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shocymer · 9 months ago

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Want me to teach you?

"Starting off as journalism clubs buddies, you never know how your relationship will take turns after he offered to give you a lesson."

Pairing : Yunho x f!reader

Word counts : 2.3k

Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , college AU, gamer yunho, oral (receiving), size kink, big dick! yunho, slightly pussy edging, overstimulation, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

“There’s something between you and her. I mean like you’re in relationship or..?” Wooyoung asked him carefully.

Yunho’s eyes goes widen. He never thought of dating you in the first place. After breaking up with his longtime ex lover, he completely avoided the topic of romance. He’d been dating his ex since high school. But at the certain time they’re in college, she became a campus crush and immediately dumped him.

He let out a soft chuckle in response, “How could that be?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The atmosphere.. ehhm kinda heavy around you two.” Seonghwa suddenly chimed in while his finger moved in circle towards Yunho.

He raised his eyebrow, a thin smile form his lips after ridiculed by them.

“Nah we’re not. We’re just friends, that’s all.”

To be honest, he wasn't that surprise when they asked about it. It all started from two months before. You accidentally took a glance on Yunho’s phone. He’s immersed in Detroit: Become Human walkthrough video while waiting for other faculty journalism club’s member to come.

Then you happened to be walking behind him before taking a seat. “Oh you’re into that game too?”

“I want to give it a try.” He turn at you for a moment before his eyes glued back to the screen. “But I still figure it out whether this one worth it or not.”

You crossed your arms then slightly lean towards him in attempt to get a better view of the video. “Hmm.. It’s a shame if you know most of the plot through this. Like I want you to experience the true ending by your own choices.”

“Wait, you ever played this?” Surprised that you’re into gaming stuff.

“I did, but on PC. I don’t know if there’s any differences if you play it on your console.” You lean away from him.

Now, he’s more interested in you and leaving the video played alone in the background. Distracted by your little fingers fidgeting on the back of your phone unconsciously, as both of you deep in talk. He’s wondering why is it so small and weirdly cute. Then he glanced back to you.

“So you’re not used to play with the controller right?”

You nod at him, “yeah, last time I try it when I was in 7th grade or something. The grip was uncomfortable. Right after that, I decided PC is much more easier.” You paused for a second, “but sometimes I would love to try it again.”

He chuckled seems to know the reasons why. Proceed to clear his throat before he answered you back, “Want me to teach you?”

Deep sighed left from your mouth, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be mad at me the second we’re in.”

“No no, definitely not. I got patience as deep as the ocean. You sure know that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, definitely a saint in your past life.”

He laughed at your remark and how annoyed you’re right now. You smacked his arm, telling him to stop. Not too long, both of you getting ready for the club’s meeting as everyone already gathered in.

You thought he’d be joking. He never brought that idea again after the last conversation with you. He occasionally texted you only about the club’s activity or college stuff. Until a week after, he slide a brand new box of controller towards you.

“Better started now or never.” He slightly tilted his head, pointing to where the box landed.

“Yunho, you don’t need to buy me this. I- like just tell me when you’re-”

“Shhh.. save that nagging for later.” His delicate hand started to unbox it with care. Then he handed it to you.

It’s mostly dominated with white and soft blue colors on the side. Plus the kitty paw shaped the thumb grip, make it seems like a customized controller. You reach it in fascination. That’s super cute. Both of you think the same way, but completely on different matters.

Yunho kept looking at your fingers which is nicely wrapped the controller. His eyes following the direction of your little thumbs that moving uncoordinatedly, mimicking the way you’re gonna use it in game. Then, his gaze turn to your lips, looking at how cute and plump it is.

He shook his head, after that he explained to you about it’s feature, how to turn it on and how to charge it. You listen to him just like in one of your lectures. Remembering everything that he told you while nodding at the same time.

“Thanks Yunho, that’s so cute.” You looked at him in guilty. “I bet this was expensive right?”

“Well, actually not that much. I just want you to use it more if it looks like that.” He flicked your forehead. “This is my own wish. Don’t ever feel bad about it, okay?”

After that day, you spent almost every weekend playing co-op game with him. He patiently guided you from the voice chat. Dealing with how forgetful you are and a lot of complaints about your sore fingers. With that antics of yours, he only let out small chuckle or teasing you even more.

On the weekday, sometimes you met him in the club’s room. Mostly during the meeting or when you do the project. The moment you asked him to check your works, he’ll lean over from your behind and randomly put his hand on top of yours while the other hand is scrolling the mouse. There’s also a moment he covered the shelf corner with his hand when your head nearly bump it or he’ll immediately fetched the things you needed where it’s difficult for you to reach.

You never realize that, but not with your other two friends. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they keep exchange glances across the room whenever Yunho and you act like a new pair of lovers. They’re a hundred percent sure sensing something more than platonic relationship, when the actual truth is not. There’s nothing between you two, yet.

⁠✧

It's 3 days before the exam period. The faculty journalism club already in chaos for past few weeks. They’re divided into two teams. First team is responsible with the faculty website news update, and here you are in the second team handling the semester end magazine. Your leader pushed the deadline earlier hoping the only left to do is printed it out at the end of exam day.

Your tired ass have been proofreading for solid three hours non-stop. Flipping through the revision sheet and going back to the laptop. Luckily you don’t have any class today. All of you agreed to finished it today. But alas, there’s only four of you left, and making it worse the other two need to leave too.

“Shit, I forgot to consult my thesis. I’ll be back at evening!” Seonghwa barging out in hurry. No wonder he’s literally your senior a year above you.

Not too long, Wooyoung following around as he got notification with a sudden class at noon. He’s cursing along the way. Of course all of you haunted with the leader’s wrath, considering how strict he is. You still remembered the looks on his face when the last project failed.

There’s only Yunho and you left alone. Silence along the typing sounds are the only sound that filled the room. At this exact time, most of the clubs room are empty. Either everyone still in the class or diving in the library preparing for the exam.

The work flow with him lasted for more than an hour. He’s occasionally sipping his iced coffee while working on it. He took the editing part, after that passed it on to you. But this time, his hand slipped, nudging the cup of his coffee. He could save it, but not with your pile of revision papers. It scattered all over the floor.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He immediately crouched down as you do the same to collect the papers.

While collecting it in a rush, your fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Your face only a few inches from his side, making him shiver from the feeling of your warm breath against his skin. Then he turn to face you, staring deep into your eyes. Your heartbeat increase rapidly as he turning his hand to hold yours. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your small plumped lips.

When the tip of your noses touched, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You crushed his lips, kissing him hungrily. He pulled you in, till his back hit against the wall only to bring you on top of his lap while the kiss still not broken. He peeled off his denim jacket as the temperature keep raising between you two.

Gasping for some air, you pull out from the kiss. His index finger caress your cheek trailing down to you lips. You open your mouth to let it in wrestling around with your tongue. He let out small groaned at the sight of it. “I always curious how it taste like.” He lean in to you, whispering into your ears, “and that’s incredibly sweet.”

He picked you without a warning, gives you a quick kiss before plopping you down to the couch, then closed the curtains in swift motion.

Now he’s back to you, nibbling the nape of your neck, sucking on it, sometimes sunk his teeth beneath your skin. You’re squirming under him, gripping onto his hair as the sensation wash over you. He looked up to you, searching for your permission to go lower.

You nodded at him. He’s devouring your lips again while his hand pushed up your tight knee-length skirt, revealing wet trace over your panties. His fingers caress your clothed clit, moved in circular motion. You moaned between the kisses, you can feel he’s smirking on top of your lips.

He moved the panties to the side, then dip his finger into your folds. He chuckled, “you’re already this wet hmm?” Then he’s slipping in another finger, makes you gasped at how full it is inside. At first, his fingers moved back and forth slowly, but over time it’s moving faster making squelched noises due to how wet your pussy is.

He's amused by looking at the face you make right now, moaning out his name when you almost at the edge. He’s stopped in the middle of it, pulled out his fingers. “It’s not enough if it just like that.” He's immediately going down to yank out your panties, then sticking his third fingers into you, moving abruptly while his tongue flicking your clit, sucking on it hungrily. You grip onto his hair tighter, only strangle moan left out from your mouth before his another hand tried to cover it. You buckled your hip as you reaching out the orgasm, biting the palm of his hand trying to stifle your moan. He flicked his tongue few times makes your body spasm due to overstimulation. When you chasing down from it, he licked clean your pussy, then going back to kiss you, giving the taste of yours.

He take a step back, unbuttoning his jeans then pulled down the zipper, letting his cock sprung out from his brief. You took a peek on it with your half lidded eyes, still recovering from the last orgasm. It looks swollen, the unbelievable girth with it’s veins pop visibly, and the tip is glistening with the pre cum. He's stroking it for few times before lining it on your entrance. The tip is slowly in, you can feel the pain as it bigger than your thought.

He's leaning down to you, holding your hands, then trailing kisses on your neck hoping you to relaxes. “I’m sorry is it hurting that much?” He’s stroking your hair while looking into your eyes. “Not.. that much.” You answered him in teary eyes. He kisses your forehead then to your eyes. “It’s a still little bit more baby, can you take it?” You nodding at him. When it’s all in, he let it still for a moment so you get used to it. Then he start moving slowly while his hand unbuttoned your shirt, cupping your breast and slightly fondle it.

He thrusting it faster after he hear you moan in pleasure. His hand grip your waist, while the other hand busy teasing your clit. Your pussy tightened at every deep thrust, making him groaned at the feels. His hips moved erratically after pressing his hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge whenever his cock in you completely. Your nails digging in his clothed back as you feel the knot in your stomach. You squirted over him, making a mess on his shirt. He didn’t stop while your walls clenching on his cock, “you felt so good baby.” After few thrusts he filled your cunt, milking his balls empty. He pulled it out, then plopping himself beside you. Both of you breathing heavily while staring at each other. After realizing it, both of you laughing at how messy you’re right now.

⁠✧

“I’m baaack!” Wooyoung slammed the door open, his eyes goes widen at the sight of you two.

“Aren’t you guys tired? You didn’t move an inches since I left.” He saw you typing furiously on your laptop, meanwhile Yunho sorting out the papers beside you.

Yunho turned to him, “actually I need some snacks.” He gets up from his chair, then put his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Before they go, Wooyoung looked at you. “You don’t need anything? Or maybe you need some fresh air, you can go with Yunho instead. I’ll continue the rest.”

“I’m fine.” You paused for a second, “uhm.. well, maybe I want a smoothie.”

“Okay got it!” he gives an okay sign to you, then dragged Yunho along out of the club room. Yunho stopped his step, “wait I think I left something.” He ran back to the clubs room.

When he got there, he whispered something to you, “After this, do you still want me to teach you? My lesson isn’t done yet.” You flinched at his sudden peck on your lips. He smiled cheekily while leaving you speechless alone, squirming on your seat as you feel his juice spilled down over your thigh.

#pirateeznet #wonderlandnet #cromernet #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #ateez fics #ateez fic #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #yunho hard hours #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfic #shocymer

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 months ago

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Day 4: market day

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You've heard a lot of people say that the honeymoon period only lasts the first few weeks of marriage and that after that things can start to get complicated. But the rule didn’t seem to apply to you.

Maybe it was because you two were young and enthusiastic, because you were too busy missing him to think about arguing, or maybe it was just that you really were made for each other.

You often tried to steal as much time as possible from your husband’s demanding job because being an FBI agent often took him away from you, and sometimes having a few domestic moments was all you both desired.

Grocery shopping was one of those activities that really made you feel like a married couple, and it saved you many trips to the store for food.

“Which do you prefer? Soy or almond milk?”

“Soy has phytoestrogens and more health benefits in moderate amounts. Almond is for people looking to maintain weight, and although it’s healthy, it’s low in protein.”

“Soy, got it,” you said with a small smile at his intellectual response.

Every time it was grocery shopping day, your job was always to push the cart and grab an item or two within reach, but most of the time, Spencer was the one in charge of selecting your groceries. After all, he had a pretty extensive knowledge of the benefits of each food. He always wanted to take care of you, and since he was often away, one way he could do that was by ensuring you were well-nourished.

“Look, I found some tea,” he announced happily, making you look away from the yogurt section in the fridge to pay attention. “Lavender, passionflower, valerian…”

“For your insomnia?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, dropping the boxes into the cart “And some mint and lemon for you.”

“You know me so well,” you smiled sweetly, leaning on the plastic handle, letting him gently caress your cheek.

You two had known each other for so many years that there were details about each other you knew by instinct. You knew his favorite brand of coffee, how he liked it with a specific number of sugar spoons, that you needed to buy him two sets of socks because he always liked mismatched ones, and you knew the exact spot on his head to stroke to help him fall back asleep after a nightmare. He knew you hated wearing shoes indoors, that you had a specific way of sleeping, and that you hated the smell of cinnamon. There were so many things you did as if they were second nature that it seemed impossible to list them all.

The truth is, people at Spencer’s work were quite surprised to find out that not only did he have a girlfriend, but that you were getting married. The event was private, very intimate, and not at all pretentious because that wasn’t your style.

You both had no problem moving into a new, slightly more spacious apartment, now that everything was doubled. But you were managing it quite well, to be honest.

You continued strolling through the grocery store, staying close to your husband, and then remembered you needed some bread. You pushed the cart over and stood next to a woman who seemed to be in a dilemma, staring at two loaves of bread as if trying to analyze which was better.

“The best one is that one,” you said, hoping not to make her uncomfortable. She looked at you confused, so you decided to speak again. “It has less sugar and the necessary carbs for good nutrition. There’s a study about it; it’s true.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wasn’t looking for the healthiest, just the one with the best quantity and price. It’s for my kids. Those children could eat an entire loaf in a day, and I can’t afford that.”

You laughed honestly and gave her a look of understanding. She was a bit older than you but not old enough to be considered elderly.

“I think you’re right.”

“I love my kids, but I won’t lie… sometimes they drive me crazy,” she confessed, and you both laughed again.

“Darling, do you want me to make pasta for you this week? Rossi taught me a recipe that…”

He trailed off when he noticed you had company, and for some reason, he suddenly felt shy.

“That’s fine, love. We can eat whatever you want,” you replied kindly. “I already have something to go with it.”

You winked at him when he noticed the wine you had tossed into the cart, and then he smiled and went off in search of the necessary ingredients.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Husband,” you corrected her. There was a strange pride in saying that.

“Husband! Oh, that’s so sweet. How long have you been married?”

“We’ll be married for four months next week.”

“Young love, so beautiful,” she sighed, as if nostalgic for a time that now seemed too far away. “And he helps you with the shopping?”

“I help him, actually,” you laughed. “He’s the one who selects everything. Before we got married, I had the worst eating habits, and he hated that. So we try to eat better now.”

“Marriages are so different now,” she said, and upon hearing that, you expected to endure a conservative speech and internally dreaded it. “My husband never joins me for things like this; he’s not even interested. In this and in much more, to be honest. And it’s nice to see that girls nowadays can have these kinds of relationships. You know, where they’re supported.”

Somehow, that touched your heart, and suddenly you wished you could hug the woman, but you held back. Then, you looked over at Spencer. He was in the vegetable section, apparently comparing two bags of spinach. You could recognize him in a crowd without a doubt, with his slouched posture, his messy hair (freshly cut, by the way), and his peculiar formal attire.

You had always appreciated having the man in your life, even when you didn’t have a romantic relationship, but you had never stopped to think how lucky you were that he had decided to love you.

“I’m glad too,” you said in what was barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything else. The woman said her goodbyes kindly, and you just smiled at her, too busy gazing at the man with loving eyes. You stood there watching him, and when he approached, he couldn’t help but notice your strange expression.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just had a very revealing conversation with that woman.”

“Huh, yeah?” he hummed, dropping a collection of items into the shopping cart “And what was it about?”

“About you,” you answered casually, lifting your hands to place them on his chest and then sliding them to his cheeks “Talking to her reminded me that you’re the best husband in the world.”

Carefully and affectionately, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a loud kiss on him. Spencer laughed as his cheeks blushed, returning the favor with a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know if I am, but I try.”

“And that’s why I love you,” you confessed sweetly.

And then, it was Spencer who felt lucky.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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nadvs · 8 months ago

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watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#the way i listen to a playlist called ‘fratboy anthems’ while i work on this series….#don’t think i’ve ever written this much this fast??? what rafe cameron does to a mf #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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drchucktingle · 8 months ago

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Hello Dr Tingle! I wanted to ask you about that re: your post about how all your books are serious literature (hell yeah Love is real). How do you personally deal with the whole traditional publishing institution? It attracts a whole different level of coverage and it seems that they're very quick to try and box you and like turn you into a brand. Is it stiffling? Is it freeing? Does the attention help more people understand your trot? I don't know I've never been published but since you have experience in both traditional and self publishing I'm interested in knowing how that's feeling for you

well this is a pretty complex question with lots of different trots but i will try my best to answer. lets start with WHO I AM as buckaroo name of chuck

what i create has a very strong voice and my way is pretty recognizable. while buckaroos do not know what most authors look like, i REALLY stand out in a dang crowd with a big pink bag on my head. if you see 50 random author photos and mine is mixed in and then you ask 'which photo do you remember the most?' it is probably gonna be chuck. i also have a VERY UNIQUE STORY with what i create and my artistic sensibilities, not a lot of buds are out there making trans mothman erotica along with their big five traditional publishing bestsellers (SIDENOTE preorder BURY YOUR GAYS)

now if you were going to take 'CHUCK TINGLE' to a marketing department they would FALL OVER BACKWARDS IN THEIR DANG CHAIR with excitement. it is hard to think of an author with a stronger BRAND than i already have in the sense of 'instantly recognizable trot and specific unique style'. even in answering this you can tell that i dont even TALK like other dang authors.

what i am getting at is this: i am VERY VERY LUCKY because my existence just so happens to equate to what a company would see as GOOD BRANDING. it is not intentional on my part, it is just the hand of fate i guess. im out here expressing myself in a FULL ON WAY that is PRETTY DANG STRANGE TO SOME and it just so happens to work as mainstream branding too

on paper you might think 'what the heck no way chuck tingle will fly as a mainstream trot' but honestly the main thread of this timeline can be surprising sometimes. ive been saying the key ingredient for years and i will say it again: LOVE AND SINCERITY RESONATE. when you make art with this fuel, the timeline will feel it. when you stand up tall and shout with your whole chest THIS IS MY WAY AND I LOVE MYSELF. I AM THE WORLDS GREATEST AUTHOR TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT, the timeline will listen

so all that said, i do not mind the idea of myself as 'brand' because i am not CHANGING myself to create this effect. what some might see as 'brand' i just see as another part of my art. i have always believed that art is THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE not just the painting but what is outside of the frame. WHO I AM is just as important as the books i write, and interacting with my way is a whole MULTIMEDIA experience that INCLUDES YOU TOO. it is the feeling when your friend shows you your first tingler cover, or the feeling when you realize that i am not playing a character. this is ALL a part of the tingleverse and it is all a part of my honest raw expression as a queer and neurodivergent buckaroo.

YOU ARE PART OF THIS ART TOO

it is my nature of have a PUNK ROCK trot. always has been. but to me that does not mean just angrily going against everything for the sake of going against everything. for me, this punk rock trot means fighting to EXPRESS MYSELF IN THE MOST HONEST AND PURE FORM POSSIBLE and to create the art that i want to make without any boundaries

somehow i have threaded the needle in this really interesting once-in-a-dang-lifetime kind of way. my pure punk rock self as an OUTERSIDER ARTIST just so happens to resonate with this larger system of brand and traditional publishing and popular culture. i COULD reject this, but rejecting it would be LESS HONEST.

this is just who i am. i LIKE pop culture. i LIKE joy. i LIKE dressing in all pink and wearing my custom suits. I LIKE PROVING LOVE IS REAL WHAT THE HECK ELSE EVEN IS THERE? i love being a queer outsider artist and using my small voice to shout at the big bad devils and i like that every time i shout a few more of you buckaroos join the chorus and together we are just getting louder and louder and louder and WHO KNOWS what comes next for us all trotting together.

when i post something like 'WHAT A GREAT DAY TO PROVE LOVE' it is not me sitting here in a bad mood thinkin 'well i gotta make todays post to keep up with my brand'. i am ACTUALLY FEELING THAT FEELING and i actually believe it with every fiber of my being. honestly, half the time i post about the beauty of this timeline i am probably over here literally crying tears of joy (chuck is an emotional bud i get riled over the joy of existence A LOT)

and heres the best part of this trot: because i really have this punk rock way it makes me very powerful. others can pretend not to care about success and brand and all that but I REALLY DO NO CARE. i would write tinglers whether buds were reading them or not, this is just my natural state, and that makes me incredibly strong. if some big corporation says 'YOU MUST DO THIS' and i dont want to do it i just say 'no thanks'. it is not some big debate about my career or anything like that because I REALLY DO NOT CARE IN THE SLIGHTEST. i care about the art

because of this, my relationship with my GIANT TRADITIONAL PUBLISHING MACHINE is great. we trot like equals and we get along really well. i tell them exactly what i want to do and they let me do it. i really do not have to answer to anyone and they deserve a huge amount of credit for respecting me in this way.

and heres the thing, THEY ALSO HAVE SOME GREAT IDEAS

SPECIFICALLY my imprint of NIGHTFIRE is very dang cool. yes, they are the head of a giant hydra of a BIG FIVE PUBLISHER, but nightfire is SO DANG ART-FOCUSED

there is no right or wrong way to be an artist, and my path is not the only one, but i can tell you what WORKS FOR ME. this is the advice i would give myself, and buckaroos can take it or leave it

here it is: never beg the big book publisher, or record label, or movie studio to pay attention to you

do not let it become a lotto ticket in your brain. do not think that you are some weak little creature and maybe if you trot just right they will scoop you up and take care of you. do not go to their door begging to be let in

LET THEM COME TO YOUR DOOR

create something so incredible and beautiful and honest and powerful and unique and important that they would be foolish to miss out. create a community or a system or a timeline or a world of imagination that thrives on its own and THEY SHOULD BE SO LUCKY TO BE A PART OF IT

then when you sit down at that board meeting it is not 'please brand me, ill do whatever you want'. instead, it is 'lets make a deal and see how much love we can prove together.'

now lets trot buckaroos

#buckaroo lifestyle #chuck tingle #tingleverse

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imaginespazzi · 4 months ago

Text

Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance. She’d pictured a party, not an event.

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all.

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash.

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out.

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige.

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs.

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs.

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen.

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach.

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake.

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out.

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs.

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway.

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter.

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway.

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially.

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen.

“Where’s Azzi?”

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava.

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways.

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly.

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized.

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season.

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other.

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back.

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word.

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally.

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her.

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways.

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly.

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly.

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd.

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing.

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen.

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice.

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter.

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up.

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally.

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more.

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes. “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes.

“Did it make you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice.

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try.

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, “I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice.

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks.

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?”

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be.

It’s Azzi who speaks first.

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together.

***

March 2033

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back.

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t.

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul that will always belong to the younger woman.

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season.

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door.

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut.

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?”

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict.

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly.

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction.

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him.

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows..

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly.

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head.

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea.

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects.

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically.

“Katie,” Paige groans.

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses.

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends.

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly.

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral.

“All good?” Steph asks.

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation.

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality.

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways.

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones.

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them.

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie.

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige.

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname.

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead.

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea.

“I totally would,” Paige teases.

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze.

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases.

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her.

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi.

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold.

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?” Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs.

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should.

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

351 notes · View notes

nvuy · 8 months ago

Text

an ode to a nightingale — sunday

summary. you were never anything. sunday begs to differ, in his own twisted way.

notes. a thing i did as an experiment and also as a little gift to a special someone (you know who you are) because we both enjoy staring at this guy's face. he's a funky little dude and a massive green flag. 100%.

i redownloaded hsr and i’ve started penacony. i have no idea what’s going on. it’s probably because i’ve been stuck staring at dr ratio’s boob window the whole time. i’m like a toddler watching cocomelon. i cant look away.

warnings. mdni, for safety. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is a controlling dickhead, you’re an implied streetwalker, yandere themes, insulting, threatening, possessiveness, mentions of kidnapping, gaslighting, obsessiveness, lots of nice stuff like that. please let me know if i've missed anything!

“What do you want from me?”

You looked in the mirror as you spoke, and you saw some pathetic state of a person staring back at you. Behind the edges of the golden vanity was the outline of the filled bathtub with steam wafting from the surface.

And him.

You watched as he sank into the water with a satisfied gleam on his face.

You refused to linger on the scratch marks that left gorgeous red and white lines down his arms, and his chest, and his spine.

It smelled like coconut. Coconut and dusted sugar on creamy pastry. And the clogging smell of mascara.

It smudged down your cheeks, and your lips were ruined and swollen, and your skin was painted in purple bruises and teeth marks.

And you were sore. Every part of your body was aching.

Sunday was leaning against the edge of the tub, staring at you through his lashes. He always preferred his baths boiling, as if he wanted to melt his skin off. Usually, he’d bring a book with him and read it during his off time when given the chance.

He didn’t answer.

“You’ve changed,” he said instead. His voice echoed off of the white tiles in the bathroom.

“I look the same as the night you took me off the streets,” you murmured. “Like a whore.”

Sunday hummed. “Is that how you see yourself?” The wings extending from his ears dipped below the water for a moment. “A ‘whore?’”

You didn’t want to turn to face him.

It was difficult enough to hold his unwavering gaze in the mirror.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Because I think you look damaged.” He was honest this time, and there was bitterness swelling with his tone. He instinctively fluttered his feathers to dry them off.

“By your design.” You were speaking of how he made it his duty to ruin your skin with his teeth.

“What I’ve done to you is nothing. You had already ruined yourself by offering your body to those disgusting animals before I had ever even laid my eyes on you.” He waved his hand as if he meant no harm with his words. “I’ve merely saved you.”

Your jaw clenched.

He fluttered his lashes at you in the mirror and sighed.

What a pretty sight.

“‘Saved me?’” you repeated hoarsely. You tried not to claw at your skin in frustration. You willed yourself not to lunge at him and puncture his eyes from his skull. “Do me a favour and save me from your arrogance next. You’re deluded if you think trapping me in your bedroom is praiseworthy.”

He smiled.

“Think of it this way: a bird is much safer trapped in a cage than free to the winds.” The smell of coconut and sugared powder made your head spin. Of course, he would use the soaps and creams you wore when he first met you. The smell was engraved into his mind like a branding.

Although covered by a robe, you felt vulnerable. His gaze held strong. You weren’t sure if he was even blinking.

Sunday seemed too relaxed. Your freedom was a joke to him; what is freedom if you’re too busy giving your body to strangers? Did you want to go back to that life?

“You want me to get in the tub just so you can humiliate me,” you accused with a dangerous flash of your teeth.

You wanted to sound angry. You wanted to sound furious, but it was only a pitiful whimper of a phrase. You felt pathetically weak.

He was quick to answer, “I did not request your company.” He patted the book with golden edges that sat on a ledge of the bathtub. You didn’t want to ask of its contents. “You came here of your own fruition. You felt lonely.”

“You think you know everything about me.”

“But of course.” Sunday plucked the book from the ledge, careful not to wet the pages as he turned to the page he’d marked. “You are mine, after all.”

His tone was light. Confident.

Your face was burning. “Fuck you.”

Who even were you? Who were you next to him?

Nothing, was the appropriate answer. He insisted otherwise, though he’d never given you a definitive answer of what you were. He’d never explicitly stated you to be a whore, disobedient, disrespectful, too independent for your own good.

Everything you hated to hear about yourself, even if it was all true.

He’d only tut and usher you away with a wave of his hand.

You’re his, as well.

His teeth in your skin, his feathers tickling your neck, his wandering fingers that crept below your navel. He’s stained your skin with his. It’s hard to wash off—even harder when he shares the same soaps as you.

Perhaps he knows this, and that’s why he hopes you share a bath with him.

So you’re reminded that there’s a chain around your ankle.

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, y’know. You think you’re so high and mighty, and yet you’re naked and pining after some street whore. And then you insist that I belong to you, but also beg for me beneath your own sheets.” But that wasn’t true.

As soon as the words left your lips you screwed your eyes shut and you leaned over the vanity.

His smile only grew, and the tip of his tongue touched the sharp edge of his canines.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the marble countertop.

Here he was, vulnerable. Susceptible to a swift slice of a blade to his neck, to being held beneath the surface of the water until he stopped flailing.

And you’re still so afraid of him.

He reads you like the book in his hands.

Sunday cooed. “Just like water, you are destructible, easily poisoned, and ever changing. You are lost, entrapped within four walls, so desperate to escape, but you cannot think for yourself.”

You furrowed your brows.

He turned the page of his book. The water sloshed as his arms moved.

The smell of coconut was hurting your head.

“You speak in tongues because you’re scared of ruining your perfect image,” you said. “You’re just an insecure little boy who's stuck in a daydream.”

That forced his head to turn. He almost snapped his book shut. Instead, his fingers froze on the edges of the crisp paper.

Then, he let out a hearty laugh.

“Allow me to rephrase: your beauty is wicked. It is rotten, vile, and evil.” The sweet scent of sugar was a cruel joke. It juxtaposed everything that spilled from his filthy lips. “Your blood is muddied and ruined. You’ve allowed strangers to see your skin.

“You’re lucky I’ve tolerated your behaviour for this long. If you were anybody else, you would have lost your foul tongue after our first night together.”

The way he said it all made you feel so much smaller than you were.

You finally turned around to face him. The reflection in the mirror made the bathtub seem further away than it actually was.

The tub was in the centre of the room, craved meticulously from a blue crystal. To you, it closely resembled aquamarine. It was big enough to be considered a swimming pool if you removed the golden faucet, but you refrained from insulting his fussy craftsmanship and adding fuel to the fire.

Sunday was particular about everything; sizing, shapes, colours. Everything had to match, everything had to make sense, everything had to be perfect and presentable. Any faults or flaws were dealt with swiftly, whether that be a person or an object. You weren’t sure if you were considered one or the other.

Then came the specifics. A ledge for placing things, voids in the walls for storing soaps, adequate cupboards, flooring, walls, forms, everything.

Aeons forbid you dropped a glass and scratched the precious tiling.

And he was particular about you, though he never clearly stated what he wanted from you.

He wanted you. That was clear from how he would coax you to join him with gentle words and fleeting touches. How he would stain your skin and leave an imprint of your body on his bedsheets.

Anything other than that was muddled, muddied, lost in his own deluded mind.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him again.

Sunday fluttered his lashes at you. “Nothing at all.”

“Have you ever told the truth?”

You had instinctively drawn yourself closer to him. You leaned over the tub, fingers curled around the rim of crystal.

Sunday sighed. He looked sick, like delusion had twisted through his mind like poison ivy crawling along the walls of the gardens outside. “You are afraid of the truth.”

“You’re lying again.” He wasn’t lying, but you refused to make him feel as though he was in control.

That was he fed off.

Your fear, your touch, your taste, your words, every inch of your skin. His. All of it.

“I want everything,” he stated.

You wanted to break the tub and slit his throat with the shards of crystal.

“I want you to give yourself to me. All of yourself.”

How selfish of him.

He still views you as an offering.

You turned away and moved to storm out of the bathroom. You would wait until he was finished. You couldn’t be in the room with him.

The steam was burning your skin, and your scent on him was making your head feel like it was splitting apart.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look back.

You would have described his eyes as beautiful; golden irides with hints of plush velvet and a deep sapphire. But all he did was stare. He’d never look away, and he never wished to.

He saw things you did not.

“I want undying loyalty.” When you squirmed, he held your cheeks harder. “I want hopeless devotion. I want compassion. I want to see the silhouette of you in my bed first thing every morning.”

Your nails were frozen digging into his wrist, still wet and hot from the water.

He seemed as though he wished to say more, though refrained when he let go of your face. He’d abandoned his book now, his gaze remaining locked onto you.

Your cheeks stung from his fingerprints. You feared the patterns would be burned into your flesh.

“I want you to stop,” you whispered.

You knew what he was doing.

“Oh, I will.” This time, when his fingers raised for your face, he simply grazed them along your sore cheek. “Join me.”

You didn’t answer at first. You didn’t even move from your spot, frozen as if he’d drawn ice down your spine.

You breathed out. Your fingers were trembling.

“I’m not stupid,” you said. You were trying to convince yourself it was true.

Sunday only tilted his head. “No, you’re not stupid.”

He was already pulling the string of the bow around your waist. His wings bristled.

“I know what you’re doing,” you insisted, holding onto the fluffy material when he undid the knot holding the robe together. “I know what you’re doing.”

He smiled playfully. His hands pushed away the robe. “What am I doing?”

Your eyes welled with tears.

You don’t know what he’s doing. You are stupid.

You wished you’d never met him. You wished you’d never let soft hands and kind words and those pretty eyes of his draw you into his bed.

You shouldn’t have ever crawled back to him.

You let out a pathetic sob.

“Oh, you sweet thing.”

Sunday tutted pitifully and offered his hand.

Almost instinctively, as if it had been written in your blood since the moment you were born, you took it and leaned into his embrace.

His hair smelled of sugared tea. The feathers of his wings grazed over your face, now soaked with your tears.

He gently drew you into the water, murmuring something bordering on praise. You didn’t even hear what he said.

“I will make you all better.”

The water was hot. His lips on your cheek made you dizzy. The mirror had completely steamed up by now, and your chest pressed flush against his.

You tried to push him off you. You tried. You really did. You’d done this before, many times. Letting him break you down and watching as you lost control of your limbs and clawed at him until he held you.

He was good at that. Predicting. Letting things form the way they always did.

You were so angry. Angry at yourself, at him, at everything. Weakly, you curled your fists and hit his shoulders defeatedly. You heard him laugh.

All you did was betray yourself, surrendering and stilling as his cold hands dipped below the water.

“I will make you whole again.”

#sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #hsr x reader #sunday x you #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#✦ ( after hours. )

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kitorin · 1 year ago

Text

"I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"What's wrong, Rin?" Another page turns, your eyes remain glued to the novel, head resting on his thighs as his fingers occasionally poke your cheek.

"Am I ugly?"

The question makes you choke on your spit; Itoshi Rin, the very man who had you infatuated at first glance with his prominent eye lashes and his wintry gaze, just asked if he was hideous.

"Who the hell said that?" The surprise makes you sit up, and Rin barely dodges collision with your head. It's common knowledge that he couldn't care less about his appearance, skin and hair care were simply for hygiene, which was all that mattered to him. There's anger heating up at the thought of someone breaking his indifference, and it reveals itself through your speech

"No one, Yukimiya's photographer came for a photo shoot. Everything went well until I noticed the lines on my face."

"Lines?"

He nods "They weren't there before." His fingers ghost over an area near his cheeks. "Apparently they're not supposed to be there." Rin reaches into his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo.

It's a photo of him, Hiori and Yukimiya, the three of them grinning whilst being covered in designer brands. Nothing seemed wrong, it's an adorable photo; revealing Rin's typically concealed dimples, eyes squinting with joy, the kind of smile he uses when he's genuinely happy, instead of the polite and subtle one he gives to interviewers.

"I don't see an issue."

"Here." He zooms into his face. "Those things." His lithe fingers point towards the area between the sides of his nose and the corners of his mouth. Smile lines.

"Fans said they shouldn't be there. So, am I ugly now?"

There's a legitimate confusion laced with his tone, and you silently thank how he decided to talk about it with you before believing in whatever comments were left on Instagram.

"First, whatever fans say have no credibility, they're just people on the internet. Second." You climb into his lap again, cupping his cheeks and once again getting lost in the depths of his beryl irises. "Those are called smile lines. You're not ugly for having them, and never will be." His aquamarine eyes gaze back, as you brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Even if they weren't there before?"

"Of course. They're a sign you're living a life filled with joy and happiness. And that is more beautiful than any beauty standard out there, and so are you." Your thumbs trace the creases, the entirety of your palms can feel the warmth of his cheeks, savouring how the softness contrasts the callousness of your hands. "You're beautiful, you always have been and always will be. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

Your lips plant a kiss on his forehead, and you soon return to admiring every crevice of his face. From the viridescent azure irises and the eyelashes which adorn them, how surprisingly soft and squishy his cheeks are (of course only you'll ever know that).

"Thank you for putting them there then."

"Hm?"

"I never had reasons to smile. Not until I met you."

Anyone can tell Itoshi Rin seldom expresses emotion, let alone joy; but you had always assumed he kept it to himself rather than believe nothing was worth his jubilation.

His hands reach for yours, fingers ghosting over them. "Thank you for brightening my life, for being the reason why I'm able to live so happily." Gently, his hand pries one of yours off his face, placing a kiss on it. "I love you."

Rin smiles; it's soft, exposing his dimples and smile lines, cheeks matching his lips in colour. You're pretty sure you're just as flushed.

A quick peck to his lips (he still tastes like the persimmon haichuu you were eating together earlier) and you swear he somehow grows redder. "Does this mean I'm allowed to have the last ice cream?"

"You're supposed to say it back dumbass. And fuck no, that's mine." Despite his callous language he picks you up into a cradle carry, placing you down besides him, soon making his way to the front door. "What flavours do you want? And what kind and which brand?"

"Awww, I love you too, I want the vanilla and melon soft serve by the way."

Rin scoffs. "Of course you only say it back when I'm doing you a favour." But he's pocketing his wallet, and about to unlock the door to leave. "You're annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Are you sure? Because I'm buying every flavour of yukimidaifuku and you're not getting any. Milky candy too." You don't miss the smirk on his face at the sight of your disbelief.

"I hate you."

"Love you too darlin'."

[In the end "you're not getting any" was a lie]

Tagging: @yuzurins

#this was rushed yet it rotted in my drafts for a bit lmfao #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #fluff #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock manga #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing #rin fluff #itoshi rin fluff

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beardysuits · 2 months ago

Text

Closer to Dad pt 2

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist.

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight.

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height.

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me.

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again.

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today.

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste.

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one.

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in.

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled.

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge.

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard.

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me.

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days.

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different.

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me.

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate.

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can.

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me.

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer.

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it.

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”.

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel.

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible.

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.”

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink.

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered.

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that.

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer.

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee.

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground.

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age.

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase.

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked.

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”.

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk.

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy!

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique.

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me.

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling.

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released.

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists.

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits.

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him.

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily.

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all.

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast.

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth.

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him.

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively.

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white.

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy.

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest.

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself.

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp.

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh.

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva.

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial.

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body.

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity.

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside.

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward.

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath.

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself.

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding.

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body.

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming.

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking.

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs.

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps.

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

A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

Thank you all!

#male bodypossession #male possession #body possession #male takeover #father and son #dad takeover #male transformation #possesion #male bodysuit #uncle and dad

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juuuulez · 8 months ago

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📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut

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unholybacon355 · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 7 - Jang Wonyoung x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

“Make me.” She said before running away from you with a big smile on her face.

These days are the ones that demand more of your patience at work. Because during these kinds of days you feel more like you're babysitting the most spoiled idol ever, than just doing your job as her personal bodyguard.

“Get here and eat your breakfast.” You pointed to the little table in front of you, with a whole meal served as the breakfast for your client. “We can't be late for this appointment, and I'm not letting you go with your stomach empty.” All the answer you got was a giggle and the sound of her barefoot steps running away. “Don’t make me go for you.”

“Come and make me eat, but I’m hungry for a different thing.” Knowing exactly what she wants you rolls your eyes. There is no way you can give her what she wants and still have time to make her eat the damn breakfast. But also you know she's getting what she wants, she always does.

The hotel room was huge, and that is being humble with the description. Because this was more like a small apartment than a hotel room. Have its own mini kitchen and living room separated for the actual room with the bed, not to mention a fully equipped bathroom with a bathtub inside. But no matter how big it was you still crossed very quickly the distance from the kitchen to the bedroom, where Wonyoung was trying to hide. When she saw you coming she ran again but you were faster and grabbed her by her wrist pulling her on a hug.

Wonyoung was smiling between your arms, with her precious features full of joy. Of course she was enjoying this, she always does. That's why she still keeps you around. You were at least twenty years older than her, with a failed marriage but an impeccable career (Maybe that’s why your marriage failed after all), and still in pretty good shape for someone your age. You could be her dad, but instead Wonyoung prefers to call you Daddy. You really don't care about that.

She already offered to pay you extra for this little other service but you couldn’t accept it. How could you when that other job consists in fuck one of the most beautifull and desired womans in the entire world. It is true, this looks like you were taking advantage of her, but to be honest who was the big celebrity and who was just a random bodyguard? You both knew perfectly well who was in charge here, but for the good of this game you make it look like you are the one in charge.

“Are you here to give me my breakfast?” She asked, biting her lower lip and hugging you back.

“Yes, but I'm going to do it on my own terms.” You grab her tiny butt, only covered by a white pantie made by the brand she was an ambassador for, squeezing her delicious buttocks. Your other hand travels under her loose shirt (Also made by the same brand) to her perky little tiddies. When you make one of her nipples roll under your fingers. That action grants you a small moan from her. “Now get out of your clothes and put in all four over the bed. And don't say… Oh forget it! I know you're gonna say “Make me”.”

In fact she was about to say that but you leave no time to Wonyoung to speak before you grab her by the waist and you gently throw her on the bed. Even faster you take off her clothes, the last thing you need now was her panties being dirty, and put her over her stomach.

“I like when Daddy is rude to me. That makes my pussy throb.” A demonstration of that was her putting in all four for you. putting her ass up in the hair and causing her cheeks to spread a little letting you see her wrinkle back entrance and her perfectly shaved pussy lips.

Your hands travel once again to her buttocks squeezing and spreading, giving you more access to her little anus. Where your tongue began to draw circles letting your saliva all over the place.

“AAggnnhg Daddy! I want you on my pussy. Has been so long since the last time you fucked me.”

“This is what you are receiving for not eating breakfast.” Now your tongue began to attack her butthole more violently, till the point to even penetrate a little bit sometimes. You were leaving her ass shiny with all your saliva over there, while still massaging her buttocks.

“Daddy my pussy pls.” But you deliberately left her most needy part unattended. Sometimes you need to give her some lessons, not always can be a win for her. And now as she was begging for you to fuck her pretty pussy you were about to stuff your meat up her ass.

You open your zipper and take out your already hard dick, that was all the naked you needed to be in this situation because you weren’t making love, this was just sex. You spit on her already wet butthole and instead your shaft is your index fix what comes through her wrinkle entrance, eliciting moans from Wonyoung. She enjoys it but still isn't what she wants.

“Not there Daddy. On my pussy, please. I’m already wet for you.” But again you don't pay attention to her words and now is the tip of your hard cock that is threatening to penetrate her ass. She moans, you moan, your hard dick pushes her rear entrance and little by little she's losing it. Inch by inch your dick goes inside her rectum. The sensation is incredible, wonderful, something really life changing.

Her ass is even tighter than her pussy, allowing you to feel everything when your dick comes in and comes out of her little body. Her muscle ring is threatening to never letting your glans to abandon her rectum cavity. You're trapped inside her ass, and in some way this is a punishment to her. Even when Wonyoung’s moans tell you she’s really enjoying this experience.

And you do too, because take too little effort to her tight asshole to make your balls ache in anticipation. You wanna hold it, you wan´t to keep fucking Jang Wongyoung in her ass. You wanna keep making her cry of pleasure even when she says she wants you in her pussy instead of her ass. But you also know that there is just a small window of time when you can fuck her freely. If you do it longer someone could come looking for Wonyoung, and no one needs a sex scandal right now.

So you touch her clit, you massage her perfect and silky fold. Then you put two fingers inside her, fucking her pretty pussy with your hand. Hitting in every trust her clit with your palm. “That’s what you asked for. Daddy is fuckking yor little cunt now.” You whisper in his ear, and as if it were a spell casted by you her body tenses immediately. You feel how her pussy squeezes your fingers and how the walls of her rectum are practically clenching your hard dick. And that makes you hit your orgasm too.

Now the both of you are cumming at the same time. She is shaking and being over-stimulated for the sensation of being double penetrated by you. And you having your milk almost ripped off your body by the contractions of her ass. She’s practically milking you, so you allow yourself to groan out of pure pleasure while the last drops of your seed leave your body.

You take your dick out of her body and leave her free. Wonyoungs falls again over the bed laying on her stomach with her legs open. A smile forms on your lips because you can see how her butthole is still a little bit open, with your milk dripping out. You’re sure she learned the lesson this time, but you still can teach her something more.”

“Here, put your pretty mouth to work and clean it.” You say standing in front of her pointing your dick to her face.

“Yes Daddy.” She says before opening her mouth waiting for you to put your shaft inside of her again.

#ive smut #wonyoung smut #wonyoung #jang wonyoung #fanfic #kinktober 2024 #kpop smut

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hawkinsbnbg · 3 months ago

Text

shooting stars

prompts: backseat, bruise, clothes on | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: mutual pining, fwb to lovers, hand job, blow job, come swallowing, soft dom Eddie Munson, good boy Steve Harrington.

word count: 2k4 | rated: E | ao3

Steve didn't know how he ended up having Eddie Munson between his legs in the backseat of his car of all places.

Oh yeah, the spinning bottle had pointed at him and Tommy had dared him to go teach The Freak a lesson.

Steve doubted Tommy would've come up with that if he knew the little game Steve had been playing with Eddie since the beginning of his senior year.

Still, he complied. There was no way he would pass up such an opportunity to go search for Eddie without raising suspicion on them both.

"No, you stay here," he gave Tommy a cocky smile, tuning up his King persona to the ten. "Sending me is already overkill. It'd be a fucking joke if I even need you to take down The Freak."

Steve let the hollers and mocking laughter wash over him, feeling both at home and wrong-footed in the skin he was wearing.

He couldn't wait to get out of there and be as far away from those people as possible, knowing Eddie would make everything right again even just for a night.

The party-goers had been none the wiser when he wandered to the backyard of Tina's house, heading to Eddie's regular dealing corner and told the metalhead to meet him at the quarry where no one would bother them.

One thing led to another, instead of dragging him to the back of the van like usual, Eddie chose his beamer to be their destination of the night.

Given the limited space, their frantic movements slowed down after a while, panting into each other's mouths and melding their tongues together.

And yet, their clothes were still on because they liked to keep up the pretense, liked to deny that they cared.

As if Steve didn't secretly protect Hellfire from the jocks all the time, as if Eddie didn't shush him softly as he cried the other night, shield him from the darkness and call him baby.

It was confusing, the trajectory of their not-friendship; but it was intoxicating, the way they gravitated to each other without fail.

"Why here?" Steve asked, chest heaving up and down as Eddie quickly worked his belt and flies open.

The inside of the beamer's backseat—however spacious it had been before—was now cramped with two grown boys, all muscles and gangly limbs.

And Steve was no cheerleaders, either. He couldn't curl up to make himself as small as those girls. Fortunately, he was flexible enough for Eddie to mold however the metalhead liked, forcing his legs apart with pure teenage brawn.

"Wanna see what's the fuss over the famous Harrington Backseat about," Eddie murmured, licking a stripe on his hand before shoving it down Steve's briefs, stroking him right away without any lube.

Steve hissed at the burning stimulation and the raw friction of those chunky rings, but he was already dripping too much precum to feel uncomfortable with them. If anything, he quite enjoyed it whenever Eddie was a little rough and mean to him.

"Yeah?" Steve bit his lip, aware of those dark eyes following his movements like trackers, sending shivers down his spine. "And what's your opinion so far?"

To be honest, Steve never understood the appeal of having sex in the backseat. The space was never enough for two people to move freely.

He simply did it because it was more convenient that way; less risk of falling off the roofs and windowsills, less time of cleaning up, no need to worry about which ways were better for sneaking out once the deed was done.

Then again, with Eddie looming above him and those calloused fingers enclosed his cock like heated brands, he supposed he finally got it.

"Not as bad as I expected," Eddie mouthed at the column of Steve's throat when he threw his head back in a strangled moan. "Maybe it's because of a certain pretty thing here."

Steve whined and bucked his hips, wanting to fuck into the tight circle of Eddie's palm, but he was pinned in place by Eddie's weight—solid and warm and heavy. It messed with his tipsy brain, making him feel small and helpless, knowing he was entirely at the older boy's mercy.

"So wet already," Eddie kissed his jaw, thumb rubbing Steve's sensitive tip meanly, prompting another breathless moan from him. "Just needing someone to take care of you, hm, little prince?"

Cheeks flaming red, Steve felt his breath hitched, felt his inside loosened up and turned into molasses.

He knew it was just an act to set the mood, but Eddie's honeyed words did weird things to him, causing his heart to stutter and soar higher and higher, reminding him too much of love that it was a little bit scary.

Although Steve couldn't physically melt into the leather seats, he felt like he already did as Eddie played with his cock, pulling embarrassing noises out of him effortlessly, feeding him sweet filths between fervent kisses, gnawing his lips until they swelled up, until they were red and shiny like cherries.

Those sharp teeth trailed down his neck, sinking into the tender flesh and carving their marks on the bronzed skin, leaving bloody bruises behind.

The pain made it real, made Steve feel owned, possessed.

As if he was good enough to be kept, as if he was worth more than a pretty face and a quick fuck.

Steve knew he wasn't thinking rationally, he should be realistic and stop expecting Eddie to reciprocate his hopeless feelings.

He longed for it still, yearned to be touched, to be held by those arms every night, unable to keep himself from daydreaming about the what-ifs.

"Tell me," Eddie wrapped a hand around his throat, never too tight but always enough to turn Steve's head fuzzy. "Who do you belong to?"

The question came out of nowhere, shocking Steve to the core. Because whatever they had between them wasn't like that, was it?

Steve was The King and Eddie was The Freak. Two parallel lines that would never meet.

And yet, they crossed paths. Innumerable times. Rushing into each other like moths to the flame, knowing they would burn and explode, knowing they would ignite and crash like shooting stars.

Transient.

Beautiful.

But Steve refused to let them be a tragedy as long as he could help it. Refused to hide behind the forsaken fortress he had built up for years.

Because Eddie deserved better, and all Steve could offer was himself.

"Y– Yours," he mumbled, eyes half-lidded as if he was drunk. "'M yours, D– Daddy."

Eddie's gaze was dark and heavy on him, bottomless and ravenous as they drank in his debauched state; disheveled hair, flushed skin, teary eyes, swollen red lips, redder cock drooling over the white cotton and thick denim.

For a second, Steve was afraid he had ruined it, had exposed himself too much with that slipup, but Eddie didn't even pause, he just grinned wildly, looking unhinged as he made his demand.

"Again."

"'M yours, Daddy," Steve babbled, losing his mind over the encroaching orgasm, curling his toes and arching his back off the seat as he reached the peak. "Yours."

Without preamble, Eddie spat into his gaping mouth and Steve's eyes just rolled back as he shot off, dirtying his jeans and shirt as well as Eddie's hand.

Eddie kissed him—for no other reason than to eat his whimpers right from his mouth—humming and moaning as if tasting ambrosia, not just saliva and the lingering sweetness of cocktails Steve had religiously knocked back during the party.

What came next was the belt's clacking noises. It sounded distant to him, like his brain couldn't catch up with his surroundings anymore.

But Steve was a man of habit. So it was no surprise when moments later, he blinked back to reality and found himself sucking the head of Eddie's cock, tonguing the slit and tasting bitter musk as Eddie groaned and gave a few quick strokes before coming into his mouth.

Greedily, Steve swallowed everything, licking and drinking until Eddie grabbed his hair harshly to stop him.

He was still quite dazed as Eddie cleaned him up, as Eddie redressed him, as Eddie guided him to the van and bundled him in a soft quilt that smelled like weed and smoke and drugstore soap.

The quilt was his comfort blanket, which Eddie never questioned him about, just always happened to have it around whenever Steve needed it.

And somehow, that was the first reason Steve fell for him.

Shaking his head to the joint Eddie offered, Steve leaned on the metal wall of the van and sipped slowly from the bottle of water he had been handed, basking in the peaceful silence that he rarely had for himself these days.

Then, he shifted his gaze to Eddie, meeting those intense eyes, and set the bottle down beside him.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Eddie tilted his head, as if curious, as if wanting to observe him more clearly.

"Everything," Steve shrugged and toyed with the hem of the quilt, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I mean, I was and still am an ass to you. But you always treat me with kindness, and well, make me feel like a real person, not just some– some puppets mindlessly dancing to the music. And I'm glad that I had accepted your offer that day."

"Don't sell yourself so short, Harrington," Eddie snorted, turning his face away briefly to blow out the smoke before looking back at him. "I get it. You have more things to lose than I do so 'course you gotta put on some acts to ward off your nosy subjects. Besides, it's not like I don't benefit from our transaction, or I'm a Saint, either. But it doesn't matter, does it? You and I, we both got something out of this. And that's enough for me."

Steve felt his stomach drop. So that was just a moment of heat, then. He was the idiot to believe it had been real.

And Eddie had said all of that so bluntly, leaving him no delusions to think there was something more between them.

"Okay," he said dully, pulling the quilt tighter around himself to keep the sudden coldness away.

"Fuck," Eddie cursed under his breath and snuffed out the joint in the ashtray nearby before moving closer to him. "Stevie, sweetheart, please look at me."

He had half a mind to ignore the older boy, but his gaze could never not be drawn to Eddie. It was as easy as breathing, a natural thing that had been written into his DNA.

"What?" He looked up, allowing some irritation to seep into his voice.

"I'm not good at this, Jesus Christ," Eddie muttered, fingers carding through frizzy hair and pulling a curl to chew on it anxiously, big brown eyes honed on him. "I'm gonna be honest with you here, Stevie. I never thought I'd have a chance with you, let alone kiss or touch you. But then I did and that's already crazy, you know? 'Cause we're not even friends who greet each other in the hallways like real people. We're just what? Strangers with benefits? Fuck-acquaintances? And don't forget that you had to lie to your friends to sneak out to see me. That they're still thinking you're beating me up right now."

Which was sadly true.

Steve could see why Eddie was so reluctant to get close to him. There were too many problems between them, and they were complicated enough to give Steve a headache.

Then again, he still wanted to try. Because Eddie was the only one who really looked beneath all of those layers to see him. Which was already much more than what other people (including his parents) had done for Steve.

As if reading his mind, Eddie chuckled wryly.

"And you know what's funny?"

"What?"

"That no matter how hard I tried, I still can't get you out of my mind."

Steve inhaled sharply.

"Yeah," Eddie smiled self-deprecatingly, one hand coming up to brush the bruises on the side of Steve's neck. "And the thing is I don't like to share. I'm a possessive motherfucker, sweetheart. Once I'm obsessed with something, I'm gonna keep it and take good care of it."

Eddie sounded insane even to Steve's muddled brain, and that was saying something. Still, he only found himself enraptured by it, deaf to the siren blaring in his head.

"But you're too pretty to be hidden away, sunshine," long fingers moved up to tuck a hair behind Steve's ear, sliding down the curve of it to trace the line of his jaw and his cheekbones, drawing constellations on his skin. "You should be put on the altar, put on the display to show people how gorgeous you are. Let them covet, let them beg for a glimpse of your beauty."

Steve's eyes fluttered shut as those fingers enveloped his throat again, squeezing just right to make his head go silent.

"And I'd be there," Eddie murmured in his ear, making the heat travel down his navel. "Befoul you with my devotion, and brand you with my name. And they'd be so jealous of me, 'cause the angel they worship is already mine."

Steve groaned, growing hard again at the vision Eddie conjured up in his mind. He felt dizzy, floaty, and tender. He wanted to live in this precious moment forever.

"Still wanna be my boy, sweet thing?" Eddie nuzzled his cheek. "When you know how crazy I am?"

"Keep me," Steve whispered, swaying into the only source of warmth that he knew of. "Don't let me go."

When I've got you, baby was pressed on his lips, when those arms caught him and tugged him close, embraced him with promises of love and protection; Steve knew he was finally home.

If the following day, he pissed Tommy and probably most of the jocks off by sticking up to The Freak, then well, Hellfire was ready to extend an olive branch to the former king of Hawkins High.

Because who was they to not welcome their DM's beloved prince?

And some years down the road, when Steve became a primary teacher and Eddie opened up a garage, when they bought a house and settled down together, they would tell their children that they used to be high school sweethearts.

And it wouldn't be a lie.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smutty september #sionewritesatmidnight

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