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peachyteabuck · 1 year

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cross the line (peggy carter x reader)

summary: after you’re officially coronated, your already-atypical relationship with your personal knight becomes something even more scandalous

commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous

pairing: peggy carter x reader

words: 7649

content warnings: the world’s most historically inaccurate royal au!, knight/personal guard!peggy, queen!reader, murder of a minor character, attempted murder of a main character, violence done onto the main character, virginity taking, strap on use, dubious consent, praise, i made steven grant rogers a misogynist for shits + gigs, protective!peggy, dom!peggy, sub!reader, blowjobs on strapons, manipulation

divider by @firefly-graphics

This is your dream. This has been your dream since you knew what dreams were. Every moment of your life since the minute you unleashed your first scream was dedicated to primping and priming you until you were molded into the perfect queen.

This is your dream. As a baby, you were sequestered from everyone but the doctor, your parents, your nanny, and the wet nurse to ensure your health. You met the first person outside of that tight circle was introduced to you when you could walk. Even then, they were quarantined before and after.

As a child, you spent hours being quizzed on complex philosophy and mathematics by candlelight until your nanny begged for the tutor to stop. Being up until well before sunrise wasn’t enough: any moment you could be awake should be dedicated to meeting the same standards would-by kings were held to.

As a teenager, the focus turned to your appearance. Reading and writing were joined by a hair and make-up session. You recited factoids and roleplayed conversations with other rulers and aristocrats and constituents while you were shoved into corsets and fitted for dresses.

Your entire life has led up to this day, to this moment.

So why are you here, picking at your cuticles, as you hear your family and allies of the crown celebrating joyously? A new queen was not a frequent occurrence, especially one who reigned without a sudden, unexpected death or drought. None of that had occurred—your mother, aging and desperate for a life of her own, had informed you of her plan to abdicate the throne on the eve of your 16th birthday. It would give you two years until they’d announce, and a few more for everyone in every kingdom to adjust to the news.

You can hear your personal guard come in, the formal armor clinking as she steps. She prefers to go without (something about stealth being the best protection), but given the occasion, tradition requires her to be in full regalia.

“Are you all right, your majesty?”

You bite at your nail, pulling at the dead skin as you attempt to ground yourself. Staring off into the distance, you say nothing.

“That’s what I thought.”

Peggy had been your main guard since you were preteens. You, trying to learn politics and languages and negotiation tactics. Her, learning the ins and outs of palace protection from her mother. She was much scrawnier back then, limbs resembling the branches of a freshly planted oak tree. Peggy had bloomed since then, all muscle and confidence. She had also, over the years, become your closest confidant.

“Princess,” she says, her tone knowing. You can’t see her smirk, but it rests atop her words like moss in a pond. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

A crash, quickly followed by bellows from amused, drunken palace goers, stops you from responding immediately.

“Don’t call me that,” you finally say with a sigh. Might as well start getting used to correcting people now, you think. Though, your tone does not have the kind of royal tone you’d often heard from your mother. “I am now your queen and you will address me as such.”

She smiles softly, nodding just a little. “My apologies, your majesty, you were a princess for a very long time, and so it will take effort to get used to.”

You don’t disagree—it’s still hard to remind yourself to respond to the title when it’s called. You start to speak, wringing your hands every so slightly. “Margaret-“

“Please, your majesty,” she interrupts you, raising one hand to her chest. “You mustn’t. Now that you are queen, I think it’s best to refer to me as Peggy. It’s what my mother called me.”

As you roll the name over your tongue, the sounds feel like a tough cut of meat between your teeth. Still, it seems important to her, and given all she’s done for you over the years, you feel as though you owe her. It’s then, as you run through what it would be like to call for her in front of the rest of the court, that you let yourself smile just a little.

“It’s very improper,” you say quietly, as though someone could hear you admit to entertaining such a thought.

Peggy just grins—big and toothy. You ignore the way your heart swells at the sight. “That it is.”

“And what would the queen mother think?”

“What the old crone doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

It’s hard to suppress a laugh in your state, the giggles overwhelming your defenses within seconds. It sometimes feels as though your mother is a lighthouse at the center of the sea, locating ships with horrifying precision. Queen or not, the thought of her knowing you’re deviating from her desires spikes fear in your gut. A terrifying woman, it’s easy to treat her the same way one treats a prison guard.

But then you think of your mother—not the queen, but the little bit of her that exists outside of the demands of royal life. She’d been queen for years when she was your age, your grandmother succumbing during the birth of her youngest brother. Within hours after he entered the world, your uncle became an orphan and your mother became a queen. Their roles overtook them, both of them mourning as they grew into their roles. It was your mother’s job to rule. It was his job to remain as far from the public eye as possible.

“Are you okay, your majesty?”

Peggy places her hand on your shoulder. You can feel her thumb rubbing into the sore muscles there, and you wish she could apply that pressure to every inch of your skin. She allows you to sit with your non-reply, the nice quiet a welcome change from the cacophony of noise. She looks you up and down a few times, noticing the way you wring your hands and how you bite at your bottom lip.

You don’t know it, but she watches you in the same way she did when you were teenagers. She couldn’t stop, watching as you both grew to fit the titles you were expected to live up to as adults.

But she can’t do anything about it—not now. Not until the time is right.

“May I?”

You nod.

She takes the crown from your head, holding it gingerly as she inspects it. You were able to design your own crown given the circumstances. It all had to be kept under a veil of secrecy, of course—the jewelers and blacksmiths were sequestered until everything had finished, and even then were sworn to secrecy for fear of beheading.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You sound more mournful than you intended. It really is beautiful, is the worst part. A half-circle peaking in the middle, pearls topping each peak. At the center, swinging as your knight holds it in her calloused hands, rests a dangling cameo made of ivory and obsidian.

“An orchid?” Peggy asks, that same smirk as before teasing at her lips.

You nod. “It represents love and thoughtfulness. My mother’s favorite.”

Peggy hmms, turning it in her hands again. The gold shimmers in the low candlelight, catching as the fat flames flicker. “It looks like a cunt.”

You just shrug, unable to comment on the likeness. Many of the knights were crude, almost alarmingly so, but the only experience you had with your center had been your monthly bleeding and the occasional anatomy lesson from an exasperated nanny.

“Yours looks prettier, though.”

You blink once, twice; bewildered by her comment. Any witty retort you might have made drowns in the confusion, your brow furrowing and heart racing.

“Wh…what did you just say?”

“I said,” she moves to where you are, her nose brushing against yours from how close you are. “Your pussy is much prettier than any gem you could put in front of me.”

You’re not sure what to say—mouth agape as you attempt to process what she’s said. Though neither of you had addressed whatever it was that crackled between you, neither of you had done much to dampen it, either.

“What would your royal friends think, hm?” Peggy moans, a slight laugh coating her teasing. “I wonder how the rest of the court would react to you defiling the good name of your foremothers.”

She knows what she’s doing—poking and prodding at the sense of duty you’ve shared since you were old enough to understand the importance of longevity to the royal lineage. You’ve spent your entire life dedicated to the well-being of the crown, allowing your family and their most trusted allies to contort you into the perfect royal to lead your kingdom. It’s your purpose, it’s your only skill, it’s your only option.

If your mother had remained queen, she would have picked out some nice man for you to marry. A younger brother perhaps, whose power wouldn’t rival your own but still allowed your kingdom to gain some sort of leverage or asset. Normally these are done in childhood, sometimes they’re signed as soon as the sex is confirmed in the birthing room. You had escaped such a fate, in contrast to your sisters. Escaped only to find yourself in another possible trap.

“Retiring for the night?” Your head shoots up to see your mother’s lady-in-waiting, a much older woman who’d been in the castle since your mother’s teenage years, standing in the doorway. It’s then that you realize that you are tired, and move to rub at the dark circles under your eyes, not unlike the children of various royals whose bedtimes were hours ago. The rush of emotions, the pounding heartbeat, the awareness of your entire body…it feels as though you had been running through a field with reckless abandon and very suddenly met the kingdom’s sturdiest oak tree.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Her face softens, memories of your mother’s coronation rising. The woman has always said you look just like your mother did at your age, something you’ve never been able to fully process. “I understand. The queen requests-“she pauses for just a second before correcting herself. “The queen mother requests to see you before you disappear.”

You smile, nodding in affirmation. Before you can dust off your dress and stand, Peggy offers you her hand for stability. Your refusal dies into a hesitation when you realize a witness remains.

As you stand, she pulls you to her quick enough to make it look as if you had fallen. “I’ll meet you in your room, your majesty,” she whispers lowly into your ear. Before you can react, she straightens you into a standing position. Louder, she speaks again. “Now come along so we can find your darling mother.”

Lucky for you, no one has become caught in one of her famous conversations that can last for an hour or more.

“He and his guard will be staying for the next week or so,” she grins. It’s that real kind of smile, one that hasn’t graced your mother’s face in a long, long time. It stings, just a little.

You attempt to mirror her face, but you can feel how vacant your eyes look. “That’s wonderful, Mother. I’m glad such a close ally of the family will be our first guests after our coronation.”

The older woman pointedly ignores the flatness of your tone. “He’s wished to speak with you before he leaves.”

Great, you think. Lord Rogers is…an interesting man, certainly. Famously easy to anger and hard-headed, he only seems to care about women and ale. More accurately, he cares about women who are willing to put up with him while he drinks ale. Neither are hobbies of yours and so he has decided you are not worth respecting.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Your hands shake ever slightly as you find your way back to your quarters, the ringing in your ears drowning out the harshness of your steps. You nod to the two guards—Natasha and Valkyrie—who open the hefty door for you. There, sitting in your vanity chair, lies your loyal knight.

You’re unsure of what you should say, and so you say nothing.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known what it is to want,” Peggy says, still seated.

“My reputation would never recover if anyone found out,” is all you can reply. Maybe the thought of your legacy crumbling would knock some sense into her.

The woman across from you just smiles. “That was when you were simply a princess. But you are queen now, so we’re free to do as we wish.”

You step back, watching with wide eyes as she moves to undo her ceremonial armor. Each time the metal pieces hit each other, you flinch at the small clang. The sound of metal reminds you far too much of violence, and you’ve never been one for that.

“Queens still have reputations, Peggy,” your protest is weak…but is a protest, nonetheless. Affairs like this could ruin a royal, send them tumbling into a well of scandal that would threaten the power your family had held for generations. If anyone learned of what was happening, you could be dethroned, excommunicated, possibly even executed. “Big, consequential ones.”

You can feel your mouth dry when she removes her undershirt, revealing her bare chest. Bruises, scars, and scrapes litter the skin, but it only adds to her natural allure.

When all you do is stare, she smiles ever-so-slightly. “Has no one educated you on matters of the flesh, your majesty?”

Part of you wants to deny you understand what she asks—but the rest of you is just confused. Most of the eligible bachelors in your court steered clear of your bath, too terrified of your mother to make any sort of romantic gesture. The allure of bedding a royal was far outweighed by your mother’s ruthless reputation. When a man was found kissing up the neck of your younger sister, one of his hands at the small of her back, he was sent to work at a proxy farm hundreds of miles away, rumored to be herding sheep with just one hand.

No one ever seemed worth the risk of losing them.

She speaks as she removes the cloth pants, your eyes drawn to the slight bulge at the apex of her thighs that the harder armor covered. “It’s an honor to be your first, your majesty.”

As her pants hit the floor, you can feel the air being knocked from your lungs. There, between her legs, rests a sort of…toy. Long, thick, tapering a little before flaring out again. It looks like what the other ladies of the court had described after their nights of passion with visitors from other kingdoms.

“You’ll take me in your mouth soon, my queen,” she reaches into the bag at her side, producing a small, unlabeled jar that reminds you of the potions witches sometimes sell at the markets held near the castle. She pops the cork, spreading the thick, clear substance over the bulbous head between her legs. You’re not sure what she means, but the heat in your belly spreads along your spine, nonetheless. When her length is fully covered in it, she takes your hand, the scented oils from the morning having soaked beneath the surface, leaving only supple, perfumed skin in its wake.

“Here,” she practically whispers, her voice quiet but filled with what sounds like excitement. “Wrap your hands like this…”

Your knight guides you, her hand over yours as you wrap your fingers around it. It’s a strange feeling, but certainly not unwelcome. You follow her motions, moving up and down and twisting your wrist right before you reach the top. Peggy watches enraptured, her eyes locked on where your hands meet. It’s easy for you to presume she can’t feel what you’re doing, certainly not even witches could combine this material with the flesh of a human. But, with the way your knight’s lips part, the way her breathy moans fill the room…you’re not sure.

Her other hand, once curled into a fist at her side, now cups the back of your head firmly. “Lick the tip, your majesty,” she instructs. At any other time, you’d hesitate, but the lightheadedness that’s come over you silences your protests. Ever so lightly, you lick over where your hand had avoided. Your open mouth gives Peggy the opportunity to buck her hips, pushing the object past your lips. She takes care not to push it too far, merely pressing it onto your tongue so you would become used to the weight.

She’s been waiting for this day since she first saw you, since her mother told her of the duties that were passed down their family line for generations; since she had seen you studying French in the garden in your pink spring dress. She’d loved you for years—decades, even. Though she’d never wish it, if the Goddess took her tomorrow, she’d die a woman fulfilled.

Peggy grabs at your hair, pulling you until you stand. She takes the position you just had, falling to her knees before burrowing herself under the hem of your skirt. Before you can ask what she’s doing, she unbuckles your shoes and pulls down your chemise. Too stunned to do anything else, you step out of them on instinct.

“Good girl,” Peggy purrs, leaving kisses along your thighs before standing back up. “My perfect girl.”

You lock eyes for a moment, expecting the other to say something, anything. When nothing comes, Peggy locks her lips with yours, leading you backwards until you’re pushed onto the bed. She’s practiced this many times, an old pillow covered in one of your nightgowns folded in half so she could smell your signature perfume as words of praise and promise tumbled from behind her lips. Just as she imagined, she parts your legs to find the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

I was right, she thinks. Much prettier than any crown.

“Oh Godess,” Peggy groans as she finally pushes inside of you. “You cannot imagine how long I’ve waited to do this-“

You moan as she enters you slowly, purposefully. Blood drains from your fingers as you grip the sheets with all you have, Peggy holding your legs open as you adjust to the feeling of her inside of you. She gives you a moment, tracing the calloused pads of her around your nipples, down your quivering stomach, and back up again.

“I-“ you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say, or if you’re supposed to say anything at all. “I-“

“Shhh, your majesty, Shh,” she reaches around to cup one hand over your mouth, the rough palm pressed against your lips. “Not all the servants are asleep. I don’t want anyone else to hear you sing for me. Not just yet.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s saying. Each frenzied thought is broken as she pulls back before entering once more. Every time she retreats and leaves you empty and wanting, her pace quickening steadily.

“Wh-what do you-“

Peggy just smiles, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It’s as though she’s watching your thoughts leak from your ears, your head falling onto the covers as pleasure overtakes you. She thought about flipping you over, about grabbing you by your hair and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. But she knew she had to start you off slowly, carefully as to not scare you off. Soon enough, though, she’d be able to fuck you in all the ways she’d fantasized; with her fingers inside you right next to her cock, with her hand around your neck, with her telling you the ways she’d fill you and how beautiful you’d look round with her kin. You were both young, and with your newfound power, had plenty of time to learn what you both liked best.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful queen,” she murmured into your neck. She had also imagined fucking you front of all the other knights in her tight circle of guards, showing the rest of them what they could have if they continued to pledge their loyalty. They’re all just as protective of you as she is already, but with queenhood comes increased threats that require increased vigilance. “I’ll explain in due time.”

It's then that she reaches down, moving to rub small, staccato circles at the most sensitive part of you. It’s a part you’ve explored before, under the thick covers and once everyone had presumed you asleep. That, though, was nothing like this—none of the fireworks, none of the way she grips your thighs to pull you back after each thrust.

This is what you imagine being struck by lightning feels like, the way your skin crackles every time she touches you. The difference, though, is that you’ve never heard of survivors wanting more. You’d never imagined anything feeling as good as this, as though those late-night explorations and giggles shared between princesses could feel so magnificent. Had everyone else felt like this, when they had indulged in matters of the flesh? Why had everyone kept such a thing from you?

“I’m, I’m-“ You’re not sure what’s happening, coil inside of you tightening with every passing second. Every muscle in your body tenses as you silently plea for Peggy for…well, truthfully, you don’t know what you’re pegging for. All you know is that you want it.

“Oh, your majesty,” Peggy smirks as she continues to pound into you, continuing to rub at the apex of your pussy. “Do it, baby, let go for me. Allow me the gratification of seeing you let go.”

You’re not sure what’s supposed to happen until it does, and a white-hot pleasure explodes inside of you. It reminds you of rolling down a hill, or being on horseback while it gallops. This is different, though, a nearly indescribable feeling lighting your skin ablaze. The feeling inches away little by little, your legs beginning to twitch. Peggy slows before pulling away completely, collapsing next to you as the toy prods at your leg.

“I’ll always watch over my queen,” she says as you pant, looking up at the ceiling of your room you had looked as a thousand times before. The mural your mother had painted for you hadn’t changed at all, but you…you were transformed. “No matter what.”

A week or so passes without incident. A week of your entire body on edge, of watching your personal knight as she stood in corners and examines perimeters. It’s a small part of you, but nevertheless, a quiet voice in the back of your brain shamed you in the way you’d imagine your mother would if she found out.

How did it end up like this? You, the most powerful person in your kingdom, bending at the will of your closest guard as though she had the magic to move mountains. A shudder ripples its way through your muscles as you imagine a world where she was blessed with the connection to the Mother Goddess. She was the only one who could grant the special few the ability to harness the magic found in the soil of your land, and it was a gift to you that she hadn’t given Peggy that power.

“Your majesty,” Peggy says from across the room, her affect flat in the proper way staff are meant to address members of your family. “Lord Steven Rogers is here to see you.”

She steps into the room and to the side, making room for the man and his personal guard. James, if your memory is correct, watches over the interaction with the same stoic silence as Peggy. He’s large, much different than the leaner bodies of the women who make up the castle’s defenses. James fills the doorway, nearly having to duck just a tad. What really scares you is the way he stares, his jaw set and his eyes bearing into you. You make every effort to avoid his gaze as Steve sits down.

“I have something to share with you,” he says with a boyish smile. He slides a small, wooden box across the desk that you make no move to open. “But I’d like for us to be alone. No guards.”

As if he can sense your trepidation, he adds, “Just to put us on even footing.”

“If my security cannot be in the room while this information is shared,” you tremble, ever so slightly, as you push the box back towards him. You hope he doesn’t notice, but something in his keen eyes says there’s very little he doesn’t see. “Then I don’t want to hear it at all. And I certainly wouldn’t want your security here as well.”

“Oh, princess,” his words are tinged with a low, condescending chuckle. It reminds you of your father when he knows he’s bested you at chess—the same stupid, smug look painted across his face; the same infuriating smile playing at the very corners of his lips. As a child, you thought he was at least trying to hide the fact he had such a large competitive advantage, saving your young ego from being crushed too early.

As you stand here, though, a single eyebrow raised and the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep you from lashing out…you understand it is merely a poor attempt to hide the glee of besting a person one views as deeply and utterly inferior.

You grit your teeth, clenching your fists as your side as you resist the urge to slap him with the back of your hand. As a royal, your mother had never expressed herself in such a rash manner. You hadn’t even held the crown for a week and were on the brink of putting the entire royal reputation in jeopardy.

What a failure.

“I am queen now and you know it,” you eventually bite out, face red hot with the knowledge you’d taken much too long to respond.

Lord Rogers smiles in the same way you imagine snakes or wolves do when they’ve spotted injured prey. “Let’s have this conversation again when you’ve calmed down. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

You paint a tense smile over your face, attempting to hide your distaste. “Tomorrow it is. I look forward to seeing you then.”

Peggy watches as your lady-in-waiting undoes your corset, her nimble fingers freeing you from its confines. Normally you liked your corsets—they improve your posture so much even your mother doesn’t comment on it—but that and the coronation dress weighed on you in an unfortunately literal way.

“My queen,” she nearly whispers. You expect her tone to be light and airy, and are startled by the more somber tone. “I need to speak with you.”

You blink once, twice. Why not here? Your face says, gesturing towards the lady-in-waiting as subtly as you can. Peggy’s stoicism remains unchanged.

“Give us a moment, Katherine, please,” you tell her, keeping your eye contact.

The dark-haired girl nods once, bidding you goodnight and curtsying before dashing away. She’s odd, that one, but so charming you choose not to comment when she’s around.

When the door shuts behind her, you turn to your knight, nodding just a little to prompt her.

Instead of speaking, though, she remains quiet, an obvious discontent washing over her face. A nagging feeling at the back of your heart wants to go to her, comfort her, bring out all the bad feelings so you can tame them. But you’re a queen, and she’s not a child, so you stay where you are—silent, stoic, painfully waiting for her to open her mouth and tell you what’s wrong.

When she does, though, you wish she hadn’t.

“I don’t like Lord Rogers very much,” is all Peggy says. She looks you dead in the eyes, jaw set. You wait for her to continue—to rant and scream and scowl.

You allow yourself a moment to sigh, the exhale ending in a dry laugh. Peggy narrows her eyes as you do so, tilting her head ever so slightly. “I’m not joking.”

It certainly sounds like it, though. She knows just as well as you how court politics works, how every single person in this castle has every single one of their decisions shrouded in a cloak of constrictive diplomacy. In a country situated at the center of the continent, a smile and a few lines of small talk are sometimes all there is between economic prosperity and absolute devastation.

Speaking ill of Lord Rogers would effectively be the same as threatening to banish Lord Rogers from your castle. And banishing Lord Rogers would be the same as slitting the throat of his wife in their marriage bed. War? Guaranteed. Your chances of winning? Slim.

“Well, you certainly can’t be serious.” You’re outwardly scoffing now, rolling your eyes, and turning away from her without so much as a half-hearted excuse. There’s nothing in you that wants to fight; who wants to risk it all, fight the status quo, and make a new world from the ashes of the old one. You have never been very rebellious, and that instinct for conflict avoidance will serve you well if you want yourself, and your kingdom, to survive.

You expect your beloved knight to deflect. You expect her to do as you would’ve done: assume someone with loose lips was listening and you’d need to immediately play it off as some kind of nightmare and distance yourself from any ounce of culpability.

She doesn’t, though. She doesn’t move an inch.

“I’m serious, your majesty.” Peggy continues to meet your tense gaze, her own eyes free from any regret, or fear, or anything. Strong as a stone, and just as agreeable. Her face remains stoic, her sharp jaw set. “I would never lie to you.”

Red bleeds into the edges of your vision, the vision of your delicate legacy crashing to the floor like an antique teapot, crashing into a million, unfixable pieces and cutting into the bottoms of your soft feet. “Absolutely not,” you growl, your fists clenching in the light fabric of your underdress. “You know why that’s impossible, so certainly you wouldn’t be foolish enough to entertain the idea of saying it out loud.”

She still doesn’t budge. “I can’t lie to you, your majesty.” She repeats. “I have a duty to protect you-“

Now you bark out a laugh, the sharp descending into something darker quickly as you continue. “Protect!?” You reach across your abdomen to hold your sore stomach, glad you were able to get out of your corset before she opened her mouth. It feels like ages later when you’re able to catch your breath, the words still breathy as tears fall down your cheeks. “If anyone heard you, they’d have my head under a blade fast than you can cut the limbs off of any one person. You believing this is some roundabout way to fulfill the oath you took when you were given your sword is such horseshit you should be back shoveling it in stalls.”

You’re ready to continue—to bare your teeth and tear at her skin until she heeds your warning. Fangs—you wish you had fangs—so she’d know how ready you are to tear flesh from bone just to keep her from continuing. So that she’d know you’re also dangerous, and willing to fight if it meant you remained in power.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. “Tell Katherine to come back in. I don’t want to see you until I need escorting to the chancery tomorrow. Do you understand?”

Peggy’s face doesn’t change as she responds before turning and leaving. “Yes, your majesty. I will see you in the morning.”

Neither of you speak, you following just behind her in silence. The blanket of quiet remains as you enter, a servant having already lit the candles that illuminate the room. As you requested, Peggy remains just outside the thick door, only entering when Lord Rogers does.

He seems pleased you’d followed his directions, and it makes your skin crawl. If you had your way, you’d never deal with him at all—outsourcing all communication through a third party. Unfortunately, the Rogers name is powerful in this region, and a queen is nothing without her allies.

“So,” he sits across from you, separated only by your desk. You move to stand near him, eyeing the same box he had yesterday. “I’ve come to talk about the land deeds your mother signed over to me at the very end of her reign.”

Your brow furrows as you reach forward to grab at what he brought with him. Inside are…bones? They’re small but thick, with etchings in an alphabet you do not understand. “What are these?”

He scoffs, as though you should understand what riddle he’s piecing together. You resist the urge to remind him you can speak five languages, and read even more. If there was a language you didn’t recognize, you’d be going to the royal translators…not a man who’s been trying to de-throne your family since the day he could ride a horse. “They’re proof my family has had ownership over the lands I’m asking about since before your family name ever existed. You simply raise both your brows, still looking through the box.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

But you don’t, you really don’t. There’s nothing anyone’s ever told you about Lord Roger’s land deeds besides the fact he has a lot of them. His family’s been around for as long as yours has and has amassed a similar amount of wealth and power. He controls several important ports, his castle is nearly as large as yours.

It hits you then, what he’s doing.

Originally both lineages were at war for the last few thousand years, moving borders and people and livestock as their whims changed. They’d both fought to control the kingdom that’s encompassed the land it had for centuries, the deciding factor being one last territory that a woman four or so generations ago had seized during a tense buyout the Rogers lineage had always claimed was faked. That’s the only territory his family had ever asked for, something your mother had spent many nights telling you about. They’d tried everything to get it back, from raids to paying witnesses to give false accounts of the treaty signing. This was another, even cheaper shot at their goal—to overtake what your family had held so dear.

It’s easy to see now that the markings on the bones show tallies of cattle losses in a shorthand developed by farmers, indicating his family would’ve been working the land after the year the agreement had gone into place. This, of course, means absolutely nothing.

You chew your lip as you examine them, building up the courage to speak. “Lord Rogers, I am not sure this indicates anything meaningful. Many families work on land they do not own. This isn’t proof at all your family has any right over the land, or over the kingdom”

As you look closely at the engravings once more, “You stupid little bitch!”

You don’t have time to turn around; to slap him across the face, or find a letter opener to remind him of your years of self-defense training. All you have time to do is cry out as his palm meets your cheek, your screams becoming muffled as he grabs the back of your neck and turns you around so he can pin you against the desk.

“Peggy!” you try to yell, but all that comes out is a choked sound.

“You will give my family what we are owed. I will kill you if I have to.” His words are practically growls, holding you with one hand as he reaches into his coat. As you struggle, he flashes a thin, sharp knife in front of your eyes.

“Please-“ you kick at him, figurines your mother had collected (and you hadn’t yet had the heart to have a servant collect and placed in her quarters) fall to the hard ground. Some shatter immediately, others skidding across the floor. “Please don’t kill me I-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He flips the weapon in his hands, as if he was showing it off. “Now hold still, this doesn’t need to hurt. There are a few spots I can hit that’ll have you bleeding out in seconds. But if you want it to hurt, I can-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before he’s thrown off of you, slammed into the nearest wall. You’re partially thrown with him, but Peggy’s arms keep you from traveling the same distance. One of the other guards, Valkyrie, holds him against the wall as Peggy drops to the floor to hold you. Other guards you can’t remember the names for flood in behind her, holding his arms behind his back and dragging him away.

“You’re okay, my queen,” Peggy whispers. “You’re going to be okay.”

She scans you for harm, eyes wide as she checks for broken bones or open wounds. A few spots are tender. One, most notably, at the place the table made contact with your abdomen. Still, nothing that can’t be healed with a few days of rest and (most important) nothing that will leave horrific and long-lasting scars. Katherine comes in soon after, taking you from Peggy and ushering you across the castle and to your bed. She fetches you something to drink and a cool cloth, fluffing your pillows once your heart has slowed enough that exhaustion replaces adrenaline.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to question why all of those women were close enough to help in the first place.

Peggy stands behind Katherine, watching as she comforts you.

As your eyelids grow heavy, she moves to pet your hair, leaning down to murmur into your temple. “I’ll be back, my queen.” You don’t hear it, sleep long since having pulled you into its arms. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

She slips out of the room, silently exiting out of your area of the castle before finding a door hidden behind a tapestry depicting a field of poppies, your grandmother’s favorite flowers. The secret paths had been built the same time the castle was, meant to be a way for those that served in the castle to enter the servant’s quarters without disturbing the royals. Fifty or so years ago, though, too many servants were living there, and in an effort to stave rebellion, an addendum to the castle was built. Now, where some had lived, slept, and ate, lay abandoned rooms far from the eyes of royalty.

The staircase is narrow, so narrow she has to hold her sword in front of her. She’s silent as she navigates the maze-like corridor, the path to her destination an easy show of muscle memory. The door, unassuming and identical to the rest of them, opens to a scene she’s been wishing for since she first saw Lord Rogers look you up and down all those years ago.

Five women, two on each side and one immediately behind, flank the man that sits tied to an old chair from the servants’ quarters. It’s been used for these sorts of nights before, as evidenced by the scuffed wood that marks where pieces of leather kept one’s limbs in place. They fight, they always do. For Peggy, it’s part of the fun. No sense in killing something without a desire to live.

She stands as the man sits, his face already bruised and bloody. Split lip, a cut through his right brow. Every time he spits it’s tinged pink. Even though she wishes they had held off until she arrived, Peggy wishes it was redder. Nothing matters more to her than the fact he remains in pain.

“Do you know what the punishment is for laying a hand on Her Majesty?” she asks.

He looks pathetic in the low candlelight, she thinks. He’s over six feet, covered in lean muscle and scars. She can see every pitiful inch of him—she instructed the other royal guards to strip him down when they grabbed him from his plush bed once all the royals had retired for the night. He was surprisingly easy to overpower, according to the message she received from the guards, delivered via a squire who had an affinity for staying up much too late. He was fast and, more importantly, quiet on his feet. Both necessary to avoid being caught. While many of the knights in this kingdom were women, it’s easy to see how his skills would do him well in the profession.

“You’ll never get away with this,” he spits out.

Peggy smirks, small laughs escaping from behind the others’ hands. She takes a moment to allow the others to collect themselves (and to give herself some time to savor the rage that washes over his face as he realizes they’re all laughing at him.

“Well,” she says eventually. “One of us tied to a chair right now, and it isn’t any of us, so…”

He snarls, reminding Peggy of one of the guard dogs that roam the farms around the castle. They look very similar, in a way—strong jaw, barred teeth, a little grimy from their misadventures. Lord Rogers lacks something that would shrink the gap between them. Those dogs, as innocent as they sometimes look, would defend their flock with their lives; she’s seen them ward off mountain lions to protect the sheep they’d grown up with.

Peggy doesn’t think he’d defend anyone other than himself.

Lord Rogers doesn’t know it (and, given his condition, he may never found out), but his personal knight was given an option: either leave, change his name, and abandon the Rogers lineage…or die trying to defend the bloodline he swore to secure.

Needless to say, he chose the latter, and his various body parts are being fed to pigs at the far end of the castle’s main farm. Kamala offered to do that, the young girl eager to be involved but not old enough to secure herself to the heart of the action. Truthfully, Peggy found the entire endeavor useless given they sent his head to Lord Rogers’ wife in an unlabeled box. It should arrive by the end of the month, giving them enough time to do what needs to be done.

“Do you confess?” Natasha asks, her sword secured in her belt. Peggy only enlisted the guards she believed were level-headed enough to follow her lead. Normally, she’s all right with those she relies on going rogue—she trusts them for a reason—but tonight requires a very specific form of precision.

Steven just scoffs. “Confess to what, exactly?”

“We know what happened with the Queen,” Jane says, her tone flat. “We know what you did to her.”

The man laughs the kind of fake, sarcastic laugh Peggy had come to loathe from him. “That bitch had it coming. She’s hiding something from me, just like her cunt m-”

He is interrupted quickly by the back of Peggy’s hand. It throws him off, stunning him

“Confess.” One of them say, calmly.

“Fuck you!” Lord Rogers will scream back. Unfortunately, it seems to have only quieted him for just a moment.

Each denial is met with a similar reaction.

This time, it’s Carol punching him so hard that he starts to spit out blood afterward. The time after that, it’s Monica carving out leg muscles with a farrier’s knife. After that, it’s Wanda flattening his fingers with a hammer. His body, morphing into some monstrous, destroyed thing, is tormented with every broken breath he takes. A slight wheeze tinges each exhale.

Peggy watches him, watches as the women she trusts with your life take him apart piece by piece. At the end of the night, long before the morning rises, he will be mangled to the point of no return before one of them gives him the undue mercy of ending his life. This was the plan, even if she had no desire to watch him receive such an undeserved gift. Originally, she’d wanted to keep him alive for days and show you her handiwork…but a stern conversation with Gamora had ended that conversation. Her magic gave her the kind of sense a brutish knight lacked, Peggy thought.

She steps back, tossing the hefty stick to Carol, who catches it. “Do what you need to do,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ve got what I need.”

Steven tugs at his restraints, the panic in his eyes palpable despite being nearly swollen shut. “You bitch! Let me out of here!”

Peggy just laughs, not bothering to face him as she walks away. The Lord’s pleas silence as she shuts the door behind her, deep screams becoming fainter and fainter as she sneaks down the corridor once more. She retraces her path, fire in her veins making the trip much shorter this time around. Before she knows it, she’s back in bed with you, tracing the indents your pillow’s creases have made on your cheeks.

“Peggy?” you murmur, your tired brow furrowing. Sleep rests heavy on your slurred speech, exhaustion still wracking your bones.

She shushes you, tucking herself under the covers. When you move over to give her unnecessary room, she merely grabs your hips to pull you back. When you return to your original spot still deep in the throws of sleep, Peggy lets a small smile escape from behind her teeth.

“Got a surprise for you when you wake up, baby,” she whispers. “Just go to sleep for now. Everything will be okay when you wake up.”

#peggy carter x reader #peggy carter fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel ladies fanfic #peggy carter smut #lukis writes stuff #lukis does commissions

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swaqcenix · 1 year

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this is coming soon.. (cough i hope it lives up to it's request as i'm still writing it and it's in works) but i'm definitely enjoying writing! <3

#peggy carter x reader #peggy carter x gender neutral reader #peggy carter #brief mention of wanda x reader #wanda maximoff angst #yandere #yandere!peggy carter #wanda maximoff x yn #wanda maximoff kidnapping #marvel fic #mcu fic #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu #requests #peggy carter smut

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sytoran · 1 year

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑!

howdy! it's two weeks till october, and that means kinktober season. i've planned a very elaborate (and spicy) menu for you lot. it's my first ever kinktober event, so don't be too harsh on me. stay tuned for the good stuff!

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

🎃 minors dni! for the rest of yall please be mindful of warnings and tags before reading (a lot of these fics may contain sensitive/triggering stuff!)

🎃 all fics will be dom!reader x sub!marvel women. (mainly wanda maximoff and natasha romanoff). don't like, don't read.

🎃 posts relating to this kinktober event will be tagged as 'sytoran's kinktober 2023'

🎃 i generally like to write reader as more masc-representing, and only either fem!reader or gender-neutral!reader (no male!readers)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄

🎃 OCTOBER 001.

somnophilia | CW!wanda x beefy!avenger!reader summary: after a particularly taxing work day, there's no better stress relief than your cute little bunny sleeping half-naked in your bed. cont: mild non-con, vaginal fingering, begging, daddy kink

🎃 OCTOBER 003.

blowjob | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader summary: natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be. cont: reader has a cock, power play, begging

🎃 OCTOBER 005.

thigh-riding | IW!wife!wanda x gn!reader summary: you've always loved writing stories since young, but the tale of you and your wife writes itself, and it ends with a sweet happy-ever-after. cont: soft sex, established relationship, romance + fluff

🎃 OCTOBER 007. [POSTPONED]

stockholm syndrome | AOU!wanda x hydra!reader summary: after being taken as hostage by HYDRA's runaway assasin, newbie avenger wanda is prepared for pretty much anything, except developing feelings for her captor. cont: reader has a metal prosthetic arm, humiliation, degradation

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 009.

mermaphilia | mermaid!wanda x pirate!reader summary: as captain of a notorious gang of pirates, you've got a reputation of steel, but when there's a pretty little mermaid presenting herself for you, there's no chance in hell you're not saying yes. cont: sweet talk, begging, humiliation, overstimulation

🎃 OCTOBER 011.

size kink | roomate!natasha x werewolf!reader summary: despite your countless pleads for natasha to stay away during the full moon, she decides to brave the beast and be right by your side during your transformation. she gets a lot more than what she bargained for. cont: (very) rough sex, reader has a cock, breeding, creampie

🎃 OCTOBER 013.

knife play | bimbo!wanda x ghostface!reader summary: for years on end you've chased sweet revenge. from being your high school bully to the fount of your desires, wanda maximoff is your esteemed salvation and utter demise. today, you plan on taking it all back. cont: dubious consent, degradation, fingering

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 — 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 015.

tit-fucking | milf!natasha x amab!reader summary: your wife thinks you've been acting a little off lately. she tries possible solutions to lighten your mood, but eventually it comes down to the 'hard' truth that you wanna fuck her tits. cont: reader has a cock, teasing, possessiveness, praise

🎃 OCTOBER 017.

breeding press | housewife!wanda x amab!reader summary: your wife looks a little too good on a particular weekday morning. spoiler alert - you end up late for work that day. cont: reader has a cock, daddy kink, possessiveness, marking

🎃 OCTOBER 019.

public sex | milf!natasha x mechanic!reader summary: natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night. cont: daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

🎃 OCTOBER 021.

wall sex | cheerleader!natasha x footballer!reader summary: natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants. cont: very long fic, squirting strap-on, cunnilingus

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 — 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 023.

exhibitionism | agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader summary: there's nothing quite like a classic 1940s sapphic romance, except the element of 'forbidden' doesn't apply to you; you're eating your wife out under her office desk as she speaks to - or least, attempts to speak to - her military soldiers. cont: office sex, cunnilingus, fingering, edging

🎃 OCTOBER 025. [POSTPONED]

aphrodisiac | witch!agatha x hunter!reader summary: during one of your hunting sessions in the woods, you stumble across a little wooden shack that wasn't there before. your curiosity gets the better of you, but you aren't prepared for what lies beyond. cont: non-con, sex pollen, riding, power bottom

🎃 OCTOBER 027. [POSTPONED]

caught masturbation | college!kate x professor!reader summary: kate's your best student, diligently attentive in your lectures. who knew that there were hidden intentions behind all that attention she paid to your teaching. or more specifically, you. cont: age gap, professor kink, humiliation, fingering

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 — 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 029. [POSTPONED]

brat-taming | bimbo!wanda x sugarmommy!reader summary: what was supposed to be a relaxing day off at the bar turned awry when your pretty little girlfriend stepped in. wanda has a little too much fun toying with those sleazy men, so it's up to you to teach her a lesson. cont: bathroom sex, spanking, hair-pulling, degradation

🎃 OCTOBER 030. [POSTPONED]

omegaverse | omega!natasha x alpha!reader summary: while visiting your sister, kate, at the avengers compound, you stumble into none other than the black widow. there's big reputations, miscommunications, sexual tensions, and a whole lot of hot sex. cont: flirting, seduction, heat/rut, mating bite

🎃 OCTOBER 031. [POSTPONED]

mirror sex | barbie!wanda x gynecologist!reader summary: a sequel to 'doctor's orders'. wanda's curious nature to explore her new body intimately leads you to purchase a full-length mirror in your shared apartment. you teach her everything she needs to know. cont: fingering, guided masturbation, power play

credits to @cafekitsune for the line dividers i will be using

do not copy, edit, or translate my works.

kinktober requests || main masterlist || ao3

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 7 months

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⋆·˚˚°✦ Masterlist ✦°˚˚·⋆

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ ι wrιtᥱ for mᥲrvᥱᥣ womᥱᥒ, ιᥒᥴᥣυdιᥒg wᥲᥒdᥲ, ᥒᥲtᥲshᥲ, ᥴᥲroᥣ, vᥲᥣkყrιᥱ, kᥲtᥱ, ყᥱᥣᥱᥒᥲ, dᥲrᥴყ, ᥲgᥲthᥲ ᥲᥒd ρᥱggყ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ι wrιtᥱ for fᥱm!rᥱᥲdᥱr, gᥒ!rᥱᥲdᥱr, ᥲᥒd gρ!rᥱᥲdᥱr꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ι'm ᥲυtιstιᥴ ᥲᥒd wιᥣᥣ wrιtᥱ ᥲυtιstιᥴ!rᥱᥲdᥱr꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ᥒo bᥱstιᥲᥣιtყ, ρᥱdo, rᥲᥴιsm, or homoρhobιᥲ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷thιs ιs ᥲᥒ 𝟷𝟾+ bᥣog. mᥱᥒ ᥲᥒd mιᥒors dᥒι. ᥲgᥱᥣᥱss ᥲᥒd/or bᥣᥲᥒk bᥣogs wιᥣᥣ bᥱ bᥣoᥴkᥱd!꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ᥲᥒoᥒ ᥱmojι ᥣιst~꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷kιᥒktobᥱr 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 mᥲstᥱrᥣιst꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷sᥱrιᥱs꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷oᥒᥱ shots꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷drᥲbbᥣᥱs꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷hᥱᥲdᥴᥲᥒᥒoᥒs꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷moodboᥲrds꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 11 months

Text

Exhibitionist Kink with Peggy Carter ~Kinktober 2023

Happy October 31st!!! Happy Halloween!! (If you celebrate) 🖤🎃

Previous Day <—found here!

Kinktober 2023 <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, Exhibitionist Kink, eating out, public sex, teasing, pet names, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Peg… What—?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone.

The woman had pushed you against her desk in the middle of the office. You had come to pick her up after work.

“Shhhh, Happy Halloween, Darling…” Peggy purred, then smashing her lips into yours.

You wanted to reciprocate so badly but the the high stakes of being so public made you pull away.

“Peg… Not here…” you stressed.

Peggy tilted her head to you and smirked.

“Why not…?” She coyly cooed, dropping to her knees and eyeing up at you mischievously, “Afraid you cannot stay quiet, Darling…?”

You gulped and your eyes widened. The woman was swift to get underneath your flowing skirt, pulling your knickers aside and hungrily attacking her mouth to your core. You fell back on the desk and your mouth dropped open as you tried desperately to stifle the moan that ripped through your body.

Your hands gripped the edge of her desk, your knuckles going white. Peggy’s hands spread your legs for even more access. Her tongue dipped into your slick sex expertly, making you come undone entirely.

And the worst part was that you only came faster at the thrill of being caught.

Fuck, Peggy had been right.

It was so difficult to stay quiet… You had to bite your lip hard. You swore that you had made yourself bleed. But it was so worth it. Peggy was making you see stars. Over and over again.

When she was finally done with you, you were a panting, shaky mess…

“Your turn?” You shakily breathed out.

“Oh no. I want you to hear me scream your name tonight.” Peggy purred, “Let’s go home, Darling.”

You nodded and stumbled off of her desk, making the brunette chuckle.

~~~

Peggy Carter Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

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sytoran · 11 months

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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

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

“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)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#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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pinkthick · 9 months

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Doctor Strange Supreme

Okay, so let’s talk about Doctor Strange Supreme from “What if?”. He really had a good start with his story, becoming Master of the Mystic Arts after losing Christine Palmer instead of losing the usage of his hands. (Since Christine is more important to him than his career in that universe). We all know how episode 4 from season 1 went, where he absorbed various interdimensional beings in order to attain enough power to alter the past and resurrect her. He succeeded even if others tried to warn him of the consequences and as soon as he resurrected Christine, the universe was falling on itself.

(Mind you, he managed to delay the collapsing universe with his powers for some good minutes. He even created a pocket dimension. 💀)

He realized his mistakes (even if it was too late) and more consequently, he regrets his actions.

“The world shouldn’t pay for my arrogance.”

“Punish me. Not the world. Not Christine.”

He has been left alone in that void for God knows how long and while he could have gotten out, he didn’t. He stayed there, making the pocket dimension his own prison. (Probably thinking of every single mistake he had done.)

Now let’s talk about episode 9 from season 1, where he literally went toe to toe with Infinity Ultron. (When the Watcher tried to fight him, he was literally losing but Doctor Strange Supreme managed to hold his ground and literally defeat Infinity Ultron).

But what I really want to talk about is when Killmonger tried to persuade Stephen into taking the infinity stones so that he could remake his universe and have Christine back. He could have easily taken them and just make his wish.

But he didn’t. He accepted his ‘punishment’ to guard the pocket dimension he made for Infinity Ultron and Killmonger, stating that it wasn’t really a punishment since he didn’t have to lose anything anymore. (He called the Watcher a friend too😭). But basically what I’m trying to get to, he said that he moved on. He had his redemption arc.

Now we’re back with episode 9 from season 2. Like what the actual hell. Why would he go through all that trouble when he could have gotten the infinity stones in the first place like..make it make sense. And don’t get me started on Peggy Carter and Kahhori. How did they even defeat Doctor Strange Supreme (what in the plot armour was this) like come on? Stephen fought Infinity Ultron and didn’t lose, but lost to Peggy Carter when she had the stones? She even punched him while he was in his monster form. 🙃

Yeah and about Kahhori. She is powerful but not that powerful.

To be honest, they should have left him have that ending from the season 1 finale if they didn’t have ideas for him anymore. Not literally make him the villain and kill him off.💀💀

But that’s Marvel for all of you.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years

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Mommy’s Little Scientist~ Peggy Carter xFem Reader

Peggy fic of reader working with stark and meeting peg in like Cali or something Scientist through Stark, Cali?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, fingering, implied sex, mommy kink, praise kink, implied degradation kink, implied chocking kink 😏, age gap (all legal), Peggy Carter being a goddess

Idk exact length; long but not massive

Enjoy (;

You had started working with Howard Stark because he was said to be the smartest man of the century, and you needed the completion as no one could keep up with your level of thinking. However, you very quickly found out that while Howard was a genius, he was also a horny dumbass. He just couldn’t help himself.

And so when he first met you, a female scientist, all he could talk about was bedding you. And it was exhausting. Eventually you caved and told Howard that you were a lesbian (at first scared because of how ostracized you could be for that) but it surprisingly worked. Although now you had to deal with scissoring jokes on the regular, but hey, it was better than before.

You also quickly realized how harmless Howard was, at least his intentions. So, you two worked quite well together. Aside from him offering you second rounds on his daily flow of women, everything ran quite well.

You were currently single because dating women as a woman was a no go in society but also in the scientific community, you could lose all the hard earned credit which you had accumulated. But that didn’t stop Howard. He was constantly going on about how “You just need to get laid” and “C’mon I know some girls who are into that kinda stuf”, but you simply declined. Every time.

To be honest, watching Howard’s very active sex life, made you a bit jealous. You found yourself more needy and desperate than usual (desperate enough to fuck yourself in his bathroom on multiple occasions, because you were so pent up).

It’s possible that Howard picked up on that, because even though you liked women, Howard was quite in tune with women. This led to Howard trying to set you up with even more women, for gods sake.

One particular morning as you were re-reading your book on quantum mechanics, Howard came in to the lab with his face lit up: “I’ve done it! I’ve found you the perfect woman, my les-bean!” And yes, that was his nickname for you… You looked up at him in disbelief “Oh really?”. “Yep!” He continued “Your gonna love her, she’s right up your alley!” You chuckled, “And what makes you say that?” And he just smirked, “You’ll see”. Now this left you intrigued… Who was this mystery woman who would be “right up my alley”?

And that’s when Agent Peggy Carter walked into the lab with Jarvis by her side. “Miss. Carter, Miss. L/N; Miss L/N, Miss. Carter” Jarvis stated. “Oh Jarvis, go grab some more viles from storage, will ya?” Howard butted in “We’re almost out”. Howard’s words slipped over your brain as your eyes met Peggys. She was gorgeous. But this was THE Agent Peggy Carter… She didn’t like women, did she?

“Right, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other” Howard mischievously exclaimed and then he just left the lab, closing the door on his way out. You heard a click… That bastard had locked the door! Peggy had noticed it as well and interjected before you got the chance “Howard! This is not funny, open the door at once!” She sternly yelled. “Nope!” Howard exclaimed “Not until you both work out your own sexual tensions! C’Mon, you both could use a good fucking for gods sake!”

You looked at Peggy in disbelief. She looked back, rolling her eyes at what you assumed was Howard. “What does that mean, Howard?!” She asked. There was no response. You huffed. Howard was kinda right though… But this was nooo way to solve your own sexual dilemma. Especially not with Captain Americas really hot bay… So you just said the first thing that came to mind, “I didn’t know you were into girls”. She chuckled and hummed, “After Steve, I found that no man could meet my standards, so I tried the other team”. She elegantly spoke, although you sensed some hesitation on the “Steve” topic. “I see”, was all you could manage.

In all fairness, Peggy was really fine. You could understand why any man or woman would want her. Everything from her hips, to her lips, speech, hair, and overall confidence screamed incredibly attractive. “What about you?” She interjected your tunneling thoughts, “How did YOU end up locked in Howard’s lab, and not in his his bed” she chuckled. “I work with him. I’m a biochemist. Sure, he tried to bed me many times, but once he found out I was a lesbian, he switched to trying to set me up with all the other potentially gay women he could find” you chuckled. Peggy chuckled back, “That’s Howard, all right”. You looked at her and she looked back. And you both just sat in silence for a while.

“So…” Peggy started, “if we’re stuck here for who knows how long, maybe we could just get to know each other?” You agreed as there was basically nothing better to do, as Captain Americas bay would NEVER fuck you… “Um sure” you replied “What do you want to know?”. She laughed God, was her laugh intoxicating… “I assumed you would have many questions for me, many usually do; but sure, let’s start with you. Hmm…” she took a second to think “How did you realize you were attracted to women?” You blushed a bit as you began to give an answer “Well, I never had a great relationship with my mother I suppose… And when I started looking to date, I never felt attracted to age appropriate men quite like women… y’know?”

Peggy stifled a snicker and just smirked in response. Shit. You had basically just confessed to having mommy issue in front of Peggy fucking Carter. Who was at least a good decade and a half older than you.

“What about you?” You quickly deflected, hoping to save yourself from any more blushing and kink confessions. “I basically summed it up earlier, after Steve, most men couldn’t cut it for me.” She continued, “Howard said we both had pent up sexual tension. I mean, I understand me, but Why did he say that about you?” Now you were ales most chocking on the oxygen in your throat from surprise. “Uh… I think he just doesn’t like the fact that I’m never seen with anyone else, while he’s with a new girl every hour or so.” You half way Lied your way through that one. It was embarrassing for you to mention not having had any sexual pleasure from another since your studies. It had been a while. That was the true answer. Peggy responded while you were in your thoughts, “For me, I think Howard just wants me to get laid. I haven’t had a good fucking besides my own hand in so long.” Damn was she straightforward… You wish you could just say that. “Yea, I guess that’s part of it for me as well” you managed to get out, feeling back for not being completely honest for some reason. “When was your last time?” Peggy inquired. And this one truly got you. You blushed hard. You choked on your own air. Your eyes widened. You answered with a strain “a long time… since my studies..” you reluctantly answered, yet you felt safe to get that off your chest. Peggy chuckled, “Mine was during the war. Not as long as you, but a few years is certainly long enough.” “It certainly it” you agreed with her, glancing at her luscious lips for a second. Shit. Was Howard right? Would this actually work?

“What if Howard was right?” You asked, not being able to keep the line from your thoughts and your words straight, which you immediately regretted. Peggy looked at you a bit surprised but also pleased, “If Howard was right? Then… I think we’d make a mess of his lab” she laughed teasingly. “Then why don’t we?” You hesitantly whispered, hoping to god she’d say yes. But she didn’t say anything. She simply came over to you, tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and whispered into your ear, “then… you’d listen to every word I say, and be a good girl for mommy.” She backed up to look you in the eyes, hers full of dark lust. “Yes” you breathlessly whimpered. “Yes Mommy…” you whimpered and almost moaned.

The next morning, Howard had this breakfast and made his way down to the lab, exited to see if his little experiment had worked out. He unlocked the door and couldn’t contain his laughter. The lab was absolutely wrecked. Equipment everywhere. And on the center lab table, Peggy had you spread out as she finger fucked you with one hand and had her other wrapped around your neck. “Fuck Howard, out!” You mewled trying to get words out, about to cum for the upteenth time. You were in such a sex fog, you hadn’t even heard him coming or unlocking the door. “Well would look at that!” Howard exclaimed. Peggy moved close to your ear and tauntingly purred, “Last one love, cum on my fingers in front of Howard. Show him and Mommy how much of a lesbian slut you truly are”. And then you came. In front of Howard. And you couldn’t even contain your moan. It was too overstimulating. “Fuuuck, Mommy” you screamed. “Shit”. Howard said. “Hell, maybe I should be a lesbian” he chuckled, as he left the room, leaving you two alone.

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