses on the projection in her mind, mumbles just loud enough for those around her to hear, "—it should bounce back off at the same angle," and gives the ball a sure nudge. It rolls into the side of the pool table at said 60 degree angle, and bounces off the exact same way, opposite direction, directly into the middle left pocket. She smiles to herself, and stands to her full height, "Simple."

It was most certainly not simple, if the confounded looks gracing the faces of every biker listening to her mini lesson is anything to go off of. She only cares about one biker, though, and turns to face him immediately after finishing her presentation.

"Y'get it?" she chirps, going where Bucky guides her as he wraps his arm back around her waist, pulling the pool cue from her hand.

"Yeah, Bun, I got it," he smiles at her, pressing a kiss into her temple. He doesn't get it, but he knows if he drags her over here next week to do it all again, she'd explain it with that same pretty smile on her face. "Smart girl, is that what them fancy college courses been teachin' you?"

She smiles sheepishly, nods.

He drops his head down to her height, lips to the shell of her ear. "Tryna make me look stupid n'front 'f my boys?"

The deepness of the infliction of his tone—something reserved for her, dark and in need a satiating, raw and searching for a place to reside, a cave of refuge, a hole—heightens her senses and makes them all fuzzy in the same moment.

Her lashes flutter, eyelids suddenly heavy.

"N— No, Bucky! Never."

"Hmm," he hums, dismissive. The hand pressed to the small of her back slips lower, down to the swell of her plush ass, gripping, squeezing. "You'll jus' have't make it up t'me later, won't you, Bunny?" He knocks his knuckle under her chin, pool cue shifted as far from her face as possible, to make her look at him.

She nods, eyes flitting down to his soft lips. "Yes, Sir."

He pats her bottom twice, "Good girl, now go back there to y'girl's, Bunny, and sit pretty f'me."

——

On her knees, hands folded behind her back, with his cock shoved down her throat, is how she makes it up to him.

"Tell me, Bunny," he grunts, fingers dug into her scalp, dragging her mouth along his tongue, spit-slicked lips sucking, spit-soaked tongue petting, laving against the girth of his shaft, stretching the corners of her mouth, straining.

"Hmph hmm," she noises, eyes wet and lashes clumpy. He yanks her off with a stinging tug to her hair. Webs of drool cling from her mouth to the length of his cock as she pants, hiccoughs short breaths and claws into the flesh of her forearms. "Don' 'member, Sir," she whines, reaching to slip his cock back between her lips. He keeps her off by his grip in her hair, smirks all mean like when the tears bordering her lash line leak down to her rosy cheeks.

"Don' remember?" he croons, pressing a thumb past her parted lips. "C'mon, Bunny, think f'me—what happened to my smart girl?" She whimpers, melting into his hold, allowing him to move her—control her, like a puppeteer, fingers tangled in strings, steering their toy.

"Can't!" She cries after a brief moment of thought.

"Yes, you can," he groans, pulling her sweet, crying face into his cock, hips canting up to smear her pouting lips over the swollen, ruddy tip. "Tell me, Bun, tell me what y'been learnin' in all those fancy classes a'yours."

Her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter, tongue unfurling from her mouth, lapping at his hard cock. He moves a hand down to smack her cheek, not soft but not hard, just enough to bring her back.

"Fuckin' tell me, Bunny."

"Don' know!" she whines, lips downturned in a frown. "S'too hard, Sir, I don' know, can'— I can't—"

"Shh, shh shh," Bucky hushes her, reaffirming his grip in her scalp with one hand and fitting his other one to the curve of her jaw, bringing her back down on his cock, tip forced between her blubbering lips. He watches as the thick length of him disappears inside her soft, hot little mouth, groans long and low and deep as he sinks into her throat, head tossed back and Adam's apple bobbing as her button nose nuzzles into the sparse trail of hair at his navel. "Dumb Bunny," he mumbles sweetly as his head rolls forward, eyes fluttering to his smart, cockdrunk girl on her knees for him. "Little, useless thing, only good f'takin' m'cock in all y'tight holes, yeah?"

She gurgles something incoherent against him—mouth drooling, leaking over him, pooling at his full balls—that has his hips stuttering, cock forced farther (if that's even possible) down her throat while he moans from the vibrations of it, rocking through him, from the tip of his cock to the tips of his toes.

"Shit!" he curses, chest starting to shake with a soft laugh. "S'a good girl; forget y'fancy homework but y'always r'member how't suck m'cock, don'chu Baby?"

She nods from under his oppressing grasp on her hair.

He snorts, "Yeah, my dumb fuckin' bunny."

——

a/n: bang! bang! slumber party continues!! hope u like :))

not edited/proofread!!

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