All is fair in love and war - James B. Barnes

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader

Word count: 2462

Summary: Things heat up during a training session between Bucky and Reader.

Warnings: Pet names, explicit words, teasing, cursing, fighting/training, dirty talk (kinda), innuendos, that stupid metal arm (ugh), kissing, implied smut, seduction 101. That’s it I think, let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :) But if you feel like leaving me some feedback, I’d really appreciate it.

Ps: English is not my first language, I tried my best, but there might still be some mistakes/weird sentences. Sorry :)

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A strategy, that’s all it is. Nothing more than a strategy. A strategy that you’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on because, honestly, how long can anyone take this? Every other day, you find yourself lying on your back, sweaty and out of breath, panting up at the same man pinning your body to the sticky mattresses time and time again. That is, if you’re not pinned to something else.

It probably wouldn’t even be so bad if it wasn’t for the smug, self-satisfied grin always painted on his stupidly handsome face.

So yes, you came up with a plan. Granted it’s a stupid, ridiculous, totally not thought-through plan, but at least you are prepared. That’s what everyone keeps telling you anyway. You should always have a plan.

That’s why, this time, as he effortlessly swipes your feet from under you, sending your body to meet the oh so trusty mattress, you don’t try to fight your way back to your feet before his hips are pinning yours down; one elbow landing a breath away from your face as his metal hand wraps around your throat, asserting the dominance you both know he currently has over you.

Yeah, he’s a show-off and you fucking hate him for it.

The smile that spreads on his lips is slow, teasing and 100% meant to get on every single one of your nerves. That’s another thing he excels at. The fucker.

Your chest rises to meet his sweat-dampened one, cause Mr. ‘I’ll always pin you to whatever surface is closest’ prefers working out shirtless – not that you mind – but still: a show off.

“Gotcha.” A quick eyebrow raise, smile widening as his tongue pokes out to make an appearance.

He’s a show-off and a tease. So, well, you kiss him.

Now your plan didn’t go any further than this exact moment and you’re not sure what you were expecting him to do other than be surprised, but it sure as hell wasn’t to kiss you back.

He’s a good kisser, and fucking hell, you should’ve expected that. You should’ve at least guessedfrom the way he runs his tongue over those lips, the way his teeth sink in them, or even just the easy way they curl around his smile. He smiles like a man who knows how to use those lips.

So, what if you get distracted for a minute or several even? What if your arms encircle his waist and you pull him closer? No one in their right mind would judge you cause he definitely knows how to use those lips.

The position you’re in, or rather his hips pinning your own, limit your movements which is more than a little frustrating – not that you plan on ever admitting that out loud – all you can really do, is wiggle underneath him, until he catches your drift and smoothly manoeuvres to rest between your parted thighs. Bless Sam and his ‘flexibility is fundamental’ policy.

You’d originally thought this would be the long-awaited moment to claim your victory, instead, you find yourself hooking your calf around his thigh, which rewards you with the sweetest, most panty-melting groan you’ve had the pleasure of hearing, and the prominent evidence of how much he’s enjoying the kiss. Now, that, is one hell of a victory.

His hand moves from your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he cups your head to deepen the kiss and when his tongue asks for entrance, you don’t deem it nice to refuse – seriously that would be rude – so you grant it.

He kisses you until you run out of breath and you find yourself wishing you’d taken on Natasha’s advice to increase your damn lung capacity. You don’t have much time to contemplate that thought, though, because then he’s staring down at you so intently with those pretty, darkened blue eyes and, damn, is it even legal for him to lick his lips like that?

“That wa-” Taking your chance while his guard is down, you don’t give him time to finish.

Hands on his shoulders, you bridge your hips and push him off and to the side, the way Steve showed you during your last sparring session, quickly switching positions and pinning him to the mattress. Your turn for a smug smile.

“-uff. Dirty trick, huh?”

You’d probably be more bothered by the fact that he’s grinning again, if it weren’t for his lips still glistening with the evidence of your kiss. His hands resting comfortably on your waist are a plus.

“Gotcha!”

“Doesn’t count, doll. You cheated.”

You shrug one shoulder, leaning down and mimicking his previous actions; elbow by his head and hand around his neck. You’re starting to understand why he enjoys pinning you down so much. He’s still a show-off, though.

“Gotcha.” You whisper the word, letting your breath tickle the sensitive skin just under his ear and thoroughly enjoying the way his fingers flex on your waist as his breathing stutters ever so slightly. It’s payback and, fine, maybe he’s not the only tease.

“If that’s what it takes, I’m more than willing to let you pin me more often, dollface.” The way the pet name rolls off his tongue this time – smooth, sensual, inviting – has you fighting off the urge to buck your hips. You categorically refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“That’s cute, but we both know your ego could never sustain such a blow, sarge.”

With his head thrown back, you feel the laugh that erupts from him travel all through his body, and fuck, the plan was definitely not thought-through.

“Trust me, my ego is getting one hell of a boost with you perched up there, doll.”

He makes a show of letting his eyes suggestively travel to the place you’re sitting on, making you hyper aware of the delectable way his bulge looks in his damned, black shorts. Yep, okay, time to get up before you make a fool out of yourself.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, sergeant.” A slap to his chest accompanies your words and the hard pecs you’re met with, have your core clenching involuntarily. He’s just so solid; it’s unfair. Likereallyunfair.

Before you have the time to redirect your thoughts to something more decent – he is your teammate after all, for crying out loud – he brings his hands under your thighs, lifting your body as he sits up and slams you down between his parted thighs, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

You grunt back something intelligible, sticking up your middle finger for him to chuckle at as he gets back to his feet. God, you really do hate his skilled and overly attractive ass. When you crack open an eye, you find his hand dangling in front of your face: a peace offering. Grasping the metal appendage, you let him pull you back upright and head for your water bottle; Barnes still has 27 minutes and 19 seconds to thoroughly torture your ass before you can call it a day. Yay.

Your back is met with the wall this time, because he likes to spice things up. You huff out indignantly, struggling against the vice grip holding both of your wrists plastered to the wall padding. Why are his hands so big, anyway? Honestly, that’s just unnecessary. You feel like screaming your frustration cause he’s not even using the metal hand and, yet, you can’t make him budge.

“You’re getting better at this.”

Praying for your body not to betray the effect his praise has on you, you flash him your most saccharine, sarcastic smile. “What can I say, Steve’s a great teacher. Gon let me go now, or what?”

Your attitude will be your undoing one day, that’s for sure.

Instead of loosening his grip, he slots his thigh between your legs, spreading them in the process as your hips are pinned to the wall as well. His breathing is ragged and you wish, but you know it’s not due to exertion; you still have a long road ahead of you before your fighting skills manage to exert a super soldier. Still, you’ll take what you can and, now, it’s your ego’s turn to get one hell of a boost.

You don’t dare break eye contact, staring right back at him defiantly. No way you’re backing down. When you feel the almost-there touch of his metal fingers caressing their way up your thigh, you consider caving for a fraction of a second, but then that grin just has to make another damn appearance. Well, fuck him.

“I’m dying to see how you get out of this one, dollface.” His gaze locks on your parted lips. You know what he expects, what he wants, and you also know that he’ll never cave either.

Your voice sounds just as strained and husky as his when you finally manage to get enough moisture back in your dry mouth to answer.

“What if I don’t want to, sergeant?” It’s mocking, provoking and instead of taking it back, your shoulders relax against the wall, pushing your chest forward as your back arches invitingly.

Yeah, your attitude will certainly be your undoing.

His dark eyes find yours again, at the same time his metal hand lands just under your ribcage and his other hand tugs your wrists upwards. You groan at the change in posture; every muscle in your body tensing as you find yourself barely able to reach the ground with your tiptoes.

“Don’t fuck with me, doll.” Huh, you wish.

James fucking Barnes is holding your body suspended in the air. If you were to relax, you’d end up straddling his thigh and the fucker makes it abundantly clear that he knows that by purposefully contracting his quad. Your ego stops you from accepting the tempting invitation.

If your brain wasn’t currently swallowed by a cloud of lust, you would actually be more than a little mortified by the fact that he has you melting against his rock-hard body as muscle fatigue starts to set in.

You don’t know how, and you certainly don’t know why, since your body is rather enjoying the feeling of his, but you manage to use his hold on your wrist as leverage and your knee comes up to awkwardly connect with his side. The movement takes him by surprise and he loses his footing trying to keep you from falling.

You end up back on the mattress in a tangled mess of limbs. The timer going off makes you jump lightly, but neither of you moves to pull away. Somewhere in the background, under the obscene fantasies now running wild in your head, you remember that you’re still in the gym. Anyone could walk in at any fucking second.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” You throw back his words at him and if the answering growl you receive is anything to go by, he doesn’t find you as funny as you find yourself. Oh well. You shrug, sitting back upright on his lap as he lets his head hit the mattress; eyes closing. The privileged seat is kind of starting to grow on you.

“Bucky?”

“Hmmm?” It’s more of an annoyed grunt than a hum, his nostrils flaring as he opens his eyes to find you glancing behind him to check if anyone is there to witness what is going on.

“How’s the ego doing?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

He shifts his hips slightly, catching you off guard and you end up positioned right on top of the delectable bulge that was previously teasing you.

Oh yeah, something is growing on you alright.

Schooling your facial expression as best as you can because – sweet baby pandas, neither his shorts nor yours do anything to conceal what and how much he is packing – you force your eyes to stay on his daring ones. This is the moment of truth: every single, tiny, teasing taunt you’ve exchanged today culminates in this. You, him, your core pressed to his bulge and his lust-darkened eyes boring into yours; you’re going to combust.

“Well then, nothing to worry about I guess. So- ehm, time’s up, you plan on letting me go or what?”

“Maybe…” His hold on your thighs tightens the slightest bit, betraying his words and keeping you rooted in place. “If you ask nicely.”

You huff out a laugh, eyebrows rising incredulously, because he has to know that you’d rather spend the night sitting on his lap than beg. There is no way in hell, heaven and everything in between. At least, you like to think so.

“Sure, in your dreams, pal.”

He sits up then, and all you can think about is how strong his core muscles must be. Does this man ever tire? Apparently not.

“Oh, I’m counting on it, doll. Always sound so damn pretty, too.” That takes you by surprise. You know what his words imply and, suddenly, your brain is flooded back with all those indecent thoughts about your teammate.

Your forefinger finds his chest and you push back, needing to put some space between you and his scorching, hot body in order for your brain to resume functioning properly.

“Well, guess what? If you let me go now, you’ll have just enough time to squeeze in a nap before dinner time.” His back connects loudly with the mat as he unceremoniously falls back down; hands pillowing his head as he stares up at you with a boyish grin.

You lift yourself off of him as gracefully as you can, and just before you stand back to your feet, you lean closer one last time; your finger back on his chest and slowly making its way south. Yep, those abs are as strong as you always guessed them to be. “You should know, though, that I sound much, much better in real life.”

Flashing him a sultry smile, you stand up and revel in the groan that echoes your confession.

“Who’s being cheeky now, huh, doll?”

You don’t turn to look at him, eyeing him in the mirror and enjoying the way his eyes are glued to your retreating figure as he adjusts himself with his metal hand. For some reason, which you do not care to dwell on, that simple action gets you hot all over.

“Sweet dreams.” You toss the words over your back, calming down the raging zoo in your ribcage before you add. “That is, unless you rather get a taste of the real thing, sarge.”

The invitation is followed by a second of silence; then a curse, a thud and some more colourful words reach your ears, before the mat squeaks under Bucky’s footsteps as he rushes to catch up.

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Hero complex - James B. Barnes

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader

Word count: 926

Summary: While on the run Bucky and the Reader encounter a bit of trouble.

Warnings: Pet names, explicit words, teasing, cursing, blood, bullet wound, idiots in love (hehehe). That’s it I think, let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :) But if you feel like leaving me some feedback, I’d really appreciate it.

Ps: English is not my first language, I tried my best, but there might still be some mistakes/weird sentences. Sorry :)

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A groan tears through your raw throat as you’re giving yourself a mental pep-talk trying to prepare for what is coming and knowing, much to your dismay, that it’s not going to help at all.

“You know, hiding is kinda useless if you keep making noise.”

“Oh, sorry my fucking pain is such a fucking nuisance to you. It’s not like I have a damn hole in my arm from saving your fucking ass.”

“Never asked you to, doll.”

Bucky sends a saccharine smile your way, before he turns back around to make sure no one has found your hideout yet. If you weren’t smack in the middle of the enemy’s lair, you would give him a piece of your mind, but knowing how little it takes for your disputes to escalate, you swallow down your retort and focus on getting the bullet out.

Fuck. FUCK! Fuck me and my fucking need to help his ungrateful fucking ass.

Your teeth sink in the flesh just under your bottom lip, trapping in your scream of pain as shaky fingers dig in your bicep; slippery with blood, the bullet keeps escaping your grasp and it makes you want to shout your frustration to the high heavens. Too bad you can’t.

Once sure that you’re safe enough for the moment, Bucky glances back to check how you’re doing. You haven’t lost too much blood, which is the only upside of your predicament. Tears are on the verge of falling from your eyes, and he feels a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

He crouches down next to you and takes your hand away; you give him a confused glare but don’t comment as he sets to retrieve the bullet himself. You hiss as he first touches the wound and his disapproving eyes find yours.

“Sorry. Want me to fucking die quieter?”

“You’re not going to die. Stop being so dramatic.”

You feel an unimaginable need to stick your tongue out at him, but since his fingers are about to dig inside the hole in your arm, you decide against it. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

“Bite down on something, this is gonna hurt.”

He’s right, his fingers are bigger than yours, but with the pain making you dizzy you can’t summon the strength to pull it out yourself. Whoever said that there’s strength in numbers, never stopped to consider how weakening getting used to the possibility of relying on others could be.

You bite down on your uninjured hand, hoping for the pain you’re causing yourself to trick your brain from focusing on the pain Bucky is about to unintentionally inflict. It’s useless, you already know that.

Bucky’s eyes find your face, wanting to give you a heads up before starting, and his stomach fills with dread at the realisation of just how screwed he is.

You’re scrunching your eyes closed, teeth gnawing on your hand and he shouldn’t, really, it’s not the time for such thoughts, not when you’re bleeding and in pain and – fuck, what if they find you? But he takes his time and commits the small details of your face to his memory.

Flushed cheeks, wet with the tears you’ve tried to push back; irritated lips bitten raw in your attempt at reigning in the pain; clammy skin, dampened by the cold sweat you both worked up during the chase; Bucky knows he’ll never get another chance to be so up close to you.

He drowns the thought urging him to push the stray strands of hair stuck to your face and clears his throat; professionalism is his strongest suit.

“On three.”

You nod once, pull in a long, shuddering breath through your nose and sink your teeth a little deeper in your hand. Completely, undeniably useless; the second his forefinger digs in to locate the foreign object, you feel your soul on the verge of leaving your body.

Fucking hero complex.

The suffering comes out as a sobbing whimper, and your widened eyes find Bucky’s face; teeth releasing your limb because – that trick never work, does it?

He’s even more handsome up close. Straight nose and full, plump lips. Your brain focuses on counting the light dusting of freckles across his skin; marvels at the long lashes creating the softest of shadows on each delicate flutter. Oh, he’s prettypretty.

Bucky glances up, your eyes lock and for a second he actually seems taken aback by your staring. One beat. Two.

His eyes are so bright and so dull at the same time.

The shadows of his past cloud the pools of blue Steve has told you about. You knew that, knew what to expect when they made you teammates; listened, memorised and dreamt of all the information Natasha and Tony had given you. He’s a ghost story and yet…

You try to blink away the thoughts, afraid he might catch on to your inner ramblings. One blink. Two.

His fingers pull out the bullet and your nails dig in his quad with everything you have left. Neither of you can tell when your hand found his thigh. He doesn’t complain, though, doesn’t even flinch at the action.

“What the fuck happened to ‘on three’?”

His lips tilt at the corners, if he wasn’t a breath away, you would never have caught the action.

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“And you’re fucking welcome, doll. Now, shut up before you get us caught.”

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at his back. Ungrateful ass.

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Pretty - James B. Barnes & Steve Rogers

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader×Steve Rogers

Word count: 2110 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry)

Summary: Sexy times with the Super Soldiers.

Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Daddy!Bucky, Captain!Steve (is this a thing?) explicit words, smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, chocking I guess, Dom!Bucky, Dom!Steve, so much dirty talk :), fingering, hints to unprotected intercourse, daddy kink (beware: this is my first time writing it), captain kink, sub!reader, masturbation, threesome. Let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is, once again, I don’t know :). 

The gentle light from the candle flickers on the walls, creating soft shadows in the otherwise dark room. You can feel the silky fabric of the robe you’re wearing tickling your skin, caressing it with every twitch of your muscles. Your nerve endings are on fire, crackling on each movement, each lungful of air; your mouth feels dry and you swallow again for the 5th time in the last couple of seconds.

“Look at that. So fucking wet, darling.”

Teeth sinking in your bottom lip, you nod to Steve even though his words are not meant as a question; eyes begging him for something, anything. The way he’s looking at you, the sound of his voice - almost as wrecked as you feel - the words he normally chastises you for falling from his bitten lips, every single thing has more slick gathering between your thighs.

“You like this, don’t ya? Being watched as you fuck yourself?”

Bucky’s voice is darker, smugness dripping from the words because he already knows, but he loves the way you get flustered; the way you look away from his eyes in embarrassment.

His teasing elicits twin groans from you and the blonde sitting next to him. They’re both at the foot of the bed, shoulder to shoulder as they watch with rapt attention how your fingers press inside of your pussy.

Your legs are spread open, knees bent as you lean back on the pillows Bucky has lovingly set against the headboard. They love your eyes on them, get off on having you watch the way you affect them as you pleasure yourself. Steve’s hand moves to the prominent tent in his slacks, palms it for just a second as another guttural groan escapes his mouth at the wet sound of your lips accommodating your fingers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she, Stevie? Pretty pussy peeking through the lace?”

Steve brings his eyes to yours, watches as you plead with him for more. You can tell that if it was up to him alone, he’d already be balls deep inside you, but Bucky enjoys the teasing.

“Fuck yeah, she does. You know she does.”

His sky-blue eyes darken a little more as he turns to catch his best friend’s gaze. They stare at one another for a moment, and then Steve’s eyes glance to Bucky’s lips as they curve up in that grin that never fails to bring either of you to your knees.

A frustrated whine slips out of you when Bucky’s metal hand wraps around Steve’s throat. You feel the green-eyed monster rear up its head at the sight of the black contrasting so prettily against Steve’s flushed skin.

“Wanna fuck her, Stevie?”

“Taste her. She’s so wet, smells so fucking sweet.”

Yes, please. Another whimper, your hips buck up at the suggestions; either of them would be more than welcome since your fingers are not cutting it anymore. You feel Steve’s fingers caressing up your foot, but you know better than to move. You keep still, breath stuck in your lungs as his fingers wrap around your ankle. Bucky mirrors his actions and they jerk your legs apart a little more. You yelp in surprise at the sudden movement.

“Oh, she smells delicious, a’ight. And your face does look real fucking pretty framed by her legs.”

Steve’s hand goes back to palming his dick and Bucky chuckles allowing his eyes to follow the gesture. You would protest at the loss of contact if your own eyes weren’t greedily soaking up the erotic scene before them.

Bucky tsks, metal hand gliding up his friend’s neck to land on his cheek; fingers softly sinking into Steve’s stubbly skin while his thumb caresses his bottom lip.

“You want it bad, don’t ya?”

Steve barely nods, doesn’t even need to because Bucky can read it all on his face. His tongue pokes out of his parted lips, tip grazing Bucky’s thumb and it’s the brunette’s turn to bite back a groan.

“See whatcha did, dollface? Got Cap here all wound up for you.”

Bucky’s silvery gaze finds yours, and you swallow again at the dryness in your mouth as all moisture keeps gathering south. He smiles at you, all soft and warm, and the complete opposite of his words and the dark promises in his eyes.

“What do you suggest we do about that, hum?”

Your eyes go back to Steve’s form, wander over his body, from his chiselled face down to where his hand is still squeezing his cock. You wish you could undress them with your thoughts alone.

Before you can answer, Steve interrupts you.

“Keep fucking yourself, darling.”

Bucky kinks an eyebrow disapprovingly and you realise that sometime, as you lost yourself watching them interact, you’d stopped moving your fingers. Not that anyone can blame you; your boys are just too fucking pretty.

You resume your teasing, because that is all you can really do with your underwear still on, but Steve likes it. He likes to see your skin adorned by the lace as you touch yourself; that’s the reason behind it overflowing your underwear drawer.

Eyes apologetic, you push and pull, turning your attention back to Bucky.

“Whatever you want, just…do something.”

Steve squeezes himself a little harder at your breathy voice, and switches hands so that he can bring his left one back on your leg. This time it rests a little higher, grasping at your calf as he eyes your body hungrily.

“Whatever we want? Oh, dollface, you sure you can take it all? Takeusboth?”

You nod, fingers quickening slightly when your mind starts conjuring up images of what Bucky’s words might entail.

“Yeah? Gon let us have our way with ya?”

Bucky’s voice is even deeper than before, getting huskier by the second and Steve moans at his words, unbuttoning his pants. Fucking finally.

“Yeah. Yes, Bucky, please.”

They move at the same time, shifting closer to your body and you can finally feel the heat radiating off of them. Steve’s hand is now on your thigh, fingers moving along the inner muscle until it quivers with anticipation. He grins at you, all boyish and carefree with a barely concealed hint of mischief.

The black, hard metal of Bucky’s hand makes contact with your tummy, forefinger tracing your navel as you marvel at the light reflecting off the gold decorating the arm. Your quick intake of breath pleases him and he leans closer until he’s face to face with your heating cheeks.

“What d’ya need, dollface, huh?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let the hand that was clenching the sheets move to find his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to urge him to speed up in his ascent towards your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me. Need it so bad, please.”

“Always so fucking polite, darling. So fucking pretty for us.”

Steve tugs on your wrist and your fingers easily slip from inside you; the panties’ elastic gently slapping back into place. Both yours and Bucky’s eyes are glued to the blonde as he brings your fingers to his mouth and sucks them in, eyes closing in delight when your juices reach his tastebuds.

Heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise silent room until he releases your fingers with a lewd pop, bringing your hand to his chest before letting go of your wrist. He moves then, settles between your parted thighs and that seems to be Bucky’s cue to focus his attention back on you.

“Want Cap’s cock, dollface? Want him to fuck you?”

‘Cap’, you know what that means and you moan your answer, a broken ‘yeah’ that has Steve hurriedly pushing his zipper down and rising to his knees to shove the pants out of the way. Humour is coating the brunette’s voice when he wraps his hand around your throat and a desperate whine slips past your glistening, bite-swollen lips.

“And what about me, huh?”

“Want you too; want both, please.”

Unable to stop yourself, you glance at Steve as he’s unbuttoning his shirt, gaping at the expanse of muscle being revealed and hoping for him to lose the boxers a little bit quicker. He smiles when he catches your eyes, discarding the material aside and grabbing his cock again.

“Gon let Daddy fuck that pretty, little mouth of yours, darling?”

Oh. Stunned into silence, you keep your eyes glued to him until Bucky’s fingers tighten around your neck, effectively diverting your attention; claiming it back as his own.

“Answer him, dollface, gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

“Yes, Captain. Wanna feel Daddy down my throat.”

Both men moan at your words, Steve shifting until his hips are bracketed by your thighs; his cock now free and resting on your panty-clad pussy. He rocks forwards once, creating such delicious friction on your clit that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Look at you, doll. You just wanna be a good girl for us, don’t ya?”

“Uh huh. I'mma be a good girl, Daddy. I’ll be your best girl.”

Steve ruts against you again, hands hot on your thighs, using the hold for leverage and pulling your body down as he surges up. Your thoughts scatter all over the place; mouth falling open on panted nonsense and pleas.

“Oh, we know you will. Now c'mon, darling, give me one before I fill this pretty pussy up.”

Groaning your understanding, you clench the sheets in one hand, bringing the other to Bucky’s forearm for something sturdier to hold onto as his best friend keeps rocking you back and forth.

“You want that, doll? Want Cap to come inside that tight, little pussy of yours?”

“Oh God, yes! Want it so bad. Fuck, Captain, don’t stop, please.”

He quickens his pace, his cock catching in your panties until Bucky reaches over and pulls them to the side, baring your pussy to his friend before bringing his hand back to your throat.

“You hear that, Stevie? Think we spoiled her too much.”

Steve grunts something that you can’t quite make out, but Bucky seems to understand him just fine if his chuckle is any indication.

“Bet you want Daddy to fuck your pussy, too. Don’t you, doll? Cause one’s not enough for you anymore, is it?”

You hear rustling and open your eyes to see Bucky stroking himself through his jeans. Without waiting for his say so, you reach over and unsteadily unbutton and unzip them for him. He pulls his cock out and you take over again, thumb collecting the warm precome before you start stroking him as best as you can.

Steve leans over then, his skin hot as it barely grazes your rising chest on each intake of breath. They’re shoulder to shoulder again, Steve’s nuzzling your neck on the right, while Bucky is still upright, leaving room for you to work on his cock.

“Is that true, darling? You gon let Daddy fuck this pussy when I’m done with it? Let him use my come as lube? Is that what you want?”

A fresh wave of slick coats Steve’s cock after he husks the filthy words in your ear; his hand joining Bucky’s around your throat so that they’re both framing your neck.

You groan something intelligible because you’re too far gone; hips thrusting up knowing that you need just one more push and you’ll tumble over the edge. Bucky groans, his fingers twitch against your heated skin before he turns to face Steve.

“Fuck. That’s so fucking nasty, Stevie.”

“Shut up, you love it and, from the way she just flooded by dick, she does too.”

“I do. I do, please Captain. Would be so hot, to have you and Daddy filling me up, fucking my pussy ‘til I’m full and leaking on the sheets.”

You bring your unoccupied hand to the back of Steve’s head, keeping him close to you as his hips rut faster against your swollen clit. Bucky’s free hand wraps over yours and helps guide it as your body begins to turn to mush; all muscles slackening with the fast approach of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m com-”

The words die on a silent scream when you convulse underneath Steve, feeling his left hand clutching your thigh while his body seizes up and a long, drawn out groan leaves his parted lips. Bucky fucks up one last time into your fists, and comes with a soft, almost inaudible moan that sears itself in your brain.

A beat passes, you’ve barely sucked in enough oxygen, before you feel the grips at your neck tightening again.

“Hands and knees, darling, c’mon.” 

More notes, cause why the heck not?: Please consider leaving me some feedback? Maybe? You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it. Thank you for reading in any case :) 

As requested: Pretty 2

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Some you win and some, well, you win. - James B. Barnes

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader

Word count: 1206 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry) 

Summary: Bucky and the reader engage in some teasing games. 

Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Boyfriend!Bucky, explicit words, lead up to smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, light chocking I guess, kinda Dom!Bucky. That’s it I think, let me know if you fiind more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :)

It’s written in a third person’s point of view, but it’s still reader insert, I guess. ‘*Name’ stand for (Y/n), sorry, I’m lazy :) 

••••••••••••••••••

She watches as he moves from the counter to the fridge, entranced by the way his sweats shift following his movements, loving the way they cling to his thighs. She’s in absolute love with those thighs of betrayal of his.

She can’t help herself; she’s fucking starving and James Buchanan Barnes is a whole damn meal.

His metal arm pulls the fridge open, and she’s certain her cheeks are flushing red courtesy of the thoughts swirling in her head about that beautiful arm in general, and those thick fingers of his in particular. His hand resurfaces from behind the door with a water bottle and the panties she’s wearing dampen before he even brings it up to his lips.

Her eyes are glued to him as his pink tongue darts out for a quick swipe over those full lips of his before the neck of the bottle makes contact with them. She groans her appreciation and his cloudy blues find her; a small, smug smile spreading on his face as he purposefully lets a drop escape to trail down his chin and along his neck. 

She envisions her tongue slowly licking up that trail and in doing so, she clenches her thighs together, anything to get some friction and alleviate the ache. Bucky is full on grinning now as he lowers the bottle, there’s a teasing laugh that lights up his eyes and she wants nothing more than to walk over to him and kiss the smugness off his beautiful face. She doesn’t, though, because she already knows how this dance ends, and it’s a very happy ending.

James Buchanan Barnes is a fucking tease and she’s a sucker for the anticipation.

“Something you want, dollface?”

She shakes her head, smiles seductively at him and slides down in the armchair she’s sitting on, spreading her legs as she gets in a more comfortable position for their little game. His eyes dart down, and they darken, pupils dilating to leave a barely visible ring of the steely blue she loves so much. Bucky lets his eyes linger and then slowly brings them up, taking his sweet ass time in mapping her body.

There’s a filthy promise in Bucky’s eyes when they meet hers once more, and her heart skips a beat when he leans back against the counter. He’s not going to make the first move. Teasing, however, he’s going to do plenty of that.

His hand reaches for the fruit basket and he has the guts of winking her way as he grabs a banana. She chuckles with a shake of her head, he might be sexy as hell, but he is just as childish.

Bucky takes his time as he peels the fruit, eyes locked on hers, watching as her gaze follows his fingers; he knows her weaknesses and he plans on using each one of them to his advantage. As he brings the banana up to take his first bite, he makes it so that his movements deliberately pull his t-shirt up in the process, blessing her with a glimpse of his well-defined lower abdomen. That’s the only reason behind his sweats always hanging low on his hips.

She loves the glimpses and he loves how much she loves them.

The happy trail she hardly has a chance to see, is like a neon sign directing her to the jackpot. If she wasn’t so competitive, she’d already be sliding to her knees. Her tongue pokes out, wetting her parted lips before it settles against the corner of mouth, teasing him as much as it’s teasing her as their minds wander.

His right hand finds his cock and he readjusts himself, the way his nostrils flare and his bicep flexes with the twitch of his fingers, informs her of the effect her simple actions are having on him. She feels forever in debt to whoever invented muscle tees.

Bucky undresses her with his eyes, and his next bite is far more frustration ridden than the first.

When he switches hands, brings the metal one down to cup himself, she crumbles, breaks and melts right there under his gaze and he grins wolfishly. She gets up, sways her way to him and he licks his lips, traps the lower one under his teeth when she comes to stand in front of him.

The half-eaten banana is discarded on the counter behind him as he leans back on his hands, waiting for her next move. He fucking loves winning.

Her hand reaches up, thumb tracing his bottom lip, releasing it from his teeth while she cups his jaw. She stares until she gets her fill and then leans up to ghost her lips on his.

“Such a pretty fucking face. Just made to be sat on.”

He ducks down, feathers his lips along her cheekbones as he walks her back until he has her trapped against the island. Thigh slotting between hers, he brings his hands low on her hips, drags them tortuously up until they borrow under the t-shirt she has on; the shiver that runs through her is nothing compared to things he’s going to do to her and yet, it does things to him.

Oh yeah, he really fucking loves winning.

“Too bad, dollface, ’s already taken.”

She pouts briefly, and damn if he doesn’t love the little jut of her bottom lip, always begging to be sucked on. Then her hands are moving from where they have found their place around his midriff, gliding down his sides, until they reach his Adonis belt and pull on the elastic band of the stupid grey sweatpants she adores on him. She may complain about what a tease he is, but she’s just as bad.

“Anything I can do to convince you to make an exception, sarge?”

“Getting desperate for it, aren’t we?”

He nudges her nose with his, whispers the words against her lips; hands pulling her down to press on his thigh as he flexes his quad just to get that sharp intake of breath out of her.

“Don’t get cocky, Barnes, you may have won this round, but I’m gonna have you fucking begging next time.”

A chuckle rumbles up his chest, husky and deep, and she feels it reverberating against her chest as his eyes bore into hers, flames lighting his calming blues with dark intent. He pulls her sharply up until their hips connect and she can feel how hard his cock is for her; he smells the arousal pooling in her panties, hears the gush of wetness.

“Bold of you to threaten when you know who’s gonna be making the rules, *Name.”  

“Bold of you to assume I can’t take your worst, big boy.”

The sentence finishes in a rush of breath out of her parted lips as he easily hoists her up, metal arm around her waist as his flesh hand wraps around her throat. She loves his blatant displays of brute force, they tap in some primitive part of her brain and never fail to render her a speechless, needy mess for him.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you, dollface.”

James Buchanan Barnes loves winning, and sometimes, when he gets like this, she really loves losing. 

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