Icarus Falling
(Part 2)
Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader
Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.
Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.
Part one ⬇️:
A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3
———————
Bold is reader’s thoughts.
Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.
The size of the tattoo is in inches.
———————
Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?
Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.
The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.
The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.
“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.
“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.
“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.
“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.
Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.
Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.
“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.
“Why’s that?”
Fuucckkkk.
“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.
“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.
Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.
“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.
Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.
“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.
Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.
To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.
“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”
“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.
“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.
“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.
“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.
“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“
“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.
“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.
“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.
“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”
You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.
He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.
“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.
“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.
“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”
“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.
“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.
“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.
“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.
“I’m good I swear, now go!”
“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.
Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.
James:
Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?
Send me the address to the shop
Now… please
Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.
You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.
James:
See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.
Little shit.
————
You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.
Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.
Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.
Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.
“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.
“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.
Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.
“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.
“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”
“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.
“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.
“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”
His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.
“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.
“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.
“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.
“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”
“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.
“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.
“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.
“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.
“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”
“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.
Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.
“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.
“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”
Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.
Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.
The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.
If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.
He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.
You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.
He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.
“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.
“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”
Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.
“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.
“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.
Christ alive.
“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.
“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.
“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.
“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”
Like I could regret you.
You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.
“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.
You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.
“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.
“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.
I like him. He says okie dokie.
“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.
You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.
“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.
“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”
“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.
“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.
“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.
“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.
————
You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.
“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.
“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.
“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.
God he’s pretty.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.
“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.
“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.
“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.
“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”
“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.
————
The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.
“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”
“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.
He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.
You sat in silence as he started to speak.
“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.
The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”
Silence.
“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”
A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-
“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.
“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.
This should not be turning me on, shit.
“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”
His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?
“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”
Oh Clint sounds fun.
“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”
He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.
“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.
“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.
“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.
“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.
“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.
“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.
Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.
Ok right back to it. Got it boss.
“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.
“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.
Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.
“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.
He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”
“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.
“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.
“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”
“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.
“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.
“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.
Shit.
“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.
“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.
“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.
“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.
“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.
He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.
“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.
“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.
That’s a new one.
“Uh, say $180?” You respond.
“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.
He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”
You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.
They were hundreds.
“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.
“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.
You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”
“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.
“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”
“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.
“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.
“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”
There it is.
“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.
“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.
“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.
“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.
Fuck me running.
“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.
He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.
“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.
“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.
You say nothing.
He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.
“Would you?” He asks softly.
“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.
“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.
“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.
He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.
Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.
His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.
Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.
“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.
“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.
He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.
Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.
————
A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘
I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.
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Ok so this might be an odd request but I’ve been really sad about the fact that the network vetoed bisexual Reid so I was wondering if you could write boyfriend Spencer coming out to reader and just having it be really sweet and fluffy??
this is the cutest. great minds are bisexual reid truthers. i am honored to do this for the tumblr community and the world at large
warnings/tags: potentially VERY slight internalized homophobia from spencer if u squintttt but he's just nervous that's all!! my boyfriend has never done anything wrong in his life!! fem reader
“My type is you,” you say sweetly, angling your head up to look at your boyfriend. The two of you have been laying on the couch for the better part of an evening, (more accurately, he’s on the couch, you’re on him) talking about nothing and everything. Somehow the conversation has meandered to this—him asking you what your type in men is, of all things.
“What a convenient answer,” Spencer teases, pushing your hair away from your face. You laugh, leaning into the warmth of his touch.
“I mean it! I don’t think I ever really got what all the excitement was about men until I met you.”
He hums, a satisfied little smile on his face. “That’s very flattering.”
“What about you?”
His brows dart up.
“What’s my type in men?”
An inadvertent laugh bubbles from your throat—slowly going stale in the air while you watch as Spencer actually flushes. It dawns on you with a splash of anxiety and a generous helping of guilt that maybe it’s not exactly a joke to him. You attempt to play it off casually, keeping your tone even but receptive.
“Well, I meant in women. But, if you have a type in men, by all means, tell me.”
Hazel eyes dart between yours as his hand continues carding through your hair—and then he’s looking away, studying the wall behind you like there’s more there than faded green paint.
Silences stretches as you chew on the inside of your cheek, worried you’ve somehow said the wrong thing. You wriggle higher up his body and gently grab his wrist, interrupting what you suspect is a self-soothing motion.
“Hey,” you murmur, pulling his hand to your lips and pressing them to his knuckles. “Come back.”
Finally he looks at you again, mildly surprised like you’d tugged him from the very depths of his thoughts. But his eyes are soft, grazing his his fingers over your lips.
“I’m right here.”
“You know what I mean.” The words are gentle. His thumb catches on your bottom lip and you nip at it playfully, trying to lighten his suddenly heavy mood. It’s hard to tell if it works—he continues tracing your lips absentmindedly, biting his own. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and wavers ever so slightly, the way it does in the rare instance that he’s not 100% sure of himself or what he’s talking about.
“I was thinking about your question.” You don’t dare speak for fear opening your mouth will somehow break whatever self-hypnosis is keeping him honest. “I don’t have a specific type. In women. Or… or men.”
His voice is so fragile that you have to run it back in your mind a few times to process what he’d said. Several layers of clothing do nothing to dull the rapid drumming of his heartbeat against your chest. And your poor boyfriend looks so scared during the moment of silence while you’re thinking that it breaks your heart. He needs a sign, something to reassure him that it’s okay, before he backtracks and dissociates entirely. Delicately your hand slides up the side of his neck and jaw. You crane your neck to press a long kiss to his flushed cheek. It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re okay. The world is still turning. His chest rises and falls slowly in a deep, silent sigh.
“I love you,” you remind him once you pull away, wiping away the slight sheen of chapstick your kiss had left. He catches your hand, wrapping it in his larger one. The guarded look in his eye does a poor job of concealing how badly he wants to please you, and everyone, and how scared he is that maybe this was the wrong answer. That maybe this is just another way he is not quite right, and you’ll tell him so, just like everyone else always has.
“You’re not—you don’t have anything to say?”
Gentle fingers brush away invisible tears under his eyes, sweeping over the skin with the utmost care. He’s not crying, but you imagine at one point or another he had, and since you weren’t there to wipe away the tears then, maybe you can make up for it by being here now.
“Is it something you want to talk about?” you ask, fingers still skimming over the angular plane and valley of his cheek. The darting of his eyes between yours, the slight furrow of his brow, the pressed-together lips—he’s profiling you. Trying to extract your thoughts through osmosis.
“I… I’ve never told anyone before.”
Your stomach twists. You hate that there’s any part of him he feels he has to hide—and that he’s done it for so long.
“Well I’m glad you told me, angel.”
His eyes are like warm honey as he looks up at you, dulling that sharp, defensive edge as the endearment slips past your lips. Usually it’s the other way around, and you hope it soothes him even half as much as it always does for you.
A surprised laugh is expelled from your lungs when he pulls you down into a crushing hug. Immediately, gleefully, you reciprocate, pushing your arms under his waist and tangling your legs with his, holding on ferociously and for dear life. His face is buried in the hollow of your neck, so you have to assume that much like you, he’s picked this over oxygen.
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he breathes, lips brushing your neck and hair. Muffled, because there’s no space between you. Your eyes sting and tear up almost immediately. A joke forms on the tip of your tongue; low bar? But you bite it back, unsure if you can manage persuasive sarcasm in this moment. “And, for the record, you are the most beautiful human being I have ever met in my life. Nobody else has or will ever come close.”
You laugh tearfully into his collar. “Spencer, I’m not worried about that.”
“I know you’re not,” he says, finally coming up for air. You do the same, laying on his shoulder contentedly and looking into his eyes. “But I’m telling you anyway because it’s true and I want you to hear it.”
A contemplative moment passes, and you wonder how it’s possible to be falling even more in love with him. You’d thought you already loved him as much as any human being had ever been capable of doing. You hope love has no end. You hope you keep falling deeper and deeper forever.
“You should know something,” you say, looking down to toy with the collar of his shirt. He hums.
“What should I know, angel girl?”
“You should know that I’m still going to fight anyone who tries to flirt with you. I don’t care if it’s a six five body builder or a seventy year old woman with a walker. You’re gonna have to hold me back.”
A bemused smile tugs at his lips.
“You would physically fight an elderly woman?”
“Or a six five body builder,” you agree. Spencer faces the ceiling like he’s watching the scene play out.
“Okay,” he snorts. “I don’t love that, but okay.”
“It’s what you signed up for,” you mumble, snuggling back into him. His hand finds the back of your head and tangles comfortably in your hair once more.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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Poor, naive, Marcus
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
Summary: Joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the QZ, and you're his little bunny everyone knows better than to look at, but when Marcus, one of his guys, breaks that rule, Joel decides to teach him a lesson.
Warnings: I'm not gonna lie, this is 2.8 k of porn so... violence, smut | very very much exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, and of course lots of daddy-kink, praising, and pet naming
a/n: This is self-indulgence at its core, you guys don't understand how much I love them
Btw this is kind of a part 2 to this
He was drunk enough not to realize what he was doing, or drunk enough not to care at all.
His hands were roaming every inch of your body, groaning and painting as if just the feel of your skin was bringing him pleasure, which, truth be told, it probably was.
Your eyes were closed, but you didn't need to see to know people were staring, everyone was staring, whispering, gasping as they watched Marcus, oh poor Marcus, dance with you in the middle of the bar.
The people on the makeshift dancefloor had taken one, two, five steps away from you as if they sensed what was inevitably coming.
But Marcus, poor naive Marcus, he was too busy burying his face between your shoulder and neck to even notice.
"you smell so good" he groaned, forcing you flush against him and his evident bulge.
You couldn't help but chuckle.
Just one of the many advantages of being, or better, having been the boss' bunny.
"thank you" you whispered, playing with his long messy hair as he started kissing your neck as if his life depended on it.
"You like that?"
"yeah Marcus, you're doing good" You stifled a laugh, as he looked at you like a lost puppy
"O-ok" he nodded, "It's just that- you're very beautiful, and I-"
You only needed to smile to shut him up
"Marcus" you cooed "stop talking"
He nodded, again, and you returned to swaying your body to the music, his lips back on your skin.
You heard the people moving out of the way before you heard the door slam against the wall.
You shouldn't, you really shouldn't have, but the smile on your lips just really brought itself to life.
"What do you think you're doing?"
He wasn't talking to you.
Marcus, poor Marcus, looked like he was about to go number one, right there in front of everyone.
The quiet whispers that filled the smoky air just moments before had ceased,
even the music had stopped.
That's what he did.
The boss had arrived, and time had stopped.
You turned around, and there he was, in all his glory... he did look disheveled though, like he had run here, like you had interrupted something you were sure must have been very important.
But he wasn't looking at you, the primordial rage in his eyes was solely directed to the man next to you.
"You deaf? I asked you what the fuck you think you're doing" He took a step closer to him.
Joel wasn't that much taller than Marcus, but right now, hell, right now he looked seven feet tall, and ready to crush him with his bare hands.
"I-I"
"You what?" he gripped the collar of his shirt "What?" he spat, inching closer to his face.
"I didn't- I din-"
"I haven't even broken your yaw yet and you already can't talk" Joel snickered,
"Bunny, if you wanted to make me pay, you could have at least found yourself a man"
You had to bite your grin down,
No, you're still mad at him
"I didn't know you were together!" Marcus suddenly yelled.
Joel took his sweet time tearing his gaze off of you.
The skirt you chose, the same short, short one he had gifted you, had definitely been noticed.
"She-She told me you broke up. T-that it was over- "
"Did she, now?"
"Y-yes, Boss, I swear" he nodded vigorously "I would have never touched her if I'd-"
And just like that,
Marcus' words died in his throat once Joel had wrapped his big hands around it.
"N-no- pleas-e"
He was barely breathing, his eyes looking like they were ready to pop out of his skull.
"Joel" you breathed
He didn't budge, not of one inch.
His fingers stayed still around Marcus' neck
You sighed, stepping closer, close enough to place a hand on his shoulder, close enough to stand on your toes and reach your mouth just right to his ear.
"Daddy" you whispered "let him go"
And so he did.
A sigh of relief was breathed by everyone in the room, everyone except Marcus, who was currently coughing his way back to life.
Joel's dark eyes were trained on you now.
"EVERYONE OUT"
Bodies scurried out the door in less than ten seconds.
Marcus, oh poor Marcus, went to get away with them.
"not you" Joel didn't even need to glance at him to grab his forearm.
He stumbled backward, panic oozing off his every pore.
"B-boss"
"Shut the fuck up before I make you"
That's all he said, before he pushed him to the side like a piece of trash.
Marcus nearly knocked over a chair.
"Joe-" you tried, as he walked closer to you.
"You told him we broke up" he cut you off
"We did" you reminded him, with a tilt of your head
"I don't remember agreeing to that"
You scowled
"That's not how breaking up works"
"and why not?" he was close enough to move some hair out of your face, his poisonous touch lingering on your skin like a curse and a blessing altogether.
"because I'm not one of your men, Joel, I do what I want"
He chuckled at your words, the vibrations of his voice bouncing off the filthy walls.
"Oh trust me, bunny, I know" he spoke, his mouth inches from yours "I know"
"Well then you should also know that we're done"
He watched you for a moment longer, before turning to Marcus, who was staring from the corner.
"Did he touch you?" he asked, turning back
"I think you already know the answer to that"
"Did he kiss you?"
You stayed silent.
Not because the answer was yes, but because a part of you, if not all of you, enjoyed torturing him.
"did you?" he turned back to the terrified man "Did you kiss my girl?"
"n-no" he immediately spat "No Boss I would n-"
"Is he telling the truth?"
You bit your lip, watching his eyes fall to the motion.
"He kissed my neck"
And in a second, his gun was in his hand and he was stalking toward Marcus.
"Don't kill him"
"why not?"
"yeah please listen to he-" With the barrel of a gun to his temple, it seems talking didn't come as easy.
"I'd have all the reasons," he said "he touched you"
You looked at him, really looked at him.
"Don't" you told him, and of course, as always, he obeyed.
"Sit down" Joel ordered him, but he was shaking.
Time stilled as he pulled the trigger, the wall behind Marcus crumbling as a bullet flew right through it.
"sit down or the next one goes through your skull"
He didn't need to be told twice.
"the things I do for you, bunny" he shook his head, sighing as he walked back to you.
You let your gaze travel to Marcus. He was seated to your right, staring at you, begging, pleading you to do something.
Poor, naive Marcus, he really didn't know what he had gotten himself into.
Joel was watching you like you were a drug and he an addict in withdrawal.
"where?" he asked his voice dangerously low.
He was inches from you. He had never been good at keeping his distance, and you were backed up against one of the tables.
"where what?"
"where did he kiss you?"
"I already told you Joel," you said "My neck"
"here?" he breathed, his digit grazing the skin just below your ear
You shook your head
"lower?"
You nodded
"Here?" his finger was against your pulse
"lower" you could only whisper
"here" he bent down to murmur against your skin, before letting his lips do the rest.
He kissed you, and there it was... that electricity only he was capable of riling up in you.
"Joel..." you whimpered, as he grabbed your waist and started a slow trail of hot hot kisses up your neck.
he groaned, feeling the effect he was having on you.
"Now see Marcus" he spoke more loudly now in between kisses "That's where you went wrong... She likes it a lot more when you kiss her here" he smirked, kissing you below your ear "Ain't that right, bunny?"
You bit your lip, stifling your answer
"don't get shy now, bunny, tell him"
"I do" you surrendered, biting down a moan "I-I"
"I know sweetheart, I know" he cooed, his trail finally leaning towards your mouth "I know" he murmured a moment before kissing you.
His lips crashed with yours in a mess of moans and whimpers, as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth.
One of his hands was gripping your ass, undoubtedly hiking your skirt up enough for more of your skin to be showing, while his other hand was holding the back of your head and pushing you flush against him, leaving you no room to breathe.
"fuck bunny" he groaned "he kissed you like this?"
"no-no" you mumbled, reaching for his mouth again.
"And he touched you like this?"
You let out a gasp, as his hand made quick work of seeping into your panties.
"Did he?" he ghosted your mouth as two of his thick, oh-so-thick fingers slid between your folds, getting closer to your entrance.
"N-no he didn't"
He licked a stripe up your neck and whispered to your ear
"And who are you this wet for, bunny?" he teased, as his thumb found your clit "Did Marcus there do this?"
He bit your earlobe as he pushed two fingers inside, and what came out of your mouth was more a scream than a moan.
Both your arms flew to the back of his neck, holding for dear life.
"No!" you wined, as he started moving his digits in and out and curling them right into that spot he knew so well "It's all you daddy- all you" you promised, your voice so thin it was more of a whisper.
"hear that Marcus?" he asked the man to his right as if he wasn't two knuckles deep inside you
"I don't think he heard bunny" he murmured sultrily as his thumb started circling your bud "Tell him darlin', tell him how wet you are for me"
"Ah-I'm-I'm so wet daddy, I'm so so-" You had to shut your eyes and bite down your bottom lip as the feeling got to be too much.
"that's my good girl" he breathed, his fingers still working relentlessly "You comin' bunny, you gonna cum for me?"
You could feel your orgasm approach.
"mh-mh" you could only hum
"no no now" he tutted, grabbing your chin to have you look up at him "Use that pretty mouth of yours and answer me"
Your walls were squeezing his fingers and with each rut of his thumb against your clit a shock of electricity made its way up your spine.
Marcus was watching, you realized, as you opened your eyes. He was staring, knowing that he shouldn't have, but not being able not to.
"f-fuck" you moaned "I'm-god Daddy I'm coming!"
"that's better" he smirked "That's real good sweetheart" he breathed, watching you come apart "Now give it to me, come all over my fingers bunny"
And to that- to that you came, wailing and moaning like you were desperate, and screaming was the only way to make it better.
Your eyes were still closed as he retracted his fingers, and only when you heard a low humming, did you open them back up again.
He had his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them as if they were a lollipop.
"She's as sweet as honey Marcus" He looked at him " 's too bad you're never gonna get to taste her"
"is he bunny?" he asked, leaning into you again
"no"
"that's right" He grinned "now," he said, "what do you say we show Marcus what else he's never gonna get mh?"
"how 'bout we show him how you're all mine, and only I get to touch you?"
"yes" you could only whimper, as you nodded slowly, your brain a fuzzy mess.
"Yeah?"
"yes, daddy, please" you begged now, your hands raking down his chest until they reached the tent in his overused jeans.
"God bunny, you have no idea what you do to me" he groaned kissing the corner of your mouth.
"jump on the table"
You did so with no hesitation as he unfastened his belt and zipper in record time.
"You gonna be good for me now?" he asked, pulling his painfully hard cock out of his briefs "Gonna let me take care of you like you need to?"
"yes" you kissed him "Yes please please pl-"
"always so good for me" he bit your lip, moving your panties to the side and positioning himself at your entrance, the head of his dick rubbing against your slit.
"my pretty bunny" he breathed, finally pushing in.
"fuck" you cried, wrapping your legs around him...or at least trying to.
He groaned loudly, his head falling to your neck " 've missed you baby, missed this pussy so much-"
"I missed you too daddy" you confessed,
"barely slept last night without you by my side bunny" he groaned, starting to move and causing a gasp to your throat "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you y'know" his words tickled against your ear "I don't want you to ever do that again bunny" he spoke, his thrust so slow and yet so agonizingly deep "I need you"
And there it was, the Joel Miller only you knew.
"I won't" you whispered, one of your hands gripping his hair while the other kept you stable on the table
"you promise?"
"I promise Daddy" You kissed the skin of his neck you could access "It's me and you"
You felt him smile against your shoulder
"me and you" he repeated your words, leaning away to look at you.
You both smiled at each other like idiots, but before you could fully take the moment in, he thrust out and inside of you so harshly and so fucking deeply that your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
"oh my god" you started chanting, your head falling backward.
"you're so tight" he breathed, rolling his hips as he angled his cock to ruin you completely "She's so tight Marcus" he spoke more loudly, grinning like a bastard.
You chuckled, followed by him, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, and it wasn't a pretty kiss, oh no, it was a mess of moans and groans and teeth and yet it felt better than anything else in this world.
"fuck" you moaned "You feel so good, daddy"
"yeah?" he sucked in a breath, still smirking "Say it a little louder- tell Marcus who only gets to touch you- who you belong to baby"
"you daddy" you screamed "I'm yours- only yours"
"that's right" he picked up his pace "and is anyone else ever gonna touch this precious little body of yours?"
"n-no" you muttered, ecstasy taking over your body "O-only you"
"atta girl" he murmured his hands gripping your waist to force himself deeper "You gonna give me another one bunny?" he watched your fucked out self "You gonna squeeze me real good like you do and let me fill you up with my come, sweetheart?"
"yes" you whined "Yes please fill me up, Daddy"
"After you bunny, you know how it works" he smirked
"I'm almost there-" you gasped "I'm coming daddy. I'm-"
And before you knew it a tsunami of pleasure had overcome you. Your legs were shaking, your eyes were teary and every part of your body felt both on fire and never more alive.
He came with a loud groan right after you, painting your insides with endless ropes of his come.
" I love you bunny," he said, after catching his breath
"I love you too daddy" you promised, kissing him with a gentleness he only enjoyed receiving by you.
"I wish we could go for another round but I got business to take care of" he sighed, nodding to... Oh right, Marcus was still there.
You couldn't help the giggle fleeing your lips.
He shook his head as he watched that heartstopping smile of yours "You go, David will take you home, I don't want you to see this" he said, pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his pants.
"Joel..." you pouted, "you said you weren't gonna kill him"
He raised his eyebrows "You were serious?"
"of course I was"
"bunny..." he groaned, letting his forehead fall to yours
"No. No Joel I don't want you to kill him"
He looked into your eyes for a moment, trying to understand how serious you were.
"Can I at least have a little fun with him?" he asked
"Fine" you agreed "but don't hit his face" you said, making him frown "I kinda like his face" you explained
He smiled before meeting his lips with yours again "Your wish is my command, bunny"
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