For the Lover Girls

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~ All of my writing is tagged under #tsiwrites, and specifics are are tagged with the characters initials. (ie: tsiwritesPP for Peter Parker). All of the fics I have written so far will be tagged below.

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~ My other Masterlist for Kuroko no Basket

- My Bucky Barnes Masterlist

- My Other Marvel Men Masterlist

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~This list is updated every time I post a new work

AARON wants the strained silence. Sometimes things aren’t perfect; Jack is home or you two are short on time. Sometimes the two of you just can’t muster the flirtatious manner that usually does it for him; his whims are the ways you adapt your pleasure for him. He revels in the intense eye rolling and that soft grip turned deadly slashing across his back when you need some way to get it all out. Give that to him — he’ll translate it for you, baby.

DEREK wants the whimpering. The moaning is alright, dirty talk is an acceptable medium but what he needs from you is the complete and utter undoing that only a whimper can demonstrate. He wants to coax it out of you, he needs to push you to the point right beyond where you can’t take anymore, that’s his spot, that’s where he gets off. He wants to make you feel good even after it starts to hurt and he will.

EMILY wants the fire. The broken vases and slanted table legs. The neighbors' complaints that she’ll apologize for with blushed cheeks. Rolling around on the floor because the waiting for the bedroom is too much, just because the two of you can. Emily is obsessed with being consumed by the need for it.

JASON loves the theatrics of the whole. As a lover of fine art why would this be any different? Dress for him, strut for him, dance for him. Drag it out, a sensual show during dinner, the burning anticipation during the movie on the couch, the fiery slow. Everything starts before your hand ever touch one another. 

JJ wants the rough, sticky, messy culmination of your love. The bruising, biting and marking underneath her pressed blouse in the morning, slight soreness from the overexertion of some muscles. She wants the fallout because she can take it.

WILL wants the unshifting weight of you - just let it fall, lean into him. He needs you to always come back - a switch of positions but come back, find some way to press against him, reach out for him even when he’s close. Let your knees buckle, lose yourself enough that you’d let him carry you.

   “Babe! Are you even listening to me?”

   “I’m always listening to you, doll.”

   “I can barely hear you with how deep your head is stuffed in that newspaper, liar! You haven’t even looked at me.”

    He chuckles, rich and deep just the way you’ve always liked it. “I can’t multitask?”

   “No… not unless you hate me.”

   Buck shakes his head, completely taken by your antics. He sighs heavily like he’s aggravated but there an entertained upturn of his lip that lets you know otherwise. He shifts in his seat, the sofa in the living room of your apartment. You bought it before the idea of there being a Bucky had ever been imagined but he lounges on it, and somehow the material warps to support him perfectly like he was there during its creation or you’re just smitten with your boyfriend. 

    “I’m sorry baby, that was wrong of me. Go ahead.” He gestures. 

   “Thank you. She’s such a freaking bitch, like imagine? Why would you say something like that - something so insensitive given what she’s told us, you know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He nods and looks at you intently, except… his eyes linger in places they shouldn’t; your lips until a small smile appears on his face then they travel up oh so slowly to meet your gaze.

“Don’t do that.”

   “Don’t do what?”

   “Don’t look at me like that.”

   “Like what?” He asks as he slowly, torturously tilts his head, and those pretty eyes of his began raking you over.

"You know what... I'm sick of you."

Bucky sputters then laughs. "I'm not looking I get in trouble, I look I'm in trouble. Which is it, pretty baby?"

"Dude, I swear I’m going to make the living room your permanent vacation spot.” You flung a pillow at him.

“People used to just be able to love their girlfriends in peace.”

“You cannot just keep popping up here because you feel like it. It’s crazy!”

“I love you. You know that, I love you so much, she was a mistake, baby. I was stupid and I was young—“

“You were the same age you are now, Dominic…”

“THAT. It’s that bullshit, that’s the reason we can’t be together. You can’t forgive, always bringing up old shit.”

“You’re the old shit, Dominic, we’re fucking done. Have been for months!“

“You don’t mean it, you just need to hear me out.”

For Christ Sake. All you’ve ever done is hear him out. Every couple of weeks when he’s decided you’re the love of his life and that he needs you to come home to the two kids and Golden Retriever that you two don’t share, you have to deal with this; him yelling, screaming, crying apologies. You always humor him because deep down, like really deep down, deep deep deep down Dominic is a good person, or he can be, and he just needs a friend. Tonight though? He couldn’t have picked a worse time than tonight to want to be coddled.

You hadn’t put on setting spray yet, you were clad in Mike Wazowski slippers and christmas pajamas and Dominic has yet to stop the foolishness. You were supposed to be on the way to a 5:15 showing and it was already 4:30. Buck would be here any minute - You spun around at three knocks and your door and cursed your life.  For fucks sake! You stared at the door.

”You’re really gonna to get that? I’m trying to fix us!”

 Fuck.

He knocks again, gently but you can tell he heard, and that was his way of asking if you were okay. He likely wouldn’t ask a third time. Before he could think up anything hearing a mans voice behind the door you leapt across the living room and threw the door open. “Hi.”

Your eyes flutter up to meet Buck’s and Dominic is as good as gone. Things tend to blip in and out of existence when Buck came around. One second your phone existed, when Buck looked at you it didn’t. One minute Real Housewives of Atlanta existed, Buck called your name and it didn’t. One day Buck got here and Dominic had to leave.

“Hi.” He offers a small smile that you’ve come to love. It’s a secret smile, shows his teeth and crinkles his cheeks and it’s yours. Your smile to cherish.

  “Hey.” 

   He chuckles, “Hey. You ready for dinner? I thought you said casual.” Buck quipped at your face full of makeup and pajamas. 

   You slapped him lightly against his chest. “I’m not finished getting ready, you jerk.”

   “I think you look perfect.”

   “Stop it. You’re supposed to save it for when I actually get ready for you. Not for my Monsters Inc. slippers.”

   “You look ready for me right now.” You meet Buck and you can’t feel it because your face is numb from smiling so many minutes in a row but you’re beaming. Like always Buck meets you there. He was always looking for you when you were looking for him and you always found each other. 

   “You’re a freak.”

   “You started it.” He grinned as he leaned against the doorframe.

   “Hello? You fucking with me? Who the fuck is that!” You stepped outside into the hall quickly shutting the door behind you, putting you against Buck’s chest. “You’re early. Which I love, by the way it’s just a bad time - ish?”

   “Dessert’s supposed to be after dinner.” He whispers huskily, looking down at you. “I tell you you look fucking gorgeous?”

   “You’re ignoring the man in my living room. Very handsomely by the way. You look amazing, is that a new aftershave?”

   Buck cradles your jaw in his palm, “It’s the one you bought me, I’m glad you like it.”

   “You’re going to ruin my makeup.” You breathe out and Buck breathes you in, leaning closer, “And I can explain — he’s not, mhm.” Your words melt on Buck’s tongue and the world fades to black. He tastes like toffee and sex. Interlaced between your licking and his sucking Buck, swiped his around your neck to feel your pulse under his thumb and every deep breath you tried to take under his palm and that ruined your fucking panties.

   A cacophony of gasping, moaning and groaning — “What the fuck?” Dominic roared throwing open the door.

   Somewhere in your brain you could hear Dominic yelling, and storming off but in other parts you were still registering the feeling Buck’s hand on your ass and hand in your hair and his breath against your face. “We’re gonna be late to the movie and dinner, s’all your fault.”

   “I’m sorry.” You gulped breathless. “I really should’ve been ready.”

   “Yeah. You should’ve.” Bucky wiped away your smudged lip gloss. “What made you so late anyway, baby?”

Barreling through the gyrating crowd with your vibrating phone in hand, bulldozing innocent patrons wasn't ideal but you were hoping to find a quiet corner before you miss this call. The second your foot touched the floor of the buffer space, a little hallway of sorts between the dance floor and bathrooms, you press your phone to one ear and press your finger into the other.

   “Hey bab-“

   “This fucking pocket pussy doesn’t work.”

    “What?”

   “It doesn’t. work. It doesn’t feel good, not good enough. I need the real thing.”

   “Bucky?" You call out still absolutely puzzled before you note his slightly slurred speech, with his voice deeper than usual you know he’s been sipping on something strong, the dark liquor in the cabinet undoubtedly. “You’ve been drinking.” You giggle ignoring his odd opening line. “Having fun?”

   “How do you do it?” He sighed in frustration. “I’m doing everything that you do. Givin' myself a hand job just like y'do. It doesn’t feel good,” he groans, somewhere between his compliment, and the rasp in his voice that's making his need apparent something in you starts to ache.

   You clear your throat, “Bu-“

   “Always cummin' good with you, buckets. It'll br slidin' down your hand already, lookin' pretty on your nails, and you just eat it all up. Sometimes you let me taste but I have to make you because you’re so fucking greedy. Why are you always so greedy with it, hm? I’m cummin' again for you always - you make me cum over and over and over again but I’ve only come once tonight. Why doesn’t it feel like yours?”

   He could not be serious right now. He could not be serious. Liquor or not he has to know he's being an asshole. Waiting until you get out in public to act a complete ass on your line knowing you’ll come running. That was manipulation and he was using his dick to do it.

   “And this fucking fleshlight. Trying to fuck it but it’s not making your sounds, you know that pretty sound you make when my dick is right on between your thighs - when you want the friction? And you let your pussy just wet up my whole dick- so fuckin sloppy and it’s pretty.” He chuckles. “Makes my dick shiny. When are you getting home to make my dick shiny?

   “My God.” You coughed, look out at the crowd hoping no one can even imagine what your lover is drunkenly murmuring in your ear.

“You said it was going to be quick. I thought I shouldn’t say anything. But I need it now. Can you get home and wet it for me like you do- sloppy and real good?"

“Y/N.”

   A gasp tore threw you, you forgot you were anywhere, doing anything besides being on the phone with Bucky, hearing your name you quickly pulled the phone away from your ear and tried to blink away the wide eyed whorish gaze you had to be sporting. “Yea - yes!”

   It’s Destiny, looking just as good as when she stepped into the club over 2 hours ago. Her pink glittered eyeshadow look is still in place and her bold dark lip first thing you zero in on. “We’re ordering our last round after Jen comes from outside with that biker, hurry up!” 

 Okay, you mouthed and nodded until she went away because she lingered worried by the look on your face. “Jesus Christ Buck, I almost got caught. You cannot ju- oh my - Oh my God, are are you- ?” You stammer for full words and still never find them. No way he was.

   “It doesn’t feel good.” He spits out. But you can hear it vibrating. It’s his cock ring and with no mistake, it's his dick going in and out of the fleshlight similarly toned to your skin that’s making that sound. The one that’s making you tighten your legs like something will fall out. With the way your clit is throbbing, it just may.

   “It’s nothing like yours.” His stuttering breath stalls for a minute and you can see him, clear as day in your head, fucking it. His biceps and triceps flexing as he brought it forward and back trying to get his orgasm. “I put lube, I put so much fucking lube but it’s not as wet - how do you get so wet?”

   You see a familiar flash of metallic fabric float through the crowd and know Jen’s finally found her way off that biker's dick. “I’m on the last round and then I’ll be right there-”

   “You should’ve fucked me before you left!" He grumbled angrily. “Now I need you and you’re so so far away from me.”

   “I’m not far. Bucky, I promise. It’s a 20 minute Uber and then I’m right there for you-”

   “I need you so bad.” He whines. “You’ll fuck good me when you get home, right?”

   “Like always. Buck.” You know you’re running out of time til you’re dragged from safety because you look over to the bar and the girls are turning their heads left and right looking for you.

   “I want you on the fucking dining room table. Can I fuck you on the dining room table - you never let me. Worry wart, always worryin' we'll break it. Let me one time, I’ll fill you up - won’t let it go to waste.” He stops and you can tell a lightbulb has gone off in his drunken hazed mind. “Let’s make a baby tonight - have my babies. I’m - wanna fuck my kids into you. When you're pregnant we won’t have to worry anymore - stupid condoms. I can just keep making you fuller and fuller and fuller and when your fucking pussy tries to spit it out I’ll make her take it - I swear to God. You’ll take it? All night? Please, I need you all night. You say you can’t take it for that long but I know you can.”

   You feel yourself leak, your juices soak right into the hot pink thong you wore to avoid worries of a showing panty line. It’s like a fucking pipe bursts in your underwear and you hope, you truly hope the girls have run out of party because you’d hate to be that girl tonight. That my boyfriend girl, rushing out on a fun night to cuddle up under her man but holy shit, Bucky was promising fun the girls couldn’t get you tonight if they tried.

    “You say it’s too much but you sit on my cock and you do that thing, you do all of this shit to me - you say I make you take it but you fuck me back and you fuck me for hours. Are you tired? Can you fuck me like that - tonight? Tire out my cock tonight, please? He needs you.”

   “James-”

   “Y/N, come on!”

"Please baby?"

Fuck. How many fucking please’s would he fit into this phone call?

   “Baby boy, I have to - I have to go. It’s the last round.”

   “You didn’t send me any pictures? How pretty you look all the time, I know you look good. Your titties sit so pretty in the dress, so fucking pretty and when you fuck me they jump up and they sit so pretty in my hands. They belong with me. Why aren’t you here with me?” He complains, and you somehow hear the pout.

   “Bucky, I have to go.” Because if you didn't you'd run home, if you didn't you'd find a stall and find yourself on the Sex Offender’s Registry trying to get yourself off to the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

   “You promised.” He sucked his teeth.

   “I know, I do promise. As soon as I get home, baby. Soon.”

....

Walking into your apartment felt like you were going to be the first to die in a horror movie. Your heart beat was rapid, you were wide eyes and scared and you creeping into a pitch black room. You sent a quick text to the girls letting them know you got up okay and went on; inching in.

It was quiet, too quiet. Maybe he had fallen asleep, tired himself out, and you'd laid flat out on the bed. You kept your eyes peeled for any figure in the dark; if he was asleep you didn't want to wake him up with bright lights.

"You're late."

You slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your own scream. "Jesus Christ! Bucky, what the fuck!"

The room was bathed in light not a second later and there he was; naked as the day he was born spread all out and gift wrapped for you. "Took you 25 minutes. You said 20."

"We hit traffic a-and Lila was the first drop off it took all off us to just get her to the doorstep." You stuff your own piehole when you realized that man did not care. He did not care nor want to hear about whatever shades of gray had caused you to leave him wanting only the black and white of it all; you were late, he was aching.

"I'm sorry, I really am baby."

"Show me, show me how sorry you are or it's just bullshit." He sneered,

You toed your heels off and left a trail of clothes behind you as you approached him. You weren't sure what Bucky you'd be getting but now you're sure. The closer you get the more you the recognize the pleading in his eyes and the tale his shallow breaths tell yet he had the nerve to still be playing Mr. Tough Guy. You'd fix that.

"Now... is that how you talk to your doting girlfriend?" You pout teasingly as you stop a few feet from him with only your skimpy lingerie set still plastered to you. "Who left her party early to come tend to you."

Bucky gulped watching you, his eyes went half lidded. " You were late..."

"Late or never. Your choice." you shrugged and your titties bounced with the small movement and he dig his fingers into his palm painfully.

"Late. M'sorry, so sorry baby."

"You've got quite the mouth on you. I don't think i can let that slide. I think you know that. Lie down, Buck."

He scrambles, and you can't help but laugh. He’s less than putty in your hands right now. “What’s got you so worked up anyways, huh? Don’t I fuck you enough or are you just a spoiled brat?”

He’s itching with anticipation as he watches you climb atop him and as soon as you rest your weight on him, the heat of your cunt covering him, Buck is crying, bucking his hips.

He hisses, “I said I was sorry,” he hiccuped, “Let me have some please.”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Asking! Can you please—“

You lean over each of your arms on either side of his head and remove your weight from him before you plop right back down once, twice, three times — and Buck has you sitting on a puddle. There’s cum creating a filthy film between the two of you and you revel in it, the way Bucky goes limp having soaked himself with excitement.

“Talk to me the way you’d talk to him.”

   “Buck,” you sigh exasperated, “it’s not the same.”

   “Why not?”

   “Because!”

    “Because?” He asks, refusing to back down. He’s not letting this go, and he’s not letting you go back to that fucking… freak, who despite all of your best intentions doesn’t share the same awareness you do about your relationship with your boyfriend, or the care for it. 

    “Because you’re - you’re the guy I’m talking about when I talk about my boyfriend. I can’t pretend you’re not him and then tell you about yourself. That’s crazy.”

   “Is it?”

   “Yes.”

   “What are you telling him? Is it that bad?”

   “No!” You rush to answer. “No.” You repeat, more stern. Was your love a bit crazy? Yes. That didn’t mean that you didn’t assure him in his bouts of insanity. “I never tell him anything personal about us.” 

   “You’re personal. Everything about you is personal to me.” 

   “He has a girlfriend if you’ve forgotten. He’s in a relationship—“

“Does he know that—“

“Sometimes you and I get into tifts - small inconsequential things, stuff that someone in a relationship can understand, is all. That’s all it’ll ever be, all it’s ever been.”

    “I’m in a relationship. Wouldn’t I understand?”

   “Buck. Can you be serious?”

   “I can be a good friend. Can’t I?” He surges forward, unabashedly pursing his plan of wiping Malcolm off the face of your planet.

   “Good friends don’t sleep together,” you lightly push at his chest, “they don’t kiss and they’re not in love with each other.”

    “We don’t sleep together.” Buck says, matter of factly. You look at your boyfriend, utterly confused. “We don’t ever get around to the sleeping part.” He smirks. 

   “Oh my God—” You suck your teeth and attempt releasing yourself from him but he holds you close. 

   “I’m joking, I’m only joking, babygirl.” He soothes you, fastening you back around him the way you were. His hands curve around your back to push your chests closer then curling under your behind to settle you up just far enough on his upper thighs so he can stay warm in the right places. Then he forces himself to focus. 

   “He likes you. Your friend, Mike.”

“—Malcolm.”

   “Whatever. He likes you and I… dont like that.” Your perfect lips start to form a word and Buck meets you there. “Don’t go asking me how I know. I know. I know that look in his eyes, it’s the way I used to look at you.”

   “Used to?” Your voice shakes. You’re not proud of it but you’re human.

   “Used to. There’s a fine line between people that want it and people that have it.”

   “Yeah?” Your smirk that matches your boyfriends is now painting your lips. A trick you're not sure how he’s mastered, always managing to rope you into his shenanigans. 

 The brute brunette was a contradiction in and of itself; too sweet to tell you that he couldn’t stay over to bake cookies with you because he has to be up at five in the morning but so intimidating that people moved out of his way with the quickness at the grocery store.

He was the sweetest, most adorable baby while being the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You wanted to cuddle him, kiss him - squeeze his wittle cheeks, have him between both pairs of yours. He was perfection, your dream man squeezed out of a bottle.

Instinct told you to give it up, give everything up for him. You’ve had a crush before, you’ve been normal about a crush before so what the fuck was it that was making you crawl out of your skin? It was juvenile — maybe, you hadn’t worked out the kinks yet — he was as gentle as they came but only for you.

Bucky Barnes in 2C is no regular guy. He’s a build your own Arnold Schwarzenegger, completely ripped and incredibly buff. He had to shuffle in your apartment sideways, got himself a special door made so he didn’t have to do the same at his place. He was huge, with delicacy as his specialty.

It made you crazy for him; how gently he touched you as if he was afraid to bruise you, always soft-spoken but gruff in his tone, he was a gentle giant. A gentle giant, but you wanted him to be your gentle giant, and that he wasn’t, not yet anyway.

You and Bucky have been hovering in this weird place in your relationship. More than neighbors, because just neighbors don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms that frequently, don’t look in each other’s eyes like they can find galaxies there. Definitely not dating or committed officially, because he hadn’t asked and you hadn’t either, hadn’t even kissed yet. You were stuck.

Sue you, yes what you were about to do was childish, a little too high school for your taste. Desperate times call for desperate measures and you? Eating desperation for breakfast wasn’t filling.

The competition card was burning a hole in your pocket, it was about time you used it. Relying on his jealousy to sprout wings and fly when you mention another man’s name then consequently have your neighbor wildly devour you in a jealous, possessive frenzy or however those Erotica books say it goes.

“Doll - Y/N, you alright in there?” You hear your soon to be victim call from the living room.

That was another thing that drove you nuts, that damn nickname that would be the death of you. Doll. The first time he called you that, you almost passed out. It was one late night and you went to visit Bucky because you couldn’t sleep and he answered the door shirtless, his blue eyes dipped low, exhaustion in his tone. He should’ve been charged for attempted murder that night.

The weakness in your knees is still so vivid. Since then he’s let it slip out a few times then he always backtracks, calling you by your name instead. As if he thought he wasn’t allowed, little did he know there wasn’t much you wouldn’t let him call you.

“Yeah, I’m coming, one sec!” You give yourself one more look in the mirror before shaking your head, you got this.

You head back into the living room plopping down next to Bucky trying to avoid looking his way. He’s decided to take a break from haircuts, his shaggy hair has been tied back into man buns lately - something too sexy to handle at times, like now. Then he was sitting down with his thick thighs spread far apart with his arm hung over the back of the chair. It was enough to make you back off, which is why you looked only toward the home screen of Netflix on your TV.

“Hey,” Your chin goes nestled in his grasp. “You okay?”

The warmth of his huge hand against your face, the low timbre of his voice, and the concerned look in his blue eyes almost takes you out. “Yeah.” You squeak.

Bucky gives you a weird look, lifting your chin to look deeper into your eyes then gives you a look that says he isn’t buying it and you better spill. You sigh; no time like the present I guess. Looking at his face, the way his bushy brows are furrowed worriedly you start to lose the nerve. He was too sweet for you to be starting mess with him.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really.”

Absentmindedly, Bucky starts to caress the side of your face with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, just need to make sure you’re okay.” He explains.

Now you start to feel bad, how could you think of purposely trying to rile up such a kind soul? “It’s nothin’, I swear Buck. Just stupid work stuff.”

He nods. “Oh… well do you want to talk about it? I probably won’t understand the in and outs of the office stuff but I can understand how you feel.”

Your heartbeat stutters. Hard.

Of course, he wanted to listen, try and understand the paperwork and formality mumbo jumbo, stuff he couldn’t care less about just to be good to you. You’re sure now, the plan was finished. You were going to enjoy a calm and fun night with the world’s most perfect, Vibranium armed man, no if ands or buts.

“No, it’ll sort itself out. Just wanna have fun with you.” You say in hopes it’ll finish off any worries he might still have. You lean forward and shyly place a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for offering to listen.” You smile at him.

You don’t notice but Bucky swallows harshly and his eyes widen in surprise. That was the first time either one of you put your lips on each other, by the Grace of God it wouldn’t be the last.

“ ‘Course.” Is all he can choke out in response.

Everything is right with the world again briefly, until you your phone starts to ring; loud and shrill inside your bag making you and Bucky look away from each other.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. That’s my work phone, I forgot to turn it off.”

“It’s okay. You should get it, maybe it’s that stuff sorting itself out.”

You hum, “Maybe it is. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.” You tell him before diving off the couch to the end table grabbing your bag and rustling around, finally fishing out your work phone.

“Hello?” You greet the unsaved number putting them on speaker leaning into Bucky’s side.

“Hello, Miss Y/N?”

You crinkle your nose at the deep voice on the other end of the line. “Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s Jeremy, from the office - the new hire. The secretary gave me your number and told me to call if I had any questions.”

“Oh Jeremy, hello! I’d love to answer your questions but it is after office hours I don’t want you to make this a habit.”

“I know! I hoped this would be okay, this isn’t a work related question.”

“Okay… Go ahead.” You shrug your shoulders at Bucky and he shrugs in response, intrigued.

“My dad picked me up at the same time you were leaving the office and he saw you and went crazy. He wanted to know if you were single, if he could have your number?”

You feel Bucky stiffen next to you, and there’s a shallow breath you’re holding. You want to reach and take him off of speaker but that’ll make Bucky suspicious, or angrier - is he angry? You’re not sure because you’re too scared to look over your shoulder at him.

“I just - is this inappropriate? It’s just the guys kind of wanted to know your relationship status - by the guys I meant all of us, not just me! We just think you’re pretty, Ms. Y/N. God- this… this is bad, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-“

“Jeremy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m out with friends right now, can we handle this tomorrow?”

“Handle? Oh GOD, you’re going to fire me, aren’t you? Oh for fucks sake- I mean excuse me! I need this job, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Please my family will stone me to death, Ms. Y/N. PLEASE—“

“Jeremy! Please,” you giggle despite the situation, “Would you relax? We’ll talk tomorrow , right now’s just not a great time, alright?

“O-okay. I’ll be there tomorrow. Bright and early, because I love my job and I’m really grateful for it and all of my forgiving superiors.”

“Jeremy, lets get off the phone now, please.”

“Yes ma’am, goodnight!”

You immediately turn to Bucky to apologize for what could only be a punishment directly handed to you from God himself but he’s turned away from you staring intensely at the TV. “Buck, I don’t know what that was. I’m so sorry, Jeremy’s just a kid. He’s got an int-“

“It’s fine, nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you off stiffly.

You frown, as you observe his stand-off-ish behavior. Bucky…” He ignores you, his hand is gripping the remote strongly, blue veins popping out against his pale hand. “Bucky?” You can’t pinpoint how he’s feeling, angry, jealous? The look on his face is hard to decipher, his eyes are distant and his jaw is locked. “Buck?” You try again softly.

   “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re a grown woman,” he whispers angrily, “who can make her own decisions, and if you feel like Jeremy’s dad is the one.” There’s venom dripping from his words and you flinch at seeing him so angry. “Then I’m happy for you—“

   You’re climbing into his lap, arms around his shoulders burying your face in his neck just before you can even he can finish, before you can even have a sound thought regarding the mile you’re taking when you haven’t even figured what the inch means.

“He’s nobody. He’s only a kid,”You continue as you settle into his lap, straddling his thighs, guiding his hands to place them where you feel they belong because he’s not moving - half still pissed out of his mind - half internally glitching from having you so close this way. Either way, you’ve fried his brain for the time being.

   “He’s just a kid and his dad, I’ve never met him, he’s probably just some old guy with a hard-on ‘cause of my pencil skirt.”

   “You don’t have to.” Bucky starts looking away because he’s embarrassed at what you might see in his eyes - how angry he is, the sheer irritation some kid can make rise up in him in just a few minutes. 

   “I want to.” You say turning his head back to you forcing him to look into your eyes. “I need to. He’s not anybody okay? You are, you’re somebody - he’s not. Don’t, just don’t pay him any mind. Forget whatever he just said.”

   The bashful look he’s giving you, and the blush spreading across his cheeks makes your heart palpitate. “I’m somebody…?”

   “Of course you are.” You groan throwing your head back, “GOD Buck, of course you’re somebody. I mean, I want you to be.” You confess lowly putting your forehead against your chest, your fingers curling into the hem of his t-shirt. “I really fucking want you to be okay with being somebody to me.”

   “What do you need me to be? What do you want?” A groan burrows in Bucky’s throat - from frustration, from need. At this point he’s not sure how he’s survived this long, the feeling of you against him, on his skin, saying things like ‘I want you’ it was orgasmic to him, has his nerves fraying.

   “Will you just—“ Another frustrated groan erupts as you press your head harder against his chest, “Just tell me. Are we a thing? Am I just a layover between missions or what? You’re driving me fucking nuts, James.”

   “You?” Bucky laughs, “I’m driving you nuts? Have you fuckin’ seen you? That thing you do when you’re sleepy - that,” He nods towards your fingers in his shirt. “Do you know what it’s like to not be able t — layover? What the hell are you talking about?”

   You shrug. “I don’t know. I want you and it feels like you do too except when you don’t.”

   “I never don’t.” He rushes. “ I never don’t want you.”

   “So why don’t you just have me?”

   He pauses, giving the first break in the conversation between you two in a hot minute. “Sam says I’m a pussy.”

   You laugh, leaning back, uncurling your hands from the end of his t-shirt just to ball it up in your fist anxiously. “I’ve never asked a guy out before. You make me want to, really want to. Would you say yes?”

“You don’t have to. I’m gonna get there. I’m just — It’s just not perfect yet. Are you kidding me? Course I would fucking say yes, you deserve something perfect but I — fuck!” He huffs throwing his head back over the couch. “You make me feel like a kid Y/N.”

   “Huh?” Your face scrunches in confusion. “How?”

   “I’m in this constant state of awe with everything you do, it makes me feel like a kid again. Everything with you feels like magic and I — it makes me stupid. I can’t think, I forget all my words.” He runs his large palms over his face, frustrated. “I forget how to be normal.”

    Your stomach is lurching, back and forth, up and down completely in disarray from his words. You should be used to that given how constant it is but it’s too nauseating a feeling almost. One second your feet are on the floor then next you feel like you’re hanging upside down and your stomach is inside out. “You’re the fucking magic, Bucky.” You whisper. Again, you’re snuggling into his neck, wasting this closeness feels illegal, immoral. “You make me feel like magic.” You whisper breathily against his earlobe.

   His grip is strengthening on your hip in response, his breath hitching. “I don’t want someone else to have you.” He admits burrowing his head in your hair, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt to rub your back. “It would kill me.”

   “I don’t want to be had by anyone else. I don’t wanna kill you.”

   “I’m,” He pauses, “I’m not good with words, I always say the wrong thing.”

   “You never say anything, how could you say the wrong thing? Nothing about how you feel could ever be wrong.”

   “Whatever I say it could be bad timing, you could take it the wrong way, I could hit a nerve. How do I say—“ He leans back nudges your forehead with his making you look up at him. “I don’t know how to say it. Can I,” His hand slips underneath the strap of your bra, pushing against your back to bring you closer, and he finally, at last decides to take what you’re giving him and run with it.

   “Let me show you. I’ve got to show you.”

You’re nodding, bobble head like at whatever he says, whatever words are coming out his mouth that you can’t hear because you don’t care.

   “Show me please, you can — you can show me. Bucky please show me—“ Buck surges forward and causes a rough clash of you and he — lips first, all soft flesh melding to one another’s needs then harsh bone; teeth clashing and trapping pliable skin because you and Buck are gone.

His hands are grabbing, fisting things instead of their usual caress and warm lingering — ripping your shirt over your head and discarding it. His suddenly very nimble fingers fiddle with your bra clasp for a second at most until the sound of torn fabric ripples into the air and the only reason you’re gasping is not the $40 bra that’s gone but the calloused hand that’s pinching your nipple without remorse.

“I’ll pay for that.” He lets out before he latches onto your pebbled peak and curses come flowing out of your mouth like a river.

Buck is taking care of you — he’s only got two hands and he’s using them the way God intended. But you need something between your legs to move or you’ll implode. The first buck of your hips tears a moan out of you that he can’t help but to mirror as his erection gets painfully harder at the sound.

“Go ahead, keep going, ride it out pretty girl. Put that pussy all over me.”

Everything is a stutter or half word — you can’t get anything out. You just keep taking everything in; Bucky’s sucking your nipples then he’s letting his teeth graze them, a perfected mix of the pulling and twisting of the other that has you mewling like a cat in heat and you know that nosy old woman is going to ask if you recently got a goddamn cat.

“Play with that pussy for me baby. Can you do that? Show me what I’ve been missing.”

You’ve never unbuttoned your jeans so fast in your life —pushed aside your panties so hard. “Atta girl, I’ve been missing out on you baby. She laughing at me? What kind of fool misses a chance with you?” he staples his lips to your neck; sucking and biting. “Always fuck her just like that?”

Was this him? The man you were sitting cuddling with not even twenty minutes ago? It couldn’t be because he wouldn’t slobber all over you like some wild animal while listening to your pussy squelch and talk like this.

“You can do better than that,” he hooks his arm under your leg, “Let her talk, come on, talk to me, let it out, let it all out.” He coos and you’re fucking done with it all, you flood like a broken damn and Buck couldn’t be less overwhelmed at the excess, his eyes danced as he watches you coat his lap. He reaches for your hand and —

Bucky reaches for your hand and presses them to his lips before he glides his tongue over and between your fingers, takes each one in his mouth and pops it out like a cherry when he’s sucked them clean.

Aaron Hotchener was to say the least - intentional. With gazes, with touches, words both said and unsaid. He even played the pauses he took right into his hands.

It wasn’t unforeseen that he’d be just as intent driven with this — with you. When it came to; a midnight rendezvous that took him away from the dreariness of the day; the comfort after a case gone sour, the sad reminders of Haley in Jack’s eyes pieces of his late wife that he was trying to nurture and protect. You were heaven, for the nights you’d let him have you and vice versa.

He knew you but you were still a mystery. He was throwing caution to the wind — in his own unique way by allowing himself you but he could not afford the luxury of carelessness. So yes, he knew who you were on paper; your mother and father, sibling, aunts, uncles and cousins, even family friends and coworkers. That — that was for safety’s sake — but this; allowing your weight to ground him the sofa with his fingers in your hair was pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure and the night had only just begun.

“Aaron, we-“

“Have all the goddamn time in the world.”

A lie. A harsh one. Time and time again, you two both found out in every but a soft one that time was one of the things neither of you could offer one another, but he was intentional; the time you do have is yours.

“It’s already late. You have—“

“— you, here with me and I won’t waste it.” He’s light on his feet and grinning like a fool tonight. It washes off on you instantly.

“You sigh as you pull back and look into his eyes. There’s a glint that flickers even in the dark, he’s mischievous. “You never waste it. Gluttony’s a sin you know.”

He smiles, as he finds his entertainment; a rhythmic beginning of what would no doubt be a strenuous love making session; gentle but sturdy hands wrapped around your back, chapped lips peppered against your collarbone and across your chest.

“Hotch—“ A harsh grip on your backside made you gasp though the smile never left your lips. “Aaron.” You giggle. “Don’t dillydally.”

It turns out the saying is true; the third time is the charm. 

You’ve already woken up twice this morning just as groggy as you are now but Buck is missing this time and that seems to get you up quicker than the sun beaming in from your bedroom windows, your pounding headache, or your uneasy stomach.

Thanks to him, your first waking was the quickest in and out you've ever had. His warm and damn demanding tone played like a lullaby. When you began coming to, daring to lift your head from his chest it was a personal offense to him. He murmured a hard command that left no room for discussion, much less argument, back to sleep. His velvety voice in your ear coupled with the warmth of his chest against yours and the ironclad hold of his thick arm was all too good a comfort to dismiss so you fell back into the pillows with a thump.

The second was again, all his fault. You were ready to get up and face the day but Bucky was beside you placing water, Tylenol, and a croissant by your night table for when you woke up yet still he’d thought it was too early for you to be awake given last night’s events. Cupping his hand against your jaw he whispered I know you’re still sleepy, honey. Go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up. You don't know how he managed it, such a heavy influence over a grown woman with a will of her own supposedly bunkered in sheets that smelled of her boyfriend - fling - thing –  neighbor - man, knocked out in seconds, again.

The third time, it was the universe pulling you out of bed because enough was enough. You rolled out of bed naked as the day you were born, foolishly pulled the sheets and duvet off of your bed in a royal tug of war, wrapped them around you, and made your way towards the clatter you heard in the living area. As soon as you saw him; so largely out of place and shirtless in your kitchen, you bowed your head in disgrace. Last night came crashing into you and your headache intensified tenfold while the embarrassment nearly swallowed you whole. 

“How you feeling pretty girl?”

You stalled your gaze on the mug he placed in front of you as you sat down and watched the ripples in the piping-hot liquid like it was daytime television. You gave a tight smile and a thumbs up from underneath your cloaks and Buck sighed. “You plan on acting off all day?”

  “M’not.” You mumbled childishly.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You frowned, Bucky shot you a look and retreated but you blew out a harsh breath and pushed the cover off of your head, “I know what you’re thinking…"

“What’s that?”

“That I’m a dirty little slut.” Bucky tries to hide the chuckle but it comes out as brazen as if he never had.

“That so?”

“I was so disgusting last night. I was slightly tipsy and I - I - you had been gone for a couple days and I missed you and I completely lost my mind-”

“Remember what I said last night?” A better question would've been do you remember anything from last night but alas you had already blown your cover - there was nothing from last night that you didn't remember. The problem was Buck had said so much.

“It made you cum on my face, the first and fourth time.”

You were suffering from an alcohol-induced need. With Buck so willing to give you everything, you didn’t feel bad wanting it as badly as you did. You only felt slightly lousy for trying to suffocate him. “S’too much for you.” You warned softly as he pulled you down.

“Not enough.” You would have thought it was Bucky who finished off a bottle of Tequila with the slur of his speech, would have thought it was Buck who was slicking up his underwear by the liter with every passing second the way he moved with dangerous urgency. Not you - who despite the lusty haze in her eyes was moving cautiously. In mere moments, your neighbor, turned crush turned lover? - was nuzzling against you with catlike motions nearly drooling. “C’mon, toots please.” He groaned and it broke you in just the right places. Your legs cracked open.

 You cleared your throat, “Are you home all day? No plans?” You lifted the cup to your lips and closed your eyes tightly as you let the steam rise.

“If arguing with you is a plan, I’m up to my ass in busy.”

“What if we just restarted? This entire conversation, let’s just start all over.”

“Yeah.” You let out a sigh of relief, “You plan on forgetting fucking my face too or-”

“WHY DO YOU - why do you always have to say stuff like that? ” You shrieked, ditched your tea, and buried your head in your hands.

“I could ask you the same goddamn thing. You can be as embarrassed as you wanna be, don’t change much.” He shrugged,

“You are so -” you searched frustratedly, “you're an asshole, honestly."

Bucky howled, obviosuly tickled. He kissed his teeth as he rounded the table to your side - immediately ditching personal space, a personal favorite pastime of his -  and plopped himself right in your face.

“You don’t know how good it feels giving you what you want. This isn’t any different from late nights Baskin Robbins runs-”

“I-!”

Buck covered your mouth with his hand - a comfortingly large and warm hand which you were not focusing on right now because he was muzzling you, “You want to fuck my face? Promise to God I won’t be the one to stop you. You want to ride me until you’re ready to stop? You won’t ever see me complaining. I’m here to give you what you need baby, it’s only your job to take it.”

You blinked hard and plenty, and flicked up an eyebrows, to ask for permission to speak.

Something is wrong with you. Something’s been wrong with you. There's a rapid boiling trapped underneath your skin, but you can't reach or scratch it. It's intangible and unexplainable. You aren't sure when it started. Yesterday? Maybe the day before? Who knows. The only known is that your lover has been paying for it.

“You’re late.” You remark as you stand with your arms crossed over your chest tightly, watching him sourly as he comes through the door. One of his corduroy-covered arms was wrapped underneath a brown paper bag, the other occupied with his keys.

“I know.” He sighed apologetically. “Long line at the market, longer than I thought it'd be.” He passed by you with a quick kiss to your forehead before as he went every which way; in and out of rooms while you stood frigid. He managed putting his jacket and shoes away, looking for his phone and finding it in the paper bag he placed down before you sniped at him.

“You could’ve called me.”

“I didn’t think to, baby. I’m sorry about that.”

“Why wouldn’t you think to call me? I call you when I’m going to be late.”

“I’m not hours late,” he chuckled, “only ten minutes or so.”

“That’s not the point!”

Steve stopped all her was doing and turned fully to you. “You haven’t said hello to me yet. Haven’t greeted me at all.”

“Yeah, well you—“

“When I come in that door,” he pointed behind you, “I greet you. Whether I’m late or not.”

“Maybe I would if-“

“Why don’t you greet me?" He offered softly. "It’s what I do for you. Even when I’ve had a bad day.”

“Hi, Steve,” you groaned, “Hi! Is that good enough for you?”

Steve shrugged, turned his back to you and brought his bag from the living room to the kitchen. You followed after him nearly tripping on his heels from the chase, complaining, bitching, and nagging. He wasn’t phased, didn’t even blink or bat an eye while you called yourself setting him straight.

You were met with complete silence, continuing to no avail. You talked at Steve until it was apparent your conversation was one-sided, though it's intended audience was within arms reach. You talked until you lost your energy for it, til' you just wanted to hear him say something, anything.

“Steve, are you even hearing me?” You asked, softly. "You listenin'?"

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” You hissed, softness gone but still not as venomous as before. Just desperate.

Steve hummed, unbusied his hands and brought himself nose to nose with you. “What do we say to each other when we walk in the door?”

“… we greet each other. We say hi.” You blinked. “Hi.” You mumbled and suddenly found yourself shy, avoiding his gaze. He refocused it, lifting your chin sternly.

“Do I talk to you like you’re a child? Like I want you to feel small?”

You shook your head immediately. “I was n—“ you stopped, something about his look, the look in his eyes wasn’t really encouraging you to continue, “I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I shouldn’t have.”

“Do I make you read my mind? Or do I tell you when something's wrong?”

You took a shallow breath. “I dunno.” You shrugged, pouting. “I really don’t know what’s the matter," you muttered dangerously close to crying.