how do you manage your wips? do you find writing to be stressful?
I find finishing a fic to be the hardest, especially if you've already started it a while back. I've had so many ideas and I can easily start a fic, but finishing it has always been difficult for me.
I also have a tendency to hold myself back. I want to post the stuff I already have finished but then I think "shouldn't I just finish that fic I said i'd post weeks ago" then I find myself staring at it and I have nothing, like all my past ideas for how the fic should go dissipated, I quit, then I'm back to square one.
Writing isn't stressful, I find it to be a great way to relax, listen to music, and use your imagination, but I just manage to make it stressful for myself.
ALSO: sorry for not posting :( College be smacking me lol
Pairing ⋆˚࿔ : SugarDaddy!Stephen Curry x Reader Warnings ⋆˚࿔ : NSFW 18+ , unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, suggestion to explicit photos, Word Count ⋆˚࿔ : 1k
Authors Note ⋆˚࿔ :
Hiiiiiii, ive been dragging my feet lately and haven't gotten to finishing my other stuff, but this has been rotting in my drafts so might as well post it! i hope to post one of your requests this weekend! Hope you guys enjoy, Much love and kisses <33333 divider by @/dividers-are-us
SugarDaddy!Steph who always looks forward to your open ears after a game, win or loss, he always crams in a facetime, even if he’s sweaty and haven’t even left the arena yet. "Missed you tonight, Tell me about your day?" his voice is hoarse from yelling all night.
SugarDaddy!Steph is the type of guy to send flowers ‘just cause’. Always paired with a little note like.
“Always thinking of you. 𝒮.”
SugarDaddy!Steph who is so sweet, he just loves to see his girl spoiled—he doesn’t expect anything in return, except for that bright smile of yours.
SugarDaddy!Steph who loves when you send him pictures of the clothes he bought for you.
“I knew that would look good on you.”
“You look amazing.” Eyes trailing over your figure as you do a spin in the dressing room, your phone propped up against the bench.
“You think?” You chirp back brightly, bending down to pick up the phone again. “Course you do. You gonna show me that black one?”
SugarDaddy!Steph who never had any problems paying:
You: i wanna get my nails done
Steph💗: sent $500
Steph💗: Call me when you get them done.
Steph💗: I wanna see
SugarDaddy!Steph who gotten a bracelet for you. which had arrived in the early afternoon.
Unraveling the delicate ribbon to a small velvet black box, and there it was. a dainty chain bracelet that caught the sunlight through your apartment windows. on closer inspection, there’s a small engraving on the inside part of the clasp, a scripted ‘SC’. A subtle metal kiss to your wrist, no matter how far he may be.
You snap a quick photo, also showing off your fresh set.
You: 1 Attachment
You: thinking about youuu 💕
Steph💗: Looks better than I imagined.
Steph💗: Wear it tonight? Dinner at 8. I’ll pick you up.
SugarDaddy!Steph who would high key out of you palm, but how could he resist you? Everything about you was so intoxicating and he felt like an addict who couldn’t wait to get enough. You adored the attention he gave you, the devotion.
SugarDaddy!Steph who never had to beg you like a pathetic dog to see you, cause why would you do that to him when he treats you so well. (even though it’s so hot to hang him out to dry) so you always send him various selfies and updates throughout your day, which he happens to have a small folder on his phone dedicated to all his favorites (pretty much every photo)
Of course his folder has a secret sub-folder, cause they’re for his eyes only—that contains those photos. (he asked you if it was okay for him to save the photos)
SugarDaddy!Steph is all about the worship, the praise. He undresses you article by article of clothing, murmuring "so fucking beautiful" against your skin, kissing every new inch.
"So good for me"
"Taking me so deep fuck."
"Love how wet you get just thinking about me"
SugarDaddy!Steph who never complained when you showed appreciation in different ways.. “You’re so good to me.” You smile against his skin. “You’re good to me.” He flips you suddenly, but gentle.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing hard. “Can I take this off?” You nod, lifting your arms then your hips. He peels your clothes off, eyes fawning over each revealed sight.
No bra underneath. just the lacy thong he sent last week with a note
‘For when you’re thinking of me.’
His thumb brushes over the damp spot already there.“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So wet for me already.” You shiver when he hooks the fabric to the side, fingers sliding through, spreading the slickness up to your clit.
He circles it with the pad of his thumb, watching your face the whole time. Your head collapses against the pillow cushions, your voice a broken rasp “Steph-”
“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” He lowers his head, breath hot against you, then licks one long, flat stripe from your entrance to your clit. You arch, hand flying to his hair. He groans against you, his tongue working in slow circles, then flicking quick and light until your thighs shake.
When he frees himself. thick, heavy, flushed dark at the tip—he strokes once, twice, eyes remained locked on yours. Steph stutters out, “You sure, baby? We can just-”
“I’m sure.” You reach for him, guiding him to your entrance. “Want to feel you.” After taking one last glance at you, he finally pushes in slowly—inch by inch, letting you adjust, bending forward to press his forehead into yours.
The stretch is perfect, filling you so full—reducing you down to gasp. He stills when he’s buried deep, breathing scruffy and hoarse . “God, you feel-” He stops, opting to kiss you instead. “So good. So perfect.”
He starts moving, slow rolls at first, grinding deep, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. Every thrust out like a tease, his hips pressing yours into the mattress. His hand then find yours, interlocking tightly in to yours— thumb brushing over the bracelet again and again, coinciding with each thrust.
“Look at me,” he whispers when your eyes flutter shut. “i wanna see you.”
Your eyes flutter open and he bites his lip, he then speeds up just enough, hips snapping deeper, the wet sound of him sliding in and out filling the room along with the hoarse moans “Steph—m’gonna—”
“Yeah, baby. cmon. Come on my cock, let me feel you.” Your back aching instinctively, nails digging into his shoulders, crying out his name. He fucks you through it, drawing it out until your legs are shaking and oversensitive.
He follows right after —hips stuttering, burying deep as he spills inside you with a broken moan. His face presses into your neck, inhaling that perfume that infected his brain and soul. for a long minute.
When he finally pulls out with slowness and care, he kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, the kiss almost a plead .“Stay tonight?” he asks quietly.
and i mean this genuinely from the bottom of my heart, fuck any of you who support what ice is doing right now and i don’t want anyone who supports that shit on my page. if you genuinely believe that it is justified for ice to break into people’s homes in minneapolis and rip them from their families, NATIVE AMERICANS FROM THE OGLALA SIOUX TRIBE MIND YOU, i do not want your support.
Just wanted to make a thank you post for all the kind comments in my inbox! I really appreciate all the love it keeps me posting <33 And as for all the requests i have 2 I'm working on!
Synopsis ⋆˚࿔ : Austin never wanted to publicly date you, so you stopped hooking up with him and cut contact. Someone gets your time, now he can't stand it
Pairing ⋆˚࿔ : Austin Reaves x reader Warnings ⋆˚࿔ : NSFW 18+ P in v, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, hate sex, slut-shaming & degradation, jealousy, ex-friends w/ benefits, Word Count ⋆˚࿔ : 3.2k
Authors Note ⋆˚࿔ : this was requested by honey maple <33 hope you guys enjoy! Request ⋆˚࿔ : Please write a fic where Austin x female reader have hate sex 🫢 Austin gets jealous and so they end up like that
It was muscle memory more than anything—thumb tapping the app while he sprawled back on his couch, TV, and phone lighting up his face in the dim living room. He’d just gotten home, mind half-empty after a long day of the same routine.
He didn’t think about you. hadn't in a while, if he was being honest. You’d ended your little arrangement because he didn’t want to be more than a hookup; you were good friends before it all.
You did hate the way it ended; you liked Austin, but you went about it the wrong way, giving him the wrong idea—that you just wanted to hook up. Sure it was nice, Austin was a good fuck, but you wanted him to be more than that, but he quickly shut that down.
Then your story appeared at the top of his screen.
His thumb slowed before tapping it. He told himself it was nothing—just curiosity, just an old habit, and plus, he hadn’t seen you in a bit. You used to post all the time, it didn’t mean anything. except for when he used to slide up on your posts asking for you to come over.
The story loaded; it was run-of-the-mill, just like he expected. A birthday dinner repost of one of your friends. He scrolled through the photo dump with nonchalance until…
He scrolled to a photo of you leaning against someone in the restaurant booth. A guy. His arm slung casually behind you, your head tilted toward him, smiling like you didn’t have a care in the world.
Austin’s chest tightened before he could stop it.
He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Huh.”
That should’ve been where it ended.
And just tapped through like it hadn’t landed directly in his chest. Like it didn’t feel strange seeing you look that comfortable next to someone else.
‘Doesn’t bother me,’ he thought immediately, ‘Why would it?’
You weren’t his girlfriend. Never had been. He made sure of that. Always had a reason ready at a minute's notice—some bullshit about timing, privacy, pressure, and life being too complicated right now. You’d agreed. Or at least, you hadn’t argued hard enough for him to notice.
So this—whatever this was—shouldn’t matter.
He tossed his phone onto the couch beside him, leaned back, and kept his eyes on the ceiling. Exhaled.
Five seconds passed.
Then ten.
His gaze slid back to the phone without him meaning to, picking it up again—replaying the story this time. Paying closer attention to details he’d glided past before—the way your body angled toward the guy, how relaxed you looked, how your smile didn’t seem forced or performative. It didn’t look like something staged for a story. It looked… easy.
He tried to shove you out of his mind, but every thought was running a million miles a second.
Since when?
Who is that?
He hated how quickly his mind filled in blanks. Hated that his stomach twisted like he’d missed something important—like he’d looked away for one second too long and now someone else had their hands on something he used to reach for whenever he wanted.
You haven’t been around lately. He’d noticed that much but never enough to mention it. Texts dried up. Late-night booty calls stopped coming. He figured you were busy. Or annoyed, you had a tendency to be dramatic. Or doing that thing where you pulled back for a bit before he yanked you back in.
He didn’t think you’d… just move on.
Austin scrubbed a hand over his face, rustling his hair before he replayed the story again, eyes narrowing now, irritation building with every second. The guy looked familiar in a way that bothered him—too comfortable, too close to you. Austin couldn’t place him, which somehow made it worse. If he’d been paying attention—really paying attention, maybe he would’ve known exactly who that was.
But he hadn’t.
Like a kid who never played with the toy until someone else picked it up—suddenly desperate to know why it looked so good in someone else’s hands and why it should be in his instead.
Austin thought it would pass.
That’s what he told himself anyways—that whatever that weird, sharp feeling was would fade once life picked back up again. Practices, games, travel, noise. And you’d just become background static eventually. That’s how it usually worked for him, that everything would just fade into the background of his life.
Except you didn’t disappear.
You showed up everywhere—in the quiet moments, in the dead space of hotel rooms, in the seconds before sleep when his brain had nothing better to fixate on, when he had any moment to himself in silence. He’d catch himself reaching for his phone, thumb hovering over your contact, before remembering you didn’t text like that anymore. That he can’t just call you up anymore; you’ve moved on.
Weeks went by like that.
Life picked up again. He had gone on a road trip with the team, city after city blurring together. Airports. Buses. Late nights and early mornings. He should’ve been too distracted to think about it, but somehow his mind kept circling back to you, every time in a bleak moment of silence. That guy’s arm. Your smile would fade back into light.
He told himself a dozen different versions of what was going on.
“He’s probably jus’ a rebound.”
“Probably just someone she’s messing around with.”
“She’s someone else’s problem now.”
Each thought was meant to calm him down. None of them did—cause he didn’t believe it for a second.
Because what really bothered him wasn’t the idea of you dating someone else, it was how easily you moved on from him.
When he finally got back to LA, the fatigue hit him all at once. His bag landed by the door, keys tossed onto the counter, body heavy with the kind of tired that sank into his bones. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights as he dropped onto the couch.
After a few moments of scrolling through the endless streaming apps and landing on a movie he’s already seen before, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was mindless scrolling out of habit; his brain was turned off when he tapped on Instagram. After a few moments of buffering, his feed loaded, his fingers already swiping down his screen. He saw a glimpse of something in the blur of scrolling, and he quickly backpedaled to see you.
Austin sat up.
His chest tightened.
“Seriously?” he muttered, scrolling despite himself. His eyes tracked every detail like he was looking for proof of something. Like you were doing this for someone else. That someone else had already seen you like this up close.
The idea made his jaw clench. Austin can’t peel his eyes off your figure, your face. He then locked his phone and tossed it onto the cushion beside him. He couldn’t stand to look at that photo any longer. His feet tapped against the hardwood beneath, crossing his arms.
“Fuckin’ joke.” He murmured under his breath.
“It’s not my problem,” he said aloud, like the words might stick better if he heard them. “She can post whatever she wants.”
Standing up abruptly. He paced his living room, dragging a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.
His phone buzzed softly with a notification, and something in him snapped.
Austin stopped pacing.
His gaze drifted to the counter, where his keys sat exactly where he’d left them. Rational thoughts were thrown out the window the second he saw your post.
“You’re not even my problem anymore”, he thought.
That didn’t stop his hand from reaching out.
He grabbed the keys, the cold key fob against his palm, which made reality snap back, but it didn’t stop him. As he headed for the door, he tapped his phone again and lit it up—Maps opening with a tap, your address already saved, already waiting.
The knock comes after midnight. you’re just watching some tv cause you couldn’t sleep, it was puzzling to hear a knock past midnight— You didn’t expect any delivery or friends. You hesitate before opening the door, already annoyed—who just knocks on people’s doors in the middle of the night? Probably one of your neighbors' kids who think it’s funny to ding-dong ditch. When you finally pull it open, the last person you expect is standing there.
Austin.
He looks wrecked—baggy athleisure and his hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it all night.
“…Are you serious?” you say finally, your hand resting on the doorframe.
Austin exhales through his nose, gaze flicking over your face then down to your figure, examining your outfit—lingering on your baby tee and shorts like the sight of you alone is enough to irritate him further. “We need to talk.”
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “No,” you say coolly, “you need to leave.”
He doesn’t listen; instead of obeying your request. Austin steps forward, pushing past you with ease, forcing you to move your arm as he walks into your apartment like he was invited in. Like he hasn’t been absent for months. Like this isn’t wildly inappropriate.
“Aus’ what the hell?” "You say furrowing your brow, watching him stand in the entryway, looking around.
“I saw your post,” he says, cutting in, looking at a newly framed photo on your wall.
your jaw is dropped to the floor. “You disappear for months,” you continue, voice steady but sharp, “and now you’re at my door like this is normal?”
His jaw tightens. “Who is he?” Tugging off his hoodie off his head.
You scoff. “Of course.” The audacity almost makes you smile.
“The guy in your story,” he presses, brows furrowing.
“You don’t get to ask that,” you say flatly. “We aren’t even dating. You can’t just show up like this whenever you want. I haven’t spoken to you in months.”
Austin’s eyes narrow. “So you are seeing someone.” Jaw unhinging.
You smile, not out of happiness but out of shock at his audacity. “And there it is.” You gesture with your hands.
“There what?” He questions
“You only want me because someone else has me now,” you say, “It’s like—” you shake your head, exhaling, “It’s like a kid seeing another kid playing with a toy they didn’t care about until it wasn’t theirs anymore.”
“You post a picture like that,” he says, voice rising slightly, “and I’m just supposed to ignore it?”
“Yes,” you fire back.
His expression flickers with anger and guilt. “That’s not—” he defends himself.
“It is,” you interrupt. “You never wanted me in a different way. You never wanted to be seen with me. And now suddenly you’re here, acting like my fuckin’ boyfriend?”
Silence stretches between you, tension buzzing in the air.
“What?” you snap, then scoff. “If you actually did pay attention to anyone but yourself, you would know he’s just a friend.”
That shuts him up.
For a moment, you think he’ll leave. But instead.
Austin’s hand comes up suddenly, gripping your waist—not hard enough to hurt, eyes flickering to your eyes and back to your lips. Then he kisses you.
It’s rough. Messy. All teeth and frustration, like he’s been holding it back for weeks and finally gave up pretending he could control it. You moan into it, fingers fisting in his hoodie before you can stop yourself.
You should push him away.
You don’t; it feels so fucking good.
You kiss him back just as hard, anger bleeding into muscle memory. His hand slides from your waist to your jaw, and he groans into your mouth.
Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, the picture frame rattling beside you. He doesn’t stop; his mouth moves into yours, teeth biting into your lip, making you whine.
You tug at his hoodie impatiently, fingers catching the hem as you pull it over his head. Letting it drop somewhere behind him as his hands find you again, guiding you backward, and his offhand grips your ass. Another step paired with another collision with the wall.
The only sounds are uneven breathing, and the soft shuffling of feet against the floor.
Before you knew it..
Your clothes were discarded on your floor, his face was buried in between your legs, and his stubble from not shaving brushed against your soaked slit.
His tongue lapped and sucked at your clit. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice vibrating into your sensitive cunt.
He really did miss this, he loved the sweet taste of you on his tongue—especially after what felt like endless nights, practices, training, media, and games blending all into one. You were his favorite stress reliever. he hated that he let you ignore him.
Hands spreading your legs wider, but only for you to clench your thighs around his head—your hand pulling at his hair. His tongue dove in hungrily, desperate just to taste that sweet pussy again. "Goddamn, sweetheart. I missed ya."
Then:
Your knees were digging into your mattress, fingers clawing for purchase on your soft sheets— Austin never stopped for a second, hips clapping into the fat of your ass. His grasp left your waist to give a harsh slap to your ass. an uncontrolled moan escaped your mouth. Music to Austin’s ears, giving him a massive ego boost, a sly smirk coming across his face as he mumbles, “You like that huh?”
Another slap against your ass, you stuff your face into your sheets in an attempt to muffle your moans.
But Austin doesn’t have any of it. “Nah, nah, none of that.” Reaching to tug at your arms, causing you to collapse deeper into the mattress. He gathers your hands at your lower back and tugs you up, untucking your face from the mattress. “I wanna hear you a’ight?” He grumbles,
His off hand lands another slap to your cheeks, “Fuck look at that.” His head tilts back to watch your ass clap back against his pelvis, cock slipping in and out with slick ease.
“S-so good.” You moan out, and his cocky smirk reappears on his face. “Yeah? You like that? Should’ve known you’re just a whore, hm?” His degrading words melt your brain, and he keeps going.
“Should’ve been had you like this.” Gloating in the pleasure of being in control, you had always had the wheel, but he was sick of it—plus you like this, evident of how tightly you’re clenching around his cock.
“Ain’t nobody else can make you feel like this.” He grunts into the hot air of your bedroom—your bed frame scrapes against the hardwood with a faint creak, and the headboard bangs into the drywall with a harsh thud.
He didn’t care if your neighbors could hear, fuck let them hear. He didn’t care anymore he lost all sense of mind ever since he saw that fucking instagram post of yours. He needed to hear you scream his name, like how he did with yours.
“Fuck, say my name pretty girl.” He coos into your ear, his grip loosens on your wrists, letting your muscles relax, but not even for a second did he stop his pounding hips.
“Austin, fuck—don’t stop” You moan out, reverberating off the walls. Hearing you say his name like that makes his head dizzy.
“I won’t, baby,” babbling “Fuck, I won’t.” His voice becomes progressively more hoarse and weak.
His brows pinch together as the so familiar band builds in his abdomen. “Oh my god” he moans, a stark contrast to his previous degrading curses.
His grip loosens on your hands, letting your hands fall back into your control
“Fuck m’gonna come.” He pants out, hips stuttering and becoming sloppy. he usually never comes this quick, but he hasn’t had sex in a while, plus the tension turned him on.
“Can I come inside?” He almost whimpers out a plea, “please.” It adds to your peaking orgasm, your head becoming hazy, and you losing all proper sense.
“Mhm.” You groan, biting your lip. He could’ve come right then and there, but he’s a gentleman, always wanting to get you off first— so he buries it down. Hips rutting into you still, he had exceptional stamina, which was something you loved about him in bed.
Your face smushes back into your mattress, and you cry out, “M’gonna come.” paired with a breathless moan.
With one last hit to your cervix, you come around him, he immediately groans out at the pulsing clench of your pussy, sending him into his own orgasm.
Sending a thick load of cum down inside your cunt. His moan was half-whimper, half-groan. “My—fuckkkkk” he mumbles out in that southern drawl that always made you wet.
He pulls out—paired with an obscene, sloppy sound. Watching his cum leak out of your pulsing pussy, dripping onto your sheets. He was mesmerized and surprised you let him come inside, but to be fair.. It’s been a long time coming.
He’s insatiable, he missed you more than anything—so of course he had to go again, he wasn’t tired yet anyways.
He grips your waist to maneuver you onto your back. “You alright?” He asks softly, he didn’t want to overwhelm you.
You nodded, brushing the bit of saliva off your lips, “Yeah.” Then you swallow, already knowing he wants to go again. “Again?”
He smiles, “You’alr know.” His cock hardening, he then runs his cock over your soaked folds—a mix of your cum and his.
Biting your lip with a smile that burns your cheeks, his brown eyes find yours, another ask for approval—which you nod again.
He slides inside with ease, his cock filling you out once again. You never quite adjusted to the length and thickness of his cock, even though you’ve fucked more times than you can remember.
“Fuck’n shit” He groans out.
Austin’s arms were around you, but not in the possessive way from before. This time it was gentle. His forehead rested against your back, softly pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“I… I needa treat you better,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’ve been such an idiot—thinking I could have you on my terms, not yours. I—” He swallowed, hand tracing your hip softly. “I don’t ever wanna make you feel like… like you’re just available when it’s convenient for me. I want… I want you, all of you.”
You said nothing, letting the quiet between you stretch. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “Alright?”
You nod, pulling up the covers higher against your body. “Okay.”
⊹「Recents」⊹˙ → ˙⊹「Masterlist」⊹˙
Dividers by cafekitsune
https://x.com/lukadoncic/status/313956733150183424 this tweet’s been floating around and I keep giggling because it kinda reminds me of how you write Luka in one of the medic reader fics 😭😭😭 like lowkey up pathetic god bless him lmao
I’m literally crying LMAOOO how old was Luka in 2013 I’m deadddd😭 like 15 or something this is literally GOLD
