#I can only fixate on so many things at once okay??!

[ceedak]

can we get a ceedak timeline 🤔 i feel like there’s a lot idk abt them fr 😭😭

yes u absolutely can i could talk about them forever and ever 🥳🥳

disclaimer: i do wanna say this is just from what i’ve gathered because i didn’t become super fixated on nfl rpf until last year </3 one day i’ll do a legit deep dive like an insane person and update with all my findings…

second disclaimer: im delusional yes and a part of me straight up thinks that they’ve had to have hooked up at least once bc i love to psychoanalyze people i'll never meet but i’ll make sure to say when i’m being fully delusional KSDJFHSKDS

putting it under a read more because i’m sure it’ll be much longer than necessary

also i will reblog this and add links to some videos!!

SO before i get into like when ceedee was drafted and such i wanna talk about how invisible string coded they are because i love shit like this sm

both were born in louisiana only about an hour and a half apart from each other until ceedee moved to texas as a child after hurricane katrina hit (he’s said he’s moved around a couple of times as kid in interviews before)

dak went to mississippi st. in college and ceedee’s dream school was LSU (rival colleges… 🚬) but he had committed to oklahoma (also they wouldn’t have met or anything in college anyway because dak was drafted in 2016 and ceedee started playing in college in 2017 but i digress it makes my brain light up anyway lol)

when dak was drafted he was projected to go like late second round/early third round of the draft but 🗿 he got into some trouble beforehand (driving under the influence) and ended up falling to the 4th round (after the front office kept trying to trade up to get a different backup QB)

dak also had to compete for his spot as a backup and was named starter after romo was injured in 2016. this was dak’s rookie year and he led them to the playoffs - almost to the nfc championship game. after this he basically took the job from romo

okay so FAST FORWARD to the 2020 draft. ceedee was projected to go top 10 and he fell all the way to SEVENTEEN so the cowboys were able to grab him then (drafted bpa instead of for need)

idk all of this is just very <333 to me that so many things managed to fall into place just right and they managed to find each other on the same team out of THIRTY TWO teams it makes me weeeep 🤧 also just something else that i think is very cute because i truly am a little insane: ceedee was born april 8th and dak’s jersey number is 4 and ceedee’s is 88 so 4/8 ALL THE DOTS CONNECT SOMEHOW…

so we’ll go through a teensy bit about dak i suppose and then ceedee this won’t be too long

dak: baby of his family and has two brothers. his parents divorced when he was little and he was very close with his mom before she passed away in 2013 (he’s started a foundation since then for cancer research and suicide prevention/mental health). went to mississippi st, cowboys starter his rookie year, etc etc. he also lost his brother to suicide in 2020 and he’s said before he feels a responsibility to live on and carry his and his mom’s legacy throughout his life. he’s like suuuuuper underrated in the league i feel and a lot of cowboys fans are complete assholes to him all the time it makes me so mad cos they could literally never ever make me hate him - he makes me so weepy 😭😭😭 umm but yeah he’s donated a ton to children cancer funds too and donated during BLM protests and things like that - he won the walter payton man of the year award. he just had a baby and got engaged in october (remember for the yaoi LOL) ok im gonna stop here cause i don’t wanna rant too much lol

btw i know what you are dak prescott:

ceedee: MY BELOVED… my favorite my absolute favorite. he has two brothers and two little sisters. idk if he’s the eldest or not tbh i see different things all the time that he’s the second eldest whatever not that important i guess. so blah blah college blah blah - he wears 88 on the team because that’s considered really special to the cowboys franchise and is reserved for elite receivers. idk he’s the most beautiful man ever and he does a lot of donating too - i know he participates in a lot of football youth camps a lot to help kids out and he likes to provide meals to families around thanksgiving and christmas time. a loooot of cowboys fans have criticized him for not being that much of a leader and pouting a lot on the sidelines (which he does sometimes… my mimir) but i think this last season he’s reaaaaallyyy taken a step into more of a leader type position especially with dak being out and he’s proven himself more than enough. he LOOOVES spending money on clothes it’s so cute… gonna be a sad day when the class war happens and i’m faced with cedarian lamb. ummm i also legit think he’s gay and closet is made of glass but whatever

see this is the problem i never stfu but okay CEEDAK what you actually asked about ksjdksjdks

PRE-2020 SEASON: this was before ceedee was drafted (some stuff i found last night) and this is what i mean when i say i haven’t done like a deep dive into these things bc i’m sure there’s soo much more but this kinda gives the general vibes

“I was like a little kid at the playground,” CeeDee tells us. (on the first time Dak texted him to invite him over to his house, says it was surreal.) august 21, 2020

and i actually hunted the exact clip down where he says this: (will reblog with link - skip to 4:25 he talks for like a minute or so - sorry the audio’s funky it’s because of covid so all the reporters weren’t in the room i’m pretty sure) DELUSIONS: you can’t tell me ceedee wasn’t nursing a crush here idgaf

2020 SEASON:

ceedee’s rookie year

personal stuff happened with dak before the season started - this is when he lost his brother to suicide and he’s been really outspoken about mental health since then. on top of that he broke his ankle during week 5 of the season (and tried to snap it back into place by himself on the field). dak was performing on like a sort of insane level before the injury happened so </3 what could’ve been and all that… the what-ifs of it all… so that year they weren’t able to play together as much

Oct 11, 2020: “CeeDee Lamb said he texted Dak as soon as he got out of the shower. Thanked him for everything he’s done for him and they were gonna hold it down for him until they see him on the field again.” (after the game dak got hurt in)

POST 2020 SEASON:

"He came back from his second surgery about two months ago so he’s walking around, rehabbing, doing everything right," Lamb said Wednesday. "It’s great to see, especially when you seen him go down. You saw the look in his eyes and you saw how sad he was and how much this game meant to him. Just to see him smiling again, happy again, being with his guys is a great deal."

"First day he kind of caught me by surprise with his arm strength," Lamb said. "He knows the little nuances of the game to be better. He makes it easy to follow him, if you will."

2021 SEASON

ceedee’s second year, he was in a WR room with amari cooper (currently on the bills) and michael gallup (now retired) blah blah season happened whateverrrr but AFTER this season the front office (i’ll always be mad about this lol) traded amari to the browns for a 5th round pick 💀 hence THIS!!! which i consider the #Real beginning of ceedak:

“Dak Prescott asked for CeeDee Lamb’s locker to be moved next to his: ‘My two other locker mates left, so I was a little lonely. With him being young, hopefully he’s my WR until I’m done playing. Just bring him closer, more conversations, he’s right there to talk and communicate.’”

said he had no doubt ceedee could become his "main guy"

here’s some fun stuff i found from 2021 too

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3hCmIZN-YI&ab_channel=DallasCowboys (7 min mark this was after a game winning td in overtime against new england)

“CeeDee Lamb on game-winning 35-yard TD: ‘It was the best feeling ever, honestly.’”

2022 SEASON:

https://youtu.be/T73xGDsFiVo?si=Qn_dwK1yfnHPiMya talks about dak here at 7:50 “all i need is him” 🤧

he’s actually said this a couple times lol he says shit like “we’re all we got” about each other - he’s said it this most recent season too so <3

dak injured his thumb this season though so he was out for like 7 weeks i think i can’t remember off the top of my head lol but again another season where they didn’t get to play much together

fun 2022 stuff:

“Last year, Cowboys caked Dak in the face on the field for his 28th birthday. On his 29th today, CeeDee told us they planned to do the same in the locker room. Hoped Dak would think he was safe after no cake on the field, and then locker room ambush.”

“Scene here: Dak was talking to us at his locker. CeeDee walks past wearing metallic red lens sunglasses indoors and eating chicken. Says the key to following up ass-kicking is ‘keep kicking ass.’”

“Dak on CeeDee’s vibe: Yeah, cool as hell - says ‘keep kicking ass’ while he’s eating.”

“Dak Prescott walked by during our interview with CeeDee Lamb - QB1: CeeDee’s that dude! / WR1: Happy birthday, Dak!”

link posted in reblog: skip to 2:30 he almost says he loves dak lol also very

2023: THE SEASON OF CEEDAK!!!

https://youtu.be/7_WRIzb5fPA?si=R0TETc2qtW0IOP5P the infamous "was gonna take him out for dinner tonight" clip is from this aka what got me hooked on ceedak lol (this interview is just so good in general i love ceedee sm - def recommend watching! such a nice look at his personality)

this is where my delusions take over i deadass think they hooked up at LEAST once around this time lol maybe end of 2022 season maybe early 2023 season IDK but anyway during this year the offense was soo wack for a couple of weeks until the bye week and then ceedee made some noise about it bc he felt like he wasn't being as utilized (which is true i'm so serious mccarthy was SUCH an annoying coach lol) but quotes:

“Cowboys WR CeeDee Lamb said Dak Prescott approached him and said: ‘If you have a problem with anything, just come up to me and we’ll talk about it.’ Lamb said he and Dak worked on getting on the same page their first day back in the building after the 49ers loss.”

Dak: ‘I mean, a frustrated player that feels like we all could’ve done better and feels like he can change the game, I understand it. I really do. So it’s in the sense of just communicating with him… CeeDee is a guy that I’ll never lose confidence in and trust who he is and understand why he’s frustrated. But at the end of the day, he’s a leader. It’s about him leading other guys and picking other guys up and him just trying to make sure we’re all pushing our best. That’s where the frustration is, we have to remove that. And he will. He’s a young player that’s growing by the day and he’ll only get better. He’ll be better because of that.’

but after they switched the offense around dak and ceedee went craaaazyyy - ceedee was named all pro, dak was in mvp talks (should have won it to be honest i'm sorry lamar i still love you <3) but 2023 cowboys will seriously haunt me forever lol

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sudQu72KDXs&ab_channel=NFLonFOX

DELUSIONS: dak announced he was having a baby like two weeks after this game SO let’s just say…. maybe…. perhaps… they were hooking up… ceedee probably knew before the public did - not saying that’s why he seems a little upset at the beginning of this clip cause who knows 🤷‍♀️ like i said DELUSIONS but… i can’t help it when the timeline timelines don’t shoot the messenger

also i do wanna mention that dak’s fiance follows a loooot of cowboys players on ig but she does not follow ceedee and he doesn’t follow her AGAIN just delusions…. but… iykyk 👀

sooo they were poppin off in 2023, ceedee was breaking records and shit, won nfc east, went to the playoffs and then i DON'T wanna talk about it i have my theories about wtf happened during that playoffs packers game but 💀💀 anyway the offseason before the 2024 season was genuinely the worst of my life because BOTH ceedee and dak had to get extended and jerry jones (who is the worst) waited until after training camp to get them both signed lol so ceedee wasn't participating in training camp at all which affected them in the beginning of the 2024 season which was a complete mess A MESS but here's some fun stuff after ceedee signed his extension/during that offseason

“Remarkable. That’s who CeeDee Lamb is. … He’s special. He’s just getting going and as long as I’m here, he’s gonna keep stacking these records year after year.”

“CeeDee Lamb strongly defended Dak: No one deserves the criticism that he gets. The way he gets talked about is crazy.”

2023-2024 OFFSEASON:

worst months of my life lol ceedee was holding out for his new contract and didn’t get it signed until like… august i think? anddd dak was signed fucking three hours before kickoff the first week of the season lol i HATE this front office

but here’s some fun quotes after ceedee was signed:

CeeDee Lamb: “We were texting quite a bit. Obviously I missed being out there, competing with him… for is being so in tune together and all it takes is one text message or one conversation, one phone call… for us both… having the same passion for the game, same love for the game. I want what’s best for Dak and vice versa. Shout out to him too for getting that bag, too. We’ll be together for the next five years.”

Dak Prescott on CeeDee Lamb’s added muscle weight: “He’s wearing a lot more sleeveless shirts. As long as the speed is there, and it looks like it is (in practice), I’m fine with however big he is.” LMAO??

Dak Prescott: “I peeped the biceps. He’s wearing more sleeveless shirts now.”

Dak Prescott recently on CeeDee Lamb: “He’s talented. He works hard. He’s special. He’s the best receiver in the league for a reason. And I’ve seen Instagram videos. I know you’ve seen him. He’s working. And he works hard. So I have no angst, no worries about when he gets here that we’re not going to pick up where we left off. And when you're a stud like that and you’re smart like he is and you’re good at communicating, that makes that process that much easier. So it’s not like we’ve got to build something. We’ve got that. We just got to reignite it when he gets here.”

on how much ceedee worked with dak at the field at dak’s house even though he was staying away from the team: “Often. I would say quite often. Anytime that I’m back in town, and he’s obviously back here, I hit him and then… it’s very… good having a rich quarterback.”

Dak Prescott’s thoughts on the tandem of him and CeeDee Lamb being compared to legendary duos like Joe Montana and Jerry Rice: “I think that says a lot just cause we’ve only done it for four years and you just named some of those duos that did it for their whole careers. But then again, I feel like we can be better than all of them… so love the comparisons, they sound good and all, but hopefully one day people are saying these next duos and next tandems can be like me and CeeDee.” (i will kms over this quote one day)

i’m sure there’s things i’m missing but this is already sooooo long lol so

2024 SEASON:

WORST SEASON OF MY LIFEEEEEE / ceedak angst era

the front office set this team up to fail and let like a ton of players walk in the offseason, didn’t use free agency, injury riddled team, had a bunch of rookies starting but anyway just gonna go game by game really quick because this is when i was locked tf in and it’s more recent so ?? more detail seems alright when it's necessary also i wrote so many half-finished post-game fics this season to cope with how terrible it was i’m cryingggg it was insane

cowboys vs browns: i was at this game :) good game they won

cowboys vs saints: blocked this game out actually!!!

cowboys vs ravens: fake ass comeback also the game ceedee CRASHED OUT on the field lskdjslkdjsskjdsk which is so funny bc i literally love lamar sm and was so excited to watch but… my players wanted to make me MISERABLE

this was said a day or two after the game by ceedee (bc he fumbled during it and then wasn't there for post game media people andddd was yelling at dak on the sideline 🗿)

“Our relationship has, if anything, gotten stronger. Don’t let what, what’s out there fool you. We’re brothers to the end. We know that we all we got, and I tip my hat off to him. I got the utmost respect for him.”

“So with that being said, everything is gonna come out - the energy, the passion, the love, the fight - and then we’ll make up in the end. So no, no craziness now. Don’t.”

dak also said something about his rhythm with ceedee being a “rare feeling” which… okay internalized homophobia but i CANNOT for the life of me find the actual quote i’ve searched through my gallery but it’s not there </3 if i find i’ll add later (i’m pretty sure it was after the baltimore game but i can’t remember)

cowboys vs giants: this is a tremicah game no need to mention ceedak idt - nasty ugly win but whatever

cowboys vs steelers: dak prescott giving me a heart attack 12 fucking times during this game

cowboys vs lions: don’t wanna talk about it! i’m a hater! always will be sorry!!! ben johnson statpadding on my sorry ass terrible team i was SICKKKKK

BYE WEEK: my trials and tribulations…. my nfl rpf…

CeeDee Lamb on getting in some extra work with Dak Prescott during their bye week: “We love our bye weeks. We took advantage of it. We got right. We used every opportunity to get better and I feel like it’s going to show. We got on some routes, and obviously the timing is everything. We needed that.”

now ummm this is the week dak got engaged so. which is really funny because after the announcement post on ig ceedee went GHOST on instagramksjdjks like i went back to check because i’m crazy (these are delusions btw) and he had been posting like once a week… maybe once every two weeks PRETTY consistently like for at least a couple of months but after the engagement happened there was pretty much nothing for like… almost two months?? ummm which AGAIN i’m not saying anything i’m not insinuating anything buuuuut…… buuuuut….. also it’s really fucking funny because in this same interview ceedee dropped that he left the country during the bye week but didn’t post it on socials at all so i’m like ohhhh… you’re coping w the engagement… i see LMAO anyway

cowboys vs 49ers: sigghhhh….. lets get into it

SO this was a loss but two ceedee touchdowns.. i’m leaving with something!!!

“Yeah, I found CeeDee,” Prescott said when reflecting back on Lamb’s breakout in the Bay Area. “He did a good job of getting open, running all of his routes hard no matter where he was, if he was the one or if he was backside on a concept. Loved his intentionality in the game. He kind of said something like that to me during the game, midway through the game, like ‘Yeah, we’re back.’ And that was before, I think, his two touchdown drives. So just him even playing with that confidence, communicating that, it gives me a lot of confidence.”

super hopeful right maybe they'll really connect again and things'll be fine LOL

cowboys vs falcons: worst game ever dak tore his hamstring off the bone like a fucking idiot and ceedee sprained his AC joint and would not stop going back out into the game i was ready to kms

cowboys vs eagles: not talking about it idc

cowboys vs texans: loss because ofc but whatever ceedak hugged before the game tho so i didn’t gaf about the loss - i can’t find the clip rn but if i do i’ll post it

cowboys vs commanders: this is when i accepted they were tanking and then they decided to just be elite for whatever reason lol made me so happy though ceedee was so happy <33

cowboys vs giants: whatever

cowboys vs bengals: worst fucking game of my life nothing to do with ceedak but one of my other fave player’s (i also ship him w ceedee idgaf) knee EXPLODED so that was so much fun to deal with

cowboys vs panthers: i still can’t believe bryce young decided to forget how to play football in this game im crying

cowboys vs tampa: again they just wanted to be elite for whatever reason

cowboys vs: eagles: don’t wanna talk about it idc

cowboys vs commanders: WHATEVER thanks for the 12th draft pick ashton jeanty you will be a cowboy

SO. that’s basically where everything's at lmfao worst season EVERRRRR with ceedak ANGST um but yeah hopefully 2025 will be better... i’m cautiously optimistic because their old coach is finally FINALLY gone because he was really limiting them and their ability you know? 2023 season was amazing and then 2024 started and it was like… mccarthy just reverted back to his old scheme that wasn’t working. it was really annoyingksdkskds. but the new coach (despite it seeming like a silly hire) had a decent press conference (that ceedee didn’t attend bc he was playing around in paris LOL) andddd he seems to be setting up a nice staff around him so hopefully hopefully hopefully 2025 is a lot better and ceedak will save me again… can’t wait for training camp omg

anyway if u read all this i’m SO sorry i hope it’s… expansive enough?? i wanted to include kind of how it’s been through the years and i had a lot more to add for 2023/2024 because that’s when my adhd was just like Yea let’s hyperfixate on this so. been stuck here for awhile and i’ll probably be stuck here for years and years and years <3

[karlyboyyy]

Hey hi hello! It’s been months since Ive spent any real time on good ol’ Tumblr. So what the heck have I been up to instead??

I binge watched seasons 10-24 of Law & Order: SVU. Why? Couldn’t tell ya. Except that once you start, it’s hard to stop. But I’ve decided I need a break from mommy Olivia Benson before I go back and watch the older, poorly-aged episodes

I’ve started re-learning Japanese! I got a bit into it like over a year ago, but sorta lost motivation. But now I’m keeping up with my daily lessons, and I’d like to be able to take the JLPT N5 test at the end of the year!

I rearranged my room! I always spent way too much time in the same spot in bed - sleeping, watching tv, reading, whatever. And I was starting to have really bad back, shoulder, and hip pain. So, I’ve moved my bedroom furniture around so that I’m forced to sit on my bed from the side, more like a couch. That way, I’m not slouching as much and I can actually get comfortable when I go to sleep. Plus, my room is more open now and not as cluttered. It makes me feel more at peace 😌

I started eating a bit healthier! Honestly I just got real tired of feeling like shit all the time. And the weight I was gaining was a bit much, mostly because my pants were always too tight and hurting my stomach. But now I really do feel better, I’ve lost 5lb, and I’m having less heartburn which is nice.

I’ve been reading a lot! All the gay fantasy romance I can find on Kindle Unlimited. And whooo boy I love it all

I’ve started working on my webtoon again! For some reason I gained like 5 new subscribers this month, after not updating the damn thing in MONTHS. And what do ya know, now I’m only like 6 away from actually earning money from it. Not that money is the motivation, but it would be neat. Plus I still think about my story constantly, so it’s about damn time I continue putting it out there.

I won Employee of the Year at work!

I started rewatching Haikyuu for the billionth time. And it is still as comforting and entertaining and heartwarming as ever

Aaaand that’s about it 😎

[seventh-district]

oh my god i can’t decide what to do with my time today

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 18: Aphrodisiac + Oral Fixation + Body Hair

Eddie Brock | Venom x Ex!Younger!F!Reader

Summary: Venom uses honey from your purse to whip up some tea for you and Eddie while helping you study. Little did he know, that honey has some…interesting side effects.

Warnings: dub con elements, exes to friends to lovers, accidental aphrodisiac, sub!eddie x horny!reader, consumption, teratophillia, not lore accurate, oral fixation (licking, biting), some scratching, oral through underwear, premature ejaculation, body hair kink, some hair pulling, threeway kiss, venom and reader are in cahoots, french kissing, some dry humping, age gap +18 reader, bimbo!reader, basically whole lot of tongue action

To this day, 7 months later, Venom still curses Eddie for letting you go. Blah, blah…she’s young and going to university…blah blah…new experiences. If long distance is really that hard, why is it that it only took Eddie 3 hours to drive to your dorm? If he was committed to your throupling, he’d make the commute everyday to see you.

But Ole Venom supposes he shouldn’t be too hard on Eddie. After all, he’s attentive enough to Venom where he notices his changes in mood. Especially when Venom’s in one of those depressive states where he desperately misses you; with the occasional breaking of items to cope with his pained feelings. Whenever he’d get this way, Eddie would take them up go a trip to you and you’d be the three musketeers.

This weekend being a three-day weekend excited Venom for things he had in store. He’s determined to win you back even in spite of what Eddie says because sometimes he just needs a push in the right direction.

Venom likes to think he’s become that of an expert at romance, having read enough gossip magazines and advice columns to say as such. He knows the love languages and he’ll be sure to use his tongue precisely for speaking them to you.

Yeah, he knows Eddie’s been suspicious of his saint behavior since their arrival—the rules were clear not to make any plans of winning you back—but Venom’s entitled to a little bit of rule-breaking. He hovers around, content as he watches Eddie and you laughing during your study session. If he sets the mood just right, things would get more intimate.

He then recalls a fact he’d gotten from an issue of Chic Heat Magazine that explains how tea can make people more susceptible to suggestion because it calms you. If you’re relaxed enough, you might take them back.

So he excuses himself to the kitchen, preparing some rose tea for you all to enjoy. You’d just run out of honey but you had some packets he’d noticed in your bag earlier, hopefully you don’t mind.

Once he returns to the circle, you beam at his gesture. “V…you are such a cutie. Thank you so much.”

“I wouldn’t say that too soon,” Eddie says in a tone that is both jest and serious. “We’ll check the state of the kitchen in a minute.”

You shrug. “No worse than the state I left it in.”

“You’ve gotta be more responsible, babygirl.” He frustratedly sighs.

“I’m studying. That’s pretty big for me,” You defend. “Usually I’d just flirt with the T.A. for the test answers or cram the day of. But I’ve been trying because you said I could do it.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Really proud of you, buddy.” He says, patting your knee and earning a smile from you.

Then, you’re taking a sip of your tea wanting to give Venom the praise he deserves. Your eyes brighten soon as the first sip stains your tongue and goes down your throat . “This is really good, V. Seriously. I couldn’t have done this better myself. What’d you put in it?”

“Honey…” He begins.

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I ran out—”

“…the ones in your purse.” He finishes.

Your eyes nearly leave your skull. “H-how many?”

“5,” He answers proudly. “Wanted to make it extra special for you.”

“Oh, it’s extra special alright.” You say with a nervous laugh.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks in concern.

“Mhm,” You hum between a strained toothless smile. “L-let’s go back to studying, yeah?”

“What’s in those things?” Eddie questions, his investigative nature getting the better of him.

“Nothing to be concerned about…” Your words escape you when you see that Venom has already retrieved the emptied packet for Eddie to review.

“Sweet Honey Rush? You said you wouldn’t intern with these guys,” Eddie says. “Didn’t you read my story on them secretly being behind these campaigns for increasing the national birth rate. I sent you a link on Facebook. We’re like breeding stock to them.”

“No person younger than 35 uses facebook anymore, Eddie,” You argue. “And besides they were offering some really good benefits if I interned with them.”

“Like getting free honey packets?”

“They aren’t for me…they’re for me to give out to some college students. It’s the new craze. Everyone’s talking about. There’s even a challenge of it on TikTok. You wanna see?” You’re about to pull out your phone but he stops you.

“Don’t you see that they’re purposely targeting the younger population?” Eddie scoffs.

“No, I think I gave one to my pervy old maintenance man,” You justify but Eddie shakes his head in disbelief at you. “Oh come on. It’s not like they’re as good as you think them to be. Venom said he’s added five and you don’t see me on all fours with my tongue out, do you?”

“I guess you’re right.” He says.

“Good. Now pretty please read me the next chapter.”

He smiles. “Of course.”

Venom is stumped. This is not at all going the way he’d planned. Instead of relaxing, it’s only made things more tense between the two of you. He was going to need to intervene internally.

“It’s taking effect.” Venom says from within.

“How are you so sure?” Eddie answers back into the mindscape.

“Come on, Eddie, I know it’s been months. But tell me you haven’t forgotten the way she looks when she really, really wants you,” Venom purrs. “Look at those eyes glossing over, darkening when she rakes them over you. She’s biting her lip—ha! She isn’t paying attention to your words.”

“You’re wrong. It’s nothing like that.” Eddie says trying to maintain focus by reading to you.

“I’ve been inside her once,” Venom continues. “I can sense the changes in her body even long after we’ve separated.”

“She’s just fine.” Eddie says in clear denial.

“Then ask her if she heard what you just said. Better yet ask her anything, she’ll probably say ‘yes’ to it all if it meant having our cock inside her.” Venom chuckles wickedly.

He’s reluctant, not wanting to embarrass you, but Eddie tests Venom’s theory anyway in hopes to quell his curiosity. Why on Earth would you want them back when you had so many different options at college? The sooner Eddie could disprove his claims, the sooner they can put aside that hopeful part of them that thinks the relationship could work.

“Hey, um, by any chance do you wanna share a jar of olives together?” He asks.

“Yes.” You sigh dreamily.

He perplexedly blinks at your reply to his absurd question. You hated olives.

“Babygirl, are you paying attention?” He asks.

“Mhm.” You nod still looking at him as if he hung up the stars. And now that Venom pointed it out, Eddie, too, could see your telltale sign in just the way you clenched your thighs together alone.

“Oh, really,” He asks, cupping a hand under your chin; his fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “What did I just read to you?”

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

“We’re studying American History, angel.” He smirks.

“Sorry, daddy,” You say, taking them completely off guard. Eddie hates how he instantly hardens at thought as if he’d taken the aphrodisiac, too. “Can I make it up to you? Taste you.”

“Yes!” Venom says.

“No,” Eddie protests. “You’re not in the right state of mind, missy. You’re going to bed, if you decide to take care of yourself on your own that’s your choice. In the morning if you still feel like you want to, then we can—”

“It’s only an aphrodisiac, dude. Not a drug. I’m not out of my mind for wanting you inside me. Both of you.”

“We’re in!” Venom says ready to reach out for you but Eddie smacks his dark tendril from your reach.

“No, we’re—” Eddie’s cut off by your lips on his. Somehow, Venom was able to sneak his mischievous tentacles around and bring your heads together.

You immediately get to work french kissing him passionately and tugging the hair on the back of his neck. His beard burns your face from the rough friction of the make-out session but it doesn’t deter you from being more forceful.

Venom’s tongue joins into the entanglement flicking and gliding between you and Eddie’s tongues, gathering a mixture of your salivas.

When Eddie breaks the kiss, you’re at his thick neck licking and biting away while Venom’s eager tongue, slithered and constricted around your body like vines.

“Stop. You don’t…” Eddie’s interrupted by yet another one of your lingering wanton kisses, finishing his sentence once you break apart. “…want this.”

“I’ve never stopped wanting you,” You suck on the space connect jaw and his neck before dragging your teeth along the vein. “Please fuck me.”

Eddie’s still too afraid to answer, cradling the back of your head while your lips and tongue continue their assault on his body.

“Fuck, babygirl,” He groans, missing this feeling of you devouring him as if he were a buffet. You and Venom were always big tongue enthusiasts wanting to put your mouths around anything that attracted you including Eddie.

His eyes flutter shut and you crawl into his lap, grinding your hips down while you tasted what you could. You pay special attention to his plump lips, licking and biting them.

“Can I go further?” You ask him.

“You heard Venom—”

“What do you want?”

“I want you.”

At his admission you moan, not being able to take it anymore. You and Venom work in sync. He begins to remove Eddie’s clothes while each sink that’s exposed you go over it with your tongue.

Eddie’s really hairy so occasionally your tongue would run over a patch of hair and you’d give it special attention.

“Fuck, I think I might actually cum from this alone,” He laughs bashfully, surprising himself. “I’m so sensitive for some reason.”

You dip your tongue into his belly-button, swirling it around before your tongue finally trails down to his throbbing bulge. It jumps in his khaki shorts the moment you place your tongue���s pressure directly on it. He shudders, his fingers through your hair.

The feverish heat of the effects take over you just as you pass the first barrier, bringing his pants down around his ankles. Venom lifts you by the waist for a moment, adding a pillow underneath for your knees. You run your fingers along the underside of his tentacles—where it’s most sensitive for him—as a thank you.

You’re not gentle at all once you spot the wet spot on Eddie’s underwear. He’d cum already and had been too ashamed to speak up. He could already see you making an old man joke about him needing the honey packet more than you but instead you went for his soul.

Immediately, you clamp your mouth around the clothed tip to suck at the sticky essence. It’s so sensitive he could cry, it’s as if the aphrodisiac is giving him a contact high.

He tries to pull your hungry mouth from him but is thwarted when Venom wraps a snaky limb around his wrists, pinning him down.

“Oh god, fuck. Baby…please.” Eddie whimpers.

You drag your nails along his little belly, gripping and pulling the tiny hairs of his happy trail while you sucked him off. Another one of Venom’s tendrils finds their way between your legs, teasing your little nub. You let out a shuddery gasp, your warm breath skirting over his now exposed veiny length.

You trace your tongue on the lightning-patterned cock, tasting the addictive earthiness of him. You’re gushing wet and ready to take their cock and Venom could very well slip a wriggling tendril inside of you this instant…

…but he’d rather Eddie get first dibs.

[sunderwight]

With moshang I think I'm equally fond of the possibilities/concepts where either Shang Qinghua is ludicrously attractive to demons in a broad sense (but doesn't realize it), or, where Shang Qinghua is just some weird little gremlin and everyone else cannot wrap their head around why THE Mobei Jun is so smug about seducing this man.

Or a combination, where no demon in their right mind would ordinarily look at Shang Qinghua and perceive a sex icon, but because such a high-ranking demon has clearly done so, they go "well there must be SOMETHING going on there" and then look closer and before they know it they're on the slippery slope to being horny about a guy who could help file their taxes or arrange to have their clan base's faulty plumbing fixed.

Basically it's all good. Demons en mass going "yeah yeah big scary dudes who punch good are a dime a fucking dozen around here, but do you know how hot someone who can skillfully use an abacus is?" vs demons going "the ice king is a respectable ruler but he has garbage taste in men, we all just smile and politely nod while he insists the weird rat guy he fixated on as a teenager is a catch" vs demons going "I really don't see the appeal -- wait he did what? he killed how many guys at once with 1 trick? he betrayed WHOMST? and lived?! and he knows how to get my door to stop making horrible squeaky noises?! okay yeah figures the king would marry him" but every option is a winner.

I'm also a big fan of both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua being not very attractive to demons in general, but it also being really common for demons to get super weird about first crushes and fixate hard on them, so in that sense they are completely normal choices for a couple of high-level demons to marry. Like the demon populace can appreciate the emperor actually landing his hot teacher and the king successfully marrying his teenage sweetheart. It's an idealized fantasy in terms of the scenarios, even if the actual guys are just weird humans. Nearly every average demon has lifelong daydreams about successfully seducing their first crush, so regardless of who those crushes turned out to be it's still a power move for LBH and MBJ to actually succeed.

Bonus if the fact that both SQQ and SQH are peak lords from the same sect leads to a bunch of demon kids developing crushes on the other remaining, unattached peak lords, and chaos ensuing. Especially for Liu Qingge. I think it would be funny for him to gain a flock of teenage demons with crushes, whom he keeps trying to fight off, only to discover that beating them up does NOT discourage them at all (actually makes the crushes worse). Or Yue Qingyuan getting mobbed like he's a pop star any time he makes a diplomatic visit to the demon realms. Sha Hualing deciding that she's just waiting for Liu Mingyan to become a peak lord before they make things official, since That's Obviously How It's Done, or Qi Qingqi doing a head count one day and realizing she suddenly has a bunch of unfamiliar "guest" disciples who sigh at her a lot and have funny-colored eyes...

[imaginespazzi]

Part 11: Free Fall

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)

(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!

May 2025 

It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 

It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 

Except, the moment is here now. 

And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 

The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 

“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”

Another broken promise. 

The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 

The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 

Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 

Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 

“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”

Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”

“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.

All that matters is the game. 

Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 

***

Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 

Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 

She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 

A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 

The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 

No. 

She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 

Louder. 

Stronger. 

No.

Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.

 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 

Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 

“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 

Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”

Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 

Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 

“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”

Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 

“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 

Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”

Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”

It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 

“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 

“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 

This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; knows that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same girl hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 

Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”

“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”

“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”

She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 

“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 

“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 

The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”

He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”

“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”

“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”

And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 

“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”

And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 

She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 

***

May 2033 

It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 

It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 

Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 

And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 

That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.

But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 

Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 

All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 

But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 

Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”

The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 

“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 

Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”

Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”

“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 

“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”

“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 

Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 

“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”

“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 

It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”

“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”

“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”

“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 

“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”

Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 

 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 

“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”

Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 

She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 

“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 

“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 

“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”

“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 

“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 

“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 

“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”

“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 

Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”

“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”

There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 

“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”

She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 

“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”

“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest

“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 

“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”

Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 

“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”

Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  

There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 

“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”

“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 

“Az-”

“He hates me-”

“He doesn’t-”

“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”

“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 

“Have you forgiven me?” 

The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 

“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 

Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”

The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 

“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”

Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 

And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 

***

Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.

Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 

“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 

“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 

Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”

Stephie pouts, “why not?”

“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 

“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”

“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 

“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”

“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 

“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 

“Ste-”

“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”

“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 

“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 

She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”

“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 

“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”

“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”

“Paige-”

“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”

She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 

“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 

“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 

“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”

My daughter. 

The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 

“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”

“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 

“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 

The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 

It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 

“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 

Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 

Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 

“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 

A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”

“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”

“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 

“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 

“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”

Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 

“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 

Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 

“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers. 

“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”

Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”

Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”

“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”

Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 

“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”

“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”

“Paige-”

“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 

“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 

“Drew-”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”

Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 

“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”

[daydaydayrk420]

Oral fixation

Bucky Barnes X male reader

⚠️ cock warming with a mouth, stressed Bucky, bottom Bucky, piss kink⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

______________________________________________________________

Bucky has a strong oral fixation. He hates it. Not a single minute of the day he has nothing in his mouth. Whether it's bubble gum, mints, pencils, or whatever else. Always needs his mouth distracted.

That's where Y/n comes in. Y/N and Bucky have been together long enough that Bucky trusts him with many things. Kinks included.

Y/n lets Bucky use his dick as a stress reliever when his oral fixation is too much for him.

Which is what's happening now. Y/n is sitting in his office unaware of how rushed his boyfriend is to get home. He hears the front door shut and then hurried steps towards his office. He can tell what's Bucky after simply because he's not trying to walk like a ghost as he usually does. So Y/N fixes the pillows and blankets that are always under his desk so they're ready. Then he undoes his pants. Just in time as Bucky walks in.

Bucky is happy when he sees his boyfriend already getting ready. Neither of them speaks as Bucky gets comfortable under the desk in the little nest of pillows and blankets. Y/n already pulled his cock out and goes back to work. Bucky takes his time. He wants to be comfortable he doesn't know how long he'll be here.

Y/n plays some 40s music so they don't sit in an awkward silence that'll only be filled by keyboard keys and mouse clicks. Bucky smiles at the simple gesture.

Finally, Bucky got comfortable and reached for his boyfriend's dick. He licks his lips and slowly takes his soft cock into his mouth. The weight is more than welcome on his tongue as he takes it as far as he can without choking. Y/n runs one hand through Bucky's hair once his head settles on his lap.

They sit like that for a long time. About two hours if anyone kept count. There is a problem though. Y/n needs to pee.

"Buck?" He called out and looked at the peaceful expression his boyfriend had. "Hm?" Bucky only hums not wanting to pull off. "I need you to pull off i gotta go to the bathroom." That only gets Bucky to shake his head and take him deeper. "Bucky I seriously need to pee." At that, Bucky forced his throat to relax and looked at y/n through his lashes. He pulls off far enough so he's sucking mostly the tip and licking the slit. "You want me to pee?" Y/n looks surprised. Bucky nods and takes more of his dick I'm his mouth again. Y/n groans and debates his boyfriend's request.

He needs to go bad. "Alright... Just... Pull off if it's... bad okay?" Y/n said with a shaky voice. Bucky nods and gets ready for his drink.

Y/n groans and lets go. The hot gold liquid pours into Bucky's mouth who swallows it eagerly. Y/n caresses the soldiers hair as he releases himself. Bucky swallows big gulps making sure nothing is spilled. His eyes are closed and his lips are pink and plum. Y/n on the other hand keeps his eyes open and watches how his boyfriend's throat moves every time he swallows.

Bucky swallows the last few drops and pulls off to take deep breaths. "You did so good." Yn praised and caressed his hair. Bucky smiles and leans into the touch. Once he's calmed down he takes Y/N's dick back into his mouth. He rests his head on his thigh and closes his eyes.

Y/N goes back to work and occasionally runs his hand through Bucky's hair. They sit like that until Bucky falls asleep and y/n somehow has to find a way to drag his dead weight to bed.

[zshiftsrealities]

LETTING GO

i've talked about this a little bit in one of my other posts, but I realized this was a very important topic — especially for people like me out here, who might've had a hard time with this concept, and so I wanted to expand on it and give my own two cents.

the concept of "letting go" has been taught to most — if not all — of us by life long ago before any of us even found shifting. if you don't like a situation, "let it go". do your best, and "leave the rest and don't fixate on it". if someone you love doesn't respect you, "let them go". anything that doesn't serve you, "let it go". this is the one advice that got many of us through different situations. but everytime I ever came across a post saying "let go of your desire and watch it come to you", this quote always came to mind.

honestly, I couldn't for the love of God even think of letting go of shifting. I simply didn't want to. it felt like a betrayal to all the people I wanted to shift for, to myself, to my dreams — everything. I would think to myself "how do I not care if i'll shift or not? how do I not care about all these people in my dr I want to meet? I want to care. I have people I love, people I want to see, so how can I not care?", and it would make me so upset because I would see people talking about how they let go of it and it came to them. it almost felt like it was wrong to love, to care, to cherish this opportunity, and to want to be excited for it. I didn't want to "let go" and wanted to keep on holding forever. but then, I realized what the problem was. it wasn't my loving too much, caring too much, or anyone else's "letting go" of their desire to shift. the problem was my idea of what "letting go" means.

in any "normal" situation, "letting go" would mean "not caring" or "not giving your energy out where it isn't respected or celebrated". but. and a big but. when it comes to shifting, "letting go" has a totally different meaning.

• "letting go" in terms of shifting

to me, when it comes to shifting, "letting go" isn't about having an attitude of "if I shift, I shift. if I don't, I don't". while this can help some people, it's fairly hard for others to follow, because some of us WANT to shift and not even think about the "don'ts". so what letting go meant to me was being content where I am, because I knew that sooner or later — I will have what I want, because it is mine, and to stop trying to "make it happen" and simply just let it happen. because i'm a staunch believer that anything that happens, only happens for my own good — always, and if I found shifting, it was for a reason.

now, one could argue that both are the same, and I cooked nothing (lol). and yes, they might be. but. and a big but again. the difference is you CAN care about the people you want to shift for. you can be chalant, you can be obsessed with your dr, your s/o, anything — everything, and still shift. the point is being content. and you, yourself, have to give yourself the closure that whatever you want will be yours. because the feeling of being content always comes from within. don't force it, and take time to give yourself this closure. and care, and be excited, and be assured. you can be all of these things at the same time.

and if you're afraid of it being "not meant for you", then my dear friend, if it wasn't meant for you, I promise you, and I swear to God, it would've never found you. not in this lifetime, not in a million others. never. not EVER, okay? so rest assured that it is a hundred and ten percent meant for you. so, you don't have to grip it so hard you leave claw marks on it. it's right next to you, and that's how it'll stay. and if it "wasn't meant for you and still found you", it would've gone by now. it wouldn't have stayed. so "let go". be at peace. your dr awaits you, and you're going to make it.

and that's all. once again, if you don't understand anything, and want me to clarify, feel free to reach out.

[hivemuthur]

If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?

Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.

ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men

author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.

word count: 1,4K

—

Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say  leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:

“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”

“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”

“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.

“I… I shall remember that.”

Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.

Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.

He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.

As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.

When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.

He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.

When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.

You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.

He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.

Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.

He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.

The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.

He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.

When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.

After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.

Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.

If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.

There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.

He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.

He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.

It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.

On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.

For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.

He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.

You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’

If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.

Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.

Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.

[imnotditzy]

I know I’ve been just posting about Fawcett recently but wait.

Fawcett with Bridge Trolls.

Hear me out.

Every once in a while a random troll will take up shop on a bridge in Fawcett, demanding people to answer their riddles. Failure results in death. (Unless, they can work something out.)

They stay there until someone can answer their riddles, which disrupts the flow of traffic so severely that all broadcasts warn about them the same way they go about bad weather or a traffic jam.

I imagine Captain going up to the bridge troll of the month, trying (and failing) to answer the riddles then getting flattened to the ground so many times before relenting and asking Solomon. But he never learns his lesson.

And he never gets it right.

Once he tried 78 times and only relented because he had monitor duty. He left a crater in the bridge to the point the thing was split in two.

How I imagine it would go:

Troll: You must answer my riddles three, if you wish to get past me.

Cap: Three? Last troll only gave one!

Troll: The rise of riddles is your fixation, but I propose you look at inflation. Cap: Oh. That makes sense, but uh— I need you to leave.

Troll: From this bridge you ask me to cease, but I shall’t leave without my peace.

Cap: *sigh* Okay, hit me with it.

Troll: Answer the riddle you must do stat, or else you will end up flat. Riddle one I will declare, for time I wish to spare; With a mouth but unable to digest, with a bed but not of rest. 

Cap: uh…

Cap: A blanket?

Troll: Wrong!

captain is crushed by the trolls fists and is pummeled into the bridge.

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ doing shibari on an impatient wolverine ┊0.6k words

contains: almost smut!! shibari & bondage, lingerie, taking photos

➤ author's note: ughhhh i’m unwell

this must be the closest he’s ever been to insanity inside the bedroom, being required to hold still and sit pretty for you as you form intricate patterns around his torso with braided rope and securing it with rose-like knots. you were all dolled up in light pink silk and thigh-highs with cute little bows tastefully sewed on the hems yet he couldn’t rip it off of you, couldn’t mark up your skin with hickeys and bite marks, couldn’t taste you on his tongue— couldn’t do anything but gaze at you with lust and annoyance, hands tied behind his back and his cock straining painfully against his chiseled abs with a pearl of pre-cum leaking out the tip.

the fact that he could smell your arousal and see the evident wet patch in your panties didn’t help his situation, feeling drool pooling in his mouth and realizing that his eyes were fixated on it. you didn’t seem to notice because you were paying all your attention on wrapping up his nude body with the red cord, but if you did, you would probably tease him as well by trailing kisses on his neck, subtly grinding on his thick thigh, or anything else that you could think just to make it more difficult for him.

it would be so easy to just tear through the ropes with his claws and pin you down under him instead, tying you up instead and allowing the night to play out as it usually does, but he doesn’t have the heart to do so after you practically begged him to let you try this out on him with batted eyelashes and big puppy eyes. it certainly puts his self-control and patience in practice, two things that he lacked when it came to fucking you, and he yet was still willing to do it because he could never deny his girl anything she wanted.

you clapped your hands together and giggled, trailing your eyes over the ribbons and admiring how your lover looked in your handiwork. it’s not your first time doing something like this with a partner, but it is your first time doing it with someone so built as the canvas and you’re simply astounded by how handsome he looks. it’s unreal, why have you not done this earlier? “you look so good! can i take a photo? pretty please~?”

he just grunted in confirmation and muttered something you couldn’t quite make out, shifting in place from his uncomfortable hard-on and hoping that you would finally provide him with some much needed relief after posing like this for what felt like hours. if he had dozens of photos of you in similar scenarios (and so many others) on his camera roll, then it’s only fair to let you have at least one picture of him in such a compromising position to look back on.

one would think that your mutation was super speed at how quickly your hand shot out to grab your phone on the nearby nightstand, so eager at this once in a lifetime opportunity to capture the wolverine in such a mesmerizing form of bondage. multiple shots at multiple different angles were taken, he’s just a masterpiece.

“oh, thank you for letting me do this, lo!” a wide smile graced your features, holding your phone close to your chest as if these photos were everything you dreamed of and something extremely valuable to you. “i know it must have been hard to keep still, but let me give you a reward for being so good for me, okay?”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi! last anon here again. i won't go over all your advice here, and there's some i disagree with, but i have found it helpful and insightful as a whole, so thank you. i don't know if you actually wanted clarification on these things, but i figured it would be worth providing in case you genuinely wanted it.

straps as female disidentification - i do see it as different from other sex aids; it's partially about not imposing man/woman sex dynamics on sex between women, and also that as part of recovering from trans identity i've been encouraged to disengage with any practices, thoughts, or self-beliefs that represent false consciousness/male identification, and that includes a desire to have a penis/penetrate women/take the male role, and replace that with meditation and mindfulness. unfortunately i suck at meditation so i haven't gotten anywhere. i see it more as a behavioural problem than an object problem; it's unhealthy because it's a maladaptive coping mechanism about reality; i don't have a penis and can never have one and pretending i do during intimacy is hurting a theoretical sex partner.

female infantilization - this is about the bush thing; attraction to shaved vulvas is dysfunctional and unnatural.

being put off women's bodies - again this is a dysphoria thing mostly. i like how pretty much all women's bodies look, particularly femmes, and before radfem stuff i mostly just felt horny seeing nude women, but being in an environment that's very focused on the importance of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics to female identity has involuntarily caused me to fixate on this; when i see a woman naked i end up thinking about her uterus and the size of her breasts and her hips in relation to passing; i know that things like testosterone/hysterectomies/double masectomies/binding are really unhealthy for you physically and psychologically now, so seeing a woman's body makes me uncomfortable now because i just feel a kind of despair that if she has big breasts or big hips she'll never be able to pass for male without hurting herself and if she has small breasts or hips she got lucky with natural androgyny and she's wasting it, either way neither her or me have any way out of this and we're female forever. which is not very arousing.

once again, thank you for your advice. it's definitely given me a lot to think about (and read). i appreciate you hearing me out.

I'm actually stoked for a response, because these clarifications are very illuminating and genuinely so saddening to read.

that entire paragraph about disavowing the strap is genuinely tragic to me, as an advocate that people should just fuck however they want to fuck. you'd think if womanhood was such an innate and unchangeable thing then a fake dong wouldn't have the power to somehow impose manhood in a relationship between women, but I guess the strap is more powerful than I realized. I would love to know if this applies to fingering, given that you can't really argue that fingers are specific to any gender, or women who use straps to peg their male partners.

being told to meditate instead of want to fuck women is so funny, it's really giving 15th century nunnery.

you may not have been born with a penis but it is just literally a factual reality that you could have on if you wanted; regardless of what radfems think of it, phalloplasty is a very real surgery that can in fact produce a sexually functional penis that many people are extremely satisfied with.

okay sure super normal to fixate on someone's uterus.

I do actually very seriously need to correct this part: testosterone/hysterectomies/double mastectomies/binding are not unhealthy. they're healthcare, and the people who benefit from them - which, reminder, is not only trans people - tend to experience tremendous boosts to their physical and mental health because of it. there's nothing radical at all about opposing people's rights to determine what they do with their own bodies, and between that and the hyperfixation on reproductive organs you sound /this/ close to explaining why women shouldn't be allowed to get abortions.

in the politest way possible if looking at women makes you sad because it reminds you of your own dysphoria, you need to get out of radfem spaces and start hanging with some trans people who can help you figure some stuff out and help you envision a future where you don't fear your own body and sexuality.

[elixrr]

Neuvillette x GN.Reader

angst with comfort

“Neuvi...?”

The sun shone all across Fontaine. It was a gleaming, hopeful day, but Neuvillette felt that your eyes carried more hope than all of Fontaine's people.

Neuvillette looked around, turning towards every place that didn't capture you in his line of view. He couldn't bring himself to look at neither you nor your eyes. They were bright and full of pure hope, and he just couldn't make himself look.

You had just confessed your feelings to him, and they were feelings that he did not reciprocate. He couldn't—he didn't know how.

The area was secluded, being in a private place on a hill full of rainbow roses that the melusines had agreed to help you grow. You stood in the part of the garden that held the most roses, and he stood with none—only a singular lumidouce bell by his side.

Neuvillette, after a fleeting moment of contemplation, gained the ability to look back at you. Your eyes captured the sun, and he couldn't hold that same brightness.

In fact, the sun was blocked by the sudden swarming clouds. You looked away from Neuvillette, staring up at the forming storm. He watched your eyes as you realized what was happening.

The light you held began to dim.

Your shine flickered, and it was because of him.

“So you don't...?”

“I am sorry. Terribly sorry.”

Neuvillette's seen the tears and sorrows of melusines, and he's done everything in his power to protect him. Similarly, he's seen humans cry as well. He's had trouble trying to understand humans and their emotions, especially when their reasons and stories are so vague and hidden. Yet, he never dug too far in, wishing to avoid being caught in their daily affairs unless need be.

But with you? The person he cherishes, his dearest, closest friend? Something about seeing your sorrow stabs him, twisting and jabbing weaponry at his soul when he sees you stumble away.

Neuvillette can not fully grasp human emotion, but this time, he knows that you're in pain. Grief, regret, and a tinge of disbelief stirred in you, and with it raged the storm, and the clouds spread far and wide, the rain growing heavier and heavier. He could not cry in this moment, but nature cried for him.

“Oh... Okay. I– I uh, I got it.”

You furthered yourself from Neuvillette, your gaze never touching his figure. You turned away, walking away from the area, towards a few lumidouce bells near the roses. You didn't want Neuvillette to see you cry, but he already knew you were. Before he knew it, you were gone from his sight, taken by the fog of the storm.

He broke your heart.

Neuvillette stands still, frozen in place, his gaze fixated on the grass. What could he have said? What could he have done differently? Your starry, sunny confession has gone to waste, and he didn't even say a thing back, yet the clouds and stormy skies told you everything for him.

With sorrow poisoning him and the heavy rains, ultimately wilting the roses that once stood so tall and hopeful, Neuvillette left.

The storm followed him to the Court of Fontaine, where almost nobody found themselves among the streets or stairs of the city. The harsh weather drove all plans away and killed the cheer with dread. Neuvillette hoped that no place would flood nearby, and he hoped that the melusines were safe.

He knew that this weather would hold up for a few days.

Neuvillette hurried his way over to the Palais Mermonia, knowing that work may be his only escape from these drowning thoughts. Each footstep led a thousand raindrops, and the other foot a thousand more. He thought of you over and over again, your crying face that he's seen many times over the years. You meant a lot to him, he realizes. How could he just discard you like that?

“Monsieur, is everything alright?”

“Kiara?”

Neuvillette turned to look at the small melusine.

“Here, I have a towel for you! It's storming hard out there, isn't it?”

Kiara hands the towel to Neuvillette with both of her hands, and Neuvillette breaks out a small smile, the gesture reminding him of your ability to walk into his office whenever you felt like it, and when you would—

but you aren’t there. You won't be. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week or the following. He killed your friendship, and it is a crime that he felt he must be punished for.

“Neuvillette? Uhm, Monsieur Neuvillette?”

“Uh, huh? Ah, my sincerest apologies. What were you saying?”

Kiara nudged Neuvillette and waved the towel around a little, signaling for him to take it. Neuvillette declined politely.

“Thank you, but I must decline your offer. I have some work that must be done.”

Neuvillette smiled at Kiara, who nodded, waving a goodbye at him. He walked into his office drenched, shutting the doors.

“Ah! There you are!”

Furina waltzed her way over to Neuvillette, each one of her steps executed in perfect animation.

“What is the meaning of this? The rain, I mean.”

Furina looked up at Neuvillette with her hands on her hips, a pout on her lips as the Iudex looked down at her.

“I do believe you'd understand why the weather changes like this, so drastically.”

“And you are correct! So.. why the stoic and long face? Is the work getting to you?”

Furina's voice softened ever so slightly.

“Of course not. It's...” The fact that I broke my dear friend's heart. That's the issue, yet not a single word came through.

“Weren't you supposed to be out with (name)? For ‘urgent matters’, as you would always put it?”

Neuvillette's eyes traced the floor. Furina read this, and her eyes widened.

“Did... Did something happen to them? Don't tell me they dissolved, too...”

“No, it is not that.”

“Then what is it? You might as well be in love with them, no? At some point every day, you mention them! Almost everything reminds you of them! Don't tell me that they—”

Furina paused.

“...Don't tell me that they rejected you.”

Neuvillette looked up at her.

“No, that is not... It's the opposite.”

Furina's brows furrowed slightly.

“You... Rejected them?”

Neuvillette nodded.

If not for the storm and the rustle and rumble from the other rooms, the room would have been dead silent.

“Uh.. Err— I'm not very good at... Ahem! Neuvillette. Look at me.”

He listened.

“Hm, uh, imagine (name), okay? Just do it. And then imagine them very close to you, and just... Imagine them k— kissing.. you...”

Furina's face sparked with peachy and red tints. Neuvillette looked at her strangely but proceeded.

Him kissing you. You kissing him.

Neuvillette pursed his lips, and his fists clenched slightly. Furina saw the smallest smidgen of blush on his face, and her ears heard the raindrops pounding on the window slow.

“You.. How do you feel?”

“I... Don't know. What is this?” His heart raced at the thought of your lips. He sometimes caught himself staring whenever you were with him, his eyes capturing your lips when they pressed against teacups and mugs to drink your orders.

But your lips on him..?

“So... The rain stopped. You look flustered, and you're deep in thought. Hm. If I had to take one thing away from this, it would be the fact that you! You need to go back! Tell them you like them, maybe even love them!”

Furina scolded, pulling him out of his trance and pushing him out of the office door.

“Now!”

And she slammed it... Gently.

Neuvillette needed to see you. Now. He sped out of the palace, and the storm raged yet again. He didn't know where you were. He didn't know of your whereabouts, and he could only hope that you were home.

Through the rain, he fled to your residence. Neuvillette used each drop of stamina and strength he had in him to get to you, as if he was floating on a ticking time bomb, and if he didn't get to you in time, he couldn’t make amends for hurting you and breaking your heart.

Memories of you flooded his mind, his position in Fontaine and his lack of professionalism in the moment didn't matter to him now. All he wanted to do was to know that he had another chance with you.

He climbed the stairs to the little housing section you lived in. Panting, he ran to your doors, but he stopped.

Wait. Looking at his reflection in your window, his hair looked disheveled and messy, alongside his clothes. Quickly, he adjusted his attire and brushed back loose strands of his hair, and knocked.

Ah, wait, gifts? No gifts for an apology or even a quick visit? There's no time now, though. He had already knocked, yet he had a feeling that nobody was inside. It was dark, and no appliances were on from where he could see.

“N— Neuvillette?”

He heard your voice. Quickly, the Iudex turned around to see you, eyes slightly red and hair wet and messy from the rain. You were also drenched.

You looked up as the rain lightened up. The storm wasn't anything near a storm, just light drizzles.

“Neuvillette, wh– why are you here? You'd usually have work to do, right?”

“I.. I must discuss something with you. May I come in?”

Neuvillette looked more desperate than you're used to with his eyes furrowed, alongside his unexpected haste and pace.

With such a regretful look in his eyes, how could you refuse him?

“I... Sure. Sure thing, help yourself in!”

You smiled. Even now, after rejection, your heart still fluttered at the sight of your hopelessly-longed-for love.

Relief lifted his face. “Thank you,” Neuvillette stepped aside to let you unlock the door. “And, please, pardon me for the intrusion.”

You giggled. “Why say that? I'm sure you know how many times I've pardoned you by now.”

You reached into your bag to get your keys, rummaging around all of the items you took with you.

The realization hits, and your arm movement slows. All of the items were supposed to be used for a surprise picnic date with Neuvillette after the confession.

If only it didn't go so badly.

You finally find your keys and unlock the door, entering your house and letting Neuvillette in one more time. Taking off your shoes, you make your way into the kitchen to pour a few glasses of water for Neuvillette and yourself. You expected Neuvillette to stay behind in the living room and wait for the water there, but he followed you into the kitchen.

“I apologize for intruding. However, there is a matter I would like to... Discuss. With you.”

“Go on.”

You couldn't look at him in the eyes. You had a bad feeling about this, hearing the pattering of the raindrops grow heavier against your window panes.

“May you... Look at me?”

Neuvillette coughed, noticing how inconsistent the rain had become. It's a telltale sign of his nervousness, yet you could only assume the worst when you turned around to see Neuvillette.

You looked into his eyes expectantly.

In contrast to your confession earlier, there were no physical rainbow roses nearby, only a painting that Madame Zuria gave to you, depicting a penguin named Thelxie holding up one singular rainbow rose.

The painting hung close to you and Neuvillette. His hesitation was killing you, and the pattering of the raindrops drowned you.

“Neuvi...”

He looked at you. You, who he deemed gorgeous. The sun finally peeked through the clouds— now all of Teyvat felt the sun on its land. Even when the sun shone into the window, you still lacked the light in your eyes. They were dull, seemingly hopeless. Neuvillette hesitated further.

Earlier, you confessed your feelings to him. He, though indirectly, rejected you, stripping the hope— and perhaps love— from your eyes, and in that moment, he felt like a killer. A sinner that must be judged.

But now it's time he made amends. He breathed in, closing his eyes and opening them as he breathed out.

He needed to confess his feelings to you.

“(Name), I... Must apologize about how I handled the situation earlier. I believe that there had been a.. a misunderstanding between us. I do not dislike you, nor do I find myself disinterested in you.”

Neuvillette gulped, his eyes flicking to the painting on the wall. One rainbow rose by him to replace his lumidouce bell.

“I... I think—no. I know it. I reciprocate your feelings.” He looked at you. Your eyes glimmered, catching— perhaps even becoming— the sun.

“In other words,” Neuvillette coughed, “I like you too.”

Neuvillette's seen and heard of the hopes and dreams of many, melusines and humans alike. He has seen their bright smiles eradicate the dark tears that they can cry, but you? Your smile, this particular smile, was something worth more than anyone's happiness— worth more than everyone's happiness.

Neuvillette struggled to grasp the concept of human emotions fully, nor was he able to even understand his emotions. But with his newfound love and hope for the future and you, he believes that an attempt to feel for humanity and understand may be worth it all.

Especially if he can do it all with you.

—

“Monsieur? Monsieur Neuvillette?”

Neuvillette groaned at the ringing in his head, feeling unusually wobbly.

“Ah, yes. What's the matter?”

He took in his surroundings. It's still storming. He's back at the Court of Fontaine on an aquabus to the Opera Epiclese.

“Where's... Where's (name)?” Neuvillette hastily stands, looking around the area.

Aeval looked at him with a sad expression.

“I'm afraid that (name) isn't in Fontaine at the moment. Chlorinde took you back here. Apparently, she found you passed in front of (name)'s house after you witnessed...”

Neuvillette's eyes widened. “Did I witness something?”

“Yes. It's all over the news, Monsieur. You were passed out in front of (name)'s house after witnessing their death.”

[worldwide-simp]

hello! do u still do request can i ask if u can do yan!scp073 x scp!reader

for some details:

the reader is a safe class cause she doesn't want to hurt people and see them in pain she has healing powers as she usually heals staff or gurads who are injured and she is a total sweetheart!

what will happen if they meet? (u can add any plots and things u wanna add)

*thanks if u are uncomfortable u can decline*!

Ooo I’ve finally got an ask! Sorry, I’m quite late with this. Hope short scenarios will be okay!

consumed by jealousy once again.

Yandere Scp073 x fem reader

Warnings: obsession, implied stalking, corruption, pessimistic thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, jealousy

*not proofread, please do notify me if I have missed out a warning, might add some things after posting

How did you both first meet? “…”

• Cain is quite the desirable lad. He’s polite, well-mannered and crosses his legs when seated. Time has carved wisdom into the cadavers of his body; he speaks with many words he’s memorized from dictionaries and occasionally mixes up phrases from different languages.

• When you first met Cain, your sweet and kind nature allured him. He became.. curious, so to speak. Strangely obsessed with admiring you while you’d work with people. Becoming a tad bit jealous when your attention wasn't fixated upon himself. He wouldn't let these thoughts come to light. Not now anyways.

•Always, Cain offered a helping hand. Did you need any assistance carrying that heavy bag? Or perhaps you wanted a glass of water? You could always see him at your service, watching your skilled hands heal others with a passion.

How much time did it take?

“…”

• It had taken him a few months to develop feelings. Cain first believed it was a wonder, why hadn't you excluded him from your table where you would sit? Did you not find his voice uncanny?

•He had only adored you even more after that.

• He had once asked what your occupation in the foundation was, what the foundation declared your function as a cog in one of their elaborate machines. This was the depressing reality. Cain had learned not to question it. They had stuffed his mind full of knowledge to the point he swore it snapped at times, piece by piece.

• Although he had his own mental burdens, Cain would never place them upon you. Endearing innocent soul, let him kiss you to death.

Does his emotions remind him of any past experiences?

“…”

• Cain loathes the feeling of jealousy consuming his heart, it reminded him of a very dark time. Where he had slaughtered his brother out of the same envy he experiences now, just desiring to be injured in any shape or form so he could feel your fingers blessing his cold, still-beating heart and not some guard or doctor undeserving of your touch.

• A rational part of his mind was disgusted at his concerning thoughts. He justified it with a wild vigour.

How would he show his undying love?

“…”

• Sometimes you’d find plastic flowers tucked away in various places, they were always crimson-coloured Morning Glorys and Black roses with sloppy red paint in the shape of a heart. You had giggled and suspected Cain. Though you had never confirmed your thoughts with the man himself. Darling, Sweetheart Cain. Made of sugar and liquorice.

• Every time you discovered your bouquet of flowers, you noticed the hearts had been painted less messily and with more ease, the streaks of red paint precise and pristine.

• Cain felt awkward at the thought of confessing his ever-growing feelings for you. He would only admire you. How your face looked when you smiled, how you rambled about Josie the half-cat’s fluffy pelt and the most adored feature of yours, the way you’d praise him when he did a good job.

•Don’t ever let yourself think he’s going to let such a precious flower like you wilt in his needy grasp.

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

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

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

[voxofthevoid]

I loved your answer to the Sukuita anon! I’d also like to ask for some elaboration if that’s okay: when you said that Sukuna in the manga says he finds Yuji boring but is borderline obsessed with him, can I ask how you got to that interpretation/conclusion? I myself am a MASSIVE sukuita shipper and yet sometimes I struggle w the ship because it feels like Sukunas hate for Yuji is so,,, rigid? To me it’s not just hate sometimes it borders on disdain/apathy which is a lot less forgiving than a passionate feeling like hate I think? And it narrows down the plausibility of a relationship between them (which makes me sad bc I ship these two BAAAADDDDDD 😭😭). So I just wanna know how you reconciled that aspect of their relationship.

When I ship something I don’t wanna feel like the characters would have to be OOC to be together (I’m not one of those people who can soften a char’s edges in my imagination to make it fit the ship), which Sukuita often feels like. Straight up giving me ship-imposter syndrome 😭 💀 making me ask myself am I being delulu? Do these two chars even have chemistry fr?

I think I’ve just never seen a character like Sukuna call another char BORING this much before. Like damn Sukuna can’t even say he hates Yuji 😭 he gotta call him boring 😭😭 and that makes me wanna kms 😭 😭 I don’t wanna ship a fraud ship so please help me see what you see.

I’ve never shipped something so hard while simultaneously being so confused and conflicted over shipping it.

*pats pats* I can understand that dilemma. Hate is a very passionate emotion, while indifference/apathy is defined by lack of passion. How's that quote go—the opposite of love isn't hate but indifference? I'd also find it harder to get into a ship where one party outright doesn't care about the other, while mutual or even one-sided hate are prime shipping grounds.

But in this case, without any real insight into your head, I'd wager a guess that you're experiencing this disconnect because you have critically picked up on the undercurrents of Sukuna and Yuuji's relationship but are consciously too caught up in what Sukuna says.

He be lyin' though. To himself, most of all. There's a reason I specified he must be in denial in that post you saw.

Sukuna very badly wants Yuuji to be boring. He wants Yuuji to not matter—for his ideals to be foolish, for his will to wither. Most importantly, Sukuna wants to be completely unaffected by Yuuji. He tries to emphasize this so many times in so many ways: he never calls Yuuji by name (except once at the beginning and then at the very end), he belittles and mocks Yuuji at every opportunity, and he says in a variety of ways that Yuuji's boring and inconsequential.

But look at his actions, the way he behaves. From the beginning, whenever he takes over Yuuji, Sukuna tries to do things that will not only bring him joy but also shatter Yuuji, and the degree of his targeted malice only increases as the story progresses. The devastation at Shibuya is a natural consequence of Sukuna's fight with Jogo and then Mahoraga, but that final moment where he takes care to lead Yuuji to the very edge of the crater, taunting him while making sure Yuuji will witness the full scale of the devastation the instant he opens his eyes? That's so intensely personal.

And it only gets worse after Sukuna switches to Megumi's body; there are glaring contradictions between what he tells Yuuji and how he acts/reacts. Honestly, even his interior monologue contradicts what he says half the time. Both in the last few chapters of "Cursed Womb: Under Heaven" and "The Decisive Battle in the Uninhabited, Demon-Infested Shinjuku," there's a running thread of Sukuna verbally dismissing Yuuji while actively being shocked, offended, confused, and even cornered by his actions. And whenever the battle narrows to just the two of them, you have Sukuna continuously needling Yuuji to get a rise out of him, while Yuuji's fixated on just tearing into him and saving Megumi—until Yuuji's domain expansion, that is.

The crux of it is there in Chapter 248, explicitly realized by Sukuna himself. Sharing a body with Yuuji, their souls coexisting in excruciating proximity, forced Sukuna to understand and be aware of Yuuji in a way that's deeply uncomfortable to Sukuna, both because of his character and because of how diametrically opposed Yuuji's values and ideals are to Sukuna's nature. Even the very act of understanding Yuuji discomfits Sukuna. Naturally, he resolves to shatter those ideals and Yuuji himself.

Yuuji's DE and its aftermath also illustrate this. You have Sukuna outright saying he feels "absolutely nothing" about the humanity Yuuji showcased only to become incandescently angry the instant he perceives Yuuji as pitying him. There's nothing apathetic about the way he resolves to tear apart everyone Yuuji loves before killing him; he even admits out loud that he's surprised by the intensity of his hatred.

Fundamentally, Yuuji changed him, and Sukuna fucking hated it the entire time—the premonition, the process, the result. He's so insistent on Yuuji meaning nothing because to accept otherwise challenges the very foundation Sukuna built his existence on. To him, Yuuji is an existential threat, and we see it realized in the afterlife scene, where Sukuna admits to wanting to try a kinder path in life. That's one hell of an admittance coming from him, but it's also an admittance he could only have made in death, in loss.

In the end, he died cradled by Yuuji, verbally rejecting him using Yuuji's own words while simultaneously acknowledging Yuuji by using his proper name. And ain't that sukuita in a nutshell?

Even outside of the shipping goggles, they're a central narrative-driving force in the final arc and for good reason.

I do think the development of this relationship could have benefited from (a) the Shinjuku Showdown arc having a tighter focus, instead of being so drawn out and haphazard, and (b) Yuuji's DE and the parts around it being expanded to cover a Heian era flashback as well as more insights into Yuuji's understanding of Sukuna. I read or skimmed like twenty chapters just to put this post together because while I trust my memory, I wanted concrete references, and it really showed how scattered the emotional core of the Sukuna gauntlet is.