chrisevansredbelt - Tumblr blog

chrisevansredbelt · 4 months ago

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Playing Dangerous

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader

warnings: not really any! this is kind of a backstory intro. death, funeral, smoking, drinking, drugs, and the sheer thought of jon bernthal.

summary: after your fathers death, you find yourself familiarising yourself with his best friend. his hot, dilfy, big thighed best friend.

multiple parts planned! all inspired by lana del rey songs

a/n: me when im back bc i missed writing... anyway this is a somewhat different universe to my og dbf!frank story but also not because it follows the same concept of lana del rey songs.

ALSO even though it is frank castle... im using characters from the bear... sorry i guess i really am only using frank because of the name i just didnt feel right writing jon or michael SORRY

and i am also using sex and the city characters too okay im sorry if nothing makes sense now but ENJOY

playing dangerous by lana

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

Pulling up beside the familiar cars parked in front of the church, Frank swiftly gets out of his truck, shutting the car door behind him. His brother Carmen, and cousin Richie, stand by their cars, gathering however once Frank approaches them.

"Thought we weren't gonna see another one of these until it was one of our own and when we're 80." Richie notes, hands on hips as the three of them observe the crowd of black disappearing through the church doors.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, well, Brock loved stupid games." He marvels at the amount of people who showed up. Brock always made note of how many enemies he had, he must have forgot to mention how many friends he had too.

Brock was Franks best friend. Ever since being enlisted together, they were pretty inseparable. They then went on to work with each other, shady business that subsequently cost Brock his life.

Brock was on the run from police... corrupt police who would do anything for $20 and a donut. Brock had a hit out on him ever since fucking over an old acquaintance by insulting his wife.

As cops chased him down one night, he was cornered. Brock ended up shooting and killing the cop he hated but was subsequently shot and killed by another.

Some good did end up coming about Brock's passing though, as an investigation was launched into the dead officer and the bribe's he took. Which ended up revealing an international bribe ring of some sort that landed Brock's enemy in jail with a hefty sentence.

Frank wished he had been with him that night, wondering if Brock's life could have been spared in any way. But on the flip side, Frank knew that Brock would have died happy killing the officer he hated so much and recalled the many nights Brock had confessed his disdain against the lifestyle he landed himself in.

"At least he's with his wife now." Carm then adds, earning a nod from the others.

As the last of the guests enter the building, Frank decides it's probably time to follow suit.

As painful as it would be to see his best friend no longer living, they all had a few words to say in the session and there was no backing out now.

Though everyone was still finding their seats, when the three men had entered, they had all still managed to give them pitiful looks. Eyes reading 'Sorry for your loss'.

The three of them make their way to the front row of seats, joining the few others that had clearly arrived earlier.

"Hey," Their sister, Natalie, smiles up at them, scooching over on the pew as they take their seats next to her. They offer greeting smiles back. Frank gazes around the church, admiring the many eyes of religious figures that stare back at him. "Hey, did you see his daughter turned up?" Natalie adds in a quiet whisper, making the three of them shoot their heads around in the direction of her gaze.

There, in the front row beside them sat you. Brock's only child and daughter. Everyone kind of just knew of you and your existence, but never actually saw you.

Though Brock always bragged and boasted about you, how beautiful you were, how proud of you he was, the truth was that he rarely saw you. A few years after he had left you, he occasionally made the effort to at least see you on birthdays and Christmas. But his visits slowly died off.

The relationship was still there, you texted and he sent you letters and money, but you lived with your friend and her family for most of your teen years.

Richie nudged Carmen, wiggling his brows, whilst Frank just takes you in. The men can’t help but ogle at you. You were almost like a fable or myth, and seeing you now for the first time ever was strange.

"Poor kid." Natalie purses her lips, brows furrowed in concern.

Frank knew he had to speak to you. Maybe it was the fact that you were his life long best friend’s daughter. Or maybe it was the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned your figure.

You watch as people leave in their expensive cars down the gravel road, sighing in relief at the lack of attention you were now getting.

Your father was laid to rest in the cemetery beside the church, in a space next to your mother.

Though few people still linger around their cars parked on the other side of the church, you keep your head down and make your way back up the church steps, pushing your way through the big, wooden doors.

You were glad no one else was here. Your social battery was drained for the month after today and you didn’t think you could take another ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, ‘Your dad was a great man’, ‘I’m sure he’s happy to be reunited with your mother’, 'I didn't know he had a daughter'.

You made your way to a random row and knelt on both knees, clasping your hands in front of you and bowing your head.

You weren't entirely religious, nor did you really know what you were praying for. All you knew was that if someone saw you, they would at least respect the gesture and leave you alone.

Wrong.

You hear the church doors open behind you and you close your eyes, quietly sighing. Whoever it is, they do not speak, but you can feel their eyes burning a hole through your back.

Out of curiosity, you lift up your head and turn to the back of the church.

Oh?

"Hi," The man greets sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I’m interrupting.” A small, reassuring smile on his face. You stay silent but shake your head softly, allowing him to continue. He takes a few steps closer, "I'm Frank."

You blink up at him a few times until you connect the dots on who this Frank person really was (and stop ogling at his god-like face) "Oh." You let out accidentally, before clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Yeah, I’m familiar with the name." You choke out, standing from your kneeling position out of respect... though you wouldn't entirely mind staying down there- God, you mentally slap yourself and remind yourself that you're in a church. And on top of that, you knew of Frank to be your dad’s friend... his best friend. You never saw him or heard anything else about him other than him being your dad’s best friend, but it was nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiles warmly now, extending a hand out for you to shake which you do so quite timidly, "Listen, if you need anything… I know you've probably heard that a lot today, but I'm probably the only one who really means it." He jokes and you can't help but let out a small smile.

“Thank you.” You nod. He was right though. Out of all of them, Franks did seem the most genuine. "Thanks for taking the time to check up on me."

He nods in response before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and from that wallet, a small card, "Here, take my number." You take the small business card from him, "If you really ever need anything, reach out… If I had knew your dad would pass so soon, I’m sure I would’ve promised him to look out for you.”

You weren’t annoyed by Frank’s social interaction, unlike everybody else who talked to you today. Everyone else just seemed so full of shit. And Frank at least knew who you were.

You watch as another car passes by before sighing. The heat was starting to get to you a little and as the sun began to set, it landed opposite you, blinding your eyes.

After the funeral, you made the decision to walk to the closest bus stop and make your way back home that way. Though you caught an Uber to the church, you couldn’t bare any more questions or painfully awkward small talk about your day. So you opted for the bus.

The area was nice in any case, a small neighbourhood 20 minutes from Manhattan where you used to live as a child.

It was nice to experience the silence as well. You were so used to the loud of the city that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to just sit with nothing but the birds, the bugs and the leaves. And to actually see the sun without being blocked by some high rise building.

As you zoned out, staring at the ground, you hear the bus finally arrive. Only, you thought it was the bus. You look up and you’re met with a black pick up truck coming to a stop right in front of you and now your heart races.

The window rolls down and a familiar face slightly judges you, "You seriously taking the bus?"

You stand from your seat, small kitten heels clanking against the concrete as you step closer to Franks truck.

You're kind of loss for words. You had made sure to linger in the church for a while and only left when you believed everyone else to have already left. Frank must have stalled in the cemetery or something?

“I..." You start, "I thought it would be relaxing.” You explain vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Frank quirks a brow and you sigh in defeat, “I didn’t feel like talking to nosy Uber drivers.”

Frank cracks a smile, shaking his head and reaches over to the passenger door, unlocking it for you, "Get in."

You're unsure what it is that makes you give in to getting into his car. Perhaps that Frank was probably the closest thing to your father that you were ever going to get in your life and you automatically felt safe with him. Whatever it was, it felt right.

Jumping into his car, you get comfortable, admiring the interior of it. You couldn’t help but notice, however, the faint smell of either cigar or weed lingering in the car, mixed with the efforts of the Black Ice air freshener dangling from his rear view.

Not only this, but you see his packet of cigarettes in his cup holder.

You’d been dying for a cigarette ever since the funeral started, but couldn’t bring yourself to whip one out as you walked to the bus stop- more concerned about your heels and feet surviving the journey rather than your urge for nicotine. And you refrained from doing so at the bus stop in case it pulled up any second.

“May I?” You ask after rummaging through your purse and holding up the small box of sticks.

“Go ahead.” Frank shrugs with a soft smile, “Where do you live?”

You blow out your plume of smoke out the previously opened window, offering it to him, “West 84th.”

“Upper West side.” He notes with an impressed nod, taking your cigarette from you gratefully.

You raise your brows a little, you could not believe it either that you lived there now, "Inheritance came in handy."

The drive to the city with Frank was nice. It wasn’t awkward and you were able to keep a steady conversation. You could definitely see why Frank was a life long friend.

"Which one is it?" Frank asks, cutting your thoughts short as he pulls into your street.

"This white one here." You point and Frank's lucky that there's a vacant spot out front. He seems impressed by your house as he leans over his wheel to get a look at it while he parks.

To be truthfully honest, you were a little bummed once you had come to a stop.

"Do you wanna come in?" You don't even realise what you're asking until it's already out and Frank's looking at you dumbly. Fuck. “I-I just got so much of his stuff, m-maybe you can help me figure out what to do with it?” You try to cover up.

You internally cringe however as you wait for his answer. Why the hell did you just invite this man into your home without hesitation?

You really didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth. But what was even more surprising was Frank's answer, "Sure."

You take Frank up the small stairs to your house, unlocking the door, “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You apologise as he walks in after you. You watch as he takes in your apartment and feel a little insecure for some reason. God, what did it matter what this man thought of your brand new apartment?

“No, it's nice.” He nods and you feel yourself relax. He makes his way into your living room and stares at the piles of boxes and plastic covered furniture. The last of your furniture had arrived yesterday and you had no time, or energy (or frankly manpower for that matter) to sort it out.

"It's a work in progress." You sigh, "I always imagined this to be something my dad would have helped me with." You admit and again, cringe at yourself for being so depressing.

"I can always lend a hand?" Frank offers.

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You didn't mean for Frank to get to that conclusion but at the same time, Frank seemed like he was already going to offer. But you were too humble to say yes, even if you were too cheap to get movers (even though you now had money, old habits never die) and you were convinced you could do it on your own.

But now that Franks offering, you’d be stupid to decline.

The one thing that needed to be put together was your bed, but aside from that your furniture was old, vintage pieces. They were also light so it’s not like it would be entirely arduous labour for Frank, but it would just mean a lot less chain smoking and broken nails for you.

You ended up ordering pizza for the both of you and fuelled Frank with beer as he got to work on setting up your furniture. You helped him out with the light work, but you mostly just smoked and chatted away.

Frank had no issue with it though.

Frank told you many stories about your dad. You realised Franks memories with him definitely outnumbered your own, which was humbling to say the least.

You found the both of you now seated on the hardwood floor of your home, taking a break as you take the time to really talk and eat.

"Can I ask..." Frank starts carefully, and you're mindless to what he's about to ask, "Did you resent your dad?" His question makes you put down your drink, " It's just- you seem to be taking his passing quite well and you were actually at the funeral... Most people I know in a situation like yours wouldn't do such a thing."

You dart your eyes around the room, running the question through your head. You, too, had realised that your own fathers passing hadn't made you a hysterical wreck, like it would have made most people. You also questioned why.

When you got the news that your dad died, you cried but only sparingly and never again after that day. But you went to class the next day, drinks with the girls the next. What the hell was wrong with you?

"I know the shady shit he did killed my Mom." You tell Frank, "I did actually resent him for a while for leaving, then I accused him of killing her and didn't talk to him for a few years." You admit shamefully, "But as I got older, I understood him leaving was keeping me safe and I couldn't argue with that... As for the day he died..." You begin, but take a second to find the words, "I don't know... I guess... it's like he's not really gone." You say, but watch as Frank tilts his head a little in confusion, "Well, he is gone... but it's felt like that for a long time now... Maybe I'm used to it." You feel as though you've just solved the mystery. You feel hot all of a sudden, looking up at Frank and seeing his eyes staring right back at yours. You clear your throat, "Um- What about you? H-How did you handle it?"

"Oh, man." He starts, shaking his head, "It was one of the worst days of my life... I was a wreck." He admits. This might be unfair to say, but you didn't expect a man like Frank to be so open about his emotions, "But your father was all about seeing the good and I just thought, he would kick my ass if he saw me like this instead of celebrating the life we had together and the man he was."

It was silent after that, but you must note that it was a comfortable silence. You let each other sit with the feelings from the conversation had and it felt nice.

Frank is the first to break the silence, by nudging your foot with his, “But what's up with you, girl? Are you in college?”

You smile at him and his effort to lighten the mood a little, “I graduated last year in journalism.” You sigh. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, certainly not for New York. But it was the only thing that really interested you- having spent most of your formative years journaling your each and every thought, experience and emotion. Writing just came natural to you, “What about you? Are you married?”

Fuck, was that too forward?

“I am not married, no.” Frank answers anyway, with a laugh even.

You would be lying if you said you didn't search for a ring when he first introduced himself to you. What could you say, he was a gentlemen. And plus, you wanted to ask in case you just so happened to be keeping him from her by having pizza and beer at your house while he helps you build your furniture.

Yep, that's the only reason.

Frank only stayed for about an hour longer after that. It had gotten pretty late anyway and you were both tired from the day you had.

You walked Frank to the door, giving him a new case of beer as a means of thanks. Seriously, with Frank's help, all you really have left to do is unpack your boxes and decorate the house.

“Thanks for all your help, Frank.” You say, unable to even recall how many times you've expressed your thanks today.

“And I mean it when I said to call me if you need anything.” He reminds, pointing at you and you roll your eyes.

If you were dying or in jail, maybe. But you didn't have many plans to bother Frank. You wish you could-

“Where do you live?” You ask, simply out of curiosity... or desire to be in his presence longer.

“New Rochelle.”

You widen your eyes, but then furrow your brows, “You drove me all the way here even though you lived like 5 minutes away from the church?” You ask in disbelief. He just laughs as an answer, meanwhile you're rummaging to the side through your foyer drawers and handing him a bunch of crumpled President Jacksons, “Here.”

He laughs down at the money, pushing it back to you, “Sweetheart, I’m not taking your money.”

You look at the money shoved into your chest in defeat. But you know he's not going home without something, “Fine.” You mutter before digging through your purse on the same table.

You pull out your metal cigarette case and hand him a pre-roll that you planned to smoke after the funeral.

Frank looks at it longingly, averting his gaze back and forth before slowly bringing a hand up to take it, “Fan of the Blazy Susan’s I see.” He notes, eyeing the pink paper and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, is it too girly for you?” You mock, leaning against your door, contempt now that you've paid your dues.

He tucks the joint behind his ear in response, “Whoever you're buying from, tell 'em you've found someone new."

You're not surprised Frank grows and sells, but you scoff at his persistent concern about you, "I'm sure my weed isn't laced." You assure him.

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but at least mines free."

He had you there. Weed was an expensive habit and you'd considered stopping for a while now, but could never bring yourself to do it. And now that is free and most definitely safe, you wonder if you'll ever stop.

You bid Frank a final farewell and safe drive as he takes the steps down to his car. You wait and watch as he drives down the road and only retreat back inside once he's around the corner.

You can't help but miss his company now that the house is quiet, but lingers his smell.

And as Frank drives through the quiet streets of the city, he can't help but wonder... as do you as you flop into bed...

'Why do I feel this way?' Shortly accompanied with, 'Would it really be that bad?'

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

MANY PARTS TO COME

i hope ive hooked you in, im excited for this series

thanks for reading okey byeeee

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #the punisher #jon bernthal #the bear #michael berzatto #sharp stick #american gigolo #jon bernthal gifs #jon bernthal x reader

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chrisevansredbelt · 3 years ago

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Lamb Two the Slaughter

pairing: dark!bucky barnes x reader (NO STUCKY) established dark!steve rogers x reader

warnings: NONCON. DUBCON. smut. piv sex. unprotected sex. oral (f receiving). mention of bdsm. pussy slapping. steve watching.

summary: bucky’s turn.

since y’all wanted a part two of lamb to the slaughter with bucky, here u go… slay

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

“So when am I gonna have a turn?“ Bucky asks with a wicked smile, eyes never leaving your ass that looks delectable in your mini dress.

You always had the cutest secretary outfits. A mini white dress over a yellow blouse. Black stockings under a mini black skirt are Bucky’s favourite in particular. Steve likes when you wear the white stockings.

Steve scoffs, similarly, eyes never leaving your ass while you stand at the printer, waiting for the papers Steve had asked you to fetch him.

Despite being seperate by a many glass walls, the men still keep their voices to a low mutter, “You fuckin’ wish. Get your own agent.”

Bucky tsks annoyingly, “None of them are like her.”

“Guess I’m the lucky one then.” Steve simply shrugs, going back to typing on his computer- just about ready to send Bucky a document they need to go over- the reason Bucky was here in the first place, believe it or not, not just to ogle at your ass.

“Maybe,” Bucky sighs, adjusting his pants slightly to relieve himself of their tightness as he continues to stare at you. He then turns to Steve after a moment, a sly smile gracing his face once more “So then I guess that means I’ll just have to do it myself.”

Steve scoffs again, hardly flinching at Bucky’s lowkey threat, “If you think she’ll do anything you say without me around, you’re delusional.” He shakes his head.

Bucky shrugs, leaning back in his chair as he takes one final look at you by the printer, bending over to reach the bottom compartment to pull out some more paper to refill it with. Your tits nearly spill out of your blouse a little from the gap you’ve left unbuttoned.

Fucking minx. And Steve has you all to himself?

“I’ll take it.” Bucky shrugs.

Now that was just unfair.

Bucky’s behaviour that day had left Steve feeling all weird. Jealous was definitely one emotion he was feeling.

Although, Bucky was his best friend and he trusted him with his life, there was just something about letting Bucky ruin you that didn’t entirely sit right with Steve. Because that’s exactly what would happen. Bucky would ruin you. Not like Steve hasn’t already- but at least Steve is soft with you.

Steve knows for a fact that Bucky would not be as tender.

And so, Steve did his best to keep you away from Bucky. For now, anytime he had a message to give Bucky, he’d do it himself. He kept you close by at most times or had you closely monitored via FRIDAY.

And when you weren’t working with him, he was keeping an eye on Bucky’s whereabouts instead. When you had a weaponry session, Steve even attended with the excuse of supervising because of a recent “incident”. There was no such incident. And Steve didn’t miss the way Bucky had to hold back from wrestling his best friend to the ground for cockblocking him.

But, despite this, Steve’s best was just not good enough.

You perk up at your desk as you hear the abrupt turning of the door handle and stare wide eyed at your boss as he enters through the door.

Steve offers you a sweet smile as he greets one of his favourite sights- you at your desk, “Hey, Sweetheart.” He beams, walking straight past you and over to his own desk where he needs to pick up a few things before his meeting with Tony.

You struggle to greet him in return, swallowing thickly before finally mustering a weak, “Morning, Steve,”

Steve furrows his brows softly as he turns to face you. You smile painfully at him, brows furrowing slightly as your fingers dig into the keys of your keyboard, “Is everything okay?” He asks worriedly, genuinely concerned since it looks like you’re about close to crying.

You take a moment to respond as you search Steve’s features for God knows what… perhaps knowing. When you feel a soft squeeze around your thigh, you jump slightly and clear your throat, “J-Just dandy.” You offer a fake smile as you go back to fake typing. The half written email now turning into a keyboard smash as you type nonsense.

Steve nods once, looking back down at his desk momentarily as he gathers his thoughts. Compiling his papers, he straightens them out before holding them firmly in his hand, willing his grip not to tear the pages on two.

“Sargent Barnes didn’t happen to come by, did he?” He asks on his way towards the door. You could’ve cried as he prolonged his stay.

Another squeeze of your thigh and you’re hiccuping, “Not that I know of.” You shake your head.

“Okay.” Steve nods finally, making a step closer to the door before he’s stopping again, “Are sure you’re okay?” You stare up at him with furrowed brows, feigning confusion but really you’re just in pain. Steve continues, stepping closer to your desk and you tense up, heart rate quickening, “If he’s said something to you or done something to you, you know you can tell me, right?” You nod briskly, trying to act as casual as possible. Steve then brings his hand up under your chin and you stop breathing for a moment as he leans in closer. One look down to your lap and you’re done for. You softly shut your eyes as his lips near yours, softly pecking the flesh of your lips a few times before retreating, “Good girl.” He praises and you have to hold the moan. He pulls away without a clue, finally nearing the door to his office, “Alright, I have a meeting, I’ll be back in time for lunch.”

You nod, “Have fun.” You muster finally as he disappears out of his office, shutting his office door behind him.

A pop off of your clit brings you back to your painstaking reality and you let out a small whimper that was at the back of your throat.

“Very good girl.” The brunette reiterates from between your thighs, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of you and his chin dripping with your arousal.

Meanwhile, right outside of the door, Steve doesn’t even need to have his ear pressed against his door to hear the lewd activities occurring right behind it. He knew the second he walked into the office and smelt his best friends cologne, mixed with your sweet slick, exactly what was going on.

“Fuckin’ punk.” He mutters, adjusting his raging hard on through his slacks before he’s storming off towards the conference room to have his meeting with Tony.

“Please,” You beg, “Steve won’t be happy if he finds out-“ No matter how good it felt, to have a man like Bucky between your thighs, underneath your skirt under your desk, devouring you like it was his last meal- you couldn’t help the guilt that settled deep within your stomach.

You betrayed Steve. What will he think of you? He’s obviously known Bucky a lot longer than he’s known you… it’s Bucky’s word over yours.

Bucky laughs against your clit, the action vibrating deep to your core and you try not to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Maybe if you hide your pleasure, he’ll stop… or at least Steve will somehow find out you didn’t enjoy it and thus, it wasn’t your fault.

But that’s precisely the problem.

You love it. It was taking absolutely every muscle in your body not to let out small sounds of pleasure as Steve roamed his office just before. It seemed almost that Bucky started licking, sucking and pumping much harder since Steve had entered.

Your thighs squeeze around Bucky’s head as he dives in once more. You’re just grateful Bucky had quietened the sloppy noises he was eliciting once Steve had walked in and you prayed and prayed to whatever God existed that Steve hadn’t heard anything with his great hearing.

Now that Steve is gone, you uncontrollably bring your hands down to Bucky’s hair. With your skirt now hiked up against your hips, you’re allowed easier access to his head whereas before, he had hidden himself underneath the fabric to conceal himself from Steve.

You whimper softly as his tongue laps mercilessly against your folds and his fingers pump in and out of you faster and faster.

Steve never went this fast. Hell, Steve hardly ever did both at the same time- a part of you wasn’t even sure that was possible but Bucky was quick to prove yourself wrong.

You really thought nothing of his entrance to Steve’s office. You smiled warmly up at him, letting him know that Steve wasn’t in at the moment despite it being obvious because of his lack of presence at his own desk.

But Bucky just smiled softly. And again, you thought nothing of it, but now it was all starting to make sense.

“Oh, that’s not a problem dolly.” He sweetly said, nearing your desk, “Guess that just means I get you all to myself.” He joked and you laughed innocently… stupidly.

He sat atop your small desk and you looked up at him expectantly. You couldn’t quite understand what it was he wanted from you if Steve wasn’t here. But if he simply just wanted to talk, then that was okay.

“He’s not overworkin’ you in here is he?” He asks light-heartedly and you huff a small laugh, shaking your head.

“No,” You blush, “He would never.” Steve treats you great… more than great. There are many benefits to working for Steve- but you couldn’t tell Bucky that. Even if he is Steve’s best friend, he can’t know about that…

“Well since you have so much free time, maybe you could start helping me out.” He picks up a random pen from your desk and starts fiddling with it, tapping it against your desk.

You stutter, “I’d have to ask Steve-“

 “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” He cuts you off, “Steve and I share things all the time.”

You suppose that’s true. And plus, what could Bucky possibly ask you to do? Print out a few worksheets, help set up the obstacles and weapons for the other agents sessions? Easy peez.

“Okay,” You say tentatively though, “But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you.” You joke as you raise a brow at him, smile breaking through your facade.

Bucky just blushes, raising his hands in defence, “I’ll happily take it.” You both share a small laugh then. But once it dies down, he’s pursing his lips, tilting his head. You’re too honed in on the doodles on your little notepad in front of you to pay any mind to it though. “Are you busy right now?” He asks and you scoff.

“Yeah, super busy right now.” You smile down at your page full of doodles.

“Well, then I have a job for you.” He says, hardly missing a beat. You look up at him, expecting him to still be seated atop your desk, but he’s standing now. You perk up, more attentive as he rounds the desk. You instinctively push your desk chair out a little as he gets closer to you- but that’s exactly what he wanted.

Your heart picked up a little as he neared and increased tenfold when he rested his hands on the arms of your chair, practically caging you in.

You could only smile nervously as you adjusted to his close proximity. The silence was killing you and his stare was even worse.

“W-What would you like me to do?” You ask, waiting for instruction.

He sighs comfortably as he slowly gets to his knees. You furrow your brows down at him as he moves his hands down to either of your thighs. You tense up almost immediately. You’re naive, sure, but you know for a fact that he shouldn’t be touching you there- so close to your-

“Just sit there and look pretty.”

The sudden curl of Bucky’s fingers cause you to gasp, clenching hard around his digits as they hit a spot only Steve had ever reached. Well, to be fair, Steve was the only person to ever give you such pleasure.

But you would be lying if you said what Bucky was doing to you didn’t feel good.

You can’t help but push Bucky’s head further against your core. He has no complaints as he suckles and flicks your clit with his skilful tongue.

You feel the familiar pressure building up in your stomach and alarm bells go off inside your head. But you don’t want it to stop.

God, you don’t want it to stop.

Your thighs loosen their grip around Bucky’s head as you let him devour you. His fingers no longer feel like blades and his tongue no longer a parasite. The guilt in the back of your mind slowly being eaten away by the pleasure overtaking all of your senses.

And Bucky does the same thing Steve does. He speeds up so fast you can’t believe it could get any faster and at the right moment too.

Your moans start turning silent as you arch your back off your chair. Your legs come up against your arm rests, allowing Bucky the utmost access to your flower.

Before your mind can curse you for referring to it as what only Steve was allowed to call it, you’re cumming. The elastic band that had been stretching inside of you finally snaps, a final lick of Bucky’s tongue and a curl of his fingers has you trembling around him, leaking out onto his tongue.

Your breath quivers as you stare down at the sight below you. Bucky laps up your juices, slowly pulling his fingers out of your weeping hole. He then moves onto his fingers, licking a few of them clean before he eyes you.

You’re honestly still in a state of shock, unbelieving that it all happened- wondering if its all just a figment of your imagination. Sure, you’ve stared a few times at Bucky, heart quickening whenever he’d handle you the way he did in training. But you’ve never thought about this.

It just felt wrong. Especially with Steve- oh, Steve-

Without warning, Bucky’s soaked fingers intrude past your plump lips. You whimper, unexpectedly around them as he plunges them further. You don’t gag, but you should’ve.

Oh, you should’ve. Why did you not? Bucky questions internally. Until he realises- remembers, really who he’s dealing with. And so, he can’t help the smile that breaks out onto his face at the thought. The sole idea that Steve has already trained you and your pretty little throat so well to take all of him.

Bucky’s eyes are enough to instruct you what you need to do to his fingers. You tentatively lick them clean, staring up at him in persistent fear. You feel as if one wrong move and he’ll do much worse than taste you. But you also have a feeling that is coming either way. Perhaps if you’re good, he’ll be gentle?

“Good girl,” He coos, relishing in the sight before finally pulling his fingers out.

You intake a much needed breath of air after having much of it robbed from you. You swallow thickly too, the residue you had cleaned off of Bucky’s fingers, a mixture of his saliva and your cum.

As you timidly stare at Bucky, you gasp sharply as he leans down and presses a final kiss to your clit. It’s overstimulating, but you hope it’s a kiss goodbye as he stands to his full height now.

When his hands begin to reach for his fly, however, your breath quivers. You start to shake your head, but before you can even beg no, he’s whipping his hard cock out of the confines of his pants and jerking it slightly.

You avert your gaze to stare up at him now rather than the terrifyingly large phallic before you. But as you gaze up at him, you’re not entirely sure that was the right decision as he smiles down at you sickeningly.

One of his hands comes down to prod at your chin, cupping it in his warm hand as he forces you to hold your stare up at him, “You better text Steve and tell him you’re too full for lunch.” He says and you furrow your brows curiously, letting out a small noise of confusion, “‘Cause I’m not gonna stop until I’m overflowin’ out of ya’.”

The second Tony had adjourned the meeting, Steve almost teleported to his office. He was lucky that Tony didn’t keep him back- but nevertheless everyone was a little surprised that he hadn’t stayed back regardless. He was the first person out the door- hardly kept it open for Natasha as he made a beeline for his office.

And he could already hear it.

He could faintly hear it in the conference room, everything. But it was quiet enough to drown out as he genuinely tried to regain focus. He just kept hearing muttering and a whimper every now and then that made his heart pick up.

So help Bucky if you’re hurt in any way.

As he gets closer and closer, he slows his steps so as to not look so suspicious. He makes sure no one is around when he opens his door. You know, because it wouldn’t exactly be the best thing to see- Steve’s secretary and agent being dicked down in his office by Bucky.

Outside of the door, his hand almost crushes the doorknob in his hand as he listens closely.

You blinked up at clock on Steves wall, right above the door and whimpered. It’s a little past 12… Steve is bound to be back any moment now. You squeeze your eyes shut, squeezing Bucky’s arm that you had been holding onto for dear life, “Steve’s… gonna walk in-“ You say so weakly you don’t even know if he hears you.

Bucky just laughs, hips never relenting, “Let him walk in.” He says and you softly gasp, “Let him see what a little slut you really are.” He brings a hand down to spank at your clit and you cry out- the pain and pleasure too much.

As if on cue, the door to Steve’s office had opened. If it weren’t for the small bit of light that flickered through the room momentarily, you wouldn’t have noticed, for you were too plagued with not losing yourself completely that any external noise fell on deaf ears.

Bucky’s hips stutter, but they never stop. Not even as he stares back at his best friend stood by the door.

Steve had entered the second he heard the slap, thinking the absolute worse. When he entered, and saw no possible way for Bucky to have slapped your cheek- both hands gripping either your thigh or hip tightly, he relaxed a little.

But there was no relaxing in this situation. Not when you truly had his best friends cock buried deep inside you.

Your gaze fixates on Steve, trying to speak. Trying to explain yet with no words eliciting. You offer pleading eyes, trying to convince him its not your fault. But you can’t read his features in return. He looks angry, but not as angry as you thought he’d be. If anything, he looks mostly jealous.

Your legs are spread open- almost far enough to cover the span of Steve’s desk as Bucky has you perched over the edge, scattered over all of the papers that had been neatly organised by yourself. Your dress is merely hiked up over your hips and from the angle Bucky has you- Steve has a view of everything.

“Just in time for the final showcase.” Bucky smirks, picking up the pace of his hips again and pounding back into your already bruised and battered flesh. Steve seethes as you almost lose focus on him from Bucky’s poundings. Your eyes fall hooded and your chest rises and falls much deeper now. But you keep you remain staring at Steve, though you’re unsure why or what even to do. “You really weren’t joking about this one.” Bucky breathes, a small smile gracing his lips as he runs his hand through his hair. He focuses his attention back to you and your breath hitches as he addresses you, “Show Stevie what I taught you.”

Your eyes widen and you gulp nervously, hand twitching. You look from Bucky to Steve and watch as Steve slowly nods his head once. What?

You gasp softly, but continue to watch as Steve’s eyes soften over and a much more comforting expression washes over him- almost encouraging you. Encouraging you to do as Bucky says.

You then look back at Bucky as you remove your hand from his arm. Looking back at Steve, you move your hand closer and closer until you reach your clit.

Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you begin a slow motion of your fingers, rubbing back and forth on your swollen, little clit.

By the looks of it, your pussy flutters around Bucky’s cock, as Bucky grunts softly. Steve knew the feeling all too well.

But, as Steve eyes his best friend’s cock that disappears inside of you, he sees red. His blood boils underneath his skin.

No fucking condom.

Clenching the folder tightly in his hand- so tight that his knuckles turn white, he mutters, “Don’t cum in her.”

Bucky stares down at his bare cock, before groaning, “But that’s no fun.” He whines, looking back at Steve, who’s far from joking or changing his mind. Bucky then sighs, figuring its the least he could do for Steve after doing everything else he did today, “Fine.” He mutters back.

Bucky grabs a firm hold on both of your thighs, fixing them around his waist before he’s absolutely taking over and pile-driving into your pussy.

You cry, hardly able to continue rubbing your clit as he pounds into you.

Bucky smiles at your weakness and takes over for you- putting up a front for Steve. Sure, he’ll take care of you- only when Steve is watching, of course. Perhaps if Steve wasn’t here and Bucky had you all to himself he would’ve bent you over his leg and spanked you silly for being such a dumb little slut.

The new angle Bucky places you in has him hitting further than he could ever before. And it’s far too much for you to handle. You throw your head back, fisting the wooden edge of Steve’s desk with one hand, with your weak hand still ghosting over your clit.

Bucky soon replaces your hand, pushing your limp one out of the way and using his own to rub at a much faster pace. His metal arm is cold against your skin, but you’re hardly concerned about it’s temperature as he rubs at a speed far beyond your comprehension. You’re not sure if it’s a result of his prosthetic or simply his strength- but Steve has never gone this fast before. Bucky’s fingers across your button feel like they’re vibrating, they’re rubbing so hard and fast.

When you gain the courage to look back over at Steve, he’s a few steps closer- sitting at the edge of your desk, arms folded across his big chest.

He’s just watching. Watching you get destroyed on his best friends cock.

You unknowingly clench when you look at Steve, driving Bucky further and further towards his edge. Bucky can’t even find it in himself to be angry that you’re probably thinking about Steve or wishing that he was Steve instead, because your sweet little pussy is all he could ever ask for.

Steve’s ear twitch at the sound of Bucky’s grunts and the fact that he’s still buried deep inside you, “Bucky.” Steve warns, threatens more like as Bucky almost cums inside of you because the second Steve speaks, Bucky is pulling out and jerking his cock over your core.

You bounce your eyes from one man to another. As Steve holds a scolding look on his face, and as Bucky harshly pulls out his cock and holds it over your cunt, it’s all so much for you.

His hand that’s still rubbing on your clit speeding up one final notch sending you over the edge just in time for Bucky’s first spurts of cum to land over your cunt.

You let out the loudest whimper of the day, back arching and eyes falling shut as the dam finally breaks. Your chest falls slowly as your head lolls against your shoulder- your mouth falling open out of pure exhaustion and need for more oxygen.

Bucky uncontrollably tunnels his vision on the thick dollops of cum that now rest over your pussy, mouth watering at the sight alone. He goes feral honestly, which is why he can’t control himself when he brings his metal fingers to clean up a puddle off of your skin and shove it into your mouth.

Much like Steve, you’re taken aback by it, but do your best to obey as Steve stands and in two big strides is pulling Bucky’s hand out of your mouth, “Alright, enough.” He pushes Bucky’s shoulder playfully- to which the brunette just sighs as he stumbles back into one of Steve’s armchairs in front of his desk, hard cock still out.

Once Bucky’s body is no longer between your legs, you immediately squeeze them together, concealing yourself as Steve approaches.

You dip your head nervously, avoiding his gaze slightly as you try and sit up straight.

He plucks a few tissues from the box on the corner of his desk before he delicately moves your legs bag apart. You honestly flinched at his touch, your mind convincing you that even though Steve had watched the whole time, had encouraged both you and Bucky and only stepped in when Bucky was about to go against his wishes, you still felt like he was mad. Or what you did was wrong. Because… well, it was. No matter if Steve approved or not, it was wrong.

“I’m sorry.” You find yourself mumbling, eyes cautiously raking up his frame, guilt ridden inside of them.

Steve halts his actions as he takes you in, before shaking his head and cleaning you up with the tissue, “It’s okay.” He wipes away Bucky’s cum from your cunt, gentle around your clit, knowing how sensitive it would be, “Remember when I told you that this would be our little secret?” He suddenly asks and you nod, “And I told you not to touch or let anyone else touch you? Only me?”

You blink up at him, slowly remembering the conversation word for word, “… O-Or Sargent Barnes if I’m lucky.” You quote him. A part of that speech that had flown over your head in the moment, but is making so much sense now as you look over at Bucky tucking himself into his pants blissfully.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, reaching for your hands softly to wipe them clean from your own slick, “Well, he got a little… impatient.” He says, placing emphasis on the word ‘impatient’ as he gives Bucky a once over. Steve turns back to you, pulling your dress down from your hips. He was about to question where your panties were, but knowing Bucky as he did, he had a faint idea of where they were. Meanwhile, you’re stuck in your own little world, processing all of Steve’s words. He knew this whole time… it was always going to happen, eventually at least and Steve was totally okay with it. Steve noticed the far off look on your face, so he brings a hand up to cup your cheek and pull you back to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, I thought it might be a nice surprise.” You smile softly- it was definitely a surprise! Not exactly a nice one. “He’ll take care of you.”

Bucky’s eyes darken as you make brisk contact with them. Yeah, he’ll take good care of you. Only when you deserve it, of course. Which, Bucky isn’t sure you always do- maybe to Steve standards, but certainly not to Bucky’s.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader

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