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roseykat · 9 months

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TITLE: Brown Eyes Don’t Pry

PAIRING: Changbin x f!reader

SUMMARY: Changbin comes home from the gym, only to find you getting yourself off with your door wide open - a delicious opportunity for him not to pass up. To watch the way you make yourself cum when you think nobody else is around.

TAGS: perv!Changbin, female masturbation, orgasms, voyeurism, reader is watching porn, hints of humiliation, (this is slightly short but it’s been on my mind).

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST

Changbin’s body is killing him.

Muscles aching, quads sore, calves sore. The only saving grace to relieve some of it was to ensure he was properly stretching and had a thorough cooldown. He followed that up with a hot shower at the gym and getting into some fresh clean clothes before jumping in his car and heading back home.

The drive would’ve been a lot more miserable had he not taken the necessary steps to feel comfortable after a tough session. However, Changbin is always in for the nitty gritty training that he puts himself through. Despite how nagging or painful it can be prior and post, the progress will always keep him going.

In light of that, he always needs to take care of his body in between sessions too. For that reason, when Changbin arrives home and heads inside, he collapses onto the couch. Sleep threatens to pull him under if he doesn’t get back up to make himself some breakfast. That's equally important too, to which his grumbling stomach agrees.

At that minute, Changbin hoists his tired body off of the couch, about to head into the kitchen to cook up something nutritious when something catches the attention of his ears. From downstairs, he couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was a TV playing or voices. Felix was at work, he knew that much since he saw him leave this morning. Plus, his car isn’t parked in the driveway.

You on the other hand were supposed to be out with friends until lunch, and as Changbin peers down at the screen of his phone, it was clearly nowhere near lunch. He’s only about to have some breakfast. However, the ongoing noises from upstairs makes him curious to see what’s going on.

There’s no way an intruder broke in. Changbin couldn’t hear any clamour of items or hurried, shuffling footsteps across the floor. It only sounded like a voice.

That’s when it becomes a bit more distinct as he begins his ascent upstairs while his fine-tuned ears recognises the distress behind the person’s voice. How anguished they sounded. But then he sees it as he makes it up to the top of the stairs, through the crack of the door to your room.

“Ah, y-yes, fuck. God, wanna cum so bad...”

Changbin's entire body freezes on the spot. Suddenly, his legs can’t move. They don’t want to move. Not from the sheer shock of seeing you half-naked from the back, grinding your pussy over the rounded corner of the desk in your room keeps him from moving. Only his jaw manages to unhinge itself a bit as he watches you rub yourself until you feel good.

You must’ve been like that for quite some time as Changbin noticed the creamy glaze in between your folds, some of which had made an appearance on your desk. It helped glide you over the surface of the desk more easily, so much so that you needed to grab the edge with one hand while trying to hold your phone in the other.

If Changbin hadn't seen what you were holding, he still would’ve guessed correctly that you were watching porn. From the erotic sounds alone, it was relatively easy to depict.

He swallowed a thick lump in his throat that had been growing as fast as the tent in his pants. He doesn't want to move, remaining in place as he listens to your tortured and forced whimpers. Never in his wildest imagination did he ever think of being in a situation like this.

Whilst you both are friends - roommates at the very most, he has never seen you in this type of light. So vulnerable. So fuckable, even.

Watching you lose your mind over trying to rub your pussy the right way, over and over again. The state of desperation you're in causes his cock to start filling out. He takes in the fact that your legs start to shake as you draw near to a long-awaited orgasm.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, please!” You call out to nobody, almost making Changbin chuckle.

As the pace of your hips picks up, so does your breathing. The stimulating feeling is all too good as it bursts vibrantly at the seams for release to trickle throughout all the best parts of your body. The porn playing before your eyes of a woman getting railed until she starts shaking, makes you wish that you had a dildo or something to fuck yourself with.

Something - anything that would allow you to clench and cream around until you start seeing stars.

Sick of your hands having to do the job, you had to resort to other methods. There are no detachable shower heads in the apartment, nothing malleable yet sturdy enough to insert - either they were too big or too small, or, too dangerous.

When you were trying to figure out what to use, the thought of Changbin’s massage gun crossed your mind. But, you’re not sure if you would go that far especially knowing that he always keeps that thing near him whenever his muscles start playing up. Not to mention, he probably wouldn’t appreciate you using it as a sex toy.

However, none of it mattered at the moment. Not when you’re gasping for air, moaning as if there isn’t another soul in the house. Not to your knowledge at least as Changbin watches your muscles writhe when you push yourself over the edge. The pleasure buildup makes it so intense that you can barely continue to grind on the desk.

“Y-Yes! Mm, c-cumming,” you throw your head back, phone clamouring out of your hand as you go to grip the other side of the desk now to keep the momentum up.

You want to milk every last bit of your orgasm until the very last drop of pleasure leaves your body. As gasps heave out of your mouth, all you are left with are the remnants of a strong orgasm and the tremoring aftershocks that come with it.

As you slowly bring yourself down, you barely hear the creak of the door over the thumping of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The uncanny presence of another was too hard not to miss, causing you to zap right around to find Changbin staring right back at you.

He stands underneath the doorframe with a blank expression.

There are no words that come to mind. Each mental faculty you possess scrambles to search for some decent explanation to justify what you’ve done - and in front of him no less.

“I think you ought to keep the door closed next time you want to get yourself off,” says Changbin cooly. “And…maybe wear some headphones if you’re going to watch porn too.”

“I-I didn’t - I wasn’t-”

Changbin fake pouts, throwing on a synthetic look of sympathy as he steps over the threshold of your room, “really? You’re going to lie after I just finished watching you make yourself cum all over your desk?”

Your eyes widen, an icy feeling washing over you before you notice the bulge in his pants, “you saw…”

“Saw, heard, witnessed - you name it Y/N,” Changbin lists. “Plus it wasn’t that hard when you had the door nearly half open. I suppose you were hoping one of us was just going to slide right in behind you, huh? Maybe waiting for Felix to come home early, see you bent over and wet just for him to fuck you.”

“That’s not - that’s not what it looks like,” you try to explain. “I was just…I needed to…I had nobody to…”

“To fuck you,” Changbin finishes off your sentence perfectly.

Exactly that. The whole point of getting yourself off was because you aren't getting fucked. What can you do when you're horny and have nobody to dick you down when you need it? Who's going to finger fuck you so that you don't have to do it yourself? Changbin doesn't even need to see through you to find that out after watching you.

He can see your insides angrily shredding yourself up with embarrassment. The fact that he just caught you red handed, drawing out a furious blush over your cheeks. Not only was it the humiliation that evoked such a reaction, but it was also Changbin’s words.

Some far away part in the back of your brain actually hoped that someone would come up behind you and ‘slide right in.’ To start fucking you unprovoked. You were clearly ready for it and desperate enough, but the main thing is, you wanted it too. To you, it almost sounded like Changbin could have.

“All you had to do was open your mouth,” he says and reaches down to gently grab your jaw to turn your head from side to side. “Then again, I’m sure it has its other uses.”

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #changbin smut

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johnbrand · 3 months

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Call of Duty: Next Potential Chief

With @mrrharper

Inspired by nothing but boredom, Craig booted up his older brother’s console. If he found out that Craig was touching his stuff, his brother would have easily put him in the hospital. The two often fought, being on either end of the masculine spectrum. Craig, the liberal, more effeminate gay, had nothing in common with his conservative, ultra macho douchebag of a brother. Their fights were more or less his older brother shouting slurs at him for being girly, “a pussy” and “a fag," before landing numerous kicks and punches.

The home screen of the console displayed an array of games, most of which were the standard first person shooters. One however caught the short, slim boy’s eyes: Call of Duty: New Potential Chief. He was unfamiliar with any of the COD titles, but this one appeared to be new. At least, that’s what the small “NEW” banner above the icon hinted at. Intrigued, Craig decided to engage, opening the application. It took a while for the game to load, but eventually he was brought to the main menu.

Complete the Entry Campaign before joining online.

Craig assumed that was reasonable; he would have to endure a tutorial if he wanted to play the game properly. As soon as his finger accepted the prompt, a piercing electric shock paralyzed his entire body. Frozen, Craig now sat completely still as the screen continued forward, ready to engage its program.

Entry Campaign activated, downloading Physicality package…

The screen in front of Craig began to display multiple bars with different characteristics.

HEIGHT - 68/77 Units

WEIGHT - 152/200 Units

ADIPOSE TISSUE - 16/15%

MUSCULATURE - 23/85%

FEET - 8/15 Units

PHALLUS - 5/9 Units

The standardized inputs confused Craig at first, who although unable to move, still held some consciousness to the situation around him. After the first bones began to crack however, he began to understand the situation a bit more. Fearfully, Craig desperately attempted to move any portion of his body while tendons and ligaments shifted and expanded. As his HEIGHT bar slowly ticked further, Craig could literally hear himself stretching larger and larger, eventually reaching a height of 6’5.

Craig began to plead internally for escape as his muscles proceeded to bloat. His lanky body was quickly evolving, broadening with power. His calves and upper arms swelled, thickening with strength and testosterone. His quads widened, bolstering incredible durability along with his newly-prominent muscle gut. Craig’s seat expanded beneath him, plumping while his hardware opposite upgraded into a juicy 9 inches. Although still paralyzed, Craig’s legs were forcibly separated to accommodate the masculinized bundle, his soles inflating into obscenely large monsters.

Physicality package downloaded. Installing required MASCULINITY data points…

VOCAL HEIGHT - C5/D#4

VOCAL DEPTH - C#3/D2

FACIAL SHAPE - J

FACIAL HAIR - 2/61%

STRENGTH - 21/85%

AGGRESSION - 14/95%

Craig’s head naturally arched back as an emerging Adam’s apple distended from his neck, his vocal chords sculpting an uncommonly deep bass. His jaw was restructured as it jutted forward, stretching his nose and accentuating his brow along with it. A beard quickly grew in to cover the squaring shape, with dark hair flowing through Craig’s pits, down the sternum, across his crotch, and along his arms and legs.

Still fighting for release, Craig felt his inward ambition grow stronger, more offensive. In his mind, he had begun cursing the game, swearing to do unholy things to it and its creator once freed. His language and manner became cruder, brasher, and brutish–akin to his older brother’s demeanor that he had typically admonished. Craig's less analytical behavior distracted him from the the final set of downloads that were being made.

Finalizing Subordination supplements…

INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT - 145/60 Units

INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS - 97/10%

EXECUTIVE SUBORDINATION - 0/100%

Initializing GAMEPLAY package, uploading TF4971-Wolf onto virtual network…

Without realization, Craig’s protests slowly became weaker and less deliberate. His specific remarks began to loosen, his targeted opinions evaporating as the progress bars ticked towards their end quotients. While his aggressive demeanor remained, Craig gradually lost the language he wished to use. Eventually, even his reasoning was wiped away, diluting his directed anger into simplistic barbarism.

Once his numbers matched the game’s standards, Craig’s brain was completely devoid of any independent thought. His head was cluttered with only the required media truly necessary. Images of loyal men, bulky men, masculine men in specific uniforms established only one precedent. Instructions on how to shoot, when to shoot, and who to shoot became his only scripture. His mind absorbed the gameplay, understanding its commands.

Now unable to process anything but the mission, TF4971-Wolf did not comprehend his teleportation into an online match in the game. He stood at one end of a battleground, surrounded by other men with the same objective. They all wore the same camo utility pants, thick jackets, and beige caps. They held the rifles they were all programmed to easily operate.

TF4971-Wolf did not question who he was, where he was, or even why he was as he proceeded towards the battleground. He was nothing more than a strong, masculine soldier NPC with permanent instructions to follow the COD programming and win the next match.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #enforcement tf #dumbification #unintended results

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shivasdarknight · 1 year

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i got so much i need to do and brain is not helpful and only supplying me dumb gpose ideas

#original #consider: estiniens minding his fucking business only to get squashed on the couch by surkie because shes in an annoying mood #but it just gets progressively worse as their other partners take notice and join in #probably would just stick to the engaged quad but the idea of venat getting in on harassing one of her metamours seems fun #also heustienne. she deserves to bully estinien #do you see the problem now #also allie would find the whole thing Supremely annoying and just leave because her parents are embarrassing

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wittlesissyb4by · 6 months

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ABC Degree - Chapter 1

Marianne clutched her books tightly as she made her way through campus. 30 years ago she would have felt right at home. Laughing with the other girls by the fountain, flirting with boys by the quad, or frantically studying before an exam.

Now? She couldn’t feel more out of place, like all eyes were upon her. She imagined what people were thinking as they saw her: What does this woman think she is doing trying to get a higher education at her age?

She felt even more foolish about what she was here to study: Adult Baby Care and Development or ‘ABCD’ as the kids were calling it these days. She’d known for a while about these Adult Babies, and how they were becoming more and more common in today’s world, either by choice or by punishment. But she had no idea they would actually offer a class in a prestigious University about how to care for one. She had even less of an idea that her husband would be the one who needed caring for.

It was a little over a year ago when Jack first came to her about his diaper fetish. Throughout their 8 years of marriage, she’d always known he’d been hiding something. The way he would turn his phone ever so slightly in her presence, the way he’d make 100 different clicks on the computer as soon as she unexpectedly walked into the office, and how flushed and flustered he would get any time she used that same computer. Like he was terrified she’d stumble upon his goldmine of a porn stash.

So when Jack finally came to her and confessed his longstanding affinity for diapers, she was actually a bit relieved. At least he wasn’t cheating on her like she’d suspected. But with this new revelation came a whole host of insecurities. She saw how vulnerable he was when he approached her, how terrified he must have been to tell her. He probably thought she would just up and leave as soon as the words left his mouth. But obviously she would do nothing of the sort. He was her husband, after all. One she still loved very much. Marianne wanted Jack to know that she was happy he told her. She remembered placing her hand on his knee lovingly as he tearfully confessed what he had bottled up for so long.

That’s not to say she wasn’t a little taken aback, though. It’s not every day your husband tells you he’s been sneaking off to play with his penis inside a pair of Pampers. She certainly had her questions: how it started, when it came about, and any other girlfriends he may have told.

He mentioned a girl in college that he had gotten the nerve to confess to. She apparently laughed her way out the door and he never saw her again. So it was understandable to Marianne why Jack had taken so long to tell her: he was worried she would do the same.

But Marianne–like most wives in a happy marriage–wanted to please her husband. She can still remember how much he was shaking from being so turned on when she first wrapped that pair of AB Cushies around his leaking, throbbing cock. The pheromones coming off of him were almost tangible, and she even found herself getting a little turned on by how much it was fulfilling his desires.

But alas, once the diaper was on, she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do now? She knew Jack liked her to be dominant. But it’s not like she could very well spank him while he had a diaper on. She was never great at the dirty talking thing, no matter how hard she tried, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach changing a grown man’s dirty diaper. Sex was pretty much off the table as well. Jack wasn’t the smallest, but he wasn’t the biggest either, so it’s not like his dick could really stick out of the diaper enough to do anything with. She was at a loss. She was fine with putting him in diapers, but she didn’t know what to do once the diapers were on.

So she turned to porn. She tried finding videos to give her ideas, any little tips she could get on how to properly engage with him the way he wanted. But her research yielded very little. She found out the hard way that there was a surprisingly barren amount of Adult Diaper porn on the web. Or, at least, she wasn’t the best at finding it. Apparently a Tumblr wide purge of ‘explicit content’ didn’t help………………….

She didn’t want to turn to her girlfriends for help. She didn’t think it was her place to air her husband’s dirty laundry (or diapers) to the public. But, one night over drinks, her friend Cathy was talking about her daughter who was now in college, and that’s when she heard about the program.

“She’s majoring in ABCD.”

“Like…the alphabet?” Her other friend Erica asked with a mixture of incredulity and amusement.

They all laughed, but Cathy explained, “Apparently they teach them how to deal with those guys that are in diapers. I was a bit skeptical at first, but it turns out there are a lot of job opportunities that come with it.”

“So what does she want to do?” Erica asked.

Cathy shrugged, “She wants to be a ‘Betasitter’. Supposedly these rich couples or wives will hire her to…take care of their husband while the wife goes off with another man. Something about ‘cuckolding’ or something like that…” Cathy sighed and shrugged exasperatedly. “I don’t really get it, but it’s something she’s really passionate about, so I guess all I can do is support her.”

Marianne sipped her wine silently, but her interest was piqued. The very next day she was Googling the program and getting details on the specifics. Still a bit unsure, she decided to talk to one of the counselors.

“Yes, the Betasitting class will still be great for you. They will provide you with lots of resources and ideas to use on your husband, it will also open up more opportunities for you down the road if you want to explore it further,” the counselor explained.

Marianne was skeptical, but ever since finding out about Jack’s fetish, she realized she wasn’t participating in it as much as he probably liked. After the initial fun of it, her anxiety took over, making it feel uncomfortable for her any time it was brought up. Not that there was anything wrong with the diapers themselves, it was mostly how uneasy she was in the dominant “diaper domme” role.

So she enrolled, and that’s how she ended up here, in the ABCD building, trying to get the nerve to enter the classroom.

She watched as flock after flock of 18-24 year old girls entered the room. Feelings of regret and anxiety rising to the surface. What would they think of someone her age taking a class like this?

Finally she came to the realization that she didn’t care. She was doing this for her husband, for her marriage. She took a deep breath, clutched her books and readjusted the bag on her shoulder, grabbed the handle of the door, and entered.

The room was a little bigger than your typical classroom. It had auditorium-like seating and rows that ramped downwards to the front of the class. Marianne felt like all eyes were upon her as she entered, even if they weren’t.

She found a seat towards the back of the room, then looked around and thought better of it. She needed to be able to see the board. She gathered her things again awkwardly and moved up a few rows. Girls were still filing in, and Marianne tensed as she heard some sit down in the row behind her.

“Originally I was in Early Childcare,” one girl said to the others, “I wanted to work with toddlers at a Daycare. Turns out, I much prefer working with Adults and treating them like toddlers. Still the same dirty diapers and tantrums, but at least with adults you know what they want...and you can tease them for it!”

They all laughed and must have nodded in agreement.

“I’ve already got a job lined up” said another, “$1200 a week to betasit some rich loser that was caught cheating on his wife! She left him for another man, but still wants him in diapers 24/7. She’s gonna use his money to pay me as soon as I get my degree!”

Marianne’s eyes widened at that. Even with her business degree and healthy job she wasn’t making that good of money.

“Is someone sitting here?”

Marianne looked up to see a young, beautiful blonde girl. Her stomach tried to escape through her throat when she realized who it was: Claire, the daughter Cathy was ranting about over drinks. The one who ultimately let her know about the ABCD program.

Claire obviously recognized her too. There was that small, awkward moment of recognition before general social norms kicked in.

“Oh my god! Marianne! Hi! How are you?” Claire asked as she sat down, it would be too weird for her to take off and find another seat now. Marianne reciprocated the uncomfortable exchange of “I'm good! How are you?” Before the conversation descended into silence.

“So…” Claire finally said after what felt like ages, “why are you…taking this class?”

The elephant in the room was staring them in the face. Claire obviously knew Marianne’s husband Jack. But she didn’t want to out him in front of her and all these girls. So she said the first thing that came to mind: “I'm interested in the…business side of things.”

Claire nodded with narrow eyes, probably in disbelief, but she didn’t press further.

Luckily, Marianne was saved from any further discomfort by the door opening at the front of the room.

A woman in her mid-forties strode in, a couple years Marianne’s junior. Her salt and pepper hair tied up in a tight bun. Black, horn-rimmed glasses, fiery red lipstick, and a sharp jawline that jutted in the air as her pumps clanked on the floor rhythmically, like a Judge using their gavel to command order in the room.

There was a sharp, collective intake of breaths as conversations ceased and pencils and notebooks were taken out.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the Professor announced with a sleek smile. Every girl in the room, including Marianne, replied back in unison “Good afternoon, Professor Peterson!”

“I trust you all have your essay on Yankevitz’s Psychology of Age Regressive Therapy, so please take those out, and pass them down the line if you will.”

Marianne gulped. There was a clamor of rustling papers as the women took their printed or handwritten sheets and passed them down the row for the T.A.’s to pick up. Marianne had worried she’d be behind on assignments after signing up for the class two weeks late. Hell, even 20 years after her first bout of college life, she still had recurring nightmares of showing up to Calculus 17 and not realizing there was a final she hadn’t studied for. The anxiety associated with being a full-time college student suddenly came rushing back to her.

“We have a special lesson lined up for you today, it will be your first real ‘lab’ demonstration of this course.” Professor Peterson announced, she opened both arms wide and like clockwork the side doors on either side of the room opened. T.A.'s on both ends came in wheeling what looked like hospital beds into the room.

The girls all gasped in excitement, apparently seeing something Marianne couldn’t. When the lady sitting in front of her finally hunched back down again to gleam excitedly at her neighbor, Marianne finally caught a glimpse of what everyone was ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ about.

Inside the bars of each bed, there was a college boy squirming underneath a blanket.

******************************************************

“If you’ll all carefully make your way down so we can begin our demonstrations…” the Professor began, but the girls needed no further instruction. They already had their books and bags over their shoulders and were clambering down the stairs towards the blanketed boys. All 50 girls in the auditorium-like room were divided into groups among the 5 beds respective to their seated section. That meant Claire was in the same group as Marianne.

The 10 or so girls in the group circled around the crib-like bed. The boy inside was old enough to be Marianne’s son. He was around 20-22 years old. Further inspection yielded that the boy was, in fact, tied to the bed. His ankles and wrists strapped down with hospital restraints. He made a pathetic attempt to squirm and escape from under the bed sheet as the girls oggled and giggled.

“Now, as you can see, you each have a Betaboi in front of you.” Professor Peterson called over the groups, “Notice their less than prominent jawline, their lack of much body/facial hair, their high-pitched whimpers, and their cowering nature.”

The girls nodded their heads in agreement. Marianne couldn’t help but see the same resemblance in her husband Jack.

“Now, if you’d all be so kind as to remove the sheet, so we can see our Betabois in their appropriate attire…”

The girls all clapped their hands in excited glee, rushing to be the first to grab the hem of the sheet. Marianne seemed to be the only one interested in being a mere spectator. She watched as the girls looked around, nodded, and withdrew the sheet at the same time like a magician revealing their prestige.

The bound boy clenched his legs as the sheet was removed, like that would do anything to hide the large disposable white diaper taped around his waist. The crowd of girls erupted in laughter and awes. The boy’s cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink.

“As you learned from your reading last week, it is very important to emphasize the Beta’s attire. Remind them of their place, and that the diaper is necessary for their development.”

There was a chorus of chastising comments coming from each of the girls.

“Awww!! Wook at the wittle beta baby in his diapurr!!”

“Aren’t you just the cutest?!”

“Look at the little loser in his Luvs!!”

“Don’t you wish you could use the big boy potty like an Alpha?”

The boy winced at every mocking remark as if they were lashes from a whip. He cringed and pulled pathetically on the straps. Marianne tried to jot down some of the things the girls were saying to remember them for later, but there was too much to keep up with.

“Awww!! He went pee pee in his Pampers!!”

Marianne wasn’t sure if the boy’s diaper was wet beforehand, but it certainly was now. There was no mistaking the yellow tint forming in the front, and the big blue wetness indicator showing prominently down the middle.

As if on queue, Professor Peterson continued with her lecture. “After you have properly acknowledged their attire, it’s time to focus on the state of their attire. Be sure to comment on any observations you see about it. Poke, prod, and question them about it. You can even have them talk about their situation. Remember: verbalization is one of the highest forms of humiliation.”

Again there was a slew of comments slung at the poor boy.

“Did the wittle baby wet his diapy?”

“Beta baby went piddles in his diddles!!”

“The only wet thing your wittle clitty ever gets to touch!”

“Tell us what you did in your diaper, beta!”

The boy looked to be on the verge of tears. He screwed up his face and his bottom lip was quivering as he spoke in the most pathetic high-pitched voice “I…i went tee tee in my diapy…” The gathering girls erupted into laughter.

The boy tried to wipe his misty eyes on his shoulder, but the straps left him quite immobile.

Marianne leaned over to the girl standing next to her. “Don’t you think this is a little…harsh?”

The girl’s face was bewildered. “What…him? Oh please! Don’t let those crocodile tears fool you! He is loving this! All of them are. In fact, they sign up for this!”

“Look! He’s hard!” one girl exclaimed as the girls leaned in to observe.

“Awwww!!” They cooed. Pointing and laughing.

“His wittle pee pee is poking inside his Pampurrs!!”

Marianne didn’t believe it was possible with how ashamed the boy seemed, but sure enough, there was a very noticeable bulge forming at the front of the swollen, sodden diaper.

“And that brings us to our first demonstration!” Professor Peterson announced. “If I can have one volunteer at each station to perform a diaper change.”

Almost every hand shot in the air. Marianne chose to sit this one out. She was so overwhelmed by all the new experiences, the last thing she wanted to do was put her inexperience at the forefront of everyone’s attention.

Mrs. Peterson went down the groups, choosing one girl seemingly at random. The girls not chosen groaned in jealousy, with the selected student grinning wickedly.

When the Professor got to Marianne’s group, she pointed across the way. “Yes!!” Claire exclaimed excitedly when she realized she was picked.

The rest of the girls groaned in disappointment, but parted ways and allowed Claire to clamber onto the bed and take her place between the beta’s legs.

The boy squirmed and writhed at his bonds. Marianne wasn’t sure if he was pretending to be in distress, or trying to rearrange his bulging member inside his diaper. Either way, the onlookers found it hilarious.

Claire looked a little more unsure now that she shared the center of attention, but she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“First thing we want to do,” the Professor began, strolling back and forth amongst the groups, “Is administer the pacifier. This will immediately drop the beta into subspace. It is hard for them to argue or complain when they have something in their mouth, and it reinforces their regression.”

One of the girls in Claire’s group pulled out what looked to be a glasses case. Instead, when she popped it open, it was actually a very large pacifier. But instead of having a rubber nipple, it was an elongated rubber penis. Claire chuckled as she took the paci from the spectator, thanked her, and pressed it to the beta’s lips. Marianne expected the boy to put up more of a fight, considering how humiliating and patronizing it must have been, but instead the boy opened his mouth and accepted the penis paci down his mouth without hesitation. Almost eagerly, in fact.

“After you have adequately administered verbal degradation and provided them with a paci, it is time to remove the diaper.” Peterson declared. “Make sure to place a firm palm at the front, between the decorative banner of the diaper and the blue indicator. You should feel their stiffness through the padding. You want to press this area so that they can feel the wet padding against their stiffy. This establishes dominance, provides slight stimulation, and gives you a solid grip to begin pulling off the fastening tapes. They can be a little stickier than normal baby diapers.”

Claire followed the instructions to a T. Smirking when the beta whimpered underneath her firm hand as she removed the tapes one at a time with a tssskk!

“Remember to take a deep breath before opening the diaper! I realize your babies aren’t messy at the moment. But it’s a good habit to get into. The fresh batch of air will save you from gagging more often than not.”

Clair pulled the front of the soaked diaper open, exposing the beta’s bits to the surrounding air. Some of the girls had to turn away, covering their mouths. Not out of disgust, but out of hilarity at the little 3 inch pecker pointing straight up in the air.

“I always forget how tiny they can be!”

“That can’t be as big as it gets…can it?!”

“It amazes me that some of them think they deserve anything other than a diaper!!”

The beta had a fresh flush of blood rush to his cheeks. He tried to hide his face, but again the bonds kept him bound and exposed.

“If you will take out your supply bags, you can begin the changing process…”

Claire looked around for help. In her excitement to get on the bed with the beta, she’d left her bag on the floor in the circle of girls. Marianne reached down and grabbed the infantile looking diaper bag. Claire side-eyed and shrugged innocently as Marianne handed it to her. It was a bit awkward for them both, but with everything going on, it paled in comparison.

Claire set the bag on the bed next to her. Fishing for a package of wipes. She took them out and removed three from the container, which crinkled more than the beta’s diaper did.

“Remember, take your time. You can never get them ‘too’ clean. Every little bit of stimulation gets them that much more desperate. Either for you or for the wife that is off having her own bit of fun.”

Claire laid the cold wipe across her palm and placed it against the boy’s inner thigh. He gasped, perhaps from the chill or from the anticipation. Claire slowly ran her hand up, closer to the beta’s bobbing balls, but stopped. Jumping over the area with the wipe and continuing to the other thigh.

The boy’s breathing changed considerably, the head of his cock was swelling, his eyes were desperate. The other girls teased and pinched his nipples and cheeks, making him squirm even more from the intense stimulation.

Finally, Claire laid a new wipe over his pulsing pecker. Making it resemble an actual tent, or a tiny little ghost. The girls giggled at the ridiculous display. Claire smiled before using her whole palm to twist and turn the wipe around the boy’s cock. Making it more painful than pleasurable.

“Now, if the beta is uncaged, I always recommend a proper edging session.” Peterson professed as she strode back and forth amongst the groups, “Again, we want them as sexually frustrated as possible. It will make their eagerness to please and their obedience levels skyrocket. So if you will all carefully take your subject’s privates in your hand…”

Claire glanced over at Marianne. Neither of them really wanted to witness this in front of each other. Marianne had watched her friend’s daughter grow from a young age to the beautiful woman she is now. It was a bit abnormal to see her grasping another “man’s” penis right in front of her.

“It is very important that you watch the beta’s visual cues during this portion of the change. As you know, betas have a very difficult time controlling themselves. We do NOT want them to achieve release, we just want them right up to the edge. Hence the term ‘edging’”

Claire looked down at the helpless subject before her as she applied liberal amounts of lotion to her hands. Smiling at the obvious hold she had over him. Every single girl in this room with the exception of Marianne was here because they enjoyed that sense of power over those they found weak. Claire reached out her hand and grasped the beta’s already leaking member. Though, it was so small she couldn’t even palm it. Her hand ended up making the whole thing disappear.

“Remember, you don’t have to use your whole hand. In fact, you only need to use two fingers! This will further emphasize the inadequacy of their equipment. Simply make a ring with your fingers, or a small gap between your thumb and index...”

Claire followed the Professor’s instructions, making a small circle with her hand and putting it into the air just above the head of his twitching clitty.

The beta whimpered behind his pacifier. Raising his hips up and trying to poke his way between the tiny ring Claire had made for him. He managed to make the head slide through, but only for a bit. Falling back down on the bed and onto his used diaper. He grunted again as he summoned the strength to flex his abs and raise his hips again, pathetically humping at Claire’s stationary hand.

“Good job, Claire!” Professor Peterson cheered, “As you can see, Claire here is letting the beta do almost all of the work, another great way to establish dominance and have the change go on your own terms. Always work smarter, not harder!”

The poor boy was practically pleading with his eyes. Sucking on his oversized paci with frantic intensity. His thrusts into her lubed up palm were eager and anxious. Like he hadn’t had relief for weeks.

“Pay attention to the signs…” Peterson reminded, “See how his toes are curling? Perspiration building around the chest and temple? He’s close, when he starts to gasp, pull away.”

It was like the Professor was a fortune teller. Within seconds, the beta boy was whimpering and clenching and several quick, short, gasps later…Claire stopped. Opening her fingers just enough so that all the wiggly worm of the beta could feel was a cold breeze. An almost angry grunt escaped around the paci in the frustrated beta’s mouth.

“Awww!!!” The girls around the bed teased, “Somewon’s getting fussy and fwustwated!!”

There was an explosion of laughter, followed by shouts and jeers from the group next to them.

“Professor Peters!! Someone had an accident…” they called. The older woman rushed to other group to assess the situation. Turns out the other girl was not as successful in edging her beta, as evidenced by the massive load of sticky juices covering both the kneeling student and the naked boy beneath her.

“Seems like we waited a bit too long to withdraw the stimulation. That’s okay! I won’t dock you points as you are still learning, just make sure you learn what you did wrong and what this particular beta’s tells were. Everyone has their little ticks that give them away, and sometimes it’s just a matter of learning each individual. However, if they do begin to ejaculate, ALWAYS remove your hand as soon as possible. The lack of stimulation at this precarious time will result in what is known as a ‘ruined orgasm’. It provides some of the relief the sub desperately wants, but without the associated pleasure of a full orgasm. Not to worry, dear. We’ll get ‘em next time! But just be aware that your future clients may not take lightly to having their husband’s achieve any sort of release. So keep that in mind.”

The girl seemed embarrassed as Peterson walked away without another word, the group of girls around her and the spent beta put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

Claire now seemed even more determined to do it right. Edging the beta 5 more times until his balls were noticeably swollen and aching. The poor beta could probably be heard across campus if it weren’t for the penis paci muffling his sobs.

“If you have made it this far into the edging session, give yourself a pat on the back!” Professor Peterson declared, the girls around Claire and one other group clapped and cheered.

“The next part is where their preference sheet comes in,” Peterson continued after the room quieted down, “Again, every client is different, but some will have the box checked that allows for optional or even mandatory ‘milkings’. The wife or caretaker of the beta will often be specific as to how the milking can be administered, but I’ll show you one of my favorite ways: a procedure known as ‘milking the prostate’.”

Half of the room gasped, the other half looked around bewildered.

Peterson clicked the device in her hand, and a Powerpoint presentation detailing the specifics of the male ‘g-spot’, also known as the prostate, appeared on the screen. Through a series of slides the Professor explained that one of the best ways to stimulate this area is by using two fingers inserted into the rectum of the beta.

“It will be about the size of walnut, though some studies have shown that betas tend to exhibit a much larger sized prostate, which is why a lot of them are more prone to enjoying anal activity. Simply insert the lubricated fingers, point upwards just behind where the base of the penis is, and press lightly.”

Claire followed along with the Professor’s presentation by practicing on the beta in front of her. She put on a latex glove, lubed up her fingers with more lotion, pressed her palm against the pelvis of the boy, reached between his legs, found the hole, and pressed inwards.

Marianne will never forget the sound the beta made as Claire entered him. She was always hesitant to try things like this with Jack, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear those same sounds come from him.

The beta’s breathing was much more measured now. Like he wasn’t excited, but wasn’t being tortured either. One of the girl’s stroked his hair while another whispered in his ear to relax and ‘take it like a good boi’.

“OoooOOoohhh” the boy cooed as Claire worked her fingers inside him.

“That’s it, Claire!” Peterson encouraged, “right there! That’s the sound we want. Do you feel the walnut?”

Claire nodded and screwed her face up in concentration. Biting her bottom lip as she worked her hand and fingers back and forth inside him.

The beta was moaning now. Like he was experiencing the most intense pleasure he ever felt. Claire had to use her other hand to hold him still while she worked her fingers in and out of him.

“He’s close. Finish the job.” Peterson prodded, and Claire obliged.

The beta was rocking up and down on the bed, tugging at his bonds, moaning pathetically.

“Yes! Yesss! Yess!! I’m gonnNna..”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, the puny penis pulsed and a projectile of semen shot into the air, then more oozed down the shaft and dribbled down his balls.

The crowd gasped and clapped. Even Marianne threw her notebook under her armpit and joined in the applause.

“Well done, Claire!” Professor Peterson commended, “you have a bright future ahead of you!”

Claire smiled sheepishly as she pulled out several more wipes and began cleaning up the beta’s baby batter.

“We are almost out of time,” Peterson announced, checking her watch, “so let’s all take out a fresh diaper and learn how to properly prepare it for application.”

Every girl in the room reached into their bags and pulled out a large, fluffy diaper of varying colors and designs. Except for Marianne, who must have missed it on the supply list.

“Do you mind if I borrow…” Marianne asked the girl next to her. She smiled sweetly and obliged by handing her a pink, princess diaper with unicorns and flowers all over it. It was a bit of a strange design, she thought. Weren’t the people that wore diapers this size mostly males?

“It is very important when you have a new diaper to do what I call the ‘Fluffing Technique’” Peterson instructed, using a diaper of her own as a demonstration. “Most of them come vacuum or hermetically sealed, and they lose most of their volume. We obviously don’t want a flat, puny diaper, we want big, bulky diapers that force the wearer to waddle. So in order to fluff it up, simply open it up, and fold it down the middle, ‘hotdog style’ like this…”

She held the diaper aloft so all could see and follow along.

“This begins the aeration process and creates a sort of channel for the messes to travel, helping to ensure you don’t have as many leaks. Once you have that crease, grab it on both the edges and wriggle it back and forth like this, almost like you’re activating a disposable heating pad.”

There was a cacophony of crinkles as the 50 women shook the sides of the diapers back and forth.

“We are fluffing up the inner material and letting those layers breathe. Again, ensuring that we’re adding bulk and reaching peak absorbency. Your clients will thank you for going through less diapers, and for making their hubby’s look even cuter!!”

There were murmurs of agreement and awes. Even comparisons between the girls as to who got their diaper the fluffiest.

“Now take those diapers home with you and practice applying them to a stuffed animal, your boyfriend, or anyone you can! That concludes today’s session! Have a great day!”

The auditorium rumbled as the girls grabbed their things and filed out. The betas in the beds were wheeled out by the T.A.’s.

Marianne waited behind, stuffing the pink diaper into her bag that the girl graciously let her have.

“Excuse me, Professor Peterson?” Marianne asked, approaching the desk where her teacher was rounding up her things.

“Yes dear?” She said, without looking up at first. When her eyes rose to see the speaker for the first time, there was a look of recognition and sympathy in them.

“My name is Marianne Olsen and I…I just wanted to say thanks for the lesson today. I’m sorry I didn’t get that paper in, and didn’t have my supplies b-but I—“

“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Peterson asked.

Marianne was a bit taken back by the question. ”F-fifty-two” she answered, feeling self conscious again.

Peterson smiled, nodded and removed her glasses.

“And why are you here?”

“I…well my uh…my husband has an…ummm—“

“A diaper fetish.” Peterson finished for her without even blinking.

“Yes.”

The Professor stared at her for a long while, then smiled. “I admire you, Mrs. Olsen” she finally said.

“I…you do?”

Peterson smiled again “Yes. Few women, especially your age (no offense) would be willing to put forth the effort to accommodate for what is often seen as a very taboo and misunderstood fetish. Most women would run, but you stayed. Not only that, you signed up for a class to better understand and provide for your husband. I deeply admire that.”

Marianne’s eyes started misting. She had been so unsure about this whole thing and, up until that very moment, felt like it was all a mistake.

“The world is changing, Marianne.” Peterson continued, “People are not only seeing diapers as a fetish anymore, but also as a very effective method of punishment, control, humiliation, and therapy. There are going to be many business and recreational opportunities in this field in the not so distant future, and I really hope you will see this class as more of a stepping stone rather than just a way to help get your husband off.”

“I…I guess I never considered—“

“You’re a powerful woman with a good head on her shoulders and the desire to learn and please. I am confident you will get more out of this class than you ever thought possible.”

“Thank you, Professor Peterson.”

“No, thank you. But in the interest of being consistent with all my students, I am going to need your essay by the end of the week.”

“Consider it done, ma’am!”

*******

By the time she got home, Marianne was exhausted. She placed her bag on the coat rack, went to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine, and sighed exasperatedly as she sat next to Jack on the couch.

“Hi honey,” Jack said, “how was class?”

“It was good,” she said as she poured herself a glass of Cabernet, “Now go get your diapers and bring them to me. Then take off your clothes. I have some...studying to do!”

To Be Continued

Click HERE to read Chapter 2!!

#abcdegree #abc degree #WSB Story #WSB Stories

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artdcnaldson · 3 months

Note

Ok so I’m coming around with the cheating fantasy (sorry im on the vanilla side) I gotta ask, how do you think the trio would snake back reader to their quad? The scenario is that at stanford reader had a relationship with the trio, broke up after a couple of years due to possessiveness, jealousy and borderline toxic behavior from all 4 of them. I can def see reader, after some years removed from them, a new boo and a ring on their finger, fall victim to Patrick first, him convincing reader to at least hear the trio out, the trio causing some chaos to readers engagement, all trying to get reader back to their fucked up little quad

GODDDDD I love the toxicity so badly fuck!!! I need more of this so fuck it. give me an au name we’re running this bad boy into the dirt if we have to

You run into Patrick at your second bar of your bachelorette bar crawl— with a short white dress and a little cheap tiara and veil and a sash that says Bride to Be in silver sparkles.

You choke down your shot when you notice him, eyes wide as you get fucking yanked into flashbacks of Patrick and Tashi and Art and all the shit you got into at Stanford. Good… and very bad.

You try to ignore him, but he’s not going to let that slide. He sidles up beside you at the bar, smiling wolfishly, like he wants to just eat you up.

He’s standing too close, leaning in so you can hear him over the loud music of the bar— his breath is warm and tickles your cheek as he tells you how good you look, that he’s missed you. His hand settles on your arm and he’s so warm.

“When’s the wedding?” He asks.

“25 days,” you reply. “At the botanical garden near his hometown.”

He thinks you sound a little dreamy about it, like it’s a fairytale. So he picks at it, needs to make it unravel. “Have you fucked?”

Your eyes go wide, you frown in annoyance, maybe a little bit of amusement, he thinks. “Patrick—“

He shrugs. “Well, I just remember how particular you were in college. Just want to make sure you’re marrying someone who knows how to take care of you.” Your mind unconsciously feeds you the memories in tiny flashes— how nice it had been to be their plaything, to be taken care of. Falling apart as Patrick’s cock bullied into you, or as Art buried him head between your thighs, or around Tashi’s fingers or strap.

Pillow princess. You had always been taken care of, at least sexually. They liked keeping their sweet girl satisfied in that way, even if the other areas could fall flat.

“Particular,” you echo. “You know most people have very fulfilling sex lives with just one partner.“

He grins, shrugs. “Well, you’re not most people.”

It pisses you off. And you’re losing the nice buzz you’d gotten from that first bar. You grab a stupid glowing shot off of a girl carrying a tray, throw it back with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about me, Patrick.” You meet his gaze, raise a brow.

“We dated for— what?— four years? I know plenty.” He pauses, leans closer. Impossibly closer. “I know how you act when you love someone, when you really love them in your fucked up way you do and not the bullshit romcom act you’re putting on for him. I know the kind of sounds you only take when you’re taking two cocks at once. Does your…” he trails off, looks at the stupid shirts your bridesmaids are wearing further down the bar. “Ben. Does Ben know that?”

You scoff, brush past him with hot annoyance in your belly. This is your fucking night— for fun and getting shitfaced with your friends before you get married and Ben doesn’t let you go out as much anymore. Before you have to carry his kids and lose yourself to a newer, boring version of yourself everyone would just call mom.

Whatever. Ben makes you happy. You don’t want to reach 30 and still be clinging to a toxic four way relationship from college. That would be clinical. You had been happy for three years away from them— you weren’t their girl anymore.

So why are you relieved when Patrick follows you into the alleyway between this bar and the one next door. When he pins your wrists above your head against the scratchy brick wall and tells you to stop him if you don’t want it.

“I don’t want it.” You say, weakly, while your lips instinctively seek out his. “I don’t… I don’t want it.”

“Don’t want what?” Don’t want this? Don’t want Ben? His lips brush against yours, teasingly, almost like it hadn’t even happened and you sigh.

“I just… I don’t—“ and you’re kissing him, messy and hungry and so fucking perfect. You’ve missed Patrick’s kisses— the intensity and need. Ben doesn’t kiss like that. Actually you can’t stand the way Ben kisses sometimes— like you’re already an old maid with no sexuality at all. Like he’s already planning the affair he’d have with his secretary in a few years.

Patrick’s hand slips between your thighs and you nearly sob with relief. He knows your body so well, he knows you so well. He makes you cum with no effort at all, gushing onto his fingers.

He tidies your sash, straightens your veil hairclip. He sucks his fingers between his lips, cleans them off. “Your bridesmaids are going to miss you,” Patrick says plainly. Testing you.

“Do you? Miss me, I mean. And I mean me, not… not that you miss fucking me.”

“We all miss you, baby. You know how crazy seeing your engagement photos made us? Fucking crushed us.” He kisses your forehead, so tenderly that your heart starts to stutter. You want to say something, but you don’t know what there really is to say. But Patrick gets it. He always does. “I hope Ben makes you really, really happy. You deserve better than just settling.”

You nod, but it’s all so confusing. Ben makes you happy, doesn’t he? You weren’t settling, were you? He was a good guy, a sweet guy, and you loved his family.

But was he the one person you wanted to spend your life with? Could one person really be all you needed?

You walked back into the party and got another drink from the bar, almost waiting for Patrick to come back in and whisk you away.

He never did.

#neeeed an au tag for this it’s so messy <3

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stirthewaters · 8 months

Text

Too Sharp to Touch pt.11

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Parent’s Weekend is here, and you’re greeted with a pleasant surprise whilst being welcomed by the Addams Family.

Warnings: Minor language, mentions of knotting and breeding

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

It wasn’t hard for you to hear the excited exclamations of students greeting parents in the quad, the sound of cheerful semester recounts, laughter, embarrassed complaints, and little siblings running around practically assaulting your ears as you sat on your bed in your dorm.

Your hands anxiously worked away at a fidget ball that sat in your lap, absentmindedly flipping switches on and off as you stared off into space, your mind racing. You weren’t even in uniform, dressed only in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, despite the dropping temperatures of the season.

You were going to have to go out eventually, of that you were well aware, though the thought put a lump in your throat as you debated whether or not your father was actually coming. Did you want him there? A part of you in the back of your mind was saying no, but you didn’t want to walk out into the quad only for there to be nobody for you. He didn’t come last year, but maybe he’d had a change of heart. You strained just slightly, praying in the back of your mind that your enhanced hearing would pick up the faintly familiar clomp of his boots, but all you could hear was the muddled chaos that surrounded the academy, like a fog shielding you from what went beyond.

Your hands continued to move faster and faster on the fidget cube, twisting, pulling, flipping whatever you could, as you took small breaths to soothe your nerves. It had been the same last year, but it was your first year at Nevermore, you assumed he had just been adjusting. Besides, it wasn’t all that bad, you got to hang out with Enid’s brothers and they were pretty damn good at frisbee. At least you had that consolation. Wednesday had even let you draw by her.

As for Wednesday, you were sure that her family was coming. They had come last year and the year before, and you were nearly positive that she was already at the quad.

Standing, you ran a weary hand through your mess of hair, realizing that if your father had in fact come then he would be expecting you in shape. As if out of habit you quickly moved to your dresser, working on slipping out of your shorts and into your recently cleaned uniform pants while your other hand worked a snaggly comb through your hair, using your phone camera to make sure there wasn’t a single strand out of place.

Your hands quickly worked up your undershirt with something akin to panic as you buttoned it up, fixing your collar as you retrieved your blazer, shrugging it on and fastening it. Struggling as usual with your tie, you did it as well as you could, shoving the bottom under the collar of your blazer, praying that it looked good enough. Maybe convincing yourself that you looked good enough was your own way of believing your father was coming. He’d always preferred that you looked neat anyway.

You hesitated once at the door, before placing your fidget cube into your pocket, opening the door, and heading for the quad.

It was all too familiar, even though you’d experienced it only once before. You hovered by the entrance of the quad, not exactly inside, standing on the threshold in the moody lighting of the academy as your eyes darted between family from family, the usual sea of purple uniform now mixed with flannels, neons, and more. It was loud, but nothing you couldn’t handle, if you managed to work up the courage to actually engage. The hall you stood in felt lonely compared to the bustling quad, only occasionally occupied by a passing teacher tossing you a piteous look as they passed.

Your hands were in your pockets, one of which still continued to fiddle with the fidget cube as your hesitation continued. All it took was a couple steps into the crisp late autumn air and you’d find out if he really had come. You watched as Eugene excitedly talked with his moms, something about insects no doubt, as Xavier and Bianca talked with each other, both of their parents void as usual. At least they didn’t handle it like children. Recognized one or two of Enid’s brothers wrestling in the corner.

You were slightly startled when you felt a presence at your side, whipping around to spot Wednesday, dressed neatly in uniform, eyes slightly narrowed as she watched you, speaking calmly.

“You’re nervous.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” you grumbled, keeping your tone annoyed to fight off the nerves, hoping she couldn’t sense how on edge you really were. Pausing, you eyed her, slightly confused as you added. “Why aren’t you with your family?” “My mother has taken a moment to engage with Weems and reminisce about their past as she typically does. I’d prefer not to participate.” Wednesday glanced out at the crowd and you followed her gaze, already spotting the principal talking to the darkly dressed Addams. “If I recall correctly, last year you were eager to participate, yet here you are, quivering like a lost puppy.”

“Look - I’m not scared, okay? I just…” your tone softened as you trailed off, before picking up again, in a quieter voice. “I don’t wanna get disappointed again.”

“Your father would be quite irresponsible if he didn’t make an appearance for the second time in a row,” Wednesday pointed out, her tone now holding a hint of annoyance as if bothered by the mention of it. “Your expectations should be lowered.”

“He’s not irresponsible, he’s just-” you bit your tongue as you defended your father hotly, ears turning slightly red as you huffed - “he’s a busy guy, he’s got a lot to work with. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about me-” “Yet he fails to show up for his only child.”

“How would you know? I’ve still got time.” Checking your watch you confirmed it, looking back at Wednesday as you gave a soft shrug, shifting your position slightly to look back over the quad, watching the controlled chaos continue. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the feeling of cold fingers brushing your neck, and your eyes went wide as your head turned quickly, eyes dropping down to see Wednesday adjusting your tie for you. “What the hell are you doing-” “Fixing this disgrace you call a knot. Whoever taught you how to tie a tie clearly knew nothing of the task.” Wednesday muttered, now standing right in front of you, head slightly tilted up as her dark eyes focused on what she was doing, hands quickly and expertly moving at the article of clothing with practiced expertise.

“I taught myself,” you give a soft frown, but you don’t move, slightly frozen as if hyperaware of the stark contrast of her cold skin brushing against yours.

“It shows. If you wish to impress your father then the least you could do is ask for some assistance.” Her tone was sarcastic now. She clearly didn’t believe your father was showing up. You felt a small huff of frustration escape you, but you didn’t argue as you watched her tuck your tie back under your blazer, now with a much neater and almost fancier knot in its place. Her hands slightly lingered on the fabric, resting against your neck before she moved away quickly, hands returning to her sides as she looked back up at you with what you would call a satisfied expression. “I’ll have Thing guide you, he’s particularly handy with knots.”

“Was that a pun?” You perked up, a small grin forming on your face as you saw her shoot you a glare.

“Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”

“Then at least wish me good luck.” You gave her a slight nudge with your elbow, which was returned with a sharper one in response, making you grunt.

“Dreadful luck.” Wednesday nodded, a faint roll of her eyes accompanying her words, starting back off into the quad. As the Addams left your side you followed suit, stepping into the crisp air and shouldering your way through families, eyes darting back and forth, ears doing an equally focused job of honing out different voices and footsteps, trying to trace them back to something familiar.

It was all too familiar, but it wasn’t welcoming. All you felt was the lack of what you wanted, what you needed. Everything was too loud, too much. Too many voices that didn’t belong to you, that you didn’t recognize. Too many bodies, pressing in close against you. Your hand was already back on your fidget cube, flipping switches inside of your blazer. Your throat felt dry, your hands clammy.

The scent of tobacco was the one thing that you recognized, and you felt your anxiety fall away, brightening instantly as you whirled around on your foot, instantly recognizing the figure standing in front of you, the sweep of grayed hair, and that ever-familiar green raincoat. “Nani!” You practically fell into your grandma’s arms, nuzzling her welcoming warmth as you felt her hands on your back, steadying you as she chuckled, a smile gracing her features. She wasn’t in uniform this time; most of the times you had seen her outside of her home she was in uniform, working as an assistant sheriff alongside Galpin in Jericho, but now she just looked like your grandma, and you couldn’t be more happy.

“Y/N, always a pleasure my darling. How has Nevermore been treating you? Let me get a good look at you.” You obeyed, stepping out of the embrace with a big smile, watching as her crinkled eyes took in your appearance, from your slightly muddied boots to your neatly combed hair, quite the contrast to each other. Her hands moved up to your blazer, and you watched as she gave an impressed look, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tie a knot this well, Y/N- where did you learn this?” “Oh, I didn’t tie it, I had a friend help me.” You felt a small blush creep back to your face as you reached up to scratch the nape of your neck with a tiny grin. “I’m still not the best in that department.”

“Friend, huh? Don’t tell me it’s this “Wednesday” I’ve been hearing about lately?” Nani gave a soft smile, her tone gently teasing you as she poked your side. “You seem pretty fond of her.”

“S-she’s a good friend,” you admitted, trying to ignore the heat in your face that was becoming more and more prominent at the mere mention of the Addams.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found a good friend here.” Nani nodded approvingly, hands on your shoulders as she hummed, her voice becoming a little more serious as she paused, taking a small breath before continuing in a solemn tone, “Y/N…your father…he won’t be making it.” You felt your excited smile fall almost instantly, disappointed, as you looked away, not wanting to meet her apologetic expression as if it would only worsen your mood, muttering. “Yeah, I figured… What is it this time, another ‘big conference?’”

“Something like that, he didn’t bother to specify,” Nani spoke with distaste now, making it clear her disapproval over her son’s actions. “All I know is that he’d be gone for a week or two. Seeing as your situation with Parent’s Weekend last year I wanted to take his place for you.” Taking a deep breath her expression melted into something more sympathetic as her hands gave your shoulders a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you were excited.”

“It’s okay, Nani, really…” you mumbled, looking up to meet her gaze, giving her a convincing look as an attempt to soothe both her and yourself. “I’m just happy you’re here. Did you take time off? I thought Galpin had you on patrol like- all the time.”

Nani nodded slightly, her expression brightening as her eyes crinkled she gave a nod. “He’s out for a couple days investigating something on the edge of town. I’m not sure it’s anything that’ll end up being serious, but seeing as I have some free time I wanted to make my way up here.”

She took a breath, pausing before she raised an eyebrow, curious now, as she gave you a little nudge as she asked.

“Now, how’s your wolf coming along? Last I heard you’ve been working on your hunting?”

You felt a small tinge of nerves now, hesitating as you sputtered, “-I-it’s- still going great... hunting-” You didn’t get it, you always faltered talking about your wolf. It felt embarrassing, taboo like you weren’t supposed to mention it. You were still adjusting to it being brought up by your family. “Still getting used to it, I guess-”

Nani seemed a little skeptical now, studying you as she folded her arms, eyeing you not unkindly as she poked, “Y/N, you know I’m not your father. You can share with me about your wolf. I’m here to help you. Better than the werewolf instructors you have here at least.” You let out a small huff of disgust at the mention, nodding in agreement as you grumbled, “All they really talk about is werewolf reproduction in class now…knotting, breeding… it’s like health class back at Woodsmore but worse.”

“Well who knows? That information might come in handy soon.” The second you saw Nani wink you wanted to dig a hole, crawl inside and hide, your shoulders tensing up as your face reddened and you gave an embarrassed, “Nani, you can’t-” Your words were interrupted by a tall presence at your side, and you saw Nani glance away from you as you turned to face none other than Morticia Addams herself, Gomez at her side with a welcoming expression on his face. The goth woman spoke first, a smile gracing her features as she addressed Nani first. “Mrs. Lyall, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Morticia, and this is my husband, Gomez.” Morticia extended her hand to Nani, and you watched, in stunned silence as your grandma shook hands, the two of them both exchanging a welcoming glance as Gomez followed suit, offering a handshake as well. The couple turned to you next, and Morticia’s gaze softened as it fell upon you, her tone now somewhat approving. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve heard much about you from our dear Wednesday. I’m glad to finally have a face to match.” As if in a daze, you felt your throat tighten, your heart racing as your blush deepened and you nodded meekly, shaking her hand that was just as cold as Wednesday’s if not more.

“I’m quite pleased that she’s taken a liking to someone. It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen someone our little raincloud approves of.” Gomez nodded proudly, beaming as he glanced up at his wife. “We’d like to invite the two of you to join our family for the meal.”

You tilted to the side a little as Nani continued the conversation, spotting Wednesday standing beside who you assumed was Pugsley, the latter of which was already gathering a plate of food while Wednesday sat stiffly on the picnic bench, reading a book; at one point her eyes met yours, and you quickly looked back to the conversation, where Nani was already smiling and nodding in agreement with whatever Morticia was saying. You were caught off-guard when Gomez leaned down and gave you a warm nudge to your side, speaking quietly with a small grin. “You seem to have a liking for our little deathday, hm?” You felt your face redden again, and you hesitated only for a moment before giving a small nod, meeting his gaze.

“Well, our Wednesday has quite the particularity for grave-digging, and your werewolf capabilities would serve useful in the task.” He smiled as he took Morticia’s hand, lovingly looking up at her as he sighed, “I remember our first date going similar, don’t you, Tish?”

“Indeed, my dear.” Morticia let out an equally passionate sigh, planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek as she continued, “And what a beautifully terrifying night. I’m sure if done right Wednesday would enjoy something similar.”

You awkwardly scratched your neck, smiling with embarrassment as you mumbled out, feeling all three pairs of eyes watching you, “I-I guess I could try-”

You felt Nani’s warm hand on your back as both of the Addams’ chuckled warmly, Morticia giving you an affectionate smile, “Well I’m sure we’ll be quite pleased to have you. If Pugsley hasn’t gotten the timing wrong then I believe the food is being served, if the two of you would like to join.”

You followed the couple, Nani at your side, towards the reserved table, shouldering your way through students, parents, and siblings scrambling to find seats among the crowd. As you approached the table with the group you saw Wednesday glance up, pausing as she cast a dark glare at Morticia, who ignored it completely, arm in Gomez’s as she took a seat beside him on the opposite of the table. Pugsley already had a plate of food, seated on Wednesday’s other side, and your eyes narrowed as you felt Nani sandwiching you between her and Wednesday as she slid into her seat.

You felt the raven’s cold body heat against yours almost immediately, that of which you were somehow used to at this point; her shoulders tensed slightly and her jaw clenched, but she didn’t move away from you either. Trying not to move too much to bother her, you remained stiff for a moment, your heart still racing as you placed your hands on the table in front of you, eyes resting on the table in front of you as the conversation continued around you about the weather and seasonal events.

“So, Wednesday, how was your beekeeping extracurricular been treating you?” Morticia turned her attention to the raven at your side and you glanced over at her, watching as the goth lifted her chin and spoke evenly as usual.

“The hive has been producing quite well; Eugene expects that we’ll have more for the harvest this year.” Her tone became slightly satisfied as her gaze remained fixed on Morticia, continuing, “The Hummers continues to be one of the more fruitful extracurriculars, as opposed to the less useful ones…”

You already knew she was talking about the Pitch Slaps. It hadn’t been the first time you’d heard the Addams bashing the choir, and to be honest it was kind of amusing to see the rivalry she had created between the two clubs. “I’m quite pleased to hear that, darling. And Y/N, remind me of which extracurricular you participate in?” The attention of the table turned to you as you were addressed, and you hesitated before responding, aware of Wednesday’s eyes now on you. “I’m still working on archery…it’s the only one that really looked interesting to me.” You gave a soft shrug, not mentioning the fact you hadn’t shown up to said club for the past three days. “Nothing too special really. I’ve been focusing with Xavier on art instead-”

“If I remember correctly didn’t you say that Wednesday was giving you fighting lessons?” Nani spoke up with a raised eyebrow, and your eyes widened sensing the surprise in the air as both Gomez and Morticia beamed while Wednesday stiffened slightly beside you. “Well, darling, is this true? We never heard of this…” Morticia smiled, tilting her head slightly as she spoke to Wednesday, who sighed before giving a quick nod.

“Indeed. Y/N and I have been meeting to work on her fighting skills.” The Addams turned slightly to look at you, and you gave a little nod, a small bit of pride working its way into your expression as she continued, “She has been improving, as opposed to when she first approached me.”

“Understatement. I’m doing fantastic. Don’t forget how I almost won last night.” You broke in, shooting her a slightly smug look, just for the fun of teasing her. “It must be my natural talent.” Wednesday gave a roll of her eyes in response, though you could tell it was somewhat lighthearted as she muttered, “I have yet to see you up me in combat.”

“Yeah, yeah, just you wait.” You shrugged, moving back to the plate of food that had been set out for you. The conversation continued, Nani and Gomez having a cheerful discussion over fencing, Wednesday occasionally participating with a nod of agreement here and there.

You took a bite of your food, mostly meats, as usually set out for you, thoughts drifting as the conversation became slightly muddled in your mind, staring off into space as you often did while you ate, focusing on the comforting warmth of your grandma on one side and the cool temperature of Wednesday on the other.

You were broken out of your thoughts when the warmth suddenly disappeared and you looked up, your fork stalling as you saw Nani standing, adjusting her raincoat as she frowned at something on her phone, eyebrows creasing as she glanced from it to you. “Y/N, honey - I have to go.” You felt your heart drop and you shook your head, standing up beside her as you were ushered a ways away from the table, aware of Wednesday’s eyes boring into your back as you did so. You met Nani’s gaze, protesting in confusion as you stuttered, “You just got here, what is it? Did something happen?” “Apparently something’s going on around the edge of town. Galpin found something. I’m not sure what’s happening but I have to be there. I’m sorry, Y/N.” She looked at you with a sympathetic and regretful expression, frowning gently as she sighed, “Just to be safe I need you to stay on Nevermore grounds for a bit, okay? I don’t want you going out there when we’re not sure of all the details. I’ll text you, I promise.” You had your hand gripped onto her raincoat like a needy infant as you followed her through the quad and back into the academy, still protesting, “And you don’t have any more details? You’re just leaving?” You felt a small flare of indignation as you sputtered, tugging on her coat again as she practically dragged you along outside of the academy’s walls and onto the lawn.

“Y/N, trust me when I’ll tell you more as soon as I have more information. All I know is that it’s not safe right now. Nevermore is where you need to stay right now, okay?” Nani turned, pausing in her steps as she turned to face you, placing her hands on your shoulders again as she looked you firmly in the eyes, slightly sympathetic but now more stern as she gave you a gentle squeeze. “Promise me.” “I-I promise…” you mumbled, looking away as you felt disappointment seep back into your tone. “You stay safe too, Nani.” Your grandma nodded, expression softening as she pulled you into a gentle hug, you returning the embrace as you cherished the last of the warm traces of tobacco that clung to her figure. She pressed a soft kiss to your head, humming, “I love you, Y/N. I’ll text you as soon as I can.” Stepping out of the embrace, you watched as Nani strode off, down the main steps and towards where her patrol car was parked, sliding into the driver's seat and bringing the engine to life as she drove down the main driveway, disappearing into the twisted road hidden behind the woods, the sound of tires squealing against wet pavement fading off.

You stood there for a moment, the air now silent, a stark contrast to the busy quad you had stood in just minutes before. The adrenaline wore off quickly, and your heart rate slowed as you slowly moved to sit down on the wet grass, ignoring the dampness already seeping into your uniform, hands moving idly at the tie around your neck.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there until you heard a quiet voice speak behind you. “Y/N.”

You didn’t need to turn around to identify who it was. You heaved a soft sigh, still staring out at the long empty road before you as soft gales pulled at your neatly combed hair, returning it to its slightly messy state. Still absentmindedly fiddling with your tie, you mumbled,

“What do you want?”

Her boots were suddenly beside you; she was standing at your side, looking down at you. You didn’t meet her eyes as she spoke, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I’d like to extend an invitation for you to spend the day with my family.” She paused, looking out over the woods as she added, a little bit quieter. “That is if you wish to, of course. I’m sure Enid’s brothers would be lucky to have you if not.”

You gave another quiet sigh, looking down at the grass for a moment as a soft bit of comfort melted upon you; at least you had someone to spend your day with. Hauling yourself to your feet, you slowly lifted your chin, looking at her at last. Her eyes were dark, freckled nose just slightly scrunched as she met your gaze.

“Thank you.”

pt.12 here!

Taglist:

@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax @tekanparadiae

#wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #jenna ortega #wednsday addams #tstt #too sharp to touch #wednesday x werewolf reader #wednesday addams x werewolf reader #morticia addams #gomez addams #pugsley addams

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