Fade Into You - Chapter Five

Fade Into You - Chapter Five

SUMMARY ✦ Your feelings for Vader are starting to become harder and harder to control.

WARNING(S) ✦ a little suggestive, slight nsfw warning

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

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i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

antsy

pairing— andy barber x fem!reader

word count— idk i wrote this on tumblr app

summary— andy wants to get rough in the kitchen

warnings— rough andy barber, kitchen sex, fingering, talks of eating food, face patting

authors note— chile this is so bad, i’m so sorry PLEASE REBLOG THIS AND MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AND DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You were standing in the kitchen when he got home, putting away the last couple of bits of shopping. You heard him drop my keys in the bowl by the front door, and called out a hello, and he replied in kind.

"How was your day?"

"Antsy! Nothing in particular, just a low tolerance for for stupid people in supermarkets. Oh, and all the idiots seemed to be out on the roads today."

He steps up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling your neck.

"Well it's chill time. I'll make dinner in a bit. What do you want?"

"Mmmmm" is the only reply he gets.

"If you're antsy, does this help, or make it worse?" He ask as his left hand comes up to hold your right breast through your blouse. You release a quiet gasp and wriggle your hips into his,

"I'm not sure 'antsy' is the word I'd use to describe how you're feeling. What about this? Does this help?" He sweeps the hair away from the back of your neck and kiss it gently. He feels your weight leaning on him as he nips it gently with his teeth, then more as he opens his mouth wider and bites gently just below your hairline. Your hips are rotating against him, grinding against nothing; greedy for ... something. Anything.

He holds your neck in his teeth possessively, and raises his hand from your breast, letting his fingers scratch over your nipple, which brings another gasp and wriggle. He closes it around your throat, adjusting his grip carefully. You freeze your movements, just ragged, uneven breathing. That's not his grip - He’s just holding you - that's you being so horny you're almost forgotten how to exhale.

Andy pulls you back against him, spins you around and pushes you back against one of the tall cupboards, moving in to bite and nibble your neck , pinning you in place by your hair. You think you can trust him not to leave marks, but you're not entirely certain; there's no fucking way you're going to stop, or even pause to check. He tugs your blouse from your skirt and reaches up a hand, pulling your bra clear of your breast.

"Did you say 'antsy', my love? I'm not certain that's the word I'd use." He takes your nipple between his fingers and squeeze it gently. Then harder. Then HARD. Your eyes and mouth both flash open at the same time, and you gasp. "I'd say you're horny as fuck", Andy growls in your ear as he eases the pressure. You make no response, so he takes you by the throat again and give you another tight squeeze of the nipple.

"Look at me."

Your eyes open, glassy and not really focussing.

"No, LOOK at me," as he squeezes hard. "Pay attention, don't break eye contact."

Now he had your undivided attention. He grabs the hem of your skirt and give it a sharp tug, pulling the press studs apart with a pleasing staccato patter. He checks that your panties are daytime-sexy, not special occasion-sexy before he grabs the waist in his fingers and pulls them away from you, hard. He hears the threads start to creak and part before they give up. That's going to leave a mark on the inside of your groin. He lets the ragged scrap fall to catch on your knee. That's a memento for later. He kicks your legs farther apart, to reach down to separate your lips and gather your moisture. He barely needs to; you're so fucking wet, it practically drips onto his fingers. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, and join them with his tongue. He wants to fucking consume you. To kiss you with more violence, with more teeth and nips and bites and more ... everything.

He pulls away from you and your eyes are closed again. You try to open them, but they're glazed with lust once more, and you're barely there. He kisses you, draws back and pats your face, squeezing your nipple again.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your eyes open?”

He knows it's unfair but he doesn’t care that it's unfair.

He reaches underneath you again and draw your slickness forward from your cunt to your clit and you hiss; He repeats the movement again, and again, and again. Your knees start to wobble and he can see you're concentrating on the feelings, and starting to give in to the orgasm.

"Eyes...", He growls. He gets your attention back, but he can tell it's all getting a bit much. This time as he reaches back, He slides two fingers into you, slick and unresisted, then three, beckoning you. He can feel you starting to crest.

"Eyes!"

You snap back, you're trying so fucking hard, and He’s making it so fucking difficult.

He lets his thumb start to caress your clit, and his little finger scrapes over your asshole. You're so wet, but he can hear and feel you getting wetter. He knows you're not going to be able to hold on for much longer.

"EYES!"

He can feel your effort, but you have no chance of obeying.

"Please can I cum?"

"Not yet, just hold on a little longer."

"I can't hold it, I need to cum!"

He knows you do.

"Nearly there"

"I'm going to cum!"

"Not yet! In 10. 9. 8... 7..."

"Fuuuuuck"

He continues counting down

"Fuuuuucking hell! Fuuuuck!

"3 ..."

"2 ..."

"1. Come for me. Let me fucking hear it. Come as hard as you can"

There's a beat of silence, every muscle in your body is locked rigid, and then it comes. He can't spell the noises you make; the shrieks as your pussy gushes all over his arm; the gasps as your fingers grip his shoulders, the nails biting hard; the incoherent noises as your legs wobble and give up and he takes your full weight and he lowers you both to the kitchen floor. He eases off as you pull him in with your arms. There's no talking yet, and there won't be for a while. He can feel your juices seeping through his pants , and it makes him smile. He can feel your ragged breathing, and it makes him smile. He can feel your arms squeezing him tightly, and it makes him smile.

"I fucking love you."

"I fucking love you too."

Steve x Reader: clandestine meetings and stolen stares (One Shot)

Plot: Who knew Steve Rogers had kept such a pretty little secret?

or, the one where you were Peggy’s young, promising assistant until you became Steve Roger’s doll.

Tags: dark!steve, cheating steve, asshole steve, smoking, politician!steve, senator!steve, AGE GAP, drinking, SMUT, NASTY SMUT, INFIDELITY, spit play-ish (mentioned kinda?), cum play, yn is a mistress, poor peggy, cockwarming, no feminism here, daddy kink, dom!steve, reluctant to consensual

(A/N: This is my entry for #sugary4kchallenge of @donutloverxo​!! Congrats on 4k bby <3 )

Rest of the sugardaddies here!

Keep reading

Look, Don’t Touch

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise kink, vaginal sex, public sex (they’re in a sex club), slight bicep choking, masturbation. This is literal porn without plot. 18+.

A/N: Written for @whisperlullaby’s 700 follower challenge!

I have to thank @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for helping me with the kinks for this one! I hope you like it Becca! I’ve gifted you with three of our fictional daddies for this one. Even though two of them only play a small role. I wonder if you can figure out who they are 👀

“Look at them. Can’t keep their eyes off that little pussy swallowing up my dick.” He purred, catching the shell of your ear between his teeth, your knees trembling as you tried to remain upright on his lap. “Bet they’d do anything to switch places with me right now, do anything to have such a pretty little slut at their mercy.”

You watched as they stroked their cocks, the hunger they felt for you obvious in the way that they stared. They were fixated as they looked you over, your cunt clenching around Andy’s girth, letting him know just how much you were enjoying yourself. Your eyes glazed over, the blur of the two bodies standing just feet away from you fading slightly.

“Do you think they’ve ever had a girl as precious as you, Sweetheart?” He didn’t want an answer, you knew that. And you couldn’t have given one if you tried, garbled whimpers catching in your throat as he rutted up into your soaking wet heat. “I bet they haven’t. Wanna know how I know?”

All you could do was nod your head before letting it fall back on his shoulder, his open mouth breathing against your cheek.

“I know they haven’t, because my girl is one of a kind. So fuckin’ sexy, body to die for. And this right here,” he reached his arm around your waist, snaking it down over your belly and between your thighs, “this pussy is the sweetest little hole I’ve ever fucked.”

“Andy, fuck.”

He’d always been full of praise for you. In and out of the bedroom. But this? This was something entirely new.

When he’d suggested bringing you to the most prominent sex club in Boston, you hadn’t for a second thought it’d end up like this. The black, velvet couch he leant back into while he fucked you was a far cry from the soft, cotton sheets of your bed.

You had no idea that you liked being watched, liked having him show you off like you were his favourite possession. Yet here you were, grinding down on his perfect length while the two mysterious strangers in front of you enjoyed every second of it.

You watched through half-lidded eyes as the brunette ran the tip of his thumb across his slit, collecting up the pearly drops that glinted in the low light and smearing them down his erection; his steely blue eyes searing into you.

“And these,” Andy reached with both hands to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples around in his fingertips and releasing them with a soft pinch, “I just know wanna get their mouth on these, Sweetheart.”

Your feet braced against his knees, warmth filling your belly, you rose up, sliding back down onto him and winding your hips from side to side. You wanted to put on a show, you wanted them to want you. Knowing you were safe in Andy’s arms, that nobody was going to touch you without his express permission - and he’d never give it - was liberating.

“That’s it,” he encouraged proudly, “show them just how much you love riding my dick. Show them how you work that body.”

You settled your hands on his shoulders behind you, his lips brushing against the top of your spine, fucking down onto him over and over; desperate cries ringing out over the music gently thrumming from the speakers.

Your eyes flitted to the blonde, his muscular biceps straining beneath the confines of his short sleeved, black t-shirt. You could see by the look on his face that he was trying to remain composed, holding himself back from speaking by biting down on his bottom lip. You kept your eyes locked to his sapphire blues, rolling your hips back and forth, Andy’s cock dragging delightfully against your slick, pulsing walls.

“Look at my pretty girl, showing herself off like this. Fuck, that’s it. Show ‘em what’s mine. You wanna talk to ‘em, Sweetheart? Go on, tell them how stretched out you are for me.”

You hesitated, your movements halting for a moment, heart pounding in your chest at the situation unfolding around you.

Bringing your hands forward to rest them on Andy’s knees, you arched your back, smirking slightly at the satisfied grunt that vibrated against your skin as Andy chased it with his mouth.

“He fuckin’ you good, Honey?”

Your heart stuttered, butterflies erupting in your stomach as the blonde spoke. In your new position, you took in the sight of his thick girth, the way his sun kissed hand wrapped around it and tugged slowly. You couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your skin. They looked rough, calloused like working man’s hands, marred with the evidence of manual labour.

Andy’s hips jutted up into you, cock nudging at your g-spot and eliciting a deep moan from your lips. “Answer him, Sweetheart.”

“Y-yes. So good. Always fucks me so good.”

Bouncing back against Andy’s cock, the new angle causing him to hit all the deepest spots inside you, you looked to the brunette.

The way his cheeks reddened made you smile, he was cute. One gloved hand tucked into his jean pocket, and the other lazily stroking himself. He was shy, and it made you want to hear his voice; made you want to tease him.

“Do you like watching me, Sir?”

His hand stilled, pink lips parting a little, and his eyes pupils swallowing the mesmerising blue of his iris’.

You kept your movements slow, enjoying the way his stare travelled, neck craning slightly to take in the sight of your ass backing up on Andy’s lap.

“Y-yes. Don’t stop, Doll.”

It wasn’t a lot, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of praise that your boyfriend was worshipping you with, but the way he looked utterly enraptured by you filled you with exhilaration. You were at the height of pleasure, completely overwhelmed by the tension between the four of you as you took Andy deep inside over and over.

“God, just look at them. Lookin’ like they wanna eat you, Sweetheart.” The mere thought of it had your eyes rolling back, a deep, desperate cry flying from your throat at the image his words conjured in your head. Andy’s fingers pinched at your waist, pulling you from the sordid fantasy swirling in your mind. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas now, I don’t share.”

One firm bicep wrapped itself around your neck, yanking you back against his chest. One hand rubbing at your clit and forcing you to stay in place while he fucked your squelching cunt with such ferocity, you could barely breathe.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show them how good I make you feel.” Andy rasped, his breaths ragged as he pounded into you. “Squeeze my dick with that perfect, little cunt. C’mon.”

A sharp slap to your clit had you squirming, bursting at the seams as you chased your release, a tidal wave of ecstasy crashing over your fucked out body -- toes curling, every muscle in your body tensing up and revelling in the bliss that he pulled from you.

“Fuck, that’s good pussy. My pussy. Gonna fill it up, make it all messy. Be dripping down those soft thighs all night, won’t it?”

Andy didn’t relent, continuing his insistent pace, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm in no time. The two pairs of eyes on you grew wilder, their own movements nearing them to the edge of their own climax. Lustful grunts rang out, reverberating through your body, pushing you closer and closer to heaven.

“Keep those eyes open for me.” He breathed, kissing the column of your throat possessively, another show of ownership. “Look what you do to them, about to come all over themselves just from watching you fall apart on my lap.”

Obeying him, his bicep fixing your gaze in their direction, you marvelled at them; cocks swollen and leaking, balls drawing up as they whimpered and grunted through their pleasure. You’d never felt so desired, so utterly coveted.

You couldn’t hide your glee when they erupted. The blonde panting and shooting his load into his palm, chest heaving and a heavy growl emitting from him. You licked your lips at the sight of the pearly liquid in his hand, eyes flitting to the brunette and pussy fluttering at the sight of him; teeth clenched, high-pitched whimpers making your knees quiver.

“Fuck, got all three of us coming for you. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” Andy smirked, his thrusts staggering, one guttural growl letting you know he was right there, filling you up and painting the walls of your overworked pussy with his hot, sticky come.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body collapsing against the soft planes of his chest; allowing him to use your cunt to milk himself dry until he was spent.

You let the atmosphere in the room soothe you, the faint smell of sex heavy in the air, limbs twitching as you came down from your euphoric high. When you opened your eyes again, the two men were gone; leaving you to revel in the afterglow of your obscene acts with Andy.

“So proud of you, Sweetheart. My precious, sweet thing.” He praised, stroking a stray tendril of hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead. He peppered your temple with sweet kisses, hands caressing your ribcage tenderly. “Gonna have to show you off more often.”

A/N: Did you guess them? 👀 Love you Becca! 🖤

mob bucky going to TOWN on reader in his office (or her giving him head) and he forgets be has a meeting with some people and they walk in but he just keeps going and tells them to sit down i-

warnings: nsfw, 18+, mob!bucky, rough sex, voyeurism, daddy kink, unprotected sex

thank you for reading! please don’t let this flop🥺

“You like teasing me don’t you kitten?” your fiancé asks and you nod, smiling as he squeezes your hips, “I like seeing Daddy all riled up,” you replied, your voice sultry as you run your hand down Bucky’s chest, biting your lip when he growls, it all started when you walked into the empty meeting room, with nothing but one of Bucky’s button downs on.

It was just your luck that there was no one but the brunette in sight, and oh, despite him telling him to give him ten more minutes, you refused, hopping onto his table, leaning down, you loose shirt barely covering anything as you gave him a full view of your breasts.

It was fun, watching as he clenched his jaw, barely being able to take his eyes off you, the last straw was when you said the room was a little too hot for your liking and you were about to remove your shirt when he stops you, gesturing you to come sit on his lap, and you knew then you were in for a ride, not that you minded anyway, after all, you were daddy’s little cockslut and you loved it.

“You gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl?” he asks. “I want Daddy to feel good,” you replied watching as lust filled those gorgeous cerulean blue eyes, your legs went weak at the sight of that and all you could do was give in to whatever it was that Bucky wanted. “Gonna take it like the little slut you are, aren’t you baby?”

“Yes,” you mewled, moaning when Bucky slaps your ass, “Yes who princess? You don’t wanna forget who you’re talking to,” he growls as he squeezes the soft flesh.

“Yes Daddy,’ you replied, moaning when he lifts you up, his eyes fixated on yours, those irises filled with lust as he tilts your head, smirking as you look at him innocently, “Such a pretty face, face down on the table angel,” he motions and you did as you were told, wincing lightly as the cool wood stung your skin, biting your lip when he spreads your legs open, giving him a view of your sopping wet cunt and you managed to stifle a moan when he pushed a finger into your pussy, followed by another. 

“Still so tight huh?” he grunts and you nod, whimpering when he pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times before withdrawing them, you could faintly hear the unbuckling of a belt, and you swallowed hard when you felt his rock hard cock press against your folds, teasing you as pushes past them, the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Please,” you pleaded, whimpering when Bucky lands another slap on your ass, “Please what kitten, tell Daddy what you need baby,” he continues, “Please, fuck me daddy, I-I need it, wanna feel Daddy’s cock in me, please,” you beg and that was it took for Bucky to slam into your cunt making you cry out as he stretches you out perfectly, your pussy walls accommodating his length as he did, the brunette barely waiting before he starts moving, thrusting into you.

“Such a dirty cockslut aren’t you?” he growls and you nod, moaning as he digs his fingers into your hips, each time his cock slides back into your warm cunt, it brushed against your spot, and all you could do was take it, your legs growing shaky as he pounds into you over and over again.

“Boss-“ the door opens and shock was painted all over your face as Bucky’s men stood outside, their eyes wide as they watched the Boss of the mob fucking you hard, his fingers carding through your hair as he did.

“You like being watched don’t you kitten, thought you loved the attention,” the brunette teases and your breath hitched in your throat as the men filled the room, you whimper under their gazes, watching as they took their seats at the wide table, your pussy clenching as they watched you, a mess on the table as their boss used you.

“Look at them, princess, you want them to see Daddy fucking you don’t you kitten?’

“Y-yes daddy,” you moan, giving in as Bucky left bruises on your hips, his thrusts growing erratic as he pounds into, tears brimmed in your eyes as you come undone, the effort to stifle your moans failing miserably as you cry out, your orgasm washing over you as you dive headfirst into ecstasy, your body convulsing as you did, your walls clamping down on his cock, the feeling of your cunt pulsating sent Bucky down the same path as he spills into you, coating your walls with seed.

“Better watch where you’re looking gentlemen,” Bucky said, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he pulls out of you, gently helping you up as he settles onto the leather seat, pulling you down and onto his lap, his arm wrapping around your waist securely as he rubs soothing circles on your back.

“Still gonna be a tease darling?”

“It’s fun,” you reply giggling when he presses a kiss to your neck.

sin city