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joonsmagicshop · 1 month

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Professor Rapline

Summary: Mr. Kim is your English Literature and Poetry teacher and while he is known for being a strict teacher is he is also hot. So incredibly hot! So when he gives you an outlet for all your exam stress how can you possibly say no? Little do you realize it wont be just him you are getting pleasure from

Paring: Namjoon/Reader focused! Eventually Yoongi/Reader Hobi/Reader

Word Count: 15K

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: A/U, Professor/student relationship,slow burn, flirting, pet names, Joon calls her princess Yoongi calls her Kitten, Hobi calls her baby, dirty talk, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, cum licking, eating out, sex, so much sex, basically she gets fucked three times in one night, choking, face fucking, power dynamics, dry humping.

Authors Note: I was possessed by a horny demon when I wrote this. This idea has been stuck in my head for months and once I started writing I didn't want to stop. This is a work of fiction and I do not recommend fucking your professors.

No one warned you about Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jung Hoesok.

But then again, you doubted you would have believed them if they did.

It was the last semester before your time at University would be over for good, and honestly, you couldn’t wait. You were over the long nights studying, the assignments that had to be handed in on time or you would lose marks, and the group projects that were just as pointless as they were frustrating.

You had done everything you wanted to do, you went to the parties, kissed random strangers in bathrooms, and even hooked up with a few. You had a boyfriend for three months and decided it was better for you to be single and now you were ready to graduate and move on with your life.

Which found you sitting in the Academic Adviser’s office nervously shifting in your chair as you watched her go through your file. The office was painted a soft blue color and the heater was pumping out hot air on blast making the whole space dry and stuffy. As you wait, you unwound your scarf from your neck and placed it on your lap.

Her eyes met yours and she smiled softly at you.

“Well Miss Y/L/N it seems that you have a bright shining future that’s for sure. You have a wonderful file here and honors too, you must be proud.” She said beaming at you as you crossed your legs nervously and unzipped your coat.

You understood that it was the dead of winter outside but did it have to be so incredibly stuffy in here?

“Thank you. So I’m on track to graduate? Everything looks good?” You ask leaning forward in the chair.

“Well here’s the thing…” She trails off as she pushes her glasses back on her nose and scans the computer again.

Your heart drops.

“As I said bright and shining future for sure but you are missing just one credit. If you are unable to fit another class in this semester you would be unable to graduate.” She says with a frown as you see her eyes scan the computer to double check as your heart drops down to your boots.

There is no way.

You spent four years busting your butt, there was no way you were going to stay any longer than you had to.

“I can fit another class in! Which class do I need?” You ask in a panic as she clicks some more on the mouse and you watch her concentrate on the screen.

“Well, the good news is you just need one more elective class. The bad news is most of them are filled up…well. Except…” Her voice trails off again as you squirm in your seat, panic taking over.

“Whatever it is I’ll take it!” You respond eagerly.

“Miss Y/L/N it’s English literature and poetry with Mr. Kim.” She says in a serious tone as her eyes finally leave her monitor to look at you.

“Okay fine sign me up!” You say as you lean so far forward you are almost pushed right against her desk.

“Miss Y/L/N I understand you want to graduate on time but you must know. His class is notoriously known for being… quite difficult. I never want to slander a teacher but Mr Kim is very serious about his job and a lot of students come to me trying to drop his class.” She says staring at you with a serious look on her face.

You had no idea who Mr Kim was. The campus was so big you hardly knew where half the rooms were let alone half the teachers. But you had to graduate on time. You were not about to spend more money to have to go back to school for one elective course. There was just no way.

“That’s fine sign me up.” You say boldly as she frowns at you and types away on her computer. Well-manicured nails fly along the keyboard.

“Only if you are sure, you can always change your mind.” She says as you nod and she clicks something, you assume it’s to enroll you into his class.

"Okay, you are set. The class is on Wednesday nights at six pm. His classroom is 0994B which is in the basement.” She says as she pushes her glasses off her face to stare at you again.

“If you have any trouble at all please let me know.” She says as you nod and gather your things. You wrap your scarf around your neck and wave goodbye, leaving the stuffy office to head to the textbook shop to grab your book, having no idea what you just agreed to.

.........................

Two days later you found yourself searching the basement for the classroom you are looking for. While the University is beautiful with a rich history the basement is spooky and dark, especially in January when the nights are long and you rarely get sunlight.

Just as you approach the door you see a paper taped to it and you frown.

Basement heater is broken. Mr Kim’s class moved to 0294.

You let out a frustrated sigh and begin to ascend the stairs, hiking your messenger bag up on your shoulder as you climb.

The second floor is much nicer than the basement and you luckily find the new classroom with ease. You slip inside and take stock of the students. The lecture hall is large and set up like a theater with a podium at the front and the seats ascending upwards. You see most of the front rows are already taken with giggling girls.

You made your way to the back and plopped your things down in a seat slightly to the right of where the empty podium sat. You pulled out your phone to make sure it was on silent and as you took out your textbook and pens you couldn’t help but overhear the girls in front of you talking.

“That’s not a reason to take this class! I’m not carrying you though because you only signed up for this class because Mr. Kim is hot.” A blonde girl teased her friend as her friend shushed her and giggled.

“Come on that’s why people try and survive his class. He’s such a hardass but so nice to look at it makes up for it!” Her friend teased as both girls dissolved into giggles.

You wondered what the hell they were talking about. Mr Kim was hot? You had many English teachers throughout your years and they all were mostly the same type of person. Lanky, nerdy, either a tortured poet or a Shakespeare lover. You never pictured your teacher to be attractive at all and now thoughts of what he could look like clouded your mind.

But it didn’t take long for you to find out.

The second the door opened the entire class fell silent.

No one warned you about Mr. Kim.

But you’re sure if they did you wouldn’t believe them

Hell, you didn’t believe the girls who were sitting in front of you until you saw it with your own two eyes.

He was tall and handsome with blonde hair slicked back from his forehead and eyes narrowed as he looked through the crowd of students. When his eyes met yours you shivered but he didn’t linger as he made long strides towards the podium and set his brown briefcase down on the floor.

He took out a small laptop and set it up as you watched him in fascination. He was no doubt handsome and even though he had not spoken a word he had already commanded the class to be quiet.

It was quite impressive.

He took his time fiddling with the laptop as the class stayed deathly quiet. Once he got everything hooked up and the projector running he finally addressed the class.

“Hi I’m Mr Kim and I’ll be teaching you English lit and poetry.”

And then he smiled

When he smiled two beautiful dimples appeared on his cheeks and you knew you were undeniably screwed.

Not only was his class notorious for being difficult, but it also didn’t help he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Well, shit.

Your small crush on Mr. Kim lasted well in February. As the ground started to thaw and the days were very slowly becoming longer you spent most of your time buried in a book trying not to drown in your coursework.

While Mr. Kim was in fact the hottest man you had ever seen, the rumors were true and he was also a hardass about his subject.

By the second week, twelve people had dropped his class. He didn’t seem to mind or even acknowledge it, he just kept teaching.

By the time the first month was over twenty people had left and the class had once again been moved. This time to a small lecture hall on the same floor that was a lot more cozy and less intimidating than the original one.

You hardly noticed how many people dropped the class come March as midterm exams were approaching and you were too worried about your grades and future to worry about anyone else.

Your crush on Mr. Kim even took a backseat as you spent most of your time in the library, wistfully staring out the window at the sunny days wishing you were outside instead of in a stuffy old library going over poems written by people who had passed away ages ago.

In the last week of March, you got a break. Mr. Kim was teaching about Robert Frost and going over the poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” You were lucky enough to study that poem in high school so you sneakily took out your psychology homework and began to work on that, nodding and making occasional eye contact with Mr. Kim so he thought you were paying attention.

Lucky for you, you had finished most of the essay during Mr. Kim’s lecture. Unlucky for you class had ended five minutes ago and everyone had left the lecture hall, leaving you sitting there alone typing while Mr. Kim packed up his stuff.

You were so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice his hard gaze on you, how his eyebrow quirked when he saw how concentrated you were, and how he let out a low sigh as he made his way up the steps to approach you.

You did however notice when he was about two feet away from you and you gasped and slammed your laptop lid shut in alarm

“Miss Y/N.” He said smoothly as he took a seat in the aisle opposite yours and smiled softly at you.

You felt a blush appear on your cheeks as you hastily tried to come up with an excuse.

“Please Y/N tell me what you were working on. I know you aren’t typing that much about Robert Frost.” He teases as he stretches out his legs and you can see his slacks stretch under the pressure of his thick thighs.

“I-Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry. I…well I studied Robert Frost in high school and I have this big psychology essay that is due and I just wanted to get a head start on it.” You admit shyly as you shove your laptop in your messenger bag and gather your things.

You stand up to leave but a strong hand stops you.

“My class and Psych? I’m impressed.” He says as his hand leaves your arm but you can still feel the heat from where he touched you, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well, I… yeah I need Phych and I needed one more class to graduate so I picked yours.” You admitted as you stood there in front of him.

“And the Academic advisor let you do this? Take both?” He asks as he remains seated and gestures to the chair you vacated. Knowing he wasn’t going to kick you out of his class you graciously sat down, placing your bag on the floor.

“I…well I kind of didn’t give her a choice. I don’t want to come back for a year to take one course.” You admit.

He smiles at you, dimples present and you feel pleasure bloom in your chest.

“That’s very admirable of you. I’m sure she warned you about me and my class and you still decided to go for it? I like that.” He says.

You nod not sure of what to say.

“What do you want to be when you get out of here? What are your goals?” He asks you breaking the silence.

“I want to be a high school teacher. Educate the future generations.” You say shyly as his smile grows bigger.

You smile back at him.

“Ah. Very admirable. A girl after my own heart.” He teases and you feel yourself blush at his praise.

You both lapse into silence and you feel your heart hammer against your chest. He is staring at you softly and you slowly reach out to play with the hem of your skirt, hands desperate to do something so you don’t reach out for him.

“I’m sorry for keeping you late Sir. I should let you go.” You say as you gather your things and almost miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs when you call him sir.

You don’t waste any time and make your way down the stairs, leaving Mr. Kim still in the seat watching you go.

“Y/N?” He calls back for you as you stop and turn to face him. He looks so nonchalant sitting there, and so incredibly handsome you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid.

“I'll speak to Mr. Min about your caseload and see if he can ease off a bit. He can be kind of a hardass.” He says as he stands up and stretches and you can’t help but sneak a peak when his cream-colored sweater rises to show a flash of taunt skin.

Fuck.

“Oh, Mr. Kim you don’t have to it’s okay.” You say flushed at his generosity as he makes his way towards you to gather his things.

“It’s okay I have to talk to him about something anyway. I won’t mention your name I’ll just tell him to lay off a bit.” He assures you as you nod.

You wish him a good night and make your way out of the classroom. Your hands grip the straps of your messenger bag tightly as you hurry across campus to your car. By the time you get into your car, you are sure the flush on your face is gone, but the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering around like crazy.

April.

The dreaded month of April.

April was prep for exam season and you were once again buried in your books. Spring was finally here and when it wasn’t raining buckets you spent your time outside, spreading your books on the picnic tables as you got to work catching up on things you had to finish before exams.

After your essay for Mr. Min, his class did seem to get easier. You never asked Mr. Kim about it, instead, you pretended to be oblivious about the whole thing though you did have a feeling a conversation was had because you noticed Mr. Min staring at you more than usual as he taught.

Every free hour was spent studying or revising or writing essays so you hardly had time to think of that day with Mr. Kim. How gorgeous he looked sitting across from you, and how his cream-colored sweater fit his body perfectly and showed off his sculpted chest and broad shoulders.

You only let these thoughts run ramped late at night, when the stress of the day caught up to you and you wondered what would happen if he did lean in and kiss you. How soft his full lips would feel against yours. Would he be soft with you or would he be in control and command you just as he did that first day when he walked into the room?

Often times you would let your hand wander into your underwear and you would circle your clit. Imagining it was his strong deft fingers instead of your own. You would imagine him pinning you against the wooden podium and pulling down your pants to finger you.

How his huge body would cage you in and how he would whisper dirty things in your ear, his voice low and gruff as he would prep you to take his cock.

Most times you could cum around your fingers thinking of him. Wondering what it would be like to have someone as tall and handsome as Mr. Kim fucking you.

The weather was getting even warmer and your stress was at an all-time high. At this point, you lived off coffee and would often take it to class with you as you worked.

Mr. Kim was going over the structure of your final exam and as much as you tried you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open. You had slept a total of three hours last night and his late-night classes were getting to you.

You fought your body as much as you could. Trying to take notes, trying to focus but before you knew it your eyes were shut and you were snoozing softly on your textbook, face smushed cutely into the cover.

Unbeknown to you Mr. Kim had been keeping a close eye on you since your private conversation and he caught you sleeping the moment your head rested on the textbook. He bit back a smile as he continued to address the class.

You had slept for half an hour. You were awoken by a strong hand lightly shaking your arm and you looked up to see Mr. Kim staring down at you, his lips curved in a smile as you blushed with embarrassment.

“Oh my god Mr. Kim I’m so sorry I just- I don’t even know what to say this is so embarrassing and I missed most of what you said about the exam and oh my god I can’t believe I fell asleep in class what’s wrong with me!” You babbled on as you frantically shoved all your stuff in your bag and avoided eye contact with him.

You were sure he was beyond mad. A student falling asleep in his class is super disrespectful.

“Y/N deep breaths please, I don’t want you hyperventilating in my class.” He teases you with a smile as you freeze and turn to look at him.

“I am so sorry!” You cry out as you bury your face in your hands and stare at the floor.

“It’s okay really.” He says as his hands circle your wrist to pry your hands away from your red face.

His big hands engulf your wrists and you let out a shaky breath as your mind goes haywire at his soft touches.

He is staring at you with concern written all over his face and you look around, once again the classroom is empty except for the two of you.

“It’s not Mr. Min this time I swear! It’s just exams and revisions and I want to keep my honor roll so I have to work hard I haven’t been sleeping much because of all the work and I’m so so sorry!” You blurt out eyes shifting from his sharp eyes to his plush lips that are still drawn up into a smile.

He catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow

You were really in trouble now.

“Y/N you have big dreams and it’s amazing how much you are taking on. Honestly when you told me your plan and the courses you are taking I was and am very impressed. You should be proud of yourself.” He says lowly. You glance down to see his hands are still holding your wrists steady and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat pounding against your skin.

“Thank you.” You whisper out hearing your voice echo in the empty room.

“Being an almost University graduate can be stressful and challenging.” He starts as his thumb caresses your wrist and up into your palm.

You can’t help it, you bite your lip in anticipation as his fingers work your skin soothing you but also making your heart beat faster.

“It really is. I just want to graduate and be done.” You admit shyly as his sharp eyes are locked on yours.

“I totally understand that. I remember those days. I lived off coffee and ramen.” He admits standing up from his crouch to sit on the chair right next to yours, his thick thighs bumping against your knee as he lets go of your hands to get situated.

“Mind you I wasn’t trusted in the kitchen so my roommates did most of the ramen cooking.” He teases as you giggle.

He runs a hand through his hair and pushes it back from his forehead. The tension in the room is thick and you can’t stop staring at his lips, your mind flashing to two nights ago when you came around your fingers moaning his name.

He clasps his fingers together on the table and your eyes dart down to them. He grins when he catches you staring and you blush further.

“I guess what I want to say is it’s important to study hard but also important to take breaks when you need to. Stress can do major damage to the body.” Mr. Kim advises as you nod wordlessly at him.

“What do you do for fun? That’s not schoolwork? Do you have an outlet of some kind?” He asks softly.

You were sure it was wildly inappropriate to tell him that you orgasm to relieve stress so instead you tell him a little about yourself and your life.

How your parents live a ten-minute drive from the University so you never felt the need to stay on campus. How you like to take your dog on walks when the weather is nice and how he wears a little raincoat on days when it drizzles. You tell him about your friends and how you try to get together for movie nights but you all are so swamped with school you haven’t had time.

He listens intently and soon enough you realize you are blabbing so you shut up much to his dismay.

“You sound like you have good hobbies though maybe a balancing problem. You need to work hard but also play hard too. This is University after all that’s why people party so much to get rid of all the stress from teachers like me.” He says with a laugh as you laugh along beside him.

You explain how you did go to the parties in your first year but grew out of them and he nods along in understanding.

“I get that. And with being so close to the end I get you want to rush through and graduate to get it over with but you have to find outlets to relieve all the stress. Once you get into the workforce you’ll still have this stress and even though I’ll let it slide you fell asleep in my class the workforce won’t be so gracious.”

You nod along at his words as he adjusts himself in the seat, his knee bumping yours and sending your heart racing once more.

“I am truly sorry Mr. Kim I have never fallen asleep in a class before in my life.” You admit to him, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Ah, so I must have been boring you.” He jests which has you protesting right away.

“No not at all! I would never think that of you!”

He smiles at your words and you push your knee into his as silent reassurance.

His eyes dart down to your lips and back up again and you smirk at him.

“So what you need to do is find an outlet for all that stress and built-up frustration. Some people choose to drink, but I think you might be over that, some people choose to lift weights or run. But there are…other options you know.” He says letting his voice dip dangerously low and you stare at him in shock when he winks at you.

Is he suggesting what you think he is suggesting?

Because if he is?

How the hell do you even say no to that?!

“I-uh. I’m not sure what you mean….sir.” You say putting on your best sultry voice and watching as a slow smirk appears on his face.

So he does mean what you think he means.

Well….wow.

“You know a lot of people have….experiences in University. Great time to get to know yourself and what you want…and like.” He hints as you push your knee boldly into his and his smirk grows wider.

The tension in the room is palatable at this point and you can almost feel the want radiating off both of your bodies.

You don’t want this flirting to end so you tease him some more, seeing how far you can take it.

“Oh, I already went through all that. Too bad University boys half the time don’t know what they are doing. Such a shame I have to do it myself.”

His eyes widen and his tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. You wink back at him and feel him once again push his knee into yours with more force.

Your body is on fire when you lean in closer to him, letting his cologne cloud your senses.

“What a pity.” He almost growls out as you look up at him fluttering your eyelashes.

Boldly he unclasps his hands and places one on your knee, the same knee that is currently pressing into his under the table.

You let out a small gasp when his hand sneaks into the inside of your knee and his thumb caresses your other leg.

You wish with all your heart that today of all days you had chosen to wear a skirt instead of jeans but your skin is on fire as he traced fine lines into your jeans, eyes not leaving yours.

Neither of you speak as his hand climbs higher. The rational part of your brain is screaming for you to stop this because he is your professor, your teacher, your senior, but the horny part of your brain is begging his fingers to climb higher where he would for sure find you soaked for him.

Before you can do or say anything he squeezes your thigh and you let out a squeal of shock when his hand leaves you, before you know it he is standing up and making his way down the stairs back to the podium seemingly unbothered and unaffected by the whole thing.

You realize this is him dismissing you so you grab your things and make your way down the stairs. Trying to hide how aroused you are and how badly your pussy is aching for his touch.

When you make it to the podium, messenger bag slung over your shoulder he looks up at you and reaches out to hand you a little white card.

You see it's blank on one side but when you turn it over you see an address scrawled on the back.

His address?

“Pity University boys don’t know how to please a woman. As I said you need an outlet for all that stress. Friday night come to this address. Seven pm.”

Your eyes widen in shock

He was inviting you to his house?

“I- I don’t know what to say.” You admit still holding the card in your outstretched hand and as you stare him down.

“Show up or don’t your choice ultimately.” He says closing his laptop and packing up his things for the night.

“What if someone finds out? Or sees this card?” You ask him with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles softly.

“No one ever has before. I’m not too worried. But if you are… don’t show up. Shred the card.” He offers as he shoves stuff in his briefcase not bothering to look at you.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask hating how your voice sounds so scandalized. As if you weren’t egging him on the entire time.

“I think you know the answer to that Miss Y/N.” He says with a cock of his eyebrow as he places his briefcase down and finally locks eyes with you.

“I see the way you look at me. They all have the same look. The want. The desire. I’m just here to get a paycheck and maybe have some fun. Though I will forwarn you if you do show up you will be punished for sleeping in my class.” He adds with a smirk as you gasp.

“Balls in your court Y/N. And if you do tell anyone well you still have your final exam to write.” He says boldly.

Your mouth drops in shock.

“You're going to fail me if I don’t show up? Are you insane?” You cry out as he smiles down at you.

“If you don’t say a word regardless of whether you show up or not I won’t have to fail you. If it does get out, whether you show up or not…well.” He shrugs as an answer and you gasp at him.

You shouldn’t find this hot.

You really shouldn’t.

“Fine.” You bite back and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Have a good night Miss Y/N,” he says gesturing at the door.

Friday you tell your parents you are going to a study group. You have no idea how long this will take or what will even happen so you tell them to not wait up.

The drive is about twenty minutes from your house and you are shaking in anticipation the entire way.

Of course, you didn’t tell a single soul. You knew Mr. Kim was true to his word and you didn’t want to put your grades in the balance so you kept the note hidden in your wallet and double triple checked it before you drove over.

The sun was just starting to set casting everything in a beautiful glow as your hands tapped on the steering wheel and you turned down a side street.

The weather was warm today so you opted for a pale blue sundress with small yellow flowers on it. You dug out your best bra and underwear and tied your hair up to keep it from your face.

Your tote was on the seat next to you filled with textbooks you would never open as you finally made your way to the address and the big house.

It was a two-story white house with white shutters and a long driveway with three separate cars parked. You decided to park on the road and you pulled out the card to double-check again as the door opened and you saw Mr. Kim standing there staring at you.

You never told him you were coming but you guess he was ready anyway because when you grabbed your things and closed the car door he was smiling at you.

He looked so different than how he did in the classroom but still drop-dead gorgeous. His blonde hair was pushed back from his face in his signature style, he was wearing a black tight shirt and grey tight sweatpants that had your mouth watering.

He looked so good.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Hi.” You said softly as you made your way to the door.

He smiled at you and quickly ushed your inside as you took in your surroundings.

The living room was a good size with a big couch and a TV. Of to the side, there was a galley kitchen and you smiled when you remembered he said he was a terrible cook. You saw a staircase off the kitchen and a small bathroom off the living room.

“Mr. Kim thank you for this.” You start but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your lips.

“Please. I’m Namjoon. We don’t need the professional titles here.” He says as you kick off your shoes timidly and he puts a hand on the small of your back to bring you over to the couch.

“Namjoon.” You say his name as he smiles down at you when you both sit.

“Exactly. Or you can call me sir if you're into that.” He teases with a smirk as you blush.

“I think you are the one who would like that…sir… I saw the way you reacted when I called you that.” You tease back suddenly feeling bold as you drop your bag on the hardwood floor.

“You little tease. And getting all dolled up just for me, You shouldn’t have.” He mutters as his fingers come to play with the small straps holding the dress up.

“Yeah, you like it?” You smirk, standing up and swishing your dress around, giving him a full view of your legs.

His hands grab your hips and he pulls you down on his lap as you straddle him staring at him with lust-blown eyes.

“You absolute tease.” He grumbles as his hands come to play with the straps once more, taking his time to pull them slowly down your shoulders and letting them hang.

“What do you want?” He asks staring up at you not daring to make another move until you answer his question.

“You.”

Without warning he leans forward and captures your lips in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his shoulders for support as you kiss him back.

His lips are just as soft as you imagined and you take your time with him, letting him control the kiss as he pushes his body into yours.

You feel his half-hard cock in his sweatpants and when you grind down on it a small moan leaves his mouth.

His hands run up and down your thighs and finally settle on your waist as he kisses you harder pushing his lips into yours and nibbling on your lower lip.

You moan at the feeling and his tongue darts in your mouth to rub against your tongue.

You rake your hands through his soft hair and grab the hair at the nape of his neck as you push your body into his, letting your breasts press into his chest and making more moans fall from his mouth.

This was hands down the hottest makeout session you have had and you start to feel yourself grind against him as pleasure courses through your body.

He pulls away and grins lazily up at you as you continue to rock your core against his now fully hard cock.

“Bend over my lap I promised I’d punish you, princess.” He says as you stare down at him and continue your grind on his cock, the sensation too good to stop.

“What if I don’t want to be punished?” You tease him as he rolls his eyes at you.

His hands grab your shoulders as he pushes you down on the couch and in a flash he has your dress hiked up so your ass is on display.

You moan out when you feel his strong hands massage your bare skin.

“Lacy underwear for me? You shouldn’t have,” He jokes as his hand comes down to smack your ass.

The sting causes you to close your eyes and you moan against the cushion when he continues to spank you, ranging from hard spanks to soft little taps.

Your pussy is throbbing at this point and you are almost humping the couch with how aroused you are. Namjoon isn’t letting up though and after ten spanks he is kneading the sensitive skin and praising you.

“Mr. Kim please!”You cry out.

“What did you call me?” He asks, delivering a sharp smack to your left and right buttcheek causing you to push your face into the cushion harder and moan out.

“Namjoon! Namjoon please!” You cry as he lifts you up and once again positions you on his lap. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock and you grind down on it some more.

“What do you want princess?” He asks massaging the skin he spanked raw as you bury your face in his shoulder, turned on beyond belief.

“You. I want you.” You beg out as he smirks and you lift your head.

You don’t waste time grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. You gasp when you are met with toned tan skin, broad shoulders, and a muscular chest.

“God Namjoon your body.” You whimper as you lean down to pepper kisses along his collarbones and chest, arching your back so you can reach more skin and have your core press harder into his cock.

“I could say the same about you.” He says lowly as he pulls the straps of your dress down to free your bra to his hungry eyes.

He quickly gets your bra off and his large hands come to cup your breasts. You throw your head back and moan as his thumbs flick over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure to your already-soaked core.

“God princess I can feel how needy you are, you're soaking my pants.” He says as you look down to see a stain forming on his crotch.

“That’s so fucking hot.” He admits as his hands continue to work your nipples and you continue to grind against his cock chasing your high.

“Princess you're so fucking wet for me I bet I could just slide in huh?” He says as his hands leave your breasts to run down the expanse of your stomach to the hem of your underwear

“Please. Joon. Fuck. Please.” You beg as his hand slips inside and your eyes roll back when he gathers your wetness and begins to circle your clit agonizingly slow.

“Use your words, princess.” He teases as he continues his slow torture on your clit. You throw your head back and grip his strong shoulders for support as you grind against his skilled hand.

“Want you to fuck me. Please, sir. Please.” You whine as he removes his hand and you watch as he licks his fingers clean, sharp eyes never leaving yours.

Your pussy pulses with want and a broken moan leaves your mouth.

“Gotta prep you, princess. Not to brag but I’ve been told I have a big cock. Don’t wanna break my girl before exams.” He teases as he taps your butt so you lift yourself and kneel on the couch giving him full access to your pussy as he pulls your underwear down and completely off leaving you in just your dress with nothing underneath.

He smiles up at you as his finger dips back into your underwear and he circles your clit again. You moan out and grip his shoulders when he inserts a finger inside of you.

You were right when you told him University boys didn’t know what they were doing

You had never experienced something like his before

And it never felt so good being right.

He took his time opening you up on his fingers. Adding another one and scissoring them, making beautiful whines and moans fall from your lips. You already felt close to the edge and when he curled his fingers upwards and thrusted deeper you let go.

Your body arched forward and you cried out his name as you orgasmed around his fingers. He chuckled darkly against your skin as you rode out your high. Feeling yourself pulse around his digits as he worked you through it.

Once you came down you straddled his lap once again and pressed your face into his chest letting your breathing even out as he stroked your hair and praised you for being so good for him.

“Please Namjoon.” You whined out as you pushed yourself up so you were face to face with him.

“Tell me, Princess. Tell your Professor what you want.” He says as you scoot back and stroke his cock through his sweatpants.

“Want you to fuck me Joon.” You beg as he wraps one hand around you to lift you and the other hand tugs at his sweats pulling them down so his hard cock is flush against his stomach.

He was right, his cock was big.

Thick and veiny, the tip was bright red and leaking precum down the shaft. You carefully wrapped a hand around his cock and began to slowly jerk him off, wanting to give him the pleasure he gave you.

“Princess you are too good at that.” He whines out when you twist your wrist at the top making his cock leak more precum.

“Princess you gotta stop I gotta get a condom.” He says as you stop your movements and giggle when he reaches for his wallet you didn’t even notice was on the coffee table and retrieves a condom from it.

Your pussy throbs in anticipation and right as he is about to roll the condom on the door bursts open.

Standing there is Mr. Min your psych teacher and you scream and bury your face in Namjoons shoulder as he looks unbothered by the whole thing.

“Jesus Joon on the couch?! Really? Thought we said bedrooms only!” Another voice says and you look up in time to see another male standing in the doorway. He is beautiful with slightly wavy brown hair and wide eyes, his features are soft giving him a look of unearthly beauty.

“Sorry, it just kind of happened,” Namjoon admits as you are still frozen in shock at the fact your other teacher is here watching the whole thing and seeming so chill about it.

“Mr. Min I’m so- I- shit I don’t know what to say.” You stammer as Mr. Min’s eyes lock on Namjoon’s in a harsh stare.

“You didn’t even tell her Joon? Jesus, do we have to do everything?” He asks as he comes around the couch and you push yourself closer to Namjoon in worry of what will happen.

“Listen Kitten. Come to my room when he’s done fucking you yeah? Up the stairs last door on the right.” He says pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your back as he walks away from the couch and smacks Namjoon on the back of his head.

“No more fucking on the couch or you’re going to pay the cleaning bill.” He says as he makes his way up the stairs.

Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you are frozen in absolute shock

What the fuck is going on?

“Why do you get her first?” The other man complains as Namjoon pushes his head into your shoulder and whines in embarrassment.

“Because I’m her teacher too. She has no idea who the fuck you are!” Mr. Min calls from the top of the stairs in a teasing tone.

The other man comes around the couch and grabs your hand to shake it with a big smile on his face.

“I’m Mr. Jung but you can call me Hobi. We’ve never met but I’m the performing arts teacher. Once these two buffoons are done with you come to my room. I’m the last door on the left.” He sends you a sultry wink and before you know it he is heading up the stairs as well and you are frozen in shock.

“What the fuck.” You whisper as Namjoon is groaning into your shoulder and you look down to see his cock softening between your bodies.

“I… Shit, they are right I should have explained things before we started.” He admits as he pushes his head back to stare at you.

“I’m so confused.” You admit still in shock.

“Yoongi, Um I guess he’s Mr. Min to you, Hobi, and I were roommates at University. After we graduated we couldn’t afford housing alone so we decided to rent a big house and live together. We all work at the same place so it just made sense. Anyway, we found that there are…students who take an interest in us beyond academics and figured why the hell not? We are young and if we want them and they want us and it’s consensual…” His voice trailed off and you nodded.

“Anyway, sometimes we share our students and sometimes we keep them to ourselves. When I talked to Yoongi about how he was stressing out my students he admitted he had an eye for you, but so did I. So we agreed to share as long as I got you first. Hobi is…well he’s Hobi he’s not picky and usually is down for anything. You don’t have to do anything with them if you don’t want to. You can let me fuck you and walk out this door. It won’t affect your grade with Yoongi at all. I should have told you sooner, as soon as you got here but you in that dress…good god I had to get my hands on you.” He says running his hands up and down your hips as you whine and grind against him.

“Again you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can walk out the door right now, write your exams, and never see any of us again. Your choice princess.” He says.

You shake your head at him and slide off his lap.

You see his face fall.

And quickly turn to shock when you lower yourself down to the floor and engulf his soft cock in your warm mouth.

Namjoon grunts and grabs your hair that has started to fall out of your ponytail to keep it away from your face as you suck him down, loving the feeling of his cock starting to harder in your mouth.

You suck and bob your head as your tongue dances over the sensitive flesh.

“Fuck! Is that a yes then?” Namjoon pants above you as his hands tighten in your hair and force you to look up at him.

“Have sex with the three hottest teachers on campus? I’d be stupid to say no to that.” You tease as you jerk off his quickly hardening cock and get off your knees to get back on his lap and kiss him.

His hands tangle in your hair as he frees it from your ponytail and you kiss him wildly. Your tongues and teeth clash as you feel his now fully hard cock press into your abdomen.

“Fuck me Joon. Please.” You cry out as his hand comes down to spank your ass once more.

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you wanna rush to Yoongi?” He teases as he finally rolls the condom on his cock.

“Nah you made me wait a whole semester. If I wait any longer I’m gonna explode.” You admit as he positions his cock at your entrance and teases your folds with the tip.

“Well, I won’t make my princess wait any longer then.” He says as he inches his cock inside of you.

The sting is immediate and you bury your face in his shoulder as he pushes himself in inch by inch until he is fully sheathed inside of you, his large hands coming up to hold your hips steady and give you time to adjust to his length.

“God I made you cum and your still tight.” He grits out as it’s taking everything in him not to immediately thrust inside of you.

You take your time and slowly move your hips back and forth. His hands grip your sides harshly and he hisses every time you move.

You know he is being a gentleman and waiting for you to adjust and it makes you smile.

“Joon. Move.” You plea as he begins to thrust into you shallowly letting your body get used to the feeling of being stuffed with cock.

You let out a moan when he starts to pick up speed. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you use your legs to fuck yourself on his cock as he picks up the pace and is fucking you rather harshly.

The noise is obscene and you wonder if the other men can hear how Namjoon is fucking you. It makes your pussy clench and Namjoon lets out a hiss as he tilts his hips and pushes his cock deeper inside of you to hit your g spot.

You are moaning above him, hands holding onto his for dear life and feeling the coil of pleasure get tighter and tighter.

He must understand because one hand leaves your hip to come and circle your clit and a high whine leaves your mouth as you feel yourself get closer to the edge.

Namjoon once again picks up the pace and fucks into you harder and you capture his lips in a kiss and before you can warn him you are flying off the edge and cumming hard around his cock.

You whine against his mouth as you ride out your second high of the night and Namjoon fucks you through it. His hand leaves your clit and he continues to pound into you bringing you to the brink of overstimulation before he groans into your neck and cums hard into the condom.

You cry out when you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and his thrusts become erratic as he works himself through his own high.

You slump your body against his and let your breathing settle as he does the same.

His hands still have a vice-like grip on your hips and when he finally releases them you look down to see they are slightly red.

You grin.

“That was wow.” He says pushing his sweaty hair back from his face as you grin at him feeling euphoric.

“I agree.” You say with a smile as you climb off his lap and try to stand, only to have your legs shake and your body nearly tumbles into the couch.

Namjoon steadies you and takes the condom off his softening cock and ties it up throwing it in a garbage nearby.

You pull the straps of your dress up and search for your bra and underwear but Namjoon stops you.

“Don’t bother, save the others the trouble of taking it off again.” He says which has you gasping.

“Remember you always have a choice. You can walk out the door now or go to Yoongi.” He says as you lean against the couch and smooth everything down trying to at least look presentable.

“You know my answer Joon,” you say as you raise your eyebrows at him.

He stands up and pulls up his underwear and sweatpants. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in delight as he carries you up the stairs and to the last door on the right. He kicks it open with his foot and you find Yoongi hunched in a desk chair working on something on a laptop. His hair is messy under big headphones and he looks up with a slow smirk when Namjoon deposits you on his bed.

“Special delivery. No bra or underwear just a skimpy sundress. You’re welcome.” He teases as he winks at you and closes the door.

Now you are left alone with Yoongi having no idea what to expect.

“Did Namjoon fill you in?” He asks taking off his headphones and saving whatever he was working on.

“Yeah, he did.” You say suddenly breathless at the prospect of getting fucked…again.

“And did he take good care of you? Namjoon is the youngest of the three of us. Gotta make sure we trained him well.” Yoongi says as he rolls his chair over to sit at the foot of the bed, eyes roving over your disheveled appearance.

“Yes Sir.” You say watching Yoongi smirk at you as his hands trace small circles on your legs.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as his fingers take their time with your bare skin.

“Good. A little sore. Namjoon spanked me. But overall good.” You admit as your eyes are glued to his long fingers which are climbing slightly higher with each stroke.

“Why did he spank you kitten? Were you bad?” He mutters lowly as his hands come to your knees to part your legs.

You sit up for him and scoot your butt to the very edge of the bed and let your legs fall open. You hike your dress around your hips and give him a full view.

Yoongi’s eyes darken.

“I have this teacher called Mr. Min. He gave me so much homework I stayed up all night completing it and hardly slept. I fell asleep in Joon’s class so he had to punish me.” You tease as you watch Yoongi’s hands trail higher and higher on your skin.

His cheeks are flushed and his brown hair is falling into his eyes as he watches his hands caress your skin.

“Ah well if it were me I’d do the same thing. Naughty girls get punished.” He says giving your upper thighs a soft smack as you whine.

You start to pout but just as you stick your bottom lip out, he leans forward to kiss you.

You plant your hands on his jean-clad thighs as you lean forward to kiss him back. His lips are soft as he presses them to yours. You flutter your eyes closed and focus on the sensation of his good his lips feel against yours.

You feel your core throb with arousal and you push your lips harder into his, loving the way he grunts against you and tangles his hands in your hair.

You spend awhile just kissing and testing the waters and soon enough Yoongi pulls away and his eyes are dark, clouded with lust and you can see an obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock?” You ask as you stand up and stare at him.

“Namjoon didn’t let you suck him off?” Yoongi asks as he stands up and takes your spot on the bed. He throws you a pillow to kneel on and you take your spot between his legs palming at his bulge eagerly.

“I mean he did but hardly. Think he was too excited to fuck me.” You admit as Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh and your hands come to pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. His eyes widen when you see his cock straining against his dark boxers.

“I don’t blame him,” Yoongi mumbles as he pushes his hair back from his face to look down at you kneeling on the floor between his legs.

A sight he wants to commit to memory.

You slowly pull his jeans down and he helps you kick them off. You take in the sight of him, already looking fucked out and you hardly touched him.

“What were you working on when Joon dropped me off?” You ask as you bring your hand up to palm at his erection.

“M-Music. I make music on the side.” He admits as you push your palm into his cock and soak in the moans that are falling from his lips.

“Hard ass Mr. Min makes music on the side? That’s cool.” You tease as his eyes snap open and he stares you down dangerously.

“What did you call me?” He asks in a low voice as you hook your hands into his boxers and he lifts his hips to assist you with pulling them off.

“A hardass? Come on you knew that already.” You tease letting your hands run up and down his hard shaft, smearing the pre-cum all over it as his eyes threaten to flutter closed again.

Before he can reply you lean forward and wrap your lips around his cockhead causing him to moan and lace his fingers tightly through your hair.

You take your time sucking him, loving the feeling of your tongue lapping up his precum and loving even more that you are making big bad intimidating Min Yoongi fall apart.

You slowly take him in deeper and smirk when he grips your hair harder and bucks his cock into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to work in tandem with your mouth and you hollow out your cheeks and continue to suck him.

He throws his head back and whines as you take him deeper. By the time you get his cock down and your nose is brushing against his neatly trimmed pubes, Yoongi has his hands laced through your hair and is grunting above you.

He tastes salty on your tongue and your eyes water when your gag reflex kicks in but you do everything you can to relax your throat and swallow around him.

Rough hands tug at your hair as he pries you off his cock and you look up at him with tearful eyes, as a string of spit is still connected from your mouth to his very red cockhead which is slowly leaking more precum.

“Kitten you are far too good at that.” He complements as you smile up at him and he leans forward to grab your arms to help you up.

You stand on shaky knees as Yoongi grabs you and pushes you down on the bed. You let out a squeal of delight as he flips you onto your back. He hikes up your sundress and lets it pool around your midsection as he eyes your still-soaked core.

“You’re still all puffy for me Kitten.” He comments as one finger comes to trace at your clit and you whine and buck your hips into his hand.

“Mmm Yoongi.” You moan letting your eyes close as he teases your clit with the tip of his finger, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration and his tongue darts out to lick at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you want kitten"?” He asks plunging a finger inside of you making your body arch off the bed and your hands come to grip the sheets below.

“You. I want you Yoongi. Real bad.” You cry out as he adds another finger without warning and begins to take his time opening you up.

“You already got fucked by one man now you want another so soon. You're such a greedy kitten.” He purrs reaching up to kiss and suck at your neck.

You tangle your hands in his hair and let the sensation of his soft lips on your heated skin take over.

He takes his time plunging his fingers inside of you and stretching you out. You felt like you didn’t need stretching out after Namjoon’s cock but you weren’t about to say anything as Yoongi’s fingers felt like magic.

“Wanna come around my fingers?” He asks as his lips are still sucking at your neck and you are grinding your butt down to meet his thrusts, fucking yourself on his long fingers.

“Would rather cum on your cock.” You admit as his head snaps up and his eyes meet yours. His eyes are dark and lustful and when he pulls his fingers out he licks at them taking his time cleaning them and leaving you whining out on the bed.

“Kitten doesn’t know how to use her words.” Yoongi teases as he sees your frustration but still takes his sweet time.

You frown at him.

“Kitten did use her words you just chose to ignore them.” You fire back which causes Yoongi to pounce on you, resting his whole body weight on yours as you feel his cock press against your center.

“Did you just talk back to me?” He growls as he grabs the base of his cock and runs it through your folds.

“Sorry, Sir. Guess I’m just impatient. You like to take your sweet time.” You answer back not bothering to hide your attitude as Yoongi’s hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes bulge when he squeezes it and you let out a choked moan when he stares you down with an intensity that has your core throbbing.

His hand tightens on your neck, pressing into your pulse which has it racing against his fingertips. You flutter your eyes closed but with his free hand, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“Look at me when I speak to you. Naughty Kitten comes into the lion’s den to get fucked by three different men. Now she thinks she can sass back to a man who holds her future in his hands. I could fail you right now if I want to. I could squeeze your throat until you passed out. I could throw you up against a wall and fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a week. “

Your eyes roll in the back of your head at his words.

“Now are you going to behave or am I going to add to the spankings you already received? Hmm? Gonna drop that attitude yet or still think your hot shit around here.” He growls out as his fingers start to ease on your throat and you expand your lungs taking in as much air as you can.

“Sorry, Sir. I’ll behave.” You say softly as Yoongi smiles down at you and presses soft sweet kisses to your neck, soothing the area he just had his hand wrapped around.

He slowly gets off the bed and reaches over to the nightstand where he pulls out a foil packet. He opens it and rolls it down his hard cock, jerking himself off as he goes.

You watch him work his cock with nimble fingers and soon enough he is on top of you again positioning his cock at your entrance.

“Let me know if it’s too much.” He says softly as he slips his cockhead inside and begins to inch in slowly.

You can’t help but whine when he finally gets all the way in. His hips are flush against yours and you both breathe heavily at the sensation.

He stares down at you with hair falling into his eyes and slowly presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and sweet and the complete opposite of how he choked you earlier. You tangle your hands into his hair and give your body time to adjust.

This time it doesn’t take your body long to adjust and you start to wiggle your hips to give him the signal to move.

“You good Kitten?” He asks pulling away to stare at you.

And what a sight you were.

Hair splayed out on his pillow, eyes blown wide, and cheeks dusted with a pretty blush.

"Please.” You beg as Yoongi begins to thrust inside of you shallowly, slowly picking up the pace as he goes.

His hands are on either side of your head holding himself up as he fucks into you. You tear your eyes away from his gorgeous face to see his biceps bulging and you moan out his name.

The sound of slapping skin, grunts, and moans fill the room and you shift down to meet Yoongi’s every thrust.

But something is missing. You want more.

“Yoongi please.” You cry out when he thrusts into you harder and his cock hits that spot inside of you that has your toes curling and your lips parting in an obscene moan.

“Again Kitten use your words. Did we teach you nothing? Fuck.” He cries out as he tilts his hips to get a better angle deep inside of you.

“Choke me. Please fuck. Yoongi.” You beg as your hands come up to claw at his back.

He stops his movements. Completely stills and you whine at the loss of friction.

“You…sure?” He asks staring down at you with eyes wide. Like he couldn’t believe you had just said that.

“Please.” You beg as Yoongi smirks and slips out of you.

You let out a frustrated noise as he positions himself at the foot of the bed and taps his bare lap, signaling you to come over and ride his cock.

“Can’t hold myself up and choke you kitten. You have to decide.”

You scramble to the end of the bed and sink down on his cock. He feels so much deeper in this position and when his hand comes up to your neck you let out a moan and feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck your a vision like this with my cock stuffing your pussy and my hand around your throat.” He mutters as you use his cock and begin to ride him.

He has one hand on the bed holding himself up and the other is around your neck.

You are seeing stars, absolute stars. The pleasure from his hand around you slightly choking you and the feeling of his cock stuffing you full has you riding him harder, chasing the high you so desperately craved.

Yoongi pushes a little harder on the sides of your neck and you're a goner. You arch your back up and feel the pleasure that was building and building finally crescendo into an orgasm that punches the air out of your lungs, or maybe that was the fact Yoongi was still fucking up into you wildly and his hand was still wrapped around your throat.

“My pretty Kitten cumming with my cock stuffed inside her and my hand around her pretty neck, fuck you are so hot. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.” He blabbers as he chases his own high and is soon cumming inside of you. His hand leaves your throat to steady himself on the bed so you both don’t topple forward and hit the floor.

You let him ride out his high as you come down from yours. He buries his face in your shoulder and grunts low and dangerous as he finally stills his hips.

He slowly shifts you up and off his lap, plopping you on the bed and standing up so he can crack open a window.

The whole room reeks of cum and sex and you flop back down on his bed putting a hand on your chest to feel your heart beating rapidly.

Yoongi pulls up his boxers and fishes around in his drawers for some looser pants pulling them over his legs before he sits down beside you.

He shoots you a rare smile and you smile back at him.

“So I’m not actually going to fail your class am I?” You tease breaking the silence as he giggles and you smile at him.

“Nah that was a heat of the moment thing. You are top of my class I would have no way of failing you.” He admits and you sit up and stare at him.

“Wait really? I’m top of the class? I…wow. I didn’t expect that.” You say shyly as he messes up his hair and smirks at you.

“How? You actually show up. You hand in assignments. You work hard. There is no reason you shouldn’t be top of my class.” He says and you flush at his praises.

“Even if a teacher had to come to talk to me and tell me to lay off a little bit.” He says with a teasing tone.

“He told me he wouldn’t say specifically who!” You say with a laugh rolling your eyes to the ceiling.

“He didn’t say it was you specifically but I could tell you were working yourself to death and needed a break. Or a release.” He says wiggling his eyebrows as you smack his arm.

Before you can answer there is a knock at the door and you pull your dress down and smooth it out as Hobi appears.

“Ah just in time,” Yoongi says as he smiles up at his friend.

“I know I heard you fucking her.” He grumbles as he leans against the door frame and you take him in.

The other two you were familiar with, but Hobi was a stranger so you took your time.

Your eyes roved his lean dancer’s body and how he leaned up against the door frame and crossed his arms with ease. He looked intimidating except for the small smile on his face.

“Only if you want to Kitten. You can walk out of here now. Your choice.” Yoongi reminds you.

“I don’t want to pressure you but I’m so fucking hard right now,” Hobi admits with a bite of his lips which has you standing up on shaky legs.

In two long strides, he reaches you and holds you steady against his strong frame.

“What did you do to her? She can hardly stand.” He accuses as Yoongi smirks and grabs a sweater on the floor, throwing it over his head and making his way back over to his desk and opening his laptop.

“Have fun kitten.” He says as he winks at you and puts his headphones over his ears.

Hobi leads you out into the hall and you take a shaky breath staring up at his beautiful face.

“Only if you want to.” He says shyly and you nod.

“Words please.” He says crossing his arms and staring you down.

“Yes. I want to. Though I might be extra sore.” You say with a grimace as you feel how tired your legs are and how your ass still stings from Namjoon’s earlier spanks.

Hobi grabs your hands and leads you to his room across the hall. You enter and take in the bright walls and decor and the big bed in the middle.

You can’t help yourself as you flop down on his bed and curl up in a ball. You take in the smell of his bed sheets and you sigh as he comes to sit next to you.

“You don’t have to baby. Seriously I want this to be good for both of us.” He says massaging your back as you peek up to look at him.

“Sorry Hobi I want to. God, I want to. It’s just the last two were…intense.” You admit suddenly feeling shy when he rolls you onto your back and stares down at you.

“How about we take it slow? Let me massage you and we will see where it leads hmm?” He asks and before you can answer he rolls you onto your stomach and his long fingers begin to massage the back of your legs.

You close your eyes and rest your cheek on his bed as he gets to work. He takes his time applying pressure to your sore muscles, digging his thumbs in where he feels like you need a little more pressure being respectful the whole time, and not letting his hands trail too high up your body.

You let out a whine when he massages a particularly sore spot and you spread your legs for him wider, letting his hands dance over the skin of your inner thighs.

“God baby you’re so tight.” He mutters as his hands travel down your calves and back up again earning a broken moan from you.

“So dance teacher huh?” You ask as he continues to work your muscles this time his hand inches high on your hamstrings and you push your face into the mattress at the feeling.

“Yeah, I’ve always loved dance and music and I had some teachers change my life and the way I see dance so I decided I wanted to be just like them. I love what I do.” He says softly as his fingers dig into your flesh and you feel yourself start to relax.

“How come I’ve never seen you on campus?” You ask voice muffled by his sheets as his hands continue to work your right and left leg.

“The dance studio is the furthest away from your building. We are the complete opposite sides of campus. Can’t have us blaring our music and having fun while you are trying to study for a test.” He teases as he gives you a small smack on the ass causing you to jolt and let out a pained whine.

He lifts the skirt of your dress and stares down at the red marks Namjoon left behind. His skilled hands massage the tender flesh and you let out another satisfied moan.

“T-True. But might be nice you know, to see you guys perform, might take away some stress.” You admit as his hands still wander your butt cheeks.

“I thought that’s what we were doing here?” He teases as you crane your neck to look at him and he flashes you a toothy smile.

His hands come to your hips to flip you over to your back. You stare up at his beautiful face and lean yourself up on your elbows capturing his lips in a kiss.

His hands cradle your head and hold you steady as he kisses you back. You feel blissed out as just like the others he takes his time exploring your mouth and pushing his lips into yours.

The kisses are slow and sweet, with no urgency just two people taking their time to get to know each other.

You shift so you are kneeling on the bed and you run your fingers through his dark hair and he sighs happily against your mouth.

You let your hands explore his hair, moving down to his neck and exploring his body.

You grab the hem of his shirt and your lips part so you can pull it off of him.

You press soft kisses to his neck and collarbones and smile against his skin when he throws his head back and whines.

You take your time with his body, kissing every freckle or mole you find as he holds your hair back and allows you to explore.

You stop at the hem of his loose-fitting pants and you can already see a sizeable bulge which causes you to giggle.

"So eager.” You tease as you lean up to capture his lips again and palm at his hard cock. He whines in your mouth as you push your palm into him and make sure to grind against his cockhead.

“You have no idea what it was like. Having to sit in this room and hear Namjoon and Yoongi fuck you. Torture.” He admits as you continue to palm him through the material.

“Did you like hearing how good I was getting fucked?” You say to him as you dance your fingers along his cock which is straining against the material, when you give him a squeeze you realize he is not wearing anything underneath and you gasp.

“Had to take them off. I was so fucking hard my cock needed some room. Didn’t wanna jerk off in case I came. The noises you make. Fuck Y/N I know why Namjoon picked you.” Hobi admits as you pull his pants down and watch as his cock smacks up against his toned stomach.

You take your time circling the base of his cock with your hand and he buries his face in your shoulder and whines at your touch.

You feel yourself start to get wet but you want to take your time and focus on him, he needs this more right now.

“If I make you cum now would you be able to still fuck me?” You ask as you begin to jerk him off, applying just the right amount of pressure and smearing his precum down his aching shaft.

“I-fuck-” He says as you flick your wrist at the top and watch as he bites his lip burying his face into your shoulder harder.

“Words please.” You say with a smirk as he pulls away and stares you down.

“I can tell you have been with Joon and Yoongi. I know I’m too pent up to fuck you right now I probably wouldn’t last. So yes. Please. Make me cum and I’ll fuck you.” He says as you nod and begin to stroke him harder.

He leans up to pull you in for a searing kiss and you tighten your grip on his cock which has him moaning against your mouth.

His hands are tangled wildly in your hair and you continue to jerk his cock harder and faster until he can no longer kiss you and instead is just moaning and whining against your swollen lips.

When you run your thumb under the head of his cock his hips jerk, fucking himself into your fist.

He continues to snap his hips forward and back, using your hand as his own personal fuck toy and you let him, loving the way he throws his head back making his hair push back from his sweaty forehead and the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin.

“Gonna cum for me?” You growl as you watch his eyes flutter open and he nods.

“Cum all over my hand Hobi. Come on now. Be a good boy and cum.” You demand and he loses it.

His body convulses forward and he buries his head back into your shoulder as he cums. Ropes of hot cum coat your fist as you let him work himself through it. He is still fucking up into your tight fist and when he finally stops you release his cock and begin to lap at the cum he left behind.

“Fuckkkk.” He groans out as he watches you lick and suck the cum up, his taste exploding in your mouth as you take your time, keeping your eyes locked on his as you finish the job and completely clean yourself.

“How are you real? Holy fuck how are you real?” He whines out as you smirk at the way his jaw is dropped and his eyes are blown wide.

You smile at him as you drop down on his bed and lie on your back, your knees starting to get sore from all the kneeling you had to do.

Hobi smirks and crawls off the bed, his hands grab at your hips and he pulls you to the very edge of the bed and kneels on the floor. Your eyes widen when his hands come to your knees and he flips up the skirt of your dress and prys your legs open as he gets comfortable between them.

“Gonna eat you out.” He mutters as he places hot kisses on your thighs and you spread them open wider for him.

When his mouth finally gets to your core you are almost shaking on the mattress. He laps at your clit and begins to swirl his tongue around it making you see stars.

Your hands grip the sheets below as you bring your legs up to wrap around his back caging him in place.

He chuckles against your core and continues to suck and lick at your clit, you can hear the wetness of his tongue lapping at your wetness and it makes your pussy pulse.

His tongue runs up and down your slit and he buries his face into your core causing his strong nose to bump against your clit sending you arching off the bed and a broken moan falling from your lips

His hands hold onto your thighs keeping you steady as he licks and sucks, pressing harder and working faster as you feel your orgasm start to build in your lower stomach.

You are squirming on the sheets and his name is falling out of your mouth in a prayer as he works harder and sucks up everything you are giving him

“Ho-Hobi stop you gotta stop.” You cry out as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Not wanting to fall off too soon.

“Baby your sopping wet for me.” He says as his head pops up between your legs and you see his lips shiny with your arousal, some is even leaking down his chin, and you swear it’s the hottest sight you have ever seen.

“Want you to fuck me Hobi.” You say as you sit up and watch him get up from the floor. His cock is once again rock hard against his stomach and he smiles at you.

He grabs a condom and rolls it onto his cock, pumping himself a few times as he leans down on the bed.

“How do you want me?” He asks as you sit up and close your legs giving him room to sit next to you.

“However you want. I just don’t think I can ride you. I think my legs will literally fall off.” You say with a laugh as Hobi eyes you mischievously.

“Did you ride both Joon and Yoongi?”

You nod.

“Don’t they know there are other positions to choose from? Fuck no wonder you are tired.” He says sitting on the bed beside you and stroking your knee in a comforting way.

“Well Joon I didn’t mind but with Yoongi we had to….for…reasons.” You say blushing at the memory of his hand wrapped around your neck.

“Reasons?” He asks with a cock of his eyebrow.

“He um..was choking me. Consensually of course!” You reply as you choose to stare at the floor instead of Hobi’s surprised face.

“Kinky.” He says with a soft giggle as you face him and smile shyly.

“Okay how about this lay against the headboard feet flat on the bed, I’ll do all the work baby.” He says patting you as you follow his instructions.

You spread your legs as Hobi crawls up the bed towards you. He places his hands on the headboard to hold himself steady and is on his knees running his cock through your folds.

You let out a broken whine and his eyes snap to yours in concern.

“I’m okay just…sensitive.” You admit already knowing that having a third cock inside of you in a short span of time will only make the soreness worse.

“I’ll go easy baby.” He says as he uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips even more and he slides his cock in.

Hobi is just as big as the others and even though you have lost track of how many times you have cum you can still feel a slight stretch as he bottoms out.

You close your eyes and scrunch your face, letting your body get used to the sensation as he stills and gives you time to adjust.

“Fuck you are so wet inside. Your soaking my cock baby. So fucking wet. And all for me.” He mutters in your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He starts to thrust shallowly inside of you and you bring your knees closer to your chest giving him more access to your core as he starts to pound into you with force.

Hobi is skilled with his hips and you can see why he would be a good dancer, he alternates from wild thrusting to burying his cock deep inside of you and grinding his hips causing his cock head to brush against your g-spot.

Hobi holds your legs open almost bending you in half and giving his cock room to go deeper inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach but your eyes are too heavy to open right now so you take deep breaths and focus on the sensation.

The view you are missing is immaculate.

Hobi’s hips are thrusting deep inside of you and his head is thrown back in pleasure. His hair is sweaty and stuck to his forehead and his lips are sucked into his mouth as he works on bringing you over the edge.

You feel the coil of pleasure start to tighten and you know you are close.

Hobi is so good and once he gets into a rhythm he starts thrusting erratically making you shake on the bed and whine out his name.

Your eyes are screwed shut when you cum. Crying out his name in a broken moan that is ripped from your lungs. You want to cry from the feeling of having another orgasm as euphoria washes over you. It is too much and not enough at the same time and you feel tears slip out of your eyes when he continues to work his cock deep inside of you chasing his high.

“One more baby can you give me one more?” He asks in a desperate tone as his thrusts become erratic and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as the overstimulation is almost painful.

“Ho-Hobi please please it’s too much… fuck!” You cry when his hand comes down to circle your clit and you feel your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Want you to cum with me can you do that baby. Come on one more on my cock.” He says breathlessly as you quickly reach the edge one more time and you cry out and feel your walls pulse against his cock which twitches and cums deep inside of your pussy.

He has his cock buried all the way in and is panting above you as you both ride out your highs.

When you finally come down the soreness in your body takes over and you slump against the headboard.

He pulls out of you and tosses the condom and leaves you spread eagle on the bed. You don’t mind though you are too worried about trying to force air back into your lungs after that intense orgasm.

Faintly you hear running water and you open your eyes to see Namjoon standing there leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into his pockets.

He changed out of his clothes into soft green pj pants and a big baggy sweater, the hood was thrown over his messy hair and he stared at you affectionately.

“Come on princess we have to get you cleaned up now.” He says as he enters the room and walks over to Hobi’s window throwing it open to air out the room.

You groan and bury your face in the pillows, the last thing you want to do is stand up right now.

“Come on I got you.” He says softly as he scoops you in his arms like you weigh nothing and you bury your face in his soft sweater as he carries you towards the source of the running water.

The bathroom lights are dimmed and you see Yoongi is already there testing the water with his finger. Namjoon sets you down on shaky legs and you look around at the three men standing in the bathroom, all of them grinning at you.

Namjoon slowly slips the straps of your dress down and he lets it pool at your ankles. You step out of it as Hobi holds you up and helps you into the warm bath.

You sink into the warm water and let out a content sigh as Hobi and Yoongi leave the room, leaving you with Namoon who is still staring at you affectionately.

“Take as long as you need Princess. Towels are over there and there is a change of clothes on the vanity. It’s our stuff so it might not perfectly fit but it will do.” He says with a dimpled smile.

“Yoongi is making some food so take your time we will bring it up to you.” He says softly as he closes the door.

You inhale the lavender scent of the bubble bath and you sigh and sink deeper in the water, hoping it will ease some of the ache in your legs.

You flutter your eyes closed and aren’t sure how long you are laying there when the door cracks open and Yoongi is there with a plate of noodles that smell wonderful.

He places it on a mini folding table and leaves the room again, giving you time to eat in peace.

You spend a total of forty minutes in the bath and as you dry off and throw on the soft sweatpants and sweater someone knocks on the door and you see Namjoon standing there again.

“How do you feel princess?” He asks still leaning against the door frame as you let your hair down and throw the hood of the sweater over your messy hair.

“Relaxed. And so sleepy.” You admit as he comes behind you and hugs you, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“You did amazing tonight princess. So good for us. It’s pretty late so if you want to crash here we have a spare room. Or if you're comfortable you can sleep next to one of us. Or if you want to go home you can. Your choice.” He says as he raises his head to stare at both of your reflections in the mirror.

“Wanna sleep next to you Joon? Is that okay?” You say feeling small and safe in his arms.

He shoots you a smile as he takes your hands and leads you to his bedroom. The small bedside lamp is on and you see the duvet already rolled down. He assists you over to the bed as your legs are still shaky and he helps you get under the covers.

He crawls in on the other side and flicks off the lamp casting the room in darkness as he comes behind you to spoon you, his hands holding you flush against him.

“What time is it anyway?” You ask craning your neck to look out his window where you can see a small sliver of the moon illuminated in the sky.

“Almost eleven.” He replies as you gasp.

You didn’t think that much time had passed.

“Time flies when you're being fucked.” He teases as you smack his arm and he laughs, face buried in your neck.

“You should give me bonus marks on the exam for dealing with your terrible jokes.” You grumble as he is still chuckling behind you.

“Maybe I will.” He says as you can hear his voice drop a couple of octaves, he must be as tired as you are.

“Night Mr.Kim.” You tease pushing your butt back so it’s flush against his cock as he groans low in your ear.

“Goodnight Miss Y/N”

#Kim namjoon #Min Yoongi #jung hoseok #namjoon #jhope #bts #bts rapline #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hobi smut #namjoon/reader smut #yoongi/reader smut #hobi/reader smut #yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfiction

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himbocoups · 5 months

Text

˗ˋˏ CRAWL ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

SYNOPSIS: If there is anything about the Devil, it’s that he always keeps his promises. The problem is, he’s mad that you seemed to have forgotten his promise. Crawling for the Devil is the least of your problems.

PAIRING: devil!yjh x reader (afab)

GENRE: fantasy | smut, pwp

TAGS: featuring: sub!ksy, artist!xmh, housemate!jww | auditory voyeurism, pegging (m receiving), fingering, hickies, face sitting, oral + face fucking (m receiving), tail play, degradation, crawling, spanking, swallowing, toys, manhandling, pnv

WC: 5.2k

A/N: hello! currently working on my thesis so writing this was a way to blow off steam. I also wasn't going to write another devil!jeonghan fic so thank you to @whenyourenothere for convincing me! this can be read as a standalone fic or a part two of red horn. special s/o to @junkissed for helping me figure out the tags for this fic bc there's a lot <33 - nu ♡ | tagging: @jjeongddol

himbocoups's masterlist

It is a rusty metallic foldable chair that you sit on that squeaks and creaks even with the slightest movement. You try to readjust your posture — definitely not sure if you should sit up straight with your back against the dusty chair or with your hands folded neatly on the edge of the devil’s table in front of you. In fact, you’re not sure whether or not you are supposed to touch the devil’s office desk, so you choose to lead with the prior option. And the metal chair reacts, drawing out a long and uncomfortable creeeeak as you shift your weight backward.

Maybe you were just lucky last time, led by the Devil to believe that maybe you were worthy of being somebody special in this vast world. In this underworld where the universe’s menagerie of creatures visit with last hopes of finding a solution, you are finally coming to a conclusion that you’re only but a speck of dust in a world that knows no bounds.

The small office room feels humid and stuffy; its previously supposedly beige wallpapers are now a darker shade of brown that peels in large patches to reveal dirty and white painted-over bricks. Splotches of mold line the edges of the patches, and you find yourself wishing that mold spores aren’t a thing that exists in Hell. But it’s Hell, and anybody who dealt with mold before knows that the process of treating mold is basically hell. The navy colored carpet looks old and worn out. Several flat and black pieces of gum stick to it, already dried and surprisingly shiny in color.

On the desk and pushed to the corner is an old and vintage PC, the kind with the square monitors and the back that protrudes outwards. You can feel the heat from the computer console blow against your skin and leave a faint burnt metallic scent in its wake. Not sure what to do or if you’re supposed to do anything, you sit in silence as the devil behind the computer screen slowly types and moves his mouse on top of his mousepad to fill out the information he has in the giant manilla folder spread out in front of him.

You retract your lips inwards and bite the gummy and smooth underside of your lips while you stare at the stack of business cards pointed toward you. Craig. His name is Craig with no last name. Demon. So you’re wrong. He’s neither a devil nor is he the Devil with a capital “D” whom you were previously introduced to. He’s just office worker Craig, the demon you were assigned today.

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He asks you while lifting his mouse from the mousepad before setting it back down to readjust the roller ball underneath. Not once does he turn to look at you or make eye contact with you.

“A little,” you reply feeling awkward and a bit burdened by the question for almost no reason at all.

He nods his head while tracing his long and crooked finger against a line on the stack of papers in front of him before typing in the data in his computer. He sniffs and snorts his phlegm while clearing his throat. It was just small talk; there is no way an office worker in Hell would care about your wellbeing. You find yourself wondering if central cooling is a thing in Hell while trying to peek at the contents of your surprisingly large folder with no avail.

This room, this office worker, this situation…none of this is the same as the beautiful and luxurious office space you imagined stepping in for the second time. Long gone is the plush gray Persian rug and the mahogany desk that belongs to the owner himself. And your large file that is spread out before the demon you’re assigned, you cannot help but think about the event or even events that could have possibly added to the flimsy pieces of paper the Devil flipped through when he first met you. And the thought of Craig reading your file only causes your face to heat up in embarrassment.

“Um.” You force yourself to break the awkward silence. “May I use the restroom before we start? You still haven’t asked me what I’m here for, and I think I accidentally came under the assumption that I would be assigned to the same person. I’ll be quick in case you need me immediately.”

“Down the hall,” the demon mumbles while hunching his back to allow himself to squint closely at the screen in front of him.

Picking yourself up from your seat, you basically fling yourself out of the office while thinking about the fresh air that awaits you in the hallway. No thoughts about the demon nor suspicions regarding the fact that the demon didn’t really point you towards a particular route to the restroom floated in your mind. Coming here was a mistake, and you are willing to face any repercussions for walking out of a meeting with a demon if it means having to save yourself from the embarrassment of having that demon read your file regarding your previous request with the Devil.

However, what awaits you on the other side of the door isn’t the hallway from which you entered the office you were in. Instead, you find yourself in an oddly familiar bedroom. Light navy blue floor-length curtains cover the window with their original pleats from when it was first purchased about a year ago still intact. Pushed against the window is the full-sized bed with the orange-stained wooden headboard and the mess of frost blue blankets haphazardly strewn on the mattress. The soft and rotund tiger plush lays threateningly close to the edge of the bed, able to be toppled over even with the slightest movement on the mattress.

The owner of this bedroom is in the middle of it all. Kwon Soonyoung kneels on his bed with his legs spread and his ass up. He already looks so fucked out. His left cheek is pressed against his mattress while he looks back at you with his hands tied behind his back. The position he’s in doesn’t seem comfortable at all, but his expressions, demeanor, and soft whimpers coming out of his mouth digress.

“Please,” he practically begs you from his pitiful position. You can see how his lean thighs tremble while he struggles against his restraints. He wails with such desperation, “I want it. I want it so badly,” so much that it almost sounds as if he is going to cry from your lack of action.

You don’t realize it until now, but an object manifests itself in your hands. A thick and ribbed silicone dildo, one that you’re too familiar with, is being stroked by you unconsciously. You feel the girth of it and how the lube it’s coated with prepares the toy for insertion.

Then comes the teasing. You find the words naturally flowing out of your mouth: “Conciseness in your language, Soonie. What is it that you want?”

But the thing is, you know what comes next. You know what his response is as you slowly make your way over to him.

“Peg me. I’m ready,” he gasps while a tiny translucent pearl gathers at the tip of his dangling cock. “Blow my back out.”

You already know exactly how many times you will yourself to slap his ass to prep him before his legs give in. You already know how lewdly he would gasp as you insert the tip of the toy, how he would bury his face in his blankets as he moans out loud. You find yourself repeating actions as if being controlled by a machine, yet you don’t hate it. You’re magically stuck in a limbo between reality and déjà vu, presently recreating the past.

You feel his walls sucking in the toy, taking it in so well. Like a special switch in an escape room, once you grab onto his aching cock to stroke him while you peg him, the scene immediately switches.

Naked and in the middle of a studio apartment that reeks of paint fumes and essential oils, you look at yourself through the standing mirror in front of you. Despite the fan blowing in the background and the apartment windows propped open, you don’t feel cold at all. Instead, your skin pricks with heat as the sensation of arousal gathers itself at your core and spreads to the tips of your fingers. Beneath you is a mop of platinum blonde hair of the artist who sits by your feet.

Xu Minghao gently grabs you by the waist so that he can angle you so that you can get a better view of his artwork on your body. You remember that with him, you always felt safe and appreciated. He traces his slender finger along the length of your thigh, bringing it up to your ass. He makes you feel valuable through your soreness, the entirety of your right ass cheek covered in his carefully placed hickies. Your pussy throbs with eagerness, waiting to be filled before all of the juices run dry.

“My work of art,” he mumbles before he brings his lips to your ass cheek. In the open space where the bruises connect, he bites it with his teeth and swirls the flesh in between his teeth with his tongue. His left hand makes its way to your opening, thumbing the smooth nub that immediately makes your knees buckle. So he positions himself behind you, strongly wrapping his long right arm around your legs to keep you steady as he nips and sucks while he takes your time to circle your clit before he finally slips his finger in your core as if the action is like second nature to him.

Pleasure builds in your soul and makes your body scream with pleasure as Minghao meticulously massages your inner walls, stroking and tapping your spongy insides as you writhe in his arm. He adds another finger, filling you up and building your high, scissoring you while you moan his name as your liquid drips down his fingers and collects in his palm.

“Done,” he breathes as he shifts his body so that he sits between your open legs. You can feel how his warm breath hits your skin as he speaks with his lips nearly on your cunt, “Flower on your ass. Sweet and puffy rose sitting on my face.”

Before you can re-experience all of what it felt like to sit on Minghao’s face like a chair, you find yourself in another room. This time, you’re in your own place in the room next to yours. From the placement of the desk to how the bed is pushed against the corner of the room, flush against the wall, the layout of this room directly mirrors your own. There are a lot more notecard art prints taped to the wall than you last remembered. The LED lights built into his mechanical keyboard softly pulses as it switches colors. And there is the all too familiar smell of his laundry detergent and dryer sheets that fills his room — he had just unloaded his laundry from the dryer, but didn’t have time to fold his clothes as they still sit in the laundry basket placed in front of his closet.

You’re not sure if you’re allowed to be here at all. It’s not often that you find yourself in Jeon Wonwoo’s bedroom, but when you do, you’re usually near the threshold of his door. And to be sitting on his plush gray sheets, you think it feels too intrusive. Still, you’re not sure if you should move from your comfortable position despite the fact that you’re not close enough to him to enter his bedroom just to chill without him present. And the worst of all, you’re pretty sure you’re still soaked from your previous encounter with Minghao. And that you’re still definitely in hell because there is no way you would ever allow yourself to feel this close to coming on Wonwoo’s bedsheets without his permission.

Two soft knocks on the door diverts your attention to the closed door.

“Yn,” Wonwoo's deep and tender voice calls your name from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay? I’m coming in.”

The thing is, this occurrence with Wonwoo had never happened before. You’re stuck in a scenario far different from the other two. So, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when you saw him walk through his bedroom door. Instead of the tall and built housemate that you sometimes find yourself secretly fawning over, is the sinister yet charming man you haven’t seen in ages.

Yoon Jeonghan steps into your housemate’s bedroom with the irresistible charm of his while flaunting an oversized black t-shirt whose sleeves almost touch his elbows. The Devil is here, and he knows everything that you’ve been hiding from him.

He slams the door behind him and takes long and fast paced strides toward the bed until his figure towers over you. And the Devil himself smirks as he purposely leans down until his bangs dangle in front of his forehead and your entire upper body is pressed against Wonwoo’s sheets. His right hand presses into the space next to your left shoulder as he looks down at you with a pitiful look on his face.

“What?” He almost scoffs at you in his beautiful light and airy voice. “You didn’t once stop to think that maybe all of this was my doing? That you would relive your memories with who was it? Kwon Soonyoung and Xu Minghao? You’re more fucking stupid than I remembered. Were you fucked too hard by Seungcheol that you lost a few braincells? Or was it with Joshua when you accidentally hit your head too many times against the inside of his car door?”

He cocks his head to the side as he grabs your chin with his left hand. Cold to the touch, this miniscule action has you struggling to catch your breath. He tilts your head left and right as if to carefully inspect what is his.

“My pet,” he coos while letting go of your chin. Where his cool fingertips touched your skin now pricks with burning heat. And he takes his time to kneel on the bed while still hovering over your body. “This is the bedroom of the guy you get off to? You don’t think I know about how often you touch yourself while he fucks the people he brings over to this bedroom? And now you’re horny again? You want to fuck on the bed of the guy you want so deep in your gut?”

As stupid as you are, you find yourself shell shocked and in awe at the Devil on top of you so much that you unconsciously nod in agreement to every single humiliatingly detailed sentence that comes out of his mouth. The topic isn’t about Jeonghan and you, but the sexual tension established between the two of you knocks on your pussy and makes your mouth go dry. Fuck, maybe he is right. Fucking other men over the span of time since you last saw Jeonghan could never amount to what you felt when you were fucked by the Devil. Lost in your delusions, you could only get off to what you couldn’t have. And when the world’s most untouchable creature is currently so close to you that the collar of his black tee hangs so low that you can peek through the hole to see the expanse of his lean body, the warning signals your brain is desperately trying to send you are unfortunately dispelled by the eagerness of wanting to take a second dip.

“How much do you want me?”

“Enough,” you reply while staring straight into his eyes.

He wastes no time by pulling out his cock from his sweats as you sit up from your previous position. Cold and hard are the two adjectives you can use to describe the feeling of him tracing his cock along your open lips. But he won’t let you touch him. He won’t let you kiss him. He lets you starve as your eyes flitter between his cock on your mouth and his deceivingly beautiful face as he pumps his cock. And he taps his member on your lips, telling you to open your mouth wider. And you can feel him slip himself through the hole you made, how the veins on the underside feel against the smooth and warm inner part of your lips. You’re hungry. Starving. Basically wishing that he’ll let you close your mouth around him and suck him to the point you’re reminded that he had no soul to begin with.

So when he commands you to suck, you do as he says. You lick the tip, wetting and coating it with your saliva. Swirling your tongue around the length, you warm up the member in your mouth as more of his salty taste coats your tongue. Then you close your lips around him in a perfect “O” while shifting yourself on your knees so you can take him better.

You suck, hollowing your cheeks while gliding your mouth along his length. God, how you bend so easily for him. Your eyelids flutter as you continue to take him along his curved length. And moan while your mouth is plugged, a muffled moan of ecstasy when you feel him twitch while sandwiched between your lips. To make matters worse, whenever you look up at him as you edge yourself to take him in further, you see that he looks perfectly composed.

“Wider, slut,” he tells you while pumping what you can’t take. His hand is on your jaw again, and he squeezes your jaw between his long fingers so that it stays open. Your pool of saliva escapes the corners of your lips and trails along your chin before it drops on Wonwoo’s sheets. And he fucks himself in your mouth by manually moving your head along his length, barely giving you enough time to flatten your tongue against the whole of his length. He pushes his length into your mouth and groans when you gag.

He fucks your mouth to find satisfaction and get off on your uncomfortableness, watching you moan while struggling to keep up with his pace. His hand leaves your jaw and attaches itself to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair as he uses it to swing your head back and forth like the ping pong ball attached to a paddle toy. The two of you know that the rate in which he fucks your mouth is too much for you, yet you find pleasure in being used by the higher being while he fucks your mouth to the sounds of you struggling against his cock and the wet smack of your lips when you spit him out after he comes. You swallow what you have and hurriedly wipe the liquid white off your chin and lips. You watch him tearfully as he finishes with his cock in his hand and his seed on the bedsheets and your thighs.

“I- I’m sorry,” you stutter as his angry red length bounces in front of your teary eyes. You want to lean in again to put him between your lips before he can punish you. You want him to call you names and make you feel bad about yourself. You want him to pump himself while he looks at you attacking the slit on his tip like how you want him to eat you out. You want to swirl your tongue around the spongy smooth surface before using the tip of your tongue to dig into the area in which his precum emits.

Your thighs rub together to ease the unsatisfied throb of your core. You need stimulation from him in any way. Just a kiss. A touch. Anything from Jeonghan would probably edge you to completion, but he doesn’t want to help you. And you don’t want to give up this opportunity with him.

“I’m s-sorry Jeonghan. Jeonghan, I’m sorry. Please…,” you plead as you watch him look down on you with a face of disappointment. You want to physically reach out to him to tell him you’ll do better, to tell him to give you another chance. But you see him take a few steps backwards and you’re sent into a state of frenzied lust and panic. You’ve never been so desperate to please, to complete a request from a man. You’re so deluded by the Devil that it feels as if your entire world will end if you don't please him or hold yourself up to his standards.

Gone is the man who called you his Angel the first time he met you. In front of you is the Devil who willfully draws you in, who has you stumbling off of your housemate’s bed just so that you can crawl your way over to him in your blissful haze. The more Yoon Jeonghan steps backwards, the more your vision tunnels on his body as you crawl across the bedroom floor, not caring about how uncomfortable the hardwood floor is underneath your palms and your knees.

When you come to your senses, you realize that it’s a different kind of hardwood underneath your body. Your naked body is displayed on all fours on Jeonghan’s large mahogany office desk like an object on display. You don’t even remember if you had your clothes on in the first place. But it feels as if the Devil suddenly wanted to bring one of the several trinkets he has displayed along his office wall to play with at his desk. You were confident that you could show him how much you’ve changed since you last saw him. Yet he has a way of proving how wrong you are. You’re no match for the Devil, and he intends to keep it that way. And in a way, to be displayed in front of him, it makes you feel as if you’re one of his prized possessions.

Your eyes watch him as he circles around his desk while he looks you up and down. He’s no longer in his t-shirt and sweats, but in a classic white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black tailored slacks. Golden and thin-wired circular glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. Protruding from the top of his head are his red horns. And this time, the long and forked tail that he previously kept hidden swishes behind his back. He brings the length of his long tail up to his left hand before tightly coiling it around the palm of his right hand like a long red rope. And one look from him through his glasses, a satisfying smirk and an arched brow, you know that you’re done for.

He takes the tip of his tail and traces it along your naked body, causing your body to jolt and shudder in response. He uses it like a teacher’s pointing stick, the tip running smoothly along the curvature of your body. He’s purposely toying with you, watching you try not to squirm every time he traces his tail anywhere near your glistening cunt.

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He jests while planting himself at the edge of his desk behind your ass. It hits you that you heard this question before, and only now do you realize that the Devil has been playing with you all along. You feel him trace his tail along your cunt, letting a prong trace along your folds as if it were his finger.

“Fuck!” you gasp out loud. “That was you?”

You feel the stinging pain on your ass after you hear the crisp slap ring into the air. Your stomach tightens as your pussy clenches in response.

“Shut the fuck up Yn,” he grunts. “Cumsluts can’t talk.”

You moan when you feel his tail go underneath a fold, causing your thighs to go weak. But he pulls his tail away from your core to tap it against your outer thigh. Hold yourself up, the action seems to say. So you gather your strength to maintain your position, ignoring the soreness in your knees and the fact that he’s been with you ever since you stepped into “Craig’s” office. When you spread your thighs, your sensitive cunt opens up like a flower in bloom, warm and wet against the stale office air. Jeonghan doesn’t ravish its beauty like how Minghao often does. He doesn’t want to.

Although your forearms are tired and your thighs burn from exhaustion, your pussy pulsates like it’s its own living entity — full of life and eager to be filled. Right now, only Jeonghan can grant these conditions. And you’re willing to wait even if your horniness drives you mad.

He firmly grabs your ass, angling it so that your glistening pussy is in full view.

“From this point on, I’m going to make you scream my name like a requiem made for angels.” He forcefully pulls your ass back so that it’s pressed against his stomach while he leans over your figure so that his mouth is near your left ear. “I’ll ruin you if you try to crawl away. But I’d like to see you try.”

You’re pretty sure you already soaked his shirt in the place where your core was pressed against the fabric. It amazes you how he easily flips your body so that you’re laying flat on his desk with your legs propped up against the wood. Any further back, you would be in a mating press.

You wonder if he can read your mind, how much you want to ride him up and down his length and for him to coat you so much that you’re left with soft and silken skin. Even if he tied your hands behind your back, you would still go on your knees to unbuckle his belt with your teeth.

He’s been sensing your urgency since you summoned him. Looking at your sopping cunt and dragging the tip of his tail along your clit, he decides to ease the heat in your stomach by slowly pushing his tail into your core. You moan in response as you slowly adjust to its size, feeling everything from the way it fills your walls to the way it is as smooth as a glass dildo. You shudder at the way he pulls it out of you for a mere second before pushing it back into you, causing your stomach to twitch and your thighs to close around his hand.

He leaves his tail in you while he pries your thigh apart.

“What’s the use in thinking about mounting my cock if you can’t even keep your legs open? What’s an ego if you can’t even embody it correctly?” he mocks you before bringing down the hand that once held his tail against your heat. The impact feels as hot as the way your arousal burns. You cry out in elated pleasure; one convulsion is enough to push the tail halfway out of you. “Useless excuse of a human,” he laughs at you before grunting as he pushes his tail back inside, twisting it as he plunges it in and out of you. “You’re all talk, yet you bend at the thought of me.”

Cock-deprived, you clench around his tail as you gasp for air. Your pussy sucks the tail in and refuses to let go, making you mewl for Jeonghan to fuck you hard while he thrusts his tail in and out of you. “Nn-nh. Jeonghan! Ah- Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Use me.” You squeal and moan out loud as your high builds at an incredible speed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back arches off the desk and you feel as if you’re levitating. “I’m gonna come.”

“Come.”

You cream at his command, coating his instrument in a thick and white sheen. Your stomach folds inwards as you whimper from the pleasure. He pulls his tail out of you while coaxing more out of you by lightly tapping your nub as you convulse. Overstimulated, you come another time, babbling his name and telling him how good you feel as you squirt against his slender fingers.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You made a mess on my table only from my tail. What’s going to happen when you take my cock? You’ve already folded yourself into a fucking fetal positon, Yn.”

You can feel your liquid drip from your pussy to your ass before it pools on the table underneath you. You feel so relieved and relaxed from your high, but there is still this insatiable need for the Devil to fuck you.

When he does, his cock fills you and squeezes you dry. His head rubs against the top of your walls while his veins work like a ribbed toy — adding more pleasure than you have ever experienced. Fingers digging into your thighs, he pulls out and slams back into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You want to scream out his name as you clench around his length, sucking him in and never wanting to let go. But the image in front of you is a sight to behold, leaving you breathless as you watch it unfold.

You watch him through your half-lidded eyes, the scene of him as he throws his head back. You can see the way he swallows your cum that coats the tail he sucks in his mouth, how his Adam’s apple bobs when the liquid travels down his throat. You’re nothing but an instrument for his pleasure, and he sure knows how to show it.

He bucks his length into you so that it kisses the deepest parts of you, causing you to gasp and quake in your stomach. And he keeps it there with his legs pressed against your ass and the underside of your thighs. Slowly grinding against you, he revels in how you choke from the size of him and how you clench and unclench as if you’re struggling to hold on.

He pops the tail out of his mouth, a long string of saliva like a web between the tip of his prong and his tongue. He looks like a character from a lewd illustration, so beautiful yet so deadly. And you find yourself into another dimension as he thrusts further into you, grunting as he watches you scream for him.

“Fuck!,” you scream as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re going to tear me apart.”

“Gonna,” he grunts between every thrust, increasing his pace with every word. “Make. You. Feel. Everything.”

Your entire body trembles with pleasure, your breathing erratic. He continues to thrust into you, talking with his sweet tongue about how your slick and puffy pussy drives him insane.

“There’s nobody in this world who can fuck like I do,” he reminds you. “Now squeeze me hard as I cum in you. We’re going to be making a new type of liquid.”

#svthub #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #✏️ ━ himbocoups

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auroreliis · 8 months

Note

Ughhhhh i love love love the one with Bruce protecting the reader from her brothers I've already read it like idk 5 times? Maybe 6 can you do the same thing with the other boys it reminds me of my brothers and their shenanigans and our happy days

Platonic Yandere!Bruce Wayne

Summary: Your father protects you from your brothers #2

CW: no warnings

(not edited or proofread)

You crossed you arms and furrowed your brows as you were forced to endure the constant mouse clicking and keyboard clatter.

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked around the messy room in boredom. Your brother, Tim, really wanted to spend some time with you, but he had so much work to do, so he forced you to sit on his lap instead.

It felt like you had scanned over this room at least a tousand times. He tried to clean it regularly so you would at least enter it, but it was still messy.

On the desk in front of you sat a mug filled with coffee. Right when you looked at it, he grabbed it and drank from it.

The steam which once protruded from the mug had faded away long ago.

"How can you drink cold coffee?", you were the first to break the silence.

He simply shrugged and smiled, "You get used to it."

You hummed, eyeing the mug. If you were to knock it over, perhaps you could have a reason to leave his room.

Your only worry was that he would figure you out immediately and remove the mug from your reach, so without thinking, you pretended to accidentally knock the mug onto your lap.

"Oh! Whoops...I should get changed...", you looked up at him expectantly.

The look he gave you indicated that he knew why you spilled coffee over yourself and him, but he just sighed and told you to leave.

You wasted no time exiting his room and closing his door after leaving, but you heard it open again as you were walking away.

You turned around. He was also exiting his room.

"Do you mind helping me clean up?", he asked innocently, "You did spill my coffee on me, after all." He saw the opportunity to clean with you.

Your eye twitched at that. Just when you thought you had gotten away.

"Oh...I am sooo sorry, but dad actually wanted to talk to me about something, so I will be doing that, if you don't mind?", you stuttered.

The slight frown idicated that he knew you were lying, but he had to make the most of it, so a smile returned to his face as he caught up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Sure, I also have to talk to Bruce, so let's go together", you glanced at him, very convinced that behind that grin, he was lying.

What made Tim so annoying was his perseverance. He just never gave up, did he?

He took you to the batcave, where your father was sitting at the Batcomputer, and patted you on the back, waiting for you to initiate your conversation.

"Heeeey...dad?", you waited for him to turn to you.

"Sooo....you wanted to talk to me about something, right?", you had taken a few steps towards him, in order to hide the fact that you were gesturing to Tim with your eyes.

He immediately caught on and closed the file on the computer before getting up, "Yes, I had an idea to improve your stay here, let's discuss it over some tea, alright?"

Bruce placed his hand on your shoulder as he guided you out the cave.

Tim was left there dumbfounded, before he remembered that coffee left stains.

~~~~~

"Hold still!", Damian all but shouted.

"I've been sitting here for hours!", you complained. "Just take a picture of me and use that as reference!"

Currently, Damian, your youngest brother, was using you as reference for a painting. In order to assure you would agree, he cuffed you to a chair in his room.

You looked up at him to see why he didn't reply to your protest, only to see him with furrowed eyebrows. Perhaps he was focused. Maybe he was angry. You could never really tell when it came to Damian. Seeing as he wasn't responding to your whining, you just sighed in defeat.

A knock on the door caused you to startle.

"Damian? Have you seen-", Bruce entered the room before looking at you. "Ah, there you are. Do you mind if I steal them for a moment?"

Damian mithered, "If they move now, the pose won't be the same later. I'd like to finish this painting first."

Bruce walked over to inspect the painting Damian was working on.

"It's nice, but won't that take a while? How about you take a picture of them, then the pose stays the same and they don't have to be present."

"It's not the same, besides I'd rather spend time with my actual sibling instead of a picture", Damian gave his best puppy eyes.

Bruce hummed before looking at you, who was trying their best to look sad. Apparently that wasn't working, so you'd have to change the subject.

"Dick is going back home tomorrow, right? He told me he wanted to spend time with me and Damian, perhaps we could do that?", your eyes darted between the two of them, seeking both of their approval.

"Aww! That's so sweet!", a new voice chimed in. Crap. That was Dick. When you said that, you hadn't actually intended to spend time with either of them, but now you would have to.

You laughed awkwardly as you looked to the door and saw Dick leaning on it.

"Hi", was all you could say with the way your throat was constricting.

Bruce looked at Damian questioningly. To be honest, you would rather sit in silence with Damian than talk to Dick, but the choice was not up to you anymore.

"Very well, we shall spend time with Richard. However, I will be taking your picture first, as I would like to finish this painting. I suppose it would take too long with the amount of detail I would like to add, so you may be absent this time", he explained, snapping a picture of you before uncuffing you.

You rubbed your wrists. They were all red. The handcuffs used to hurt, but you had gotten used to them by now.

"Hey, why don't you also come along?", you looked up at Bruce, who was still looking at your wrists.

If he was there, then he would have some control over the others, so you were elated when he agreed. In fact, you even grabbed his hand as you were following Dick.

You did notice the smile on his face, but you pretended to not see it, simply smiling to yourself.

How bittersweet. The man who kidnapped you protected you like a guardian angel would.

#tim drake #yandere tim drake #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne #bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #batfam #platonic yandere #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #dc comics #x reader

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick.

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty.

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful.

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased.

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.”

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.”

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available.

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe.

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not.

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time.

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity.

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.”

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?”

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.”

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache.

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response.

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password.

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind.

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin.

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time.

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.”

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it.

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.”

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin.

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!”

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment.

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?”

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest.

No. No, no, no.

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her.

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.”

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television.

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.”

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true.

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning.

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.”

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it.

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight.

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.”

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh.

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.”

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess.

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.”

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up.

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion.

You don’t.

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions.

But then your mind wanders.

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now.

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world.

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips.

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!”

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?”

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.”

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?”

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment.

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.”

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class.

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!”

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own.

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement.

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before.

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak.

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?”

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times.

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there.

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.”

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry.

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.”

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with?

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions.

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table.

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind.

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love.

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier.

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on.

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories.

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high.

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool.

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed.

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him.

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him.

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call.

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all.

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink.

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made.

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

#maroon #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #lowkey terrified to post this oh god #oh well

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petscoboba · 1 year

Photo

Finished up some ABoT art that I started a month or so ago!

Image ID under cut:

[Image ID: Four images, all of which are fanart for Phantomrose96′s Mob Psycho 100 fanfic, A Breach of Trust:

The first one is of Reigen and Ritsu, the camera panned at them looking at a computer screen in a dark, cluttered basement surveillance room. Reigen’s sitting at the main desk; his hand is over the mouse and he about to type on the keyboard. Ritsu is just behind him, silently and timidly looking at the screen while tightly holding onto Reigen’s shoulder. The coloring of the picture is muted and a consistent, dingy green.

The second image is also some drawings of Reigen and Ritsu: one drawing has Ritsu, silently crying as he tries to sew back together a red torn-apart teddybear. He is holding the needle in one hand, and the thread threaded through it leads to the blood stains of his other cut up and bandaged hand. The other drawing is a greyscale digital painting of Reigen and Ritsu waiting. Reigen looks impatient, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, and Ritsu looks sheepish. Ritsu is holding his bandaged hand and looking at the floor.

The third and fourth images are similar except for minor alterations. They both have Ritsu drawn in a bright red and blue color scheme. He is reaching out his hand, which is full of a plethora of small cuts, as he stares horrified at the aura coming out of it. In one version of the drawing he is fully rendered, whereas the other he is only a silhouette. End ID.]

#ABoT #a breach of trust #Ritsu Kageyama #reigen arakata #okay listen. ignore the fact that I forgot to draw reigens cut up hand for the first one. just believe in it and it'll come true. i promise #but in other news! when season 3 was airing i thought it would be a good idea to reread and catch up on abot again!#i have stuck with this fanfic for a couple years now and i have been so grateful for it the whole way through.#thank you so much for writing it chrissy. your style and diction has been a constant inspiration for me these past four years #and i can't wait to see what's to come :) thank you!!

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flexxyfluxx · 3 months

Text

do you truly own your computer, if the only system you can ever have on it is the one the manufacturer chose?

do you truly own your computer, this wonderful, universal machine, if its ability to do whatever you desire has been hamstrung by its creator?

do you truly own your computer if anyone else can restrict your freedom of choice in any way, ever?

do you own your macbook? your windows machine? can you truly make them yours, when you cant even change what they look like?

sure, it gives you a paltry few dials and knobs, lets you change the text a lil, use some different colors.

but what if the way your system lets you use it is just fundamentally foreign and awkward to you? what then? what good is a fresh coat of paint when all the cogs are one size too small, but put in place as if they were one size too big?

and yet, so many people are just ...fine with it. they don't mind having to drag the mouse all the way across the fucking screen to switch to a different window (yes, alt-tab exists, but your mouse doesn't follow). they don't mind having to alt-tab through more than 2 windows, missing the window they meant to go to, and having to cycle all the way through again.

it makes me a bit sad.

i think the problem is that nobody ever tells them it gets better than that. they think it's fine because it's all they've ever known, and well, surely millions and billions of people can't be wrong... right??

the other problem is that the systems they know don't let them do it better. using Windows? you must use the Windows way. using Mac? it's the Mac way for you. in either case, not truly your way.

but oh, wouldn't that be wonderful, a system that defines itself by just letting you have fun and be yourself. that doen't try to prescribe a way to do things. that lets you choose your own way. where you can truly do whatever the fuck you want, however the fuck you want. that lets you just own the device in your hands.

where you aren't stuck with whatever you're given. where you don't even have to use what you're given at all. where you as the user are truly respected as the owner of your system.

#official linux propaganda post #linux #windows #macos #windows would be so fucking dead if market share was anything approaching equal #macos survives only by merit of being Not Windows #reject big tech hegemony #install a linux of *your* choice today!

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pedropascallme · 6 days

Text

Lessons in Patience

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v, spanking, biting, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), very brief mention of bondage, brattamer!Damien, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, cum play, daddy kink, praise, degradation (use of the word slut. Like, a lot), if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Guys I might be a whore. And also I don't know how Elden Ring works.

The room was still. Only soft background noise reminded you of your surroundings; the dishwasher churned across the house, loud enough to hear it from behind the closed door of the bedroom. In the far corner, Damien sat at the computer, and you listened to the inconsistent clicks of the keyboard and brush-like strokes of the mouse. The TV at the foot of the bed where you lounged played reruns of shows you’d never watched when they were originally airing, and the lull of voices and laugh tracks roused you from an otherwise silent repose.

You liked the lazy days; the days when you had nothing to do, when Damien had nothing to do, when neither of you had anywhere to be, and neither of you had anything to get done; you could just take up space in the house together without the fear of being late to something, or worrying about whether you’d be home for dinner.

Really, beyond that, it was about the love you had for him even in the stillness; the way his presence soothed you from across the room, the occasional moments where he’d disconnect himself from whatever he was messing with on the computer to grab at your leg lazily and squeeze your thigh—like he was relieved to feel you still there next to him.

It was a relief to have an unhurried day, where you could dawdle and stay in bed and do nothing. But days like this always gave you the time to let your mind wander—allowed you to fantasize about all the things that could take up the quiet space of the bedroom. And Damien was always at the center of your thoughts, always in the foreground of your daydreams, making you feel warm and fuzzy.

And who could blame you? He sat with his back to you in the desk chair, long-sleeved shirt hugging his biceps, and you could make out the faint lines of his shoulder blades when he stretched. His hair, grown out enough now that his brown roots were visible under the silver dye, fell over his ears and eyes, and curled inwards at the nape of his neck. When he pushed his bands from his face, you could see small tan lines that had formed on the fingers he usually wore rings on. You bit your lip, recalling the contrasting feel of the cold metal and his warm hands against you. Inside you.

His nail polish was chipped, maybe you’d paint them for him tonight.

Still half-dressed in just a shirt, fabric barely hitting your thighs, you stretched yourself out of bed; your feet hit the floor before you actually stood up, back still resting on the mattress before you found the motivation to push yourself off with your elbows and stand up straight.

You padded over to Damien and wrapped your arms around his neck, hands falling over his front and nails scraping gently at his chest and stomach. He reached behind the chair, trying to pull you forward and allow himself to get a better grip on your waist.

“Hi, baby,” He turned the chair slightly and encouraged you to face him.

“Hi,” You followed his lead, situating yourself to stand between his knees, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down to kiss him. “I want you, Damien.”

“Me, Damien?” He laughed up at you, and you made a face in jest.

“Please?” You tugged on his shirt, bunching the fabric over his chest and pulling. He held your wrist limply in his hand.

“I gotta finish here,” he removed your grip from his shirt and kissed your knuckles, “Then I’ll give you anything you want, princess.”

“You have to finish playing Elden Ring?” You ribbed his professional tone, “That’s a must right now?”

“Just need to—I’m running through it so that I know what to expect on stream. I'll be at a save point soon.” He reached out to trail his fingers over the exposed part of your thigh. You hummed at the contact, the heat from his fingers leaving a gentle path over your skin. You wanted so desperately to have him, to feel all of his body against you, but you respected that he was in the middle of something.

Still. That respect only went so far; if it had been emails, Smosh related or otherwise, or editing, maybe you would’ve exercised more patience. Would’ve crawled back into bed and turned up the volume on the TV a bit to keep yourself occupied. But both of you knew Twitch streams were of a more minor importance to him than something like voice acting calls with his agent or zoom calls with coworkers; you considered his transparency about what he was doing as him giving you permission to play dirty.

Especially since you could tell he was nearly done with this run through—you recognized the save point as it approached.

“Ok,” you purred, the picture of innocence despite the thoughts running through your mind, “I’ll just start by myself.”

“Yeah?” Damien looked up at you, turning his chair back to face the computer with his brow raised, amused. “Good luck.” He resumed the game.

You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing.

You lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers gliding over the skin of your stomach and downward to your cunt. You pressed two fingers to your clit, working up the courage to make a sound, give him a signal that you had followed through on your threat. Your body responded in kind to the feather light touches you gave yourself, and without having to try, a breathy moan escaped your throat.

You watched Damien square his shoulders.

“Better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He didn’t turn around, still moving the mouse.

“Just making good on my promise." You whispered, sweet and quiet. You continued rubbing circles over your clit, exciting the nerves throughout your body, the natural lubricant of your slick becoming more apparent as your arousal grew.

Damien turned the chair around, still sitting as he watched you touch yourself. You paused your movements to make eye contact with him, and you could see the way his eyes darkened when he lowered his gaze and saw your hand connected to your bare cunt.

“Well keep going, then,” his voice was like gravel, “You want to do it yourself? I won’t stop you.” He folded his arms, nodding at you, “Let me see you struggle to make yourself cum, baby. Want to see how hard it is for you to do what I do.”

His words ignited something inside you; fueled by playful spite and an urge to continue your bratty show, you plunged two fingers into your heat. You took a sharp breath, lips parted as you curled your fingers to press against the soft flesh within you. The muscle in Damien’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared just enough for you to notice. You just smiled.

“Feels good, daddy.” You squirmed slightly around the intrusion of your own fingers. In truth, your own hands could never provide the type of bliss his could; yours were smaller, shorter, all-around inferior to his when it came to providing you satisfaction.

But that wouldn’t stop you from trying. Not when you had a show to put on.

Damien shifted in his seat, bottom lip between his teeth while he watched you fuck yourself open as best you could. “I bet.”

You lifted your hips from the mattress, supporting yourself with your back, feet planted firmly on the bed. This new angle was a godsend; you could reach deeper within yourself, the crevices of your walls shifting around your fingers and showing you the hidden spots that knocked wind from your lungs. “Fuck—oh my god.”

“I’d have gotten you there by now, you know.” Damien seethed in his chair, unmoving, teeth gritted. “Would’ve been so much better if you let daddy do it for you.”

He knew you were struggling to find the tipping point, knew you had to stretch your fingers to reach the spots that required stimulation, knew you were imagining his hand instead of yours.

“Don’t need—don’t need daddy to do it for me,” your smile was absolutely devious, and the moans that fell from your mouth downright filthy. “I can do it by myself. I can…so close...”

“Show me, then.” He demanded, standing and making his way to the bed, “You don’t need my help?” He settled in the spot next to you, crowding you on the mattress while you drove your fingers in and out of your entrance, his lips brushing your temple when he spoke. “You don’t need my fingers? Hm? Don’t want my cock?”

Your façade faltered, but you managed to keep yourself distracted from his words with the way your fingertips grazed your most delicate spot. “I can—do it,” you reassured him, mocking tone coming across more stilted than you had intended as you wrestled with your own body.

“No you can’t, baby.” He smiled, hand coming to sit on top of your own, moving with you, “And if you do, you’ll be in so much more trouble than you already are.”

Something about his voice, the deep vibrations you felt in his chest combined with the soft touch of his big hand over yours; the mock frustration you had with him, and the real frustration you had with yourself as you tried desperately to cum; the way his eyes pierced through your own, it all worked together to spur you on. With the encroaching weightlessness you felt in your limbs, and his breath against your cheek, you finally reached the edge.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, grinning wide as you pumped your fingers in and out for the last time, letting the heel of your palm push against your clit. You were breathless, tired, but not as satisfied as you knew he would’ve made you.

You turned to him, and he already had his gaze fixed on you.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumbled, “Felt good.”

“Just good?” Damien stared you down, removing his hand from yours. “We both know that good isn’t good enough for you.”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to do it.”

“Yeah. I am.” He stood again. Before you could ask where he was going or what he was planning, he wrapped his hands around your ankles and pulled you sideways over the mattress until your legs hung over the side of the bed. He flipped you onto your stomach, raising the hem of the shirt you still wore to expose your slick-coated cunt.

“You’re so impatient, baby. If you wanted to cum, you could’ve just asked.” You could feel the fan of his breath, cold against your wet cunt, as he kneeled behind you, face centimeters from your entrance. “But since you put on such a nice show, I think I’ll do you one better.” He admired the sight before him, one finger trailing over your slit to collect your wet. He pulled back and sucked the gathered moisture from his hand.

“Oh, I bet,” you goaded him, even despite the position you were in and the punishment you knew you deserved. “This isn’t much of a punishment, daddy.” You giggled into the blankets, bunching the comforter against your face to cushion you and hold the noises you made.

“We’ll see.” He straightened out slightly and delivered a hard smack to your ass. You yelped, moaning at the sting and suddenly ready to obey his every word. “Count them.”

“Was that—does that count as one?” You questioned, sticking your ass out for him and waiting for his hand to come down again.

“Princess, you really think that all you’re getting is a spanking?” Damien soothed the skin he had just slapped, rubbing his palm in circles over your ass. “Didn’t say I wanted you to count the spanks, baby.”

“So wh—Oh, my god—” You couldn’t form the question, and as it turned out, you didn’t have to ask at all—he was one step ahead of you. His fingers plunged deep into your entrance and immediately sought out the spot you’d had so much trouble finding just minutes ago.

“You’re gonna count how many times I make you cum." He bit into the flesh of your ass before trailing his tongue down and over the skin of your thigh, eager to sample every inch of you, undeniably turned on after watching you fight so hard to make yourself cum. “And you’re going to tell me how good daddy makes you feel. And you’re going to say thank you every time.” You let out a low moan of his name, and his hand connected in a sharp smack with your ass once more. “What'd you say?”

“Yes, daddy,” Your words were muffled by the blankets you bunched in your fists, but that did nothing to hide the excitement in your voice.

“There you go,” he removed his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, “Knew my good girl was still in there somewhere.” He spread you open, spitting, and watching the strand of saliva drip down from your asshole and over your cunt. He leaned forward, giving in to temptation and tasting you.

“I am good! I can be good…” You whined, squirming at the feel of his stubble against your skin as he ate you like a man starved.

“Prove it,” strands of spit connected his mouth to your cunt as he spoke. He licked another stripe over you, biting your thigh, “Prove it, baby.” He returned to your core, licking into you and occasionally brushing over your clit. He bit into the skin of your other thigh before he again took to fucking you with his tongue.

You moaned at the feel of his teeth on your skin, and moaned louder when his tongue pushed into you. You reached behind your body, trying to find the leverage to push him further against you, but he grabbed your hand before you could lace your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think so,” he pushed your hand away and smiled at your frustrated moan. “I kept my hands to myself when you were playing, didn’t I?” You let out a quiet sound and he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp. “Words.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yes what?” He rolled your clit in between his fingers, torturously slow and forcing you to buck your hips into nothing, so desperate for more.

“You kept your hands to yourself.”

“So…?”

“So, I need to keep my hands to myself.” You whimpered when he removed his grasp on your clit, opting now to massage it with two fingers.

“Good, baby,” he praised, keeping his fingers steady on your clit. He spit onto your cunt again. “Remember that. Don’t make me tie you down.”

You whimpered at his words, hoping that he’d follow through on that threat—if not now, later.

“Oh, you like that?” He pushed three fingers into you, relishing how you arched your back and moaned his title. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you act like a slut.” He moved his hands in sync, fingers punching into you, his opposite hand kneading your clit. “Are you a slut, baby?”

You nodded vehemently, gripping the comforter, so close to the edge you could taste it. “Yes—yes, daddy!”

“Yeah?” He curled his fingers, letting them brush repeatedly over your g-spot until he saw your legs tremble. “You like being a slut?”

“O—nly for you,” you had to think hard to form any words, your brain clouded with pleasure, “Only for daddy.” You tried, and failed, to support yourself on your hands, then your forearms; the sensation became too much, and your arms gave out under you, leaving you to tilt your head back so that he could hear your cries without the comforter muting them.

“I know. I know, baby. Only for daddy.” He cooed, hands working in tandem to help you reach your high. “Let me see how pretty my princess looks when she cums for me. Show me, baby, show me what a good little slut you are.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; you felt your abs tighten, panting as your walls clenched around his thick fingers, and you let your head fall flat onto the mattress. Your thighs twitched, and there were stars behind your eyes when Damien curled his fingers inside you one last time, stroking the delicate spot within you in time with the patterns he rubbed over your clit.

You felt heavenly, satisfied now more than you had been after your own attempt; you were fully capable of making yourself feel good, but he was capable of making you feel absolutely wonderful, and following the orgasm you’d forced from yourself, the one he gave you was so much better—positively perfect.

Damien stood behind you, leaning over you to move the hair that had fallen across your face during your squirmier moments, and to kiss your head. You could feel his stiff length pressing against you, and despite the exhaustion you already felt in your bones, your eagerness far outweighed any fatigue you had.

“Remember to count, princess.” He whispered in your ear between soft kisses pressed to your sweaty skin.

“One,” you mumbled, “That was one. Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He licked a stripe up your neck, and you mewled for him. He flipped you onto your back, and you looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re gonna keep being good for me, right?” He trailed his fingers down your thighs, moving back up to ghost over your sensitive cunt. You nodded, and he smiled, sharp teeth threatening to poke over his bottom lip.

“Gonna be so good,” You stretched your arms out, and he pulled you up to him with his hands on your biceps. You let him take your shirt off, collapsing back onto the bed with your hands above your head and your wrists crossed, giddy. He remained fully clothed, the silver chain tucked under his shirt only given away by the shine that circled the back of his neck. You couldn’t help but stare.

How could a man be just as sexy fully clothed as he was when he was undressed? You didn’t know how he managed, but you ogled him all the same, even in your post-orgasm haze.

His hands continued to trail your now completely naked body; thumbs brushing over your nipples while his hands groped at your breasts leisurely, dipping down to squeeze your hips and waist before returning to your heat to tease you where you were already overstimulated. He leaned over you, taking one nipple in his mouth and alternating between rolling it between his teeth and sucking on the pebbled skin. You grabbed at the blankets, anchoring yourself under him.

He undid his zipper, removing his now painfully hard cock from his jeans and letting it rest over your cunt. You gasped, moaning at the weight and feel of him. You wanted so desperately to touch him, and as if he read your mind, he took your hand and guided it over his length, effectively ending the "hands to yourself" rule he had been enforcing.

“You’re being so good, princess,” he let go of your hand and you hesitated, waiting for further instruction. “Go ahead. You’re allowed.”

You hummed, fingers sliding over the soft skin of his shaft. You teased his tip with your thumb, and he bit back a quiet hiss.

“This is what patient girls get, see?” He stroked your thigh while you ran your hand up his length, “This is what good girls get when they wait.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You were muttering, craning your neck to see how your hand looked wrapped around him. You clenched around nothing.

He gently removed your hand, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and rocking into you slowly. You felt the familiar, welcome pressure in your lower half; the way your body made space for him, let him stretch you out until you were a perfect fit.

“God, you take me so well,” He groaned, pushing more of himself into you and reveling in the way your warmth sheathed him. “So pretty, letting me get you ready with my fingers. This is what you wanted, hm? Needed attention?”

“Yes, daddy,” you couldn’t hide the slack-jawed look of scatterbrained bliss on your face even if you wanted to. “Needed you to make me feel good.”

“Cause you can’t do it yourself, isn’t that right?” He bottomed out with a low moan. His hands rested on your hips, forcing his cock to stay buried inside of you.

“Only daddy,” you arched your back, legs coming to wrap around his hips and let him sit even further within you, “Only daddy can make me feel good.”

“That’s fucking right." He smiled, grip on your hips tightening as he pulled out and drove back into you, pistoning his hips at a pace that he had clearly set in his mind prior to even getting his cock out. His bottom lip sat trapped between his teeth.

Damien alternated between the perfect views he had; your face, contorting in pleasure, pleas falling from your lips, begging him to go faster, harder, do anything to you, whatever he wanted, as your eyes rolled back; and your cunt, wrapped tight around him, taking what he gave you, your thighs soaked with your slick.

You were the only person he ever wanted to look at.

“Oh—fuck, that’s s-so deep,” Your head fell back, pushing against the mattress, as the feeling of his cock brushing your cervix made your lip tremble. “Daddy, just like that.”

He watched your hands roam over your abdomen, situating atop your lower stomach and pressing against the bulge of his cock inside you. He growled, reaching to grab your legs and pull them up so that your feet were resting on his shoulders. Your lower half lifted slightly off the bed, big hands moving under the curve of your ass to keep you there.

“Look at you, baby,” he admired the way you let him throw you around, “Getting fucked out like the pretty slut you are.” He could feel your walls fluttering around him.

“I’m goi—I’m so fucking—” You searched for the words, not caring when you couldn’t find them; you were certain he could take the hint from your frenzied moans and repeated cries.

“Are you gonna give me another one, princess? You gonna let daddy feel you cum?” His brow was furrowed, and he looked almost empathetic through his colder, dominant bearing. He leaned forward, pushing your legs towards your chest with your ass still in the air, and the shift in angle made you scream, forgetting every other word you’d ever known and replacing them with his name. You clawed at his back, nails slipping over the fabric of his shirt, and he laughed through groans while he ground his hips against you.

And then you were cumming again, his name and his title falling repeatedly from your lips, a messy amalgamation of curses and whimpers that you cried over, and over, and over again. He let your legs fall to the side, and you wrapped them around his hips again. He stayed inside you, cock still hard, twitching with the pulse of your cunt as you faced the aftershock of your orgasm. He thrust into you shallowly, letting you reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. He bent over you, holding your chin between his fingers.

“What number was that?”

“T-two,” you felt loopy, and you giggled against his mouth when he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss he gave you felt chaste, almost shy, in comparison to the way he fucked you, but you liked it; it encapsulated perfectly what it was like to be his—safe and taken care of—and you loved it. You loved him. “Thank you.”

“Good job.” He whispered against your lips before returning to the kiss. “Knew you could do it. Knew you’d be good for me—just needed a little reminder, right? Needed me to put you in your place.”

You nodded, officially lost to the submissive fog of your mind, focused only on being obedient for him. “Need daddy.”

“You have me, baby. I’m all yours.” He straightened, taking off his shirt and tossing it haphazardly somewhere on the floor. His jeans and boxers followed, joining the heap of discarded clothing in the corner.

You stayed in the spot where he left you, sticky between your legs and entranced by every movement Damien made.

He refocused his attention on you, his smile almost serene despite the fact that you both knew he wasn’t done yet. He once again found himself next to you on the bed, situating himself facing you and admiring the fucked-out look on your face. You reached out for him lazily, and he grabbed your wrists, holding your hands and kissing over your knuckles just as he had earlier.

“C’mere,” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he rolled over with you in his arms, prompting you to straddle him. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Please,” You squeaked, hands trailing down the expanse of his chest and over his stomach, grazing his soft skin with a hungry urgency. “I want more.” You looped a finger through the chain on his neck before letting it unravel and going back to your exploration of his chest. "Make me take it until I can't anymore, daddy, please."

“Slut.” Damien shook his head, laughing to himself about the bright-eyed way you took your punishment. He pulled you forward onto him, and you sighed dreamily; the warmth of his body pressed against yours like pieces of a puzzle, flesh to flesh.

He snaked his arm over your thigh and under your body, pumping himself in his hand. His other hand pushed up against your ass, encouraging you to raise yourself up to give him the room to push into you. You obliged, and though he’d already fucked you, made you cum twice, and overstimulated all of your senses, the first shove of his hips still made you gasp, astonished by the stretch and feel of having all of him inside of you.

“Fuck,” He leaned back, hands rubbing over the flesh of your hips in a show of affection and power, keeping you steady as he bottomed out. “Greedy fucking pussy.”

You had your hands on his shoulders, muscles sensitive from your prior orgasms and unable to sit upright. But you were both content this way, with your tits accessible for him to toy with while he used you. He sucked on the plush flesh, watching as purple bruises formed and nipping at them before turning his head to make another.

The familiar tug of some hidden chord inside you grew steadily. Damien raised his hips off the bed, simultaneously pushing you down onto him by your hips, resulting in his cock driving into you as far as he could possibly go at this angle. You gave up on trying to support yourself, collapsing onto his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong princess?” He was taunting you, “Too much? Are you too sensitive to take what daddy gives you?” He wrapped both arms around your body, keeping you pressed against him as he thrust into you, hard and fast.

“N—o,” you moaned, unable to hide the satisfaction you got from his playful ridicule, “Feels—shit, I want—please, please, it’s so nice, daddy, feels fucking amazing.”

“Yeah?” He moved one hand up to tug on your hair, easing you from your hideaway in the crook of his neck and forcing you to look down at him, “Tell me, baby, tell me how it feels when daddy fucks you.”

He kept his hand in your hair, the pull forcing your back to arch and letting him hit the best spots inside you. You weren't shy about the pleasure he was granting you.

“Amazing!” You clawed at his shoulders, shallow red marks that would fade within the hour painting the skin on his upper arm and over his chest. “Feels amazing!”

“What feels amazing?” He was smiling, taking great pride in hearing all the ways you responded to his movements and the way your mouth twisted to get the words out.

“Daddy—daddy feels so perfect inside me!” You practically sobbed it, overcome with the bliss of being full of him.

“That’s right. Tell daddy you love him.” He had to fight to hide the pleading cadence in his voice; somehow the strongest desire he had, even balls deep inside you, was hearing those three words fall from your lips.

“I love you,” You gasped, nails carving crescent shapes into his skin, “I fucking love you.”

He went slack jawed, the glee behind your words pairing perfectly with the way your cunt squeezed him. “I love you, princess,” He moaned it, “I love you so much.”

“Want—want you inside me all the time like this. Wanna feel you all the time, daddy.” Your legs hurt and your skin felt raw and tender, but, god, if you didn’t love moments like this.

At that, Damien let out a low growl, removing his grip on your hair and letting you rest your head on his shoulder once more. “God, you’re fucking needy,” he was fucking into you wildly, and the sound of skin on skin and the slick leaking from you created a chorus you could listen to for hours on end. “You want this cock all the time? Is that what you want?”

You nodded against him. “Please, daddy.”

“You just want to be all sore and sensitive for me? Let me fuck you all the time?”

“Yes! Ye—es!” You were drooling, the puddle of your spit mixing with the tears of elation that slipped from your eyes. Your clit dragged over him perfectly in this position, sending jolts through your already overstimulated body. You could feel yourself squeezing around his cock with every harsh ram of his hips.

“There you go, princess,” he felt it too, his excitement building alongside yours . “Give it to me, baby. C’mon and cum for me again.” He slowed his thrusts, letting you take what you needed; one of his hands found its way between your bodies and offered your sore clit a boost of stimulation.

That was what sent you over the edge—that, and hearing the way he praised you, the repetition of his moans and the way he called you so pretty, so good for him, an eager little slut who follows directions so well. You thought you might black out, so exhausted and spent, but still so desperate for him as you clung to his body through your orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” You slurred your words together, high off the pleasure that fanned out from your core and across your entirety.

"Good, princess, that's right. Such good manners." Damien stroked your hair. "Gonna fucking cum for you, baby. Give you a reward for being so good for me, fill you up nice and deep." His long, unhurried thrusts led him to his own high, which he greeted with a groan and a drawn-out sigh of your name. You moaned, feeling the warmth spread over you, and you lifted your head to connect your lips to his.

He took his time, licking into your mouth and savoring the way you whimpered into him; it was messy and sleepy, and paired well with the tacky feeling between your thighs as his cum dripped from you, mixed with your own.

Damien flipped you over, supporting himself on his forearms as he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, miles away, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and tears and spit, and he thought you were the most beautiful thing in that moment, and in every other.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you whined at the loss.

“Shh, princess, I know. It’s ok.” He ran his hands over your torso when he removed himself from you. “Hi, baby.” He ran his knuckles soothingly over your cheek, and you closed your eyes, humming. “What number was that?”

“Three.”

“Think you can give me one more?”

Your eyes went wide, and you bit your lip, unable to hide the dopey smile you got upon hearing his question. “Make me.”

“Fucking bratty—even after all this?” He laughed, kissing your nose before moving down your body and putting your legs over his shoulders. “You tell me if it’s too much now, alright?”

“I know, daddy.” Your words were defiant despite how limp and weary you felt. You stretched your arm down to stroke his cheek with the tips of your fingers.

“Think I would’ve fucked the attitude out of you by now.” He grinned, and you bit your tongue, giggling.

You watched him lower his face to your core, his breath catching on the sticky mixture that seeped from your hole and making you shiver. Damien savored the image before swiping his tongue through your folds, collecting the blend of your cum and groaning at the taste. You let your hands wander, one fondling your own chest, the other buried in his hair. Damien's hands roamed up and down your legs, brushing over your stomach and hips in an effort to ground you, to make sure you were comfortable and knew you were safe despite your current state of fragility.

Every movement of his tongue made you flinch, overly sensitive but loving every second you got to watch him between the V of your thighs. The light swipes of his tongue made the hair across your body stand up on goose flesh.

“Oh—” You let out a small gasp when he nudged your clit with his nose, tongue exploring your entrance. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightened, and he moaned against you; the vibrations made you tremble, and with little warning you were cumming again, whispering his name and words of praise and appreciation.

Damien rubbed your thigh, moving to lie down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. One of his hands pressed against your back, feeling your ribcage expand as you caught your breath.

“That was four.” You spoke after a few moments of silence, and he squeezed you against his chest. "Thank you, daddy."

“Didn’t even have to ask you that time.” He brushed the hair from your face and peppered kisses over your forehead.

“I know,” you leaned back slightly to smile up at him, proud of yourself, “I’m just that good.”

“So good. You’re so good for me.” He emphasized every word with a soft peck on your lips, and you laughed. "Always so good. So beautiful, so sweet, baby, and you’re all mine." His praise helped you come back down to earth, the haziness in your head caused by repeated stimulation easing up and being replaced by pure contentedness and tired eyes.

You realized the scratches you left on his chest were deeper than you’d intended for them to be, still stark against his pale skin, and you trailed your fingers over them.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to mark you up like that.” You lay your head against a pillow, intertwining your legs with Damien’s and looking up at him. You kept your hands curled over his chest, basking in the security you felt in the heat of his body.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he ran his thumb over your lips, and you kissed it, “You should see the other guy.”

“Bet the other guy is really hot…” You countered. “Probably really obedient, too.”

“Really hot,” he laughed, “But between you and me…kind of a brat.”

“Am not!” You pushed against his chest, and he caught your wrists, leaning forward to engulf you again and kiss your face.

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, “How’d we end up in bed like this?”

“No idea. I thought you knew…” You giggled at your own faux perplexity. Damien rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Do you want ice, baby? Or heat?” He nudged your nose with his. "I can run you a bath—or do you want me to get you the heating pad?"

“Ice.” You grabbed his arm when he moved to stand, “Later, though. Now I just want you. Please.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?” He returned to your side, letting your hands wander over him.

“You know, after four orgasms, you might think that,” Your hand came to rest on his stomach, tracing shapes over him, “But you’re just so enticing.” You toyed with his silver necklace. “Tell me, baby: was this worth the time you spent apart from your beloved game?” You teased, and he pulled you on top of him again, letting you sink lazily against him.

“Funny,” he smiled, one arm under his head to allow himself the full view of you on top of him. He ran his hand through your hair, lazy kisses landing on the top of your head, “Don’t tempt me to make it five.”

#damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas fic #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh games #smosh mouth #smosh pit #smosh squad #smoshblr

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raythekiller · 10 months

Note

hi there!! omg i just wanna say i love your writing and your art so so so much!! thank you for keeping the fandom well-fed and alive o7! if you don’t mind me asking, what are your thoughts on the slendermansion? like the layout, how it operates, and what creeps live there :D tysm!!! - tulip anon (if it’s not already taken lol)

🗒 ❛ Slendermansion Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

#Notes: I have so many thoughts about this omg

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

First off, I think it's a manor instead of a mansion. Mansions are simply big houses located normally on neighbourhoods while manors are often times isolated, are bigger and have some land around them with maybe some other buildings in the property. There are three main floors, along with a basement and an attic. The first floor has a big ass entrance, a living room, kitchen, dinning room, nurse's office and storage, while the second one is almost exclusively for bedrooms, most of which have suites (but there is a community bathroom as well on all three main floors). The third floor has the proxy's bedrooms, Slenderman's room and a library. Every bedroom comes with a bed and a closet, but everything else the creeps have to either make or acquire in some way by themselves (Sally is an exception). Everyone works for and obeys Slenderman and in return receive clothes, food and a place to live. The only creep that doesn't live there is Jane. Here's some bedroom headcanons:

JEFF: A mess, lives in the second floor. The walls were shitly painted black by him and you can see several missing spots. There are some band and horror movie posters on the walls and you can barely see the floor because of the amount of clothes and trash scattered around. His blinds are always closed and they are that thick type that doesn't let any sunlight get through. Deadass lives like a vampire.

BEN: Another mess, also in the second floor. There are snacks and food wrappings all around the floor and several videogames posters on the wall, along with a pro gamer computer set complete with a LED keyboard, mouse and headset, also a big ass television. His walls are a yellowish green, also with some missing spots.

TOBY: Lives in the third floor, his walls are beige and his bed covers are a brownish orange flannel. Windows always open to let some fresh air in. It's filled with several trinkets he stole from his victims and actually looks kind of aesthetic pleasing if you ignore how unorganized it is, kinda like those indie bedrooms you see on Pinterest. Has a few house plants scattered around, like cactus and succulents, nothing too difficult to take care of (he doesn't have much of a green thumb).

EYELESS JACK: Lives in the basement, since he uses the freezers in there to store his food. Not very decorated, since he spends most of his time in the nurse's office, save from the blood (if you can call that decoration).

LAUGHING JACK: Lives in the attic. Has several kids toys he steals from his victims, all of which he DIY'd to be black and white like him. His old music box is on a prestigious self on top of his bed.

MASKY: Pretty organized, lives on the third floor. Mostly consists of brownish colors and tones. Has one of those clothes racks where he keeps his flannels and some old bands posters on the walls. Nothing too fancy. Makes his bed every morning.

HOODIE: Lives in the third floor. Kinda messy, but in a fancy way. Has several notebook pages torn off with song lyrics he writes sitting around, along with manuscript papers. His guitar is normally resting by his bed and is decorated with stickers. Masky makes fun of him for it, but he has fairy lights.

BLOODY PAINTER: Lives in the second floor, but has an exclusive art studio in the property outside of the manor that looks like a little shack. His walls are white, but covered in paint splashes, so they're very colorful, same thing with the floor. Has many canvases laying around, filled and empty, as well as acrylic paints and papers with random sketches and thumbnails.

X-VIRUS: Lives in the third floor. His walls are black and with several shelves, all with test tubes, flasks and beakers filled with strange and glowing chemicals inside of them. Has LED lights on the corners of the ceiling, always shining green. Has every lab equipment you could think of, from microscopes to bunsen burners and magnetic stirrers.

CLOCKWORK: Lives in the second floor. The most aesthetically pleasing room. Has tarot tapestry hanging from the walls and ceiling as well as those fake vines. Her walls are filled head to toe with drawings she makes herself, also those aesthetic posters with plants and butterflies and such. Speaking of, she has fake paper butterflies hanging on the ceiling. Uses monster cans as flower pots. Has a ukulele sitting in the corner that she gave up on learning how to play.

KATE THE CHASER: Left her room the way she found it, all white walls and a single closet and a bed with no covers. Barely ever steps inside of it. It's located on the third floor.

NINA THE KILLER: Lives in the second floor. Her room genuinely looks like some kind of early 2000's emo parade. Walls covered entirely in band posters (especially the main singers) and an unholy amount of plushies, mostly sanrio ones. Has a shelf only for her Monster High dolls.

SALLY: Second floor. Any little girl's dream bedroom. Fairy lights, pink walls, an insane amount of plushies and dolls as well as a dollhouse. Has some of her drawings pinned on the walls.

bonus!

LANE: Third floor. Grey walls with some band and horror movies/series posters, especially Supernatural, along with some random sketches pinned. A lot of plants sitting around on the shelves, floor and windowsill. Windows always open. Their bed has black covers and a hand-saw fox plushie laying by the pillow.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #ray.writes #ticci toby #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ben drowned #masky #laughing jack #hoodie #bloody painter #kate the chaser #x virus #oc.lane hellshire #nina the killer #clockwork #creepypasta sally #tulip anon

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eagerbby · 2 years

Text

can i call you - e.m

paring| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| The year is 1999 and Eddie Munson might, quite possibly, be absolutely head over heels with a girl he met on the internet. What could go wrong?

an| this is set in the late 90s, Eddie is 21 in this as is reader. basically just a little idea i had floating around in my head. could definitely be a series if anyone wants it to be one, let me know!

warnings- 2k, not much to warn about for part one

Part 2

“That was Korn with Blind, here on 99.3 Metal Shop. If you’re just tuning in; we’re glad to have ya. Going back almost a decade, here's Metallica with Master of Puppets.”

“Fucking Metal.” Eddie grinned, tuning the volume knob on his radio up, the first chords rumbling through the white walls of his room. He pops the tab of his beer as he bangs his head along with the music. It was another lonely night, stuck in the small cage of his room. He’d tried to get Gareth and Jeff to hang, maybe go down to the quarry and get high, but alas both boys had plans that didn’t include hanging out with their older buddy.

So here he was, spinning in his desk chair, a chat forum open on his black spray painted monitor. The CPU whirled loudly from under the desk but Eddie could barely hear it with the heavy guitar shredding coming through his radio. He was about three beers in and a half a joint down, the edges of his vision becoming hazy in his intoxication.

Eddie’s ringed pointy finger rolled over the trackball on his stained mouse, flicking the screen up and down and up and down. Again and again until Eddie sighed and threw his head back. He shouldn’t be waiting for you. It was a Friday night, you probably had better things to do instead of sitting at your computer chatting with some strange guy on the internet. Although, Eddie hopes you don’t think about him like that. The two of you have been talking quite regularly for the past three months. It had started randomly, you personally asked him on a horror movie forum for some movie suggestions so he gave you his favorites -The Shining, Maximum Overdrive, My Bloody Valentine- and you had watched them all, giving him such detailed critiques he was kinda surprised you’d taken his suggestions. A week later you sent him your AOL name and told him to add you so you could chat more. He jumped at the opportunity, so intrigued by you in such a short time.

It was a little awkward at first, with Eddie trying to play it cool because you were so different from the girls he had gone to school with and you were a little reserved, not too sure how much you wanted to share with a stranger online. But the relationship had blossomed, grown into a friendship without either of you really trying. You loved his corny jokes and he could listen to you for hours talking about your cat and your poetry. You’d even let him read a little bit of it, blessing him with the most beautiful prose Eddie had ever read before. He wasn’t much of a poetry guy, but you were turning him into one.

Eddie leans forward after a brief war in his head, debating if he should just bite the bullet and shoot you a message first. Maybe you didn’t see he was online yet? Quickly he pulls up your AOL log and types.

HellfireMaster- What’s your favorite scary movie?”

He hit the enter key and tapped his foot anxiously. A minute or two passed with no response. Eddie groaned deeply, rubbing his hand over his face. This was stupid.

Eddie pushed back from his desk, the wood banging off the wall with the force of it, and strolled over to his bed, flopping down on the disheveled sheets. He laid there with his hands folded on his chest, staring at the slow turn of his ceiling fan. He can’t remember when his crush on you started, but it was eating him up on the inside. He doesn’t even know what you look like for Christ-sake and yet you have him wrapped around your finger.

There’s ping from Eddie’s computer and he shoots up to his elbows at the sound, big doe eyes locked on the computer screen with excitement. He wastes no time jumping from his bed, tripping over dirty jeans and piles of crumpled paper from his last lyric writing session, over to his desk chair that groaned under his weight as he plopped down in it. Eddie’s grin rips at the corners of his mouth, wide and excited, little dimples forming by the edges.

PrettyiNProsed- I don’t know.

HellfireMaster- You have to have a favorite.”

Eddie bit his lip as he waited, knee jiggling with anticipation.

PrettyiNProsed- Is this where you tell me you’re watching me?

Eddie chuckles at that, the tapping sound of the keyboard mingling with the bass from some song he wasn’t even listening to. Scream was your new favorite movie. It had taken some convincing on Eddie’s part seeing as you had heard how horrible it was from some friends, but after watching it -while Eddie watched it at the same time and you live reviewed it- you couldn’t believe you had waited so long.

HellfireMaster- I could be. You just never know…

PrettyiNProsed- I bet that would sound more convincing over the phone, huh?

HellfireMaster- Maybe, but someone doesn’t want to do that yet.

It’s true, Eddie had been slowly slipping talking on the phone more and more into your conversations. He couldn’t help it, curiosity was killing him. The thought of finally hearing your voice was starting to consume him. It lingered in the back of his mind as he worked, as he held his campaigns, at band practice, even hanging out with his small group of friends. It had hurt his feelings when you’d all but blown him off the first time, quickly saying goodbye and logging off, but Eddie didn’t let that deter him. When he wanted something he’d work his ass off to get it.

PrettyiNProsed- Hey! I never said I didn’t want to.

HellfireMaster- You never said you did though..

PrettyiNProsed- Don’t get all grumpy on me now, Eddie.

You didn’t even have to see him to know he was pouting about it and Eddie loved that about you. That you could read him so well like you understood just who he was. It was a rare thing for him to feel so seen and he thinks maybe it’s because, with you, he isn’t Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. He was just Eddie, he didn’t feel like he had to play a part.

Focusing back to the computer, he cracked his knuckles and began typing back.

HellfireMaster- How was your day, sweetheart?

PrettyiNProsed- It was okay, getting better now as long as you don’t go all dark and brooding on me.

PrettyiNProsed- Think you can handle that, sunshine?

Eddie felt like a fucking idiot, smiling at his computer with his cheeks flushed red and his lip sore from his canine repeatedly sinking into it. You always did this -using these cute nicknames that he’d probably scoff at if they weren’t coming from you. He really did have it bad and for a mysterious face behind a screen at that.

HellfireMaster- Oh, I can handle it.

PrettyiNProsed- Good. I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you.

God if that didn’t send his stomach swirling with butterflies.

HellfireMaster- You have?

PrettyiNProsed- Yes! Guess why!

HellfireMaster- No, just tell me.

PrettyiNProsed- Ugh, you’re no fun!

HellfireMaster- Just tell me, princess! I don’t like waiting.

PrettyiNProsed- Sucks for you then!

Suddenly that green dot next to your name was red, signaling that you’d gone offline. Eddie’s eyes bugged, his teeth clenching tight together as his nostrils flared. You’d logged off. He couldn’t believe it. You’d never done that before and this wasn’t the first time the two of you had joked around like that. You always took his jokes and dry humor in stride. Had he upset you? Eddie doesn’t think he could live with himself if he had. You were the only thing making him get up in the mornings, you know other than his job down at the tire shop, if he lost the brilliant light you had brought into his small little world he’s sure his life would metamorphose into a miserable stream of wake work sleep until he inevitably died alone.

He might be a tad bit dramatic, but still, he needed you.

Another ping has his eyes darting to the screen.

PrettyiNProsed- Are you ready to stop being a brat, big boy?

Eddie blanches at your words, his cock twitching to life to his dismay. Big boy. Fuck. Why did that stir something inside him? His calloused fingers hovered over the keyboard until he slowly started typing.

HellfireMaster- I’ll do anything for you to just tell me.

PrettyiNProsed- Ohhhh, anything you say?

You were flirting with him. Eddie pressed his palms against the stubbled skin of his cheek, more in awe than shock, because you’ve never openly flirted with him before. You were sweet and funny and wickedly smart, but you always seemed to just skirt right past his flirty words, usually playing them off in a sweet dismissal. But tonight was different, you were starting it. Eddie adjusts his semi hard cock, grimacing at how dirty he feels popping a semi at two simple words.

HellfireMaster- Whatever the princess deems suitable.

PrettyiNProsed- Hmm, so many options, but I think I want you to beg for it.

Fuck, Eddie thinks with a helpless moan. You must be in a mood tonight and Eddie thinks it might just kill him. Eddie was not a beggar, but he’d fall to his knees and grovel if you as much as asked him to. Which you kinda were right now.

HellfireMaster- Please. Oh please my dear, sweet, princess, please take mercy on my pitiful soul and tell me why oh why you’ve been waiting to talk to a simple peasant like myself.

PrettyiNProsed- You really poured it on thick there, Eddie.

PrettyiNProsed- But I’ll take pity and tell you because I liked it, also I just have to tell you what I got!

PrettyiNProsed- I went to the mall last night and bought two things.

Eddie chuckled at this, running his free hand through his bangs as he finger typed.

HellfireMaster- Two things!! Wow, I think you have a problem there sweetheart. Impulsive spending.

PrettyiNProsed- Hardy-har. Would you like to know what I bought, asshole?

HellfireMaster- Of course I would, big spender.

PrettyiNProsed- Well first I went to this really awesome record shop and bought that Dio album you suggested.

HellfireMaster- Shit, you got Holy Diver? What’s your favorite song?

PrettyiNProsed- Well, I’ve only gotten halfway through it, but I really liked caught in the middle!

HellfireMaster- That’s my girl!

Eddie doesn’t think as he types it, as he hits send, in fact it only hits him what he’s said when you don’t respond back for a minute. Shit. Maybe that was a little forward. You aren’t his girl, you were his friend, maybe even best friend at this point but definitely not his girl. Not yet at least.. He’s starting to type an apology when your next message comes in.

PrettyiNProsed- You wanna know what that other thing was, Eddie?

HellfireMaster- Yes

PrettyiNProsed- I bought a receiver for my room.

HellfireMaster- A receiver?

PrettyiNProsed- Jeezz, Eddie. I bought a phone for my room!

Eddie froze midway to lighting his cigarette, the unlit stick falling from his lips to his lap as he gaped.

PrettyiNProsed- I didn’t want to talk to you in the living room, my parents probably wouldn't be too happy if they knew I was spending my time talking to a stranger on the internet instead of focusing on my college courses.

HellfireMaster- Can I call you?

PrettyiNProsed- Not tonight, I’m exhausted, in fact my bed is calling my name. But I’m free tomorrow at 6 if you wanna…

PrettyiNProsed- You still wanna right?

PrettyiNProsed- Eddieeee??? You still there??

Eddie’s elated, fists punching into the air as he spins in his chair. Tomorrow night. He’ll finally be able to hear your voice. His begging had really paid off this time, which was such a sudden change he couldn’t quite believe it. But that didn’t matter. Nothing else did right now. Tomorrow he’d finally hear you say his name, hear your laugh, be able to really talk to you. He couldn’t wait.

HellfireMaster- 6pm. I’ll be waiting!

PrettyiNProsed- I’ll send the number tomorrow, gonna make you wait till then.

HellfireMaster- Tease

PrettyiNProsed- Hm, I guess I am.

PrettyiNProsed- Goodnight Eddie, don’t go getting into trouble before I can hear your voice.

HellfireMaster- Me? Trouble? Not ever, sweetheart.

PrettyiNProsed- Yeah, I’m not convinced.

HellfireMaster- Sleep tight, princess.

Eddie logged out, a blinding smile on his face, his stomach fluttering with angry little tornados. He shut his computer down, turned off the radio, and crawled into his bed. A click of the string on his bedside lamp and he’s engulfed in darkness, the only light a white moon beam peeking through his blinds, and Eddie lays on his back with his hands folded over his blanket covered chest still smiling like a love sick fool because tomorrow night he’ll be in this same spot but with the phone pressed to his head, you voice filtering through his ear like a melody.

Eddie falls into a dreamy sleep with the thought of you and your voice calling his name. Finally.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader

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wandashousewife · 3 months

Text

Technology Sucks (Oneshot)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — Technology + Wanda = WIII

Warnings — Angry Wanda, Fluff??

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Wanda's tiny workspace felt suffocating, the walls closing in around her as she wrestled with the stubborn machine. The dim glow of the monitor cast eerie shadows across her determined face, highlighting the furrows etched deep into her brow from hours of concentration. Her fingers, once nimble and precise, now pounded the keyboard with a mixture of determination and desperation.

The relentless onslaught of error messages seemed almost personal, mocking her efforts with their indecipherable codes and cryptic warnings. Each one felt like a blow to her confidence, a reminder of her inability to tame the unruly beast that was her computer. With every failed attempt, frustration brewed like a storm within her, threatening to overflow and consume her in its rage.

Despite her best efforts to remain calm, Wanda's patience wore thin with each passing minute. Her muttered curses filled the air, a testament to her mounting aggravation and the sheer absurdity of her situation. The once-familiar hum of the machine now grated on her nerves, its stubborn refusal to cooperate driving her to the brink of madness.

In the midst of her struggle, Wanda found herself longing for a reprieve, a fleeting moment of respite from the relentless battle raging before her. But with each click of the mouse, each futile attempt to break through the wall of resistance, it became painfully clear that such relief was not forthcoming.

And so, with a heavy heart and a weary sigh, Wanda resolved to press on, determined to conquer the obstinate machine that dared to defy her. For in the face of adversity, she knew that true strength lay not in surrender, but in the unwavering resolve to persevere against all odds.

As you sat beside Wanda, trying to contain your amusement, her mounting exasperation provided an irresistible spectacle. The lines of frustration etched on her face painted a vivid picture of determination mingled with bewilderment. Each futile attempt seemed to fuel her agitation, her muttered curses adding a touch of colorful absurdity to the tense atmosphere.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a semblance of composure, the urge to laugh bubbled up within you like an irrepressible force of nature. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on you, as Wanda's valiant efforts to conquer the obstinate machine descended into a comical battle of wills.

With each error message, you couldn't help but marvel at Wanda's resilience, her unwavering commitment to overcoming the technological nemesis before her. Yet, even as you admired her determination, the temptation to tease her gently danced at the edge of your consciousness, begging to be unleashed in a playful exchange of banter.

As Wanda's frustration reached new heights, her muttered expletives took on a life of their own, weaving a tapestry of colorful language that bordered on the absurd. And though you knew you should offer words of encouragement, the mischievous glint in your eye betrayed your inner amusement, threatening to dissolve the solemnity of the moment into a chorus of laughter.

As you sat beside Wanda, the tension in the air palpable, you found yourself on the verge of bursting into laughter. Her furrowed brow and frantic keyboard strokes painted a picture of determination mixed with bewilderment, a scene too comical to ignore.

"You know, Wanda, I think the computer might be winning this round," you teased, unable to resist the urge to lighten the mood.

Wanda shot you a withering glare, her frustration evident in the way her fingers practically danced across the keyboard. "Very funny," she muttered through clenched teeth, her tone laced with a mixture of irritation and amusement.

"I'm just saying, it's putting up quite the fight," you continued, unable to stifle a chuckle as another error message flashed across the screen.

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I swear, this thing has a mind of its own," she grumbled, shooting another glare at the uncooperative machine.

"Maybe it's trying to tell you to take a break," you suggested, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Wanda rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement danced in them despite her frustration. "Or maybe it's just trying to drive me insane," she quipped, a hint of resignation coloring her voice.

"Wanda, you look like you're about to declare war on that computer," You remarked, unable to contain a smirk.

Wanda's fingers paused mid-air, her gaze shifting from the screen to you, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "Oh, it's definitely declared war on me," she retorted, her voice tinged with mock indignation.

You chuckled, sensing the tension in the air but unable to resist the playful banter. "Well, I think it's a draw so far. Neither side seems to be backing down."

Wanda shook her head, a mixture of frustration and amusement evident in her expression. "Trust me, I'm not backing down until this thing does what it's supposed to do."

A brief pause hung between them, punctuated only by the incessant hum of the computer's fan. Then, despite the mounting pressure, a shared moment of levity softened the edges of their frustration.

As the tension between them dissolved in a mixture of shared frustration and playful banter, Wanda and you found themselves drawn together by an unexpected warmth. In the soft glow of the computer screen, their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them like a gentle breeze.

"Maybe we should call it a night," You suggested, your voice soft with concern and a hint of something more.

Wanda nodded, a sense of relief washing over her as she realized she wasn't alone in this battle. "I think you might be right," she replied, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

With a sense of camaraderie born of shared struggle, they leaned in closer, the distance between them shrinking with each passing moment. And then, in a moment both tender and unexpected, their lips met in a gentle kiss, a silent promise of support and solidarity in the face of adversity.

As they pulled away, the warmth of the moment lingered, wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. In that fleeting instant, amidst the chaos of malfunctioning technology and mounting frustration, they found solace in each other's presence, a beacon of hope guiding them through the storm.

And so, hand in hand, they left the dimly lit workspace behind, the echoes of laughter and the memory of their shared kiss lighting the way forward. For in each other, they had found not only strength and support, but also the promise of a brighter tomorrow, filled with endless possibilities and the sweetest of victories.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov x reader #my fic #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic

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theitgirlnetwork · 5 months

Text

Better

Chapter 10: I Want Her

Charlotte's Club Outfit:

Charlotte's Baseball Outfit (Except Pretend it's a Cubs Jersey:

A Pic of People Being Subjected to Charlotte and Lip PDA:

Note: Hiii! This took longer than I thought, apologies, but here it is! It's a little shorter but when I'm less busy we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you so much for all of the love I've been receiving on this, it means the world. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading :) <3 Also hopefully I got this damn tag list right this time. Let me know if you wanna be added!

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @heavenly1927 @th3h0nkz @yezzyyae

“So, you don’t think he’d like a flask with a drunk Mickey Mouse on it?”

Lip chuckles as he balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are busy jotting down a string algorithm for one of his bosses that he’d figured out and memorized earlier that morning. “I think Mickey would like us to buy him some shots while we’re out tonight. And I think Mickey deserves nothing but us showing the fuck up.”

“Aww,” Charlotte whines on the other line, Lip can basically hear the pout he knows is on her face. “I wanna give him something to open. Knowing you Gallaghers Ian’s probably just giving him dick for his birthday. He can’t unwrap that. Unless I pick up a bow for him to put on it.”

“Uh, really don’t want to think about you helpin’ my brother put a bow on his dick for his boyfriend, babe.” Lip sniffs, curling his lip up in distaste.

“Such a prude.” she chirps.

Lip ignores her, finishing up what he’s doing and ripping it from the notepad, going back to his computer to check his work. Suddenly, there’s a knock at his office door. It’s so weird for him to say, his office. Well, it's his and the other paid intern’s office to share. All of the poor fucks working for free share cubicles downstairs and the real employees get their own offices on Lip’s floor. But it’s mostly his, the other guy’s uncle is one of the big bosses and he rarely actually comes to work and normally when he does, it’s to play foosball with the other trust fund babies before going to happy hour. “Yeah?”

The door swings open and Eric comes strolling in, tossing a foam stress ball back and forth between his hands, the same douchebag look he always has is painted on his face. “Hey, Gallagher, you got time for a quick favor?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” Lip brings one hand to the phone, holding it sturdily against his ear. “Charlotte, I gotta go.” He tries to ignore the immediate irritation at the way Eric straightens when he hears Charlotte’s name.

“Ooh, Charlotte, huh? Someone important must be in the room.” she jokes.

“Oh, shit, the girlfriend. Put her on speaker.”

“I’m,” the blond tries and achieves, albeit poorly, to contain his temper. “I’m not putting her on speaker, man.”

“No, bubba, it’s okay, I’ll say hi.” her sweet voice intercedes. Lip curses under his breath before putting the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Phillip’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

Eric pulls up one of the extra seats of the room, leaning into the phone rested on Lip’s desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric, Gallagher’s boss.”

Lip scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head, looking away. He could tolerate shitheads like Eric all day, but with his girlfriend watching? It was a whole new ball game. “Aye-”

“For now,” Charlotte hums on the other side of the line. “But my baby is a genius, he’ll be running that place soon.”

Both Eric and Lip go silent for a moment, the latter trying to work away the smug smile that starts to spread on his face. Eric blinks before schooling an easy look on his own face and offering a laugh that’s a little too loud. “Yeah, I believe it.”

There’s an awkward silence where Lip just watches Eric rock between his two feet, staring at the phone on the desk, waiting for Charlotte to take back what she said, compliment him to even things out, or just politely hang up. He smirks, ducking his head at the fact that this dickhead just doesn’t know his girl. Charlotte would ride an awkward silence until the wheels fell off. Simply because she doesn’t think to fill it. That’s just who she is, she doesn’t fill silence, she doesn’t laugh at jokes she doesn’t think are funny and her fake smile looks more like an awkward grimace.

After a minute passes Lip decides to take mercy on the poor guy and hang up. “Uh, bunny, I gotta get back to work, alright? I’ll meet you at the house when I get off.”

“‘Kay!” she chirps. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Lip leans on the small wooden desk and waits for Eric to recover from the uncomfortable moment. “You, uh, needed something?”

“Right! Right, I did. Do. I need you to run some diagnostics on a program my dad sent over, I’d do it, but there’s so much on my desk right now, and you’re the only one who's as fast as me.”

“Sure,” Lip shrugs. “Send it over.”

Eric claps his hands together, a wider smile on his face as he turns to leave. The man stops mid-step, turning to face the blond again. “Hey, Gallagher, what’re you doing this weekend?”

“It’s my brother’s boyfriend’s birthday tonight so I’m gonna go to that. After that, I'll probably just find something to do with my girl, why?”

“You like baseball?” Eric asks. “Cubs are playing, me and some of the guys are going. You should come.”

Lip tries to look disinterested. He knows however much the tickets are he couldn’t pay it unless he dipped into the money he and Charlotte had been saving, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to sit where these rich pricks sit unless he emptied the damn jar. “I dunno.”

“C’mon man, my dad already bought the tickets. It’s team bonding and shit.” Eric continues, leaning against the door frame. “It’s on Sunday, there’ll be beer and baseball, what more do you need to know? You can even bring your girl, everyone else does when we go. Except the ugly fuckers who don’t have one.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, talk to Charlotte.” Lip says noncommittally, eyeing the other man as he nods, turning away and exiting the office. “‘Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian used to worry about his brother a lot. Really. See, Lip is the oldest brother, and he’s never stepped out of that role. Despite coming off as a pretentious, narcissistic asshole, his big brother was actually a decent person. He cares about his family. When they were younger and Monica and Frank were in and out, Fiona and Lip had to grow up quickly. Everyone always talks about how Fiona stepped up. How she became their mom, but no one talks about how even though he was only a couple years older than Ian, Lip became their dad. For the younger kids, Lip is the only steady father figure they know.

And being real, the kid has fuckin’ issues with women. Probably Monica’s fault, and all of their mommy issues manifested in different ways, Lip and Carl just have the misfortune of being straight. Between that raging bitch Karen who literally got off on fucking shit up for him, that old bag he was fucking at school, that one rich crazy bitch, and Mandy, Lip had been through the ringer. Not that most of that chaos wasn’t self-made. Ian wasn’t blind, he knows his brother is a slut.

So, when sweet, prissy, little Charlotte Fisher rolled into town with her big innocent brown eyes, wide smile and soft hands that would tell anyone she’s never worked a day in her life, Ian had been nervous. She’s nice, their little siblings love her, and he thought his brother would absolutely ruin her. Sometimes he still does think that.

But as time goes on, his mind has started to change. Lip has never called a girl his girlfriend outside of trying to get her into bed before. He’s never walked around with a polaroid picture of a girl in his wallet. He’s never tried this hard. This shit might be for real and Ian is happy about it.

Now, he and Mickey have an actual couple to hang out with.

“Last one.” Lip takes a deep drag from the blunt between his fingers, turning his head in the direction away from Charlotte as he blows out the smoke. He passes the blunt back to Mickey before walking a couple steps away where his girlfriend stands, wrapping his arms around her to share the warmth as she shivers. “Told you you’d be cold. Gonna catch fuckin’ pneumonia.”

“The cold doesn’t make p-people sick. G-germs do.” she sasses, leaning into him, letting out a small sneeze. “Don’t say anything.”

“Too worried about being cute. Should’ve made you put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

“Nah,” Mickey says, flicking the burnt leftovers of the blunt to the ground, walking over. “Princess here is our ticket to free drinks, she’s dressed the part.”

“We’re not pimpin’ my fuckin’ girlfriend, Mickey.”

“Isn’t she gonna start strippin’ like, next week? What’s the difference?”

“Oh-kay.” Ian interrupts, throwing his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him, “Let’s go in.”

“Wait,” Charlotte pauses, before they can start walking up the street to the bar. “Is, um, is Mandy coming? Because, you’re her brother and I don’t wanna, like,” she gestures between her and Lip, “rub it in, you know?”

“Nah, you’re good. M’seein’ her tomorrow, shithead has to work tonight.” Mickey shrugs. “Now, I’m sick of standin’ here talkin’, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and I’m fuckin’ sober, it’s ridiculous.”

The group makes their way into the busy bar. It was one of the few nights they had a DJ instead of a live band which was likely the reason it was so busy. Mickey and Ian shove their way through the crowd, Charlotte right behind them with Lip’s arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, holding her to him.

Once they find a spot with a little space, Mickey turns around and nudges Charlotte. “C’mon princess, this pussy already said he’s not drinkin’ cause he thinks he needs to watch me or somethin’, go shot for shot with me.”

Before the woman can even answer her boyfriend’s free hand is cupping her jaw, guiding her to look back at him, pulling her into a kiss. The word ‘no’ mumbled against her lips. She pouts, and the pair mumble amongst themselves as Ian and Mickey watch. After a few moments Lip rolls his eyes and nods, kissing her lips again before letting her go.

Charlotte bounces excitedly, grinning at Mickey. “Kay, you wanna see something cool?” Without letting him answer, she straightens, rolling her shoulders back and putting an arch in her back as she walks a little ways away to the bar where a couple of guys are standing. She leans forward on the bar, poking her butt out a little as she looks around, appearing bored.

It’s not long before one of the guys turns to her and starts talking, leaning down to whisper in her ear as his friends behind him stare at her ass. Ian turns his head to look at Lip, who is looking away from his girlfriend, the muscle in his jaw working overtime.

A couple moments later, Charlotte was coming shuffling back with three shots and a beer balanced in her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Drinks on me gentlemen.” she says, passing two shots to Ian, one for him, one for Mickey and handing Lip the beer. Lip’s finger slips through her back belt loop, tugging the girl to him again as he locks eyes with the guys who've purchased them over her head, sipping the beer they’d just paid for.

“Bottoms up, princess.” Mickey says, bring his glass to Charlotte’s before tossing it back. The men chuckle as the girl sputters and gags at the taste, one eye twitching with discomfort. Lip runs his hand along her side soothingly.

“Yuck, I don’t want any more of those.”

Charlotte had several more. Three and a half. She didn’t get a chance to finish the last shot before Lip wrestled it from her hands, slamming it down on the bar and pulling her away from it.

She, Mickey and Ian had done their fair share of dancing. It mostly consisted of Ian and Charlotte taking turns grinding on Mickey to irritate him and the two men occasionally stepping away to dance with each other, only pausing to scare off whatever guy that was trying to get Charlotte to give them the time of day. Lip lingered at the bar, offering them supportive nods and nursing his beer. He’d chosen not to drink too much considering he’d already smoked and his girlfriend was currently slurring her words together as she stumbled her way over to him.

“Hi, bubba.” she hums over the loud music, swaying to the side a little as Lip’s arm shoots out to balance her, pulling her to him. He nudges her nose with his before looking at her wide smile and lidded eyes.

“Hi, baby. Havin’ fun?” He smiles.

“Yeah.” she tosses her arms around his neck leaning into him. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“M’not, c’mon.”

“You haven’t danced with me at all, let’s go over there.” she whines, pulling at him and pouting.

Lip taps her lightly on the back of the thigh, “Stop whining” he murmurs in her ear before turning her so her back is against his front. Lip slides his hands down Charlotte’s sides to her hips, pulling her close to him. “I don’t dance.”

The woman in front of him rolls her eyes, placing one hand over his and the other going to the back of his head, burying in the hair at his nape. She turns her head so she can look at him with a sleepy smile. “You do with me.”

Lip leans back on the bar, wetting his lips as he watches Charlotte roll her ass back against him, grinding on his dick. His blue eyes shift between her ass and trying to get a glimpse of her face, one of his hands moving to the gap in the back of her jeans, grabbing the space there to guide her movements, biting back a groan when she bends in further, arching in front of him.

“Gettin’ sick of this place, ready to go birthday boy?” Ian asks as Mickey yawns. His mission was accomplished, he’d taken his boyfriend out, showed him a good time for his birthday. Tomorrow they’d do the family vibe, with cake, streamers, and his one sane sibling. He slings his arm around him and goes to guide him over to his brother and his girlfriend. The last he’d seen the pair they’d been basically fucking through their clothes against the bar.

The redhead pauses in his steps, laughing disbelievingly at the sight in front of him.

A couple feet away is his brother, his girlfriend in his arms. The pair are quietly laughing and leaning back and forth to whisper in each other’s ears. His brother’s stance is relaxed, the only thing tense on him is his grip on his swaying drunk girlfriend, an easy smile that Ian hasn’t seen in a long time on Lip’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d say he seemed happy. Charlotte’s hands cup his face as she drunkenly presses kisses all over his face, leaving pink lip stains all over his mouth, cheeks and neck.

Ian didn’t want to break up the scene but he’d really needed to get Mickey home. Once he’s rounded up the group, he and Lip guide their drunken partners to the car, ushering them in, and shushing Mickey’s slurred curses. After he drives Ian and Mickey to Mickey’s home Lip pulls off with a still very drunk but now a lot less rowdy Charlotte in the passenger seat, promising to return the car the next day.

Ian watches as his older brother climbs into the driver’s seat of the car, checking the girl’s seatbelt and brushing the hair out of her face tenderly before the drive into the night. As much as he’d felt bad for Mandy he’d known that she and his brother would never work. Ian loves her, but Lip didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He couldn’t convince her of that. But Ian almost wishes that she’d seen Lip tonight. He was a different person when he was with Charlotte, not so bitter. Not acting like he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As crazy and fucked up he is, Ian knows Mickey is what’s best for him. He’s starting to think Charlotte is what’s best for Lip.

“Fuckin’ Frank.” Fiona huffs, ripping her covers off at the sound of her front door opening. She’d bet all of the dollars she doesn’t fucking have that it’s him. Either way, him or whatever idiot decided to try to rob them were gonna get a bat to the face. She eases down the stairs, wooden weapon in her hand as she flicks the light on. “Jesus, Lip!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells. Slung over his shoulder is a giggling, very likely drunk Charlotte.

“Shit, is Lottie drunk? Good going genius she’s not supposed to drink ‘til her birthday.” Fiona hisses, running a hand over her hair and dropping the bat onto the couch.

“Well, Mickey decided they’d share today.” Lip grumbles, adjusting his girlfriend on his shoulder before pushing past his sister and going up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he feels her following closely behind.

Lip rests Charlotte softly on the bed, looking sighing as she flops backward. “No baby,” he pulls her up by her arms. “Up.”

Fiona leans in the doorway and watches in shock as her little brother cares for the girl on the bed in front of him. She’d never seen him be so gentle with anyone they weren’t related to. He chuckles lightly as he encourages the still giggling girl to lift her arms, tugging her tight t-shirt up and over her head, reaching around and unhooking her bra before digging in his drawer and pulling out one of his bigger shirts to pull over her head. “Pass me one of your wipes if you’re gonna stand there.”

“Oh-” Fiona had forgotten herself, so shocked by the scene, she quickly walks over to the bathroom, grabbing her pack of makeup wipes and handing them to her brother.

Lip takes the wipes and crouches in front of the girl, resting his hands on her knees. “Wanna go wash your face or are wipes good for now. Can you get up?” Charlotte’s eyes are clearly heavy, she leans her forehead against his, giggling as she shakes her head no, rubbing their heads together. “No? Okay, eyes closed, bunny, or it’ll burn.” The woman whimpers and struggles drunkenly as he drags the cold wipe across her face. Blue eyes sharp with focus as he tries to get every bit off. When he’s satisfied that he’d gotten all he could he kisses her lips before pushing off of the floor and reaching under his pillow, producing a light pink scarf. “Stay still, you know m’not good at this part.”

“Don’t wan’it.” she whines.

“You’re drunk, and you’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, if I don’t put this shit on you. Sit still.” Lip cups her jaw, giving her a serious look, only to be met with a wide grin. Fiona chuckles behind them, shrugging when her brother cuts his eyes at her.

“She’s gonna need aspirin and water for tomorrow.” Fiona offers.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I’ve had her chugging water since the bar-ow!”

Both Gallagher siblings look down to a now half asleep Charlotte, clean faced with her scarf tied as neatly as Lip could manage on her head, hanging slightly to one side. Her hand is up, offending fingers suspended in the air after pinching Lip’s arm roughly. “Ow.” she mocks, her eyes closing. “Be nice. She’s helping, trying to help me.” she slurs.

Lip rolls his eyes, offering a gruff, ‘sorry’ to his sister, as he nudges his girlfriend to lie down in the bed, kissing her forehead. “‘M’fuckin’ helpin’ you, brat.”

Another hand reaches out, this time to roughly tap him on the cheek. “Thank you, bubba.”

Fiona snickers again. “Bubba?”

Lip huffs, now starting to get himself ready for bed, flicking his sister off as a cue for her to exit. Fiona quietly closes the door behind her and returns to her room.

As she climbs into bed, she thinks to herself about all of the times she’d been embarrassed about her brothers’ behavior with women and men alike. They were sluts, the both of them, minus Liam and Carl. And often selfish, rude and disrespectful. But now they’d both found people who made them better. Who taught them how to care for people the right way, outside of the family. She was happy to watch them experience young love, no catches, no conditions, no reason to be hard all the time. They’d found people who looked at them like they were worth something. Worth everything. Fiona resolves to herself that she would find that for herself and hope her remaining siblings would do the same. She hated not being able to chat with V about the extent of Lip and Charlotte’s relationship. But maybe it was worth it. Maybe Charlotte and Mickey were. Even if they are extra mouths to feed.

Eric takes a sip of his beer and nods along with another dull conversation with his coworkers that he was forced to pretend he was friends with. They’d been here for fifteen minutes and thus far, two of them had disappeared to do coke in the bathroom, several of them had fought with their girlfriends/wives/fiancés and the rest had been droning on and on about the stock exchange, something that he truly knows nothing about. His fucking accountant handles that shit for him. He was bored and annoyed to say the least. The game hadn’t started yet and Rebecca had been a bitch all morning. She was mad because she didn’t feel like coming to sit through a baseball game, despite the fact that they’d not only have a box but an open bar pre-paid for. The only thing that got her dressed was a promise to take her out for sushi after. Eric fucking hates sushi.

Really, he was waiting on Gallagher. He’d actually been surprised with how much he liked Lip. He figured they’d have nothing to talk about, but the guy was pretty quiet in general. He was a great listener, and when he did say shit, it was actually important. Sure he seemed a little wound-up but he’d heard from his dad that their family friend, Ms. Helene helped him get this job because he’s broke and has got like, a family of 9 or something. Eric found the little snippets of Lip’s life he shared interesting. Like…well…his hot sister who’d stopped by for lunch one day. And his even hotter girlfriend he has a picture of on his desk, next to the picture of the 5,000 kids he lives with.

Lip shows up with Charlotte fifteen minutes before the game is about to start. The pair walk up, hand in hand, matching pace with his easy strides and her peppy steps. When they approach one of the guys from legal (Eric thinks) says what they’re all thinking under his breath. “Goddamn.”

The woman is wearing a cropped, long sleeved black top with low hanging black pants, her sparkling belly button ring on display. Over top is a button down jersey she’s left open and on her head is a matching Cubs hat, her long, silky black hair hanging down over her shoulders.

Lip is wearing a similar outfit, but with a black fitted sweater, his larger fingers intertwined with her smaller manicured ones.

Eric forces himself to stop ogling the girl, clapping his hands together and welcoming them over. “Gallagher! You made it, glad you came.”

“Uh, thanks for having us.” he pulls the girl closer by her waist, obviously noticing the eyes on her. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The girl says sweetly, offering him a smile as she leans into her boyfriend.

Eric urges his eyes to stay on her face, and off of their body language. But the way Lip’s thumb is rubbing along the skin on the girl’s waist, the way she’s staring up at him so adoringly, Eric felt like he was being excluded from something, despite fully being part of this conversation.

He doesn’t realize he hadn’t spoken until Lip takes it upon himself to introduce him. “Bunny, this is Eric.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m Eric, I uh-” he remembers her negative reaction to him referring to himself as Lip’s boss and flounders for an alternative. “I work with Lip.”

“Yeah, he told me.” she chirps, rocking on her feet a little. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve never gone to a baseball game. I’m gonna try my best to keep up, Phillip tried his best to explain to me on the way here.”

“Aw really? Well, my girlfriend Becca is an old pro, I drag her here all the time, she’ll teach you the ropes of how to keep occupied while we watch the game. Go join the ladies, she’s the one looking like she didn’t know she was coming here in slacks.” Eric smiles. His smile drops slightly as he watches the couple exchange a look.

Lip tilts his head downward, lowering his voice to a murmur Eric strains his ears to hear. “Do you wanna go?”

Charlotte mulls it over for a second before shrugging and patting his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine, hang with the guys, I’ll come back over if you miss me too much.”

“Yeah, whatever, brat, go make nice.” The blond banters back, patting his girlfriend’s ass as he kisses her before playfully shoving her in the direction of the women gathered around the drinks. Lip sidesteps a little, blocking the crowd of men staring at the woman’s ass as she makes her way over to the other girls. “You, uh, guys make bets already?”

Trevor, some guy from…marketing (Eric swears he’s seen him on that floor) sighs, “No, thank God you brought it up-”

Suddenly, they’re a very lively bunch, placing bets that Lip is apparently calling, pulling off his own hat and placing the money in it. Eric tries to focus on the fun and Lip’s apparent godlike memory that allows him to remember who said what, but his eyes keep drifting. He watches as every couple of minutes, Charlotte and Lip look at each other, checking in without saying a word before returning to their respective groups. Once, Charlotte had come over to bring Lip a beer once she’d noticed all the other guys had one. The only time Rebecca had come over was when she wanted money for a fresh pretzel and even then, Charlotte had been in tow. Apparently, the two women had been getting along well. Becca had demanded enough money to get Charlotte a pretzel too, to which Gallagher immediately reached in his wallet and produced money Eric knew he didn’t have to spare, and gave it to the woman. When they’d come back, Eric’s girlfriend had a pretzel she was already eating and Lip’s had chicken tenders and fries for them to share.

As the game got more interesting and the men started shouting and getting excited, the women grew antsy, Charlotte included. Seth’s girlfriend was really intrigued by the game, but that may have also been because she’s into baseball players. Becca was posted up in the corner, on the phone with the restaurant she wanted to go to and Charlotte was standing behind Lip’s chair, hands on his shoulders.

“Come sit, baby.” he says, patting his lap. Charlotte huffs as she makes her way around the front, plopping down in his lap and resting her cheek against his. “Lemme hear it.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and this game is long and you didn’t mention that.”

“You done?”

“No, and it’s cold.” Charlotte sighs. “Now, I’m done.”

“Now you’re done. Cool, I can go back to watchin’ now or what?”

Oof. Eric thinks, waiting for her to start yelling, throwing a fit until Lip offers her something to calm down. That’s what they all want, he thinks. Instead, her brows furrow and she glances at Eric before grabbing the color of Lip’s shirt, tugging his ear to her lips to whisper into it.

Blue eyes go wide for a moment before a ‘uh, fuck yeah, I wanna do that.’ is murmured and she’s hopping off of his lap. “Uh, hey man, we’ll be right back, do we need a code to get back in or…”

“Oh, no, man you’re good. You guys okay? If you need something they’ll bring it in here if we call down-”

“I left something I need in the car.” Charlotte intercepts, pulling at Lip again, leading him out of the suite. Moments later Rebecca sits down in Lip’s seat next to Eric, letting out a sigh.

“So, Phillip’s girlfriend gets to leave and I don’t?”

30 minutes later and the pair comes back, looking relatively the same, despite being slightly disheveled and what appears to be a fresh hickey blooming on Charlotte’s neck. The game is almost over and immediately Lip gets back into wheeling and dealing. He starts settling up on bets while Charlotte collects the numbers of the other girls.

“No seriously, we need to keep in touch.” Rebecca smiles, hugging the girl tightly.

“Yeah, girl, I’d love that, we should hang out soon.” Charlotte hugs back. “Maybe we’ll even let Phillip and Eric come on our date.”

“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to hang out without prying ears too. I’ve been watching you two, you’ve got to tell me what type of shit you’re pulling in the bedroom, you’ve got blondie wrapped around your finger. Eric told me you’ve only known each other a couple of months and at this rate you’ll end up with a ring before me.”

“I…I’m sure that’s not true.” Charlotte says quietly, letting her eyes travel over to her man, unsurprised that he looks over to her as soon as she reaches him, eyes locking. They’ve been in sync like that a lot lately. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since high school,” The girl huffs. “He’s dragging his feet as all men do. I mean, I’ve played my part, even got mommy and daddy’s approval. On both sides. We’re all fucking waiting on him. You’re smart, getting in on the ground up, not picking one that was born with a golden spoon shoved down his throat. But my parents wouldn’t settle for less. Guess yours are trusting the process.”

“Um, exc-” Before Charlotte can finish, Eric gestures Rebecca over and the girl pats her arm one more time before going to her boyfriend. Charlotte makes her way over to Lip, thoughts heavy. They are getting more serious. Despite being together for a short amount of time, she can’t imagine her life without him now. She’d been dodging the concept of introducing him to her parents for a while because she knew how’d they’d act. She’d seen a live demo of it with Kev. They’d treat him like white trash, the last thing Charlotte thought of him as. They’d be condescending, and mean. But it’d happen eventually, because…well she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and she hopes he doesn’t plan to either.

After everyone gets separated in the crowd of people leaving the game, Eric waits on the sidewalk for the car he’d called for him and Rebecca. She was babbling about something or another he didn’t care about when he saw Charlotte and Lip. The woman is giggling loudly as the man tickles her, the two of them damn near bumping people every few seconds as if no one else was here.

“I’m never going to a game with you again” the girl breathes, gasping in air as he stops tickling and starts holding her hand.

Eric watches as Lip rolls his eyes, pulling her into him as he walks her to the passenger side of some old, beat up truck. “Yeah, okay,” he laughs, opening the door for her, “I can hear you now when I try to go without you, ‘bubba, please, take me with you, I’ll be bored without you,’” he mocks.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“No?” he snorts, closing her door and going around to the driver’s side.

As he watches them interact Eric can’t help but think, he wants what they have. There’s a small pang of jealousy that rings in his chest. But it isn’t until he watches Charlotte lean over to manually unlock the door on the driver’s side so Lip can get in that an even more intrusive thought enters his mind.

I want her.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #love #charlotte fisher #better #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich

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