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channieskies · 1 month ago

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𝓇𝑒𝓋𝓊𝑒

🔺Pairing: Chris/Bang Chan x FEM!|Reader 🔺Summary: Finding yourself as a bridesmaid once again, you're dragged along to a male review where each dancer is just as charming as the next. But what happens when you're trapped in the main events' magnetizing spell? 🔺WC: 14,600+ {40-60 min reading time} 🔺AU: Stripper AU, Bridesmaid Au 🔺Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol AU 🔺Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society 🔺Warning(s)⚠️: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], dom and sub undertones, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), choking, slight exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), light spanking, mentions of self hate, mentions of cheating. (please let me know if I missed any) 🔺Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction. 🔺Authors note: Hi! This has been a story in the making for over a yeah now. I wrote and intended to publish this back in Oct 2023, but I never finished it. With new found inspiration, I found myself able to finally push through and publish this. I hope you enjoy this (old ass) story! Special thanks to @therhythmafterthesummer &@bunnliix for beta'ing this for me. I really appreciate it!!

Once a bridesmaid, always a bridesmaid. This was your third wedding this year. Meaning, it was soon to be your third unflattering dress. Your third time smiling uncomfortably in pictures. This would probably be your third time getting stuck dancing with the handsy uncle who always smelled like aqua velva and cheap liquor. You conclusively loathe attending weddings, but absolutely loved and adored your friends. So when asked for the third time this year to be a bridesmaid, of course, you agreed. Because, what else are friends for?

A party bus full of late twenties and early thirty somethings, pre-gaming after pre-gaming, sounded like a setup for a god-awful lifetime movie. One where the bride gives some lucky stranger her goods after the bachelorette party and before the wedding. But you hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Imogen had been planning this wedding for four years now, and it was finally coming to fruition. She was the type to never let anything get in her way, and that included herself.

“I’m going to slide down that man and ride him till he calls me mama!” You chuckled as your friend struggled on the pole pushing her party city veil out of her face. “He won’t see it coming. He has no idea what kind of freak he's about to call his wife.” She’d been abstinent since her last relationship, so naturally, her and her fiance were celibate. That meant neither of them had dusted off the cobwebs in over four years. Couldn’t be you, but if she liked it, you loved it for her.

But you guessed forced celibacy was just as bad as actually vowing to not have sex. You were in a no-man’s-land. Pussy drier than the sonoran desert. Truthfully, if anyone did touch you, you were sure an actual cloud of dust would puff out of your cunt. It was terrible, really. Your last relationship ended with him cheating, after wholly decimating your confidence. Making your answer to ‘But He’s a photographer, he sees pretty, skinny girls all the time. What would stop him from cheating on you?’ totally irrelevant.

You caught them in your bed, on your Egyptian cotton sheets. Three hundred thread count sheets that you let him keep, since you knew you couldn’t wash the filth out of them. To make matters worse, she was much younger -barely legal-, and half your size. It was just your luck that her billboards were posted all over town. A fucking model. Yeah, that was a never ending cycle of self-denigrating that you had to unpack with your therapist. You swore up and down you'd never let it happen again.

But you were better now. Well, at least you hated yourself less. It took some time, a LOT of therapy, and the help of loved ones letting you know you were loved. Plus you have learned how to love and take care of yourself better. You’d given that man all of you and expected nothing of him and you know what they say about expectations right? Keep them low and you’ll never be disappointed. Bullshit. Even if you don’t have any, expect to be disappointed.

The bus rolled to a stop. The neon lights wrapped the building and entrance. Large posters of scantily dressed, well-oiled men stood stories tall. Big burly guards stood out front of the entrance, you guessed, to drag any woman who got too handsy with the dancers, out and off the premises. You all piled off the bus, bride and her maid of honor first. All of you, except the bride in her tight white dress, were in an array of green.

Your dress was a dark emerald color. The satin dress hugged your body just right, hitting you mid-thigh, with ruching around the stomach to hide anything you didn’t want to show. Like your tummy. You stood back, not too excited to see sweaty men gyrating in your face. But your thoroughly plastered friends would beg to differ. “Party for Standfield.”

One of the guards checked his tablet and nodded. He talked into his earpiece and opened the velvet rope. “Your host will meet you inside. Enjoy your stay at Taste, Male Revue.” He gave a knowing smile as your group sauntered past him and into the red glow of the front door. You were blasted by air as you entered. Rosemary and bergamot invade your senses almost immediately.

“It smells like a man in here.” One of your friends noted as she swooned.

“Acqua Di Giò, it was what my ex used to wear to be exact.” You were perturbed. You wanted to have fun tonight, let down your hair. Not be reminded of the insufferable douche you thought was the one.

“Great nose you have there ma’am.” You jumped as you were greeted by the host. He smiled. His features made him look like a fox, he was absolutely adorable. He looked way too young to be associated with a den of sin. What was he doing here? “We pump the fragrance into our system, it’s one of the owners favorites.” He nodded and bowed, greeting your party officially. “Welcome to Taste, male revue. I am your host for the night, Ian.”

You squinted at his name tag that clearly had the letters ‘i’ and ‘n’ written on it. You wanted to speak up about it, but when you looked around at your friends you realized it wasn’t worth the concern. “We have set up the v.i.p lounge for your party. Your bartender is starting on your first round of drinks as we speak. Your food will be served after the first hour of performances. Any booked solo time will be conducted after dinner and dessert. Please make sure to reserve your favorite dancer for any solo time before the conclusion of dessert.” He nodded, giving you all a once over, as if counting the party.

“It seems everyone is accounted for. Please follow me so we can kick this night off.” The main club area was a huge space with white tables and chairs that contrasted with the black carpet flooring. The stage was black, but shiny, making it a smooth surface for the dancers to glide over. The main stage area was packed. An oiled up dancer was grinding on some pretty blonde girl while she giggled.

"Must be nice.." you mumbled under your breath as you watched her get flipped upside down, her barely clothed vagina now in the dancer's face, her face in his crotch. The scene disappeared from view as you were ushered into the v.i.p area. Over the door it read "The Chapel", The tall frosted glass door looked like it had been hit with a blast chiller. I.N led the group past the doors, an odd but pleasant smile on his face. The floors were still black, but everything else was white and silver. Light lines the floor to help people navigate the darkness.

By the looks of the room the theme had to have something to do with ice. There was a bar that was made from glass that was back-lit with blue and white lights to give the illusion of frost. The ceiling was mirrored and also lined with lights around the perimeter. "Dibs on the seat next to Imogen!" Your friends clamored as they practically raced to the front near the stage. There was a chair sitting directly in front of the stage, a sash with the silvery letter of "bride" written on it.

"You want to sit next to me, Y/n?" Imogen asked as she grabbed your hand. The two of you had been friends for so long that she could tell when something wasn't completely right with you. She squeezed your hand to get you to look at her. "If you feel even a little uncomfortable here, let me know, okay?" She smiled and you reciprocated.

"I'm fine Imogen. Plus, this night is about you. One last night of free looks before you're tied to Jerry from accounting forever." She laughed.

"That doesn't mean I don't want my girls to enjoy the night too. Honestly that's what I want the most out of it. So, sit next to me. Okay? Allana said the guys here are extremely hot" You hesitantly nodded. There was no way you would have picked a seat that close for yourself, but this was about what she wanted. So, naturally you would agree.

His days never started before noon. Anything before two pm was entirely too early for him. Days always shifted into night and then into the wee hours of the morning. So sleeping until the sun was high in the sky was a must for him.

Chris reached out to the other side of his bed, feeling the cool sheets against his hands. It had been a while since someone occupied that side, his last relationship ended over a year ago. But they were still close friends, since it ended amicably.

He groaned, forcing himself to roll over and swing his legs off the side of the bed. His hair was messy, curls pointing in different directions, face and lips a little swollen from activities the night before. Also known as late night ramen with his best friend, Changbin. His phone buzzed on the night table, alerting him that it was time to wake up. "I know, I know." He groaned, shutting it off.

He eventually forced himself to leave the comforts of his bed and padded to the bathroom right outside his room. After showering and grooming, he made breakfast for him and his roommates, as well as pre-workout shakes. The three of them headed off to the gym a few blocks away from their apartment, together. He loved the atmosphere there. People were kind and supportive and it was never too crowded. He put on his playlist and zoned out.

After a good shower and lunch, he and his friends headed to work. You'd think after coming home so late at night they wouldn't be ready to go back. But they loved their job. It was fun to interact with people and dance. Getting to see the smiles on clients' faces made everything worthwhile. Plus it didn't hurt that he had some of the highest requests. Becoming so well known that he had danced at parties for some elite celebrity clientele. He couldn't tell you who though, he signed a n.d.a for that very reason.

"Alright, A team, we have a bachelorette party coming up tonight. They requested all six of team A. The maid of honor said and I quote, 'Give us all of them. We all like something different.' So, be ready for a wild night and a lot of bookings." Jeongin, the club manager and host stated. Bachelorette parties were always a mixed bag. It could either be a group of tame women who let go when they got a few drinks in the system. Or wild women who got even wilder after a few drinks. Or it could be the ones who ended up with their photos posted in the hall of shame. Those were the ones no one could let back in because they caused so much of a ruckus.

A year and a half ago, Chris had an encounter with a hall of shame inductee. She thought it would be a good idea to sneak backstage and hide in his dressing room. He was taking off his make-up when she popped out from behind his clothes rack completely naked. Telling him how she saw how he looked at her and that she knew she was just his type. He tried to talk her down, but no wasn’t in her vocabulary. It took two guards and Jeongin to pull her off him. She scratched his arm up so bad that even when it healed he had to get a tattoo to cover it.

But thankfully, hall of shamers were a rare occurrence. "Chan, they asked you to be the headliner for the night. Maid of honor says you're just the bride's type. So make sure to work your magic on the bride to be." He nodded. Once their briefing was over he headed to the dressing room to get ready for the night.

"Did you see the pictures of the bridesmaids?" Changbin asked as he caught up with him in the hall. "I wonder how many are single. Because the bride has some gorgeous friends." He showed him the folder with their pictures in it, just a few random girls on top. Folders were usually provided for parties that might be willing to spend a little extra to get "special" treatment. Not all the dancers participated, but they had rooms past the party lounge, just for extra services. Changbin frequented the rooms, especially if he found a party goer that really caught his eye.

Chan used the rooms at first. But he felt cheap everytime he saw the extra money on his check. It felt like he lost a part of himself each time he did it. So, eventually he just stopped. The owner understood, telling him that he didn’t need to force himself. He didn’t look back and had no desire to.

The hours had quickly passed him by. It was nearly showtime. The guys could see the bridal party shuffling in, taking their seats. A few of them battling over the two open seats next to the bride. The bride was off to the side talking to another woman he couldn't see, before she dragged her along to one of the seats next to her. The house lights dimmed just as the woman was about to step into view, so he didn't see her face. "Alright guys, it's showtime." He spoke to the room. He pat Minho's back, since he was the first one up. Minho simply smirked as he headed out of their waiting room and to the curtain for countdown.

A few of Imogen's sorority sisters were giving you death glares. She chose you and her maid of honor, her sister Allana, to sit at her sides. The rest were situated in comfortable white arm chairs. Drinks had been served, not that the ladies in this party needed any more to drink. They were already inebriated. Minus you, also known as pedestrian Pattie, because of your one drink policy. The lights on the stage slowly brightened, revealing the host from earlier in the center of the stage. His outfit had changed completely. The suit he wore before was traded in for a black mesh shirt with a cassock. A matching black stole with silver and white crosses on it. Dress pants and boots. He was a priest, and this was his chapel.

"I hope you ladies are ready to get on your knees... and pray." A few of your friends screamed, exhibiting just how ready they were. "The temptations will be high tonight, let's see if you can survive it and join me on the other side. I hope our first performer can tempt you to let go of your inhibitions and pull you to the dark side." He moved from the center off to the side, "Anyone need their pipes cleaned? Welcome to the stage, Lee Know."

Thirsty by Taemin started to flow through the speakers. You could hear the little water droplets at the beginning of the song. From the line I.N threw out about cleaning pipes and the water drops, you knew exactly what the theme would be. Plumber. As the lights focused on the performer, you noticed how handsome he looked. Worn jeans with rips in them. Working boots and tool belt. Long hair that covered his eyes added to his mysterious charm. He wore a white tank top and his arms were so well oiled you could almost see your reflection.

Was this what male revues were like? He slid to the end of the stage, right in front of you and Imogen. Your eyes were wide, hands unconsciously moving to cover your chest. He ripped the shirt, but not completely. He left a little of it to cover some of his abs. He reached a hand down slowly as he thrusted, practiced fingers making quick work of his button and zipper. His body rolls were immaculate. You swallowed hard and he noticed, winking his eye in your direction. A girl behind you squealed thinking it was meant for her, but his eye contact told you differently. He smirked and stood, jumping down right in front of Imogen. He grabbed her hand trailing it down his torso to where his pants were undone.

Her mouth dropped as she blushed furiously. She shook her head profusely, adamant about not even touching a man that wasn't her fiancé. He smiled, and it was one of the most dazzling things you had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. His eyes landed on you and you stiffened. He smirked again, clearly sensing your hesitancy. He moved to the girl who screamed for him earlier and by all that was holy you were glad it wasn't you. If he fucked anything like he danced, some lucky someone was definitely walking out if here pregnant tonight.

He had somehow removed his jeans without taking off his boots, a feat in itself. You had no idea where he pulled a water bottle from, but his ripped shirt and tight boxer briefs were soaked. The way his body moved, his thick thighs, the devilish smile he wore, all of it was heart attack inducing. No wonder they called this room the chapel, it was aptly named. You were certainly in need of prayer after witnessing him work his magic. From him picking her up to bounce her on her like he was fucking her while standing. To him putting her down and grinding into her rear. This first dance was surely an eye opening experience.

Once the song ended, I.N made his way back to the stage, sly smirk on his face. "You've been blessed by Lee Know. But are you ready for the next performer? Or do you ladies need some holy water?" He eyed the crowd. "It seems like you're in the mood for something sweet after quenching your thirst. Anyone like….. peaches?" He moved to exit the stage again. "Welcome to the stage, Lix."

The names seemed to get stranger as time went by, first an Ian that was spelled I.N. Then Lee Know, who clearly knew a lot, judging by how his body moved. Now a Lix? Was he going to show tongue tricks? The room filled with fog, the lights fading from white to peach as Kai's Peaches started to flow through the speakers. You excused yourself, letting Imogen know you were taking a break. You headed past the bar, making eye contact with the bartender, who tipped his head at you. You returned the gesture with a smile before smacking dead into a hard chest.

"Oh- sorry." Hands flew to your waist as an assurance that you wouldn't fall. You let your eyes travel to the man in front of you. He had on black boots, slacks, and a black tank tucked into them. A sleeve of tattoos that you glanced over, but couldn't help but immediately noticed the snarling wolf on his hand, while brushing your eyes quickly over the rest. He had a stud in his beautifully large nose, messy smokey eyeshadow. His hair was styled in an unkempt way, but it looked attractive on him.

"It's my fault, I should have been looking where I was going." The accent threw you through a loop. He let you go, taking a step back. "Are you with the bridal party?" He nodded towards the small crowd who were cheering for Lix. It was now the hallway guy’s turn to give you the once over and truth be told you had to press your thighs together at how his eyes lingered on your lower half as he bit on his bottom lip.

"If they continue like this, yes. But if they somehow cause trouble while I'm away… I've never met those people in my life." Your little joke caused him to laugh, putting his pretty smile and dimples on display.

"Are you enjoying the show?" His brow rose as he leaned against the wall. It was almost as if he had all the time in the world to chat you up in this corridor.

"Yeah. I mean, this is my first time at a male revue, so it's a little different. Takes a little time getting used to seeing male bodies gyrating in your face." You looked back at Lix who now had one of Imogen's sorority sisters grinding on his lap. You quickly looked away and back at the confidently relaxed man in front of you.

"As opposed to a female, I'm guessing?" His voice seemed to deepen with his question.

You hummed, "I've been to a few strip clubs. My close friend invited me to his bachelor party a few months ago, and I've been back a few times since then. But Allana, the maid of honor, she's been here a couple of times, so she decided to book this for her sister." He nodded slowly, taking in your words.

"But are you enjoying it?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I mean.. it's different." You chuckled, "It has its charms. The dancers so far have been different from the last, so that's good."

"So, I take it you haven't found a dancer you like yet, is what you're saying." He had this smug look on his face as he said it.

"I liked the first guy, he was cool."

He hummed, nodding to himself. "Cool, huh?" He smirked, "Okay. So, what can be done to make this a good experience for you?" You tilted your head as you looked at him. Why was he asking you this? This was a night for Imogen to enjoy, you were just here in support.

"For me?" You purse your lips in thought, softly humming. "As long as Imogen- well, the bride to be is happy, so am I." He shook his head, not liking how you answered for your friend and not for yourself.

"Taste is an experience for all of his patrons, brides, bridesmaids, and whoever else comes in here. So, I'll ask again.” He plastered on the most charming, panty melting smile he could manage. Dimples on full display. “What can be done to make this a good experience for you?" He leaned in towards you, your faces a mere breath away from the other as he looked you square in the eyes. “What would have you coming back for more?”

"It would be nice to see someone get flipped around, I guess." You shrugged. He asked, so you threw it out there. “I saw someone getting thrown around on the mainstage as we made our way back here. They were practically sixty-nining on stage. That was pretty cool.”

"See someone get flipped around, yeah?" he nodded as he leaned back to his original spot against the wall. "Not willing to be the one getting flipped?" You laughed unexpectedly, taking both you and him by surprise. You cleared your throat as a way to cover up the abrupt chortle.

"Do you have Hercules or Captain America back there or something?" You nodded to the door that had a small 'restricted access' sign on it.

He shook his head. "No. But I -" You cut him off again, this time with a piteous sigh and a shake of your head.

"Do you see all of me or is your vision half off like the happy hour drinks?” You clasped your hands together as you tried to find the words to explain how insane he sounded. “It's cute that you want to try, it really is. But, sweetie, you'll throw your back out trying to flip me around." You moved next to him and pointed towards your group," You have all of them to choose from. Pick one that you can handle." You pat his shoulder. "Break a leg." You left him there stunned.

You quickly made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. That man was hot, absolutely everything about him was attractive. His accent, his eyes, lips, nose, dimples, tattoos, the way he stood there, that ass that you noticed as you passed by him, every single last thing. Too bad he had delusions of grandeur for thinking he could handle a woman like you.

Chan had a routine and for the most part he stuck to it. He'd put on the bottom part of his stage outfit, do his hair and makeup, then scope the crowd for whomever his victim would be for the night. The poor unsuspecting soul would never see it coming, until he was in their face seducing him.

He usually watched the crowd, to see how they reacted to the dancers before him. He noticed a few of the women in the party were down for anything. That could be fun, but they usually ended up wanting more than just a private dance. A few were reserved, only dancing a tiny bit in their chairs to the music.

Then there was you. The one who looked in awe of everything that was happening, like this was a totally foreign concept to you. Like you were having your male stripper cherry popped, so to speak. As if this was an eye opening experience. He eyed your expressions before his eyes traveled down your body. Every last inch that he could see of you was stunning. As if he didn't already have you as his pick for the night, you pulled him even more with your radiating beauty.

Plus it helped to see that you were clearly on edge. The way you kept shifting in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs let him know you were aroused by the show. He could make good use of this information. He was told to go for the bride, since he was her type.

But by the way she was redirecting dancers to her friends, knowing exactly who would be the best candidate for each dancer, says she is loyal and might be the best wingwoman in town. He needed to make good on his promise to approach her first, and hopefully she would direct him right to you.

Bumping into you was purely coincidental. He usually didn't make contact with his person for the night until he locked eyes with them on stage, he liked for things to seem organic. But talking to you only made the fire inside of him grow hotter. He was desperate to prove you wrong. To show you that he just simply needed to be Chris to flip you around or do whatever else it is you fancied.

You were confident, he'd give you that. You knew what you wanted. He liked that. But what he didn't like was you dismissing him like that. Hercules? Captain America? It absolutely boggled his mind that you thought you were incapable of receiving what that girl on the main stage received just because you had a few more curves. He settled at the bar and nodded to the bartender. He always took a ceremonial shot before his stage, tonight would be no different.

"What's on your mind?" Seungmin asked as he placed the empty shot glass in front of Chan. "Because I can see you overthinking from here." He poured the top shelf tequila into his glass then slid it closer.

"The woman who passed by here not too long ago, did you get a good look at her?" He really didn't know why he was asking, it was like Seungmin had photographic memory, he could probably tell him what time you passed by and everything.

"I did. Why?" He narrowed his eyes, "Don't tell me you're going back on your rule." Chan took the shot, shaking his head as the liquid burned down his throat.

"No. I just.." He sighed as he slid the shot glass back across the bar. "Do you think I'm strong enough to you know… flip her? Because she has me second guessing myself."

"Possibly." Seungmin shrugged. "You know Changbin hyung is the better candidate to answer that question." When he didn't say anything further, he knew he was done with the conversation.

"Thanks, Seungmin." The bartender nodded, getting back to making another round of drinks for the party goers.

Chan headed back backstage, passing you again as you exited the bathroom and headed to the bar. You didn’t even spare him a glance, sending him even further into the abyss that was self doubt.

Chan found Changbin in his dressing room, exercising before his set. "Bin. Question." Chan flopped on the couch, not too far away from his friend. "You scoped all of the bridal party, right?"

Changbin grunted and stopped his bicep curls. "You know I did. Gotta pick my person for the night." He grabbed a weight to do bicep curls, he had to make sure his muscles looked good under the lights. "Why? What's up? You look a little worried."

Chan was chewing on his lip nervously, not even realizing he was a bit frazzled by her comments. "There is this girl -" He stopped mid-sentence as Changbin nearly dropped his weight.

"A girl- wait- seriously?" He carefully put his weight down so he didn't accidentally injure himself with any more news. "You plan on… you know.. Going back on your rule?"

"No- why do people keep asking me that?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Where is the folder?" Changbin nodded towards the makeup table. Chan grabbed the folder and skimmed through the photos until he found yours. "Her." He gave his friend the photo, you didn’t have many full body pictures, so Allana provided them with the best one she possibly could. "Do you think it would be possible for me to flip her?" Changbin eyed the picture for what seemed like forever.

"Yeah. I think you can do it. Why are you asking this suddenly? This isn't like you." He slid the picture back into the folder.

"She said I couldn't."

"You felt challenged, huh?" Changbin laughed.

"I- I did and I don't normally let things like that get to me. But- I felt like she dismissed the thought before she'd even seen me work. She told me I'd throw my back out trying to flip her. Then told me to 'break a leg.'" He mocked your tone while rolling his eyes.

Changbin laughed so hard he doubled over, clutching his stomach from the pain of it.

"It's not funny!" Chan usually had unwavering confidence when it came to stage presence, for him to be shaking in his boots over one little comment was the highlight of Changbin's day.

"You're right, it's not funny. It's hilarious. I like this girl. She managed to shake the unshakable Bang Chan.” He smirked and Chris groaned. “But seriously bro, just prove her wrong. Pull her on stage, seduce her, then flip her. Simple."

"But I'm supposed to go after the bride." Chan protested, his face somewhere in between a scowl and a pout.

"Forget that. Minho already said she's denying dances for herself. So go after the friend." He picked his weight back up. "Now get out so I can get ready. I can hear Hyunjin's music playing and I'm up next."

Chan nodded and took his leave. Taking everything his friend said into account. He was going to win her over. He was going to give her exactly what she wished for and a little more.

Bored. That's exactly what you were at the moment. You didn't want anyone to take it the wrong way, these men were talented, there was no doubt in that. They were also too pretty to be real. Like somehow they were all AI generated. You flashed a smile at the unbelievably pretty man on stage as he made eye contact with you. His flowing black locks were mostly pulled into a ponytail, showing off his alarmingly beautiful face.

You figured his theme was that of a prince and honestly, he fit the bill. Regal looking from head to toe. You sipped your drink as he rolled his surprisingly toned body. You appreciated the view even if your usual type was a little bit beefier. You preferred a man that could pick you up, toss you around a little bit. And truth be told, you looked like you could break him just by looking at him. Him, the cute chubby cheeked boy before him and the small fairy-like blonde named Lix. At least the first guy, Lee Know, looked like he'd put up a fight. His thighs at least made him look sturdy. Plus he looked like he might be into a little pain, and you liked that.

You weren't even going to think about the cocky guy from the hallway. Sure, he had nice shoulders and an even nicer ass. But the mere thought that he thought he could flip you was laughable. He didn't look strong enough to flip a table to be honest. You were too caught in your own thoughts to notice that the prince had vacated the stage and I.N. was announcing the next performer. It wasn't until the lights changed from the pretty, calming, pale blue, to the fiery red that consumed the whole room. Alarm bells rung, pulling everyone's attention to the stage. Smoke snaked its way from behind the large white panel that covered the expanse of the back of the stage, giving a hazy feel to the room. “What's my name?”

A few of the ladies must have been paying attention to I.n. seeing that they replied with a roaring “Changbin!”. That included Allana, who wasn't sitting not too far away from you. His voice was gruff, sexy. Your eyes hadn't moved from the stage since the atmosphere changed. His silhouette was the first thing you saw of him. This thick, muscular man. Everything from head to toe looked sturdy and well crafted. You sat up, gripping the armrests of your chair. A smooth r&b track flowed through the speakers as he sauntered out. A fireman. His pants sat low, suspenders keeping them in Place. His Coat was slung over his shoulders, his hat pulled down over his eyes. This man was sexy.

He tossed his coat out into the crowd. He literally fanned the flames of tension between two girls as they started fighting over it, both tugging on the yellow fireman's cloth. What was this effect he seemed to have on all the women, that included you. He held eye contact with Imogen with every step he took off stage. You could see the faint blush on her cheeks as he got closer and closer.

Even he seemed to have a pull on her and that alone spoke volumes. He straddled her legs and grabbed her hand putting it right between his peck before making them dance. She covered her face with her free hand, giggling like some adolescent schoolgirl. You'd only seen her like this a few times in college, but this had to be a first, at least since she'd met her fiancé. He slid her hand down his oiled torso as he body rolled. She was as red as a tomato and you were just as or even more green with envy.

She'd been adamant all night about keeping her hands to herself, what changed? You sighed, deciding to push your jealousy to the side. You took the final sip of your drink. Opting to let the cool liquid calm your nerves. He stepped back, and grabbed Imogen's hand, pulling her to the stage. Maybe she'd had one too many drinks and forgotten the strict rules she had set for herself? Either way, this was her party, something to celebrate her and her upcoming marriage, so you had no ground to stand on when it came to being upset.

But it did look fun. The smile on her face and blush on her cheeks said it all. He picked her up and carried her to stage, all while she covered her face out of sheer embarrassment. Some girls really had all the luck.

Nerves. They weren't something he was used to dealing with before a show and any he did feel would be washed away by the shot he took beforehand. Not today. Chris was beyond just nervous, he was two seconds away from having a full blown panic attack and it was all because of you. You and your words. He knew better than anyone just what he was capable of, but you had him second guessing himself at every turn. Turning to others for advice and reassurance, which was very unlike him.

He looked out at the crowd while Changbin did his thing, taking one for the team and seducing the bride to be, so Chris could have a little more of an opportunity to try and get to you. He eyed your expressions, your movements. Noticed the slight grimace on your face as you looked on at your friend and Changbin with what looked like jealousy. “Ah, so that's your type.” He couldn't help the little smirk that formed on his lips. He and Changbin were gym buddies and even though they had very different body types, they still did the same things when working out. He had this in the bag.

Chan usually fluffed his cock before a show. Though he looked pretty decent without it, fluffing before he went on stage ensured he looked just as above average as he was. He went back into his dressing room to finish getting ready. He took his usual routine, pulling up a video, locking the door so he wouldn't be interrupted. He landed on a video he liked and started to stroke himself. But his cock seemed uninterested in something that had gotten him off time and time again. To say he was frustrated, would be the understatement of his lifetime. You insinuating that he couldn't handle you kept flashing in his head in big, red, neon letters.

What is the off chance that you were right? That he really couldn't handle you. That he'd make a fool of himself and you in the process? What if he dropped you? He'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd never be able to show his face here or anywhere for that matter. What if this followed him for the rest of his life. Like somehow everyone knew he dropped a girl who told him he couldn't handle her. He groaned loudly, so loud he almost missed the knock on his door. “Five minutes.” He sighed. There was no use, his dick was disheartened. He tucked himself back into his boxers and pants and threw on the rest of his outfit.

He did a self check. Breath. Minty fresh. Outfit. Every detail in place. Makeup. Subtle, mostly just a tinted moisturizer and an alluring smoky eye. Hair, straightened and pushed up and back out of his face. He nodded to himself in the mirror. “You got this.” He hit his chest a few times to really pump himself up before heading out towards the stage. It was almost as if everything went mute. He couldn't hear the crowd screaming Changbin's name, practically begging for an encore.

He couldn't hear I.N. trying his best to calm them down so he could announce Chris as the next performer. He couldn't hear the stage hand telling him to wait. He snapped out of it as the young woman touched his chest. “Are you even listening? I.N hasn't announced your name yet.” she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by him at the moment.

“I'm so sorry. You know what it's like when I'm in the zone.” He gave her an apologetic look. She sighed and nodded, deciding to let things go. Chris tried his best not to look out at the crowd, he didn't need anything knocking the confidence he'd built up. But he couldn't help himself. He peeked out, finding you and your friends fanning yourselves while giggling. Probably still giddy about Changbin's performance. He couldn't understand why, but that gave him a little confidence boost.

While Changbin was a wonderful performer, Chris was in the top stop for a reason. He couldn't wait to shock the crowd with the routine he had planned. “You ladies have been very naughty tonight. You know that? Now that the flames have been put out, I think it's time we arrest the culprit behind it all. Don't you-” Sirens filled the room again, but this time it was police Sirens. “Oh no, the cops are coming. Is that…” I.N. pretended to look off in the distance as if this was a totally believable bit. His dedication to the scene was impeccable. “It's officer Bang. Be careful ladies, I've heard he's a very bad boy with a badge. I hope you all are ready to submit or be charged.”

The stage hand nodded and Chris finally walked out on stage. With one hand on his belt, the other twirling the cuffs, he walked out to the middle of the stage and stopped. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked over the crowd. He made it to the end of the stage and pointed at a still flustered Imogen. She covered her face and shook her head.

Changbin had clearly done some work on her, if she was back to refusing dances. She glanced from her sister to her best friend as if she was contemplating which one to pick, between the two. She grabbed your hand lifting it into the air, declaring you the winner of the lap dance from officer Bang. Much to his delight and your chagrin.

He extended a hand towards you, a slick smile on his face, while you visibly panicked. “Go, Y/n. Have fun. For me, yeah?” It was like she said magic words. You closed your eyes and sighed. It was for Imogen. That is the reason you relented. At least that's what you tried to tell yourself. You took his hand and he held it until you made your way up the tiny staircase to the stage.

“Before we get started, do I have your consent to do what I need for entertainment purposes?” Your eyes scanned his face before darting to Imogen who nodded profusely.

You sighed again, shoulders falling slightly in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.” You waved him off just for him to catch your wrist, slapping the cuff around it.

“Then, you're under arrest.”

“What's the charge officer?” One of the ladies yelled from the back. She was a lawyer, so this was probably very familiar for her.

“Underestimating me.” He once again invaded your space, his face dangerously close to your own. You could smell the fresh mint toothpaste on his breath. “You're guilty, until I prove you wrong.” You were so distracted by the alluring look in his eyes that you didn't feel him grab and cuff your other hand until you heard the faint click. “Play my music.” He yelled back at the dj. You felt this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Was this man about to do what you knew he couldn't?

He bent you over, with your cuffed hands placed on the back of a chair that you hadn't realized had been put on stage. “I can't take you in until I frisk you. So spread those legs for me.” You did as told, spreading your legs a little, feeling your dress ride up the backs of your thighs and settling right in the undercuff of your booty.

You tried not to be self conscious about slightly exposing yourself to not only your friends but a bunch of strangers in the process. You felt the warmth of his hand on the small of your back as he pushed it down ever so lightly, making you arch. The fabric covering your ass was hanging on by a thin thread.

You could have sworn you heard him curse behind you as he rubbed your sides softly. “You aren't hiding anything, are you?” You couldn't see his face, but he was trying his best to continue playing his role. The way your curves looked in this dress was already tugging at the strings to make him come undone. You, bent over like this, this was causing the frayed ends of his sanity pull as well.

“No.” You sighed heavily. You couldn't look at the crowd. To you they could only be responding in either two ways. Disgust or bewilderment. There was no in between in your mind.

“I'm going to pat you down to make sure you don't have anything on you to hurt me.” He knew that was a lie. You'd already hurt him. You couldn't possibly do more damage than you already did to his ego. Or so he thought. With both hands situated on your hips, he ground his own hips into your backside before letting his hands slip down to your thighs.

He dropped to his knees, his hands traveling down with him over the outside and then the over inside of your parted legs. He was immediately faced with more pain than he could possibly manage. He was face to face with the wet patch in your lace panties and it immediately threw him off guard.

It wasn't that he didn’t know you were wet, he'd figured that out much earlier in the night. No, it was because it was much worse than you just being merely wet, you were soaked, panties clinging to your pussy for dear life he was desperately doing to his sanity.

You felt exposed. Chewing on your lip, just waiting for the moment you could finally sit down. The rest of the girls who were danced on were seemingly having the time of their lives and that included Imogen. Why couldn't you just get out of your head? Whether he could flip you or not could be pushed to the back of your mind for the time being.

You just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment. Because when was the next time you'd get a dude to touch you like this? You were more than touch starved for a reason. In a perpetual dry spell. Plus, it didn't hurt to admit that there was this overall sexiness about this man. You sighed, arching your back a little more, spreading your legs a little more. Giving him more of the view he didn't know he needed.

He had to calm himself. The view he had in front of him right now, had to be one of the best things he'd ever seen in his life. It almost felt as if he was receiving the lap dance instead of you. He shook his head lightly, bringing himself back from being too distracted by you. He ran his hands down the outsides of your legs then moved between them to rub back up.

Standing back up, he grabbed your hips once again to grind into you, hands moving up your sides slowly, then up your back to the nap of your neck. He grabbed tight, not tight enough to hurt and pulled you back to him. Your back now flush to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hips still moving sensually against your own. You could feel his steady breaths against your neck, as if he wasn't doing a routine. As if his heart beating quickly in his chest wasn't enough to alert you to how he was feeling.

“Turn around for me.” You took a moment, but complied. You couldn't have him thinking you were eager enough to comply immediately. You waited a beat before turning around and facing him. He didn't let go of you, but he gave enough slack in his arms for you to move freely enough. Your chest rose and fell with each of your panicked breaths. Being this close in proximity to such a handsome man was making you nervous.

It'd truly been that long since you've been touched? Yes. You were genuinely surprised he wasn't covered in cobwebs from the contact. He hooked his hand under your thigh, lifting it, settling it againsts hip. His other hand sat firmly right above your ass just to keep you in place. You could feel his bulge against your heat, just the thought of his proximity made you salivate. And it turned out that he didn’t need fap material when you were in his presence. He'd recovered just fine after not being able to get it up with his usual means.

From where the audience was sitting, it looked like the two of you were caught in a passionate moment, unaware of the spectators. He ran his nose over your jaw as he pulled you in even closer. There was little to no room between the two of you. It took everything in him to pull away. There was the magnetism you held that made him not only curious about you, but made him want to stick to you. “Why don't you sit down for me, huh?” You sucked in a shaky breath and gave him a faint nod.

He let you go, even if his instincts told him to keep holding on. He took a step back as you took a seat. He tossed his hat to the side of the stage and took his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. He threw the garment to Imogen who surprised the heck out of you as.she sniffed it. She mouthed an “Oh my gosh he's so fucking fine.” To you while fanning herself, successfully making you giggle.

But those sweet giggles were soon replaced by A gasp as Officer Bang stood shirtless in front of you. You finally got to see the full extent of his tattoo placement. Random little red and yellow flowers, some flags, a cute portrait of a dog. None of it matched his almost sinister hand tattoo. That snarling wolf that looked as if it was staring you down, ready to rip you to shreds.

He leaned into your face once again, pulling you away from ogling his half naked, tattooed body. His finger hooked under your chin so that you'd look up at him. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Something about the way he looked at you as the sensual sounds of the Cuff It remix playing in the background made you press your legs together in an effort to stop your pussy from getting any wetter, as if it could. You were undoubtedly soaked, you knew that and unbeknownst to you, so did he.

“Never.” You whispered to him, a smirk spreading on your lips. “You'd have to earn that, Officer Bang.” You leaned back in the chair, his hand falling from your face and back to his side. The music playing in the background drowned out the conversation the two of you were having.

“Earn it, huh? Alright, bet.” He was putting on an air of confidence, he wanted you, if no one else, to think he was as confident as they came. Even if his feelings had been wavering all night. He took your cuffed hands and placed them on his stomach as he rolled his body. Your fingers slid until they caught onto his belt. He moved in, straddling your legs while towering over you.

“Take it off for me.” His voice was clear and commanding. He watched you carefully as you unbuckled his belt. Your brows were furrowed, lips tucked between your teeth. The amount of concentration exerted just undo his belt, let him know that your mind was working ten steps ahead of you right now. Even the look of innocence you gave him after you completed your task did not negate the fact.

“Thought you weren't going to be a good girl for me?” He whipped the belt through the loops then folded the belt in half. “What happened to me earning it? Huh?” He tapped the leather accessory under your chin. His eyes were so piercing they almost broke the barrier of your confident facade.

“How does that make me a good girl? Maybe I just want to see you with less on. Did that thought occur?” He chuckled, grabbing the back of your head while grinding towards your face. You flashed him that innocent look again, but with your adjacency to his crotch and you darting your tongue out to wet your lips, there was nothing innocent about you.

If anything you straddled the line between playful and something deeply sensual, with little to no effort. You knew what you were doing. You were teasing him, and he loved to be teased almost as much as he loved teasing. “It did. But you're a little too eager for it to be just that.” He stepped back again, hands moving to your thighs again. He pushed them open and lifted them, letting your legs rest around his waist. He grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, the other was placed on your hip. “Just admit you want me. It'd make things easier for you.” The way he ground his hips into you had a moan slipping past your lips

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Just give in to me.” He moved in like he was going to kiss you. At least to your hazy visions that's what it looked like. He fit so perfectly between your thick thighs and the way he moved against you was dizzying. Your friends were on the edge of their seats as they watched this dance. It was flirting with being hardcore pornography on the stage. The way your wetness was now dampening the front of his trousers. How your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in with the sharp heels of your shoes.

You moaned again, nails dragging down his stomach. “I could do much more to you if you let me. Just give in to me.” He was staring into your soul. He was touching you, but just barely and yet it felt as if every nerve ending of yours was on fire. As if another part of you was reacting, you nodded. It had to be that part of your brain that was too horny to function. The touch-starved beast that was desperately seeking attention from this beautiful specimen of a man that had you pent down to a chair in front of your friends.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Good girl.” He unhooked your legs from around his waist and moved them to his shoulders. His smirked shifted into a cocky smile as he left open mouth kisses down your clothed frame till he was right above your heat. He stealthily placed a kiss to your exposed panties, eyes still focused on yours, but now with a playful glint in them. He placed kisses on your thighs then nipped at the skin.

Chris had never been this drawn to a client before. He wanted to feel your skin for real. To feel your touch, maybe even to taste you, if you'd let him. With him this close to you, he could smell your sweet scent. And if he was honest, he'd tell you just how tempting you were. But, the man had a job to do. He was meant to entertain, and he had no reason not to fulfill that task.

He switched your position, your thighs were once again around his waist. “Put your arms around me.” You didn't hesitate. You looped your arms over his head, letting your arms settle around his shoulder, fingers accidentally threading into the damp patch of hair on the back of his head. He lifted you up, almost as if you weighed nothing to him. The look of shock on your face said enough.

He chuckled, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place. “Hold on tight, okay? I got you.” He used the grip on your ass to swing you back and forth, your hips crashing into his crotch, like he was fucking you. Your hold on his neck tightened. A bit of fear he'd drop you was creeping back up into the back of your mind, no matter how much you tried to trample it down.

“I won't drop you, I promise.” He smiled, “If I do, you can take it out on me however you like…. Deal?” That however you like sat with you. You almost wanted him to drop you, just so you could take it out on him. You nodded in agreement and relaxed your body, so that he could do what he wanted. “Plus, I don't plan on flipping you in front of all these people.” You looked at him confused, what was he even saying?

“That should be something done in private.” The next thing you know, your back is pressed against the cold stage and his hips are giving you a barrage of quick fire strokes just to slow it down once again. Now all he needed to do was a few finishing moves to close out the show, then things would come to a close. That would be the end of his time with you. For some reason, that just didn’t sit right with him.

He wanted to at least know your name. He’d tell you his name in return. He didn’t want to leave off with you knowing him as Officer Bang or Bang Chan. He wanted you to meet Chris. He placed your leg on his shoulder, feeling from your ankle down to your thigh. You don't know how but he turned you quickly on your stomach and maneuvered himself back between your legs. Rolling his hips into yours. You had nowhere to run, and truthfully you liked feeling him pressed against you.

You were flustered, face slightly damp with sweat. Chest rising and falling rapidly. Body racing with adrenaline. Loving the feeling of his hips grinding in circles against yours once again, making the heat of lust crawl back up your body once again. Fogging your mind until you couldn’t think of anything else but the way he felt moving against you. The lights dimmed, music faded, your friends roared loudly as they cheered from the crowd. You’d forgotten they were there, mind too gone with the man that was still on top of you, though his routine had ended.

“Come back stage with me?” He asked in your ear, voice hoarse from speaking over the music so you could hear. You nodded, too aroused to actually verbalize an answer. “Was.. was that a yes?” He chuckled lightly as he sat up. He grabbed your hips, helping you to get up from the floor, knowing it'd be pretty hard to do with your hands still cuffed. He stood to his feet before helping you and leading you carefully off stage, hand in hand.

That part was still dark and he didn't want you to take a tumble. You squinted as the darkness turned to light once behind the curtain. He pulled you off to the side, retrieving the key from his pocket. “You did great, by the way.” He kept your hand in his as he tried to unlock your cuffs. “It felt.. natural.” He wouldn't look in your eyes, at least not for long.

“I should be saying that to you, honestly. You're an amazing dancer.” You nodded, but noticed just how shy he got. He was still shakily trying to put the key in the hole, biting down on his bottom lip. “Take your time…” You encouraged him. “I'm sure Imogen still wants to party while a few of the girls.. you know.. partake in the other services offered here.” You didn't know why, but the thought of one of your friends asking to sleep with him bothered you immensely.

“And… What about you? What are your plans… if I ever get you uncuffed?” He was cursing himself out in his mind, how hard was it to take off a cuff? He'd done this many times before. Why was he so nervous?

“I'm down for whatever. I mean, I have to wait for my ride, right?” You chuckled. “Plus I'm sure one of the girls is booking you as we speak. Especially after that performance. I only saw a few of them from my peripherals, but they were beyond impressed. I think you got a standing ovation.” You chuckled half heartedly, the thoughts of him and one of the girls was still swimming around in your head. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Ah- yeah, nah. I don't offer those kinds of services. I leave that up to the rest of the guys.” He finally heard the click of the cuff and sighed out of relief. “Fucking.. finally.” He removed them and placed them in his pocket, then grabbed your wrists to message away the little indents left by them. “It doesn't hurt, does it?” His eyes were fully focused on your wrists.

“Not really. Rope burn is far worse, in my opinion.” You shrugged. “The marks will be gone within the hour.”

“Rope Burn- heh. Is it?” God, you were still doing things to his mind. His erection hadn't calmed down yet, either. “Are you.. Ya’know.. into that type of thing?” He could hear his heart in his head, beating loudly.

“I'm into all types of things, Officer Bang.” You teased.

He had to look up to the ceiling to gather himself. The image of you tied in rope, just waiting there for him almost made him cum in his trousers. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on you, “Chris. You can call me Chris.”

You smirked, “Chris, huh? Are you expecting me to tell you my name now…. Chris?” It was something in the way you said his name that almost made his knees give out.

“That would be nice. But it's not necessary, not if you don't want to tell me.” He was sweet, you recognized that. He finally let your wrists go, and you immediately missed the contact.

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous.” You gave him a soft smile, “I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Chris.” You didn't ask or hesitate, you just took his hand in yours, giving it a shake. But he took you off guard when he pulled you hand to his mouth, giving you a kiss on the back of it.

“Pleasures all mine.” That mischievous glint was back in his eyes as they traveled from your face down to your chest and back up.

“It's not. But it could be.” You don't know who broke first, but you were suddenly engaged in a kiss, your back pressed against the hallway wall that you first met him at. He had you boxed in, a hand on each side of your head. Your hands started at his waist and worked their way up his abs to his pecks.

He needed to feel more of you. Just your lips touching was not even close to being enough to satisfy this growing need he had for you. He pressed his body yours, moving one hand to grip one of your thick thighs, resting it at his waist. You could feel him against your core, the contact igniting something within you.

He moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, taking his precious time with leaving his mark behind. He didn't know who needed to know, but he wanted people to know he'd been there. You moaned as his teeth grazed over the most sensitive spot on your neck. “There, yeah?” He ran his tongue over the bite, just to suck a hickey into the spot.

“Turn around for me.” Letting your leg fall from his side, he took a step back, watching you carefully as you turned to face the wall. Face and chest pressed to the faux brick. “Fuck…” Your dress had ridden up, but not far enough in his humble opinion. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over your ass, watching your ass drop-out of the material. The glimpse he'd gotten earlier didn't do you justice, not in the least bit.

He landed a smack to your ass, gripping that same spot before smacking it again. You looked back at him, lust dripping off of your expression. “Don't look at me like that.” He could feel his cheeks flush, his ear burning.

“Like what?” You asked, genuinely curious as to what your expression looked like to him. There was still lust burning in your eyes.

“Like you want me to fuck you. Right here, right now.” He had taken hold of your hips again, his body pressed to yours once more.

“I wouldn't object, if you're asking.” His fingers dug into your hips lightly. He leaned his head on your shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. He was convinced you were sent to get him to back out of everything he'd once vowed he'd never do again. Maybe Changbin sent you. An agent of chaos.

“You don't seem like the reckless type and that… would be very reckless.” He felt as if he was on the edge of desperation. “You aren't a bad girl, are you?” You whimpered. He hadn't realized you were feeling just as desperate as he was. “You don't want to be a good girl for me? Haven't I earned it?”

He was breaking you down with every word utter from his beautifully plump mouth. “Can't I be both for you?” He nodded against your shoulder.

“Yes, yes you can. Yes, you absolutely can, baby.” His fingers toyed with the lacey waistband of your thong. “As long as I'm offered the same courtesy.” He traced along it until he got to the string sitting snugly between your cheeks. “May I?” He pulled away, just to get another glimpse at your ass.

“Go right ahead.” You by all accounts, were a straight shooter. You usually told it like it was, especially when you'd had a drink or two. But being this bold? With a stranger? Never. This was far from who you usually were. He pulled your panties to the side, taking in the glorious sight before him.

“Fuck…. I've been waiting to see this all night.” He spread your cheeks to get a better view and the visual was almost too much to take in. Your pussy was already ready for him. Your puffy lips were smeared with wetness that had collected throughout the night. He ran his fingers over your lips, shuddering from the warmth of your slickness.

You moaned feeling his skin make contact with yours. It'd been so long since you'd been touched that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. “I want to tease you so bad…” His voice was breathy, fingers running up and down your slit, “But you're so fucking wet I can barely contain myself. Your pussy is begging me to fuck it.” He slipped a finger in. You were wet, but he could still feel resistance. He groaned. His mind filled with how wet and tight you were.

He added a second, knowing almost immediately that he'd have to stretch your pussy out if he expected to fit. If he even made it that far. You clenched around his two digits as he slid into your wetness. You bit down on your bottom lip, to stifle the moan that was rising in your throat. He gave you no time to adjust, his fingers pleasantly grazing against your walls, in and out. Your eyes fluttered shut, you were numb to any of your surroundings that weren't him

He twisted his fingers, palm now facing down, the eye of a snarling wolf on his hand now watching your back. He was intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Imagination running wild with the thoughts of what it would feel like to be deep inside of you. To feel your tightness squeezing his length, wetness coating it. To see just how your fat little cunt swallowed him.

He needed to add a third, for his sanity. Just as he slipped that third finger in, people rounded the corner. He stuffed them inside of you, covering your mouth with a kiss as he shielded your lower half with his own. You couldn't even comprehend how indecent this was. Your mind is completely consumed with lust.

“Oh- didn't mean to interrupt.” Allana giggled, hands wrapped tightly around Changbin's arm. Changbin gave his friend a knowing look, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“The lounge is free. All the guys booked tonight.” He smiled, patting his shoulder before toting off his client for the night.

“We can't stay here.” Chris spoke lowly into your ear. “Come with me, yeah?” He pulled his fingers from your grip and couldn't stop himself from getting a taste. The way your wetness coated his fingers like the sweetest drips of ice cream from a melting cone, he truly couldn't resist.

He indulged in sweetness while you adjusted your dress, pulling it down to make you look presentable once again. He was still licking his fingers even after you were done. Needing more than just a taste, he grabbed your hand and tugged you gently along to the lounge. It was a shared space, but with his dressing room being too small and him not having a designated room anymore, the lounge would have to do.

Chris made sure to lock the door. “I don't know how much time we ha-” He was stopped mid-sentence by your lips on his. You pulled him by the belt loops on his pants to the plush white sofa in the middle of the room. Pushing him down on it, you quickly straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around him, resuming the kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, mingling with the lingering minty freshness.

Everything was telling him to be a gentleman, to be responsible. To find out how you'd get home if your friends left. He'd gladly take you, but he knew how it would look if he knew your address. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with that, he understood. “Get out of your head.” You spoke against his lips. You could tell he was thinking? That it had nothing to do with the nasty things his other head had been thinking for hours now? “Hey.” Pulling away from the kiss, you grabbed his face, making him look at you. “Whatever it is, worry about it later. I feel like I’ve been edged all night and I really need to be fucked stupid. Okay?”

He chuckled, “Okay.” Your little not so peppy-talk seemed to do it for him. Any and all thoughts not pertaining to this moment he was sharing with you were now out of the window. He needed to see you in all your glory, and thought he appreciated the way that dress fit you, he would much rather see it on the floor. He slipped the straps off your arms, fingers gently trailing down your skin, leaving little goosebumps in its wake. You let it fall, pulling your arms out. Next to go was your strapless bra, expert fingers quickly rid you of the garment, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity. “You’re perfect.” His thumbs traced over your collarbones, before his fingers joined in over your chest and down to your breast.

“Hardly. But I know how to take a compliment.” You joked, “Thank you.” He touched you like he was trying his best to savor the moment, not wanting it to end. He shook his head, cupping your breast, feeling the weight of them.

“You look perfect to me.” You just hummed, not wanting to argue him down about it. It wasn't worth it and you wanted to stay in the moment. He kissed your sternum, “Get up for me for a second.” You were taken off guard, but you moved off his lap and stood up. He laid down flat on the sofa and beckoned you over with his finger. “Sit on my face. I want to taste you.” It took a second for your brain to catch up with his words.

“Look, just because you might be capable of flipping me does not mean I wouldn't suffocate you-” He groaned, interrupting you.

“I didn't ask. Just come sit on my fucking face.” Your eyes went wide, not expecting him to talk to you like that. But you would be the first to admit it kind of turned you on. You moved with haste, kneeling next to his head before straddling his face. “Good girl.” You were beginning to really like the sound of him calling you that.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, careful not to put all your weight on him, keeping most of it on your knees. Chris grew impatient the way you were hovering over him, after pulling your panties to the side once again, he roughly grabbed your hips pulling you down on top of him. His face made the perfect seat for you, enveloped between your cheeks, nose and mouth slotted between your lower lips. His tongue immediately went to work, making you squirm on top of him.

You bit back your moans, even with the other guys being otherwise occupied, you didn’t want to risk being too loud. A hard smack landed on your ass, making you jump and squeeze your thighs around his head. Deft hands spread your cheek; that gave him a little more room to move between the thickness of your ass and pussy lips. Not wanting to be the only one to receive pleasure, you leaned forward, sliding a hand into his pants. You gripped his member with one hand and pushed his boxers under his balls with the other.

You gasped at the sight of his thick cock; mouth immediately salivating. He slid his thumb into your cunt, making your grip on him tighten. He groaned against your clit, stopping for a second just to commence his torture of your pussy. But two could play that game, right? You went to work, testing out the waters first. Seeing just how much of his big cock you could take. You spit on it, letting it dribble down his length. “Good girl.” He spoke between your folds.

Making sure his member was completely wet, you gripped the shaft with two hands and took him back in your mouth. Your mouth and hands moving simultaneously on his dick made him sigh with pleasure. It'd been a while since he'd been touched by anyone besides himself and he needed the relief more than you knew. Your mouth was the perfect amount of wet and the way you slurped was the perfect amount of nasty. He replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers, going slow at first before quickening his pace to match yours.

Wet noises replaced the background club noise that filled the room earlier. Chris loved the way you tasted on his tongue but he needed to get his dick wet with more than saliva. With a hard smack to your ass, he spoke up, “Turn around for me.” He had figured out that in order to get his point across with you he needed to be assertive. He was normally polite, but politeness could wait for later. “I need to be inside of you.”

You were so needy you didn’t even think twice about his request. You let his cock go with some resistance, a small pop resounding through the room as you pulled him from your mouth. You must have been moving a little too slow for his liking, because the next thing you knew, you were flipped over onto your back, legs spread but also close to your chest as his cock slid between your folds. “I don’t mean to be impatient…” He paused, groaning as the back of his tip brushed over your clit, sending chills through his body. You were beyond wet, more especially now that he’d added his saliva to the mix. “I need you.”

You could feel the heat travel from the center of your chest, up your neck, to your face. His words felt genuine, even under the circumstances. He leaned in, kissing your lips, distracting you from him lining himself up with your entrance. The kiss was intoxicating. Enough so that it made your hip buck up into his, the tip of his cock consequently sliding into you. Your breath hitched, eyes rolling back at the unexpected stretch. “Patience is a virtue, beautiful.” He chuckled darkly. Was this the same man who couldn’t even give you time to flip around yourself? He was now telling you that patience was indeed a virtue, but it was clearly something neither of you had. “Fuck you feel so good..” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since he flipped you over, and honestly, he didn’t know if he would be able to. You were gorgeous to him. Every single last inch. The wet sound of his hips harshly slamming into your filled the room, tuning out the muffled club music.

The way he was filling you up, stretching your walls deliciously, was absolutely mind boggling. He felt so good inside of you that you almost didn’t know what was up or down. Your nails dug into his forearms. Your jaw was slack, eyes threatening to close. “Fuck…. Yes.. there…” He had readjusted his hips, digging his knees into the couch, pushing your legs towards your armpits. You’d never been stretched like this, and you meant that in more than one way. He focused his eyes on the mess that was accumulating between the two of you. Your wetness was accompanied by your cream, his cock was dripping with your essence. The sound, the sight, the smell, the taste, everything was getting to him. You moaned loud, eyes glossed over, unable to hide your feelings from him anymore.

Your eyes were just as dark as his, both of you caught in the torrent of ecstasy. He leaned in, pecked at your lips, then your jaw, over your neck and chest, to your breast , draggin his tongue across the flesh before haphazardly sucking the pebbled bud into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair. Fingers tugging on the sweat slicked curls at his nape. He moaned and that sent you barreling towards orgasm. You spread your legs wider, begging to feel more of him. He picked up his speed, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to give your other tit the same treatment. His ability to multitask was truly astounding.

Normally you’d put in some type of effort, hell-bent on not being some random man's pillow princess, but the way this man was putting in work all you could do was lie there and take it. You squeezed your already tight walls around him, making his hips stutter. “Don’t play games you know you won’t win.” He spoke gruffly, lips still pressed to your feverish skin. “Quit while you're ahead, baby.” That felt like a challenge. Part of you wanted to know just what he planned to do if you didn’t ‘quit while you were ahead’. So you tested it.

Every drag out of your cunt earned a clench. The first time he let it go, but the second time caused him to groan, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re fucking killing me…” He grumbled, doing a few shallow and quick thrusts just to throw you off. He pulled out completely, tapping his slick riddled cock against your clit. A tiny drizzle of cum shooting from his tip and landing on your already messy pussy. “Look at how wet you have my dick. You even have me cumming a little already… fuck… you're perfect” He bit down on his swollen bottom lip, teasing you with just the tip of his dick. He enjoyed the way your cunt looked wrapped around him. You tried to wrap your legs around him, groaning when he caught on, pushing your legs back towards your chest.

“Nuh-huh, you think after all of that I’ll let that pretty pussy of yours get what it wants?” The sinister look he gave you as his lips curled into a smile would have been terrifying if it didn’t turn you on. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” He laughed innocently as if he didn’t just stuff you full of cock moments ago. “You’ll be lucky if I let you come.” He smirked, sitting back on his legs, he grabbed at your hips, swiftly turning you around. You didn’t even get a chance to protest. It happened faster than your mind could process. A few throw pillows were stuffed up under your stomach, successfully elevating your hips. “Fuck… would you look at that?”

You didn’t even know him well, but you could tell he was pleased with himself. He smacked both your cheeks before spreading them wide. Wild thoughts were running through his mind at the sight. He spit on your pussy before using his tongue to lap up all of the cream that was spread over it, your asshole, and your thighs. A man starved. That's what he ate like. It was your turn for your eyes to roll back, you gripped at the armrest, pushing your hips further into his face. Those plush lips in combination with that thick tongue? Heavenly. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your belly twist up and just as it was about to snap, hell pulled away with a soft chuckle.

You whined. You needed that release. “My turn…” You don't know what exactly came over him, but it was like he snapped. He slid back into your wanton cunt, causing your pussy to queef from suddenly being filled to the brim. You squealed, not used to your body making that sound. He placed his hand over the lower part of your back, just above your butt, pressing down to make you arch for him. And that's when all hell broke loose. This man had to be the spawn of the devil with the way he was after your soul. He was desperately trying to snatch your life force right out of your body with every deep thrust he gave you. Your walls fluttered around him, he moved his hands to your hips, nails digging into your skin as a way to ground himself. He was muttering things to himself, it honestly sounded like a bunch of gibberish to you. But then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything other than how hard he felt inside of you. “Fuck… this pussy is so good.” He groaned, pressing his hips flush against yours, hitting the deepest spot inside of you.

Your toes curled, vision turning white from the sensation. You didn’t even realize you were cumming until he pulled all the way out. “Please… please put it back in.” You begged, hole begging to be filled again, even though you just came. He obliged. He wanted to get off just as you had, but this time he wasn’t out for revenge, he slowly entered you, letting you feel every inch and vein. It had been a while since you last had some, and then it wasn’t much to write home about. This? Him? You’d shout it from the rooftops if you had to, this man’s dick game was impeccable. You moaned and writhed under him. He trached a hand up your sweat slick back, grabbing ahold of your neck and pulling you up and back towards him. His other arm wrapped around your tummy as he drug his lips over your shoulder, speaking a melange of your name and several curse words. He was in heaven. His heart pounded hard against his chest, any sounds but the ones that reverberated off the walls in this room were a non factor to him. He was here, at this moment, with the beautiful woman he spotted out in the crowd.

You hoped there was a hidden camera in this room that could pinpoint your time of death, because you could have sworn you ascended. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, eyes slightly closed, a severely fucked out expression on your face. You were dripping wet, walls still quivering around him, and he loved every bit of it. “You’re so fucking good, baby… so tight.. Wet… fuck..” His voice progressively got whinier, his end was near. His hand moved from the back of your neck to the front, squeezing lightly. His conclusion was right on the tip of his tongue, the words begging to fall from his lips. His hips stuttered, his arm around your middle pulling you impossibly close. He gave a few sharp thrusts, “Fuck- baby, I-I’m gonna come… I’m gonna..” He cried out, once against pushing his pelvis completely against yours as he spilled his seed inside of your begging cunt. You moaned, the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls was enough to make them quiver again, threatening to overstimulate him. “Fuck, baby.. Too tight..” He spoke, while thrusting his cum deeper into your cunt. It took a spell of labored breaths and soft whimpers before he came down enough to pull his softening cock from inside of you. If he let you go right now you were sure you would fall face first into the cushions of this couch.

You were blissed and fucked out, a crooked smile set on your face. He laid you down gently, watching your cunt to see if any of his seed dripped out, to see if he indeed fucked it deep enough. He smirked to himself when the only proof that he came inside of you was the small snail trail he broke when he pulled out. The room was silent for a while, the sound of the muted club music was no longer drowned out by the sound of sex. You’d close your eyes, honestly ready to knock out for the next couple hours if he let you. He on the other hand had his eyes focused right on your pussy, still wet from the night's events. “My gosh… you are a dangerous, dangerous woman.” His dick twitched when you pulled your knees together to get a little more comfortable. He sighed, this just wouldn’t do. “I don’t usually do this… but.. I honestly don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” His words caused you to quickly open your eyes and turn around. Your eyes traveled from his face to check if he was serious, down to his semi-hard dick. “Would you mind… coming back to my place for.. Round two… or three?”

Your eyes were wide. There was no way this man was serious. “Only if you are down. If not, we can hit the showers and I can escort you back to you-” You stopped him with a sensual kiss.

“Yes.” You spoke against his lips. Maybe being a bridesmaid paid off this time.

FIN

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ashfae · 2 years ago

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Edit on 5/2/2025: I have mixed feelings about aspects of this essay these days but have chosen to keep it up and pinned as I'm still happy with my analysis even if I'm furious at NG, who is mentioned several times. TW for that. Argh.

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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as NG described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

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ancnymcnzjy · 2 months ago

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Dating or Not Dating?

Pairing: Lee Heeseung x f. reader

Genre: Fake dating, best friends to lovers, fluff, subtle angst, romance

Warning: Explicit language, smut

Synopsis: You don’t answer your friend’s call because you’re hanging out with Lee Heeseung, your guy best friend, whom you haven’t seen since you were nine.

Too occupied with the video game you're playing and since your guy best friend is using your phone anyway, you ask him to text your friend for you.

He sends a message saying, "She can’t talk right now. What’s up?" which makes her freak out and ask lots of questions.

Your lack of response leads her to interrogate your other friends—now they think you're dating someone.

Taking advantage of your friends’ confusion, you wonder: What’s the worst that could happen if you randomly soft-launch your guy best friend to get a reaction out of them?

Word Count: 2,545

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆ ˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆⭒˚｡

You suddenly became the topic of discussion among your friends in the days following you posted a picture of Heeseung on your Instagram story.

They didn’t necessarily believe that you suddenly had a boyfriend, since you’re always open with them about what's going on in your life.

It also seemed unlikely that you would start dating someone without first telling your friends how much you like them.

However, your friends bought it, using your recent absence due to illness as an excuse and a canvas for their imagination.

You kept quiet, hiding your amusement as they speculated and came up with absurd conclusions for your recent absence.

They also started examining the picture you posted, trying to figure out who it was.

Suddenly, you were glad Heeseung turned away just as you took the picture. Although his side profile was visible, your friends wouldn’t have a clue who he was since you became friends with them a year after he already moved away.

As school ended, your friends began leaving the campus.

They asked if you'd like to come to the mall, but you declined, saying you had somewhere else to be.

On any normal occasion, you’d head straight to your car.

Today, however, you stayed at the entrance of your university, leaving your friends puzzled.

Soon, it dawns upon them that you’re getting picked up.

You wave goodbye to them as you head over to Heeseung’s car that’s just pulling up.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their shocked expressions as you get in Heeseung’s car.

Wanting to get more reactions out of them, you give Heeseung a peck on the cheek before buckling yourself in.

As Heeseung drives off, you glance back at your friends, who are now exchanging looks and trying to make sense of what they’d just witnessed.

•••

Back at your place, you and Heeseung spend the rest of the day hanging out in your bedroom.

While Heeseung plays video games on your PC, you're contemplating how this whole fake dating idea will play out.

"Hee, do you think our idea will work?" you ask, beginning to doubt your spontaneous plan of soft-launching him on your socials before revealing to your friends who your boyfriend is.

"I don't see why not. Your friends already believe you have a boyfriend—especially now that they saw a glimpse of us together earlier in my car.

The worst-case scenario is we stop, and you tell them the truth, saying it was a joke all along."

With truth in his words, you remain quiet, choosing to silently ponder the outcome of this whole thing.

Not liking your state of overthinking, you distract yourself by watching him get his third kill in his game.

Your eyes wander to his wide eyes, twinkling with concentration. His bottom lip is tucked beneath his teeth, and his hands skillfully click the keys on your keyboard.

The way the computer screen illuminates his figure stirs something in you.

On any other occasion, his matching pajama pants with you and the random shirt he's wearing would have you laughing and teasing him about how silly he looks. But the way they perfectly fit his body has you hitching your breath and swallowing your nervousness.

As if sensing your stare, Heeseung looks at you when his game ends.

He removes the headphones from his head and makes his way to you.

Before you can move to make space for him on your bed, he quickly shifts and hovers above you, holding himself just above your lying figure with his arms.

Him playfully trapping you beneath his arms is common, yet the way he cages you in this time feels different.

You look up at Heeseung, who stares down at you with adoration.

"What's wrong, Hee?" you ask, curiosity etched into your furrowed brows.

He's quiet as he observes every delicate detail on your face.

You stare up at him as his eyes trail from your eyes and down to your lips.

You let out a surprise gasp when he suddenly kisses you, and let out more similar noises when you feel him press his body against yours.

You feel the bulge in his pants become more prominent, and you subconsciously start moving your hips to meet his light thrusts against your core.

While your hand is tangled up in his hair, his own hand is against your cheek keeping it steady so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

As you let him explore your mouth, a little voice in your head reminds you that friends don't kiss. Friends don’t shove their tongue down each other’s throats, and friends especially don’t have their hands exploring one another’s body as if their life depended on it.

So ever since you and Heeseung agreed to fake date, have you been able to call one another just friends?

Heeseung pulls away from the kiss first.

His eyes mirror your lustful gaze as his eyes trail down to your chest.

At the sight of your erect nipples poking through your shirt, his eyes darken and a smug smile is plastered across his lips.

He makes direct eye contact with you while lowering his head down to kiss each of your breasts, savouring the soft feeling he’s met with.

He eyes the hem of your shirt and bunches it up in his hand.

“Sit up for me quickly, angel,” Heeseung asks you while kissing your cheek.

You do as he says, lifting your arms up as well to let him take your shirt off.

Not liking how you’re the only one exposed, you ask him to take his own shirt off as well.

Catching Heeseung by surprise, you latch your legs around his waist and flip the both of you around so he's laying down and you’re straddling him from the top.

You peck his lips before showering his neck and collar bone with feather light kisses.

Your hand gets busy exploring every inch of his exposed skin.

When you reach his chest and abdomen, you drag your fringes across them teasingly.

Heeseung shudders at your touch, instantly gripping your wrists in warning of the game you’re playing.

Growing up together, you’ve come to learn all his sensitive spots. When you were younger, you exploited that knowledge to tickle him when he wasn’t expecting it; now, you use it to get the reactions you so badly want from him.

You smile teasingly at him while your fingers move lower until they reach the band of his sweatpants.

Slowly, you pull it down along with his boxers, making his hardened dick spring out onto his stomach.

With your fingertip, you trace the prominent veins along his length and swipe over his red, sensitive tip that’s already spilling precum.

You smile to yourself, knowing you're the cause of his uneven breathing and trembling body—both the result of anticipation.

While kissing up his body once more, you notice the silver necklace dangling around his neck.

You pull on the angel charm that’s attached to bring his lips to yours. At the same time, you wrap your fingers around his length.

He’s already wet from precum, but he’s not as slick as you want him to be.

You pull your lips away from Heeseung, a string of saliva following you as you hover your face above his.

“Sit up and spit on your dick for me, baby.” You ask Heeseung sweetly while stopping your strokes along his length.

He does what you ask, though biting his lip and leaning his head back in amusement immediately afterward, since it's not quite registering in his brain that you, his best friend, could ever say such words.

You’ve been shy since you were young—you spoke shyly, too. But now that you're both older, it’s clear that some things have changed.

Heeseung watches how his precum and spit smear all over his length as you move your hand up and down.

He lets out a subtle groan when you lower your head, kissing his tip teasingly before licking down his length to reach the base of his dick.

You take him in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly while using your hand to jerk off the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He fits your mouth perfectly. Each thrust has his dick hitting the back of your throat, where Heeseung praises you with compliments that have you moaning around his dick as a result of making him feel good.

You look up to see his chest heaving desperately. Wanting to make him feel even better, you go to pick up your pace when Heeseung suddenly stops you.

“Come up here, pretty,” he says out of breath.

He watches as you release him from your mouth, then holds out his hand to help you move up to his lap.

You lift yourself up so Heeseung can remove your shorts and underwear.

You place one hand on his shoulder for stability, and the other around his length to line it up with your entrance.

You glide his tip along your pussy, grinding your hips simultaneously to cover his dick in your arousal.

Slowly you slip his tip inside and move yourself down until his dick is halfway in. His thickness and length has you stopping abruptly to get used to his size.

While you tilt your head back in pleasure, Heeseung’s breath hitches as he gets accustomed to your tightness.

You bring your other hand to his shoulder just as Heeseung squeezes your plush thighs to stop him himself from cuming too quickly.

Once you’ve lowered yourself completely on his length, Heeseung’s hand moves up to feel the prominent bulge on your stomach.

He looks into your eyes and asks smugly, “Am I too big for you, angel?”

You nod, closing your eyes and biting your lip to contain the lustful moans daring to spill from your lips.

He laughs softly at your reaction before kissing down your neck to the swell of your breasts.

His tongue circles around one of your nipples while his hand fumbles with the other.

Heeseung picks up on your approaching release, moving his hand from your breast to your clit.

You let out a surprised moan at the same time that your thighs jerk from his sudden movements.

“I’m close, baby,” you tell Heeseung.

Your eyes roll back when you feel him thrust his hips up to meet your bounces.

“Me too, angel,” Heeseung replies before kissing you on the lips.

He grips your hips tightly, keeping you steady as he thrusts faster to reach your desired orgasms.

His grip on your thighs leave red pleasurable marks that have you biting your lip and digging your nails into his skin.

At the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall and your skin slapping together, you’re brought over the edge simultaneously.

You let out an obscene moan as Heeseung fills your pussy to the hilt with his cum.

After bouncing on his dick one last time, you lie your body against his.

You and Heeseung lie in silence, both catching your breath and coming down from your high.

Heeseung gently massages the skin he marked while also pressing soft kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“Wait here for a second," Heeseung whispers softly in your ear, lifting you off him and onto the bed so he can stand.

He walks over to your ensuite bathroom and turns on the faucet in your bathtub. You watch as he waits for the tub to fill up with water before adding your favourite bath products.

Heeseung walks over to you and lifts you into his arms. He carries you to the bathroom and gently places you in the bathtub. Afterward, he climbs in with you.

You sit still, allowing him to smother soap all over you–letting his original plan of cleaning you both up work for a bit.

Once he feels your ass grinding against him and your hand slowly trailing down to his length, all of his previous plans vanish as he responds to your smutty motions just beneath the water’s surface.

•••

You wake up the next morning on top of Heeseung’s sleeping figure.

Your arms are loosely wrapped around his shoulders, his hands gripping your waist, and your legs are intertwined with his.

Looking up slightly to see Heeseung’s face, you can’t help but trace the outlines of his features.

You drag your finger from his soft, wavy black hair to the outline of his ear, then down his jaw and chin. Your eyes shift to his lips, and you can’t help but touch them softly, too.

Heeseung stirs awake from your movements, and his eyes slowly flutter open.

He tenses, his brows furrowing for a second, wondering who is touching him. He only relaxes when he sees that it’s you.

“Morning, pretty,” Heeseung says, his voice raspy. He smiles at you before grasping your hand and pulling it from his face to place it on the pillow beside him.

With the same hand, he gently holds your face and gives you a soft kiss on your lips.

You return it, but with urgency, propping yourself to sit upright afterward.

“What's wrong?” Heeseung asks, concern filling his voice at your sudden change in mood.

Your back straightens, and your eyes wander around the room—a nervous habit you have that Heeseung knows all too well about.

He brings his hand to your exposed leg, running his thumb back and forth on your thigh encouragingly.

“About last night...that was a mistake. Friends don’t have sex—hell, best friends don’t either! We also can't blame it on the fact that we're dating because our relationship is fake.” You explain to him.

Silence meets you, and you keep your head down, staring at his hand, too nervous to look up at him.

While your mind races with the worst possible outcomes, Heeseung interrupts your train of thought by holding your chin and making you face him.

“Look at me, angel.”

Your eyes flicker to his, meeting his solemn stare.

"You're right, we took things a bit too far considering this is just a fake relationship.

But what if I don’t want it to be fake? I enjoyed our intimate moment, and surely, so did you." Your flushed cheeks give him an answer, making him smile fondly at you.

With his voice soft and his face much closer to yours, he admits,

"I’ve spent so long hiding the fact that I like you. You gave me the opportunity to be your boyfriend these past couple of weeks—even if it’s been fake—and I took it!

I cherished you, took you on dates, gave you gifts, and showed you off to my friends and family just like a real boyfriend would." He pauses, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"I want to call it quits on our little game. I no longer want to be your boyfriend just for the sake of our fake dating agreement, but rather your boyfriend in an actual relationship, so I can officially call you mine."

"So what do you say? Are you in?" Heeseung asks, staring intently at you.

When he sees a smile slowly grow on your lips, he lets out a smile of his own.

"I’m in."

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wandaslittlelove · 4 months ago

Text

Death's Lover

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Warnings: Does not follow the plot, implied smut, Rio being soft

The witches' road otherwise known as Death's domain. It was a place filled with many horrors. Those that were lucky enough to make it to the end would get what they desired most while those who weren’t as lucky found their souls being claimed by lady death.

There is a castle on a hill. One that is impossible to find unless you know what you're looking for. It’s said the castle is pitch black with little green accents. Who’s castle might it be? Well deaths of course.

You had lived on the road for centuries. Helping so many different witches to get to the end of the road. You were bound to the road just as you were bound to her. Many many moons ago you had lived in a small village. The people there were extremely spiritual and had known and accepted witches. Many had called you an angel for your ability to heal the wounded and sick. White magic is what you possessed. A type of magic that is pure. Some would say you are the embodiment of life. Until things went wrong.

The leader of the village had come down with some kind of illness. He was feverish and coughed blood as he grew pallor by the day. You had attempted to heal him but you could see the way his lifeline was slowly dimming. After telling them that you couldn’t heal him they took to other methods. You were sleeping when they broke into your little cottage. They had pulled you out of bed and carved symbols into your skin. You laid bleeding as they lit candles around you. It wasn’t hard to tell what was happening. They were attempting to offer your soul in exchange for his life.

When Rio appeared you were on the brink of death. There was blood in a puddle surrounding you and your chest was barely moving.

You don’t remember much after she appeared. The next thing you remembered was waking up in her castle fully healed. It had been centuries since then. Since you became bound to Rio for eternity. You were not allowed to leave her domain or the castle perimeters unless she was with you. She couldn’t protect you if she wasn’t there.

Many stories had been thrown out for centuries about what happened to you but all of them came to the same conclusion. You were Death's pet. Nothing more but a toy for Rio. But you knew the truth. Rio wasn’t the best lover but she tried. She brought you gifts every time she had to go claim a soul, she was very cuddly and touchy as well, and she had made you a small garden outside of the castle as well as got you chickens and ducks. She had placed runes on you to keep you protected and had carved her name onto your thigh (to which you had begged her to do). Rio wasn’t the best at loving but she tried her best to make you happy. With that she also loved control. When you both would go on walks outside of the castle she had a collar wrapped around your neck with a chain leash hanging from it that was always in her hand.

As you passed her to get changed she grabbed your wrist pulling you close and placing a light kiss on your cheek. Her nails dig slightly causing crescent marks to be left behind. But you didn’t mind.

Many witches that had met you by mistake on the road had tried to set you free. Some of them tried to use it as their wish at the end. But the outcome was always the same. There was no way to unbind you from Rio and you were okay with that.

“Mi amor” Rio spoke from behind you. You were currently crouched down pulling some weeds from the flower bed. Turning you smiled at her. In her hand she was holding a dress. It was green and covered with patterns of different flowers. “Clean up then put this on” As she speaks you feel the ground tremble a bit. Neither of you are bothered by this. At first it scared you. You had run into her arms clinging to her every time it happened. But soon you learned it was just natural. The shaking had meant that someone made it to the end of the road. A sign that they were approaching the castle.

After changing into the dress you had quickly made your way to the room you knew she would be waiting in. She had placed the collar around your neck securely before clipping the leash to it. You had then kneeled by her side and kept your head down as you felt the tremors of the ground.

Feeling a tug on your chain you looked up at her for what would be the last time until the witches left. She stood slightly in front of you in her true form. The flesh around her mouth was missing and her nose gone, the black attire, and the crown she wore proudly above her head. You remember running when she first showed herself to you like this. You had run out of the castle and down the hill till you couldn’t run anymore. You no longer feared her though. You knew she would never hurt you (well unless you let her) and you had found her to be beautiful. Truly beautiful. She was beautiful no matter how she looked but you had found that she was the most beautiful when she was truly herself.

She took the knife in her hand and ran it along your cheek allowing red to fall out of the cut she left behind. She watched intently as the warm red beads slipped down your cheek towards your neck. Just as she went to reach out the doors to the castle slammed shut. She quickly pulled away and you put your head back down looking at the ground.

In walked two witches and you glanced up enough to be able to see them. You recognized them as the witches you had helped earlier. They were both looking at you and Rio with wide eyes as they tried to process everything.

“This is the end of the road right? We get our greatest desire now.” One of them spoke as they stared at Rio. you could see the fear written on both of their faces but didn’t react to it. You were used to all and knew that everything was about to get a lot scarier for them.

The space you were in was small but big enough that you could fit comfortably with another person. Rio appeared in front of you back in her usual form. Any sign of her skeleton gone. Her hands came up to your face and gently cradled as she looked at the now dry blood. Leaning closer she liked the wound and the blood and then gently ran her thumb over the spot where it used to be.

Rio chuckled before speaking “Not quite. This is the last trial” Rio tugged on your leash and you moved forward a bit causing both of the witches to glance at you. “You have thirty minutes. Find her and you’ll get your desires. Don’t find her and well I’d hate to see what happens” She says as she brings the knife back down to your face. Then the lights flickered and you were gone. “Time starts now” She laughs as a clock appears above her head.

The two witches quickly run to try and find you before the timer runs out. You knew it was likely they wouldn’t though. Only a few people had and the last to do so was Agatha Harkness. A power hungry witch that had found you within the last couple seconds of the timer.

She brought you into a kiss and quickly tangled her hands into your hair as she tugged harshly causing you to gasp. When you gasped she was quick to slip her tongue into your mouth and fight for dominance to which you quickly gave her. After a few minutes you pulled away breathless as her hands started running down your body.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet. I’d hate to punish you for letting them find you.” Rio whispers as her nails dig harshly into the skin of your thighs. She leans forwards, mouth nipping at your neck causing a pained grunt to leave your lips. You knew there was going to be marks but you didn’t care.

(Im to lazy to write smut)

You pant heavily as you lean against Rio. She whispers soft praises in your ear as she holds you gently and rubs your back. Suddenly you see a bright light as the timer stops. With just three seconds to spare they had found you. Rio crawls out of the tight space and tugs you with her and you follow. The leash appears attached to your collar again and you quickly get back down to your knees.

“We’ve found her. Now give us what we desire. And let her go” One of the two witches speaks as she glances between you and Rio. Rio gives a manacle chuckle at the witches words.

“You will get what you desire. But she stays” The two witches look shocked. Almost as if this wasn’t something they expected. But did they really think Rio was just going to hand you over?

“But you said..” you witch pauses as she replays Rio’s words.

“I never said she could go. Now leave” Rio spits as she was getting tired of the two. The two witches hesitate as they glance back at you before running out of the now open door and disappearing. Finally making it off the witches road. As soon as they disappear the leash and collar disappear and you stand. She steps closer to you and strokes your cheek before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Come my love. We have bodies to collect”

#rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x fem reader #rio vidal x female reader #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #agatha all along #rio vidal #lady death #marvel rio vidal #mcu rio vidal

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wakeup01 · 4 months ago

Text

From Behind

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

He’ll make a cute Butt Boy.

#transformation #dumbing down #butt growth #gay #brainwashing #twink tf

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screampied · 11 months ago

Text

saying “goodnight,” to gojo is one of the worst things you could ever tell him.

some may ask why . . it’s a simple word, a sweet farewell of good dreams if you will. but in this case, perhaps not. just a simple word, a simple word that always knew how to bring the strongest to complete tears.

“goodnight, ‘toru.” you’d murmur, swiftly running your hands through his white tangled strands. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. the calmness of your voice soothed him. cerulean irises stared right back into you before he lets off a soft sigh. his face was so relaxed, he stares into your eyes with his own becoming a bit droopy.

“goodnight,” he’d utter before his eyes briefly closes. “i love you.”

is what you thought he’d say in a moment like this. but even sometimes, reality can be faux. life’s pretty funny, isn’t it.

gojo didn’t like the word ‘goodbye’ simply because it brought back too many hard memories.

he wasn’t one to really explain why, he was more resvered sometimes than anything. he was often too embarrassed to get things off his chest. especially things like this, you did always wonder why though. how sometimes you’d kiss him on the cheek, reaching for the light before uttering off those fatal words of, “goodnight, satoru.”

despite everything though, he always gives you a soft kiss on the lips, murmuring, “sleep well, angel,” instead of goodnight. he’d hold you in his arms, stroking you gently until you fell fast asleep into his arms, where you always belonged.

why was goodnight such an avoidance to gojo’s vocabulary. it was simple, really. a bad experience, a very bad experience actually.

“i don’t like seeing you cry like that,” he’d grumble in a merely defeated voice. he sounded so different, so tired, so … weak. gojo’s voice, it was once so full of life and oh so effervescent. and now, it sounded like he was clinging onto his last and final conclusive breaths—in which he was. “hey, hey. look at me.”

you’d sniffle, glancing at gojo. your eyes were merely blind with your own pathetic tears, everything you saw through your own lens of eyesight was straight blurry. that dumb dorky smile remained plastered on his face despite the circumstances.

the circumstances, gojo satoru had been finally defeated. the strongest, considered as once the strongest, was now lying in your arms, squeezing your wrist as if it’d be the last time he’d touch you. and it would be.

“don’t cry for me. you’re gonna make me cry, silly,” he whispers in a jesting tone, brushing a thumb against the outer part of your hand. you always loved his touch, there was nothing like it. gojo actually for once seemed scared, he was always so good at concealing his emotions—but with you, that was an entire different story.

you could hear the tremble in his voice, his time was rapidly running out, and he just wanted to reassure you, even though perhaps you should have been reassuring him.

“s-satoru,” you’d reply in a shaky voice, you felt an abrupt sharp sting prod through your heart.

you didn’t expect to come to contact with the feeling of heartbreak so soon, but it hit you like a truck. you hated feeling powerless, you couldn’t do anything but just sit here and . . hold his hand.

one … last … time.

“you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and he lifts up your hand, struggling at first. you’re kneeled down beside him as he lies on the floor. a pool of his own defeat starting to fill from underneath him before he kisses the palm of your hand. “i… i want you to promise me something though. can you do that, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply, your grip on his hand only growing tighter. suddenly, the air felt so thick and warm—everything felt so out of place. your ears, both of them rang and rang. there was a sting in your heart and it refused to go away. you were experiencing heartbreak at its finest, in slow slow waves.

gojo inhales, and you watch as his pretty lashes flutter at least twice before he says in the most broken, defeated voice you’ve ever heard.

“promise me,” he starts, and you watched as a tear ran down the corner of his eye. even he knew what his fate was coming to, everything was catching up to him and you were sharing the exact dreading emotion. gojo’s eyes flicker up towards you before he sniffles. “promise me, promise me that you’ll be here when i wake up?”

silence—pure silence was your reply, you didn’t know what to say.

but that pure silence only lasted for about three seconds before you nodded, feeling your own tears start to trickle out the crevices of your eyes. “i promise, i’ll be here, i’m always here, ‘toru,” and with a sob nearly escaping your lips, you whimper out a, “i love you.”

“i love you,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and by now he’s really clinging onto his final breaths.

all gojo could focus on was your face, the tears that swelled up through your eyes. he hated seeing you cry, he truly loathed it. with your fingers interlocked with his, gojo says in a soft broken tone, “goodnight, baby.”

“… goodnight, ‘toru.”

but instead of waking up next to gojo like promised, you woke up alone with his side of the bed empty. then reality hit you, he was already gone.

#★vegasbaby.#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

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eggyrocks · 7 months ago

Text

DRUNK WALK HOME: K. AKAASHI

she is one failing grade away from being kicked out of her university. and as much as he doesn’t want to be, akaashi is there to help.

main masterlist

divider credits to plutism

pairing: akaashi x f!reader

status: ongoing

tags/warnings: enemies to lovers, heavy on the angst, tutor x student, university au, a lot of partying/drinking/use of drugs, mentions of suicide, reader is a hot mess, everyone sucks here, very suggestive, blended smau, everyone sucks here (again bc im worried you didnt see it the first time), flawed characters (like very flawed), grammatical mistakes probably, everyone probably will be out of character, please note warnings may change as story progresses, and to check each chapter for individual warnings

taglist: open, complete this form to be added

minors dni & other rules

yn style guide | yn aesthetic | akaashi aesthetic

playlist by @kiyokostan

INTRODUCTIONS: roommates from hell | joker cosplayers | girls who should be given guns

PROLOGUE: rejection

CHAPTER ONE: morning after

CHAPTER TWO: outline

INTERMISSION: faces

INTERMISSION (cont.): names

CHAPTER THREE: conclusion

CHAPTER FOUR: structure

CHAPTER FIVE: revisions

CHAPTER SIX: diversions

CHAPTER SEVEN: introductions

CHAPTER EIGHT: mistakes

CHAPTER NINE: corrections

CHAPTER TEN: coming soon

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basketball-lesbians · 3 months ago

Text

Freefall

summary: The thing about Paige and Azzi is they were never any good at staying away from each other. Even when they really should.

The fwb pazzi fic that quite literally nobody asked for but I’m providing anyway.

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff occasionally if you squint, fwb, cheating

disclaimer:

As the story progresses, some of this will be out of character for Paige, especially with Azzi (she's lowkey an asshole at times in this storyline). There is cheating in this fic (NOT between Paige and Azzi), I don't condone it, but I did write it. I literally just wrote this because I could not get the prompt out of my head and bc I think it’s hot, lol. None of this has been beta’d, please do not repost/distribute anywhere else. Hope you enjoy these silly gay bitches being obsessed w each other :)

—

It was something they’d fought about a thousand times: the impending end of their time together at UCONN, whether Azzi would declare, how they would manage being thrust into being a long distance relationship again- if the cards fell that way.

Each time they’d fought about it, they would inevitably come to a resolution that it wasn’t worth stressing about before they had to- that they should treasure the moments they had left and live in the moment while it lasted. No matter how much that conclusion equally made Azzi’s stomach turn, ever the over-thinker, Paige would soothe her with that sweet, gentle voice she reserved for only her, and brush her loose curls behind her ear as she pressed sweet kisses to her face, and Azzi would let it go.

This time though, they hadn’t had such luck. They’d been arguing ahead of the season starting for an hour- loud enough that it echoed off the walls of the shared apartment, leading Ice and the other girls to take it as a sign and leave to give them privacy.

“No Paige, you’re not listening to me!” Azzi shouts, tears welling in her eyes as she flings her hands in a gesture of frustration that shows her desperation.

“How the fuck am I not listening to you?” Paige bites back defensively, her tone hot with anger. At that, Azzi scoffs, turning around to wipe the tears from her eyes harshly. The site of her back turned as she sniffles and wipes her face clearly melts away at Paige’s resolve, and it’s quiet for a ten count before her voice softens. “Baby, we’ve been at this for an hour.” She says, clearly exasperated.

“No. For months.” Azzi corrects pointedly, turning on her heel to meet Paige’s gaze. Her voice is unsteady, but the words are sharp and sure. There’s sincerity behind it, and they both know the implications of what she’s saying as it settles into the room.

It hangs heavy in the air between them, but neither of them manages to address it, just staring at each other. “And we’re no closer to resolving it.” It slips from her lips before she really thinks about it, and even though she means it, she feels bad as soon as she says it. She knows it was a low blow, speaking something aloud that so evidently assigned blame to Paige’s career.

Paige’s frame suddenly seems small in the low lighting of the room. She stares at the ground midway between them, not quite bold enough to look Azzi right in the face. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Azzi.” She mutters, defeated.

Azzi nods, wetting her lips. She would never ask Paige to choose her over her career, in any capacity. As teenagers, they’d conspired dreams about how they’d play together in college, spend every day together in practice and win championships before declaring for the draft and entering the league together. Azzi had finished college in 3 years just so they could stay in the same class.

But life hadn’t quite worked out that way. Yes, they’d both gotten to UCONN. They’d even gotten as close to a championship as the final four, more than once. But in three years, they’d only played 17 games together, injuries always getting in the way.

Now, almost a year after her second ACL tear, Azzi was close to coming back- this time, hopefully more permanently. But Paige was expected to declare after the end of her fifth year of playing at UCONN, her eligibility to stay in college gone, and nobody- including herself- was sure if the time was right for Azzi to declare, having missed so much play time throughout her collegiate career.

She knew the importance that getting to the league held to Paige. To both of them. She would never want to put herself before that. She did wish, though, that just for once, Paige would at least admit that the tensions that declaring brought with it were causing issues between them.

Really what she wishes is that she would hold her and apologize for the stress it caused, and promise that she would still be her priority, no matter where the draft took her. But Paige, ever so stubborn and never one to take blame if she didn’t have to, had yet to do so.

“You know what? Nevermind. I don’t know why I even brought it up.” Azzi grumbles, reaching for her sweatshirt that was slung over the back of Paige’s desk chair.

“Hey,” Paige says in protest, stepping toward her to grab her hand. “Paige, please.” Azzi sighs, glancing at their hands together before meeting the blonde’s eyes, glossy with tears. They share a pained look, but neither of them says anything. Paige drops her hand as Azzi reaches for her bedroom door. “I’ll see you at practice.” She says, closing the door behind her.

—

To make matters worse, when her alarm goes off the next morning, Azzi discovers that in her overly tired and emotional state after coming back from Paige’s, she’d set her alarm for 45 minutes after what she normally would to get ready for practice. She groans as she wakes up, rolling over to pick up her phone, turning off the alarm.

When she sees the time, she throws the blankets off, scrambling to her feet. She pulls her bonnet off and tosses it to her bedside table, grabbing a hair-tie left behind by Paige and pulling her curls back as fast as she can. Nearly falling over as she pulls on a pair of sweats and a hoodie she's pretty sure is her girlfriends', she rushes into the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth, splashing cold water on her face in a desperate effort to wake herself up, not bothering to look at her reflection in the mirror.

Of course this would happen to her the day of the first official practice back.

She grabs her practice set and court shoes and tosses them into her duffel along with another change of clothes, quickly grabbing a few hair care products and hygiene items to get ready with after practice before zipping it closed and slinking out the door. She gets down one out of three flights before realizing her keys aren’t in her hand. She groans in frustration, hanging her head in exasperation for a moment before turning around and running back up the flight of stairs she’d just come down, swiping her card to get back into her apartment to grab her keys.

Once she finds them, she rushes back down the stairs a second time, jogging across the walkway into the lot to her jeep as she checks her watch for the time. Shit. There was no way she was making it on time. She tosses her bag into the backseat before climbing into the drivers seat, and when she does, she’s instantly met with the realization that Paige was the last person to drive her car- she’d taken it for an oil change over the weekend because Azzi had studying she’d needed to do.

It’s evident in the way that her seat is slightly further back to account for Paige’s long legs, the smell of her cologne still barely in the air, and finally, when the engine turns over, the way that the speakers are turned to full volume once her phone resyncs to the audio system.

She flinches, partially at how bad she feels for picking a fight with Paige last night and partially at how loud the music comes through the speakers. She cranks the dial down after nearly jumping out of her skin, reversing out of her parking spot and out of the lot, probably a little bit faster than she should.

—

She pulls into the practice facility and manages a parking job she’s sure she’ll hear about in the team group chat later before speed walking inside, her bag hitting her knee awkwardly every other step. She swipes herself into the facility and immediately rushes to the team room and then to the changing rooms, throwing on her practice set and pulling out her shoes to walk to the courts. She tries to slink into the gym without being noticed, but the girls are already running drills across the court, so there’s nothing to distract CD from clocking her as soon as she rounds the corner.

Azzi offers an apologetic smile, and for a second she actually thinks that the pathetic look on her face might have spared her from a lecture when CD’s expression softens as she looks at her, but then she hears it. Geno’s loud voice booms across the gym- calling her out in front of the entire team and staff.

“Azzi Fudd! How nice of you to make an appearance.” He chides, hands wide as he makes a big gesture at her in disbelief, walking towards her. She nods, dropping her court shoes to the floor, slipping her slides off to change into them. “I know- I’m so sorry,” She acknowledges, not bothering to provide an excuse, because she knows by now how their coaching staff feels about them.

“Mmm. Just decided since you aren’t fully cleared you don’t need to be here?” He asks sharply, and even though she knows he doesn’t actually think that about her, and that he’s just annoyed and trying to prove a point, it still stings. “No, I-“

She stops herself, knowing she’s getting emotional and about to launch into a defensive explanation for no reason. It was a shitty feeling right now, but he’ll forget about it before the week’s out. “No excuse, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

Even though he’s barely taller than her, she feels small as he looks at her intently. “Better not. Get your mind right, kid.” She nods, kneeling down to tie her shoe. He turns away from her, spurring the girls on the court into switching to another drill.

CD takes his place next to her, leaning over slightly so she can hear her without her having to raise her voice. “Brush it off. Lynn’s waiting for you in the team room,” She says, patting Azzi on the back as she stands up.

She nods, smoothing a hand over her hair as she offers a small smile in response. Subconsciously, her eyes scan the group of girls on the court for Paige as she walks back out of the gym, although she hears her before her eyes actually find her.

“Box out, box out! You can’t leave him open like that!” She yells to the underclassmen as she runs under the basket to rebound a shot thrown up by one of the practice players, dribbling it back outside the key and retaking the possession. Azzi smiles to herself slightly at that, walking under the banner that hangs over the doors on her way out.

Paige’s gaze finds Azzi’s figure walking out as she resets, closing in on the three point line. She pump fakes the practice player thats guarding her and pivots hard to the left, losing him fully, before coming up for a wide open jumpshot three.

Azzi’s already turned the corner and walked out of the gym by the time the ball leaves her shooting hand, but her eyes still come back to the doorway to look for her. When she doesn’t find her there, her gaze snaps back to the hoop. The shot bounces off the shooting square of the backboard, rolling around the lip of the rim tantalizingly before tipping out of the basket. Miss.

—

Paige wrings her hair out with her towel, the material of the dri-fit shirt she’d pulled on sticking to her back with her movements. The chatter from the other girls that would usually fill the locker room is non-existent this morning, Paige having stayed significantly late after practice to get extra shots up and talk to Geno.

The stress of this season was already weighing on her, but she was determined to rise to the occasion and use this season, her last, to get the Huskies to championship number 12. She’d always had a chip on her shoulder, but this year, with all the media speculation and attention, she was committed to showing up and showing out- to do what she came here to do.

No matter what the cost was. It was something she needed to prove to herself.

She sighs, hanging up the towel into her locker, and drops her hygiene bag into the open drawer of her locker, nudging it shut with her hip.

She barely hears when Azzi enters the locker room from the team room, shower kit in hand to head to where Paige had just emerged from.

“Hey,” Azzi says, a quiet start to a conversation they both know is going to feel like ripping off a bandaid. Paige nods at her, lifting a hand under her shirt to apply deodorant. Azzi’s eyes briefly skim the exposed section of taut midriff that flashes before her shirt falls back to cover it again. “Hey. Didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, um. Stayed back for some cupping.” She shifts her clothes and shower kit between her hands awkwardly, lingering in place solely to talk to the other girl, who’s nodding along as she combs through her drawer, evidently looking for something specific.

“Talked with Lynn a little bit about the conversations I’ve been having with Carl,” She says, a touch of hopefulness in her voice evident at the mention of her recovery timeline.

Paige offers a slight smile at that, running lotion over her hands and face. “That’s good,” She says, pulling a hoodie on over her t-shirt. “You wanna get breakfast after you shower, talk about last night?” She asks, finally turning to look at Azzi fully.

Azzi doesn’t miss the way her tone is just a little short, her expression tense, like she’s holding back from her. She hates when she gets like this after they fight- understands it, but hates it, nonetheless.

“I have class after this,” She reminds her gently- a byproduct of the fact that Azzi had chosen in person classes while Paige had adamantly tried to keep the both of their schedules as fully online as possible.

Paige purses her lips slightly and nods, reaching for her bag. “Right. Okay,” She says, putting her shoes in the top of her locker and tidying up her space. “Well, I guess lemme know when you have time to talk, then.”

“Paige, hey.” Paige looks up, pulling her backpack over her shoulder. “What’s up?” She asks, her voice almost impatient, like she's waiting for Azzi to finish her thought so she can leave.

“I-“ Her voice falters, not sure of what to say. After not interacting at all since their fight last night, Azzi wasn’t sure what to say.

She thought they’d both soften by the time they talked about it, and maybe they had- but an immediate rejection the second that Paige offered to talk definitely hadn’t helped. Now she was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out a way to walk that back before Paige walked out of the room.

“I finish with classes at 4. Do you wanna meet at my apartment?” Paige frowns. “We were gonna go to the women’s soccer game tonight, we talked about it in practice.” She says flatly.

Azzi nods, pretending it didn’t sting that the season had literally barely started and she’d already been left out of team conversations due to being benched. “Okay. After that?”

Paige sighs, pulling her phone out of her pocket when it starts ringing. “Shit. It’s Brittany, I gotta take this.”

Azzi draws her bottom lip between her teeth and raises her eyebrows, nodding. “Okay.” She says as Paige walks past her and towards the door.

She turns to acknowledge Azzi as she passes at least, which softens the blow.

“Sorry for not telling you about the soccer thing, it was an impromptu idea that got brought up this morning. You’re obviously invited,” She says, before drawing her thumb across the screen and pulling her phone to her ear.

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” Azzi calls after her, and Paige throws a pointer finger up in acknowledgment as she walks out.

So much for talking about it.

—

She gets ready quickly after her shower, not liking how quiet the facility was when the whole team wasn’t there, filling it with buzzing energy and a love for the game.

She pulls her hair back and makes faces at herself in the mirror for a minute before heading to her locker and putting away the gear she kept at the facility, packing up the rest in her duffel.

She pulls her phone and keys out of her bag, looking at her phone for the first time since she’d gotten to the facility. Really, for the first time since she’d been awake, what with the way she’d woken up.

She unlocks her phone and navigates to messages, where she sees 5 unread messages from Paige. Furrowing her brows, she opens their pinned conversation.

Paige Madison 💗:

12:07am: Hey, I’m sorry about tonight. Can I come up?

12:22am: I love you, Az

1:12am: U still tryna ride w me to practice?

4:45am: Should I wait for you or nah?

5:20am: Yo, you good? Getting worried now.

Azzi sighs, running her free hand over her face, frustrated. No wonder she was short with her this morning.

She probably thought she had ignored her all night, and as soon as she’d asked her to go with her to get breakfast and talk this morning, Azzi had turned her down. If Azzi knew anything about Paige from the last 7 years, it was that she hated feeling rejected.

Feeling guilty, she types out a response.

9:11am: I’m so sorry, I just saw this. I went straight to sleep and then overslept this morning

9:11am: I’m okay. I’m sorry if I worried you

Then, after a beat:

9:13am: I love you too

—

Collegiate soccer games are 90 minutes, divided into two 45 minute halves. Azzi knows this because she googled it. Twice.

The soccer game had started at 5:30, and Azzi had too much homework to go, which she’d texted to the team chat. Ice had tried to drag her with her on her way out the door, but Azzi held her ground, knowing she needed to stay on top of her coursework as the season ramped up, or she’d regret it later.

The girls complained in the groupchat at her absence, which made her feel a little less bad, but Paige had largely not acknowledged her since their tense conversation in the locker room- aside from a response to the messages Azzi had sent when she finally looked at her phone this morning.

Paige Madison 💗

9:43am: All g. Lmk if you still wanna talk after the game

So she’d texted back after her class-

11:12am: Ofc. I just have some hw I’ll be working on but I’ll be at home after my class ends at 4

And although Paige had heart reacted to it, Azzi was still feeling a bit uneasy about the whole thing.

Now it was 8:24, and Azzi’s done the math- even accounting for timeouts, substitutions, and a break at half, and even if they went into overtime, it’s getting late.

There’s nothing in the chat about the game going long or traffic being bad or something coming up- so even though she tries to assure herself it’s nothing, she’s slowly becoming convinced that it’s definitely something.

—

When the group finally comes barreling through the door, Azzi’s moved to her bed to be more comfortable, giving up on trying to stay up. She isn’t sure what time it is, but she knows it’s late enough for her to be justified in being bothered.

She goes to check her phone. 1:41am, and still no texts from Paige. Nice.

The girls erupt in laughter in the living room, and she hears Paige’s voice amongst them. “Yo, yo. Shut up, f’real. You’re acting dumb as fu-“ Her words are cut off by very obviously running her shin into something- Azzi would assume the ottoman she left sticking out.

For a second, she almost feels bad. Almost.

“Ohhhh, fuck me.” Paige groans out loudly, and then there's what sounds like her jumping on one foot to hold her leg.

The other girls cackle at her obnoxiously, and Azzi huffs, resolving to get out of bed so all the girls make it to theirs safely. She switches on the light in her room, pulling her robe on, and the way she can hear the girls scatter at the sound makes her feel like she’s somebody’s mother.

She pulls her door open, and Ice is laying on the floor clutching at her stomach in laughter while she watches Paige nurse her leg leaning against the wall. She hears Morgan giggling somewhere on the couch, and the smell of liquor coming off of the trio does not impress her at all.

She stands with her hands on her hips just outside the living room, staring at Ice. Ice giggles anxiously when she sees her, scooting across the floor and away from her.

“Isuneh,” Azzi warns, walking toward her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She laughs out, clearly picking up on Azzi’s agitation, despite being inebriated to the extent that she is.

“We should have texted- the girls won, like totally kicked Boston’s ass, and they wanted to go to Ted’s with us, so…” She trails off, and Azzi sighs, turning to find the other two in the dimly lit room.

Morgan, to her credit, seems the least drunk out of the three of them, but she’s entirely too bubbly considering that it’s nearly midnight on a monday.

Azzi gestures towards Morgan, not acknowledging Paige yet. The tension it adds to the room is palpable. “Do you need help getting to bed?” Azzi asks, a gentle lilt in her voice despite being annoyed.

She wasn’t trying to ruin the freshman’s fun just because she was having a bad day. Morgan shakes her head, standing slightly unsteadily.

Azzi sighs, leaning down to grab Ice’s hands and pull her up and lean her against the couch. “Get some sleep,” She says to Morgan. “Pain meds are in the cabinet above the coffee maker, I’ll make sure there’s food in the morning.”

Morgan smiles nervously at her, her posture small. “Thanks, Az,” She whispers, and Azzi nods at her, offering a small smile back.

Ice slumps into Azzi’s shoulder, giggling again. Azzi hits her shoulder, only slightly playfully. “You should know better, Isuneh,”

She scolds, pushing her back against the couch again so she can swing an arm beneath hers and get her to her bedroom.

“It’s a frikin' Monday night.” She says incredulously, mostly to herself.

Ice laughs at that before groaning, reaching for her stomach. “No, no, no,” She rushes to get out. Azzi cranes her neck to look at her.

“What?” She asks, and Ice gags. Azzi winces, saying a silent prayer that nothing comes up, and that if it does, it somehow manages to avoid her.

Ice drops her weight back towards the couch and out of Azzi’s reach. “Don’t move me, just let me die here.” She says dramatically, and Azzi makes a face, staring at her for a moment, calculating.

She sighs, picking up her feet and putting her fully on the couch. She walks to the closet just outside the living room and pulls out a blanket, fanning it out over Ice so she can at least hopefully get comfortable and sleep this off.

She feels Paige’s gaze on her, but she makes no effort to acknowledge it. She walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, bringing it back to the drunken girl sprawled out on the couch. “Here,” She says, holding out the glass in one hand and two aspirin in the other.

“You’re gonna wanna get ahead of this before the morning,” She says when Ice stares at her blankly. “I don’t know if I can even swallow that,” Ice slurs, trying to sit up and missing when she tries to plant her arm, nearly dropping off the side of the couch and into Azzi’s leg.

She grimaces, leaning out of the contact, and resettles Ice onto the cushions. “Come on. Take this and I’ll let you sleep.” Ice sighs loudly, reaching for the pills and taking them from Azzi’s hand.

The glass, however, she simply presses her lips to, rather than taking it from Azzi’s hand.

“Oh my god,” Azzi mutters, tilting the glass slowly so the water flows into Ice’s mouth. She swallows loudly, opening her mouth wide after the fact to show off that the pills were gone.

Azzi chuckles to herself. “Very nice,” She credits, pulling the blanket over the taller girl once she settles back on the couch.

Ice sighs, bringing the blanket to her chin. “Thanks, crazy Azzi. Don’t have too much fun with Paigey-Waigey. I’ll be able to hear it from here.” She giggles, wagging her finger at Azzi suggestively. Azzi rolls her eyes, taking the glass back to the kitchen. As if.

She walks back through the living room and Paige is already looking at her, her hand still over her shin. Azzi sighs. “Are you okay?” She asks, gesturing loosely at her leg.

Paige nods, her eyes obviously tired, and moves to try and stand, using the wall for aid. Azzi comes slightly closer, so if she falls she’d be able to catch her, and watches her carefully. “‘M fine, Az. I’m not even that drunk.” She defends, and Azzi rolls her eyes yet again.

“Right.” She says. Paige clears her throat, awkward, using the opportunity of being braced against the wall to catch her breath. “Do you need the couch or can you make it downstairs?” Azzi asks, and Paige furrows her eyebrows.

“Oh. Uh,” She pauses, looking around. Azzi swallows. She’d obviously planned to stay with her tonight.

The assumption that she would stay with Azzi would be sweet if she hadn’t left her hanging for hours, not texted, and then shown up drunk at midnight on a weeknight- if she hadn’t said they could talk tonight, and then completely stood her up. But she did.

“Come on. You probably wouldn’t make it down those stairs in once piece anyway.” She grumbles, grabbing Paige’s arm and guiding her to her bedroom. Paige starts to protest, but quickly drops it.

The younger girl makes sure Paige gets to the bed, and then turns to close the bedroom door. She pulls her robe off and drapes it back over her desk chair, Paige’s eyes tracking her movements intently.

“You look good, mama,” Paige draws, and Azzi scoffs. “Absolutely not, Paige Madison.” She clears, walking towards the bed, deliberate in staying out of Paige’s reach.

Paige’s eyebrows draw up in surprise, and Azzi stares at her incredulously, her clueless reaction making frustration flash in her chest.

“What? Did you drink so much you forgot we were supposed to talk?” Azzi asks, unable to help herself, and as soon as she says it, she regrets it.

She knows better than that, she should have waited until tomorrow to do this. It’s only going to cost them both sleep, and Paige probably won’t even remember it in a few hours.

Paige breathes heavily, leaning forward so her forearms are braced against her quads as she leans over, feet square on the ground. “Fuck, Az. ‘M sorry,”

Azzi bites at the inside of her cheek, weighing whether or not to engage further. “Seriously, Paige? What, you just spaced it?” Paige winces when she raises her voice. “No, I-“ She stops, holding her head.

She looks up at Azzi, squinting, even just from the normal lighting in her room. “We went out for dinner and a couple of drinks. I meant to text you, honest. We got caught up and…” She trails off, and Azzi’s mouth goes dry.

“And what, Paige?” She asks. The blonde groans next to her. “I’on even know,” She complains, hanging her head, and in any other situation, Azzi would sympathize more and pull her under the blankets, play with her hair and let her fall asleep on her chest.

But right now, tears are brimming her eyes and she can’t even bring herself to touch her hand. “You couldn’t even muster the presence of mind to have somebody else text? Or, god forbid, you couldn’t have just made it a priority to get back to me so we could have this stupid conversation?”

Paige's eyebrows furrow, looking up at her. “Wh’d’you mean, stupid conversation? If it’s about us and it’s important, how is it stupid?”

Azzi purses her lips, beyond frustrated that she can pick a fight over minced words but won’t actually address the problem that’s been hanging over them for months. “You tell me, Paige. You’re the one who couldn’t make it a priority.”

“I’m sorry, Az. You gotta understand, dude, I got a lot going on, and I was already upset-" Azzi laughs at that, throwing her hands up.

“You were upset? Paige, you barely even talked to me today. And then you stood me up when we were finally supposed to actually talk.”

“Whoa, you started the “barely talking” thing. You didn’t even answer my texts til practice was over the next morning.” Paige says, scooting back in the bed to lean against the wall and get further from Azzi. “Yeah, because I fell asleep. I told you that.” Azzi argues.

“Okay, well I tried to talk with you earlier, and you were too busy.” Paige stabs back. “No, Paige, I wasn’t “too busy”. I had classes. Classes I am trying to stay on top of so that you and I can have time together outside of the season and actually enjoy the last year we have together before who fucking knows what happens!”

Paige laughs. “Dude, you think I don’t understand that? That’s why I tried to get as many online classes as possible. You’re making me out to be this villain who like, doesn’t wanna be around you or something, and that’s not fuckin’ true. I’m trying so hard to be on top of classes and be a good leader for the team and keep myself in a good position to get to the league-“ Azzi cuts her off cold.

“Exactly, Paige! It’s always about the league. Your priority is always the league. And I get that that’s your dream- it’s my dream too. But fuck, Paige. It’s gonna fucking happen either way. You’ve been projected as first pick for over a year. We could bomb all season long and it wouldn’t matter- you’re getting to the W. I wish you could admit that it’s such a fucking given and focus on literally anything else for one goddamn minute.”

Paige scoffs, standing up, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. "Yes, Azzi, the league is my priority." She stares at the other girl dubiously, like she's trying to figure out why the hell that's coming as a shock. "If you don't understand that, maybe we're not doing what I thought we were doing here," She rushes out, gesturing loosely between them.

Her words send Azzi's head spinning, so much that she barely hears the next words out of her mouth.

"Going pro is everything we ever talked about. Getting drafted is foundational to the fucking life we always planned on. You being injured and not knowing when you’re declaring is fucking complicated and it weighs on you, I know. I’m sorry if you feel like I don’t focus on that enough." Anger rises in Azzi's throat at that, but Paige is quick to resume her point, not giving her a chance to verbalize it.

"It's not that I don’t care- but that only adds to the importance of me getting my foot in the door to ensure we have a good fucking life set up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Azzi mutters, looking at the blonde in disbelief. "What, you think because I’m too fucking fragile you need to get into the league so we can ensure a paycheck?"

Her eyes sting as tears begin to well, threatening to fall. "You think I’m that incapable? That weak?" She asks, looking up at Paige from where she sits on the bed, her voice breaking.

Paige sighs, working her jaw, resolve clearly fractured by Azzi’s reaction. “No, Azzi, that’s not what I-“

“You have that little faith in my future?” Azzi asks, drawing into herself as she leans against her headboard, her arms crossing over her chest. Tears run over and fall down her face now, bottom lip quivering in a way that makes Paige’s stomach churn.

Paige moves to get closer to her, her movements still a little bit sluggish, despite how much the argument had sobered her up. “No, baby, hey-“ She reaches for her hand, and Azzi quickly pulls away, shoving at her to put distance between them.

Paige is taken aback, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “Whoa, hey,” She says, trying to soothe the other girl, but Azzi is inconsolable. She hasn’t felt this betrayed, this misconstrued since she was a child. She had definitely not ever felt this way by Paige’s hand, and she didn’t think she ever would.

The self doubt and concern about coming back from this injury was something that weighed on her constantly- and she’d gotten good at hiding it, sure. Sometimes she was so good she even almost fooled herself.

But it was there. It lived deep in her chest, a voice that spoke to her every time she missed a shot in the gym she knew she should have made.

It kept her awake at night, even with Paige’s body pressed against hers, sound asleep. It was the reason she spent so much time wondering if she was even good enough to make it to the league at all- if she’d even deserved to come to UCONN, if she’d pulled her weight since being there.

Although the comment the other girl had made about their relationship maybe “not doing what she’d thought” had hurt, the mere thought of Paige questioning her abilities made her want to crawl into a hole and die.

“Azzi, that is not what I was trying to say,” Paige promises, leaning closer to try and get Azzi to focus on her rather than whatever thoughts she was quite evidently spinning in her head.

“Hey, look at me, Az,” Paige tries again, reaching to touch her face. Azzi flinches away from the contact, wiping at her face furiously. “Just go.” She says, sniffling as she leans away from the blonde.

Paige watches her with her mouth just barely open, unable to come up with a response. “Wh- don’t you think we need to talk about this?” She tries, but the other girls’ mind is made up, withdrawn from the conversation.

“I don’t wanna argue with you anymore, Paige. Just go, I’m serious.” She says, her voice small. Paige sighs, running her hands over her face.

She can’t just leave when Azzi looks so sad like this. "Come on, Az." She pleads. “That’s not what I meant, can we just-“

“Paige, I want to be left alone. Can we please just not?” Azzi croaks, pulling a pillow over her chest and furthering the barriers between the two girls. The blonde wets her lips, starting to reply and then stopping, not sure where to pivot from here.

“It’s not like it matters, anyway.” Azzi mutters, wiping at her nose. Paige’s expression drops, eyebrows knitting together as she looks at the other girl.

“Doesn’t matter? To who? What is that even supposed to mean?” She asks, hurt rising in her chest.

Azzi looks up at her, her eyes puffy from crying, her expression exhausted. “Come on, Paige. We’ve been arguing over this for months, we’re not going to magically stumble upon a solution tonight.” She says, her voice scratchy- and Paige can’t tell if its from being tired or from crying. “You’re not even sober.”

Paige stares at her, indignant at the suggestion that she wasn’t sober enough to defend her career and fight for their relationship. If Azzi was going to take dirty hits, she wasn’t going to let what she’d said go.

“Who does it not matter to, Azzi?” She repeats. Azzi narrows her eyes, scoffing at the blonde in disbelief. “I’m not doing this with you right now.” She states, getting off the bed and walking across the room to put distance between them.

Paige follows suit, getting to her feet and standing behind her, refusing to let her walk away. "I asked you a question.” She states, insistent, and Azzi turns around, adamant brown eyes meeting stubborn blue.

“No, Paige.” She says firmly. Her inflexible tone only ramps the blonde up further. “What do you mean, “no”? We’re having a conversation.”

“Not anymore, we’re not." She shuts her down simply. "Azzi." Paige prompts.

"You know I don’t like when you get like this.” Azzi says, staring daggers at her before pushing past to get around her. “Azzi.”

Paige turns her body with the movement and grabs for her wrist. Azzi pulls away hard, like her flesh is burning in the blonde’s grip. “No, Paige. I’m done. Go home.”

Frustrated tears fall silently down her pale cheeks, and she wipes at them with the back of her hand, only irritated further by their presence.

“You’re ‘done’?” She asks, incredulous, a scoff ripping its way up from the back of her throat. Loose strands of blonde hair that came undone from her bun throughout the drunken activities of the night frame the desperate look on her face.

Azzi crosses her arms, keeping distance between them. “I’m serious, Paige. Go.” She repeats, and Paige wants to scream. Her mind is moving too fast and too slow at the same time- she doesn’t know if she should storm out, raise her voice, or drop to her knees and beg Azzi to let her stay and try and make up.

As soon as that mental image crosses her mind, anger flashes in her chest at the fact she’d thought it in the first place. She hadn’t even done anything wrong aside from getting drunk when she shouldn't have. Why was she being crucified for trying to make a life for them?

Was she the only one who’d meant it all the times they’d talked about getting to the league, building a family, and living on the coast?

The anger in her chest bubbles over, and she can’t even see straight. “You know what, Azzi? Fine. Maybe its better off that way, anyway. We both could stand to lock in this year, without any distractions.” She spits.

Before Azzi can get her mouth to open, she's closing the door behind herself- and then she's gone.

Hey y’all! Here's a little something I've been working on. This is part 1 of multiple, idk how many yet. This chapter is really just to set up the rest of the story- the rest from here on out will be a lot more fun, I promise. This was not beta’d at all, so be warned! Any comments/shares/love is sooo appreciated. Thank you and I really hope you guys enjoy!

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #az35 #uconn cwbb #uconnwbb #wbb

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