#sweetheart two sharks is two sharks

[paperultra]

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”

[strawberrysturniolo]

goal // hockey!chris

summary: your boyfriend gets in a fight during his hockey game

part two

“SHIT!” I scream as the opposing team launches the puck into the goal. With some miracle, it’s pulled to the side goalpost, keeping the score at 2-2. 

I relax in my seat with my best friend sitting next to me, her tension releasing just as much as mine, maybe more, considering her boyfriend is the goalie. 

I watch as my boyfriend skates back onto the ice, tapping his stick three times to get my attention. 

I love you. 

I smile at him, watching as he races across the ice and steals the puck from his opponent. 

In retaliation, that player slams Chris into the boards in front of me. My eyes widen at the sound of the impact, but my boyfriend skates backwards unscathed. 

“We still on for dinner tonight?” he asks me in the middle of his game. 

I nod, trying my best not to distract him. 

We met when my best friend took me to her boyfriend's hockey banquet. It was hard not to be captivated by Chris. He checked all the right boxes and captured my attention with ease. I wanted to know everything about him.

We talked the whole night, then hung out in groups until we finally had the courage to go on a proper date. He kissed my cheek when he dropped me off at my apartment across our college campus, a complete sweetheart in the palm of my hands. 

We started dating after a few months, taking everything really slow, especially with the chaos of our own college schedules and him having to travel for his games. 

Chris skates next to his brothers, Sturniolo stitched into three jerseys standing next to each other as their coach speaks with them during their timeout. 

I look at Chris’ hand, sticking out behind him. He has his hand out with his middle and ring finger down, signing I love you.

“You guys are just too cute, aren’t you?” my best friend teases me. 

My cheeks burn red, a smile on my face that I can’t shake off. 

A power play is set up right next to where we’re sitting. I always find this so interesting. I can hear everything the players say to each other. 

“Who’s little girlfriend is there in the green?” someone says. 

I know they’re talking about me, so I immediately scan Chris’ face to see what he says. He doesn’t respond, but his jaw is locked and his eyes are burning into the other player. 

I watch Chris’ brother, Matt, charge into our view, stealing the puck away and attempting to shoot. It’s another lost cause. This goalie has saved the last 10 shots. 

“Oh, Jesus,” my friend groans. “Look at Chris.”

I scan the ice for my boyfriend, finding the number 3 and following his every move. He follows the player with the last name Hart like a shark. I can’t hear anything, but I can see the anger on Chris’ face, and the humor on Hart’s. Finally, I watch Chris hit his breaking point. 

With seven minutes left in the game, Chris races across the ice to Hart, despite the fact that his other brother, Nick, is already playing defense on him. Chris slides in front of his brother, cross-checking Hart. 

“Are you kidding me?!” I hear a shout from behind me. 

Eventually, the area around us erupts in cheers. Students from our school rise on their feet, jumping up and down, cheering on Chris as he picks a fight. 

Sticks are thrown, and the referees stand in shock as Chris lays sprawled on top of Hart, regaining his balance before throwing punches at his helmet. 

My heart is pounding, but I know better than to react and embarrass him. He knows how to be safe on the ice, and he knows his limits way better than I do. Not to mention, everyone loves Chris. Our school gathers just for him and his brothers, cheering them on at every game. The last thing I want is to embarrass him or his reputation. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Chris roars, and at that, the referees finally get involved. It’s useless. While two referees hold onto him, another player from the opposing team runs up to defend Hart, throwing a punch at Chris’ jaw. 

“Hey!” I find myself jumping up and yelling. I watch as the blood starts to pour from Chris’ nose, and now that there’s blood involved, I feel every bit of anxiety bubbling up in my chest. “Someone do something!”

Chris continues to get nailed, slurring out profanities as he expresses his anger. 

“Do NOT talk about her!” he screams one last time as he’s dragged off the ice, his brothers eyeing down everyone else in case it’s their turn to throw a punch. 

“Christopher Sturniolo, five minute penalty for fighting,” an announcer says over the speaker, repeating the same spiel for Hart. 

I grab my bag and stand from the bleachers. “I’m gonna go meet him outside the locker room.”

I say goodbye to everyone and head to the locker room, wanting to know more about this fight, but more importantly, that he’s okay. 

About 20 minutes later I see Chris walking with his coach, his nose mixed with some fresh and some dried blood. When his coach notices me standing outside of the locker room, picking at my fingers, he says, “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice.”

Chris nods, walking right past me and into the locker room. I’ve already seen everyone else leave, so I know it’s safe to go in, but seeing that he completely ignored me, I don’t think a few guys in there would be enough to keep me from entering. 

“So you’re just picking fights and ignoring me now?” I scoff. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, tearing his padding off and shoving it into his hockey bag. 

I watch as he pulls his shirt off, his toned back facing me. 

I find myself becoming embarrassingly distracted and forgetting what I’m actually in here for.

“Do you still want dinner?” I ask quietly, my voice timid. 

Chris sighs and places his hands on the sides of his locker, the muscles in his back tensing. “Where do you want to go?”

I shrug even though I know he can’t see me. It’s like I’m too nervous to say anything in case he gets mad at me over something that happened during the game. 

When I don’t answer, he turns around, finding nothing but concern painted all over my face. 

He sighs again, this time one that tells me that he’s sorry without actually saying it. His arms wrap around me, his bare chest bracing my clothed one. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my hair as he kisses my head. 

“What happened?” 

He breathes out a laugh, tossing his shirt into his locker. “Johnny Hart happened, that piece of shit.” 

I don’t ask for more information. The dam has now broken and I know the water carrying the information is going to come flooding in. 

“He’s known for being a top tier trash talker, but it takes it way too fucking far,” he tells me. “I mean, talking about my family, my girlfriend–Fuck!”

I flinch at the sound of him shouting. “What did he say about me?”

He shakes his head. 

“Tell me,” I plead. 

“No!” he shouts again. “God, just– Go wait outside. I’ll be out in a minute and we can go get something to eat.”

“I want to know what he said!” 

“He’s a dick! Go wait outside,” he demands, but my feet are planted to the floor. I refuse to back down. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“Yes!” I argue. 

“Fine!” he gives in. He takes a deep breath. “He was just saying disgusting things about you the whole time. Talking about your legs, how he wanted to see what you had under your pants.” I watch as his jaw tightens again. “He said he wanted to see if he could make you wetter than I can. That he would take you after the game and pin you against his car… Is that enough for you?”

I can see his face turning red, his anger bleeding out of him. It’s at this moment that I can also see that his face is still a bloody mess, and that matters more to me than what some idiot on the other team has to say about me. 

Without a word, I walk to the sinks, grab a rag that has been folded up and get it damp with warm water. I motion for Chris to sit down on a bench in front of his locker, and when he does, I start gently dabbing his mouth with the rag. 

He gives me a soft smile, and as cute as that is, my focus is on his bloody teeth. 

“Oh, baby,” I mumble. I find a bottle of water buried in his bag so he can rinse his mouth, and continue cleaning his face. “Are your hands okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Had my gloves on.” 

I nod, remaining silent as I wipe the blood from his mouth and give him somewhere to spit the bloody water. 

“Coach is pissed,” he laughs lightly. 

“I’m not surprised.”

“He was already getting on me about my grades, and with this… I gotta get it together or he’s benching me.”

We both know that his coach will fight anyone to make sure Chris stays on the starting team. He’s the best player this college has seen in years.

“I can tutor you again,” I offer. “I have time before work on Friday’s.”

He shakes his head at me. “I don’t want to put that on you.” 

“I wouldn’t have offered if it would have been an inconvenience.”

He nods, then rests his hands on my waist, eventually pulling my wrists down to remove my hands from his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. 

“I know.”

“I just…” his voice trails off. “I can’t stand it when they do that shit. I know you’re a catch because… come on,” he motions his hands at me, making me laugh. “I just can’t sit there and pretend like I’m not bothered by it.” 

“I get it,” I assure him, trying to relieve the part of him that feels like he’s letting people down. “Let’s just get those grades up and try to tone back on the fighting, okay?”

He nods, this time smiling with a lot less blood in his teeth. He pulls me down to his level, resting me on his lap before holding my cheeks and kissing me gently. “I love you.”

A smile grows on my face. “I love you more.”

His eyes go wide. “Enough to fight Hart’s girlfriend for me?”

I let out a short laugh. “Let’s go get something to eat.” 

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[xiao-come-home]

Some more pre-release Boothill brainrot because I'm struggling,, psst, there's a part 2 from a boothil lover for boothill lovers

Boothill still tries to woo you and flirt with you in bars or clubs, even if you're together god knows how long.

He sits next to you, eyeing you from time to time; he finishes drinking the cold beverage and stands up, placing his hat on the seat and moving in between the seats, closer to you. "Ya come here often, sweetheart?" he flashes his signature shark smile at you, leaning on the bar counter with his elbows, "Well, aren't you a pretty little thing? A cowboy like me can't let a sweet pea like you go home alone at night," boothill tilts his head slightly, moving his bangs and revealing his other eye - his silver eyes glimmer with playfulness, not long before sending you a wink.

"Boothill, we've been married for 5 years."

Boothill is probably able to drink more than a normal human (canon pls don't disappoint me), so when it gets a little too much, he's straight up caging you between him and the bar counter with his arms on either side and making out with you. He does NOT care. And the bartender better not care either.

Boothill is your mobile electricity outlet, so you can pretty much always charge your phone. Probably not a pleasant experience for him, but sometimes you just have to do sacrifices for love. (💀)

It might be a challenge to sometimes differentiate whether Boothill says genuine pet names or wants to playfully throw a jab at you, since his synesthesia beacon is acting up. You're his sweetheart, but that goddamn fly that kept bothering him for two days straight is too... Hmm.

[peachesofteal]

Light On Simon Riley/female reader (mama) & Emmaline Valentine's Day special This was heavily requested when I was still writing for these three. Light On is finished, but holidays make me sentimental. Consider this a little treat for Valentine's Day

The aquarium is a zoo.

Once, the throngs of people, masses of children and parents swirling around and screaming, running and jumping all over the place would make him uneasy, unsettle him, drive him back to his apartment, to the dark.

Once.

Now, he navigates it well. Confidently. He's here with his family, his girls. He even enjoys it, taking in all the tanks, the fish, the stingrays, the sharks, and he's proud, when Emma manages to screech out the word fish here and there, giving her positive encouragement, sliding the cloth mask down to place a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He grounds himself with one hand on the small of your back, the other pushing an empty stroller. Having you close, within arm's reach, numbs the anxiety constantly buzzing in the back of his mind, and he tucks you into his side every time you'll let him. Emmaline occasionally peers at him over your shoulder, or when he's not immediately in her line of sight, whips her head back and forth, trying to figure out where he's gone.

"'m right here." He soothes, rubbing her back. "Right here, baby girl." You roll your eyes, smile sweet for him, for her, and lean forward, smacking a big kiss on her cheek before pointing at the curved glass of the tank.

"Look, Emma!" A group of jellyfish drift weightlessly in the middle of the room, and he urges the two of you forward so she can see, unbothered by the five and six year olds that jostle one another around his legs. She shrieks with glee, giggling like mad when she smacks her hand against the glass as hard as she can, earning her an immediate, soft redirection from you.

"Gentle, baby. Gentle." Her little brow furrows, frustrated, and she bobbles in your arms, turning again to find him. He's about to reach for her, give your back a break, when she starts to babble, high pitched sounds gurgling into a jumble of words and-

"Dada." Your eyes go round. "Dadadada..."

Simon's heart breaks open inside his chest, torrent of emotion crashing over him, washing him away in the wake. A palm claps over your mouth, dropped open in shock, and he sees joy in your eyes, joy and pain, the presence of a ghost still haunting your happiness, like one haunts his.

"Here, uh." you lift her into his arms, and he stares down at her sweet, cherub face, cheeks swelling with an almost toothless smile, tiny fingers stretching for his mask.

"Dada!" He doesn't answer, his silence frustrating, and she grows more demanding, happy pitch changing into a growl of dissatisfaction. "Dada, dada!"

"Shhhh, hey. It's okay." He bounces, cuddling her close. "I'm here." You stand back, expression heavy with grief, light with happiness, and he locks eyes with you.

He doesn't need to speak, to ask.

Are you okay? Are you okay with this?

Your hands clasp together, and you nod.

After a beat, he clears his throat. "How did she..."

"I might have been calling you dada, at home, when I refer to you, you know?" You're wearing the mask of a million emotions, embarrassment and shame, sadness, and elation. They all mix together to bring more tears to your eyes, and you laugh uneasily as you wipe them. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know how to feel, about her saying it, and I didn't ask you, either. It's... it's, I,-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know. It's okay." He steps close, Emmaline chewing on the edge of his mask, burrowed in his chest. His forehead taps yours, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to thank you, for this gift, this love, this life you've given him, so all he can say is the three words he says all the time, the three words he whispers into your skin at night, the three words he gives Emma when he tucks her into bed. "I love you." Your fingers hold tight to his, watery smile lighting up the entire room.

"We love you too."

[celestialscatterbrain]

1. Natal Chart Observations

1. Libra Moon: decision paralysis that comes from feeling two contradicting ways about an issue. “I want my cake but I want to eat it too.” I feel like libra moons are the most sentimental of the air moon signs. Libra moons can constantly weigh out the pros and cons for every emotion you feel. “I want to do this but I don’t want to deal with how messy it’ll make things.” When libra moons are feeling a little lost, they can over-schedule themselves and their commitments to friends to avoid thinking about overly-vulnerable feelings. There is zero tolerance for imbalance in relationships. Poor behavior from a partner will be met with matched behavior to tip the scales back to a balanced one, even if the overall locational of the scale is descending into negativity. “You get what you give” mentality. Libra moons can be keen on the idea of karma. “Come to me with sweetness, or don’t come to me at all.” Daydreaming about romance is a relaxing way to pass time. Before maturity, libra moons might suffer from social anxieties when they find themselves in group settings where there isn’t a cohesive vibe. If someone around a libra moon doesn’t look like they are having a good time, it subconsciously makes it difficult for a libra moon to relax. The libra moon will then play the role of a diplomat or host/hostess to ensure the vibes equalize to restore their peace.

2. Mars in the 10th house: these natives are always making money. They are known for their side hustles too. They are always looking for new ways to make money and I feel like they are good at getting clientele. They will get their hands dirty for their job. For a man, this can point to a “blue collar ‘manly’ job.” I noticed 10H mars can be pretty generous with their money and services, but feel extremely terrible about getting help from others. If these natives aren’t confident where they are in their career or skill set(s), I noticed that they are likely to undersell themselves or undercharge for their services/time. It can also point to people in the workplace as perceiving the 10H mars person to be brash and outspoken. The authority figures in their career can feel a sense of competition with the 10H mars person, or wants to humble them in some way. I feel like it’s really easy for them to get good jobs or climb up the ladder when they do things the right way. They get impatient when they aren’t growing in their careers as fast as they want to. “Why am I not a millionaire yet.” They work hard for what they want and are very ambitious once they find their niche. I feel like these are often people who can find jobs that don’t necessarily need a degree. Their career mistakes feel explosive. They can be seen as “sharks” in their fields because they go in for the attack. They like to be the best and the most competent at what they do, and want their colleagues to see them as competition. “I’m the best and no one will tell me otherwise.” They can be known for being assertive and extremely determined in meeting their goals. They will work themselves to the core and utilize all their energy towards elevating themselves career and reputation wise.

3. Mars in the 1st House: These people might often be noticed for their bodies. They might be seen as someone you shouldn’t mess around with. They look athletic. Maybe they are known for fitness or for being athletic. These natives can be associated with the military, and probably look incredible in their uniforms. This is a man-eater or womanizer placement, for sure. “I get what I want when I want it.” They look like they have a rough exterior, even if they are sweethearts. They can be into martial arts. Commanding presence. They can make wonderful personal trainers. Regardless of gender, they can come off as being comfortable with their masculine energy. Reds look great on them. They might have thick eyebrows and a nice jawline. They look attractive when they are angry. They know how to make someone feel sexy. They have people chasing them or falling for them fast.

4. Pisces and 12th house placements: these people have no problem ghosting you. Pisces placements and 12H placements are always made out to be innocent and naive, but they are attracted to people and situations that have something a little “bad” about them. Savior complex. They can go through feelings where they feel detached from social settings and those they love, where they cannot fully escape the role of observer. They will always be able to fully escape into their internal landscape and get consumed by it— but it seems as though no matter how hard they try, they can’t have that same presence in the material world. This can lead to frustrating feelings of disconnection from the world and people around them. They can be smiling and staring off, but you will never fully know what they are thinking. They can make people really curious about them, because their thoughts always catch you off guard. Having an existential crisis on the daily. Casual things might have a bigger internal meaning to them that others might not always understand. We can find plenty of people attractive, but if the spark isn’t felt in the soul and doesn’t pique a deep curiosity, we will get bored and swim away. Liking people who are a bit “mean and dark” but wanting them to be sweet and soft with you. Using music to paint your daydreams, or to escape. Finding music that relates almost entirely to whatever they have on their mind feels like striking gold. They can like someone just for having the same interests as them. Feeling like a ghost in a flesh suit. Enigmatic. Can embody different vibes and personas depending on who they are around. They are sensitive and can adapt to the situations at hand. Too much self awareness can lock them in their heads. “I only jump into waters with the depth of an abyss.” Laying down for hours just to daydream and process your thoughts. Long baths feel like therapy. Moderation isn’t in our vocabulary. We love what we like, and we want to get lost in what we love. Not being able to properly process your day or interactions until you’re alone and can replay them in isolation.

5. Taurus Placements: I noticed Taurus moon women get spoiled financially by their partners. The type for their partners to say “don’t worry, I’ll work and you can be at home,” or that being their partners goal at a point. I noticed Taurus placements can enjoy the occasional shoplifting. They are not going to compromise their comfort, and if you come after that it will be met with intense stubbornness. They can seem nonchalant about a lot of things, but can be extremely unwavering in their opinions on certain things. In some cases, they can have strange eating habits or relationship to food. Thankfully, the Tauruses I’ve been around don’t project that on those around them. It’s more internal from what I’ve noticed, and they can enjoy feeding those they love and care for. They can have great taste in food. They love sensual vices and sex. They look great with pearls. They master an aesthetic and can stick to it. They are fiercely protective of those they love. They can be lazy at their worst and will not want to do anything that requires too much effort. They can be impressively good at couponing. Making money from home is the ideal setup for them. They will spoil their loved ones too, and can be great gift givers. They don’t cheap out with presents for their loved ones. They get much enjoyment from decorating their spaces and hosting their loved ones. They can be prone to overthinking and some may obsessive behaviors or crippling anxiety as well. They can honestly make the best scammers, as terrible as that sounds. They can sell someone a dream and make it sound beautiful, but can be lying through their teeth. Their jealousies can sometimes come from a place of vanity. Watch out for envying others, and appreciate your own beauty. They can focus so much on the beauty around them they forget about their own. They can be the image of beauty and grace, or strive deeply for that. They have pretty and soothing voices. Taurus placements can easily be the funniest person you know when they are in a joyful mood. I also noticed Taurus placements are wonderful at finding vintage pieces and re-selling them!

-D

[6esiree]

More Than Just A Sugar Baby Pt. 2

Summary: Imagine you’re Vox’s and Adam’s sugar baby and one of you start’s to develop feelings?

Warnings: NSFW, AFAB reader, penetration, rubbing, swearing, if you squint there’s a bit of angst in Adam’s part. Heaven bucks are void in Hell so he just protects you from the loan sharks. Sorry, I’m a sinner thru and thru. Anyway, MINORS DO NOT READ!!!

Vox:

A doll like you didn’t belong in the porn industry—that’s what Vox told you when you asked for Valentino. But he only offered you financial salvation to get back at the moth, tired of his on and off relationship with him. How could you not accept, though, especially when porn had been your last resort? When you took Vox’s hand, he never anticipated that your arrangement would turn into something more than a simple act of revenge, but that was entirely his fault.

“Always such a good girl for me—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Vox had your legs folded against your chest, your eyes squeezed shut as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace, the room filled with the filthy sound of your squelching cunt. You let out a loud whine as his fingers found your swollen clit, trying to coax another orgasm out of you. One, two, three, four—you counted in your head, milking his cock for what might have been the fifth time that night, the man clearly pent up.

“Such a greedy little—” Vox said, his screen buffering, “—cunt.”

He was so, so close, his thrusts growing sloppier with every second. You reached out and grabbed Vox’s shoulders, bringing him in for a kiss, but then Valentino’s contact popped up on his screen. “Shit, Val’s calling…again,” You groaned, falling back onto the mattress in defeat. The moth had called Vox about, what, several times already? It was really starting to turn you off.

“Decline it, I’m—fuck!—about to finish,” Vox said, sighing in relief as you swiped your finger across his screen. “That’s better—don’t want to cum to that fucker’s contact.”

You understood his reaction, made aware of the pair’s history when Vox eventually opened up to you. But as far as you knew, whatever love they had for each other was dead. Well, at least on Vox’s end, because Valentino was still pestering him. “Yeah, I bet,” You said before interrupting yourself with a moan, the head of his cock hitting into that velvety spot inside of you.

“Val found out about you,” Vox suddenly said, catching you off guard. “He pissed me off, so I told him that I didn’t need him anymore because I had you.”

You blinked, clearly confused. Why would Valentino care if Vox had a sugar baby? Relationships like that were purely transactional, a mutual agreement with no feelings involved. Unless Vox was suggesting that he told him that you two were a thing—no, that couldn’t be. You were a nobody compared to the man on top of you, so why would Valentino care?

“I don’t get it,” You started, your brows knitted together. “Why would Val care about me when I’m just…you know, nothing serious?”

Throughout the whole time, Vox never let up on fucking you, but he did slow down his pace and abandon your clit with your question. A funny feeling stirred in your chest as he peered down at you with an unreadable expression, seemingly debating his response. But then Vox released your legs, your throat bobbing in anticipation as he grabbed ahold of your jaw, making you look at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, you seriously can’t be that dull,” Vox said, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I just didn’t want to assume, that’s all,” You stammered, looking everywhere but at him. “So, uh, are you going to want me to pretend as if we’re a thing from now on?”

“Pretend?” Vox grunted, burying his cock deep inside of your cunt as he leaned into you. “Wouldn’t it be better if it were real?”

The man was a powerful and influential overlord, so you would be set for eternity, but you also came to know him more intimately as the time passed by. He treated you pretty great with your arrangement, so surely he’d be better as a partner, right? “I—yes?” You said, your eyes fluttering shut when he rolled his hips, feeling rewarded for your response. “That’s my girl,” Vox said, his cock pulsating inside of your cunt.

“Your girl,” You repeated, unable to believe the turn of events, but you weren’t complaining.

Vox hummed, leaning down to give you that kiss you had tried to give him earlier, his hand relaxing against your jaw. “How about we take a shower after this, hm?” He spoke against your lips, his eyes flitting down to see your cunt swallowing his cock, your juices dripping down your thigh. “You won’t electrocute me?” You joked. It was funny until Vox pulled out of you dragged you off the bed by your ankles, telling you “Why don’t we find out, sweetheart?” as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom.

Adam:

For an Angel, you found Adam to be pretty selfish and egotistical, saving you from the loan sharks pursuing you during the extermination in exchange for the ‘privilege of getting fucked by the first man alive.’ You only agreed because you needed an easy way out of your situation. When you nodded your head, he shoved his tongue down your throat, one hand on your breast while the other slithered past the waistband of your panties, whatever happened afterwards lost within a random sinner’s apartment.

“Fuck, babe. I just got here and you’re already so wet.”

Your face was pushed into your pillow, Adam’s chest slack against your back while he entered you from behind, your cunt eagerly swallowing every inch of his cock. He groaned into your shoulder, the edge of his mask digging into your skin, but the way he slowly massaged your clit as he bottomed out compensated for the slight discomfort it caused you.

Adam wasn’t usually this…attentive, his movements quick and sloppy as he tried to make the most out of your little meetings. But tonight, he was being gentle with you, seemingly focused on your pleasure by the way he slowly started to thrust into you, his free hand toying with your nipple. Your cunt fluttered around him, overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

“You like that?” Adam rasped into your ear, goosebumps littering your skin at the sound of his voice. “What about this, huh?” He continued, rolling the hardened bud in between his fingers.

You tried to answer him, you really did, but you were only able to muster a moan as he pulled out of you completely, the head of his cock pushing past your slick folds and back into your hole with a slow, hard thrust. “Shit, well, I guess that’s good enough,” Adam chuckled, your face flushing in embarrassment. “Shut up,” You said, but then he squeezed your nipple, making you yelp.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, bitch,” Adam grunted, lifting himself from your back, a whine escaping your throat as his hands moved to your hips.

“Call me a bitch one more time and the deal is over,” You said, glaring at him from over your shoulder, but you didn’t actually mean it.

“I don’t think that’s in your best interest, babe,” Adam said, picking up the pace and finally fucking you properly. “I’m the one who’s keeping you alive with every extermination—isn’t that just fucking ironic?”

The sound of skin slapping against skin enveloped your room, including your cries and his groans of pleasure. You constantly thanked Charlie for making the walls thick, Adam driven by the fact that he was doing something so…forbidden. But that wasn’t the only thing—he had developed a soft spot for you, feeling a distant ache in his chest whenever he heard the clock tower ring, his cue to leave.

“I can—ah, fuck, right there!—take care of myself just fine,” You said, his thrusts growing more unforgiving. “Sinners can’t truly kill each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but you can still feel pain,” Adam said, pulling out of you completely, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing.

Before you could think about asking him why he had stopped, Adam flipped you onto your back, your eyes widening as you stared back into his face, his mask nowhere to be seen. He rarely ever took it off, so of course you were surprised. “Come on, baby, I can take care of you better,” Adam said, the head of his cock brushing against your clit as he leaned in to kiss you—now that was a first, but you accepted it anyway.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips glided against yours, the stubble on his chin scratching at your skin, but you couldn’t care less. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling your bodies together by grabbing onto where his wings connected to his back, swallowing the yelp that escaped his throat. Apparently, they were sensitive, because he suddenly plunged his cock back into you.

“Adam! Fuck, slow down!” You cried out, your grip on his wings tightening.

“You’re so lucky I can’t impregnate you,” Adam panted, putting his forehead against yours. “Fuck, why do you have to be a stupid fucking sinner?” He added, sounding disappointed. “You don’t belong here—you should be up in Heaven, with me.”

“You don’t—what?” You said, slightly taken aback. You thought Adam had told you that he could take better care of you just to continue your arrangement, but no, there was more to it. “You don’t actually mean that, Adam.”

“Is it really hard to believe that someone like me wants more than just a simple fuck?” Adam said, sounding pained, but he still reached down to massage your clit to help you finish alongside him. “I guess that’s my fault, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” You said, and you would have offered him more words if your orgasm hadn’t hit you. “Fuck—‘m so sorry.”

Adam thrusted into you one last time, his hips stilling as he emptied himself deep inside of your fluttering cunt with a heavy sigh, his fingers withdrawing from you. “Don’t be, babe,” he said before capturing your lips with another kiss. As much as you enjoyed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where you stood with Adam—until he told you that he’d figure out a way to see you more often, and not just for sex.

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Rain is Always Gonna Come if You're Standing With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. This one took me approximately 100 years to finish because school is eating me alive. This one is based on Peace from folklore, which is an underrated song, in my opinion.

Word count: 12.3k

Warnings: Bucky's negative self image, harassment, slight reader injury, people being assholes

"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, doll-” Bucky said as you swiped the dirty dishes from the table. He made a grab for them, but his enhanced speed was no match for you. You expertly evaded his capture, slipping away from his grasp with almost no effort. You knew him too well, knew his movement patterns and habits. Anticipating his every move was easy. With a cocky laugh, you turned on your heel and headed for the sink. 

“Sweetheart, really,” he called after you, “I’ll clean up.”

“But you made breakfast.” You set the two bowls that once held yogurt, fruit, and granola in the sink and turned on the water. “It’s only fair that I do the dishes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a laugh, “that wasn’t breakfast, baby. It was just a… a morning snack.” In only a few long strides, he met you at the sink. His large hands snatched yours and pulled them to his broad chest, halting your efforts to clean.

You cocked your head to the side, “A morning snack, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know we’re going out for breakfast, but I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He added a fraction of extra pressure to your hands, pulling them closer against his body. “I gotta take care of my girl.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you placed a quick peck to his lips. “And because you are so thoughtful and sweet, let me do the dishes.” With a playful tug, you tried to free your hands from his grasp. But Bucky held firm. 

He shook his head, “Nope. Not gonna happen.” Suddenly, he released your hands, spun you around, and landed a light slap to your ass; it happened so fast it left you giggling. “You go get dressed, I’ll take care of it.”

Your giggly “sir, yes, sir” floated down the hall as you marched toward the bedroom. This was to be the perfect day. A trip to your favorite bookstore, followed by what you swore was the best chicken and waffles the city had to offer. After breakfast, the two of you were set to visit the new shark exhibit at the science museum, eat lunch in the park, and grab an ice cream from your favorite spot. 

Bucky planned it all out, ensuring a flawless blueprint. And while you appreciated his attention to detail, you would’ve been happy with a day at home. All you wanted- all you needed- was to spend time with him. 

And time with Bucky was lacking as of late.

He stood at the sink, drying the now clean dishes as emotion overcame him. He couldn’t believe he was here- home- with you. He waited for this day. He hungered and ached for a day without danger, without bloodshed. He waited for a day spent with you. And only you. 

He’d just been so busy lately- too busy. Over the past few months, he’d been dragged around the world more times than he could count. His missions only seemed to grow longer. And each time he got the call from Hill, she sent him farther and farther away. 

He found himself struggling under the weight of severe, mind-numbing exhaustion. Anxiety. His body threatened to give out with each new wound he received, each drop of blood he lost. But he didn’t mind the constant paint or fatigue. What upset him most was spending so much time away from you.

The two of you lived together now. You shared an address, a roof, a bedroom. The universe somehow allowed Bucky to have a home- a safe, comfortable home- with the person he loved most. But he’d spent so little time there lately that he feared it wasn’t his anymore. That he had no claim to the space. He always felt like a mere passerby upon arriving home, like more of a wanderer than a resident. He always had to stop himself from knocking, had to force himself to use his key. 

But who was he to waltz through the front door after being gone for so long? Who was he to act like he owned the place? He thought maybe he didn’t deserve it, this home you shared. And he knew he didn’t deserve you.  

Over the past few months, he spent only a handful of nights at home while you held down the fort. You kept things together. He missed out on so much of your life; what if you didn’t want him to be a part of it anymore?

When Bucky did come home, he always showed up in the middle of the night. Sore. Exhausted. He’d drag his body into the bed you shared and pass out before he even got the chance to pull you close. He’d sleep late, his body too fatigued to wake before the afternoon. When he finally stirred, the two of you did your best to catch up. He wanted to hear every detail of your life, and you his. But without fail, the emotion won. You’d cry together, wrapped in the other’s arms, whispering “I love yous” over and over. 

And without fail, some world ending threat would interrupt. Danger always found a way to force the two of you apart, isolating you from one another. And only twenty-four hours after arriving home, Bucky would leave. Again. 

But over the last few weeks, things started quieting down. It was slow at first. Subtle. But Bucky sensed a shift in the air. He could almost feel the world settling. At first, he thought he’d lost his mind. But Sam, too, felt the earth calming. As did Hill. Whatever sweeping, overwhelming chaos that sent the entire planet into disaster so many months ago seemed to finally lose steam. Fewer calls came in, fewer alerts woke Bucky in the middle of the night. 

And three nights ago, Bucky came home for good. 

The adrenaline that kept him going for so long evaporated as soon as he made it through the front door. The anxiety melted from his body. It was the only thing, he realized, that kept him upright. And with it gone, his body gave out. He crumbled and collapsed to the floor as sweet relief flooded his every cell. He didn’t care that he was hurt, that he was worn out; he was just happy to be home.

But a sharp shriek flooded his system with fear once again. 

You stood frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, just a few feet away, with your hands clasped over your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes. Your chest rose and fell as sharp breaths dragged into your lungs. The sight of his limp body sent you jumping to the worst, most tragic conclusions. 

“No, I’m- I’m okay, baby.”  With great effort, Bucky pulled himself to his feet. 

It was then that you snapped out of your horrified trance. You rushed to Bucky’s side, throwing your arms around his neck, and pressing your body to his. You needed to be as close to him as possible, needed your souls to touch. His arms wound around you and pulled you closer still, desperate for you.

“You’re okay…” you whispered against his neck. It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m home.” 

That night, after he took a shower and let you clean his wounds, he planned this perfect day. And though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he wanted to make things up to you. He wanted to apologize for being gone so long. For breaking your heart over and over and over again. For disappearing. 

He knew how his absences affected you. Knew you worried about him constantly when he was gone. He noticed the way you bit your nails down to the quick. How you picked at your cuticles till they bled. Your tired eyes looked bloodshot, and your bottom lip chewed raw. He knew your anxiety gave you stomach pain and headaches. Knew that you could barely eat or sleep when he was away. 

His constant disappearing act put you through hell. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted- all he ever wanted- was to make you happy. To bring you calm and ease and tranquility. And now that he was home, he swore to himself that he’d give you peace. 

Bucky finished with the dishes and headed into the bedroom, hoping to soak up as much time with you as possible. But just as he made his way into the en suite bathroom, your grumbled, aggravated voice caught his attention.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You let out a deep huff, staring down at your phone with a sharp seriousness.

Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “Everything okay?” 

A look of surprise splashed across your face; you hadn’t heard him come in. “Oh- hey. Yeah. Everything is-” you gestured to your phone, “everything’s fine. My friend just sent me a stupid gossip article.”

“Anything good?” Bucky shot you a wink, knowing damn well he was clueless about the latest reality tv drama. 

“No.” The word carried a hefty weight and fell to the ground with finality.

Bucky clocked your tone, your expression- both struck him as too serious for a gossip rag. His muscles stiffened ever so slightly at sight of your displeasure. 

“Just dumb shit. People writing whole articles over things they have no idea about.” You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone into your pocket. A deep breath acted as a reset to your system, clearing the fog of frustration from your mind. “And it doesn’t even matter, cause we have a perfect day planned.” 

Bucky, too, took a deep breath. He relaxed into a smile and leaned against the door jam. “We sure do, doll.”

He was too accustomed to disaster. Always prepared for the worst. The slightest change in your demeanor sent him hurdling toward the worst possible conclusion. His body was home, but his mind remained stuck in a never-ending battle. 

“I’m just gonna put my shoes on- I’ll be ready when you are.” Bucky stepped away and did his best to shake it off. ‘Everything’s fine, it’s all good’, he said to himself as he laced up his boots. ‘It was just an article about Vanderpump Rules or whatever.’ His palms dragged up and down his thighs, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He learned how to self-regulate, to talk himself down, long ago- before he ever met you. It was his only option back then.

The sound of your footsteps bounding down the hall commanded Bucky’s attention. He snapped out his dimly lit world and stepped into your technicolor atmosphere. A comforting sigh of relief spread though his body as he noticed the bright smile on your face. Any evidence of the upset your gossip rag caused was long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth. 

“Alright, Barnes,” you grabbed your purse from the hook by the door and slung it over your shoulder,  “let’s do this.” 

The warm summer air greeted the two of you as stepped out of your apartment building. The busy city pulsed with the possibilities of a perfect Saturday. People passed by with dogs in tow. Cars honked. Birds sang. And finally, things felt right. Everything fell off its axis when Bucky was gone. The world turned in the wrong direction, the sun set on the opposite side. And only his return could set things properly in motion.

“Okay, to the bookstore,” Bucky weaved his fingers with yours and gave you a gentle tug in the right direction, “here we go!” 

Bucky never had an affinity for going out in public. He didn’t particularly enjoy the crowded sidewalks or busy subways. Throngs of strangers surrounding him from every angle only ever served to put him on edge. But he’d improved. He’d worked through his anxiety and his fears- all to be with you. It seemed, though, that his paranoia threatened to creep in again. After so much time away, surrounded by danger, he found himself scanning every face on the street, assessing possible threats. 

He always experienced some level of recognition in public, sure, but today felt different. Every pair of eyes seemed to bore through him, every mouth whispered his name. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked. 

“You okay?” you pulled Bucky to the side, out of the flow of people, “you seem a little on edge.”

“Oh-” Bucky snaked his hand out of yours, realizing all at once the force of his grip. He watched you rub at the sore spots he created and silently cursed himself. “No, I’m good, I’m okay. I think I’m just-” He eyed the area once more, “I think I’m just being paranoid. Is it me or is everyone staring at me?”

Your heart stopped. “Um, no, I don’t think everyone’s staring,” A casual shrug and a shake of your head punctuated your thought. “I think you’ve got some residual adrenaline or something, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Must be it. I’m sorry about your hand, baby.” He pressed his lips to the indentations his fingers left behind. 

“I’ll survive,” you threw him a wink, “but the kisses help.”

The two of you continued your journey with Bucky’s worries only slightly assuaged. It seemed to him that hundreds of eyes raked over him with each passing second, but he forced his anxiety behind a wall. He wasn’t going to mess up this day with you- he couldn’t. He didn’t know how many chances he had left, and if this was the last one, he couldn’t afford to ruin it.

Block after block passed as you and Bucky got closer to the bookstore. Sure, there was a similar shop only a few minutes from the apartment- but it wasn’t as cute or as special as the one in the village. And Bucky wanted this day perfect. He’d do anything to make you happy. And so, he sucked it up and vowed to make the trek with you, no matter how nervous the public made him. 

But with only a few blocks to go, you pulled him to the side once again.

“Hang on, shoe’s untied,” you attempted to bend down and tie your loose lace, but Bucky refused to let you. He, instead, knelt on the sidewalk and gave your shoe a proper double-knot. 

He stared up at you with adoration in his eyes and a warm smile on his face, “this is almost like a Cinderella moment,” he joked. “Except I-” 

Something caught his eye. 

And before you had the chance to intervene, he was gone. He forced his way past cyclists and families with children, his body seemingly drawn in by a magnet toward whatever grabbed his attention. He stood with his back to you, examining a newspaper box. 

“Come on, Buck, no one reads the paper anymore,” you laughed, attempting to sway his focus. But he didn’t move. 

His gaze remained on the grainy photo of the two of you holding hands outside your building. For the second time that day, you scanned the headline: ‘SERIAL KILLER’S PR RELATIONSHIP: The Winter Soldier’s Attempt to Win Over the American Public’.

“What- what is this?” Bucky looked to you for help, for context. “Why did someone wrote about us?”

A haunting sense of hopelessness filled his eyes, leaving you gutted. And though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the page. Each second spent examining the harsh headline caused him more pain, more anguish. 

He truly couldn’t believe what he saw. And he couldn’t believe he’d dragged you into the crossfire. 

“Hey, don’t pay it any mind, okay?” You fought to meet his eyeline, “It’s just stupid gossip-”

A realization flashed across his face, “is this what you were reading this morning?”

A slow nod confirmed his fears. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just-”

Bucky snatched a paper from the box and began reading at lightning speed. With each sentence, the dread filling his chest grew heavier. “Hydra’s deadliest weapon has a new victim,” Bucky read aloud. “though she hasn’t been bloodied or brutalized…yet. We’ll see just how long Barnes’s new PR ‘girlfriend’ survives.”

The words cut him deep. They wormed their way into his brain and unearthed the fears he’d long tried to put to rest. He knew he was wrong to be with you. He was wrong to indulge in his feelings for you. Dating you meant putting you in danger, and he’d known that all along. But you were never scared of him- and if you were, you didn’t show it. This article, however, cemented his belief: your relationship was a ticking time bomb; being Bucky’s girlfriend meant signing your I love you’s in blood. 

“Wait-” he dragged his eyes upward and met your anxious stare. “What does this mean- what’s a ‘PR relationship’?”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase, just like you had earlier that morning, “’public relations relationship’. It’s a fake relationship that’s been arranged by a PR firm. People usually do it to get publicity or fix their public image after a scandal.”

Bucky knew there was more to your answer, and he had enough questions to last till dinner. But the article was long- too long. He knew it had to be full to the brim with the most brutal, vile rhetoric possible. Reading it would hurt, yes. But he needed to know exactly what the article said about him, about you. 

He buried his face in the paper once more, only surfacing to share a line or two with you. “They think you’re being paid to date me? That we’ve been doing something called-” he double checked the article, “‘pap walks’? What’s a pap walk?”

Even in times of crisis, Bucky’s lack of modern knowledge still managed to pull a smile from you. “It’s where you call the paparazzi so they can take pictures of you, but you pretend it was spontaneous.”

Bucky looked stunned, “Why would anyone do that?”

You shrugged, “you’d be surprised.”

People took pictures of Bucky without his permission constantly- it happened all the time. They snapped photos at the grocery store and on the subway. And no matter how subtle they tried to be, Bucky always clocked it. He could almost feel the lenses on him. But he didn’t notice the person taking this picture on the front page. Maybe if he had, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe he could’ve saved you from being exposed like this.

He shook his head and disappeared once again into the disgusting story written about the two of you. He didn’t care much what they said about him. People hated him- that wasn’t knew information. And though he didn’t love being one of the most reviled men in history, he’d come to terms with it. But now that someone dragged you into the fray, the fire within him reignited.

“His new ‘girlfriend’ functions as a means of improving the public’s opinion of Barnes and humanizing the ex-Winter Soldier. It’s a PR strategy we’ve seen a million times- one that could possibly salvage Barnes’s reputation,” Bucky read aloud. He eyed the people who passed, waiting until they crossed the street to continue. 

“But what if she herself is no angel?” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “Surely, no one in their right mind would risk their life to date a proven serial killer. So, it’s entirely possible that she herself may not be in her right mind. Maybe she, too, is a criminal. Acting as Barnes’s new love interest could possibly knock time off her sentence or hours off her court mandated community service.” 

Bucky stared at you, aghast. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I- I can’t believe they’d say that about you…”

“Buck, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “We both know I’m actually in love with you for real. I don’t have a prison sentence to shorten or community service hours to perform. And the last time I checked, no one is paying me to date you.” You cut a glance to the newspaper box, full of papers with front page coverage about you and Bucky, “I’m not worried about their bullshit.”

Bucky’s grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges. “But why’d they have to drag you into it? You haven’t done anything wrong-”

“Neither have you,” your tone was insistent, steadfast.

“We both know that’s not true…” Bucky loved your support, your assertions that he was an innocent man. But he never believed them. He knew he had blood on his hands even if you couldn’t- or refused to- see it.

“We both know you had no choice,” your rebuttal didn’t waver. “But, speaking of things that aren’t true,” you gestured toward the paper, “they also dropped Sam’s name.”

Bucky scanned through the article until he found the paragraph in question. “Why put in the effort to clean the blood from Barnes’s tarnished reputation? Two words: Sam Wilson,” Bucky paused his reading and stared up at you with wide eyes. All you could do was nod. 

“Barnes and Wilson have been seen together on many occasions and have even been photographed on Wilson’s family boat in Louisiana. But Barnes’s association with Sam Wilson, AKA the New Captain America, only hurts the Captain America brand. Even if the two did take down the Flag Smashers as a team, Barnes is a bloodstain on the brilliant red, white, and blue of Wilson’s Cap.” 

Hearing the words aloud twisted the knife. Sure, skimming the article hurt, but listening to Bucky read every last disgusting word hurt you in ways you never imagined. He deserved better. He deserved a world that loved him. A world that welcomed him home and celebrated his life. He deserved a fucking medal of honor for simply surviving what Hydra put him through. But he didn’t get medals or high praise; he, instead, got spit on by people on the subway. 

“But if this new woman improves Barnes’s image in the public eye, his destruction of Wilson’s mantle may be mitigated.” 

Bucky balled up the paper and crushed it into the nearest garbage can. His hands shook with anger, with anxiety. 

“I hadn’t even- I didn’t even think of that…” he leaned against the newspaper box, dejected. “I didn’t realize I was ruining Sam's reputation just by being friends with him.” Despair darkened his expression. He knew getting close to people was selfish- he just never realized how selfish. And in one fell swoop, he ruined the lives of the two people he cared about most.

“You’re not- you’re not ruining anything,” you took Bucky’s face in your hands, cradling his cheeks. “These kinds of stories are all made up, baby. There’s no sources or actual information for them to work from, so they just write whatever will get them the most attention.”

Bucky’s gaze fell downward. “I don’t know, doll…”

“But I do. I know.” Your words came out desperate, pleading. Something inside of you shook with a frantic need to mend Bucky’s broken heart. You’d never seen him this despondent, this torn apart. “And I’m not gonna let you doubt yourself because of some low budget, piece of shit gossip article.” Regardless of the emotion holding you hostage, your voice didn’t waver. You stood firm in your conviction, determined to help Bucky find his way out of the spiral. “I love you. I love being with you. I missed you so much- I hate when you’re gone. And Sam- Sam loves you, too. I mean, not as much as me…” you shot him a wink. “But he is your best friend. He cares about you. And I can guarantee that he’s never- even for a second- thought that you were ruining his reputation.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head.

“Hey, you know Sam doesn’t care about that kind of stuff- he doesn’t give a shit what people think.” Sam knew Bucky as the ruthless assassin, the broken fugitive, and the rehabilitated man seeking amends. He’d seen the darkest, most twisted version of Bucky created by Hydra- even fought against him. But he didn’t see Bucky as a villain anymore. He saw only his friend, the tortured soul who tried his best every day.

Bucky lifted your hands from his face and held them to his chest instead. He gave a deep, heavy sigh that vibrated under your palms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wished to go back into cryo and escape the stares of the world. 

You could see him crumbling, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. He was drowning in his own mind, and you offered him a life preserver. “Hey, I know it must feel fucking awful to see a story like this about yourself. And I know you hate that Sam and I are involved. But it’s not your fault.” You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, desperate to get your point across. “This whole thing is so predatory and evil- it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. But I swear to you that this does not matter to the rest of the world. they won’t even notice.” Bucky’s stare sliced through you. Something in his eyes appeared hopeful- but only for a moment. The brightness died suddenly, replaced by despair.

“Seriously, Buck, people these days don’t even have the attention span to read an article this long.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your attempted levity. You dropped your joking tone and grew serious. “I don’t want you to think that this changes anything- it doesn’t. This will not have any ramifications. It will all blow over. The news cycle moves so fast now- by tomorrow, this same shitty paper will publish something that’s, like, ‘Elton John is secretly an alien.’”

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply rested his shoulders against the cool, brick wall and let his head fall back. He wondered if the fear people held for him would ever subside, if he’d ever be seen as anything other than a monster. His legacy was soaked in blood. It hung over his head every day, dripping crimson onto his skin. No shower could undo the stains- no matter how hard he scrubbed, he’d always be the stuff of nightmares.

“Okay, hey, how about this,” you reeled Bucky back in, saving him from the dark recesses of his mind. “Let’s just go home, alright? We can hole up and hide out. Watch movies, order takeout. We’ll just stay out of the public eye until this bullshit blows over.”

The offer enticed him. Escaping the stares of strangers, their horrified expressions- it sounded idyllic. The thought of just the two of you snuggled together on the couch, marathoning all of What We Do in the Shadows with Chinese takeout in hand was tempting. Bucky could feel the ‘yes’ forming on his lips. But at the last second, he refused with a shake of his head.

Bucky made a promise to you. After being an absentee boyfriend for months, he planned out the perfect day and swore on his life to deliver. He couldn’t break any more promises- not after he was gone for so long. And he had so much to make up for. So many date nights and lazy weekends fell by the wayside while he was away. He racked up a stack of debt in your relationship, and if he didn’t start paying it off soon, he feared you’d cancel his account.

But he knew you- knew you didn’t care about these things. You didn’t consider him accountable for the time he missed or hold a grudge against him. You were gracious- too gracious- of him. And if he rattled off his reasons for refusing your offer, he knew you’d sweep them aside. He knew you’d lead him home without hesitation and stay cooped up inside until the world eased up on him. And you’d miss out on your perfect day. 

Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I think it’s actually better if…” he eyed the people passing, certain they were shooting the two of you dirty looks. “I think it’s better if I just go about my day. If we go home and hide, I’ll obsess, you know? I’ll get trapped in my own head.” He quickly tacked on an addendum, “but if you’re not okay being out in public right now, I understand. They involved you in this mess, too.”

You shrugged, “it doesn’t bother me. I know our relationship is real. That’s all that matters.” 

And for a split second, Bucky’s worries disappeared. You were so sure of your love for him. So unbothered by what everyone else had to say. You didn’t let the opinions of others get to you; you loved Bucky, end of story. You adapted to every hurdle and challenge brought on by dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And you did so with a smile.

“Okay, good. Then I guess our next stop is the bookstore,” he said with a small smile. You tried to turn and head in that direction, but Bucky caught your hand, stopping you. “And hey- if anyone on the way there gives you trouble, you just say the word, okay?” 

But no one gave you any trouble. The walk to the bookstore was quiet. Unremarkable. No one hollered close-minded comments at Bucky. No one gave either of you venomous glares. The calm shocked Bucky. He’d been so sure that this day would fall apart. That everyone who read that article would converge on the two of you all at once, harassing and degrading you until you retreated home. But no one said a word. The two of you simply strolled hand in hand, soaking in the warm summer sun. And Bucky’s hope for a perfect day renewed.

“I thought it would be in this section…” Bucky scanned the ‘fantasy’ section of the bookstore, searching for a specific novel. He took the high shelves, and you took the low, meeting in the middle after a fruitless search. 

“Yeah, I didn’t see it, babe,” you rose from your squatted position, two mystery novels under your arm. “Maybe you should ask an employee? I can stay here and keep looking, just in case we missed it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky gave the area another cursory glance, to no avail. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead and set off in search of a clerk, leaving you behind to double check the shelves. 

The hundreds of books lined up in perfect rows put you at ease. This shop was the coziest place in the city, a peaceful paradise free from the noise. And spending a Saturday morning with Bucky, wandering amongst the many titles, felt like home. Your fingertips brushed over a few of the spines, tracing the ornate lettering in search of Bucky’s book. 

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice brought you back to reality, halting your hunt. 

“Oh, sorry,” you took a few steps out of the stranger’s way and continued your search, only for her to interrupt once again. 

“No, I want to talk to you!” her intense energy was out of place in the small, quiet bookshop. The eagerness in her voice rubbed you the wrong way. “Is it true?”

You stared at her, a blank expression on your face. “Is what true?”

“The whole PR relationship thing!” She pulled out her phone and shoved the article in your face, “I read about you two this morning.”

Your hands tightened into fists. Your jaw tensed. And though you wanted to wring this woman’s neck, you kept your cool; Bucky wouldn’t want you to get into a fight on his behalf. With a deep breath, you quelled the rage building inside you. You set down your books and relaxed your shoulders, forcing your breathing to steady.

This stranger had no right to ask invasive questions about your relationship, and no right to ruin your favorite bookstore. “Our relationship is none of your business,” you said, and turned back toward the bookshelves. This stranger didn’t deserve your eye contact, your attention, or your mental space. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Oh, duh! I bet they made you sign an NDA, didn’t they? I get it,” she threw an all too friendly chuckle in your direction. “Can you at least tell me what they’re paying you?”

With that, you brushed past her and attempted an escape. All you wanted was to find Bucky and put this whole interaction behind you. But she followed, phone in hand, recording the whole thing. 

“Are you a criminal, too? Are you getting time off your sentence or something?” she called after you. 

You let it go.

“How’d they get you to agree to this arrangement?”

You ignored her.

“Aren’t you scared? I could never do what you’re doing,” she said. “No amount of money could ever get me to be near that man- he’s a serial killer. He’s a monster!”

Something inside you snapped. You whipped around, rage burning behind your eyes. She crossed the line. She didn’t know anything about Bucky, only what the papers and tabloids said about him. And she

deserved to pay the price for speaking about him so harshly. But just as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, a large hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky stared down at you, “What’s-”

Your harasser’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” pure terror rendered her white as a sheet. “It- it’s him…” Clumsy steps carried her backward as her phone slipped from her hand. She scrambled for it, desperate to run in the opposite direction. Breathless, horrified sounds fell from her lips. Her hands shook. You watched with a smile as she snatched her phone from the floor and tripped over herself as she high tailed it for the door.

Bucky eyed the woman as she knocked over displays and ran into other customers. “What was that about?”

You gave a shake of your head, “nothing. She was just hounding me about the article.” 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. Hit brow grew furrowed. “Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t follow me around and ask me invasive questions.” You stretched up on your toes, planting a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not a big deal. I just hope I don’t end up on her Tik Tok.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, “she was filming you?” 

You nodded. Bucky’s face fell. 

A rushed “Don’t worry about it, though” pushed its way past your lips. It had an over-the-top cheery tone and a thick affectation of reassurance. You could practically hear Bucky’s heart splintering and shattering with each passing second, and you had to stop it. “I’m sure she’s gonna watch it back later and delete it when she hears her own panicked panting,” you shot him a wink.

And you waited. Waited for the gears in Bucky’s mind to turn. To grind. The devil and angel on his shoulders fought one another, bare knuckled, to convince him of their arguments. The devil told him to spiral, to jump headfirst into a dark sea. He told Bucky this was all his fault, that you’d been harassed, followed, and filmed all because of him. The angel, however, urged him to listen to you. To take a deep breath. To hold your hand. To understand that the article wasn’t his fault- none of this was his fault. 

And after a long moment, he slipped his hand into yours. The gesture was a bit reluctant, sure, but you didn’t care. He’d resisted the urge to plummet into guilt and shame. And that’s all that mattered. 

You let loose a deep sigh as relief spread through your every cell. “Let’s get outta here, okay? We can head back home and-”

“What about breakfast?”

You eyed Bucky for a moment. “You still wanna go?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he gave you a small smile. “I know how excited you were about it.”

Of course, all he cared about was you. Your happiness. Your enjoyment. Your love for this diner’s chicken and waffles.

“We can just go another time,” you assured him. “It’s no big deal.”

Bucky sensed the disappointment, no matter how slight in your voice. He couldn’t ruin this day for you. He couldn’t let you down again.

But he thought about the walk to the diner, the hordes of people you’d encounter on the way. And just like that, he felt his manufactured mask of optimism slip.

A sudden rush of what if’s pummeled his psyche. He imagined more harassers filming you, more unhinged strangers following you. He heard them yelling the most despicable things in your direction, hurling insult after insult your way. The voices grew into a loud, almost violent cacophony that rattled inside Bucky’s skull. 

He couldn’t let you be exposed to the cruel world like this. He couldn’t take you to breakfast when an angry mob threatened you at every turn. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at, to be disrespected. And what if they turned violent? What if someone followed the two of you home? He couldn’t risk your safety like that.

But he still had to make up for all his time away. All the lonely nights you spent awake, wondering if he was still alive. All the weekends you spent alone, missing him until it hurt. And he’d made a promise- to himself and to you- that he’d rectify the pain his absence caused. 

Plus, he had to be over-reacting, right? Assuming the worst out of people he didn’t even know- it wasn’t fair. Sure, a stranger followed you around and gave you a hard time. But she didn’t hurt you. She didn’t even try to get violent. It was all in Bucky’s head- he was sure of it. He made a conscious effort to release his shoulders from their tension-locked position and forced a deep breath into his chest. 

“No, doll, really. It’s okay,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “I can tolerate a few dirty looks.”

The second the two of you stepped out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk, you clocked the way hung his head. The way he hid from the eyes of the city. He tried to shrink himself, to protect himself. The confidence, the self-esteem he’d worked so hard to build came crumbling down in an instant. This wasn’t your Bucky, but the Bucky of years before. The Bucky who hated every fiber of his being. The Bucky who took every harsh word spoken about him as gospel. The Bucky who punished his innocent body to make up for his tortured mind. 

The reemergence of this Bucky twisted the knife with which the article stabbed you and rubbed salt in the wound.

The walk to the diner brought out your chatty side. Filling the air with lighthearted anecdotes and silly jokes seemed to you like the only way to keep Bucky afloat. If you could distract him from the pain, from the potentially hateful onlookers, maybe this day could be salvaged. But, much to your surprise, not one person harassed the two of you. No one asked questions or followed you around. Not a single errant camera flash dotted the street. Hope rose in Bucky’s chest. Maybe this perfect day could still go as planned. Maybe he could still keep his promise.

When you arrived at the diner without issue, Bucky found himself almost laughing at his own dramatics. He knew he worried too much, that he always considered the worst possible outcomes. He saw the world through a dark and stormy filter, always casting shadows over reality. But to his delight, he’d been wrong this time.

The bell atop the diner door gave a delicate jingle as the two of you made your way inside. The place had an old-timey feel that brought Bucky a sense of comfort, a sense of home. Large families sat packed like sardines in every booth. Tray after tray of French toast and eggs benedict passed by. The smell of bacon and golden-brown pancakes instantly pulled his lips into a smile. It seemed to Bucky that this joint was the real deal. He couldn’t wait to try the chicken and waffles you raved about. Couldn’t wait for a syrup-sweetened kiss. 

“For two?” the hostess asked when you made your way to the front of the line. You gave her a nod. 

She eyed the section to her left, appraising the area for an opening as a busboy waved in her direction. “Okay, this way,” she grabbed two menus from the host stand and gestured for you to follow. 

But just as you attempted to trail her through the sea of tables, a booming voice caught your attention. 

“Hey!” 

The restaurant quieted. Heads turned in the direction of the outcry.

A large, gray-haired man with a soiled apron stepped into the hostess’s path, blocking her way. A deep crease formed between his furrowed brows. Sweat dotted his bright pink cheeks. This was the face of a man who stood over a hot grill for twenty-five years. He was familiar, but only vaguely so. You could’ve sworn you’d heard that voice before- though with a kinder intonation. And then it hit you.

During your last visit to the diner, he stopped by your table to ask how you liked the food. He was so kind, so even tempered. He thanked you for choosing to spend your Sunday morning at what used to be his father’s restaurant. He was so proud of the old place. So compassionate for its time-worn booths and outdated wallpaper. He told you how he worked in the kitchen for so long that now, even as the new owner and manager, he couldn’t stay away from the griddles. 

But the kind-hearted man you met last time was long gone.

“Not in my restaurant!” He ripped the menus from the hostess and dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand. He glared at Bucky, his eyes brimming with hate. “We don’t serve murderers here!” 

The lighthearted chatter died out altogether. Forks stopped clinking against plates. Children halted their laughter. Hundreds of eyes locked on Bucky as his cheeks burst into a red flush.

“Get out before I call the police!” The man took a step toward the two of you, “You’re not welcome here, you psycho.”

“You can’t talk to him like that!” you barked back. “He isn’t-” 

“Baby, don’t,” Bucky cupped a hand around your upper arm and tried to gently pull you toward the door. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” you cut your gaze back to the manage, “not until he apologizes.”

Bucky gave your arm another tug, “please.”

The desperation in his voice nearly made you crack. His eyes swept across the room and back again, taking in each and every horrified stare. With each taunt the manager threw his way, the weight of the public eye grew heavier. More suffocating. Their stares pushed Bucky’s shoulders forward and his head down. He was crumbling.

Not one person stood up for Bucky. No one- aside from you- called the manager out. No patron even gave a disapproving shake of their head. It sickened you.

With a small nod, you obliged Bucky’s request, and let him lead you out of the restaurant. The stares followed him the entire way.

Bucky wanted to disintegrate. He wished to, once again, turn to dust and evaporate into the breeze. If he ran, he could put a few miles between himself and this godforsaken diner in minutes. But he found his feet rooted into the ground. He was frozen. Trapped. Running wasn’t an option.

He leaned against the cool glass window of the diner and let himself process. He heard you talking a mile a minute, reassuring him until you ran out of breath. But he couldn’t pick out more than a few words. It wasn’t until a defeated apology fell from your lips that he snapped out of his trance.

“Wait- you’re sorry?” 

You nodded. “I’m so sorry, Buck. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His gaze fell into a strange middle distance, landing on everything and nothing all at once. “I should apologize. That article… it ruined everything. I feel like I-” His eyes met yours, “your life is never gonna be the same after this.” 

You gave him a shrug, “who says I want it to be?”

His eyes met yours as an exasperated laugh left his chest, “You’re kidding, right? This is going to affect everything for you: jobs, housing, friendships. When people look you up online, all they’re gonna see is that article. They’re gonna see me.”

“Good. I want them to see you,” you said with a wink. “If I’m gonna date the hottest guy in the universe, I want everyone to know about it.” Bucky didn’t laugh. “Babe, I’m not worried about that kind of stuff right now. I’m worried about you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the sidewalk below. “I’ve been through worse.” 

The worn-out, beaten down quality of his voice was enough to make you weep. Bucky didn’t deserve more pain. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a monster. But society cast him out and labelled him a vicious predator. They abandoned him, left him in a corner to rot and wither. All alone. 

And you weren’t going to let them do it again.

“Fuck that article and fuck all these people who wanna disrespect you.” You tilted his chin upward until his eyes met yours, “we’re gonna go home and order take out. We’re gonna watch some movies. And we’re gonna get through this bullshit together.”

Without another word, you slipped your hand into his and started off in the direction of home. But Bucky didn’t move. 

You turned back to him, an expectant look on your face. “You coming?”

“But…” he gave the diner another look, “You didn’t get your chicken and waffles.”

“What?”

“You should go back inside and eat,” Bucky pulled his hand from yours. “I’ll head home and-”

“Buck, I say this with love, but-” you cupped his face, “are you nuts?”

He let out a deep, genuine laugh. 

“I’m not gonna eat here ever again,” you spied the manager through the window, “fuck that guy.”

Bucky just wanted you to enjoy the breakfast you’d been dreaming of. He hated that you were willing to deprive yourself. That he’d ruined your special breakfast spot. But your fierce loyalty filled him with warmth. In that moment, he made a mental note. He planned to scour the internet and find the best chicken and waffles in the city to make up for today’s mess.  

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky said. “You were ready to fist fight that guy.”

You put up your dukes and landed a few faux punches to Bucky’s chest, “hell yeah I was. No one is allowed to treat you like that.” Your hands fell to your sides. A sudden seriousness eclipsed your joking tone. “Ever.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, holding you close to his chest. He never thought he’d have someone like you in his life. Someone who loved him. Cared for him. Supported him. But, without fail, you had his back every time. You were his safe harbor, his soft place to land. 

Sometimes, he thought that maybe you were with him by accident. Maybe he was never meant to experience your gentle kind of love. Maybe he interrupted you on your path to someone else. Maybe he somehow got tangled in fate’s thread. But he didn’t care. 

You took Bucky’s hand once again, prepared to lead him in the direction of home, “Ready?” 

Bucky gave you a cheery nod, “let’s-”

“Fuck you, murderer!” a passerby shouted. He disappeared in a flash, bold enough to insult Bucky but cowardly enough not to hang around for the consequences. 

Bucky thought the man might’ve said something else as he bolted from the scene, but he didn’t quite catch it. He was too distracted by the vague sounds of discomfort grumbling out of your chest. 

“Doll? You alright?” 

Slowly, carefully, you turned to him. A look of shock yanked his features upward as he came face to face with the massive coffee stain covering your body. It splashed over the entirety of your chest, streaking down the front of your shirt. Steam still wafted from the drips running down your neck. Rogue droplets dotted your arms.  

“Oh my god…” Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help you. 

The boiling tidal wave seared through your skin, setting each nerve alight. You could’ve sworn it hit bone. The sudden rush of pain forced a trembling into your hands, an unsteadiness into your voice. A stinging rush of tears brimmed against your lash line, but you wouldn’t dare let them fall. Not when you could practically see Bucky choking on his guilt.

“Wow, I wish that asshole was more of a cold brew guy,” you joked. “And he ruined my favorite shirt with his shitty aim.”

Bucky’s chest seemed to fold in on itself. It shuddered and shrank, collapsing against his thundering heart. Each inhale was shallower, greedier than the last. Oxygen leeched from his lungs as the crushing panic set it. An ever-darkening shadow clouded the edges of his vision- but he couldn’t succumb. Not when you needed him. 

Before he knew what was happening, he used his body to form a protective shell around you. He ushered you toward the diner door, scanning the area for oncoming threats. No one else was going to get to you- not today, not ever. 

A deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest as he ushered you inside. Sure, it was only coffee. And you weren’t even the target. But every passing second brought a new, horrifying ‘what if’ to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. 

What if you’d been thrown to the ground? 

What if you’d been shot? 

What if vengeful people wanted to spill your blood as payment for Bucky’s crimes?

He thought he might throw up. 

But the second he made it to the hostess stand, his nausea dissipated. The fog clouding his mind cleared. You were his priority- everything else could wait. 

“Someone just threw hot coffee on her,” Bucky said to the hostess. His words came out quick, firm. “She needs ice now.”

The hostess’s features sunk with a heavy guilt. “Oh, shit. I-” She glanced across the room at the manager and watched him with narrowed eyes as he schmoozed with the regulars. “I’ll go grab some right now, give me one second.”

The seconds dragged. Anxiety coursed through Bucky, prickling at his every cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to calm the worry. But he couldn’t help it; you were attacked- because of him. And he needed to remedy it as quickly as possible. 

“You doing okay?” He stared down at you, worry creasing his features.

You nodded, “yeah. Doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. I think all of my nerves have gone numb, ya know?” You attempt at humor sunk like lead. 

“Baby, I’m so-”

“What the fuck did I say?!” the manager stomped over to Bucky, his wrath on full display. “I’m calling the cops! I already kicked you out once-”

Bucky held up a hand in surrender, “We just need some ice- the hostess went to get it. As soon as she gets back, I’ll go.”

The manager rolled his eyes, “No- you don’t get anything from us. Leave! I’m calling the police!”

It was then that the hostess appeared with a large plastic bag full of ice. She looked at you with kind eyes, apologizing silently for her manager’s behavior. “Here you go. Is this enough? I can get more-”

“It’s plenty, really,” you hastily grabbed for the bag and pressed it to your scorched skin. The cool sensation flooded your senses, doing away with any remaining discomfort. “Thank you.”

“Great, you got your ice,” the manager spat, “now get out.”

Bucky thanked the hostess a hundred times over as guilt settled in his stomach. He knew she’d get in trouble for helping him. He knew the manager would scream at her- most likely in front of everyone. But she’d shown the two of you kindness. She did her best to help you in a moment of need, regardless of what others said. And it renewed Bucky’s faith in strangers- if only for a moment.

“How does that feel? Is it okay?” Bucky eyed the dripping bag of ice, the shivering in your fingers. “I can ask her for-”

“Hey! Do you speak English, or just Russian?” The manager yelled, “GET. THE FUCK. OUT. You understand?”

Part of Bucky wanted to disappear into a cave for a while. Wanted to hide from the ridicule. But he couldn’t check out. He couldn’t evaporate and leave you to fend for yourself. No, he’d made a promise to himself the day he met you; he swore he’d always protect you. And though he couldn’t stop the public from treating you with malice, he could at least get you home safely.

“Woah, hey- where are you going?” Bucky put a hand over yours, halting your attempt to open the diner door.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard the lovely manager of this fine establishment,” you said, “but he wants us to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Bucky gave a fervent shake of his head, “No. You wait in here. I’m gonna get us a cab, and-”

“It’s okay, I’ll come with you.” You gave the door a tug, but Bucky kept it from budging.

“Don’t,” a dark seriousness clung to Bucky’s words. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”

Bucky’s protective nature was always sweet. Always made you feel special. You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at your features. “Babe, it was just coffee-” 

“This time,” a grave look ghosted over his face. “It was just coffee this time.”

Bucky let his eyes drift to the busy sidewalk outside. Every stranger, every passing face posed a threat to your safety. Anyone could have a knife. A gun. And while Bucky was certain that the hot coffee had been meant for him- that you were simply collateral damage, an unintended target- he feared how the city might treat you. You’d already been followed, harassed, filmed, attacked. People saw you as fair game, as a token of retribution. An eye for an eye that made the city blind with hate.

“Can you just-” He dragged his gaze back to you, “will you please wait inside?”

Bucky couldn’t remember ever being this scared. Not on the train, not at Hydra. This was different; this was your life at stake. Your vulnerabilities exposed to the world. It was as if a magnifying glass sat posed above you, giving anyone and everyone a detailed look into your life. Bucky knew there wasn’t much time before the rays of the sun burned you alive.

“Okay, yeah,” you released the door handle, “I’ll stay in here.” It was the least you could do. 

He was deathly pale, his hand shaking with anxiety. He worried about you so intensely that you sometimes feared he’d get sick. And though no part of you wanted to send Bucky out there alone, you agreed. 

His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; the whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he dropped a kiss to your forehead and headed outside to the world that hated him.

And hate him they did. You watched from the diner window, the scene that played out filling you with anguish. Not a single cab even slowed down for him. Vacant taxis turned off their lights as they approached- only to turn them back on once they’d passed. Bucky’s shoulders grew more slumped with each unsuccessful attempt at hailing a cab. His head drooped; his expression grew pained. This wasn’t fair. After his pardon, he’d worked so hard to earn the public’s trust, to reenter their good graces. He made his amends, went to therapy, even did a few interviews at Sam’s suggestion. 

One poorly written article in a shit-rag paper, however, was enough to send him back to square one.

All Bucky wanted was to get you home safely, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t even provide something that basic, that simple. He cursed himself relentlessly as taxi after taxi flew by. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet, he was the reason for your pain. Your peril. It made him nauseous.

After countless failed attempts at securing a ride, Bucky turned to face you. He stared at you through the dirty glass, shame and disappointment dragging his features downward. For a long moment, he just stood there. Completely still. Passersby bumped into him every now and again. People muttered under their breath about him being in the way. But he didn’t move. He just looked at you, the person he loved most. You, the person he cared for above all else. You, the person he couldn’t protect. Couldn’t provide for. 

Part of him thought it best to just walk away. His absence would make your life easier, less chaotic. Safer. If he left you alone, maybe you’d find someone else. Someone normal. Someone better. Someone who could take you out to breakfast without putting you in harm’s way. Someone whose mere existence didn’t prompt strangers to scream at you in public. 

But he couldn’t leave you- ever. He was bound to you from day one. 

One last fruitless attempt at catching a cab sent his heart sinking down, down, down to the soles of his feet. And as he approached the diner with his tail between his legs, he felt himself stepping on it with each pace. He was so embarrassed, so ashamed. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned you to the door and popped his head inside. 

“Baby, could you…” he was almost too downtrodden to speak. “Could you get us a cab? No one will-” he cleared his throat, “No one will stop for me.”

The look on his face hurt worse than your scorched skin.

“Of course, Buck. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t lost on Bucky how quickly a cab stopped for you. It took less than a minute, maybe less thirty seconds. He stood on the sidelines, as far away from you as he could possibly get without leaving you defenseless. You looked good out there on your own, free from his burden. 

The cab ride home was quiet. Uncomfortable. The driver eyed Bucky in the rearview as though appraising a threat. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost all color. You swore you heard the gas pedal hit the floorboards more than once. The car sliced through traffic and screeched to a halt outside your building, throwing you forward in your seat. The seatbelt tightened against your scalded skin, pulling a groan from your throat.

“Thanks. Um,” Bucky handed the driver a wad of cash, “keep the change.” He kept his focus trained on you but couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the way the driver flinched. The way his muscles yanked his body in the opposite direction. The way his hands shook as he took the money. Bucky wished to evaporate.

But he couldn’t, not yet. Not when you needed him. And so, he walked you upstairs and ushered you into the small apartment you shared. He double and triple checked the deadbolt, even pulled on the door to ensure your safety. He couldn’t let anything else happen to you- he’d rather die. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go take a shower,” you broke the tense silence. “I reek of cinnamon soy latte.” The laugh that punctuated your sentence did nothing to brighten Bucky’s stormy expression. 

“Sounds good, doll,” he nodded. “You can just drop your clothes in the hall, I’ll throw them in the laundry for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned down at your coffee-stained shirt, appraising the damage done. “I don’t think this thing can be saved.”

Bucky shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll give it a try.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the least I could do.” And with a light tap to your ass, he sent you off to shower. The gesture wasn’t as lighthearted as it was just a few hours earlier, but he was trying. Trying to appear less dejected. Less broken.

But you saw through the façade.

When you emerged, free from the smell of coffee, you found Bucky in the kitchen standing over the kettle. He stared down at it, his hands resting on either side of the stove top, his shoulders nearly reaching his ears. You knew that look- he was lost inside his own head. 

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to watch that thing…” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought. “Otherwise, it’ll never boil.” 

His head snapped up. The darkness clouding his eyes parted. He smiled at your lame joke, letting your lighthearted tone lift his spirits. “I was just gonna make you a tea, I know you haven’t had the easiest day.” He just wanted to right the ship, to steer the two of you out of the dark, choppy waters in which you found yourselves. Maybe, this small, kind gesture could make up for your ruined Saturday. Maybe, it would keep you from leaving. 

“How was your shower?”

Just thinking about it made you wince. “It was fine, I guess. I had to use the coldest water possible- any warmth at all made my skin hurt.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicked from your face to the kettle and back. Worry creased his brow. “Should I not…” He sighed, “Are hot beverages out of the question?” He couldn’t believe how absentminded he’d been. 

“No! Definitely not,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you know I’ll always take a tea. Thanks, babe.”

A small, proud smile spread across Bucky’s face. For once, he didn’t disappoint you. For once, he didn’t ruin the moment. After such a nightmarish day, he finally breathed easy, knowing that he’d done one thing right.

“I was thinking I could run out and grab us something to eat,” Bucky said when he got you settled on the couch with your tea and a fresh ice pack. “I know you’re probably starving. And I could-”

“Baby, no,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you out there- I don’t want you getting harassed or attacked. We’re in hermit mode for a few days until this whole thing blows over. Okay?”

Bucky barely mustered a nod. 

“Let’s just order some take out. What sounds good?” You dropped your ice pack to the side, grimacing at the loss of the cool sensation. But comfort could wait. You opened your laptop and sat up, poised to take Bucky’s order. But he didn’t answer. 

He remained silent for a long while, eyeing the floor with a blank stare. His nails dug into the palm of his hand; his jaw tensed. Something deep within him fought tooth and nail to claw its way out. It scratched at his insides, screaming for release. Bucky didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even chance upsetting you. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

“Do you ever regret this?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Regret what?”

“This-” Bucky gestured to himself, and then you. “Us.”

The words hurt worse than your scorched chest. “No. Why would you even say that?”

Bucky shrugged, “Because you’re covered in second degree burns and it’s my fault.” Never before had he ever sounded this broken, this hopeless. Not even after Steve left. 

“Buck, it’s not your fault,” you shut your computer and inched closer to him. “You’re not the one who threw hot coffee on me-”

“But the person who did was aiming for me, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he choked out. “That’s my fault.”

“It’s not-”

He stood suddenly, his anxiety forcing him to move. “Can you deal with this for the rest of your life? All the staring and the harassment? And the hiding at home because everyone hates me? Is that the kind of life you want?” He paced with a fervent drive, fearing that if he didn’t burn through the nervous energy, he’d suffocate under it.

But, even in the face of his frantic movements, you remained seated, remained calm. Talking to Bucky in this state was like coaxing an injured animal into your home. One wrong move, and he’d bolt. Every move, ever word, had to be slow, measured. With an even tone and soft words, you refuted his sentiments. “I want whatever kind of life lets me be with you-”

“You want people throwing coffee on you forever? You want-” He paused, only to place your icepack on your chest once again. “You want to be kicked out of restaurants and denied cabs? Just to be with me?”

One small nod. “Yes.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his expression blank. “People used to vandalize my apartment, you know…”

“What?”

He nodded. “After I finally came back to New York and tried to settle in…” The memories of those uncomfortable, disjointed days filled Bucky with dread. He’d never been so lonely, so lost. He pulled away from you, fearing he’d complicated your life. He forced himself into isolation. And to make matters worse, his community turned their back on him. They didn’t welcome him home or celebrate his survival. They made him wish he’d never made it back. “They broke my windows, filled my mailbox with pictures of my victims, used animal blood to write ‘KILLER’ across my front door-” He let out a heavy sigh, one that came from deep within his bones. “That’s why I moved so often. My landlords- no matter how sketchy they were, no matter how much illegal shit they did to their tenants- kept kicking me out. I was too much of a liability, even for those shithole places.”

It left you reeling. Images of Bucky coming home to find his place completely trashed hurt you in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could see him, covered in blood, scrubbing his front door in the middle of the night. Wiping tears from his eyes as he looked through piles of photos of the people he hurt. Taping pieces of cardboard over his broken windows in the hopes of keeping out the severe, violent winters. He didn’t deserve any of it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself back to the present. “Buck, I don’t care about things like that. They can vandalize our place if they want. They can throw coffee at me.” Slowly, carefully, you rose from the couch. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’m happy.”

A rough scoff launched out of Bucky’s throat, “Come on-”

“No, you come on,” Your words came out too intense, too hard. But you couldn’t maintain your even keel anymore. Not when Bucky was moments from unraveling. “I have been in this with you since the day we met. I knew- almost immediately- that you were the person I wanted to be with. Even when you didn’t know where- or who- you were. Even when you went back into cryo. Even when you turned to dust and disappeared for five years.” Dredging up the past hurt. It sliced you open and tore your heart into pieces. But you didn’t dare fall apart- not yet. “Even when you pushed me away,” your voice wavered, “I have been with you- and I always will be. Because I know who you are. I know you’re a good person.” A few tears dripped down your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.“

“Why?” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t- I can’t understand that.”

“Because you’re just- you’re you, baby,” you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky’s existence. “You’re kind. And you’re thoughtful. And you’re compassionate. You care about everything. Everyone. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours…” You shrugged, “I love you. So much.”

“I know you do. And I love you, but…” His eyes dropped to the floor, “I feel like being with me is a waste of your time. A waste of your love. You know? You should be with someone good. Someone with less baggage, whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of innocent people.” He dragged his gaze up to meet yours, desperation in his eyes. “I want to give you everything- I want to give you the world. But I can’t. I can’t give you what other people can. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t want any of that- I don’t want the world,” you shrugged. “I want you.” To you, it was simple. Completely uncomplicated. But Bucky didn’t see it that way.

“Is that- am I enough, though? I mean, the quality of life I’ve given you so far has been…” He thought back on all the terrors and trials you’d face together. All the disasters to which he subjected you. He shuddered. “Everything I put you through is so fucking messed up. And scary. And painful. And-” 

He shook his head. Since the day he fell for you, he knew one simple truth. And for years, he did his best to deny it. Hide it. Run from it. But it came spilling forward all at once.

“There’s always gonna be something with me. Some problem, some mess. I’m either gone for weeks, fighting god knows who, completely unable to talk to you until I show up at home covered in blood,” he said. “Or I’m here with you while strangers to accost you on the street because they hate me.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Why did he allow you into his dumpster fire of a life? Why would he subject you to the heartache and the misery he knew lurked around every corner?

He fought the tears gathering in his eyes, the emotion that attempted to block his airway. “The waters are never going to be smooth. Not with me. And I don’t want you to have to deal with the fucking tidal wave of bullshit that is my life. You deserve better- you deserve better than me.”

“Buck-”

“I want your life to be safe. Peaceful. Comfortable. Not-” he gestured to the icepack on your chest, “whatever it is now.”

Without a word, you took him by the hand and led him to the couch. And for a long moment, he refused to sit with you. He didn’t want to give in, to lower his defenses and allow himself to get comfortable. But your red-rimmed eyes, glassy with tears, forced him to take a seat.

And when he finally rested beside you, you ditched your icepack and took his face in your hands. “Everything you said that you want for me? I already have it. I have all of that.”

He shook his head, “Doll-” 

“You make me feel safer and more comfortable than I ever have. Being with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket made of bullet proof bubble wrap.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet laugh. 

“I’m serious. You can talk about how the life I lead with you isn’t enough and how you’re not enough, but this,” you gestured to yourself and then him, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. Being here with you in our home is… it’s the most peace I’ve ever known. Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it’s- it’s warm. It’s comforting.” You inched closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s like we’re the only two people on the planet. And we can just exist in the other’s atmosphere without pressure or fear. We understand each other. And it’s perfect.”

A rush of pink colored Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes, even after all the years he’d spent with you, he didn’t know how to handle such loving sentiments. But there was no pressure to perfectly articulate his thoughts or express himself without flaws. A simple “I love you” did the trick. He leaned into you, allowing your warmth to soothe his aching soul.

“All that shit that happened today didn’t even bother me much,” you told him. “The lady in the bookstore, and the staring, and the coffee thing- I can deal with that kind of stuff. I can take that every day as long as I get to be with you.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair and caught a vague whiff off coffee but didn’t bring it up. 

“The only part that really upset me,” you continued, “was seeing people be so mean to you. And watching you get so down on yourself.” Reliving Bucky’s heartbroken expression at the diner almost made you tear up. “I can handle a rogue Starbucks, but I’ll never accept anyone treating you like that. You're everything to me- you always will be.”

Bucky handed you your icepack, begging you to put it back on your scalded skin where it belonged. “Well, I appreciate your support," he smiled to himself, "and your fierce loyalty.”

A mischievous laugh rumbled out of your chest. “Good. Just remember than when I call you from the county jail after I get arrested for burning that fucking newspaper to the ground.”

---------------

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[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: you get arrested and sent to the fortress of meropide after being oblivious to a Fontainian crime, so your boyfriend Nuevi gets you out by striking a deal with the Duke, Wriothesley ;)

tags: threesome, double penetration, semi-public, vulgar, explicit

wrd cnt: 500+

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

You couldn't believe the circumstances you were in, who knew Fontaine had some obscure rules with loans? One overdue day and you'd have rather get strucken by a loan shark than be sitting in the Fortress of Meropide right now.

You did get one call though, and of course the most sensible person to contact right now was the Ludex, who just so happened to be your partner. He could surely get you out of here, if anyone.

It was almost a whole hour wait, as Neuvillette was in the middle of a trial, but left as urgently as he could to come get you. That wasn't the only obstacle, the most difficult was the Duke.

"I'm sorry Neuvillette, I can't bend the rules for you" the brown haired man stammered on, "as much as l've done it before...this one's out of my control. She's in the files now." He explains. "I could try but it's too risky".

You heard back and forth for some time.

After what seemed to be hours of negotiations, it seemed your boyfriend ran out of all his other ideas.

"If it's really this hard" Neuvillette said, putting a firm grasp on your thigh, pulling it open slightly, "I don't mind...sharing some of the difficulties with you, Wriothesley. You've always been one for risks."

You felt your face burn in a deep pink hue, was he really about to whore you out? In this cell?

"Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen..." You thought in your head.

"Mr Wriothesley, there must be a way we can figure this out?" You plead. Going along with your partner.

"You two...you're quite forward huh? Do I follow you clearly?" He asked, standing from his chair to approach you two while loosening his tie.

It was exactly clear, and Wriothesley was exactly right.

"This place is quite uncomfortable, I can't believe you'd subdue her to this, Duke."

"Well I'm not the one who built it you know, I just run the place."

"Well honestly we need to reevaluate, seems all too gauche." Neuvillette admitted, complaining about the bars he was pressed up against.

"S-slow down- fuck..." You breathe out, barely managing to keep your eyes open while the two men bicker while deep inside you, all too casual in such a risqué act. Your back was pressed up against Neuvi, resting your hands on his arms which held you up, cupping your ass, while Wrio held your legs up, pressing closely to your front while they both put their cocks in your wet hole.

"Aww...getting tired? I can assure you it's better than staying in here my dear" Wrio says, gripping your legs tighter as he smirks down at you "If you were to stay any longer, I'd be real hard for me to ignore you now after this..."

You hear Neuvillette scoff at his flirty remark, "treading dangerous waters now Duke, be careful" he said, a slightly threatening tone.

"Lighten up...just making some conversation." He says annoyed, tilting his head in curiosity at your face, shifting down to whisper close to you, pressing your legs against him closer in turn.

"What's your name sweetheart?" He asks. His lips brushing against your cheek.

Out of breath, you mutter it out for him, almost unnoticed over the sound of your sticky cum soaked cunt and his lower stomach slapping together. Your moans bounced off the walls in the cold dark room. You wondered if anyone could hear you.

If anyone was listening to you mewl and cry in pleasure over getting stuffed full of cock.

"Fuck...you're so tight, Y/n..." He grunts out, fucking you even harder now.

"You're being so good my love" Neuvillette speaks into your other ear, "I'm sure we'll get you out of here now" he assures, caressing your waist with his thumb as he holds you up, his cock slowly hitting the gummy spot in your pussy, completely opposite of Wrios animalistic thrusts. "Right, Wriothesley?"

"Fuck- you feel so.... Huh? Oh yeah just- don't worry hun...I'll..." Wriothesley rambles incoherently, drunk on your pussy.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

joel’s pussy eating game is RIDICULOUS!!!!! he claims to be into servicing ppl and he is but…. it’s more in service of himself tbh bc of how selfish and hungry he is

warning: squirting, oral, rimming

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy, clit/t-dick

he’ll start slow to ease you into it. long, broad strokes of his flattened tongue up your slit. wet kisses dotting your clit. lots of spit to get you nice and wet for his tongue to just glide along your cunt however which way he sees fit.

and once your own juices start to flow, loosening you up for him, it’s blood to a shark. one drop hits his tongue and he’s GONE.

“fuckin’ christ, you taste good. yeah… yeah, i need more of that.”

joel smushes his face into your pussy, his stubble prickling your hypersensitive skin, and he fucking LATCHES his mouth on your clit, bouncing his lips off your sodden flesh as he sucks you off. soon you’re leaking enough that he can slide two fingers into you with ease. he curls them up into your g-spot and keeps them there, pushing your button over and over to get you to burst.

and may god help you if you squirt.

it splashes against his face and you hear a deep, rumbling, feral growl. it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard from a man. one that reminds you of our basest urges, that we are naught but beasts at heart. horny fucking beasts possessed by pheromones and need.

“fuck yeah, c’mon. c’mon, gimme another.” he demands, starting his fingers right back up again, right into the swollen trigger point that has you gushing over and over. a firm hand cuts through the typhoon with a loud-

(SMACK)

on the meat of your ass.

“sit on my face. i wanna drink you.”

you peel yourself off his leather couch, knees buckling like a newborn fawn as you stand, and hobble over to where he’s laying on the carpet. he’s frantic, aggressive and repetitive in his orders.

“get over here... get over here, boy... get over here…”

your knees flank his head, facing his legs, and you lower yourself down until your pussy bumps his nose. he starts licking right away. you look down and his cock is throbbing, an angry shade of red. being that he’s been so generous to you, you see fit to return the favor. you lean down and take his cock in your hands, though you barely get to kiss it before joel intervenes.

“nope.”

he hooks his arms under your armpits, grabs you by the shoulders, and YANKS you backwards, pulling your face away from his cock and holding your back upright.

“nuh uh. fuck my face. i want you to use me. don’ worry ‘bout my cock, sweetheart, just fuck my face.”

you hesitantly hump his face, tiny jerks of your hips to get used to the feeling and get a rhythm down. as you grow accustomed to it, your soaked cunt easily glides across his face, your swollen t-dick bumps his lips and he sucks it in his mouth. his tongue swipes between your pussy and ass, your juices dripping down his cheeks.

eventually, you squirt again, just a tiny bit.

but it’s not enough.

“give it to me.” joel barks, and shoves his fingers back in for some not-so-gentle encouragement. “c’mon, kid, give it to me. squirt down my fuckin’ throat, c’mon. lemme drink you. gimme somethin’ sweet to drink, baby boy.”

you give him exactly what he wants, squirting right into his mouth in hot jets. his growl vibrates your entire cunt and he slurps it all up.

when it gets to be too much, you roll off him and onto the floor. the two of you lay side by side, gasping for air. his face is dripping, his wet hair resting on an incriminating wet spot on the carpet. you’re staring at the ceiling as it swirls, creating beautiful constellations in combination with the stars in your vision. joel reaches out and tugs you close to him. his overworked lips smooch your forehead, and he says,

“good boy. hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my fuckin’ life.”

[viixenvi]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲 | 18+

Summary: You and Spence have just come back from an amazing date, he watches you undress to change and it makes him very flustered. You notice he has a boner, and since he's not very experienced, you decide to help him through it.

Characters: Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub, oral (M receiving), praise kink, teasing, begging

A/N: Would you all like it if I made another like this but the reader has a mommy kink?

Your feet were killing you, the heels you wore had not been broken in yet so they still felt uncomfortable. It was worth it, the night had gone very well.

Spencer took you out to a very nice restaurant, though you two barely ate any of the food, it was still nice. You both decided it was probably better to have ice cream and walk in the park. Now you were home and Spencer was watching you.

"That was nice, minus the tiny food portions at the restaurant," You joke. Spencer laughs as he takes his shoes off and places them on the floor.

"We should have picked that underwater experience. Did you know they actually show you around twenty different species of sharks? There are more than 500 species all of them having unique characteristics and behaviors." You smile as he explains the types of sharks there are.

He loved talking about sharks, his fixation on them started when you mentioned you like sharks on your first date with him. You adored how much he wanted to impress you with these facts he knew.

"Baby, can you help me with this?" You point to the zipper of your dress. You walk over to where he is sitting and he pulls the zipper down. "Thank you, sweetheart." You see his big grin in the mirror. You can't help but just find him so cute.

His eyes are fixated on you as you slip the dress off. He's seen you naked before but it doesn't stop him from still being mesmerized every time.

"Like what you see?" You tease, pulling your bra off. His face goes red as he looks away.

"Y-You just look very pretty," He admits. He's so flustered and doesn't know what to do other than look at his hands.

You turn towards him, walking up slowly and putting two fingers under his chin. You push up and make him look at you. "What's wrong baby? Why so flustered?"

His eyes look from your lips to your eyes. You smile at him, leaning in and kissing his lips softly. "Do you need help undressing," He asks nervously. You can't help but giggle. He's still nervous to ask you these things like you'd ever say no to him.

You guide his right hand to your panties, pushing two of his fingers on top to pull them down. He watches you do this, waiting for you to guide him more. "Go ahead baby, take them off for me," You whisper, your hand running through his hair.

He bites his bottom lip, pulling your panties down and smiling up at you when they are off and in his hands.

Spencer looks back at your body, everything is in full view and it is all just so captivating. He can't keep his eyes off you, thinking of all the things you can do to him. He's not shy about wanting to be dominated, but he is shy about asking for it.

You radiate dom energy and he loves it, he just wants you to control him. Make him a good boy for you. Now all he can feel is the very obvious bulge in his pants.

"Please," He looks down at his crotch. You follow his gaze and smirk when you see it. You haven't even done anything other than let him help you undress and he's hard.

"Please what baby? I can't help you if I don't know what you need," you tell him, caressing his face with your hand. He leans into your touch and looks up at you.

"Please touch me," He pulls your other hand to his bulge. You are surprised by the action but you still squeeze it. He lets out a small gasp at the new feeling. Now wanting more, he pushes his hips up slightly for more.

Your hand moves from his pants to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. You throw it onto the floor and get on top of him. Your legs are on both sides of him and you are sitting directly over his hard cock that is still covered by his boxers and pants.

He looks at you with love in his eyes, everything you do to him makes him excited and wanting more. Your lips connect with his neck and you kiss down it. His hands are on your hips gripping them while he closes his eyes.

Your lips are soft on his skin as you kiss down his chest. He lets out gasps of air when you get to the space right above his pants. You reach up, unzipping them and getting off of him to pull them down. You easily pull the boxers down as well, leaving him exposed to you.

He watches you, propping himself up by his elbows. You get on your knees and lean against his legs, your hands on his thighs. "You look so pretty, baby," You whisper as you reach over to his hard cock. The pad of your thumb runs over his tip and precum leaks out.

He whines wanting you to touch him even more. You smile at him and wrap your whole hand around his cock. You tease him a bit, slowly pulling your hand up and down his shaft. He can't help but let out moans.

"More," he begs you. You gladly give him what he wants, and you push him down so he's lying back. Your lips meet with his tip and you lick over it just to see his reaction. His body jolts at the new feeling.

You continue, your tongue licking down to the base then all the way back up. He moans as you take in all of his cock, your mouth being warm around him.

His cock hits the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down finding a good pace to stay at. Spencer moans loudly, gripping the sheets as he tries to keep his legs from shaking.

The pleasure is coursing through him, he loves the feeling of your throat tightening around him. He knows he can't take much more before he cums. The feeling built up in his stomach.

You can sense he's close so you pull your mouth off with a 'pop'. Spencer whines at the loss of warmth and pleasure he was just feeling. He wants it back. His hands reach down to his still-hard cock, trying to re-create the feeling you had just taken away from him.

You push his hand away and he gets back on his elbows to look at you. "Why'd you stop?" he asks shyly.

"Should I let you cum?" You ask him. He lets out a whine as your hand goes up and down his shaft. He moans bucking his hips forward as his orgasm is nearing closer.

"Please! Please let me cum!" he begs you desperately. Your mouth meets with his dick again, and you suck on it while pushing down taking it to the base. You tighten your throat around his cock, staying like that for a moment.

That's all Spencer needs before his orgasm hits him with full force. His legs start to shake as he throws his head back with moans filling the otherwise silent room.

His cum hits the back of your throat as you pull your head up. He's gripping the sheets the high of the orgasm still hitting him. When the cum stops shooting out you pull off his cock and stand up.

You sit on his lap, pulling him in for a kiss. The cum in your mouth is being pushed into his as you pull away from the sloppy kiss. Spencer's eyes are still foggy, he's in a little bit of a haze from having an orgasm, this was only his third time ever.

"Such a pretty boy," You whisper to him, admiring his face. He blushes, pushing his face against your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist.

[nelkcats]

Unexpectedly normal

John Constantine falling in love with an Eldritch creature wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever loved. After his dates with King Shark and some demons, this was among his most normal romances!

Phantom seemed like a creature of darkness and ice but he was the opposite: attentive, kind and loving; things that generally shouldn't be combined with Constantine (given his usual tendency to blow his chance with anyone who treated him well), but something made him stick with him.

Sure, the Justice League Dark judged him every time they saw him but he couldn't care less. When Phantom nervously told him he had something he wanted to show him, John was prepared for anything: a cult, a corpse, some crime he'd have to feign ignorance of (he didn't mind helping with a crime or two).

He hadn't expected Phantom to decide to show him his "true form" (Unexpectedly his boyfriend looked human, usually the opposite happened to him!), and sheepishly admitted that the first time he came to the dimension his powers had gotten out of control, leaving him in a form he used very little. And fuck, his boyfriend was hot as hell.

Constantine remembered when they met, he remembered the cult summoning "the most powerful creature in existence", he remembered the dread he felt when he saw Phantom appearing in all his Eldritch glory, but most of all, he remembered his disbelief when the creature started scolding the cultists as if they were children.

Phantom admitted his name was Danny (Danny Phantom, he just forgot to mention it), and he didn't know how to tell him, he looked so nervous that John couldn't help but joke with him.

"Are you human? These are things you talk about in time, bloody hell" Constantine pretended to be offended, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket "you know damn well I don't date normal humans sweetheart."

Danny looked confused, but understood what was going on in a matter of seconds.

"Lucky for you I'm not a normal human" Danny joked, taking the cigarette from his hands "I'm half ghost, a walking physical impossibility, is that enough for your dating standards?"

John pretended to think before shrugging and kissing him; sure, he'd have to get used to the lack of darkness, and extra organs (though he was sure he could persuade Danny to switch between forms), but as far as he was concerned, this was just a win-win.

Danny wondered if he should have started with Phantom's form first but he had no desire to give the hellblazer more ideas. He was aware of his partner's odd tastes, so he was actually nervous that he would reject him for being human (which was definitely a big difference from Amity), but as John kissed him just as intensely as always he guessed there was nothing to worry about.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Sir.Cuddlesworth

M.S

Synopsis: Back at the triplets’ Boston house, you tend to cuddle with Trevor, the boys’ dog, more often than you do with your boyfriend Matt. So, you decide to be a sweetheart and led him your favorite shark stuffed animal, Sir.Cuddlesworth.

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Fem!reader

Warnings: None! just fluff <3

A/N: This was requested, but tumblr decided to be a bitch and delete the request, but here it is anyways! The req was “Trevor steals you from Matt” from anon! Thank you🤍

“Trevor!” You squealed, looking from the couch, at the dog. The dog stopped in his tracks, before looking at you, his tail wagging.

You came to Boston with your boyfriend and his brothers. You had been friends with the boys for as long as you could remember, you were even so close, that you moved to L.A. with them. Nate was offered too, of course, but the boy decided he’d stay in his hometown. It was a regular thing that you’d come back to Massachusetts with the boys, to see your mutual best friend, Nate, the triplets parents, and of course your parents.

You had been dating Matt for the past two years, and everything was going perfectly. You couldn’t deny your feelings for the boy, nor could he deny his for you. You were understandably scared to start the relationship between you two, in fear if you ever broke up that it would ruin your friendship with him and his brothers, but that didn’t seem to be something you would have to worry about. You didn’t plan on breaking up with Matt anytime soon, and he felt the same way towards you,

“No, baby-“ Matt mumbled, his grip around your waist tightening, as you attempted to squirm out of his grasp to get to the dog. “Stay.” Matt firmly spoke, but he knew you wouldn’t listen regardless.

You finally got out of his grip, and you rushed to the floor, Trevor immediately running up to you. He ran into your lap, and Matt let out a pouty groan, as he flipped his body to face the couch, in attempts for you to feel bad for him. You, however, knowing the boy was doing this to be silly, decided to stay with Trevor.

“Hi, Trev! I missed you!” You cooed, and Matt let out another groan, louder than the last. “Matt, hush!” You demanded, and he huffed. You looked down at the dog in your lap, before standing up, holding Trevor in your arms. You made your way up the stairs of the house, as you went into Matt’s childhood bedroom.

You knelt down in front of your still packed suitcase, and pulled out a stuffed animal you brought with you everywhere, Mr.Cuddlesworth. The stuffed animal was a Great White Shark, a fuzzy material that was soft on your skin, the white on the belly turning a slight grey due to its old age.

You took the stuffed animal in your arms, before standing up and walking back downstairs, making sure Trevor was walking close behind you.

You made it back to the couch downstairs, seeing Matt exactly where you left him.

“Baby?” You called out, and he turned around, facing you. “Here.” You smiled, handing him your shark.

“Sir.Cuddlesworth? Whats this for?” He asked confused. You sat back down on the floor, and Trevor crawls back into your lap.

“Now we both have a cuddle buddy.” You smiled brightly.

“Awwwe! You’re so adorable,” Matt chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your head, and you let out a small giggle. “Thanks for Sir.Cuddlesworth. I’m so grateful to be blessed upon him.” Matt holds the shark up next to him, inhaling your scent.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

Yes, this was supposed to be a short :3 I wanted this one to be short and sweet. <3

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso

[tarotwithavi]

Some nicknames your future spouse may call you by

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Guess who's back with another Post 😈😈

Pile 1

"Sweetheart" , "Sweety Pie" , "Lovely", "Honey" "Dazzle" "Charm" "Cupcake" "Blossom" "Starlight" "Queen bee" "Enchantress" "Darling" "Angel" "Princess" "Love" "Beautiful" "Sunshine" "Gorgeous" "Treasure" "Sparkle" "Adore", "pearl" ,"Serenity" "Gem" "my wife", "Butterfly" "Cuddlebug" "Precious", "Moonbeam", "Wonder" "Beloved"

These are some of the nicknames that I was able to pick up on. I also see that they won't be a particular nickname for you because we will call you by every nickname they can imagine. I am getting really romantic energy from your future spouse. They seem to be deeply in love with you. I also see that your relationship with them is going to be really stable and there won't be any room for second guessing and misunderstanding.

Pile 2

"goofball" , "mine" , "my tornado" , "ocean" , "Thunderstorm" , "Ride or die" , "the love of my life" , "daymaker" , "cuddlemaster" , "baby momma" , "sugar" , "luvbug" , "Not fast but always furious" , "my chatterbox" , "my destiny" , "Dinosour" , "Pikachu" , "Yoda" , "nugget", "mommy shark" , "Aphrodite" , "sleeping beauty" , "Elsa" ( because you may have cold hands?)

I see that the majority of you guys may be short? Or you'll be much shorter than them. I also see that your relationship maybe a bit more chaotic but in a funny way. I'm talking about the pranks and fun times you guys will have with your future spouse. You guys may like to pull each other's leg and be weird together. I'm also getting the message that they may be someone you never thought you would want to date? Like someone really unexpected. They may not be your ideal type but this relationship is really spontaneous and fun.

Pile 3

"Brainiac" , "babe" , "Smarty Pants", "Genius" , "8th Wonder of the world" , "Beauty", "Einsteinette" , "Cookie" , "Princess" "Savvy" , "star" , "Night Owl" , "Cutie patootie" , "Mensa Marvel", "Spark" , "Sweetcheeks" , "Belle", "Sage" , "IQ Angel" , "Bright Eyes" , "Darling" , "Astute Angel" , "Treasure" ,"Soulmate" , "my moon" , "my sanctuary" , "my universe", "loli" , "chiku?" , "bunny"

Your future spouse will respect you a lot and your relationship is really mature. I see them literally worshiping the ground you walk on. They will put you on a pedestal. "Respect" , "maturity" and "understanding" are the words that describe your relationship. I also see that you may already know who this person is going to be because I see that you're really intuitive yourself or you may have a dream or two about them. But whenever you meet them you're going to know that this is your future spouse.

[msgexymunson]

🖤 Please note asks are CLOSED my sweethearts, I'm working on my own novel! If you happen to be a literary agent get in touch 😉 🖤

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Updated 24/04/2024

For those that have been asking, here's my masterlist! Minors DNI

💖Comments and reblogs are a writer's best friend, Reblog and comment on my work and I'll love you forever, promise. 💖

❤️= contains smut!

💋

Fan Fiction

The Ink Shop Part 1 ❤️ The Ink Shop Part 2 ❤️ The Ink Shop Part 3 ❤️ The Ink Shop Part 4 ❤️ - Tattoo Artist Eddie x Inexperienced Fem Reader

Highest Bidder ❤️ Valentines Day Eddie x Fem Reader

Brand Spanking New ❤️ Dom Eddie x Sub Fem Reader

The Code- ❤️ Switch Dealer Eddie x Switch Fem reader

One Slow Blink Part One and Part Two ❤️ alpha dom monster Eddie x sub fem reader *monster naughtiness*

Benefits ❤️ virgin Eddie x virgin fem reader

Dr E. Munson D.D.S ❤️ soft pleasure dom Eddie x sub fem reader

Soft Touches ❤️ Switch dealer Eddie x Switch Fem Reader

The Food of Love Eddie x GN reader

Shotgun ❤️ cocky experienced Eddie x virgin band geek fem reader

Sammy's Mom ❤️21 Eddie x MILF 40s reader

Treasure ❤️Sub Eddie x fem reader

Forbidden Fruit ❤️Forbidden Fruit part 2 ❤️Forbidden Fruit part 3 ❤️Forbidden Fruit Part 4 ❤️Forbidden Fruit Part 5 ❤️older dom Eddie x younger sub reader

The Rhythm Of The Night ❤️older Eddie x fem raver reader

First Time ❤️sub virgin Eddie x dom fem reader

Overwhelmed ❤️Overwhelmed Pt 2 ❤️Sensitive reader

Red Handed ❤️exhibitionist reader x dom Eddie

Rumour ❤️Rumour Part Two: Rose ❤️Rumour Part Three: Roles ❤️Rumour Part 4: Risk ❤️Rumour Part 5: Ready ❤️Rumour Part 6: Rite ❤️ - Younger reader x dom tattooed/pierced Eddie

Please, Say My Name ❤️Older reader x virgin Eddie

The Knight and The Maiden ❤️Virgin reader x Eddie

A Bit of Skirt ❤️Sub reader x Dom praising Eddie

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me ❤️Sub reader x Dom Eddie

Keep Up With Me ❤️Dom Reader x Sub Eddie

Flash ❤️Sub reader x Dom Eddie

Kickstart My Heart ❤️Kickstart My Heart Pt 2 ❤️Switch reader x Switch Eddie

Brat ❤️Very dom Eddie x Sub reader

Kitten ❤️dom mean Eddie x Sub fem reader

Christmas with Eddie fluffy Eddie x fem reader

Your First Tattoo fluffy Eddie x fem reader

Heart Beat - Coming Soon

Short Fics/Drabbles

Eddie and The Goblins ❤️ Eddie x fem reader

Baby Shark ❤️ Eddie x fem reader established relationship

Prettiest Bitch ❤️ joking/mean Eddie x joking/mean fem reader

Life Hack ❤️Idiot Eddie x slightly dom reader

Library Sex with Eddie ❤️ Dom Eddie x Sub reader

Sitting on Eddie's face ❤️

Transfer Proof

Getting Ready With Eddie

Break the Record ❤️

Eddie Comforts You

Getting Caught with Eddie ❤️

Wearing Eddie's shirt❤️

Punishing Sub Eddie❤️