Is That Right? You Didnt Mean To Watch Me Like A Little Pervert? He Speaks In Faux Apology, The Faade

“Is that right? You didn’t mean to watch me like a little pervert?” he speaks in faux apology, the façade eviscerated as his attention flickers to where your dress is ruffled and there’s a glistening trailing down your inner thighs. The man you known to be your best friend’s happy-go-lucky father has been unhinged into a beast of carnal hunger as a result of you. “Is that why you’re making a mess on my floor?” His jaw ticks. “No, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed watching me jack off, wondering if it’d be even half as good as being buried inside you—but we both know it isn’t.”

part one of two. in which you watch your best friend’s father masturbate, and he catches you. (includes best friend’s father!bucky x you, age gap mention, masturbation, voyeurism and exhibitionsm, dirty talk, blowjob—part two will include daddy kink by request of kat @angel-fire, reader receiving oral, size kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex.)

—

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to stay in tonight?” your best friend’s father, James call-me-Bucky Barnes, calls out when he hears the click of heels descending down the staircase, and silences the rumble of his mixer. “I mean, what sounds better, some stupid nightclub or my super awesome brownies?” 

“Some stupid night club,” his daughter answers immediately with a cheeky grin, sashaying ahead of you in a modest but flirty outfit to grab her clutch from the kitchen island. The last thing she needed to go out acquired, she glances at you for additional support in the evening plan. “Right?” 

Strolling behind her, you give an unsure hum. “I don’t know,” you say with an upturn at a corner of your lips. “Your daddy’s baking is pretty convincing.” 

Sinful in a stained apron and chocolate smeared on a high cheekbone, a likewise dripping whisk in one hand, he turns around to face you. His innately affable blue eyes are bright with flattery until landing on your scantily-clad form, then the initial shock darkens to something that lances satisfaction in your gut. 

But he hides fairly quickly, dissolving back into his easy going demeanor (you know, like he isn’t imaging that tiny dress in a puddle around your ankles). He clears his throat with a reinforced smile. “See! Thank you,” he addresses graciously before hastening to divert his gaze. “C’mere, and taste it, kid. Then tell me you’d rather go out.” 

The twenty-one-year-old chuckles at the lame attempt and shakes her head. “No, thanks, dad,” she speaks as she checks her things and ruffles through to ensure she’s got her phone charger, pepper spray and condoms. When it turns out she does, the bag clips close with a clink. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time by yourself,” she says absentmindedly before heading into the den for her car keys.

“Could I, Mr. Barnes?” you ask innocently with a step forward, blinking up at him. 

Seemingly no longer unaffected by the jut of your chest in a black halter top, he regards you warmly. “Of course!” He beckons you over and picks up a wooden spoon to dip into the concoction; in the process, he spills a drop on his opposing thumb, but he pays it no mind. A sample on the spoon, he offers it to you with a beam. “And, you don’t have to be so formal. Call me—”

Instead of taking the utensil, your hand curls around his and pulls down, cutting him off when your lips wrap around his thumb. Doe-eyes locked on his, you sink low to the webbing as your cheeks hollow. Rich sugar explodes on your tongue, invoking a soft moan that has his pupils dilating black. 

Oh, God, you think with a shiver down your spine. 

The look on his face is unlike what you’ve witnessed in the wholesome thirty-nine year old. It’s hungry and desire ridden like his next course of action is to hike up your dress and bend you over the counter; like he’s willing to risk it all to see if the treat between your legs is as sweet as his baking. 

You finally ease off him with a soft pop, lashes fluttering with a barely suppressed smile. “That is really good,” you murmur mischievously, and for added effect, you trail your finger down his chest, through two layers of cloth to feel the hard muscle beneath. “If it were up to me, I’d spend the night with you.” 

Before he can react, a call rips through your interaction: “Yo, let’s go!” his daughter sing songs from the foyer. “Time is wasting, and I would like to get on the dance floor while the night is still young, thank you very much!” 

Disappointment deflates your shoulders as you backpedal. “Have a good night, Mr. Barnes,” you intend to part with: you spin to follow out, but your wrist is caught, tugged firmly so you stumble into his strong embrace with a small squeak. “Mr. Barnes—!”

Two big hands steady you roughly, and he’s flushed you against him. Then he slides down your backside to knead your ass, pawing at you through the soft fabric. His fingers crudely squeeze your cheeks; his pads dig in low and spread, rasping over your puckered rosebud repetitively until he’s dwindled you into a gasping mess. “F - fuck,” he breathes in a borderline growl, jaw clenching as you shudder against him and the sensations deluging you. 

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The Gunslinger Chronicles (6)

Warnings: 18+ Only! Extreme Violence, Graphic Depictions of Gore, Alcohol Abuse, Smut - M/F, Smut F/F, Bisexual Reader, NSFW.

Pairings: Loki X Reader, Bucky X Reader, Steve X Reader, Natasha X Reader

Summary:

“There was a rule in Shield. Never send in The Gunslinger unless the situations already gone south. She’s a ‘break glass in case of emergency’ kind of agent. Or she was.” Natasha elaborated.  

“What is she now?” Steve asked.  

“A fucking corpse is what she’s supposed to be. We thought she went down with The Triskelion, found her body and everything. Even fooled me and Nat.” Clint sighed.  

Steve tilted his head at Natasha questioningly and she shrugged like it was no big deal, but there was a flicker of darkness in her eyes that betrayed her nonchalant attitude.  

“Ok, so why the Gunslinger? Not that it isn’t a cool name, but why?” Sam asked.  

“Because every mission she did was like the Wild West. She wasn’t refined or precise, but she was damn good at fucking shit up. Give that woman a gun and a day, she’d create enough anarchy to bring down a small country.” Clint snorted.  

“And she’s a crack-shot. She is to a gun what Clint is to a bow and arrow.” Natasha added.

Series MasterList

Part Six - The Dead Don’t Lie 

~~~Then~~~

“It’s a simple objective, get in, retrieve the files, get out.”

You cocked your head like a confused puppy and stared at Agent Hill in bewilderment.

“Agent 12?”

“I don’t understand.” You said slowly.

“We have intel that AIM is working on something dangerous and we need more information. Your job is to sneak inside and download the files off of their computer. Just find a computer and insert this USB, it will do the rest of the work.” She explained for the dozenth time, looking more and more exhausted with every repetition.

“Go in, plug in the USB, and then I blow up the building?” You asked hopefully.

“Gun, no!”

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rip steve

You Were Good To Me. (Steve Rogers)

Summary; After a few months, steve were reminiscing the times you had together. Jealousy made its way to his feelings.

flashbacks

You Were Good To Me - Part 1.

MY MASTERLIST

Add Yourself To The Taglists.

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OH SHIT

tapestry 👑 XX

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader comes to terms with her circumstance.

Note: Alright, so I close then open so me getting another chapter up at the same time tomorrow (if at all) is unlikely. But I’ll do my best to have one ready for Saturday. Yeah. We’re almost done with this retail BS but not yet. Anyways, here ya go. (I still don’t know about the cummies or how many chapters we’re looking at, sorry). Hope you like it :)

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

You were adrift on dark waves; swaying in the current. Helpless and weak. Your head pounded and your chest felt heavy. Slowly you opened your eyes, your lashes fluttered as the swaying continued.

Your vision cleared as you realized you were being carried. You lifted your head and looked up at the dark beard and the blue eyes set above it. Lord Barnes’ grasp was strong and didn’t falter under the weight of your body or even your layered skirts.

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Bucky’s Game

Pairing: 1940′s Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Bucky knows how to test your limits, but when he brings Steve into his games, you may have bargained for too much.

Prompt: For @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ ‘s a picture says a thousand words challenge.

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, light bondage, orgasm denial, multiple partners, choking, voyeurism, manipulation, dubcon (18+ only, this is dark Bucky and he’s not messing around)

Word Count: 8k

AO3

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You thought you were going to go mad. It had been at least two hours since Bucky left. You should have been cold, naked as you were in the bathtub, but the fine tremors that went through your body kept your skin hot and flushed.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

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Call Sign: Renaissance // 07

07. Redemption

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Chapter Summary: Dealing with the loss of Sam, you and Steve fight to take down those responsible.

Word Count: 2,444

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of war, blood

A/N: I cannot apologize enough for keeping you waiting. Inspiration finally came and I could not be prouder of the result. I hope you enjoy!

If you happen to be a Latinx reader of mine, feel free to correct any language mistakes I may have made! In a rush to get this out, I didn’t have my friends proof the Spanish!

The last words you spoke to him are echoing in Steve’s ears as he considers his next.

Take care of my best friend.

Of course, Sam is one of his best friends, too. After coming out of the ice into a new millennium, Steve was fairly certain he would never relate to anyone or anything ever again. Then he met Sam.

Right from the start, there was this unspoken understanding. Two separate lives lived decades apart, but so very familiar. From a common bond, a friendship grew - a friendship that Steve knew he didn’t deserve. 

Sam was willing to risk it all for me and this is where it brought him.

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