#i definitely do not have enough time to get really anything more than a half assed load of dishes done

[seedling-lotus]

...

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Seriously, it gets feral in a way I didn't anticipate and I'm the pervert who wrote this.

Bucky sleeping naked. We're back to this again cause I'm a pervert and he's a cutie, I can’t help it. Why do I find it adorable. Sexy. So pretty. And the different of versions of this?

Imagine being Bucky’s roommate and having to deal with different types of Buckys. A shy, soft Bucky is always in the softest pj’s, cotton t-shirts and warm sweaters. He is truly the sweetest, more precious thing on the planet, always making you a steaming cup of coffee in the morning and hot chocolate at night.

You don’t think much of it when you slip into his room to return the hoodie you stole and you all but faint when you see him practically starfish on the bed, soft snores slipping past his lips, the bedside lamp still on along with the book his was reading half open on his chest but that wasn't what you were looking at cause-

You shouldn’t even be here, you should look away, you really should but it’s not your fault that he has the prettiest cock on full display with perfect, heavy balls in between plush thighs. You're not sure how someone so sweet and pure can look this sinful, nearly tearing the hoodie you're clutching onto the longer you wait by the door.

Idk why my mind went here but imagine he's soft but gets hard when he smells you. You're close enough in his room that your shampoo and something so distinctly you fills his senses. It's not his fault his senses are heightened. I mean imagine you see it happen. A cute little groan as all the blood rushes down between his legs, his cock now standing at full attention, stiff and begging. Leaking.

You're frozen on the spot, begging for your feet to move, just drop the hoodie and run, anything but no. He's still asleep, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his pulse starts to work a little faster, his hand coming down to soothe the ache, his book slipping off his chest.

You should definitely leave now, it's too intimate, you can't be here when he-

"mph" His sleepy movements are barely coordinated as he gives his cock a squeeze, his cheeks getting pinker by the second. He rolls over with his face now buried into the pillow, pressing his hips against the mattress for some relief.

I can't deal.

Innocent Bucky having a wet dream over you.

Innocent Bucky making a mess because of you.

Innocent Bucky acting normal around you the next morning, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of you while you stutter a thank you and he says you're welcome doll, like he always does.

Innocent Bucky still too shy to tell you that he jerks his cock off to you more times than you can count. That he adores you too much, he'd never be so crass to make a move on his roommate. He's still working up the courage to ask you on a date. Till then he's gonna fuck his fist and hump his bed and think of all the ways he wishes you were naked with him, your legs around his waist while he pounds you, filling you up while you scream his name-

-

Fuck boy Bucky shows himself off without a care in the world. You start to wonder if the man owns anything else aside from a few slutty pairs of boxer brief's. He's always manspreading and it's hard to act like it's an inconvenience when he's built like that. That being said, it's not like you've seen all of him. He leaves little to the imagination but it's not like he walked around naked.

You'd never openly admit you were a little curious.

You find out he's put your mug on the highest shelf again and you swear he does it on purpose just to mess with you. You grumble, ready to tell him off, walking right into his bedroom, his full legal name right at the tip of your tongue-

"Fuck-"

His chest rises and falls along with his soft snores, one arm propped under his head while the other is half one his chest. His thighs were spread apart without a care in the world and not a single piece of clothing covered his body, bed sheets also tossed aside.

Apparently the serum made him run hot.

Every single bit of him is on display, the only thing he's wearing are his pretty silver dog tags. You freeze, blinking, your tongue now tied, you were so annoyed with him and now-

"Y'like what you see angel?" His raspy voice makes you yelp as he keeps his eyes closed but the smirk that makes its way to his lips lets you know he's more than awake now. You have no idea when he woke up or realized you were there but you can't get your feet to move, voice caught in your throat.

He doesn't even bother trying to cover up, unbothered at the state you're seeing him in.

Imagine this cocky fuck going as far as giving his cock a lazy tug and he can definitely smell how wet you are. He knows you're getting wetter.

"Need something baby, cause I gotta take care of this or I won't fall asleep" He cocks an eyebrow, nodding down to his hard cock before looking back at you. He's not going to tell you yet that he'd been pining after you with the most desperate crush. That he keeps those mugs up high on purpose so you have to call him to get it for you.

"I-I

"Don't get all shy on me now princess, better lock the door on your way out unless you're gonna stand there and watch?" He gives himself another lazy tug, this one followed by a groan.

Fuckboy Bucky who loves the way you look like a deer caught in headlights.

Fuckboy Bucky who strokes his cock while you watch.

Fuckboy Bucky who lets out a deep, raspy, "Fuck baby, just c'mere" when he hears a desperate whimper slip past your lips.

Fuckboy Bucky who gets you naked with him, not wasting a second to get inside your pussy.

Fuckboy Bucky who runs his mouth too much and mumbles an unconscious "Fuck, i love you" when he starts to cum.

and cum.

and fucking cum.

Fuckboy Bucky who confesses his feelings.

Anyway.

Naked Bucky in bed.

That's all I want.

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[superhoeva]

bouncer!logan spotting you at a halloween party he's working the door for. it's annoyingly cute how you fumble about when you find out that the there's a door fee and you have no cash.

he lets you squirm for a bit, enjoying the troubled expression on your face before the pinch of your eyebrows forces a sigh from him.

"okay look," the man starts, arms crossing as he motions for you to lean in. thinking for less than a second, you follow the direction, not catching the way logan drags a hard stare across you and your skimpy costume. "'m really not supposed to be doing anything like this. but one, i don't give a fuck. two, you're cute enough to break a few rules for."

with his jaw clenching at the way you can't hide your pleased grin, logan continues.

"gonna let you in for free, but you're gonna have'ta owe me a little somethin' in return."

an eager nod from you has logan biting his tongue. his hand reaches to rub at he growing hair of his beard, pretending to consider his options. finally, he speaks, purposefully lowering his voice so you have to shift even closer.

"use this pretty face and get me a couple'a free drinks? since you don't have any cash and all..."

"okay," you nod again, teeth grazing the corner of your bottom lip. "what do you have a taste for?"

logan's skin heats at your question, shoving the first answer that comes to the very back of his mind.

"nothing too sweet." he's got to save that craving for the possibility of tasting you. "just beer. nothing special."

you're a wizard. logan's certain of it after you bring him the fourth bottle of beer, this time with a glass of something for yourself.

"jesus," logan huffs. "you're wringing 'em dry in there, pretty."

you shrug at the man, slinking atop the stool he brought to keep his back from aching during his downtime. he can feel your eyes on him as he chugs down half the bottle, staring at the bobbing of his adam's apple as he drinks.

lowering the bottle, logan swallows and turns to you. your gaze flicks to the side of him, pretending like you weren't just oogling the shit out of him and how tight the black v-neck he's sporting is.

logan takes the thick silence as a chance to really look at you. take in your costume of black spandex shorts, blue crop top, and empty thigh holsters.

"lara croft," logan finally figures it out, and you grin a little over the rim of your glass. "...you wear her well."

another smile from you and logan nearly squeezes the bottle so hard it breaks. a tiny laugh from you breaks another round of heated silence.

"i miss somethin'?"

"no," you promise him. "it's just... i've spent more time out here than in there. even after you let me in for free."

logan sniffs, meeting your eyes in his lean across from you.

"don't worry, ms. croft. i definitely don't mind."

after that, you end up staying with him for the rest of the night. leaving you his seat, logan standing all broad and strong whenever someone enters, letting you hold the cash he collects from each patron. he sends a wink your way every time he turns to hand out the money but nearly growls out at anyone that asks about you.

"keep movin', bub," logan warns the latest inquirer who lets his eyes linger a little too long for your liking. the guy isn't smart enough to heed the first warning, going as far as ignoring logan to lean in your direction.

"come find me later, yeah?"

you don't get a chance to answer. logan's got him by the back of the neck, shoving him out into the cool fall air of tonight's evening without a second thought. dusting off his hand, logan ignores the man's whines about the cash he wants back, and turns to find you blinking at him with a squirm.

he steps to where you now stand with his eyes hooded, slicking out one of the tens from your grasp. neither of you says a word as logan folds the bill, and encircles his arms around you. your breath hitches at the hand logan plants on one of your asscheeks. he glides the money into your back pocket, biting his lip.

"my shift ends in an hour. i can show you an actual party worth your time if you're up for it..."

warm and dazed, you nod. logan grins a little, squeezing the flesh under his hand before returning to his post of strong, crossed arms and back turned to you while he faces the door.

logan grins again, this time wider, at the way he can feel your gaze burning a hole into his ass.

[erwinsvow]

Imagine if Rafe let R try a joint

Like, her brains getting all fuzzy and she's even more giggly than usual, and he's just, like enamoured. He thinks she's adorable.

"one hit, that's it-" rafe says, low and quiet in your ear.

you're curled up on his lap at the party, both of you resting on the couch while you observe the scene around you with big eyes. rafe's friends were snorting powder off of mirrors, washing it down with liquor that was definitely harder than the fruity seltzer your boyfriend allowed you to drink. rafe said you couldn't handle anything harder, and you agreed without questioning him, like you always did.

you had pointed to the white lines on the table infront of you and asked him as sweetly as you could if you could try some. kelce overheard you and starts pushing the mirror in your direction, and you look at him with a smile, before rafe stares him down and delivers a tap to your cheek. it's just to get your attention, not really to hurt you, but you feel your face flushing where he touched you when he speaks.

"hey, you don't listen to him, you listen to me, right?" you see kelce in the corner of your eye, taking the tray back and offering it to the girl next to him.

"i know, i just-"

"no, no just anything. y'can barely drink this watered-down crap without trippin' over your feet." he rests back on the sofa, hands gripping your waist and leg tightly. "wants to snort coke. you're funny, kid."

you pout, taking another sip of your drink. you're only half way through the can but your head is starting to feel fuzzy, already. you decide then and there that rafe always knows best for you, but you still want to try the things he tries, show him that you can handle it. the boys next to rafe pass a blunt over you, directly to him. when they blow out the smoke, you start coughing, but watch carefully as your boyfriend takes a long hit. just as he's about to pass it across to kelce, you catch his wrist.

"can i try that instead? please?" you try your best to straighten up, to show him you can take it and that you're not already drunk. "please," you whine, and his friends turn their head to look. you're sure that they think it's silly, the way you have to ask rafe for permission for everything and anything. you don't care, though.

"kid, stop-"

"i can take it, promise. just this time. i won't ever ask again."

that's how you had ended up like this, rafe talking into your ear while he holds the blunt to your lips.

"alright, suck in. long as you can. you're a pro at that, aren't ya?" his words make you lose your concentration, breaking into a coughing fit before you can even try to inhale.

"rafe!" you whine again, pummeling your fists into his chest, still choking on the smoke. your throat feels scratchy but you know that couldn't have been enough.

"what, kid, i gotta do everything for you?" he takes a long hit, and then grips your cheeks with his hand, forcing your mouth open and then blowing the smoke into your throat for you. then he clamps it shut, holds your shoulder while you cough, and passes the blunt along to kelce.

you cough a little, but before long, you're putty in his arms, leaning your head against his shoulder and giggling at nothing. you poke at his chest and then start playing with his chain, then his hair, and then back down to his fingers. he lets you do it, watching you play with his ring and pressing a kiss to your forehead. you're cute like this, he thinks, less shy and not as worried what everyone must think about you. he thinks he likes it, that maybe he should let you smoke with him every once in a while.

"feel good, baby?" he asks in your ear, and you squirm in his touch, pulling away before resting your head again.

"mhm. really good. this is fun. wish it wasn't a crime." he laughs, taking another sip of his beer. you try to copy him, reaching for your seltzer but knocking it over by accident.

"oops," you say with another laugh. "sorry to-wait, whose house is this?"

"c'mon kid, makin' a mess," he groans, picking up the can and watching the fizzy liquid travel.

"sorry, daddy." in your state, you don't realize how loud you said it, but even with everyone's eyes on you, you don't care much, smiling back sweetly at rafe.

"alright, we're leavin'."

[flemingology]

neglected ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia has been neglecting your relationship for a while, but things blow up when she forgets about her own son

warnings: not too descriptive but just a bad relationship, alexia neglecting you and your son

wc: 3.3k

a/n: tried my hand at writing some angst. not my best work, but i love this trope lol.

When Alexia and you first started dating, the two of you couldn't get enough of each other. Between her busy football schedule and your busy work schedule, every single second of free time was spent together. Nights out, nights in, cooking together, lounging on the couch, it didn't matter to either of you what you did, as long as you did it together.

Dating Alexia was pure bliss. The Spaniard showered you with love, adoration and loads of affection every day again and again. She was away often, either on away games with Barcelona or on camps with Spain, but she made up for it in the time you spent together. Making you coffee every morning, doing household chores on weeks she was home so you could take a break, cooking for you, taking you out for dinner, Alexia had one love language and it was clearly acts of service.

With time your relationship only grew stronger, the both of you nothing short of adored by the other's family, steadily cruising towards your fourth year of dating one another. The topic of kids arose one night, and while you hadn't really talked about it before, you quickly agreed that it was something you really wanted. In the next few months you figured out the logistics, and you started your IVF journey. You decided it would be best for you to carry the baby, as you were able to continue your work from home and you definitely wouldn't want to take Alexia away from her career and doing what she loved most for multiple months while you could just carry the baby without too many problems.

Your pregnancy went by without too many hiccups. You had the usual symptoms; morning sickness in your first trimester, backaches, joint pain, weird cravings, but nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed like you and Alexia grew even closer together during the 9 months that you carried the baby, and you'd never felt happier in your 26 years on the planet than now. You were starting a family with the love of your life and you were beyond excited to meet the little human that was growing inside of you.

You found out you were having a boy about 5 months into your pregnancy. Alexia and you held a little gender reveal for your closest friends and family, not wanting to go overboard with anything as neither her or you were all for the big reveals or parties. You kissed your girlfriend fiercely as blue confetti swirled around you, whispering declarations of love against her lips as the world around you faded for a moment.

Your baby boy was born a couple weeks early. Not prematurely, the nurses assured you many times that there were only little women that carried out their 40 weeks to a tee. 37 weeks and a half, nothing to worry about. He was healthy, and you couldn't have wished for anything more than that. Baby Matías.

Your first couple months with Matías really tested your patience. He wasn't an easy sleeper, didn't settle easily, needed nursing at irregular hours, you and Alexia struggled as she went back to being a full-time footballer and after a couple months, you had picked some work back up too. Only when Matías started going to daycare, things started to change a little. The little bundle of joy would use up all his energy at daycare every day, and would usually fall asleep quite quickly at night – allowing you and your girlfriend to get back to a slightly more set sleep schedule too.

When Matías turned one year, you invited all of both Alexia's and yours family for a birthday party. You decorated the house accordingly, had a cake made with all types of colors – Matías loved bright colors – and he received an abundance of presents. Shame he wouldn't remember.

In the couple weeks after his birthday, it felt like something had changed between you and Alexia. The Spanish midfielder came home late more often, and while you usually wouldn't bat an eye at that, 5 extra so-called tactical meetings in 6 days seemed a little overkill. She didn't make an effort to help around in the house anymore, coming home she usually just spent some time with Matías before going up to bed. Without waiting for you. That's what struck you most. Of all things that Alexia loved doing with you, snuggling up in bed, talking about your day, doing other things, was up there with her favorite things. But you decided to let it slide. Maybe the Barca team really needed that much more tactical meetings.

You don't know when it shifted. She started missing date nights. Her sacred date nights. If anyone had told Alexia a couple months ago that she would deliberately miss a night out with you, she'd have slapped them across the face with more force than her average penalty kick. 6 months after Matías was born, Alexia and you had decided to pick date nights back up. Not in the frequency of before, but twice a month. Your son would go to Eli or your mum, who'd both never say no to having their grandson over for a night. He was in good hands they'd assure you again and again. She missed two in a row. For the first one, you'd made a reservation at a little tapas bar that you knew she'd been eyeing for quite a while. It was new in town, and you just hadn't had the opportunity yet to go. You were waiting for her there, dressed in a new black dress, tapping your feet as each passing minute that she ran late made you feel more ridiculed. No text. No call. You ordered a drink, to be nice, gulped it down and left.

You argued that evening. Late, in bed, when she joined you at an inexplicable hour. No excuse this time. It was hushed, quiet, not wanting to wake Matías who was sleeping in the room next to you, but it was heavy. Alexia promised she'd do better. She kissed your worries away, but if it wasn't so dark in the room, you'd have seen in her eyes that she was just saying what she knew you wanted to hear.

Matías' second birthday was similar to his first. Despite, this time he demanded a Spiderman-themed party and cake. You went out of your way to pick up all Spiderman stuff, from cups and plates to napkins and balloon. Personalized cake, of course. If Alexia had been more around, she'd probably have bought even more stuff. But she wasn't. Busy. With football, you know. Somehow, busier than she'd ever been. Despite having told you when you got Matías that she'd take on less brand deals. Agree to less media. You were done arguing. You didn't want to fight for something that you knew you were the only one still wanting. It was clear that Alexia had fallen out of love with you. No more morning coffee, no more aid in the household chores, no more cooking when she wasn't home late for once. You stayed with her, for Matías. That's what you'd tell yourself. But deep down, you were staying because you wanted things to go back to normal. For her to see you. Really see you. To make her fall in love with you again.

You two had fallen into a rhythm. It would go downhill, you would barely see Alexia for a couple weeks and then it would explode, you would yell at her and she'd say sorry, make it up to you with hushed whispers, kisses and explorations of your body that made you feel like you were on top of the world. Only for you to crash down. Hard. Again and again.

That she was neglecting you, was something you'd get over. It hurt. It hurt really bad. The woman that you thought you were going to marry, had started acting like you didn't mean anything to her anymore and it crushed you. But the second she started neglecting and forgetting about her own son, is when you knew it was getting out of line.

It was Matías' first day of school, the first time it happened. You had dropped him off together, neither of you wanting to miss out on the moment. You hugged him goodbye, wiped a couple tears away and Alexia promised that she'd be there tonight. To pick him up, because you had a meeting that would run past 3pm. Alexia was supposed to be at the club until 1, so she would have the time. However, for some reason that she tried to explain to you late at night, she didn't. That reason was bullshit, though. You knew she forgot. You could tell by the way the kitchen sink was littered with a couple coffee mugs and some plates. She'd brought some of the girls over for an afternoon chat. She forgot about your son. You got a call from the school at 4pm. You usually didn't pick up your phone whilst in a meeting, but you excused yourself. For obvious reasons. They told you that no one had picked up Matías yet. She asked if you were still coming. You tried not to sound annoyed over the phone, not wanting to direct your anger towards Alexia to the nice secretary. You promised her you'd be there in a minute. Matías was sad. Clearly. He clung to you in a way he never had before when you went to pick him up. "Where is mami?" he asked again and again. You wondered the same thing.

When you entered the house a little past 4, meeting long forgotten, with Matías on your hip, Alexia's eyes widened. She palmed her face and cursed under her breath. You didn't give her the time of day, let her apologies fall on deaf ears, and played with Matías in his room for the remainder of the afternoon.

You fought that night, again. Less hushed. Less whispered, and Matías definitely heard it this time. No kisses to make up for it. Ice cold silence. Alexia knew she'd lost you. She never wanted it to come this far. She knew she had been neglecting you, and it was nothing but her fault. All she needed to voice to you was that she needed a break. Not from you, but from her life. Her day-to-day job took so much of her energy that she just didn't want to deal with what was waiting for her at home anymore, and that was wrong. She had a 2 year old son and a girlfriend of 6 years waiting for you, both always hopeful of spending an evening with their respective mami and girlfriend. But recently, she hadn't found the energy to do anything but put her clothes in the laundry and fall asleep. You'd take care of the rest.

It wasn't until one random evening in the middle of the summer, that all hell broke loose between the two of you. Matías had a play date with his nephew at Eli's, leaving the two of you to your own devices for the night. You couldn't remember the last time you and Alexia were alone. Bi-weekly date nights long forgotten. You came home from an excruciatingly long day at work, wanting nothing more than to just flop down on the sofa and get your weekend started with a glass of wine and some take-out.

Entering your shared apartment, though, you were met with a sight you'd nearly forgotten still existed. Alexia was standing behind the stove, stirring into something that smelled suspiciously much like your mother's chicken soup recipe. "What are you doing?" You questioned sharply. Alexia was startled by your voice and looked at you sheepishly. It had been a while since you had spoken to her so directly. "Uhm– I'm cooking?" You scoffed, turned on your heels and left. Alexia hadn't expected the chicken soup to be some sort of magic healing potion for your relationship, but she had hoped that you'd at least show a little appreciation. She had no idea of how deeply rooted the problem was. She'd been distant, yes. Absent. But she assumed you'd understand. Understand that she hadn't kissed you more than a peck since a couple weeks. Understand that she hadn't hugged you in ages. Understand that you hadn't had sex in what felt like months. You finally understood what people meant with "the spark being gone". You always thought it'd never happen between you and Alexia, but you figured your relationship wasn't as perfect as you once thought it was.

Alexia emerged a few moments later, a bowl of steaming soup in her hand, placing it in front of you on the coffee table. "Para ti," she said, with a small smile. "What are you doing, Alexia?" You repeated your words from the last time. "I cooked for you." "Yeah, I can tell. Why? You haven't done anything for me bar give me laundry in months."

You'd been co-existing. Living your own lives, in the same space. You didn't know how it had been at football, you wouldn't know how they were performing if it wasn't for the social media of the club. You didn't know how Mapi and Ingrid were. You didn't know what awards she had or hadn't been nominated for and you certainly weren't in the loop anymore with how things were going with the Spanish federation. Alexia didn't know you got promoted. She didn't know you'd been drowning in work for weeks on end. She didn't know that her lack of help in the household had lead you to overworking yourself, having an online therapy session once a week whilst she was at training. Or in a meeting. Or God knows where. You didn't know anything bout each other anymore, and as much as you tried to hide it to the outside world, people started catching on. You were never ones to be very public with your relationship or showy with your affection, but when you stopped coming to bonding nights with her and when she stopped coming to your work events, it was clear.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I've been neglecting you. I'm here to make it up. Por favor."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Alexia was apologizing for the past couple months with chicken soup. You closed your eyes, took a composing breath and locked your gazes.

"Are you fucking serious, Alexia?" Her eyes widened in response and she gave you a sheepish look. "You're fucking kidding me." You stood up and looked down at her, a pointed look in your eyes. "You've been acting like I don't exist for the past couple months. God forbid you let me know where you are, when you're running late, what you're doing. God forbid you greet me when you come home, let alone your son! He asks about you every day. He asks where you are, what you're doing, when you're coming home, and all I can say is that I don't know. That I don't know where you are, that you're probably fucking some other bitch again while we're waiting for mami to come home."

Alexia tries to interrupt you at that, but you hold up a hand and give her a challenging look. "Let me fucking speak, Putellas. That you're neglecting me, I've put that past me now. You know, you've fallen out of love. Shit happens. I'll get over it. But forgetting Matías? Really, Alexia? Your own fucking son? Something died inside me that day, honestly. Getting that phone call from school was one of the most disheartening things I'd ever experienced in my life. You wanted this boy just as much as I did. You spoke to him in my belly for 9 months. You cradled and hugged him for hours on end after he was born, you bought everything for him that he wanted, never one to say no to him. What the fuck happened, Ale?" The nickname slipped out before you could even register what you were saying. "Alexia."

"Honestly, I don't know what happened between us or between you two, or between you and whoever you're fucking, but this needs to stop. I'm nothing more than a fucking maid to you, Alexia. I'm good to cook, clean, do the dishes, do your laundry, but besides that you don't even look at me anymore. You wouldn't stop looking at me when we first started dating. I'm good to take care of your child, the child that, let me remind you, you wanted just as much as me. But this honestly feels like i'm a single parent, Alexia. You don't take him to school, you don't take him to his grandmothers, you don't go with him to his football practices or games. I get that you're busy. You've always been. I knew that when I started a relationship with you. But you always found time for me. For us, especially. I can't do this anymore, Alexia. Not with you. Not with the way you're treating me right now. I deserves so much better. Matías deserves a better mami." You see hurt flashing through Alexia's eyes at your last couple words, but she knows you're right.

You take a deep breath and sit back down, eyeing the now mocking bowl of soup that was still on the coffee table. You consider trying it, you knew she went through the effort of perfecting it with your mother's recipe, but you don't want to give her the satisfaction. It's quiet for a while, until she speaks up.

"Look, for the record, I know it's not the most important thing of what you said, but I'm not fucking someone else. I promise you. I'm faithful to you. Always have been, always will. I love you." You scoffed at your words, but let her continue. "I was always this busy, I just used to move or cancel my appointments. I know it's wrong for me that I'm not doing that anymore. I know I've been the worst. I've been a bad partner and an even worse mami. And I feel so bad about it. But I don't know how to fix it." A tear escapes her eye, but you can't find it in you to care. Not when you've cried so many about her, that she didn't see. "I want to be better, truly. For you and for him. I fucking hate being so distant from you. But I don't know how to get you back. I've been thinking about it for weeks, how I'm gonna try and win you back." You process her words but can't help but think that she's just trying to rope you back in, without actually meaning what she's saying. She wants you to say for her own convenience, not because she loves you. So before you can get lost in her apologies and promises, you get up. Alexia's eyes follow you and you can see the unshed tears welling in them. "Don't," she whispers.

You move towards the door, and you should probably be thinking about this a little longer, you don't even have a goddamn back-up plan, but you need to get out of here. "I'm picking up my stuff tomorrow. I'll tell Eli that Matías can stay over at hers and I'll pick him up there." Alexia crosses the room in a quick few strides and hovers behind you, her eyes sad as she watches you slipping away from her fingers. "Por favor, quédate," she says softly. "I can't, Alexia." You shake your head and meet her eyes one final time. "I can't. You're ruining me." Your voice is harsh, too harsh, when you say your final words. You open the door. "Come back to us when you can find it in you to start moving your stupid media appointments again. Or celebrate the birthday of your son. Or pick him up from school, for God's sake."

You slam the door shut.

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[tmpestuous]

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’) 

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.” 

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up. 

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times. 

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night. 

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position. 

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom. 

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in. 

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all. 

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair. 

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up. 

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time. 

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough. 

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

[midnightcrw]

Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of discrimination (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: This is my first time writing for Alastor and anything related to the Hazbin Hotel, so I hope you all will like it. Please tell me if there's anything in this one shot that might offend anyone, and I'll do my best to change it or clarify my thought process.

Charlie was walking around in circles because of the fact that her dad was going to come over to the hazbin hotel for the first time.

And while everyone seemed quite unbothered, she couldn't calm down while Vaggie was currently helping Sir Pentious put up the decorations.

"You have been walking around in circles for the last fifteen minutes, darling," your voice was heard as you put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

She stopped abruptly as she felt the weight on her shoulder and turned her head slightly to look into your eyes, "It's just been a while since I've seen him and I really want this to go well."

Her usual optimistic tone was much less energetic and confident as she started to look around, clearly avoiding your eyes.

You let out a sigh, a small smile finding its way to your lips as you cupped her chin between your thumb and forefinger, "There's nothing to panic about. I'm sure everything will go perfectly."

Your words seemed to calm the blonde down a bit as she gave you a slight nod, "I hope you're right," she muttered as you let go of her chin.

With that, Charlie made her way over to Vaggie to look at the decorations she had put up with Sir Pentious.

You just smiled at the sight when you suddenly heard a low static behind you, "She's been all over the place since the call," Alastor mused, his sharp grin never leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes at him, you opened your mouth to speak, "Let her be, she's trying her best."

"Oh, I know, my dear. I want the best for Charlie too," Alastor's words made you shake your head, knowing there was more to it, but even with you, he wasn't eager to share that information.

If you had known that you would be bound to him even in hell, you would have run as fast as you could in your mortal life.

But your 'lovely' husband had a way with words even then. Even if the two of you didn't marry for love, there was definitely something there.

Back in New Orleans, Alastor had a hard time because he was half Creole. He was always at a disadvantage because he did not fit into the standard, even though he tried his best to somehow blend in.

But radio was really the perfect solution and a passion of his. It even helped him because no one saw his face and only had to listen to his voice, which even he had forced to sound different, his usual deep tone becoming much higher to fit into the society.

And once he became famous, he even started to change his appearance. His usually dark brown wavy hair was straightened by him, while he also started to dress like the rest of the crowd.

But even then it never seemed to be enough. His tan complexion was still striking to some, as people began to gossip about him from time to time.

The prejudices against him never stopped, as people even started to question him because he wasn't married, making him out to be a cruel man who couldn't even find love, and that's where you came in, to get rid of at least one of the many talked about topics about him. At least then the people of New Orleans would know that Alastor really was a lovable man.

You really couldn't have cared less about the standards and the gossip that had made its way when Alastor started to pursue you back then. Even though he did not even reveal his intentions at first, you could still tell that there was more to it than just love in itself.

And even after he revealed his true intention behind a marriage, you accepted it. You didn't really have anything to lose anyway, and his charming words seemed to sway you somehow.

However, getting married and playing the role of a happily married couple had been a struggle. Both of you being at each other's throats, but never really being able to truly hate each other, was definitely odd.

But leaving that aside for now, there were more important matters at hand as you let go of your thoughts of the past.

"Just don't ruin this for her," your stern tone was obvious and with that you went over to help Niffty with cleaning up.

A few minutes passed and everything seemed to be perfect now, but not for Charlie.

"What if he hates the way the hotel looks?" She asked herself, her hands pulling tightly on her hair.

"He won't. You don't have to worry. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you at all," Vaggie said in a reassuring voice as she put an arm around her girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

That little gesture made Charlie blush as she leaned against Vaggie, trying to calm herself, and when she felt ready, she made her way to the door.

"Okay everyone, it's showtime!" She said with a smile on her face, looking at everyone as the door was suddenly flung open by Lucifer, who said his daughters name and hugged her tightly.

Standing near the door, Alastor looked at the two of them with a crazy glint in his eyes and his never-ending smile showing his teeth.

And that's when you knew that this wasn't going to end well.

As Lucifer looked around the hotel, Alastor didn't seem happy at all, angry at the fact that he was being ignored.

"It's got a lot of character... What in the unholy hell is that?" Lucifer asked in a disbelieving tone, as a frown made its way onto his face.

Already knowing that Alastor wasn't going to hold back now, you let out a heavy sigh as you rubbed your temple.

"Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit of color, don't you think?" Your husband's voice was heard as Lucifer then proceeded to ask who he even was.

And with the blink of an eye, Alastor is now at Lucifer's side. "I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure," he replied as he wiped his hand on his coat.

You were about to slam your head against the wall when you felt someone tugging at your dress. "He's a bad boy," Niffty said in an excited tone, staring at the King of Hell while you just felt a shiver run down your spine in disgust at your friend being lusted upon.

"You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast," Alastor said with a sinister grin on his face as he held his microphone. Knowing him, he loves to be acknowledged and it didn't look like Lucifer was going to give him any of that.

"Nope, I guess that's why Charlie called it the Hazbin Hotel," Lucifer said, emphasizing the 'haz'.

"Hahaha! It was actually my idea!"

"Hahaha! Well, it's not very clever!"

"Haha! Fuck you!"

Hearing that, you immediately made your way to Alastor as you and Charlie interrupted them, earning a look of shock from Lucifer.

"Is it really you?" Lucifer asked, his eyes wide as he looked at you. And before you could even answer, he threw himself at you, nearly crushing you to a second death and leaving you breathless.

"It's been years!" The King of Hell shouted as he let go of you to examine your face. You let out a chuckle, "It has indeed been a long time."

The interaction between the two of you naturally caught everyone's attention, as they all had a confused look on their faces, except for Alastor, who seemed to be losing his patience by the second.

Not even letting you two continue reminiscing, Alastor put an arm around your waist, causing you to gasp in surprise, as he wasn't usually the one to show off your relationship, especially to Overlords and anyone above that position.

"From where do you know him, my love?" Alastor's static-like voice was heard loud and clear as he pulled you even closer.

Before you could answer, Lucifer interrupted. "My love?!" He asked in disbelief and disgust.

"Oh, yes. 'My love,' the beautiful woman I'm so smitten by," Alastor was really putting on a show as he even planted a small kiss on your temple.

Your arm made its way around your husband's back as you pinched his waist in annoyance, eliciting a small static screech from Alastor.

"You really have some nerve, don't you?" you whispered in a caustic tone as your face came closer to his, wanting only him to hear it.

But even with that, the man dressed in red didn't shy away to take it completely somewhere else, "Just a few minutes, my darling. Then we'll have some time alone. Oh, and how she loves it, almost shameless, isn't she?" Alastor went on talking while you cursed him in your head.

You knew he was only doing it to rile Lucifer up, but of course the rest of them didn't know that.

"So Freaky Face does fuck," Angel Dust mused with a grin on his face as Husk slapped him on the back of the head.

"You sleep with that?" Lucifer asked in a disgusted tone as he ran towards you, pulling you out of Alastor's tight grip as he took a few steps away from your husband.

"Are you sure this is what you want for your future? Are you even sure it is worth of dating?" The short man asked you, almost even praying for you.

You apparently forgot to mention that you and Alastor have been married for decades, but you definitely wouldn't tell him that right now.

"It's a he," you simply replied.

"Well, I couldn't care less about it."

[augustinewrites]

does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can. 

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before. 

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place. 

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.” 

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head. 

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out. 

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.” 

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!” 

he regrets it as soon as he says it. 

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.” 

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket. 

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him. 

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.” 

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat. 

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.” 

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

[dixonsstinkysock]

It’s Temporary

AN: This was going to be a random blurb but I’m too into this and he’s such a dork. Guys don’t tell anyone but I kinda wanna write smut, I’m not going to because I’m scared but y’know.

(Heavily inspired by a bot on C.AI, pretty sure the user is @/zetali_09 so if you see this i love you.)

Warnings: Swearing, mention of an apartment blowing up….suggestive???

Set during Season 1, before the timeskip…

The cold, Upper city, night air chilled you to the core. The dark streets only illuminated by the few street lights scattered here and there. You wrap your cloak around you a little tighter as you made your way to the meeting spot. Making a sharp turn down a dark alleyway, you narrowly miss a couple of enforcers doing their nightly rounds.

Leaning against the cool, damp, brick wall. Enjoying the noises of the city, letting time pass by as you wait for your companion. Around a half an hour later, you hear heavy footsteps and the soft click of the high-cost, well made shoes echoing throughout the alley. You recognized those steps, he saved up for a long time to purchase those shoes, no way could you forget them. You open your eyes, turning towards the culprit of the noise. “Took you long enough, thought I was gonna rot out here.” You smiled at the shadowed man, stepping into the moonlight.

“Sorry, had a few things to finish up with my work. Left later than I expected…”

You walk up to him, trapping him into one if your famous bear hugs. An unfamiliar scent wafts from him, its sweet…it’s expensive. Definitely not his signature cologne smell—no, something different. You both stay there for a moment, enjoying the new company. Everything seems to fade away when your with him, it’s like he’s the cure to your disease.

“Been a while since we last talked—“

“Yeah, I…” You pull back, looking Jayce in the eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s been alot going on.”

His hands come up to your face, gently caressing it. He’s always gentle with you, a contrast from the rough, dangerous streets you grew up in.

“Hey…What’s going on?” His voice is soft and smooth, with the occasional voice crack, it’s not fair. His looks already make him desirable, but hearing him talk to you with that tone? Drooling.

“It’s my siblings, they’ve been getting into more and more trouble.” You fully pull away from him, turning towards the lit up entrance of the alleyway. “It’s like Vi doesn’t even realize how bad things can really get.”

“Hey—“ He takes a step foward, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you to him. “I’m here. I’m here to help—with anything. We’ll figure this out okay?”

A bittersweet smile graces your lips, you close your hand over his placed on your shoulder.

“You don’t know the Undercity, Jayce. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help me on this one…”

The two of you stood there, unspeaking. You can practically hear the gears burning inside Jayce’s head. You can almost smell the smoke coming from them, It’s obvious he’s thinking of ways to try and help you and your family. After a moment, you rest your head onto his chest, defeated, and looking for comfort.

“I can’t let you risk you life for this. You have too much ahead of you.”

You feel his arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

“There is nothing ahead of me without you.” You lock your arms around him, holding back a few tears. Jayce feels you taking fast, deep breaths, attempting to keep your composure. It’s all been alot, apparently your kid siblings were being nosy—blew up some guys apartment. Now every enforcer in Piltover is searching for them. You take a deep breath, leaning up straight to face him again.

“I won’t let you risk your life for me…risk your future—”

“I’m not some idiot throwing himself into danger for fun! I’m protecting someone I love.”

That. That catches you off guard. Yes, you two have been messing around every other night, cuddling after, speaking soft sweet words to each other…but love? He didn’t really love you did he? You’re from the Undercity. The scum of the scum. He’s from the top, he’s perfect. No way he actually means this…does he?

“I’m choosing to do this because I care about you, I care about your family. You aren’t alone in this, no matter how much you think you are.”

Time stops for what feels like hours, you gaze into his eyes, trying to find some kind of sign to tell you he isn’t being true. You can’t. His caramel eyes look gold from the street lights, determined and dead set on aiding you. You let your head fall onto his chest again, giving him your unspoken permission to help with your situation.

“I just realized I didn’t ask about how you’ve been.”

His arms tighten around your body, gently rocking you both back and forth. “Ha…” Jayce lets out a breathy chuckle, preparing himself to recount the most recent and life changing events. “It’s been different…Some guys blew up my apartment.”

You freeze. There’s no way they did that. It can’t be the same apartment right? How many apartments blow up in Piltover? Oh my god. My siblings blew up his fucking apartment. “Uh…” You can’t even form a sentence, still shocked at the new information. What are you going to tell him—

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah—are you okay? You’re fucking apartment blew up!” You pull back from him, facing him again. Your hands find their place on his waist, trying to ground yourself after what you were just told.

“My back’s still a little sore but I’m fine.”

“How much did you lose?” His mood darkened, eyes darting to the ground. “Alot.” You take a deep breath, This shouldn’t have happened. He is a good man, maybe a little crazy sometimes but—good. This whole thing is a mess. Jayce doesn’t know your sisters are the ones who blew up his apartment, you can’t go and get onto them for this because they don’t know you’re with him. You’re stuck, with no one to go to, maybe Vander but…he’d get upset that you’re up here with a topsider. Just so happens, he’s the same topsider your sisters were targeting.

This is fucking stupid.

After giving him your apologies, you realize it’s getting light. You should start heading back home, hopefully without Vander noticing you were gone.

“Jayce, It’s getting early. I gotta start heading back…”

“So soon..?” He smiles, he’s clearly up to something as he brings his hands up to your jaw. The sun is slowly rising, changing the sky into beautiful hues of orange and blue.

“Have to get back before Vander wakes up, I do not wanna hear that lecture.”

“Do you have to? Maybe you could…stay with me?”

“Stay…Topside. With you.”

“Yeah, I mean we could spend the day together. Go and do something…” He takes your hands into his own, engulfing them. You take a moment to think about his request. It’d be fun spending time with him, you’d be able to really enjoy his company. Not waiting for something or someone to come out of the shadows, trying to rob you or worse.

“Okay…What did you have in mind?” A smug look slowly plagues his face as he takes your hands into his, leading you out of the alley and in the direction of his temporary home.

“Trust me?”

You grip his hands tighter, letting him lure you into whatever devious plan he’s set up.

“Maybe…”

Two shadows danced against the stone road, slowly disappearing as the sun rose higher into the sky. One by one, doors open, carriages roll by, and the occasional stray kid runs in front of you two. None of that matters, not when his callused, warm hands are handling you so gently. When he looks at you like you’re his world…like he can’t live without you.

It definitely doesn’t matter when he pulls you into his hotel, hands roaming each others clothed figures as he closes the door behind you.

Guys…Part 2?? What y’all think 😈

[azrielbrainrot]

Under Your Sharp Teeth

Pairing: Vampire!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Vampire!Azriel, Blood Play

Description: Your curiosity about vampires leads you to a night you will never forget and a drastic change in your relationship with Azriel.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, a bit of edging, a bit of cockwarming, vampire bites, blood and blood play (some of this is definitely unhygienic), some dirty talk

Word Count: ~3,1k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: I still can't believe I'm doing this, but welcome to the first day of kinktober. Also there's a lot of filthy smut on here, don't get me wrong, but this somehow turned out a bit fluffy too and now I'm contemplating writing more of these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Holding onto sanity was proving to be more and more of a challenge with each thrust of Azriel's hips, slowly stretching you out and driving himself impossibly deeper inside you. Fingers lost in the black strands of his hair, probably pulling too hard as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded in the moment, desperate whines and embarrassing moans leaving your mouth unattended.

His mouth busied itself with leaving marks and small bites all over your neck and chest, his sharp canine teeth caressing your supple skin ever so slightly - a preview of what was to come. Gods, he hadn't even truly started and you were already losing your mind.

If you had known asking Azriel more about vampires would lead to this, you would have swallowed your nerves and asked a long time ago. The fact that he was one was never a secret between you - it really was impossible for Azriel to be mistaken for a human when his eyes glowed red and his teeth were sharp enough that a simple smile would put them on full display, he also looked too otherworldly beautiful, unbelievably so, - but you were scared of overstepping since you hadn't been friends for too long.

All those worries seemed silly now. Azriel had let you ask him as many questions as you wanted, answering them all truthfully, until you asked him about feeding and what a vampire's bite would feel like. The words had barely left your lips when a smirk grew on his face, his hand coming down to hold your neck, a scarred thumb trailing down your throat as his red eyes followed its path before meeting your startled gaze once again, offering to show you rather than explain it. You had almost forgotten how to breathe, nodding quickly in agreement.

He kissed you in the next moment, taking you by surprise, but with a couple strokes of his tongue against yours and a few sweet words he quickly explained that he needed you to relax before biting you, so he didn't hurt you. There seemed to be some hesitation in his eyes as he did, maybe this had been more than you bargained for, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, grabbing his neck and pulling him back to you, kissing him again in lieu of an answer.

From the moment his lips touched yours, a hunger rose within you, overtaking your every thought, almost making you forget you were the one about to get bitten.

“Azriel,” you whine for what feels like the millionth time, desperately trying to get his attention.

As quickly as he had agreed to show you, he seemed perfectly content with playing with you, his hips setting a delicious but slow pace, making him go impossibly deep inside you, rubbing against every pleasurable spot, keeping you stimulated enough to make you want to beg him to just do anything, be it fuck you into the mattress or sink his teeth into your neck.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, letting his teeth catch onto your skin, only enough to leave a mark, before licking the sting away with his warm tongue. He comes up to look at you then, searching your half lidded eyes before adding, “I told you I needed you to relax.”

“I'm more than relaxed, Az,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, hoping to at least keep him looking at you like this, even at his torturous pace you think you could cum if he kept watching you like you put every star in the sky, could bask in the way his brow scrunches softly with every thrust of his hips, knowing it's you who's making him feel good. Looking at him like this makes you wonder why you had never tried pursuing a romantic relationship with him before.

“Are you?” He leans down and pecks your lips. You nod as he moves even closer, your breasts pressing against his body. “There's something else you should know.” His hips stop moving as well, meaning he wanted you to pay attention, something you were somewhat unwilling to do in these conditions.

“Az,” you can't help but whine again, drawing out his name.

He shushes you with a kiss before continuing. “Vampires don't only bite someone to drink their blood.”

“Won't you drink mine?”

“I will,” he assures, voice deepening with hunger, hands tightening their grip on you. It looked like he was even more impatient than you, which meant what he needed to tell you was extremely important. “I want to taste you.”

“Then why won't you?”

“Vampires can feed off anyone, even animals. It's a clinical bite, meant to allow us to drink as much blood as possible without making too much of a fuss.” It's hard to follow along with his explanation while his hard cock is seated so deep inside you, but you do your best to understand. “That's the most common bite. That's not meant for you.”

Oh.

“It's not?”

“No. There's nothing common about us, love.”

Oh.

You let him kiss the momentary worry away, a funny feeling spreading to all your extremities as his words sink into your skin. “When a vampire bites someone, a venom is released from their teeth. It's usually used to numb them so they feel no pain or struggle too much as we feed, and to help the wound close up and heal quickly.”

Azriel trails off, leaning down to leave a sweet kiss over your skin, where you assume he wants to sink his teeth into. He keeps nuzzling your neck as he continues, looking almost scared of your reaction, “Vampires can bite their lovers too, and this venom will leave a mark behind,” he pauses, “I suppose it would be the equivalent of wearing a ring on your finger, one with my name on it.”

The weight of his confession sobers you, thinking back on all your memories with Azriel, all the times he made you laugh and held you when you cried, the advice he's given and asked from you, the way he's been by your side ever since you met, supporting and taking care of you. There isn't any doubt in your mind that you love him.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you massage his scalp softly, trying to get rid of some of the tension that had built in his body while you thought through his words. Azriel lets out a satisfied sigh, relaxing against your body, and you take the opportunity to pry him away from your neck, holding his face in between your palms and meeting his gaze.

“You want to mark me as yours.” It's meant as a question, but it comes out sounding like a statement. He nods in response all the same, closing his eyes and giving you another kiss, as if he was scared it could be his only chance to. “I'd like that.”

“Need you to be sure about this,” he whispers against your lips.

“I am, Az,” you reassure quickly. “I want you to make me yours.”

The next kiss is significantly more passionate than any other you've shared that night. He explores your mouth slowly, tasting you thoroughly as his hips finally start moving again, grinding into you deeply, still keeping you on the edge. By the time he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips, you were already on the verge of begging once again.

Azriel adjusts your legs, wrapping them properly around him as he positions himself at your neck. Goosebumps spread all over your skin in a mix of excitement and a tiny twinge of fear. You trusted Azriel with your life, but it's not lost on you that you're serving yourself up on a platter to a creature that could easily kill you. Unfortunately, that only makes it so much more exciting.

“Try to stay as relaxed as you can, and don't hold your breath,” he mumbles against your neck, “I promise I'll make you feel good, love.”

His teeth sink into your skin as soon as the words leave his mouth, too quickly for you to properly react right away, stunning you for a second before the sharp pain registers and you can't fight a small gasp from escaping you. You can feel your body tensing, trying to distract yourself from the pain and relaxing like he told you to, his hand caressing you softly, helping you calm down.

The pain doesn't last long, in reality it might have only been a few seconds before it started dissipating. He hums against you when he feels your body melting into his, his thrusts speeding up a bit. That venom of his not only took your pain away but is also increasing your pleasure somehow, every little sensation just feels heightened.

It takes you a moment to notice the warm liquid running down your chest and likely dripping into the sheets, knowing it's your blood doesn't make you scared or even the slightest bit worried. In fact, the only thing on your mind are the muffled, little noises escaping his lips as he laps up as much of it as he can - he likes it, Azriel likes your blood.

Your fingers had found his hair at some point, hips chasing his as best as you can, movements becoming more sluggish as he not only fucked so deep inside you but also drank more and more of your blood. You were close, embarrassingly so, but with how long he had been teasing you before and the almost aphrodisiac reaction your body is having to that venom, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Azriel knew how close you were, whether from how much you were clenching around him or from the whiny, unintelligible babbles of his name and pleas escaping your lips, and right when you were about to throw yourself off that precipice head first, he bites deeper into you. It sends you into that orgasm even faster, your body conflicted on pushing away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure and pulling him in deeper when it hits you.

You wouldn't call your previous sexual experiences lacking in any way, but nothing could compare to what you were feeling in that moment. The sensations rushing through your body are indescribable, it makes you forget yourself, drowning completely in the pleasure.

It takes you a long time to even catch your breath as you come down, and it's only when he caresses your face as you finally open your eyes that you even notice he had pulled away, looking down at you with a satisfied look in his eyes even though he hasn't finished yet and barely got any stimulation of his own.

The moan that escapes you when your eyes fully come into focus is downright sinful. Nothing could have prepared you for the way Azriel looked in that moment, with his eyes glowing a deeper red, hair messy from your fingers twisting around it, and his canines on full display, covered in blood, your blood, as was the rest of his mouth and lips. The possessive look in his eyes as he watched you, already marked as his, didn't help either, it triggered your own possessiveness, knowing that it's your blood in his mouth, it's just a shame you can't bite him yourself.

What you could do was kiss him. Using every bit of strength still in your system to lift your face up, you try to meet his lips. Azriel stops you before you can though, pushing you away gently with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Let me wipe the blood off my face first.”

It was sweet that he was worried about you, but that was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted to taste him, needed to taste yourself on his tongue, and that's exactly what you did, grabbing the back of his neck firmly and pulling him down, meeting him halfway in a messy kiss.

You can feel the exact moment he realized you weren't worried about the blood, groaning into your mouth, a needy sound coming from deep within his chest, his hips stuttering into you. The kiss intensifies, sharp teeth clashing against yours, letting you taste yourself like you wished. You may not be able to sense the mark he left on you, as you were not a vampire like him, but the way he kissed you with your blood still in his mouth felt like a mark of your own.

Azriel pulls away after a while, letting you catch your breath, sitting up so he can properly look down at you. His red eyes took note of your entire body, starting on your heavy lidded eyes, still clouded with remnants of the intense orgasm, your abused lips, saliva and your own blood coating them, trailing down your neck, where he could see the puncture wounds healing thanks to his venom, but also his mark, the one that would let every vampire that came into contact with you know he was yours.

He had tried to not make too much of a mess, but it had proven damn near impossible when he tasted you, your sweet blood making him momentarily lose himself. Blood had dripped down onto your bed, thankfully he had put a towel under you beforehand, it also trailed down your neck, paving a delicious path between your breasts, pooling at your belly button, only a few drops managing to make their way down to your stuffed cunt.

There was little room for hesitation when you were looking up at him like that, basically begging him to do something. Azriel leans down for a moment, licking the bite mark once more, reveling in the tremble that runs through your body at the sting. As tempting as it was, you couldn't handle another bite. He'd have to do with the blood you had already let out for him.

He comes back up, gaze locking with yours, hands falling to your hips as he finally starts thrusting into you properly, a hard but slow pace, so he could still play with you without overwhelming you too fast.

“You're doing so well for me,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, but you hear him all the same, rewarding him with a sweet moan.

One of his hands abandons its grip on your hips in favor of running a thumb down the valley of your breasts, gathering the blood collected there and carrying it to one of your nipples, circling it slowly, making an even deliciously bigger mess, goosebumps running through your body as he does.

You looked unbearably close to another orgasm, the venom that heightened your pleasure still present in your system, but he wanted to keep you like this, you looked too adorable when you were this fucked out, letting him do every little dirty thing he wanted to you. He had always known you would be perfect for him, but you still managed to surpass his expectations.

Azriel switches hands and gathers up more of your blood, giving your other nipple the same treatment. His eyes constantly darted from the way you desperately tried to keep watching him, eyebrows scrunched together, to his thumb rolling over your nipple, and the way you took his thick cock so beautifully, unable to decide what sight was more enticing.

“Never thought ah- that you'd be so mean,” you manage between harsh breaths and needy whimpers.

He can't help but chuckle at that, stopping his movements around your nipple just to see the pout form on your lips. “I think I'm taking very good care of you, my love.”

Raising his thumb to his lips, he sucks the leftover blood on it, watching your eyes tracking his movements carefully, before offering it to you, breathing out a moan as you eagerly take it into your mouth, circling your tongue around it and sucking it clean with a devilish glint in your eyes - a payback of sorts, shame he had you in the palm of his hand today, maybe you'd get to try reducing him to the same state with your pretty mouth another time.

His finger comes out of your mouth with a pop, clean of any blood. That wouldn't do. Dipping right into your belly button he drags his thumb down to your clit, coating it in blood and rolling it around the same way he had done with each of your nipples, letting out sweet praises at how well you're taking him as he watches your body tremble under him.

The sight could have been enough to send him over the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his control slipped and both of your moans got louder, more desperate. Not fucking you senseless had been a challenge ever since he first slipped inside you, stretching you out slowly until you fit perfectly around his cock, and now that you both got what you wanted, he had no patience left in his body.

Throwing a leg over his shoulder, Azriel starts fucking into you at a punishing pace, your moans rising in volume as you clench wildly around him, hands coming down to hold onto his wrists tightly, nails biting into his skin, both the venom and the way he's been teasing you for so long making you that more sensitive.

“Want you to feel you cum on my cock again, alright?” You nod quickly, fighting to keep your eyes open as another mind breaking orgasm approaches. “I'm right there with you.”

It doesn't take long for both of you to reach climax, your arms coming up to grab him down to you as you get lost in the pleasure once again, holding him so close even as you came down that Azriel felt his heart swelling in his chest.

This hadn't been how he envisioned telling you about his feelings, in fact he still needed to actually talk them through with you after washing away all the blood and cum off your body, but it ended up being perfect nonetheless, and as he kisses the mark he left on you one more time, he finds he has no regrets.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

[cannibalizedlove]

Watching you.

Information and warnings — Creepy Donnie, stalker, talks of masturbation, virginity, sex, I don’t know if this is intense enough to warrant a “Dead Dove Do Not Eat” but it’s in that realm so be advised, match his freak? (his freak is criminal behavior).

Donnie Darko was a boy you didn’t really know, you were aware of his existence, yes, but you didn’t really know anything about him except he had terrible handwriting. The two of you sat shoulder partner style in English class. You never really interacted other than the few times you would be missing notes from the day you were absent prior and you had asked permission to copy off of him.

This exchange meant nothing to you, it was to you a simple transaction, nothing more than an easy opportunity to cheat on the next quiz. Yet to Donnie, this was the start of a new life for him.

Donnie had a tendency to get obsessed with things, ever since he was little. When he was younger, he was obsessed with war movies, he would rewind the tape just to watch the bomb scene again and again. Destruction was only the start of his concerning interests. As he grew up, so did the obsessions, a few years prior he was stuck on guns. He passed it off as an interest in fighting for his country, drawing back to the war films, but in reality it was the power of destruction held just by his finger on a trigger.

Now a new one had formed. You see, what you had believed was simply copying notes, was to Donnie; an invitation to a new obsession. He began watching your every move, he knew every tic you had, every nervous habit, every scab that you didn’t know how to leave alone.

Donnie watched you like it was his job, and you didn’t notice it at all.

Donnie was great at that, really. If he was ever called out on his creepy behavior, he easily passed the blame on to his hallucinations, he would pretend to break down and explain that he didn’t want to be a bad guy! It was the people in his head! You have to believe him, sir!

Be it the hallucinations didn’t help his creepy behavior, but they definitely weren’t the only cause of it. Donnie knew he was concerning, and it was a thrill to him.

Yet, you knew nothing about it, you didn’t even notice him.

A part of him resented you for it, he hated you for it. Why won’t you look at him? Why won’t you give him what he desperately craves?

The other part of him, though, loved it. Donnie could stare at you for hours, and you didn’t even notice. You were so oblivious, it was so cute. Donnie thought about the danger you could get yourself into being this unaware, how some terrible person could hurt you, and you wouldn’t even know why!

You should thank him really, if it weren’t for Donnie following you, you could’ve ended up with a real nutcase as a stalker!

The thought of someone else watching you the way Donnie did made him violent, he wondered if any other guys or girls at Middlesex thought about you the way he did. He knew he would take care of them if they even thought about making a move on you, you were his! You just didn’t know it yet, but you didn’t know a lot of things really.

The stalking started out tame, he’d follow you around school, memorize your schedule, take notice of all your stupid friends who weren’t half as interesting as you were. It made him angry, you hung around such stupid people. Why did you spend so much time with these idiots when you could be with him, loving him, taking care of him.

You would soon, he just had to teach you!

The stalking evolved over the next few weeks. He just wanted to make sure you got home safe! Oh, and of course he wanted to know your favorite drink from the gas station! It’s his job to know this, silly!

You know, it’s really dangerous to keep your blinds open, you should invest in curtains! What if a sicko wanted to watch you get changed.

Donnie wasn’t a sicko though, so it was okay for him. It was just to learn about you more, he loved learning about you! He loved learning that you still wore superhero underwear, and how you had all your favorite bands on your wall. On his walk home, he bought a tape from one of your favorites, and hoped you didn’t miss the pair of underwear he took.

Donnie used the pair he took to masturbate frequently. He thought about you when you would listen to your walkman and dance around your room in nothing but a tank top and boxers, or how when you would masturbate yourself you would get really embarrassed after you finished.

He wondered about your virginity, had you slutted yourself out to one of the Middlesex losers, or if you were waiting for the perfect guy such as himself to take it from you.

Sex with you is what he thought about oh so frequently. Sometimes he thought about taking you out to a really nice restaurant, and bringing you home to meet his family, and then make love to you. Other times he would think about opening your window and going from there.

Donnie didn’t want to hurt you, well he did, but only if you would let him! He would never do something you didn’t want, that you knew of.

He just wanted you to notice him, for you to be as in love with him as he is with you! You were Donnie’s whole world, he told his therapist about you every session. Under hypnosis, he told Dr. Thurman he wanted to have sex with you, and she had to wake him up before he could continue his thoughts.

The lack of attention was starting to annoy him more than ever. You didn’t understand. He was perfect for you. Did he have to spell everything out for you? He knew he wasn’t in love with someone dumb. So he began to talk to you more and more to show you how much you really did need him.

You thought he was sweet, he was attentive when you spoke like every word that came out of your mouth was the most interesting thing he had ever heard, and he would leave you little notes in your bag when you were leaving class.

It was only a week of talking before the boy asked you to go with him, and you thought it was the cutest thing. You told him about your favorite bands, and movies, and he smiled and said the two of you should watch them together sometime.

Silly you, he already knew all this. You didn’t have to find that out though! You were his now! It didn’t matter how you got to this point..

[sunderwight]

disciple luo binghe, running errands for his shizun one day, somehow manages to be in the exact wrong (right) place at the exact wrong (right) time and catches shang qinghua meeting with mobei jun

in order to keep luo binghe from tattling right away, shang qinghua dissembles in a panic and claims that his clandestine meetings with mobei jun are happening because they're lovers and definitely not because shang qinghua is betraying the sect and handing their secrets over to demons in order to save his own hide. when that almost doesn't work, he also tells luo binghe that he knows he's part demon, and that if luo binghe rats him out then shang qinghua will take him down with him. mutually assured destruction

it works, and even though luo binghe threatens him quite a bit (jeez kid calm down, you might be the almighty protagonist but also you're like sixteen) he agrees to keep shang qinghua's fraternizing a secret. but if ANYTHING BAD should happen to the sect or especially to luo binghe's shizun because of this, luo binghe will take shang qinghua down even if it does ruin his life too

shang qinghua, now sweating even more bullets about the impending immortal alliance conference: cool! cool cool cool sounds great cool yeah

so shang qinghua can add "being blackmailed by the punk ass brat I sort of created" to his list of stress-inducing woes. which gets even worse when luo binghe keeps somehow sensing if mobei jun is around for more than a couple hours and showing up, and picking fights with him?? kind of??

wtf has the protagonist been taking tips from liu qingge or something...?

shang qinghua feels like he's gonna have a heart attack when mobei jun just snorts and tosses luo binghe by the scruff like he's an annoying yappy dog

mobei jun actually knows what's up though. teenage half-demon who has never been around his own kind has become spoiled by the lack of competition on this front, and now his hackles are all up because he wants to claim the whole mountain range as his territory, and his instincts are screaming at him to challenge mobei jun about it so that they can decide who is actually top dog. since mobei jun could easily kill him, especially with his blood sealed, and has been clawing rocks and pissing on trees along the borders of an ding peak since before luo binghe was born, he's clearly got seniority here

and since qinghua doesn't want mobei jun to just kill the little shit (fair enough -- that sealed bloodline does look kind of interesting) that means it's up to mobei jun to teach him how to do things like interact with other demons without making a complete fool of himself. lesson one: what to do when you challenge someone out of your league and they win, assuming they don't just kill you

so luo binghe reluctantly gains another demon tutor

meng mo actually approves. he's been out of the loop on demon high society for a long time, and has lacked a body for long enough too that he's forgotten a lot of the particulars of socializing. it'll be good for luo binghe to pick up some manners that aren't just silly human tea ceremonies and things. maybe he'll start addressing meng mo more respectfully for a change!

(lol no)

luo binghe is partly like "I don't need to learn demon social skills since I'm spending the rest of my life as a disciple of qing jing peak" but partly like, well, if shizun knew about this and didn't freak out about it, he'd probably say that knowledge is power and learning how to handle politics and diplomacy of all kinds is important. and despite himself luo binghe is also interested, because this is a whole perspective on his own nature that he's never really gotten advice about

also, mobei jun is the lover of shang qinghua? mobei jun is a demon who successfully seduced a cang qiong peak lord? does he have any advice about that?

(he does -- all of it very bad)

anyway all of this sort of fucks up the immortal alliance conference developments really good, so the system kind of gives up and settles on some other big transformative achievements that luo binghe has to complete in order to be suitably heroic

but shen qingqiu has no idea and so the reprieve just seems to come out of nowhere until several years later, when he walks in on luo binghe with his claws out and huadian gleaming in the company the demon king of the northern desert, the two of them playing weiqi or something while they wait for shang qinghua to get back from some random logistics crisis he had to rush off to

shen qingqiu: ...?!?

luo binghe, panicking: wait shizun I can explain it's not what it looks like SHIZUN I SWEAR I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU PLEASE DON'T BE MAD--!

shen qingqiu: all this time I thought you were sneaking out to meet a girl, and this was what you were doing instead?!

luo binghe: WHAT?? shizun no I'd never do that I swear I don't even like girls!

shen qingqiu: that's not -- wait what do you mean you don't even like girls?!

mobei jun, unperturbed and still focused on the weiqi board: he's gay

[ghostbooba]

can you pls do headcanons of Victoria with controversially young girlfriend!Reader??? IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES. not that much of an age gap but maybe like have reader be 22 or 23? Or even slightly younger if you’re cool with that! Whatever you’re comfortable with!

controversially young gf!reader seems to be really popular amongst Victoria lovers... gee I wonder why...

For a good long while, you manage to remain both her plaything and her little secret: no one had to know, right? Her career would certainly take the fall of it all.

You met at a bar, a simple night out with friends to decompress, no expectations; and so even through all the flirting and not-so-subtle stares, you were quite starstruck when not only she gave you her number, but also brought you home.

She’s protective and wary, especially because you’re younger, and while mature, definitely inexperienced in regards to all sorts of things, interactions, and environments. You're barely twenty, for fuck's sake. She won’t shelter you, but also won’t let you barge headfirst into something. Lots of planning and reprimands, but lots of coddling as well.

She tries to understand and inform herself on whatever slang is popular at the moment, to be “hip with the kids”, trying to seem young and fuun to you. to you it doesn’t matter, you like her for being herself. Still, it’s a little funny, so you keep quiet.

Within the privacy of the four walls of her home (because oh no she’s absolutely not letting you stay in that shabby rented apartment downtown) she can be quite sweet if not uptight, scolding you as if you were a child for the silliest mistakes only to kiss you senseless at the mere sight of a pout, crawling between your legs on special days as a soundless apology. Well, not so soundless on your part.

She pulled some strings to get you hired at the Bureau early in the relationship, both because urgently in need of a new secretary and more than eager to have you frolicking around as eye candy in her office.

She tries not to make it obvious at work, but rumors spread quickly, and after a paparazzi shot of you two making out after a speech went viral, there was nothing more to do.

Victoria’s P.R: team was furious, working overtime to cover the whole thing up, but when life gives you lemons…

So she starts parading you around, her pretty little jewel not to touch but to look at; visibly ruining you with hickeys and scratches to then have you wear low cut dresses, because they look sooo good on you, Especially when everyone can see you’re hers.

It’s news for a week or two, but tabloids go quiet when new, exciting news appear: like bees to pollen. And sure, rumors still go around, calling you both all sorts of names (cougar and sugar baby seem to be some of the favorites) but life moves on.

It’d devolve into full on PDA and blatant favoritism pretty quickly, gaining you a promotion (or two, if you actually work hard enough and don’t spend half the time under her desk), annoying more than one of your coworkers. The smarter ones avoid the murmurs and whispers, making friendly conversation as they oh so reasonably don’t want to get fired for something as silly as “age gap” and “power imbalance”.

NSFW

She’s downright cruel: having you whine between her legs, until you show her “what a good puppy you are” keeping you in place while sucking and licking her clit until she cums, without letting you touch yourself, of course: “that’s mommy’s job”

She loves office sex, period sex, risky sex really: anyone in their right mind would call her an adrenaline junkie, but the fact that you’re curious and willing to try anything out has put her in dicey scenarios more than once.

Manipulating your blood while she’s eating you out, or vice versa: chin streaming with cum and blood as you whimper because at this point she’s made your clit so sensitive you might cry.

She tends to dom, not necessarily top, but it helps her scatch that itch that for once, she’s the one in control as you writhe and writhe and beg her as she latches on your nipples. She commands you around, no matter who’s wearing the strap... if there’s even one in the equation.

Not opposed to the use of toys, especially after a stressful workday; on that same note, some days are dedicated to gentle sex, worshiping her weary body until she passes out.

She love to buy you frilly lingerie, and can be pretty disappointed to find you jn walmart cartoon kids boxers while getting you naked. Youa rgue that they're funny and really cool.

Aftercare might be both of your favorite: the loving intimacy of taking care of ssomeone; although Victoria always feels the need to be the one to do all the work, again because you’re young. And you oppose her with her own argument “young and capable” yet it always ends in small chuckles and smiles.