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drchucktingle · 4 months

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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

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KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

#love is real #chuck tingle #tingleverse #texas library association #actually autistic #lgtbqia #Youtube

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2hightocare · 3 months

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NO NUT NOVEMBER.

Synopsis: Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

Pairings: dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings— SMUT! cussing, kind of drunk sex?, dirty talk, anal, squirting, spanking, size kink!!!!, jk is pussy whipped, jk eating you out, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!) rough sex!!, crying from pleasure, hair pulling, fluff at the very end,

a/n: someone lock me the fuck up… this is in the KUWTB universe, jus wanted to get into jk and oc sex life more… enjoy🥹🤍

m.list

“I am not betting a thousand on Jungkook for no nut; November be fucking for real; he’s going to lose twenty minutes in.” Namjoon says knowing his friend and knowing how you have him wrapped around your pinky will have him losing money.

“I can go a whole month without sex, motherfuckers.” Jungkook gasps, running a hand through his wet hair from his previous shower.

It was Halloween night, and the boys just came back from accompanying Iseul and Ye Joon trick or treating down the neighborhood.

“I’m taking my baby to the rich neighborhoods so she can get the full-size candy bars.” Jungkook squeezes Iseul's cheeks, trying to avoid the cute bunny face paint you had drawn on. Your husband, without thinking twice, matched her outfit with the big fluffy bunny ears on the top of his head, bobbing on his head whenever he would move around.

"You literally live in a rich neighborhood.” Ari scolds, sending Jungkook's arm flying up in his defense.

"Trust, I won’t fuck up!” Jungkook defends himself while the boys have a hard time believing him; the boys only sighed before agreeing.

…

Jungkook couldn’t do it; his dick immediately hardened as he saw you walking down the stairs in your playboy bunny costume, the small black leather skirt that barely covers your ass, and your black thong visible to everyone. The black long-sleeve crop top and the bunny ears had him stressing and wishing he wouldn’t have made that bet.

“Fuck, you look beautiful, baby." Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in possessively. His hand lowered to your ass before giving a soft squeeze; you didn’t even bat an eye.

“Thank you, my love.” You give him a quick peck before looking down at his all-black outfit. “You look handsome, daddy,” you wink before walking to the kitchen where Eunbi and Jia were.

You had taken a new habit of calling Jungkook Daddy a joke, and he knew that, but right now the word just worsened the hard problem he has in his pants.

It’s around three in the morning now, and the house is a mess. Iseul is staying with your mother-in-law, who volunteered to take care of her for the night. You were definitely drunk; Ari and Lora came in the house already fucked up, and them being bad influences made you and all the girls take shot after shot, so here you were dancing in your living room as the guys sat on the couch watching you all.

“I think I might owe you all a thousand." Jungkook sighs at his friends. Who’s head snaps at him in shock? “You fucking lost already; are you serious? It's been like three hours!?” Seokjin gasps, and Jimin giggles beside him.

That’s when everyone pulls their wallets and drops wads of cash in Jimin's hands. “I fucking told you he wouldn’t last." Jimin snickers as he counts the money in his hands.

“You guys have no faith in me! I haven’t done anything."Jungkook whispers the last part, "Oh." Jimin says he is disappointed before handing the money back to the corresponding boys.

“Then why do you say that?" Hoseok sighs, putting the hundred back in his wallet before tucking it in his back pocket.

“She’s dressed as a playboy bunny!! A sexy ass playboy bunny.” Jungkook whispers, “Please come on; you would fuck y/n in a garbage bag.” Yoongi says, before sending a signal to Eunbi to stop drinking, to which she only nods 'no', making Yoongi stand up and march her way.

“She would look good in anything—better without anything, actually.” Jungkook says as he sees you down, another shot making him shoot up his seat.

“No more alcohol for you, baby.” He takes the shot glass out of your hands, putting his arm around your waist to keep you stabilized. "Babyyy,” you pout, looking up at him, fisting his shirt, and pulling him closer to your face.

“What princess?” He says softly, your faces almost touching each other; he can smell the alcohol. “I’m so drunk.” You slur with a goofy smile on your face, gripping onto his shoulders, raising your legs behind you, and reaching for your heel, making you stumble backwards just for Yoongi and Jungkook to stabilize you.

"Yeah, we’re leaving,” Yoongi says as he holds onto Eunbi, who’s slurring a bunch of nonsense, “but I don’t want to leave!" Eunbi whines as Yoongi chuckles as he drags her to the front door.

“We should leave too, then,” all the boys say, standing up and wishing everyone goodbye. “Let’s go, my love,” Taehyung tells Ari, who’s lying on the ground, her police officer outfit long gone, replaced with the big t-shirt you had handed her earlier.

"Nooo, I want to stay with y/n!” She gets picked up by Taehyung, who shushes her with a kiss. “You reek like alcohol,” he chuckles before giving Jungkook a head nod and walking out, Jimin and Namjoon following behind them, being the last ones out, the rest long gone.

Jungkook lays you on the couch, kneeling down, unstrapping your heels, and taking them off before kissing the top of your shin. Making you moan in relief.

“My feet hurt so bad!” You whine loudly before bringing your feet into your chest, making your skirt ride up, giving Jungkook a perfect view of your covered pussy.

He wanted nothing to open your legs, put your panties aside, and eat you out at that moment, but one, you were drunk, and two, the stupid bet he made yesterday. So instead of doing all that, he stood up and made his way to the main door, locking it before making his way back to you, taking his dirty shirt off in the process.

“You are so hot... Could you maybe have my baby?” You pout, looking up at him, who’s hovering over you with a smile on his face. “You already had my baby, princess.” He chuckles at you, making grabby hands up at him.

“Then another one?” You slur with the goofiest smile on your face as he picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his torso as your arms wrap around his neck. “You would slap yourself if you heard yourself right now, baby.” He laughs as you snuggle your face into his neck.

“If it’s a girl, what would we name her?” You slur your words as Jungkook starts making his way upstairs to your guy's room. “I don’t know, princess, do you know?” He asks you, taking one step at a time.

“I like Nabi," you giggle. “I like Nabi.” Jungkook repeats after you, giving your puffed-out cheek a wet kiss. “And if it’s a boy, we can name it Junior.” Jungkook suggests entering your guys room.

“Ew no!” You shake your head, sticking your tongue out like you just ate something disgusting. “That’s offensive; you don’t like my name?” Jungkook puts you gently on the bed, crossing his arms in front of him, making his muscles flex as he watches you bite your lip while you look up to him.

“Of course I do. It’s just that’s the name I scream out when I’m getting railed. I don’t want my son to have that name." You shiver from the thought, leaving Jungkook speechless from your boldness.

“Y/n!” He chokes out, "What? I’m being honest!” You slur, trying to put your shirt over your head, only to get stuck with your hands up in the air. “Help me!" you whine.

Your husband laughs immediately, helping you take your shirt off before throwing it somewhere in the room. He watches you struggle to reach behind you to unclip your bra.

“Turn around, baby; let me help.” He orders, and who are you to say no?

“Mkay,” you say, turning around and letting Jungkook unclip it with his hand, making your bra drop onto the bed. And with that, you fall face-first into the bed. "Yeah, no, get up. We need to brush your teeth and take your makeup off. Come on.” Jungkook picks up your frame as you whine loudly.

As Jungkook drags you to your guy's shared bathroom in only your skirt, Jungkook sets you up on the sink, and you bring your knees up against you again, making Jungkook want to run into a wall.

Seeing you with your smudge eyeliner and mascara has his thoughts running wild. You are topless, and the tiniest skirt he has ever seen you wear has him imagining how he could bend you over, lift your skirt up, and fuck you raw.

He shakes his thoughts off, getting your light pink toothbrush and lathering it with toothpaste before passing it to you. You lazily brush your teeth with your eyes closed, making small sounds at random times as Jungkook brushes his teeth as well.

“I'm dizzy.. My head is spinning.” You giggle as toothpaste is still in your mouth before spitting it out. Jungkook makes a little bowl with his hand, putting his palm underneath the water and accumulating a good amount before bringing it into your mouth, which you then swish around your mouth before spitting it out into the sink.

“All done," you clap your hands, trying to get off the counter.

“You need to take your makeup off; where are your makeup wipes?” Jungkook asks as he goes through all your skincare and makeup.

“How the fuck do you know what a makeup wipe is?" You slur, your brows furrowing, as you wrap your arms around your legs and up your chest. “Baby what?” Jungkook laughs at your question, knowing he has taken off your makeup countless times before this one.

“I'm mad now.” You pout, pushing your husband's hands off your knees. "Baby, please, I have only taken your makeup off. I promise." Jungkook raises his pinky, which you only glare at.

“Did you fuck her in the legs-up position? Because that’s our position.” You slur once again, making Jungkook chuckle in front of you.

“Baby, trust me, I would not fuck anyone in any position that isn’t you,” he reassures as you stare at his pinky that’s still in the air. “Okay,” you pout in defeat, interlocking your pinky with his.

“You can’t be lying because that’s a pinky promise,” you warn. “Of course, baby,” he says, giving you a kiss on your forehead before opening the small packet. “Be gentle," you whine as you stare at your shirtless boyfriend, who takes a wipeout.

He only nods, holding your neck like a necklace to keep your head straight, and starts taking off your makeup. “I’m hungry,” you say as your eyes flutter closed.

“It’s three in the morning, princess; there's nothing open right now.” Jungkook smiles at your scrunched-up expression. “Did you eat all the cookies?" You peek your eye open. “Maybe..” Jungkook whispers, dropping the dirty wipe in the trash can beside him.

“What! You don’t even share with me anymore.” You mumble as Jungkook picks you up and makes his way to your shared bed, dropping you on it. “I share everything with you, baby,” he says as he undoes his pants to slide into bed with you.

You stare at your husband through your eyelashes as you struggle to take off your skirt. “Need help?” Jungkook chuckles under breath as his pants fall to the ground, leaving him in only a pair of black boxers, his print clearly visible.

"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip as you tilt your head to the side to get a better view in between his pants as he reaches for the zipper on your skirt, pulling it down. "Up, baby,” he orders. You do as he says and raise your bottom up, letting him pull your skirt off, leaving you in your thong.

Jungkook drops the skirt on the floor as he watches you lying on the bed with nothing but the black piece of clothing covering your center. His breath rises as he watches you reach between your legs and move your panties to the side, giving him a perfect view of you.

“I’m so wet, baby, help me,” you whine as you run a finger through your drenched slit. "Baby, I can’t,” he hushes as his dick twitches in his briefs.

“I’m not that drunk anymore, I promise.” You mumble, giving your pussy a little slap. “Fuck,” you moan.

Jungkook very much wanted nothing but to slam into you in this exact moment, but did he really not have self-control when it came to you? He thought to himself.

"Please... if not, I’ll just fuck myself with my fingers.” You giggled, bringing your index and middle fingers up to your mouth, sucking and twirling your tongue on the tips, all while remaining eye contact with your husband, who’s fighting with himself whenever he wants to control himself or fuck you into the mattress.

But when Jungkook saw you insert a finger, he realized he didn’t have self-control when it came to you, and actually, he could give zero fucks about it, plus one thousand was nothing compared to you.

“Fuck it!” Jungkook grabbed a hold of your hands before pinning them up to your head, making you giggle loudly. “Hi.” You giggle as his face is just a few inches away from yours, and his eyes scan your face. “Hi.” He chuckles and smashes his lips against yours.

You moan softly as he wastes no time inserting his tongue into your mouth. His tongue glides along yours, making noise each time you part apart to breathe. Jungkook abandons your lips, moving to your neck, licking, sucking, and blowing.

“I want to eat you out,” he mumbles into your neck between sucking, leaving purplish red marks. He slowly makes his way down your body, all while remaining in eye contact with you. You use your elbows to prop yourself up, getting a clear view of your husband between your legs.

He chuckles, blowing a kiss to your clit making your hips buck forward, a choked moan leaves your mouth. “You’re dripping for me." He runs a finger through your puffy slit, spreading your arousal all over your pussy.

You feel your wetness ooze down to your puckered hole and maybe even to the gray sheets underneath you. Jungkook tauntingly hovered over your aching center. “Please, fuck,” you buck your hips up again, making him pin you down.

Jungkook gives your cunt a long and slow lick, “shit.” You whine, your legs squeezing around his face, as he starts lapping on your clit, swirling and sucking. His saliva and your juices mixing together.

He pushes your legs up, spreading your pussy more for him. As he continues to suck harshly on your clit your fingers rake in his hair, pulling roughly whenever he would non-stop flick his tongue on your bud, making you shake. "Fuck, you’re going to make cum.” Your eyes roll back into your head.

Jungkooks cock is painfully hard in his briefs; he shifts from his position in hope to relieve some of the pressure, but it only twitches in return. Your husband brings his tattooed fingers in front of your face and says, "Suck.” He orders, and he doesn't have to ask twice.

You grab ahold of his hand and insert his three large fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue on the tip and sucking like you would if you were on your knees in front of him.

A rush of blood rushes to his cock as he watches you suck on his fingers. You pop his fingers out of your mouth.

He tugs on your clit one last time before rubbing your sensitive bud slowly. You choke out a moan.

Jungkook inserts one of his finger pumping it in and out of your gummy walls, sending you back into the mattress. “Fuck yes,” you cry. He inserts a second finger, pumping them out quickly, curling them inside you, and hitting your spot each time. You grip tightly onto the sheet as you start to feel dizzy. “I’m coming, shit shit shit,” you cry out. You try to push Jungkook off you as he slides his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, with his tongue flicking your clit sending you over the edge.

Your mouth hangs open as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your pussy clenches around Jungkook's fingers. A rush of fluid squirts out of you, leaving you shaking and gasping for air.

“pretty.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath, giving your pussy a small slap and making you whine from the overstimulation.

Jungkook stands up, watching you squeeze your legs together with your eyes closed and chest heaving. “You good, baby?” He leans over, kissing your face over and over again until you peek your eyes open, and you giggle nonstop.

“Fuck!” You giggle, making Jungkook raise an eyebrow. “So good,” you giggle, “yeah?” He smirks, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Mhm.” You nod, kissing him back. “Let me return the favor.” You reach for his huge hard on, squeezing.

“Let me just fuck you.” He whispers into your mouth as you giggle in response.

“Okay.” You nod. Jungkook slowly stands up from the bed as you watch him push down his briefs, letting his cock spring free. He grabs ahold of the base, giving it a squeeze, and runs his thumb along his aching red slit before walking closer to you. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He spits down, letting his saliva drip down onto his cock before giving it two pumps, “legs up. ” He taps your thigh for you to do as he says.

You giggle, pushing your legs up, giving your husband an amazing view of your drenched spread out, dripping core.

“Fuck,” he says, aligning himself with your hole and slapping his cock on your pussy multiple times. "Shit, ah,” you moan, digging your nails into your thighs.

Jungkook watches as you clench your pussy over nothing, making his cock twitch. He runs his length over your slit before sliding into you. “Oh shit.” You gasp, biting your lip harshly.

Jungkook has always been too big for you, always stretching you out deliciously every time you had sex. Your pussy always took him so well.

"Shit, shit, shit,” you say, closing your eyes as you feel the burn of him sliding deeper into you. “You can take it, baby.” He hushes, pushing in deeper, and he rubs your clit with his thumb, trying to ease you.

You can feel him all the way into your belly as he finally is all the way in you. “You take me so well, fuck, baby.” Jungkook groans as you clench non-stop around him.

"Move, fuck, ah,” you cry. You didn’t have to ask twice, as he started sliding out of your hole before slamming back in. Your nails dig into your thighs, leaving marks as he continues to slide in and out of you repeatedly.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he slams roughly into you. His hands push your legs down to your chest as he fucks into you, his cock spreading your walls and his tip hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

Jungkook watches his cock disappear into your messy wet cunt; he watches how you spasm every time he pounds into you; your pussy squirts every time he pulls out; but he doesn’t stop; he continues to slam back in.

Tears stream down your face from the immense pleasure in your core as you reach between your legs, rubbing your clit furiously. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock so well.” Jungkook says between gritted teeth, as you only reply with a moan.

“Look at you squirting all over my cock.” He pulls out, spurs of liquid come rushing out of you, and your legs shake as your pussy convulses from each spurt. “Ahh fuck.” You moan as Jungkook rubs your pussy; your hands reach for his, trying to push him away, but failing as you orgasm with a long, loud moan.

“Good girl.” He groans.

“I can't... fuck,” you choke out, trying to catch your breath. "Yes, you can." Jungkook flips you over to your stomach. “Ass up.” He demands giving your ass a spank.

You bring your ass up in the air, leaving your upper body laying on the bed totally spent. “Fuck pussy, so messy." Jungkook runs his cock through your pussy before sliding back in.

"Shit, this angle fucks me up,” he groans, getting ahold of your waist and squeezing roughly, probably leaving marks, as he slams into you. You dig your head into the mattress, biting onto the sheets, silencing your screams. The wet sound of him pounding into you and your screams are the only things being heard in the room.

“You love being fucked like this, huh?” He moans, pounding into you from behind. You don’t reply.

He pulls out and pulls your hair up. “Answer me. You love being fucked like this, huh?” He whispers into your ear, your back arched against him.

“Yes.” You cry, and tears stream down your face. “Yes what? Baby.” He chuckles from your disheveled state, “I love being fucked like this.” You stutter over your words; the only thing your brain can comprehend is that you wanted to come again for the third time.

And with that, he lets you go. As you fall back down onto the bed, Jungkook spreads your ass cheeks, watching your pussy and asshole clench over nothing. “Spread open.” He orders you.

Jungkook watches how you do as he says and spread yourself open for him. He takes the base of his cock and aligns himself with your other hole. He rubs over some of your arousal to your asshole, inserting the tip of his cock before pushing the rest of his length inside you, “Fuckk.” You moan loudly, "Relax, baby.” He groans loudly at how tight it is.

This is not the first time Jungkook has fucked your ass, but the stretch of his cock always feels like the first time. He stays for a few moments, still waiting for you to adjust. "Go," you whimper. A green light for him to thrust.

He spreads you open more, watching his cock slip out of your hole before thrusting back in slowly. You moan under him, and you reach under him, rubbing your clit softly as tears run down your cheeks.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Jungkook moans, squeezing your ass and restraining himself from pounding into you at that very moment.

You insert two of your fingers into your pussy, sliding them in and out as Jungkook slides his cock into your ass. "Faster, please,” you whine, fucking your fingers into you as Jungkook speeds up his movements.

Your legs shake barely holding up as he pounds into roughly moaning loudly each time you clench, “You fucking like that?” He chokes out each slam he thrusts into you. “Keep taking it, baby.” His balls slam into your pussy, which each push.

“Fuck so good.” He moans, not stopping his movements. Both of you are sweating as you bite down on the gray sheets, feeling your pussy spasms with liquid with each thrust. “I’m coming.” You shriek,

“Go ahead, baby.” Jungkook's eyes roll to the back of his head, watching you shake underneath him. His body locks up, and black and white spots fill his vision as his dick twitches in you before spilling his seed into you with a loud groan.

“Oh fuck.” Jungkook pants as he slides out of your ass, his come oozing out of you. You fall onto the bed, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you whimper softly from the outstanding orgasm you just went through.

"Fuck, are you okay, baby?” Jungkook makes his way to you, flipping you over to be able to see your face. You whimper softly with your hands covering your face. "Shit, baby, did I hurt you?” He panics, shooting straight up and taking your hands off your face.

He sees the tears streaming down your face, and that sends a blow to his heart. "Baby, where does it hurt?” He scans your body and tries to soothe your shaking legs, rubbing his palms up and down your thighs.

“I’m okay.” You whimper between cries.

“Then why are you crying, my love?” He pulls you up into a sitting position before kissing your tear-stained cheeks. "felt so good.” You cry. A wave of relief hits Jungkook. "Baby," he chuckles, giving you kisses all over your face.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” You cry as he laughs softly while standing up, finding his briefs on the ground before stepping into them. He goes into your guys' shared closet looking for a pair of underwear for you and one of his shirts.

"Here, baby, let me help you.” He makes his way to you; he sits beside you as he helps you put on your panties and his shirt.

“Do you need anything?” Jungkook asks, putting your hair behind your ear. “No, I'm super tired; I want to cuddle.” You say snuggling under the covers with a big smile on your face, and Jungkook follows in beside you.

…

The next morning, Jungkook called in for an emergency meeting as he was waiting for the boys to come in. Taehyung arrives first with a guilty expression on his face, and before Jungkook could ask what’s up, Hoseok and Namjoon come striding in. And not long after all the boys started striding in.

“So..” Jungkook starts, “I fucked up.” And with that, he drops a thousand on the table in front of the boys. Nobody moves, and nobody says anything until,

"Oh, thank God, and I thought it was going to be just me." Taehyung drops a wad of cash, with the rest of the boys following along, dropping cash on the table.

“Are you fucking serious!?” Namjoon stares at his friends with his jaw wide open. “Am I the only one who took this seriously?” Namjoon shook his head at his friends.

“Honestly, I don't regret it at all.” Jungkook shrugs.

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luvjunie · 11 months

Text

— trust who?

pairing: e-42!miles x 1610!fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of death, yandere?miles

summary: you were taken from him a year ago, and now it seems the universe has given him a chance to do things differently— and this time, he’s not letting you go. no matter what. wc: 1,648

a/n: i got a lil carried away w this one won’t lie, lol. i love this song, and i put a little twist on it to match the plot. song lyrics are in small, bold italics

🎧: Not You Too - drake (ft. chris brown)

“trust- trust who? trust me and i can set you free. left your man came straight to me you the real mvp, my love.“

dimmed hues of red lights spotted your vision as you came to, eyelids heavy as they peeled apart to reveal the room you assumed would be the setting of your demise. your head snapped up when you finally regained consciousness completely, fright-riddled eyes darting around to scout out an escape plan. but just as you went to move, you heard chains clink from above as your body swayed, and realized you couldn’t. you looked down to find your legs bound by rope, as well as your hands, as well as the rest of your body to a firm, stuffed sack.

feet dangling from the ground, you let your head fall back against the punching bag, defeated, and settled for your only remaining option. “help!” you yelled, voice rasped and weak. “help!” you tried again.

“don’t bother, can’t hear a thing down here.”

an artificial, robotic voice sounded from above, warranting your eyes to meet a masked man who resided on a high beam, crouched in place, watching you. how long had he been there?

he jumped down, catching himself and effortlessly hanging from one arm before his sneakers met the steel floor. they were untied, you noticed.

fear permeated your entire being as he strolled over to you, a semblance of uneasiness coursing through your veins, pumping into your blood and rendering your spine straight as the ominous figure stopped just in front of you.

“ple—please, i don’t know why i’m here,” the words tumbled out in a broken heap of suffocated, stifled sobs as tears welled in your eyes.

“shh, it’s okay,” he shushed you, a hand reaching out to gently pinch your chin, lifting your head back up after it’d fallen. his touch was delicate, like he was scared he’d break you.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, mi vida. i’d never hurt you… you know that.” the voice distorter cut out, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering over every inch of this strange mask. it reminded you of a ventilation mask you’d seen in miles’ room once, a mask used to protect your lungs from the fumes of spray paint.

as if your mind were working against you, you found yourself… calmer than you were just a few seconds ago, and even more confused. why did the voice sound so familiar?

something wasn’t right.

“who— who are you?” you gulped.

“you don’t remember me?” the shield over his face pulled back, the quiet sound of mechanical whirring as it revealed his face drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ear drums.

here stood your boyfriend in front of you, the same features, but… different. his entire demeanor had shifted since you had last seen him just prior to whatever time it was now, to something sinister. his hair was longer, pulled back and braided. an accent, almost resemblant of his mother’s lingered on the tip of his tongue, dripping within the words he spoke. his face was harder, etched and carved like the weight of the world had chipped at it piece by piece, only to settle on his shoulders, leaving him with no time for himself.

this couldn’t be right.

“miles?” you choked out, mouth gaping to find your voice. “w-why… what am I—you’re, you… but different? what is this? where am i?”

a puff of air shot through his nostrils, his best effort at a laugh as a small, smile lifted the corner of his lips, braids gliding over his shoulders when his head tilted to the side.

“you came back to me, mi amor. and god…you’re even more beautiful than i remembered.” he breathed, eyes flickering with sorrow for just a moment as they studied your face, a moment that was almost too brief for you to catch.

when he’d encountered you and his counterpart on the roof with his uncle, he swore his prayers had been answered. somehow, someway you’d been brought back to him— the pain of witnessing the bullet that pierced through your chest that fateful night just a year ago drifted from his mind, and replaced itself with the all consuming, peaceful, sleeping image of you the minute he’d picked you up and cradled you in his arms. it pained him to inject you with the needle to sedate you, but he had no other choice, he could never truly hurt you. no, he would never do that.

“i missed you so much.”

“first time in a long time hurtin' deeply inside”

the hand sporting his mechanical gauntlet lifted towards you, fingers bending so the claws wouldn’t scrape your skin as he let the cold metal brush against the swell of your cheek. the sound of the steel joints ticking made you flinch, chest stuttering for breaths you couldn’t keep within your overworked lungs as you turned away from him.

you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes, when all he’s ever wanted to do was keep you safe, to protect you, to make you feel comforted and secure. and he failed at that before, he knows that, but he’s ready this time. he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

“it’s me, hermosa… it’s okay, you know me. just trust me, and i can set you free, and then we can be together. just like old times.” his brows furrowed, his tone one of sincerity as he assured you, but it did nothing for your racing heart.

“trust—“ you sputtered, voice wavering when you spoke. “trust who? you? how can i when you have me tied up like this?!” you balked, your bewilderment such a stark contrast from his bleak, seemingly unmoving disposition.

“yeah… i’m real sorry ‘bout that. uncle aaron made me, so i tried not to make ‘em too tight. you know something like this would never, ever be my idea.”

you shook your head, was this some kind of sick joke? why wasn’t he understanding a single word that was coming from your mouth?

you grew frustrated, time was not on your side, and honestly you were getting tired of this game.

“i don’t know anything about you, i don’t even know who you are. you might have his face, and—and his body,” you looked him up and down. “but you… you are not my miles.”

he felt a pang in his chest, the words you uttered, the way you said ‘my miles’, as if he wasn’t right here, as if he wasn’t right in front of you. the version of himself he’d buried in the ground with you just last year wanted to jump out and yell at you, plead with you, anything to make you see he could be just like your miles, because he was your miles.

“oh,” he pulled the skin of his cheek between his teeth as he turned away with an agitated nod, extending his arm out to point towards your miles, who was still unconscious, chin dropped to his chest as he hung from another punching bag.

“him?” his voice raised in volume and broke apart with desperation, a humorless chuckle unintentionally escaping his trembling lips. “what’s the difference? huh? tell me.” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he tried to maintain his composure, staring deep into the eyes of the girl who would’ve burned the whole world down with him if he asked. the girl who was in his grasp, right in this moment, yet still so far from his reach— reserved for the one who had everything that belonged to him.

your head whipped to where he pointed, and the moment your eyes landed on your boyfriend your blood ran cold, a pained gasp rippling your chest. “miles! oh god, please!” you called out for him as you struggled against your restraints, his counterpart interrupting you by blocking your line of your view with his body.

“cálmate,” he hummed, “he’s fine, just unconscious. i’m not cruel. is that how you remember me, mamí?” he questioned, voice bleeding with hurt.

your gaze drifted over to your miles again, hope swelling within you when you heard him groan.

“no, no, princesa. don’t look at him, look at me.” he urged.

he didn’t understand. you always used to say you would love him in every universe, that you’d find him in every lifetime, what happened to that?

“please, we need to get home, if we don’t… he won’t be able to save his father, he—he’ll die. you have to understand.” you pleaded, the tears finally bubbling over your waterline, streamlining down your cheeks.

“you are home! it’s me, mi amor, i’m right here. what about everything we went through?” he asked tenderly, voice full of hurt and eyes still soaking in the slight difference in your features. he was too distracted by the fact that the girl he thought he’d never see again, was right here in front of him to even try and comprehend what you were trying to say. “please, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

nothing else seemed to be working, so you settled for empathizing with him. he was still miles, after all, different universe or not, he was still the same person deep down. and from the way he was looking at you, love flowing from the eyes that held so much anguish within them, you knew some version of you had loved him, too. in the same way you loved your own.

“look, i’m sure i-“ you stopped to correct yourself, “she, loved you, but i’m not her. i’m not from here, and i’m sorry she’s gone, and i’m sorry you have to live with this pain, but, please… you have to let me go.” your tone was forbearing, words teetering off into a hushed plea, your lingering apprehension threatening to tear through the seam of your heartfelt spiel.

“let you go?”

you nodded tentatively.

he moved closer to you, to unbound you from this elevated prison, you assumed. because maybe, just maybe you’d managed to get through to him.

but this wasn’t your universe, and this… this was not your miles.

for the first time in your entirety of knowing miles morales, you felt your heart stop— and not in the way that brought a flurry of warmed, passioned butterflies to flutter within you— but in a way that invited his words to settle like ice in your bones, allowed panic and dread to inhabit your senses, clutching you in a selfish grasp of resentment that had no intentions of letting you go— you realized, as this time, his gloveless hand swiped away yet another tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed.

“why would i do that?”

“I've given you enough time. hurtin' deeply inside.“

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

©luvjunie 2023

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #miles g morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #42 miles morales #prowler miles fanfic #miles morales angst

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marcsburnerphone · 3 months

Text

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

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drudyslut · 3 months

Text

— warnings: smut! 18+ aggressive!rafe, slightly bimbo!reader, semi public sex, almost getting caught, fingering, hair pulling, face fucking (my fav shit oops), slapping, choking, degrading, praise, unprotected sex.

— note: this was a request for kook king!football player!rafe x kook queen!bimbo cheerleader!reader from @oceandriveab and i accidentally posted it before writing anything, so here’s this😈 i’m ferallllll for football player!rafe 😮‍💨

❥ mine — r.c

“touchdown, rafe cameron!”

the announcers voice booms through the speakers, the crowd is screaming, cheering your boyfriends name loudly!

you have a wide smile on your face, rafe had scored the game winning touchdown, and you knew that meant he’d be in an extra good mood tonight.

the sound of the football coaches voice fills your ears, and you see players rushing the field. you drop your poms by your feet, rushing to the field yourself, in search of rafe.

“rafe!!” you shout, finding him mid field, his teammates, students, coaches, and other cheerleaders surrounding him.

he finds your eyes through the sea of people surrounding him, politely excusing himself and pushing himself out of the sea of bodies, taking long strides toward you.

you throw your hands up in the air, squealing in excitement when he reaches you, “you did it baby! game winning touchdown, you secured our spot in the playoffs!”

rafe wraps one arm tightly around your waist, his free hand gripping his helmet by his side as he lifts you up off the ground. you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, cupping his cheeks with your hands and placing hundreds of kisses to his face, landing one on his lips before he sets you back onto your feet.

you lift yourself onto your toes, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “so, you wanna hurry and get outta here? don’t bother showering”

rafe glances down at you, an amused smirk on his lips. he brings his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it quickly and opening his mouth to speak before he’s approached by a reporter.

“rafe! good game tonight, tell us about your strategy for game nights”

rafe smiles softly, turning to face you, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear, “go wait for me by the locker rooms, this’ll only take a second baby”

you giggle, bringing your own bottom lip between your teeth and nodding your head.

quickly turning on your heels you rush toward the sidelines to gather your stuff before making your way toward the locker rooms. you pull your phone out of your cheer bag, opening instagram and scrolling through the endless posts about tonight’s game.

you stand and scroll for about ten minutes when you finally hear rafe’s voice, “hey baby, ready to go home?”

you stared at your boyfriend in awe, he looked so sexy, black face paint smeared under his eyes, hair messy from sweat and his helmet, and his goddamn football pants, squeezing him in all the right places, making you ache.

you needed him, and you didn’t think you could wait the fifteen minutes it took to get back home.

“baby… i- i don’t think i can wait until we get home.. i need you now..” you say softly, batting your lashes innocently at him.

he narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side in question before it finally hits him what you’re hinting at.

he exhales deeply, “fuck, you wanna fuck here? where?”

you bite at your bottom lip, eyes darkened over in lust as you grab his hand and pull him into the locker room. it was empty, everyone else having left by now.

you pull him toward the showers, reaching inside and turning one on before dropping his hand and pulling your cheer top over your head.

rafe sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes scanning the length of your body, “fuck baby. you look so fucking sexy”

“stop talking, show me how sexy you think i am baby”

he quickly drops his bag and his helmet on the ground, stepping toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, pulling your lips into his.

you moan into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. he tightens his grip on your throat, pushing your back into a wall, his lips never leaving yours.

he pulls himself back, his lips swollen and red as his eyes search your face for any signs of wanting to stop and go home instead.

your hands fly to his football pants, quickly undoing the button and pulling them down his legs. you bite at your bottom lip when you see his bulge pressed tightly against his briefs, “someone’s excited, isn’t he?” you tease.

rafe growls when your small hand palms him through his briefs, gently rubbing at his hard cock.

he pushes your hands away, pulling his jersey and pads off of his upper body, tossing them to the floor as well. he quickly moves his hands to your ass, gripping tightly at the flesh before he slowly pulls the zipper down and making your skirt fall to the floor.

his eyes scan your entire body, making your panties grow wetter under his intense gaze. you take advantage of his eyes on you, slowly moving your hands to the back of your bra and unclasping it, letting the straps fall from your shoulders slowly until the lace material hits the ground.

you move to your panties next, slowly sliding them down your legs until you’re completely naked for him. you turn your body so your back was facing him, slowly bending yourself down to gather your clothes from the floor, giving him a perfect view of your soaked pussy.

a loud squeal is pulled from you when rafe aggressively grabs at your arms, pulling you into the hot shower. he throws you into the shower wall, a dark look in his eyes as he watches you squirm from his touch, “such a fucking slut, wanting to be fucked by your boyfriend in a semi public place? you get off on knowing anyone of my teammates, any of my coaches, or any of your girls could walk in on us at anytime?”

you try and answer him, but you’re so turned on, brain short circuiting as you take in his perfect body, his hard, thick cock staring at you, begging to be touched, “i-i.. y-yes?” you answer weakly.

rafe chuckles, his hand flying to your throat again and squeezing lightly. he uses his grip on your throat to push you onto the cold shower floor, your knees already starting to hurt from the hard ground below you.

“go on, be a good fucking girl, suck my cock”

you quickly obey, softly grasping his cock in your hands and pumping him slowly. you smirk to yourself when you hear him groan, glancing up and seeing his head thrown back in pleasure as you worked his cock with your hands.

you lick at his tip, tasting the precum that had leaked from him and humming in satisfaction, “taste so good daddy”

a low growl emits from rafe’s throat, his hands flying to the back of your head. he grips your hair between his fingers, shoving his cock down your throat without warning.

you begin gagging around him, his swollen head hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as he harshly thrusts himself into your mouth. the grip on your hair tightens, shoving himself as deep as he could and stilling inside you.

he takes his free hand and begins stroking at your cheek softly before pulling back and landing a harsh smack to the skin. his hand makes it way to your throat, fingertips running over the bulge from where his dick sat, “so goddamn pretty with your throat full of my cock. could stay like this forever baby girl”

he harshly pulls your head back, making himself slip from your mouth with a pop, strings of spit pulling from your mouth. you begin gasping for air, your eyes glued on rafe, lashes fluttering.

“up and turn. gonna fuck this pussy so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow”

you quickly rise to your feet, your knees red and sore from being on the ground so long but you push the thought to the back of your mind. you turn and face the wall, pressing your hands firmly against the cold tile.

rafe wraps an arm around your waist, his fingers instantly finding your clit and rubbing sloppy circles around it. a soft whimper falls from your lips, pushing your ass out further, chasing more of his touch.

rafe cups your pussy, his palm pressed firmly against your clit while he ran his thick fingers through your folds, teasing at your entrance.

he shoves his middle finger inside you, slowly thrusting it while applying more pressure to your clit with his palm.

“awe, my girls already clenching around my finger, can’t wait to fuck this sweet pussy, fill you up with my cum. you want that baby?”

you whine, your hips bucking forward when he shoves another finger inside your sopping cunt. your head goes back, landing on his toned chest, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on the pleasure, your orgasm fluttering.

rafe slows the pace of his fingers, completely stilling them inside you. his free hand grips at your damp hair, pulling your head back and into an uncomfortable position, forcing your eyes on him, “s’not nice to ignore me baby, answer the question”

“yes! rafe please! want to be filled with your cum, please!” you beg, tears streaming down your face, mixing with the now lukewarm water streaming from the shower head.

rafe tuts, thrusting his fingers once, curving them slightly to toy with the spongey sweet spot inside you that has your cunt tightly clenching at his fingers, pulling them in deeper, “i don’t know baby… doesn’t seem like you really want it…”

he begins to slowly pull his fingers from inside you, but your hand flys to his, keeping his hand in place, keeping his fingers buried inside you, “rafe, please! need you so fucking bad”

you hear him chuckle, removing your hand from his wrist. he begins thrusting his fingers quickly, the squelching sounds of your pussy and your moans bouncing off the shower walls.

you feel your belly tightening, your orgasm threatening to burst from you when the sound of the locker room door opens. rafe’s free hand flys to your mouth, muffling your moans.

“cameron? you still here?”

rafe sighs when he hears his coaches voice, but he doesn’t stop his fingers, pushing them slowly in and out of you, an amused smirk on his lips when he feels you bite down on his palm to keep yourself from moaning.

“uh, yeah, just wanted a quick shower before i headed out”

his coaches footsteps approaching makes your heart begin to thump rapidly in your chest, the thrill of possibly being caught making you grow wetter.

“hell of a game you had tonight, i expect that type of energy from you in the playoffs”

rafe clears his throat, “thank you coach, you know i’ll give my all in that playoff game, don’t you worry”

your eyes roll into the back of your skull, chest tightening when rafe curves his fingers again, toying at your gspot. cocky son of a bitch was getting off on this, was enjoying making you squirm when his coach was only a few feet away.

“i know you will son. alright, well i’m headed out, see you at practice tomorrow. ten am sharp, don’t be late!”

“yes sir”

his coaches footsteps recede, the sound of the door closing making rafe drop his hand from your mouth, “i knew you were a fucking slut, fuck that was hot. i think you got more turned on at the idea of him catching us, didn’t you baby?”

rafe’s words followed by the slow and sensual thrusts of his fingers send you flying over the edge, your orgasm bursting from you in leg shaking euphoria.

rafe’s fingers fuck you through your high before slowly pulling them from you. he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your arousal from them, a satisfied groan falling from him when he tastes you on his tongue.

he wastes no time grasping his thick cock in his hand, pumping himself a few times before he begins sliding his thick head through your folds.

you squirm, pushing your ass out further, his tip pushing into you slightly, before he pulls it back out.

“rafe!” you whine, your pussy aching to be stretched by his thick cock.

you gasp loudly, your hands slightly sliding down the wall when he shoves himself inside you, his cock stretching you out, making you walls tightly squeeze him.

“fuck, feels so good baby, so fucking wet and tight. don’t think i’ll last long if you keep squeezin’ me like that”

you’re moaning loudly, your tits bouncing with each snap of rafe’s hips. he wraps an arm around your waist, fingertips dragging down your bare stomach to your clit. he rubs slow circles around your puffy, sensitive clit, pulling more whines and whimpers from you.

you throw your head back, back arched as you begin moving your hips in sync with his, meeting each of his thrusts, pushing him further inside you.

“shit! ‘m gonna cum baby!” rafe groans, his fingers sloppily rubbing at your clit while he continues his harsh thrusts.

he runs his hand up your body, wrapping it around your throat and pulling your back flush into his front. he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you moan.

you feel his thrusts growing sloppy, your walls tightly clenching around him, trying to milk him dry. he breaks the kiss, his face burying into the crook of your neck as his dick twitches, his hot cum filling you up.

his teeth nip at the skin of your neck, raspy curses and groans falling from his lips as he continues fucking into you, trying to help you reach your second orgasm of the night.

“c’mon baby, cum all over daddy’s cock, let me have it”

“fuck fuck fuck, rafe! ‘m cumming!”

the band snaps, your second orgasm rushing from you and soaking rafe’s cock.

you fall limp, his arms the only thing keeping you upright. he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your neck and slowly pulling himself from inside you.

“took me so well baby, did such a good job. c’mon let’s get you home and in bed, okay?”

you slowly nod your head, exhaustion hitting you hard, “i love you, rafe” you breathe out, voice soft and weak as you try and catch your breath.

he quickly turns off the shower, grabbing the two of you some towels from a shelf and wrapping yours around your body, “i love you too sweet girl, now let’s get you home”

RAFE TAGLIST: @ivy-34 @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @sierraluvz @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @daivny @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @inluvwithmorales @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @personalfavsthatarerandom

rafe masterlist | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #football au #football player!rafe #cheerleader!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe smut #college au #drew starkey

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luveline · 5 months

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anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!

Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break?

You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day.

“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately.

“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed.

“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.”

“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks.

“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks.

“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.

“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.”

“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly.

You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen.

“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing..

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks.

“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.”

What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look.

When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.

“Do you really have a motorcycle?”

You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.”

“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”

“Well, it's not mine.”

He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—

“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?”

“Don't do that,” he says.

“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.”

“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.”

You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?”

Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity.

You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before.

“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him.

“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask.

Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–”

“Yeah? Anything good?”

Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #ficlet #oneshot #college au #best friends to lovers #fluff #eddie has a terrible crush #steve is oblivious #platonic stobin #a little angst #misunderstanding #they're all besties #eddie writes songs about steve #secret crush #and they were roommates

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

Blessing

Pairing- Ao'nung x Sully!reader

Summary- You are the twin sister of Lo'ak who is the complete opposite of each other, and when you move with the Metkayina you caught someones eye.

A/N- This was a request

You are the complete opposite of your twin brother, his was rambunctious you were always calm, he was rebellious you were obedient somewhat. He wanted to fight you wanted to collect plants make medicine help to heal people. But somehow you fit each other just right, he was your best friend as you were his.

One time Lo'ak got into major trouble and at communal dinner someone made a joke calling you "the better twin." And it irked you to the bone. "That's not funny." You would say before returning to your previous conversation. And with all of this your father was very protective sometimes you think it's because he sees your Uncle Tommy in you doesn't wanna lose you how he lost Tommy, he never does talk about your uncle but you can just feel it.

When you had to move to the Metkayina clan it was hard but you tried your best to be happy. And when you got there it was nothing like you expected. They said you had demon blood, that hurt but you deflected it as much as you could. And then there was Ao'nung, when he first saw you he thought that his heart was going to explode in his chest your beauty was undeniable. But he was a big teaser at you and your siblings but his sister smacked some sense into him.

He would leave flirty remarks, "Looking good Y/N." When you would swim or, "How's my favorite forest girly doing." He would say or your personal favorite, "Pretty girl." and you would just reply kindly, with a "Thank you Ao'nung." Or a small, "I am fine how are you." and that just wrapped him into your love spell deeper.

Then he started to help you with things, even when you didn't need it. He just wanted a reason to be close with you. You thought he was just being helpful, but sometimes you couldn't help but get butterflies in your stomach when his hand would graze yours when lifting something into the docks, or when he addressed you as pretty girl and it drove you insane.

And now he here he was looking at his reflection making sure his hair was right before he went to talk to your father, Jake Sully. The Toruk Makto. Hell yeah he was scared but it would all be worth it. He walked into your families mauri only Jake was there sharpening his dagger. Ao'nung gulped a wad of saliva. His palms were sweaty and sweat threatened to spill all over his body.

He took a deep breath composing himself. "Hello Jake." Ao'nung spoke bringing his fingers from his forehead outward towards Jake as a sign of respect. "Ao'nung." Jake spoke suspiciously. "If you are looking for any of my kids I do not know except Y/N she's out collecting pearls for her little sister." He said sighing afterwards.

"No sir I just came to ask you something important." Ao'nung said Jake stood up at the seriousness in the younger males voice. "Yes of course what is it." Jake said. "I would like to ask for your blessing to court your daughter." Ao'nung spoke quickly and swiftly. And it seemed all the color drained from Jake's face. "M-my d-daughter Kiri?!?" Jake said running his hands over his face distraught. "No! Not Kiri, Y/N." Ao'nung corrected the male.

Jake turns to him, protective dad overload. And just before he could speak you walked in. "Hello fathe- Ao'nung, hey." You say indigo painting your face as Ao'nung says hello doing the forehead motion to you as he did to Jake, but Jake could tell he was flirting, right in front of him!

Jake looks at the interaction dread filling him. "What are you doing here?" You ask softly putting a bag filled with pearls down looking at him. "Oh I was just asking your father," Ao'nung took a deep breath once again before telling him he was asking for your father blessing. "His blessing to court you." He said turning back to his father.

A sense of excitement and happiness could be felt anyone in a ten foot radius of you. You looked at your father huge smile plastered on your face shaking your head up and down, yes. Your father took one deep breath and closed his eyes before he spoke, "Yes, you have my blessing." Jake said and Ao'nung turned to you and gave you a smile just as big as yours. "But," your dad said making you turn your attention to him. "You don't go anywhere alone I was a teenager not long ago I know what's going through that pea sized brain and I am not, repeat not having a baby under this roof, so help me god I will kill yo-" "Dad!" You yell stopping the threats being thrown at a shocked Ao'nung.

Oh and, when your brothers found out you were being courted all hell broke loose. "How could you let my baby sister be courted but that fish boy!" Neteyam spoke. "I am not a baby." You say as you finish separating fruits as your mother instructed you to. "I refuse to be brothers with that fish." Lo'ak said shaking his head. "I'm not happy about it either but if he makes her happy then let it be." Your father said to them. "Oh you are acting like children." You say throwing a price of fruit at your father.

#avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader #aonung avatar #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung #avatar x sully!reader #sully!reader

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marvellous1917 · 9 months

Text

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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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mob!bucky #mob!au #tattoo artist!reader

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