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blkkizzat · 8 months

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ღ𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟!𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Thrilling Ghouls

Kinktober Prompts: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? CW: AU. Most warnings for P2 really. Slightly dubcon-y. Bully/mean/teasing Toji. Bratty/crazy gf reader. Rough sex. Drug ref. Werewolf transformation but this isn't that furry shit lol. Omegaverse themes I borrow heavily from but I'm not following the rules of it faithfully (I don't even know them myself lol) WC: 4k of 10.4k Lightly black fem coded but no descriptors.

A/N: This one took a bit longer expected as I recently caught a cold, boooo! But I'm realizing even in my fics I intend to be PWPs I still need to set the mood and a plot springs forth lmfao. Plus I had fun actually trying to write a bit of horror in too! I decided to split into 2 parts because of the delay already.

Big shout out to an irl bestie @sairotonin for drawing a sketch of Werewolf!Toji for her inktober for me to use in my gfx. TY sis you a real one!!

Enjoy!

“In the next 500ft, turn left.”

This was going to be the third goddamn left the car navigation told you to take in the last 20 minutes. You were ninety-nine percent sure you had been going in circles and were now lost as shit at night in the middle of nowhere.

You glance at your phone sitting in the dash-caddy.

One measly bar.

The further you traveled, the more the service bars were dwindling as well.

Shit, you had 3 full bars last time you looked.

Opting to keep ahead straight instead of turning, you cross-check your destination via the spy monitoring app you had shamelessly downloaded on your boyfriend Toji’s phone.

Toji’s current location was 45 miles outside of the city and it had been a good 10 miles since you last saw any kind of highway. The area you were in was a mix between nature reserve and private property so not even GPS could pin down the exact directions to his whereabouts.

Sigh.

You had never wanted to be That Girl™.

You know, the ones who would sneak peaks at their boyfriend’s phones, were super insecure about any interaction their man had with the opposite sex and ran down on them while they were out to catch them in the act of cheating.

But you were a woman at the end of her rope.

What else could you do?

For a few days every month Toji would simply disappear.

The various excuses he gave usually centered around his work. You didn’t know exactly what he did, but you knew enough to know most of it was dangerous and wasn’t what good society would consider legal.

Toji had scolded you before for asking too many details.

For your own safety.

He would say with an arrogant smirk.

But even when working you had always been able to get a hold of him after a few hours. It was just this one particular job he would completely drop off the face of the earth for. It annoyed you, sure, but Toij’s work never followed him home so you didn't have complaints.

That is, until you had finally moved-in with him and Megumi.

Truly, you were already like a little family.

Megumi, who had just recently started preschool, had been quick to warm up to you ever since you and Toji first introduced you to him a few months prior to that.

But living together pushed things to a whole other level. Megumi would follow you around like a lost pup and often opted to sit in your lap rather than Toji’s.

Not to mention throw a near fit if you weren’t the one to tuck him in goodnight. (Toji would never admit he was a bit jealous and would only grumble slightly that it was less of a hassle for him if you did it so you should just do it from now on).

You never even realized you had such a mothering instinct, being on the same page as Toji about no more kids, until you looked into those little emerald eyes of Gumi’s and absolutely melted.

You had grown so close that the little boy unknowingly let it slip once while Toji was MIA on that job, that he was glad Daddy went on his daddy breaks once a month so you both could have fun together by yourselves.

You tried to keep your reactions in check for Megumi but that revelation completely shook you.

A “daddy break” didn’t sound much like a work trip to you which spiked your anxiety and caused you to spiral into overthinking.

Did he need a break from you too as well?

You couldn't very well grill a 4-year old and you didn’t have the nerve to just ask Toji straight out.

So you did the only thing you could think of at the time and that was to complain to your good friend Tsukumo over drinks a few days later after Toji returned.

Tsukumo, who always seemed to have the wrong answer for everything, simply told you to do the ‘smart’ thing and download a monitoring app on his phone that would log is calls, texts and whereabouts.

You initially balked at her.

Tracking Toji had never crossed your mind.

Outside of this, Toji had never given you a reason to doubt him and you wanted to respect his privacy and trust, especially trust as you knew he didn’t let many people get close to him at all.

True, he wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming man you ever dated. You were well aware he had his many skeletons as well as ex-hookups. But Toji for the most part had been content with his gambling then coming home to you and Megumi.

He wasn’t the type to ‘run the streets with the boys (he had no boys tbh), you had only ever known him to have the occasional drink with Shiu when he wasn’t out gambling.

You had almost refused to do such a thing… That is until Tsukumo posed the question:

What’s more important Y/N– your peace of mind or his trust?

And Y/N, is trust really what’s important here at all if he is in fact already taking advantage of yours?

Touché.

Tsukumo had you there.

“Besides, you think that old dinosaur is even going to notice an extra app on his phone in the first place?”

Tsukumo quipped, throwing back a shot of sake and jiggling the empty container at the bartender for more.

“You just got rid of his old flip phone last year. I’m surprised he can even use a touchscreen without punching a hole through it. Just delete the app once you’ve seen what you needed to see.”

Tsukumo gave you this advice like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ignoring her digs at Toji’s age, and maybe it was the 3 bottles of sake the both of you had blown through in the last hour, but you were starting to think she might be onto something.

“Mmm, on second thought, might as well keep it on there. Men like Fushiguro are dogs that need to be kept on tight leashes.”

Tsukumo grinned at you with a wink before turning her attention back to the bartender.

You still didn’t know then if you would actually go through with it.

Nevertheless, here you are now at 11:15 PM at night about to pull up on your boyfriend thanks to Tsukumo’s advice to find out once and for all if Toji was cheating on you.

You had dropped Megumi off at his best friend Yuji’s for the night, thanking Yuji’s parents for watching him and feeling guilty for lying to them that you and Toji had a date night.

Almost there.

You are within 2 miles of arriving at the vicinity of where the monitoring app says Toji is.

However, your anxieties were getting the best of you as you drove in near tears.

You turn up your music louder, the booming bass distracting you from how much darker and creepier it gets the further you drive into the wooded area.

Sighing again, you had no idea how this would turn out but you knew the result would determine whether you would be listening to Positions by Ariana Grande or Playing Games by Summer Walker on repeat during the drive back.

☠

Barely a half mile later, you see the engine light of your car flash. The pungent odor of burning oil fills the car as a plume of smoke escapes out from under the hood.

Goddamn it, Toji.

“Y/N, make sure to go get ‘er an oil change while I’m gone. Ya got like 15 good miles left on ‘er.” Toji’s voice rang in your mind.

Well the big lunk he was wrong.

You had driven at least 33 miles so far.

You mentally cussed him again.

Toji was the one who was supposed to change your oil, he used your car more than you did. Only opting to use his own blacked out unplated and unlicensed car for jobs like he was on now.

You wouldn’t have even left the house if it wasn’t for his sketchy cheating headass.

Okay, so you hadn’t exactly confirmed that just yet, but you were pissed and until you confirmed otherwise, right now he was a cheater and everything about this situation was his fault.

Pulling over to the side of the dirt road before you caused further damage to your car, you weighed your options.

Option 1: Call AAA

You had zero bars though.

Fuck.

Option 2: Wait here in the safety of the car until morning.

You would still have zero bars and you might miss Toji, making this whole trip fruitless.

If he beat you home in the morning and found you gone with Megumi at Yuji’s with the sad excuse for a 'date night' lie you gave, you would never hear the end of it.

He would taunt you into oblivion that your silly ass drove all the way up here unto the woods for your car to break down cause you were too busy being a psycho bitch to remember to get an oil change.

Option 3: Walk on foot the rest of the way to Toji.

Really the only viable option you had.

It was a good 12 miles or so back to the highway, you didn’t know how many turns you had made since then and you doubt you could make it back on foot anyway. If you were going to walk a few miles to get service again you might as well walk to where Toji was.

Sure if he wasn’t cheating you would still get ridiculed, but at least you could get a ride home.

And if he was cheating, you would hot wire his car (one of the few useful things he did teach you) and that motherfucker and his whore could find their own way home.

Resolving yourself to walk, you put on Toji's hoodie that fortunately was still in the backseat from him last using your car to go to the gym.

You really should have put more thought into planning this before you left. Besides Toji’s oversized worn hoodie that reached your mid-thighs all you were wearing was a thin white shirt and black spandex shorts.

You didn’t even have sneakers or boots, as you looked down at your fuzzy black slippers you mostly only wore outside to run short errands like dropping off Megumi at preschool or picking up groceries.

Thankfully, you did have a small flashlight in the glove compartment though in case of emergencies like this.

Flashlight in tow, you step outside of your stalled car and immediately suck in a worried breath as the weight of the chilly night settles over you like a heavy cloak.

You only have a mile and a half trek but the dirt road that stretches out before you looks endless as it disappears into the obscurity of the thick shroud of fog surrounding you.

The flashlight doesn’t do much to cut through the intense density of condensation. You had only made it a mere 20 feet from your car but you can just barely make out its faint outline.

Swallowing, you put on your bravest face and fix your gaze forward.

The reflections of your flashlight casts shifty patterns on the mist in your peripheral vision and you do your best to ignore the chill that creeps up your shoulders.

“Fuck you, Toji.”

You mumble half-heartedly, pulling the hood over head.

You didn’t really mean it though. Would-be-cheater or not more than anything you wished he was here with you now.

You were freezing, tired and all you could think about was how warm and safe you would feel in Toji’s arms. Even if you were mad at him.

You pick up the pace, wanting to get to him sooner.

Almost more unnerving than the fog itself, the forest around you is as quiet as a grave.

There are no chirps of crickets, nor hoots of owls.

Not even in the crisp cold of fall does the wind rustle through the trees, everything is silent.

The haunting nature around you seems to hold its breath as if it knows you're an unwelcome intruder who has trespassed too far.

You don’t dare peer into the trees which look taller in the darkness, closing in tightly on the dirt road. They are ghastly silhouettes of their former selves blocking any moonlight to help guide your way.

You shiver as you feel as if you are being watched from a distance.

The only noise you hear is the soft crunching of rocks and leaves beneath your feet with every unsure step you take forward.

You can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread as a stray tear runs down your cheek.

You couldn’t get to Toji soon enough.

Though you still didn’t have any service the GPS updated as much as it could in roaming, you were so close.

As you continue forward a shadow on the path catches your eye in the foggy distance.

Your heart quickens as you inch closer, your anticipation mingling with fear.

Shapes soon begin to take form and the harsh reality dawns upon you.

A pack of wolves.

Their shadowy figures coalesce before you through the fog as they take stock of you.

You start to feel queasy as you see their red-stained muzzles dripping with the blood of their latest kill. The grotesque carcass of a deer practically stripped to the bone lay lifeless under their enormous paws.

Their eyes, fierce and predatory, meet yours with a chilling intensity as the feeble beam of your flashlight washes over them. The deer, although large, you know is not enough to quell hunger from beasts of their size.

With a shaky breath you slowly retreat, not wanting to further agitate their already aggravated predatory senses.

Then you hear it.

From what seems to be the darkest reaches of the night, a sound reverberates from the trees, through the forest and beyond that's unlike anything you've ever heard before.

The howl that tears through the stillness is so chilling you instantly feel the lamentation that carries the weight of centuries of primal power down in the very marrow of your bones.

Even the wolves snap their heads to attention and bow their heads as if the sound announced the presence of a creature much higher on the food chain... something more ancient and malevolent…

...something terrifyingly unhuman.

The body racking shiver you experience is so intense it has you sprinting at full speed before your mind, frozen from fear, can even process you are moving.

You burst through the dense trees, leaving the road as your heart pounds like a drum in your chest and tears stream freely down your cheeks to soak the edge of Toji’s sweatshirt.

The tangled underbrush of the forest whips the soft skin of your legs and the forest itself seems to conspire against you as you navigate the obstacle course of branches, logs and large rocks all seemingly with a mission to slow you down.

You can hear the chilling howls of the wolves you saw on the road call out behind you, giving chase.

The sounds of their footfalls grow closer with every passing second.

Terrifying as they are, they hold no candle against the howl that sent you running and your body continues to propel you forward.

Panic frazzles your senses and you make the tragic error of trying to steal a glance back behind you before directly colliding with a large cedar.

Groaning from the impact you reel as you try to gather yourself, clinging to the tree for support.

You hear a twig snap behind you and you whirl around as you are faced with a largest gray wolf out of the pack who had been chasing you.

The alpha wolf’s teeth glint menacingly as their breath escapes in visible puffs in the frigid night air.

Too late to try to make a run for it again, you whimper as you resign yourself to your fate. You slid down the large tree to bury your face in your knees.

Was this it?

Was this how you died?

You weren’t even able to see Toji after coming all this way.

You also wanted to be able to hug Megumi one last time and maybe knock the daylights out of Tsukumo for her horrible ass idea.

But ultimately this was all your fault.

You could be snuggled up with Gumi on the sofa with snacks watching Anpanman but your dumbass had to go galavanting off into the middle of the woods like a fucking lunatic and now you’re about to be eaten by a wolf.

You could feel the wolf’s overbearing presence as it approached you but you couldn’t bear to look up. You’d rather spend your final moments thinking of Toji and Megumi.

Yet despite your impending doom, your head did snap up once you felt a rough tongue gently lick your ankles and curiously sniff at the ends of Toji's hoodie covering your legs.

The wolf was more than intimidating up close as its giant muzzle was the size of your entire head.

However the wolf regarded you cautiously like it almost recognized you before releasing its own chillingly deep howl and promptly running off.

Wait– T-The hell?!

You sat there at the trunk of the tree trying to process the interaction that just took place but you didn’t have much time to ponder as you heard something else approaching you rapidly.

The sound of snapping twigs and heavy, uneven footfalls don’t seem to be that of a wolf, renewing the sensation of dread through your body.

Your heart races in your chest as the ominous sounds of the being looming evermore closer become more pronounced.

From the shadows emerges a monstrous figure.

The fog doesn’t reach this deep into the forest and the moonlight that peeks between the trees glimmers on its enlarged taut muscles.

Its eyes, red, burn like fiery amber.

Fierce and resolute you can see them pierce through the darkness long before you can make out any features of the creature's face.

What you think upon first glance must be a demonic apparition from your worst nightmares ends up being–

Toji?!

As he steps into a beam of moonlight, the transformation before you is complete.

Toji’s once-human and feet hands have become formidable claws with nails like blades, his face remains mostly unchanged with the exception of his mouth which in his snarl reveals rows of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth.

He is still mostly human in appearance but you can tell he stands taller, nearly 8 feet.

The thicker body hair on his forearms bristles with raw power.

He was completely bare save for the tattered jeans barely hanging on his body that had torn from the sheer size of his enormous muscularity in this form.

Each step he takes towards you makes your heart skip a beat yet you stare transfixed, unable to look away and your tears increase.

Was this terrifying otherworldly apparition the boyfriend you had been searching for?

Time stands still in that haunting moment as Toji’s eyes bore into your soul with a predatory intensity.

His hunger and primal instincts radiates off of him like a palpable force.

“T-T-Toji?”

You cautiously inquire through your quiet sobs.

“Y/N?! What the fuck do you think y’er doing out here?”

Toji snarls back at you. His growl seems to cause the very atmosphere to vibrate and the earth beneath you quakes as your body involuntarily quivered with fear.

Toji thought he must have been losing his goddamn mind when he caught onto your scent earlier but here you were like a lost little lamb to the slaughter before him.

He came out onto the woods to be alone, away from civilization and away from you and Megumi during his monthly transformations.

It was safer that way, for all of you.

You had been fortunate the local wolf pack had acknowledged him as their Alpha and recognized his scent on you.

But there were far worse dangers in the forest besides them.

Toji wouldn’t be able to protect you like he was now.

Not with you needing protection from him too.

Protection from him as not only was it a full moon, it was a harvest moon, a mating moon.

The primal urge to rip you apart was only truncated by the more intense carnal urge to mate with you. Toji wanted to claim you as his and fuck you so hard into the girthy cedar behind you the entire tree would topple over by its roots.

He had wanted to claim you as his mate for a while now.

Even moved you in with him and Megumi as the final step but you couldn’t wait for that, could you?

You had managed to track him somehow all the way out here and throw his whole plan into the shitter.

He could barely control himself in this form as it is and now your scent, blubbering cries and the fucking harvest moon were sending him with full force into a fierce rut.

“T-Toji w-what is this!? W-what’s happened to you!? W-what are you doing out here?!”

Worry saturates your voice as you choke out your questions in rapid fire cries not giving him time to even respond.

Toji fights the predatory instinct in him who sees you as his prey and if your gaze wasn’t so focused on trying to read his face for answers you surely would have noticed him fully bricked near bursting out of his worn jeans.

You looked so appetizing.

He needed you.

However, Toji could tell your nerves were completely shot and the slightest twitch of his muscles toward you had you almost jumping out of your skin like a little bunny rabbit.

“Y-Y/N…”

His voice strained itself into a murmur as he attempted to do his best to lull you into some sort of security so he could explain things calmly to you.

Yet the way he was near salivating, drool dripping from his canines as he panted and towered over you did anything but make you feel secure.

You mistook his lust for bloodthirstiness.

“Just calm down. It’s OK.”

Toji needed you to be calm like he needed you to take steadier breaths if he was going to successfully win the tumultuous war he was fighting against his instincts to pounce on you.

There is an oppressive tension between the two of you and he can tell you are also fighting against your fight or flight reflexes.

Good girl.

It would be disastrous if you did something foolish, no telling what might happen then.

But unfortunately for the both of you, your fits of emotion and impulses are what had your crazy ass out here in the first place.

The pressure had officially gotten to you.

Toji’s lies, your car, the woods, the wolves, everything leading up to this point bubbled over because the last thing you wanted to be told right now was to ‘just calm down’.

You snapped.

“Ok? OK?! OKAY?!...TOJI WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT THIS IS O.K. RIGHT NOW!?”

You were practically hysterical as you yelled at him, momentarily forgetting your fears of Toji’s new form.

The trigger of being told to 'calm down' in a situation where you clearly had every right to feel every fucking emotion you wanted won out over everything else.

“MY CAR BROKE DOWN BECAUSE OF YOU DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT WITH WHOEVER THE FUCK OUT HERE, I LITERALLY WAS JUST CHASED BY WOLVES, ALMOST EATEN, AND Y-YOU… Y-YOU-”

A crackling snap came from above you and you realized Toji’s claws had completely ripped a large chunk out of the tree right above your head.

Your tantrum had in turn pushed him over the edge as well.

His irises flared intensely at you as you quivered under his gaze in fear.

He would have you but first, he would play with you a bit.

Things never happened the easy way with you.

Yet, that’s also exactly the way Toji liked it too. That's why he'd put up with you thus far.

A malevolent smirk dons Toji's features as his simple command issues an unsettling tremor running down into the depths of your being.

“Run.”

P2 HERE!

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛ��ɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: Count on Tsukumo to always given the wrong fuckin’ advice. Lmfao! Or was it the right advice in this case? Hmm we will see what happens next!

Smutty goodness in the next part. This part was just to set the horror mood!

I promise this fic isn't as nearly as long as Ghostface!Choso. It's looking to be about 8k total and I have 3.5k of P2 finished lol.

Reblog if you are both submissive and breedable for Werewolf!Toji, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

ღTaglistღ:

@callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @briefrebelfanalmond @nikkitc0703 & @dancingwithdeities (prone bone coming in p2 just for u sweets!) LMK below if you would like to be tagged in P2. For all kizzatober fic tags comment on m.list.

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tswhiisftteedr · 5 months

Note

hi!!!! could I please request general nsfw headcannons for vox, val, and velvette (or just your favorite of the 3!)? maybe especially with a slightly bratty partner? thank you! :)

Behave Bitch! ☆ Headcanon + Oneshot

☆ Valentino x Bratty!Gn!Reader, Vox x Bratty!Gn!Reader, Velvette x Bratty!Gn!Reader, and Valentino x Bratty!Gn!Reader x Vox:

You go out of your way to fuck with them and test their patience, and this is how their repercussion would be.

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation(Lots of of degradation), Oral Sex(Male Receiving), Penetrative Sex, Bad Spanish, Creampie, Possessiveness, Spanking, Choking, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Handcuffs, Blood, Biting, Electricity NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: Total — 13 806, Valentino(Hc + Oneshot) — 2419, Vox(Hc + Oneshot) — 2365, Velvette(Hc + Oneshot) — 3463, Vox & Valentino(Hc + Oneshot) — 5539

Note: So I may or may not be a total slut for the three of them, and especially a sucker for Val x reader x Vox action. Like how should I say it? Oh, yeah, I need them inside m— Hehsjsnsnjwns Awooga lol. *Bitch is used gender neutrally if you couldn’t tell. So 4 things, number one this Headcanons + Drabbles/Slight Short One shots, note that the example in the headcanons are just examples of scenario, and are unrelated to the drabble part, so don’t get confused when they mention one situation and then you read about another. Number 2, the type of reader was not precise so I went with gender neutral, so I’m sorry if the smut part isn’t the best as I am still lacking in writing experience to make something great with the lack of precise genitalia mention. But if you find it good, we’ll good for you! Also I used Google and translation apps when it came to the Spanish that Valentino employs, so I’m sorry to my Hispanic readers of the display of language is not to your liking. And lastly, I didn’t know how to write a slightly bratty reader, so I’m sorry anon if the reader is either not enough or too bratty. Personally I love a full on bratty, attention whore, whiny reader because that’s how I am.(If I was hot and got over my fear of being rejected, anyways-) That’s it for info about the fic!!

Author Note: As I am writing this, I am halfway way done with a lute one shot, but I must say, please stop requesting works. I put my request on pause, and I indicated that one both my Masterlist and rules, but seems that people are still confused because some of my older fics have ‘Request are open’ at the bottom. So please don’t request anything more, I have 34 request to start working on after I finish the lute one, plus I still haven’t started to work on chapter 3 for my Idia series. (12 of those request are actually Adam related, and one of them is a zestial one, where the requester offered to pay me for it, so it’s at the top of my list after this 💸💰. Though I still haven’t reach them because I want to finish my lute work first.) Also I am fucking pissed as I am written this, cuz I keep seeing clips of episodes 7&8 of Hazbin on tumblr, but I don’t have prime so I have to wait for stupid illegal websites to repost them. Like I am genuinely mad at the wait time, since my boys(Val and vox, my loves, my husbands, my #1 turn ones-) are in it. Worst part of it all I saw the clips of Vox literally thrusting into the air saying his hard and that the sight of Alastor bloody was better than sex. Like shit, did that make me horny. Like Vox, sweaty, you can take out that pent up energy from the build up excitement, I don’t mind if the other Vees are watching, Valentino can even join~ Hehsjjsjsjnsks. Update: I just watch the two episodes, and fuck were they good. Anyways I’m done, enjoy the fic cunts!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

ఌ︎ Valentino ఌ︎

Oh, you have no idea ‘what kind of gift you gave him with your behavior, Cariño~’

He takes pleasure in ‘putting bitches in their place,’ so feel free to be yourself, use that sharp tongue, but be prepared for the consequences without too much complaints. And he relishes in being the one to mete out repercussions.

Valentino's approach is straightforward; he often lets you play and act as bratty as you want while casually keeping an eye on you. ‘No need to worry; he's merely observing.’

He'd allow you to talk back, tolerating insults, while seated in the VIP section of one of his clubs, surrounded by smoke and flirting demons. All that set up to provoke you into further incriminate yourself.

Despite the condescending expression on his face, you didn’t have anything to about him, everything appearing ordinary, considering he was Val. Nothing seemed suspicious for a while... and then, ¡Bam!

You find yourself dragged into the club's private bedroom, now in a position where you're either tied up or bent over his lap/desk, enduring a session of intense spanking for being a 'good-for-nothing slut,' with degrading comments throughout.

Valentino opts for a paddle, well aware of the sharp sting it leaves on your skin.

Eventually, he transitions to using his hands, relishing in the visible aftermath of his touch—handprints and bite marks adorning your body.

As tears stream down your face, you apologize and plead to him ‘that you would be better, so please stop’ and that’s ‘ ‘s to much!’. He makes no effort to conceal his satisfaction, openly grinning at your vulnerable state.

Today unfolded like any other typical day in hell, as you paid a visit to your boyfriend on the set. Entering his studio, you hung back for a moment, observing Valentino directing the actors, his voice sexy as always but this time yet again fill with frustration.

Amidst the chaos, there were whispers among the staff about the planned star for the movie being decapitated and having to fill their role in with a newbie due to the lack of time ro wait for the actors regeneration, this bringing light upon the source of Val's frustration.

You pondered how much worse his temper would escalate if you followed through with your planned actions. However, that thought didn't weigh heavily on your mind, as you were determined from the get go to mess with him.

Emerging from the shadows and skillfully navigating the set while evading the cameras' gaze, you approached Valentino. Grinning, he remarked, "You came to entertain papi, how sweet of you, amorcito~" standing up and expecting you to jump into his arms.

Surprisingly, you kept walking, engaging in conversation with a crew member, casually flirting. Val struggled to process the fact that ‘not only did you ignore him, but you did so to chat with some nobody!’

Oh boy, was he pissed, yet instead of his typical inclination to abandon work for a tantrum. He had remained seated, continuing to provide screen direction to his actors.

Now that he was well aware of your actions, he had no intention of losing the little game you were playing. Throughout the shoot, he feigned indifference, though his teeth subtly gritted each time he caught a glimpse of you so close to that random sinner.

Despite Valentino's own lack of shamelessness when it came to sleeping around, he was still the ever so possessive and obsessive man. And having so hands-on with someone else, especially in his presence, drove him to the walls.

After 45 minutes of takes and retakes, Valentino directed his staff to wrap up for the day. Immediately afterward, he approached you, gripping your wrist forcefully enough to surely leave a bruise. He then ushered you into the elevator, ascending to his shared luxurious living quarters and, ultimately, his room.

Once inside, he roughly threw you onto the bed, using one arm to pin both of yours above your head, another around your neck, while the remaining two swiftly removed your clothes.

As he approached your ear, his breath on your face, he scornfully remarked, “You wretched whore, think you go and flounce around, letting some fucker feel you up! ¿You’re so desperate to get fuck, verdad, puta?“ His voice carried disdain for your actions, yet beneath it, pent-up sexual frustration lingered.

Now having you completely undressed, Valentino briefly pulled away to retrieve something from his nightstand. It turned out to be a pair of long, dangling cuffs, ideal for securing you to his headboard. And that's precisely what he did.

Bound to the bedpost, you tested your restraints with a subtle tug, ensuring they securely held you in place. You wanted to confirm if there was any potential escape route, making sure you were aware of all possibilities.

In an instant, you felt Valentino's hands on you once more, grabbing your chest roughly, squeezing them hard enough to cause some pain but not enough to leave marks. His fingers then dug into your sensitive flesh, leaving bruises visible through the thin layer of sweat forming on your skin.

His touch was cold and calloused, contrasting sharply with the warmth emanating from his body.

"You little slut," he growled, his accented words dripping with contempt. "You think you can just throw yourself at anyone, disrespect me like this?" With each harsh word, his grip tightened further, pinching your nipples cruelly between his rough fingers.

Despite the pain, a shiver ran down your spine at the prospect of what was to come. You knew exactly how much control he had over you now, and it was exhilarating.

"No, Val," you managed to croak out between gasps for air. "I didn't mean anything by it, really."

But your words fell on deaf ears; instead, Valentino's hand moved lower, cupping your hips roughly before squeezing them forcefully. "You fucking liar," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "You’re lucky your body is good at satisfying my needs, otherwise I would have already shot your ungrateful bitch ass!”

With that, you observed as he let his tongue swirl around his fingers, that action was followed by him teasing at your hole. “Wait Val, are you not gonna use lube—“

“Lube? Are y’a kidding me? ¡Shut the fuck up, puta! You should be crying tears of joy that I’m even prepping your undeserving ass.” Was all he said, before his fingers divulged into your tight hole, letting his other hand paw at your bits teasingly before pushing in a third finger inside you. The sensation was both pleasurable due to his aphrodisiac like spit and painful as it was all so sudden, it also felt as if he was claiming ownership over your body once more. Tears begging to role down your face at the stretch.

"You’re such a fucking slut, getting off on this, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice husky with desire yet stern. "You like acting like a desperate bitch in heat and piss me just so I can punish you, isn't that right, mariposa~"

As he spoke, he began to thrust his fingers in and out of your heat, pounding into you relentlessly. Each thrust caused your hips to rock forward, meeting his rhythm eagerly. Slightly letting reach down further, just close enough for his tongue to scoop your tears.

You could feel your body responding to the invasion, your hole tightening around his fingers, begging for more. Despite the pain, it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist the pleasure building inside you.

"No! Stop, please, Val!" you pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, he added another finger, stretching you wider. The sensation was both terrifying and arousing, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Eso es," he growled, his voice laced with lust. "tómalo todo, you filthy whore."

Just as you thought you couldn't handle anymore, he removed his fingers, leaving your hole gaping open and vulnerable. With a cruel chuckle, he stood up and unfastened his pants, revealing his massive harden cock, thick and veiny, throbbing with desire.

"Time to teach really you a lesson," he said, his eyes burning with hunger. "Get ready to scream, puta."

Without further ado, he positioned himself at your entrance, aligning his tip with it.

"N-no, please, Val—" you managed to utter out before he slammed into you without mercy, filling you up completely.

The sudden intrusion caused you to cry out even harder in both pain and pleasure. Your body shook violently as he started to thrust in and out of you.

Each powerful thrust pushed deeper than before, stretching you further than and further. Your moans turned into high-pitched squeals of mixed agony and pleasure, and your juices coated his member as he pounded into you relentlessly.

The bed creaked under the combined weight of their bodies, adding to the primal rhythm of your session. Your body bounced wildly with each thrust, nipples hardening further under the harsh treatment.

Your legs were spread wide apart, while your hands were still bound tightly to the headboard, rendering you helpless against his onslaught. You couldn't move, couldn't escape the intense pleasure building up inside you.

As he continued his brutal assault, your body adjusted to the his dick, becoming slightly accustomed to the stretching. Your walls tightened around him, milking him eagerly.

He groaned, his hips slamming harder against yours, his cock pounding deeper than ever. His hand reached up to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head forward forcefully, exposing your neck and throat.

"Open that filthy mouth," he growled, his breath hot against your neck.

You obeyed, parting your lips, and Valentino pulled back to spit directly into your mouth. The saliva was thick with frustration, a stark contrast to the usual sweet yet dominant taste of his kisses.

"Swallow it, bitch," he demanded, his voice full of desire. Your throat still constricted by one of his hands, yet you managed to swallow the bitter saliva, feeling it coat your tongue and throat.

The humiliation and degradation only served to heighten your arousal, your body quivering as his thrusts grew more frenzied. Your walls clenched around his shaft, urging him to go faster, harder.

"You like that, don't you? Of course you do!" he snarled, his grip tightening in your hair. "You love being treated like the worthless slut you are."

His words only served to fuel the fire inside you, your body shaking and writhing under his control. You couldn't help but whimper in response, your body betraying you with every moan.

Valentino continued to thrust into you, his pace relentless. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, ‘almost there’ you though.

Suddenly, Valentino pulled out, leaving you gasping for air, feeling empty and needy.

He quickly untied you from the headboard, dragging you onto your hands and knees, positioning you on all fours. His grip tightened around your neck, choking you just enough to make your vision blur.

"Don’t think I didn’t feel you clench around my cock, you ain’t cumming that easily," he hissed, his voice full of lust.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath, your eyes watering from the lack of air. He wasted no time, thrusting back into you, filling you up once more. This time, his thrusts were even more brutal, the angle hitting your g-spot with each plunge.

The choking intensified, making it even harder to breathe, yet you found yourself moaning louder, your body desperate for release. Your legs shook, struggling to hold you up as he continued to pound into you.

"You're mine, not any other overlord’s or fucking prince of hell, and certainly not that pathetic fucker from earlier, you hear me, Y/N?" he growled, his grip on your neck tightening.

You managed a nod, your voice strangled by his chokehold.

Valentino keeps his hold on your neck, as he brings one of his hand down onto your ass, leaving a stinging impact. The pain was a welcome distraction from the choking, making your moans turn into cries of pleasure.

He spanked you repeatedly, alternating between cheeks, leaving handprints on your flesh. The stinging sensation only served to heighten your senses, your body trembling with every smack.

"You're going to cum for me, slut," he promised, his voice low and menacing. "And you're going to beg for it." Following his words, the hand that was then on your neck was now grabbing at your hair.

Your body tensed, the pleasure building to an unbearable level. Your inner walls clenched around his shaft, milking him relentlessly as he continued to spank and thrust into you.

You couldn't help but comply, your voice hoarse from the choking. "P-please, Val, I need to cum!"

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts becoming even more frenzied. "I said beg for it, you filthy little slut!"

"Please, papi, I need to cum, please! I need so, so bad, ‘can’t think! I just need to come, please, please, please Val!" you begged,

Your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment. Valentino smirked, his thrusts growing even harder, slamming into you with all his might.

Your body was at his mercy, your orgasm building to a crescendo. You could feel the wave crashing over you, your insides clenching around him, milking his cock as he continued to pound into you. One of his hands playing with your front.

"Cum for me, you worthless bitch," he growled, his own release nearing.

You cried out, your orgasm overwhelming you, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Valentino followed suit, groaning loudly as he filled you with his seed, your body trembling as he came inside you.

He pulled out, leaving you panting and shaking, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. Valentino stood up, wiping the sweat from his forehead before lighting a smoke.

After taking some puffs at he grabbed your body once more, “V-Val??” You question in confusion, and the look he gives was so demeaning.

“Bitch, are y’a dumb? Don’t tell me you thought this was over already.” Was all he said before resuming….

Here you were, on the verge of passing out, body full of cuts, hand, teeth, and whip prints all over your body.

"You're lucky I love you," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of affection. "But don't you ever fucking test my patience again, amorcito."

You nodded, with the both of you knowing that it was a lie, you would definitely act out again.

Finally, your body lulled to dreamland.

⌁ Vox ⌁

Listen, despite his constant complaints about everyone's incompetence and having to clean up after their mess, he finds himself unable to do the same when it comes to you.

But, ‘fuck, did he adores your brattiness.’ It's not that he particularly enjoys dealing with your attitude; rather, it's the journey to the aftermath of your actions that captivates him. Overall, the right to fuck all of his day’s frustration into you!

Take, for instance, a meeting—perhaps not the most crucial, but still relevant, especially as it is concerning one of his latest products on the market.

Suddenly, you would barge into the meeting room, whining about him not giving you enough attention and accusing him of being all about work.

He would sweet talk you into silence until the meeting concluded, but that didn't imply you felt obligated to completely behave. As the meeting continued, you ended up seated on his lap, grinding yourself on his crotch.

Immediately after the meeting concluded and the conference room was emptied, he would lock the door. Then bend you over the spacious table, he pressed your head against the cold wood and proceeded to unleash a waterfall of insults, flowing from his mouth kin to water from a faucet.

He would fuck you so intensely that the both of you would almost lost sight of the initial cause. Almost, though you might have blurred the memory, he certainly hadn't. So as soon as his workday concluded, he would take you once again in his private quarters.

Forcing you to ‘repent for being such impudent slut,' reducing you to tears with his rough handling and verbal abuse.

Today was an incredibly dull day in hell. Wandering around the pentagram on the Vees' turf, you had an escort by your side as per Vox's requirement for taking a stroll outside.

There seemed to be nothing to do, or at least it felt that way. You managed to grab a cup of coffee, but beyond that, nothing fun was available, entering clubs required asking Vox's for his permission first. This ensured that he could assemble a larger entourage to guarantee your safety when you wanted to partake in the activity.

Despite your inclination to fuck with him, you refrained, recognizing that would be too much on his already overworked heart – he'd be more worried than irritated.

Opting for a tamer approach, you aimed to provoke him and get under his skin. Your goal was to distract Vox from his work, shifting his focus to entertain you. Making him jealous seemed the most effective strategy in your eyes, and that's where your escort, a tall and attractive hellhound, entered the scene.

Aware that Vox had eyes throughout the pentagram, particularly in this area, you initiated your plan with this knowledge in mind.

You strolled with your arm around the hellhound, falsely fawning over his looks and intellect, toying with his hair and even embracing him—all visible to Vox. Despite his busy schedule, Vox always kept an eye on you through the multitude of screens around pentagram city. And the sight of you so cozied up with the hellhound, left him seething.

What intensified the situation was your final gesture. As you bid farewell in front of the Vees' tower, you made the hellhound lean down for a thank-you kiss on the cheek, this fuelling your boyfriend's rage and insecurities. After that, you simply entered the building, mentally preparing for the upcoming interaction with Vox.

As you exited the elevator, Vox stood right in front, evidently having anticipated your return. As you locked eyes with him, the flames of anger and jealousy practically radiated from his gaze. It seemed your somewhat sadistic display had made a number on him.

"Hey, Vox, baby. How's it going? I thought you were too busy to step out of your office," you nonchalantly remarked, playing the coy card. Before you knew it, one of his clawed hands circled your waist, while the other firmly grasped your chin.

"Yeah, I was one incredibly busy man this morning, busting my ass to keep this shit show afloat. However, my partner seems to be utterly indifferent to it all. It looked as if they couldn't care less, with the way they were all over that hellhound-nobody," he remarks, his hand at your waist pressing into your skin.

"Oh, what on sweet hell could you be referring to?" you playfully feign innocence, this only aggravating your boyfriend's frustration.

"Do play games with me, whore. You know exactly what you were up to, the fact have eyes everywhere, and despite today's incident, I won't fire that guy because he's loyal." His face inches closer to yours, "If you were so desperate for my cock that you went out of your way to mess with me, you could’ve said so baby~ And I would’ve had you sucking me off as I work. But noooo, you just had to be be a a fucking slut and piss me off. Now let's see where that misbehaviour gets you, bitch.”

Now, bent over his lap, bottoms off, you endure the consequences as he delivers hits to your behind, while he casually sipped on a glass of whiskey;

You flinched slightly at each slap, but didn't dare to yell or struggle. Instead, you bit your lower lip and whimpered softly, your body trembling with each impact.

Your mind raced with thoughts of how much you deserved this punishment, how much you craved it.

"Please, sir, stop, it hurt ‘so much!" you whimpered between each strike, your voice cracking with each word. "I'll be a good, I promise."

"You’ll be good? Ha! What a fucking joke. You're lucky I don't break your pretty little neck right here and now. But since you asked nicely, maybe I'll i won’t hurt you as bad, this once. Now stand up straight and face me like the disobedient whore you are."

Slowly, you stood up straight, your legs trembling slightly as you awaited his next move. "Thank you, sir."

"That's better," he said putting his drink down on the nightstand, his voice laced with distain yet also a hint of satisfaction. "Now, strip for me."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to push your luck or not. But then again, you knew better than to defy him twice in a row. Slowly, you took off your sweater, removing a layer of heat.

Next came the your top, you began to undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing your chest.

You stood there, naked and ass completely bare, feeling exposed and vulnerable yet somehow aroused by the power he held over you.

"Turn around," he commanded coldly. Reluctantly, you turned around, your ass wiggling seductively as you did so. "Now, get on the bed, all fours, and face the mirror."

You complied reluctantly, feeling your heart race with anticipation mixed with fear. You knew what was coming next, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. You could feel his presence looming over you, his heat radiating off his body.

"That’s it bitch," he praised, his voice dripping with false reassurance. "Now, spread your legs."

You widened your stance, exposing your parts to him, the scent of arousal filling the air around you. "That's a good whore," he complimented, his hand reaching out to grab your hair and pull your head back forcefully, so you would be looking straight at the mirror.

"Look at me," he growled, his eyes boring into yours through the reflection. "Do you understand what happens to misbehaving sluts like you?"

"No," you managed to croak out, your voice barely above the sound of your pounding heart. "I-I don't know."

"Then let me educate you," he said coldly, his hand reaching out to slap your ass hard enough to leave a mark. "This is what happens to disobedient whores like you." Meanwhile he had removed his other hand from your hair, using it it to play with your front, ‘how kind of him~’

With each slap, his hand left a stinging mark on your ass, making it throb with each impact. The pain mixed with the humiliation and arousal, making it difficult for you to think straight. You squirmed and whimpered, trying to escape the torment but knowing it was futile.

"Please, sir," you begged between slaps, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'll be good. Just give me something more, please."

"You're sorry now? Too late for apologies, greedy bitch," he spits. But after a moment of consideration, he seems to have a change of perspective. With a wide grin on his face, “Okay then,” he says, releasing you and getting himself confortable on the bed. “Crawl over here and worship my cock, and I’ll consider forgiving you."

With shaking legs, you crawled towards him, your eyes locked on his hardened member, throbbing with desire through the fabric of his expensive pants. You reached out and undid them, pulling down his boxers and wrapped your lips around the head. Taking as much of his cock into your mouth as you could.

"Fuck," he says a bit breathless, this followed by his hand roughly grabbing your hair and pulling your head back and forth, face-fucking you.

"That’s right, show me how much you want me, how much you need my cock inside you."

You moaned around his cock, sucking and slurping greedily, your tongue swirling around the head, trying to please him. Your hands reached up, grasping his thighs, leaving wrinkles on the fabric as you held on tightly.

"Good," he praised, his voice becoming more husky with desire. "Now, let’s go back to the previous position." He tells you, forcefully pulling you off his dick.

With that you had his hand at your hole, rubbing and teasing your entrance "Spread your legs wider, and besides that, don't move a muscle."

You obeyed, spreading your legs wider, exposing yourself fully to him. He continued to tease and torment you, spiting on his fingers, he then digs into your sensitive spot, making you moan and writhe in pleasure mixed with pain.

"Tell me you're mine, bitch, that you belong to me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you'll do whatever I want, whenever I want."

"I'm yours, Vox," you managed to choke out, your voice cracking with each word. "I'll do anything you want!"

"That's better," he purred, his fingers leaving your hole and moving to your nipples instead. He pinched and twisted them mercilessly, causing you to arch your back and cry out at the painfully mix of sensation.

"Now, beg me to claim you as my own, not anyone else,"

"Please, Vox, claim me as yours," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'm yours, I belong to you. Take me however you want, whenever you want."

"Seems like your not completely braindead after all," he sorta praises, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Keep your legs open like that."

"Yes, Vox," you managed to mumble out, your voice trembling with fear and arousal.

“That’s it," his voice dripping with false affection. "You better be ready, because I’m still pissed."

Without warning, he grabbed your hair again, pulling your head back forcefully, exposing your neck to him. "This is for disobeying me earlier today," he growled, his sharp teeth shining in the light as he bit down hard on your neck. His teeth sank deep into your skin, sure to leave a mark.

As he moved to bite another spot, you writhed and squirmed beneath him, unable to escape his hold. His tongue darted out to clean up the blood that trickled down your throat. Meanwhile, his other hand reached between your legs one more, finding your front and playing with it vigorously, driving you wild with desire.

"You taste so fucking good, slut," he growled as his mouth was now at your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Don’t fucking play with me again like that what you did today, understand?"

"Yes, Vox," you managed to choke out between gasps, your body trembling with the combination of pain and pleasure. "I won’t.” A lie you were both aware of.

"That's a good bitch," he praised, releasing your neck and licking the mark he had left on your neck clean. His hands now solely focused on making you climax, in addition he would let out some electricity coarse through his and consequently your body.

Your body still trembling with the aftermath of his earlier assault, and his current touches weren’t helping you to stabilize. Your eyes rolled back as you felt close, ‘close to finally cumming.’

"Look at yourself, Y/N," he tells, his voice low and demeaning, well aware you couldn’t look at your self with the way we’re rolled back. "So fucking pathetic and needy for release… Beg for it.”

And so you did, "P-please, Vox... I need it so bad," you begged, your voice cracking with desire. "Please, let me cum."

His laughter reverberated in your ears as he continued to tease you mercilessly. "You want it so badly, don't you?" he asked, his fingers working faster and harder between your legs, more and more shocks divulging from him.

Your mind drifted away from reality as you felt the edge of orgasm getting closer and closer, your body tensing up in anticipation. "Please, Vox!" you cried out, unable to resist any longer.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Do you understand your place in this world and how you belong by my side only?"

"Yes, Vox," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing.

And a simple, “Cum.” was all it took for you to completely let go and the waves of pleasure take your body over….

You winced in pain while observing your reflection in the mirror. Bruises and bite marks adorned your body, and your swollen ass bore the aftermath of his restless assault. Dried tears stained your cheeks.

Then, Vox tenderly stroked your head, followed by a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Love you, babes, but don’t fuck with me like that again"

An ‘okay’ was all you had said before falling asleep.

✮ Velvette ✮

Despite possessing a sharp tongue herself, she has zero tolerance for sassiness or misbehavior. It's strictly 'her way or the highway, bitch!'

A single word out of place, and she'd swiftly grab your face, calling you out and issuing a stern warning to behave, unless you wanted to witness her truly angry.

Naturally, her warnings failed to deter you from persisting in your bratty behaviors; 'it didn't before, so why should it now?'

Turns out getting on Velvette bad side, wasn't as smooth sailing as your moment of unwarranted confidence led you to believe.

You might have casually stroll through her studio, engaging in conversation with her employees, consequently diverting their attention from work.

All this, despite their already tight schedule that you were acutely aware of, thanks to Velvette's hours-long bitching about it.

Nonetheless, you proceeded with your plan. In all honesty, given the hectic schedule leading up to the fashion show, Velvette had minimal time for you. Despite her efforts to squeeze out a few moments, the occasional 30 minutes a day left you unsatisfied.

If she wasn't going to provide the attention you craved, ‘you were determined to seek it elsewhere, easy peezy—‘ or so you believed.

Spotting you getting overly friendly with one of her models, she would forcefully pull you into a changing room, securing your wrist against the wall with one hand while using the other around your throat.

Insult would escape her lips as she vowed to in-still proper discipline in you in a more physical manner if simple phrases like 'I'm busy right now' failed to do the trick.

After leaving distinctive bite marks on your neck and collar, and leaving you with panting breath and puffy lips from an intense make-out session, she would resume her work. However, she would promise to teach you a lesson later that night as she exited the dressing room.

Honestly, among all three of the Vees, she was the only one with the decency not to do you in public.

"Today is already a mess, but you had to make it worse, you ungrateful bitch," Velvette exclaimed before storming out of her office, leaving you alone, bound, with vibrators attached to stimulate your body.

Now, how did it come to this? Let's rewind to 10:30 a.m.;

Velvette had overslept by an hour, throwing her entire schedule off, and in the world of fashion and social media, an hour is practically an eternity.

Despite consistently projecting an image of superiority, she was visibly rattled by being late. Knowing she couldn't control or turn back time, she relied on meticulous planning to leash the day. She's a bit of a control freak, if you hadn't noticed.

After a challenging morning of tackling voicemails and addressing urgent missed calls, Velvette managed to regain her momentum. Things were sailing smoothly until Valentino made an appearance.

Apparently, one of his employees had been shot in the face the previous night, resulting in a disfigurement that rendered them unable to participate in the planned movie.

Clearly frustrated, Valentino stormed into Velvette's studio to bitch about the situation, throwing things around and even ripping apart one of Velvette’s workers. This compelled her to call in a backup model, with rates that would disrupt her budget.

Not only did Velvette find this model too expensive, but she also disapproved of their overly flirtatious attitude.

And that's where you entered the picture, making her already lousy day even more exasperating. You had awakened about 10 minutes after Velvette, disturbed by her loud conversations on the phone.

However, it didn't bother you too much since your morning routine wasn't significantly affected by the late wake-up call. As Velvette's sugar baby and partner, she paid you to prepare home-cooked meals, be there to listen to her vent, and look good. As long as you weren’t the one who’s oversleep, you were in the clear.

In contrast to her hectic morning, yours unfolded at a slow and leisurely pace. You took your time with skincare and haircare, even savoring the breakfast you had prepared while Velvette rushed through hers to catch the elevator to her studio.

Despite disliking seeing her frowning and rushed in the mornings, you had held your tongue, aware that she wasn't in the mood to be told so. Besides, you couldn't help but smile when you noticed she had still laid out your outfit of the day despite her hurried state.

As half past noon approached, you descended in the elevator to her studio, carrying a warm lunch. Knowing she needed some persuasion to take a break from work and eat, even though she paid you to prepare her meals.

When she initially dismissed you upon your approach, it wasn't surprising. That was the usual routine. However, typically, after 15-25 minutes, she'd relent. Well, that was the norm. This time, an hour had passed, and she still adamantly refused to pause.

Bored and hungry, the usual scene of you two enjoying a shared meal and exchanging affectionate words was absent. Normally, you'd be showering her with praise, boosting her pride and motivation with each word. ‘This was how things were supposed to be,’ you thought, yet here you were, seated on a plush satin-covered chair in a corner of the spacious room.

Contemplating leaving altogether, considering nobody in the studio cared about your presence except Velvette, and she was currently too busy to notice. As you prepared to depart, a manicured hand rested on your shoulder.

"Well, hello there, sweetheart. What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" inquired the attractive woman with whom you soon found yourself engaging in conversation with. Unbeknownst to you, she was the backup model Velvette disliked but had to call in.

What you did know was that from her flirty attitude, to the fact she was feeling you up and the eye fucking she was giving you, that woman was definitely hitting on you.

You also knew you should have told her that you were with Vel, but after feeling ignored and abandoned since this morning, it felt refreshing to have someone finally pay attention to you.

Around 2:25 p.m., Velvette finally took a break from work, envisioning a moment to share lunch with you and perhaps find comfort in your embrace.

However, that dreamy scenario shattered when she looked your way and spotted 'that bitch Bridgette Bastia' not only flirting with you, her hand around your waist, but also eating away at HER LUNCH.

To make matters worse, Bridgette whispered things in your ear, leading to giggles.

Unlike Valentino, Velvette wasn't one to tear employees apart; she preferred the more elegant approach of firing them.

However, witnessing the girl cozying up to you fueled a desire in her to do something far less refined. She wanted nothing more than stab the chick to death(well, second death).

When Velvette confronted you about the proximity between you and the model, you had the audacity to respond with a cheeky "What's wrong, babes? Thought you were busy," accompanied by a sly expression and tone.

In a fit of rage, Velvette pushed Bridgette away and seized your wrist, forcefully ushering you into her office and slamming the door shut behind you;

"Today is already a mess, but you had to make it worse, you ungrateful bitch. Allowing that cunt to touch you so freely! Are you that much of a whore that you can't stand to not have someone laying their hands on you for a moment?" Velvette spat at you, accentuating her anger with a furious fist slam.

She yearned to make you suffer for intensifying her frustration, but hitting wasn't her style, and mere verbal assaults wouldn't suffice. That's when what she considered a brilliant idea struck her.

Utilizing her clothing transformation ability, she effortlessly rendered you completely exposed and bound with a mere swipe of her finger. Your once classy outfit morphed into an intricate arrangement of tied ropes, forming a captivating star-shaped pattern across your chest, in addition to a blindfold obscuring your vision, leaving you helpless in both movement and sight.

To escalate matters, she procured a vibrator from her office drawer and a ball gag she had used for a recent BDSM-themed shoot.

"You want to play the part of a needy slut, so I'll treat you as such," she whispered into your ear.

Following that, she attached the vibrator to your parts, setting it to medium vibration. It was intense enough to make your body react, but not strong enough to get you off.

"Behave until I return," she stated before departing, leaving you alone and exposed in the secluded offices.

Feeling the sensation of the vibrations consuming you, you clung to the hope that she was merely bluffing and would return soon.

Yet, you were well aware not to rely on that expectation. Once Velvette made up her mind, nothing you could say or do would alter her decision. ‘Knowing her, it wouldn't be surprising if she left you in that room until the end of her workday.’

As time passed the vibrations continued to pulse through your body, you couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and arousal. Velvette's actions were surprising but far from unpredictable. She had always been domineering and controlling, but this was on a whole new level.

You couldn't help but wonder how long you would be left like this, 3 hours had already passed by now, 2 more and the day would be over. ‘Did she forget you were in there, or was she intentionally keep you bound and stimulated to teach you a lesson?’

Your mind began to race with thoughts of escape. With your hands tied, it wouldn't be easy, but surely you could find a way to free yourself. The sensation of vibrator was becoming more intense with each passing minute, making it harder to concentrate on your predicament.

As you wriggled and squirmed, trying to find a way to release yourself, the door to the office creaked open. You tensed up, hoping it was Velvette, ready to release you from your captive state.

But instead, it was none other than Valentino, a cloud of red smoke surrounding him, and a smirk appearing on his face as he took in the sight before him.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Valentino drawled with his condescending smirk, his eyes inspecting your bound and stimulated form. "I guess you've managed to piss off our dear Velvette, huh? Serves you right. I've always known you were spoiled little bitch that didn’t know their place."

He sauntered over to you, his black heel boots clicking against the hardwood floor. "Thought you could get away with flirting with another woman right in her studio? You're a dumber than I if you thought she'd let that slide."

He leaned in close, his breath hot and rank against your ear. "She's got a mean streak, you know. You should have just waited patiently instead of pulling that kind of stunt. I’d keep my eyes peeled and my mouth shut from then on if I were you."

With that, Valentino turned on his heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room now filled with smoke with your humiliation and aching body…

About 10 minutes later Velvette stormed into the office, her face twisted in anger. She had received a text message from Valentino, no doubt gloating about the situation he had just witnessed.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene before her: you, bound and stimulated, with a look of both embarrassment and arousal on your face.

Velvette's lips curled into a sneer as she stepped into the room, a mixture of anger and amusement playing across her features. "What a fucking mess," she muttered under her breath, crossing the room to stand before you.

"I told you to behave, and this is what happens? Valentino gets a peek at your pathetic state," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She reached down and flicked the vibrators, making you flinch and moan softly around your gag.

"Oh, look at that, you're already soaking wet," she teased, her fingers tracing the contours of the vibrator attached to you. "I can't believe I have to deal with this. And here I thought you were smarter than that.”

Velvette couldn't resist the urge to taunt you further, her fingers gently probing your slick, throbbing intimates. She knew full well the effect it would have on you, and the way you squirmed only fueled her desire to humiliate you.

"You're so wet, darling. It's almost as if you enjoyed having Valentino see you like this," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll make sure to tell him how wet you got from the embarrassment. Bet that moth fucker would love that, and so would you."

Obviously you weren’t into Valentino, and seeing like that you was the last you had wanted. So of course you violently shook your head in didn’t disagreement at the mention of her telling him more about your current interactions.

Thought being rendered Velvette’s pathetic bitch was hot, and an observer only reaffirmed the situation. ‘So maybe him walking in wasn’t ‘that’ unpleasant—‘

Her fingers danced against your most sensitive spots, eliciting strangled moans from you. "You're such a terrible liar, you know that? I can always see right through you," she continued, her voice a mixture of anger and arousal.

Despite your frustration and embarrassment, you couldn't deny the pleasure coursing through you with each touch from Velvette's skilled fingers. Her words and actions were cruel, yet they only seemed to heighten your arousal. As some sort of grace, she had removed the gag from you.

"It's not my fault he came in here," you whimpered . "I didn't invite him."

"Oh, please," Velvette scoffed, her fingers continuing their dance. "You're always looking for attention, always seeking validation from others. It's disgusting." Obviously she knew what she was saying was bullshit but it was fun taunt.

She increased the pressure, your body arching in response. "You should be grateful I haven't given you to him yet. He'd probably enjoy watching you squirm even more than I do."

Her words stung, but they also fueled your arousal. You knew she was right; you did crave attention, and Velvette's treatment of you only made it worse.

"Please, Velvette," you pleaded, your voice barely audible. "I'm sorry. Just let me cum please." Hours of stimulation plus the added stimulation had become to much for you, if you didn’t cum soon you would go crazy.

Velvette smirked at your plea, her fingers slowing down for a moment. "Oh, you want to cum, is that so?" she purred, stepping closer to you. "And what makes you thing you deserve it, huh? After your behaviour today, you’re gonna have to earn it."

She reached down and untying the vibration, removing it from your body altogether. "Now, you're going to eat me out and beg for me to make you cum. If you do a good job, I might just let you."

You felt a mixture of relief and panic as the vibrators were removed. While your body ached for release, the idea of pleasuring Velvette made you both nervous and excited, especially because your climax depended on it.

"Don't disappoint me," she warned, her eyes locked on yours. "I'm not in the mood for any more disobedience."

With a final glare, she stepped back, giving you room to kneel before her. Your heart raced as you watched her unzip her pants, revealing pretty pussy.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking between Velvette's smirking face and the task ahead of you. You could feel the tension in your body, the need to cum be touched overwhelming. But you knew you had no choice but to obey.

Mustering your courage, you lowered your head, your tongue darting out to trace the edge of Velvette's lace panties. The fabric was slick with arousal, and you knew she was already wet for you. She removed the arrival clothing herself as you were still bound.

With a deep breath, you began to lick and suck, your hands in fist to bring yourself some security. Velvette's hands threaded through your hair, guiding you as you tasted her.

"That's it, slut," she hissed, her voice low and dark. "Show me how sorry you are."

You redoubled your efforts, licking and nibbling at her skin, flicking your tongue against her clit. Velvette's breath hitched, her fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, that feels good," she growled, her body arching into your mouth. "But you still haven't earned your orgasm."

You knew she was right, and you concentrated on pleasing her, your tongue working in tandem. Velvette's moans grew louder, her thighs shaking.

"You're doing well, Y/N," she said, her voice a ragged whisper. "But you still have a long way to go."

Velvette's voice was sharp, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled your head back. "Apologize for talking to that model," she demanded, her eyes like ice. "Admit that you were in the wrong,”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Saying the words would be humiliating, but you needed relief.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breathy. "I shouldn't have talked to her. I was wrong."

Velvette's fingers loosened, her eyes narrowing. “Better,” she said, her voice still icy. "Now finish making me come, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you cum."

You augmented your efforts, your tongue working with renewed vigor. Velvette's moans grew louder, her body trembling.

"You're close," you murmured against her folds, your own arousal reaching new heights, despite being the one getting dominated it was still hot to see her all shaky.

Velvette's body tensed, her moans growing louder as you brought her to orgasm. Her release washed over you, her juices coating your tongue and face.

"Good bitch," she panted, her body shuddering.

With that, Velvette pulled you to your feet, your bodies pressed together. Her fingers found your front once more, teasing you before starting to jerk you.

"Spread your legs," she ordered, her voice harsh. "I want a good view of your pretty body."

You complied, your heart racing. Velvette's hands played you like a fiddle, her gaze locked on your face.

"You're so wet," she said, her voice a mix of satisfaction and anger. "No wonder Valentino was so fucking smug about it."

Your body throbbed, the need for release growing stronger. Velvette's hands moved faster, her gaze never leaving your face.

"Beg me for it," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to make you cum."

You hesitated, your breath hitching. Asking for her permission felt like a betrayal of yourself, but you needed relief.

"Please, Velvette," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I need to cum. Please let me cum."

Her fingers paused for a moment, her eyes locked on yours. "You're so desperate, aren't you?" she purred, her fingers resuming their pace.

She increased her pace, her hands toying with you with expert precision. Your body ached, your moans growing louder.

"Tell me how much you want it," she commanded, her voice a low growl. "Tell me how much you need to cum."

You hesitated, your face flushing, but you needed her permission.

"I need it, Velvette," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need to cum so bad."

Her fingers slowed, her eyes never leaving your face. "You better make a good show, slut," she said, her voice tight. "Or I'll make you wait even longer next time."

Velvette's hands going faster, your body arching in response. You could feel the orgasm building, your breath coming in short bursts.

"That's it, Y/N," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Come for me."

With a final surge, you came, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Velvette's hnads never stopped, her thumb brushing against your most sensitive part.

"That’s my good bitch," she said, her voice satisfied. "Now, I think it's time for a reward."

She pulled her fingers from your body, her eyes locked on your face. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. The kiss was rough, her tongue probing your mouth.

Velvette pulled away, her eyes still locked on yours. "You'll learn to behave next time, won't you?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, your body still trembling from your orgasm. As much as the experience had been humiliating and degrading, there was something thrilling about it, too.

"Yes, Velvette," you whispered, feeling both exhausted and satisfied.

With that she untied you, dressed you back up and sent you on your merry way to your shared room…

𝐕 Valentino & Vox 𝐕

Is one cock truly not enough for you, greedy whore~

Firstly, what possessed you to believe that engaging in any kind of relationship with both of them was an intelligent idea? Dealing with one is bad enough, but two? Are y’a crazy bitch?! (By the way, the bitch is me, I need these motherfucker to tag team me. Now that this is said, no more interruptions.)

Initially, this situation would be chaotic, not only due to the on and off relationship these two shared but now, you're also giving them attitude? ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?!’

The atmosphere would swiftly shift, with Val embodying his short-tempered self, and Vox grappling with frustration, both using you as some sort of stress reliever as they would fuck you until they were relaxed.

Picture this: Val once again enraged at an employee, Vox desperately attempting to pacify him. You entering the room, trying to innocently retrieving your charger left there this morning—‘nothing too troublesome, nothing to escalate their moods, right?’

Well, not quite. The catch is that your attire was entirely off the mark. Despite it being a Wednesday, the designated day for pink attire as Val had explicitly stated, your outfit missed the mark.

And it wasn't just Val overseeing your wardrobe; Vox had explicitly forbidden overly revealing clothing, especially when walking through the Vees' tower where anyone could catch an eyeful of you.

The burning question on both of their minds, as you discreetly attempted to grab your belongings and make your exit, was: 'Why the fuck were you in that skimpy red outfit?!' (It’s also that fucking radio demon’s color! — Vox)

It wouldn't take long for the situation to escalate into a heated argument. You asserting your independence, claiming the right to wear whatever you pleased, and their response insisting you belonged to them, hence you would dress as instructed. In addition, you would also insults their masculinity and critiques of their chosen attire for the day, as some sort of pay back.

Controlling your clothing marked an expression of their intense possessiveness. Despite its occasional annoyance, you found it fucking thrilling to be both their lover and plaything.

And as you would flip them off and attempting to leave the room, you'd feel a pair of clawed arms wrapping around you, digging into your flesh and forcefully pulling you back in. With that you would end up all tied up, and edge by those two shitheads. Malicious grins plastered on their faces.

If 'dressing like a depraved bitch in heat and act out,' was what you whole heartedly desired, then they would just have to mold you into a well-behaved little thing, one way or another.

Eventually, you'd be so thoroughly overwhelmed and overstimulated that the thought of defying them, or anything thought for that matter, would be far from your mind. But ‘hey, a win is a win!’

The day kicked off on a hot, particularly for your two Overlord boyfriends….

Valentino tenderly woke you with a kiss on your hair, while Vox used tender words to bring you back to reality.

"Y/N, sweetheart, time to wake up," Vox said, your body jerking awake. As you rubbed your eyes, Valentino left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to jaw. "We wouldn't want our sweet Y/N eating breakfast alone," he whispered into your ear.

You pulled away the covers, stood up, and let out a satisfied groan as you stretched. Continuing with your morning routine, you decided to spice things up when having taken a glance at your fully laid out outfit of the day.

Facing your fully clothed boyfriends on the heart-shaped bed, you sensually removed your pajamas, earning a whistle from Valentino and an open-mouthed stare from Vox.

Fully nude, you executed a reverse striptease, putting on your fresh clothes with the same sexed up attitude you just had when shedding yourself of your pyjama.

Once dressed, you completed your look, including jewelry, hair, skincare, and makeup. Slipping away to the kitchen, you avoided the customary morning kiss, leaving your lovers slightly irked.

Your deliberate avoidance continued at the breakfast table, and although they were busy, your actions left them with a slightly sour mood due to the absence of the usual morning ritual.

Meanwhile, you reveled in the small power trip of influencing the moods of these powerful men with such little actions.

Several hours had elapsed, and it was now lunchtime. Knowing Val, he was likely already enjoying his meal, while your TV-headed boyfriend, Vox, was likely too absorbed in his usual surveillance to remember the existence of food.

Being the thoughtful partner you were, you whipped up something delicious and nutritious, heading to the underground watching room before Vox could realize his hunger and order his usual unhealthy fast food.

Despite his argument that the food he consumed you considered ‘shitty’ was quicker and simpler to get a hold of, you knew the toll it took on his energy, sleep, and mood swings. So once you became close enough to speak your mind, you had 'aggressively kindly' nudged him toward a better diet;

As the lift platform halted, holding a picnic basket, you walked the catwalk towards Vox's chair. Catching him fixated on the screens with no food in sight, you leaned in and playfully said, "boo!" prompting a high-pitched scream from Vox, earning a smirk from you and a groggy reaction from him.

However, his demeanor swiftly changed as he received the first kiss of the day from you and noticed the basket in your hand, realizing it was likely a meal you had prepared to share.

Grabbing the basket, he placed it on his desk and pulled you onto his lap by the hips. You both began eating, with you feeding him – a domestic sight only accessible to you and the other Vees.

As you continued to feed Vox, you couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him. You started grinding your hips against his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. Your hand slid up and down his thigh, sending electric shocks through his body. He groaned into his food, clearly enjoying the attention.

After you finished our meal, you stood up, playfully caressing the edge of his screen and smirking at the eager expression on Vox's face. "You know what, Voxy? You seem mighty stressed to me, and I feel it’s only right for me to do something about it, right?"

His eyes widened in anticipation, and you could see the hint of a blush on his TV screen. you leaned in close to his ear, your lips grazing the monitor as you whispered, "You wanted that, don’t you?. emphasizing your words by grinding against him once more.

Vox couldn't help but moan softly at the thought of what you had planned for him. His eyes darted around the screens, trying to find a way to distract himself from the tempting proposition, but that did nothing to help his heighten arousal.

As you began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, he bit his lip to stifle another moan. "I can't believe you're doing this right after lunch," he murmured, his voice trembling with desire. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that, right?"

You chuckled softly, a wicked glint in your eyes as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. Your fingers deftly undid the final buttons and pulled his pants down, revealing his already hard member. A smirk graced your lips as you teased him by trailing your fingertips along the length of his cock.

Vox's breath hitched, his eyes closing tightly as he tried to maintain control. You leaned in closer, the warmth of your breath causing him to shiver. "You're so hard for me, Vox," you taunted, but soon got to the task ahead.

You eagerly took Vox's length into your mouth, you tongue tracing the vein that ran down the underside of his member. You sucked him diligently, your cheeks hollowing as you bobbed your head up and down, your eyes locked on his. Vox's fingers threaded through your hair, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the pleasure washed over him.

As the sensations built, his hips began to buck, his moans growing louder and more urgent. Just as he was about to reach his peak, you pulled back, a wicked grin on your face. Causing Vox to let out a dissatisfied whine.

So with a giggle, you stood up, you kissed the side of his monitor and quickly took your leave before he could fully register that you had left him panting and desperate.

As he regained his senses, his mood was certainly not the best,— let’s just say he was pissed when he was force to take care of the erection you had caused.

Continuing with your day, it was now a quarter past four, and you knew Valentino was still shooting. With the same mischievous spirit you had when you visited Vox, you headed to Valentino’s studio.

Luck was on your side as they were on a 10-minute break, so Val wouldn’t be bothered by your sudden arrival. In fact, he seemed delighted to see you, welcoming you with a hug that involved all four of his arms.

In return for his affection, you gave him some of yours, expressing it with a soft, sweet, and brief kiss. But of course, the overlord of lust and depravity wasn’t satisfied with such a short gesture, especially considering the state you’d put him in since that morning with your little stunt.

With two arms propping you up and the others encircling you, he pulled you in closer, one hand lifting your chin to bring your lips together. And oh, what a kiss it was.

Your kiss was far from gentle; it was a collision of desire and intensity, fueled by primal instincts and raw passion. He drew you closer, if that was even possible, his hands gripping you fiercely as your lips met with a hunger that bordered on desperation. There was an urgency to your embrace, a need to consume each other completely. Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, teeth clashing and tongues dueling in a fierce battle for dominance—a battle that Valentino obviously won.

His touch was possessive, leaving trails of fire in its wake as he explored every inch of your skin with a roughness that sent shivers down your spine. You responded in kind, your nails digging into his back.

Your kiss was a whirlwind of passion and desire, leaving you both breathless and panting when you finally parted.

As he lowered you down, you felt slightly dizzy, ‘must be Val’s toxins’. It was then that you noticed some staff members had stopped their work just to watch you, and you couldn't help but shoot Valentino a glare after assessing the situation as ‘that bastard knew you were being watch but didn’t say shit so that his employee stopped, even a simple wave from him would’ve have done the trick’. However, he only chuckled in response.

Taking his place in his director's chair, he stared at you intently before patting his lap. “Won’t you stay with papi and watch? After all, you did spend lunch with Voxxy. Won’t you do this for me, cariño?” he asked, his request momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

It took you a moment to comply, your mind still processing the mention of lunch with Vox. ‘Had Vox told him what you’d done? Probably not, knowing Vox wouldn’t admit to being played like a fiddle by you. Then how—oh yeah, Vox took a selfie while you were feeding him, and he likely sent it to Val.’

With that revelation out of your mind, you settled into Valentino’s lap, one of his arms around your waist while the other had already started traced patterns on your thigh.

As the shoot began, you decided that Valentino should also get some of your ‘special attention’. With that in mind, you started to roll your hips. However, Valentino was quick to stop you in your tracks, his hand on your waist drawing you closer while the one on your throat and another on your thigh roughly squeezed the flesh as a way to say ‘stop’.

You listened to his warning, for a moment... stopping for 5 minutes or so before starting again, earning a hitched breath from the tall moth. His hold became more aggressive, slightly bending forward to whisper in your ear, “You’re really testing my patience, mi amor, and I’d suggest you stop unless you want me to fuck you right here and there in front of everyone.”

But you replied coyly with, “I don’t know what you're talking about,” emphasizing your words with another roll of your hips.

Despite Valentino being a sex maniac, just like Vox, he had grown too possessive to let others see you in such an intimate position, not even as punishment. So his current threat was all bark and no bite, and you both knew it.

He quickly realized that you knew, which caused him to ‘tsk’ and sit back. The man was too prideful to admit you were affecting him to the point where he couldn’t focus on his work properly. So his plan was to wait it out, to wait until the end of the shoot so he could put you in your place.

But by now, you knew him and his work too well. So, 30 minutes before it was over, you got up, informing Val that you had to go on a ‘bathroom break’. Of course, he allowed it, playing the role of the unaffected and non-retaliating.

But the catch that Valentino hadn’t anticipated was, this wasn’t a bathroom break; you had just run away without him noticing, leaving him to take care of his hard one just like you had done with Vox.

You giggled as you sat on your bed, thinking about how he would react when the shoot finally ended and everything clicked. And since you were already long gone, for time efficiency, he would just move on to the next shoot instead of chasing after you.

After all, he was on a time crunch; he probably only had 20 minutes or so of a break to take care of himself, definitely not enough time to find you and fuck you.

It was now 6 p.m., and you were out and about with Velvette, having grown close through your relationships with the two boys. She found you fun, and you could say the same about her. So it wasn’t out of the ordinary when she sent a text to each of them that she was taking ‘their bitch out to party’. As usual, she didn’t listen when they told her not to; she wanted to party with her bestie, and their boyfriends definitely weren’t going to stop her.

So there you were, clubbing hard, singing along loudly, dancing your ass off, and drinking in a manner that was definitely overindulgent, but who cared? You weren’t going to die from it.

As you were chatting it up with Velvette, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with quite the good-looking hellhound. He introduced himself as Marco and thought you were cute. He wanted to see if you could get drinks together, maybe exchange numbers. He was sweet and wasn’t forcing himself on you or anything, so you spoke honestly to him.

“I’m going to level with you, Marco,” you said. “Okay,” he replied.

“You seem like a very sweet hound, but I’m currently in a wonderful relationship with the loves of my life, or is it afterlife?—anyways, what I mean to say is thanks for the offer, but I can’t accept.” You rambled due to the alcohol already in your system, and Marco expressed that he understood and was happy for you.

But then an idea came to mind. “But could I actually ask you a favour, Marco?” you inquired.

“Sure, as long as it’s not too extravagant of an ask,” he replied.

“Never. Anywho, I was wondering if you’d be down to take a selfie with me, nothing too intimate, but you’d be holding me in it, like a really close hug. I want to tease my boyfriends, and that’ll definitely do the trick,” you told him.

He pondered for a second, then a “Sure, why not?” came out.

And so the selfie-taking proceeded. You followed through on your words, nothing but his hands around your waist. You knew that would get another rise from your ‘tv head and moth man’ when they saw your new Sinstagram post.

Were they going to do anything to Marco? No. You’d say something along the lines of ‘I’ll never forgive you’ and give them the cold shoulder if they did. Plus, they’d know this was just teasing, nothing more. If you had intended to make them furious, you would have kissed the guy.

Putting your phone down after posting the selfie with a couple of different pictures from the night, you soon felt it buzz. Looking at the notifications, they were texts from Vox and Valentino. But in your drunk and teasing mindset, you decided to ignore them, just shooting a glance at Velvette, which she understood meant ‘you can text them if they ask about me, but I won’t be doing it.’

She only rolled her eyes at that look but then chuckled at the thought of the state you probably had Valentino and Vox in, because those guys had some serious jealousy issues.

9 p.m. had hit, and you and Velvette had decided you were good for the night. So, calling your driver, you waited by the curb.

“You know they’re going to fuck the shit out of you for that little picture,” she said before taking a hit of her vape.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. That’s why I already left both of them high and dry separately today,” you replied. She looked at you, surprised for a second, then burst out laughing.

“Bitch, you’re crazy! That’s why I like you, though.” With that said, the car had finally arrived, and in about 15 minutes, you were back at the tower.

Velvette had shot you a teasing ‘good luck’ once you both had stepped out of the elevator on the last floor.

You took off your shoes before entering your room. Pushing the door open, you were met with your two boyfriends sitting on your bed, staring straight at you. They must have been waiting for your return.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with their presence, Val. It’s our little professional photographer," Vox remarks, his tone laced with amusement and spite.

"Oh, indeed, Vox. It seems that truly adore the art, don't they? So much so that they’ll snap a pic at any given opportunity, regardless of who they're doing it with." Val adds, his words carrying a subtle innuendo.

"Oh please, it was just a hug," you retorted dismissively as you turned away from them, starting to change out of your outing clothes.

"Just a hug? JUST A HUG?!!" Valentino's voice rose with indignation. "That mutt was practically fucking you!" he exclaimed. Despite Valentino's tendency to exaggerate, he was jumping to the guns, Marco hadn’t even been groping you, but you refrained from pointing that out.

"That hellhound shouldn’t have been in your vicinity, point blank," Vox added, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Valentino's statement.

"You two are such babies, you should stop fussing over a little selfie already," you scoffed, turning your head to look at them as you removed your last article of clothing.

Retrieving a towel from your drawer, you mentally decided it was time for a shower. In their minds, however, they were planning to make you pay for that picture and for teasing them earlier in the day.

In your mind, you were now going to take a shower, seeking solace in the calming embrace of warm water. However, in their minds, they had already made a silent pact to exact retribution for the audaciousness you had when snapping that picture and your teasing behavior throughout the day.

As you reached for the bathroom door handle, on of Valentino's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards the bed. His grip was firm but not painful, leaving no doubt that you were not going anywhere until they had made their point clear. Vox stood up and joined him, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he towered over you.

"We'll show you what happens when you play with fire, brat," Valentino growled, his voice low and threatening. Vox nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Valentino's anger.

Before you could protest or plead, they had you pinned down on the bed, your struggles met with their iron grip. Their faces hovered over yours, their anger palpable in the way their eyes burned with intensity.

Vox and Valentino started discussing strategies on how best to punish you for your transgressions, right in front of you.

"We need to teach them a lesson," Vox declared,"Something... memorable."

"Agreed," Valentino chimed in, tightening his grip on you as you tried to shuffle around "Something... painful."

"Yes, yes, something painful," Vox echoed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We need to make sure they knows who the boss is here."

In unison, they nodded ominously, their plans solidifying rapidly.

"This is what happens when you toy with us, bébé~" Valentino hissed, his free hand reaching for a belt that he kept nearby. The sound of leather hitting flesh echoed through the room as he brought it down on your thighs, the sting of each blow making you yelp in pain and surprise.

Vox watched with approval, his own arousal growing as he saw the marks forming on your skin. He moved closer, his fingers tracing the lines that Valentino was creating.

"You see this, doll," Vox purred, his voice low and seductive, "you see what you make us do when you behave like a brat. We don’t like hurting you,” a lie. “but can’t just let you do whatever, we do not tolerate petty disobedience, I thought you’d knew that by now."

His fingers trailed down to your chest, playing your now perked nipples. You squirmed beneath their touch, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

Valentino paused momentarily, the belt falling limply to the side. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered "Remember this, cariño. We may love you, but that doesn’t mean you got free reins to be a bratty ass bitch."

With that, he released you, stepping back to allow Vox his turn. The television-headed demon's gaze never left your face as he took the belt from Valentino, his eyes flickering with anticipation.

Vox cracked the belt across your ass, the sharp sting catching you off guard. You cried out, your body arching involuntarily as the pain seared into your skin. But then, an unexpected warmth spread through you, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that you couldn't quite comprehend.

Valentino watched from the corner of the room, his eyes locked onto your reactions. As you writhed beneath Vox's hand, he began undressing, slowly revealing his muscular form. He wore nothing but a pair of black silk boxers that did little to hide his arousal.

Once naked, he walked over to you, his steps confident and assured. He picked up a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand and began to tie your hands behind your back, securing your mouvement firmly. As the cuffs tightened, a jolt of arousal was sent through you.

Vox continued spanking you, alternating between the belt and his open palm. Your skin turned a darker shade, a testament to your punishment. Yet, despite the pain, you couldn't deny the rush of lust pulsating through your veins.

Finally, Vox stopped spanking you, satisfied with the sight of your reddened cheeks. He stepped back, admiring his work, before whispering softly, "Such a bad little thing, aren't you? But don't worry, we won't leave you like this. We're going to give you what you deserve."

Valentino knelt beside you, his eyes glinting with desire. He gently stroked your hair, whispering soothing words into your ear, "It's okay, amorcito. It's all going to be okay. Just let go."

Their words, combined with the physical pain, pushed you further into a state of heightened arousal. You felt your body responding to their dominance, your core throbbing in anticipation.

Valentino stood up, motioning for Vox to join him. They exchanged a heated glance, their shared desire evident. With a nod, they moved towards you, Vox taking your legs while Valentino held your torso. Together, they positioned you on your knees, your ass lifted invitingly.

Valentino reached for a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand, pouring a generous amount into his hand. He rubbed it on your entrance, preparing you for what was to come. Your breathing hitched as his cool touch met your heated core, sending shivers down your spine.

Quickly after, Vox moved behind you, his erection hard and ready. He positioned himself at your entrance, pausing briefly to grab your hair and look into your eyes. There was a mix of fear and lust in your gaze, and he smirked, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

With a swift thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. You gasped, your body adjusting to the invasion. His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust pushing deeper inside you.

Valentino watched intently, his cock equally hard and ready. He practically couldn't wait for his turn, but first, he wanted to see the full effect of their domination on you.

Vox increased his pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. His grip on your hair tightened, his other hand holding onto your hip for support. Each time he slammed into you, your breasts bounced enticingly, drawing Valentino's attention.

"Look at them, Vox," Valentino said, his voice thick with desire. "See how much they wants this. How much they needs this."

Vox grunted in response, his movements becoming more erratic. He pulled you back, using your hair to lift your head, and you found yourself looking straight into his cyan-colored eyes.

"That's it, whore," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "Take it like a good little slut."

Valentino joined in, running his hands over your body, pinching your nipples roughly. His touch was both tender and cruel, eliciting moans from you.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a soft purr. "You love when we’re mean to you, bitch~"

Vox then pulled you up into a chokehold, applying pressure to your throat. You struggled slightly, but the combination of pain and pleasure was overwhelming. Your body arched involuntarily, your climax approaching rapidly.

The pressure on your throat intensified, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Your vision blurred, your world narrowing down to the sensations coursing through you. Everywhere Vox touched felt electrified, every thrust of his hips driving you higher.

"Cum for me, bitch," Vox snarled, his voice hoarse with desire. Valentino continued to play with your nipples with his top hands, as his bottom ones took care your front.

Your release was imminent, the pressure building within you threatening to burst. You mewled, your muscles clenching around Vox, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave.

As you climaxed, Vox continued to choke you, his movements becoming wilder. You felt him swell inside you, his soon reached his climax.

Finally, he came, roaring your name as he filled you completely. He held you in the chokehold for a few more seconds before releasing you, allowing you to catch your breath.

Your breathing was hieratic as you felt your body plot down against the mattress. But to bass for you they didn’t intend on letting you rest.

Valentino stepped up behind you, his erection still throbbing. Without warning, he entered you from behind, his movements slow and deep. The sensation of being filled so so only after your first climax was quite the overstimulating one.

Without warning, Valentino pushed your head into the mattress, your face buried in the soft fabric. You gasped, feeling the sudden loss of control. He spanked you again, the sting mixing with the lingering ache from earlier.

"That's right, bitch," he growled, his voice rough. "Stay quiet. Take what I give you."

His thrusts became faster, his hips slamming into you with each movement. You could feel Vox's semen leaking out slightly, only to be replaced by Valentino's relentless pursuit.

Each strike of his hand echoed through the room, punctuating the sounds of your moans and their grunts. The pain and pleasure merged, creating a symphony of submission.

Valentino's fingers dug into your hips, gripping tightly as he pounded into you. Your body responded, moving with his rhythm, your inner walls milking him with each thrust.

Despite the pain, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of being owned, of being taken by these powerful beings. Their dominance over you was absolute, and it excited you beyond measure.

As Valentino neared his own climax, he tightened his grip on your hips, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Your body shook beneath him, your second orgasm building quickly.

"Come for me, slut," he demanded, his voice thick with desire. "Let me hear you scream!" He said as he pulled your hair, contradicting his previous statement about wanting you to be quite.

You complied, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Your entire body convulsed, your nails digging into the mattress as you screamed his name.

Valentino roared, his release pulsing inside you. He stayed still for a moment, catching his breath before withdrawing slowly.

As he stepped away, you collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. The room was silent, save for your labored breaths.

Before you could recover, Valentino had wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He entered you from behind, his size stretching you wide. Your body trembled, your nerves overwhelmed by the dual invasion.

Following suit, Vox positioned himself in front of you, his erection already hard once more. Without warning, he slid back into you, his length filling you from the front. You cried out, your body protesting the overstimulation.

"Shhh, calm down ‘bébé’," Valentino whispered in your ear, his voice husky with desire. "We're not done with you yet."

Vox started thrusting, his movements slow and measured. Valentino followed his lead, their rhythms meshing perfectly. Your body bounced between them, caught in a vice of pleasure and pain.

They didn't care about your limits, your protests falling on deaf ears. Instead, they reveled in your discomfort, their own desires guiding their actions.

Their faces were etched with concentration, their eyes locked onto yours. They seemed almost hypnotized, lost in the act of taking you.

As they continued to thrust into you, their movements became more synchronized. Their bodies moved as one, their hips slapping against each other. In sync, they leaned in, capturing each other's lips in a fierce kiss.

Tongues tangling, their passion was palpable. It was a display of obsession and possession, leaving you breathless.

But their focus wasn't solely on each other. With one hand, Valentino gripped your hair, twisting it gently. Vox reached around, caressing your chest roughly.

Their kiss broke, Vox shifting his gaze to you. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delved deep, claiming you as his own.

When he pulled away, Valentino took over, his lips crushing against yours in a brutal kiss. His hands wandered, cupping your face, and then moving down to your neck.

Between kisses, they continued to fuck you, their bodies merging with yours. Their actions spoke volumes - you belonged to them, and you should know better than to fuck with them.

With each kiss, your body grew more sensitive, your mind clouded with lust. Vox and Valentino fed off your reactions, their desire escalating.

"That's it, baby," Valentino murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "Let go for us." He said as he let his hands wonder down to your front to increased the sensation.

Vox nodded, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Yes, cum for us."

Between kisses, they increased their pace, their movements relentless. Your climax built quickly, your body shaking beneath them.

Finally, you came, screaming into Vox's mouth. Their thrust not relenting as they chased their own orgasm.

As Vox and Valentino neared their climaxes, their thrusts grew more desperate. Sweat dripped from their bodies, mingling with yours. Their gazes locked, a silent agreement passed between them.

With a roar, Valentino thrust deep inside you, his release spilling within you. At the same time, Vox claimed you once more, his cum joining lover’s.

You all panted heavily as they remained inside you, enjoying the aftermath of their conquest.

In the silence that followed, you lay between them, exhausted and spent.

Some ‘I love you’s were shared as you all drifted off, it looks like showering will a ‘tomorrow’ type of task…

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months

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Cozy Secrets || Bucky Barnes

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N discovers her seemingly perfect roommate, Bucky, is a spy.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

In the heart of the bustling city, Y/N found herself looking for the perfect roommate. Her previous housemate had bid adieu after getting engaged, leaving Y/N in the lurch to find a suitable replacement.

After countless interviews, Y/N finally stumbled upon what seemed to be the answer to her roommate's quest – Bucky, a sports photographer with a penchant for cleanliness and a propensity for quiet nights.

His nocturnal work hours meshed well with Y/N's daytime routine, and his willingness to contribute to the apartment's upkeep made him the ideal housemate.

The first three months of their living arrangement went smoothly. He was always punctual with rent, impeccably tidy, and even willing to take on household chores without complaint – he was the roommate Y/N had always dreamed of.

However, something twisted happened one day when she returned home later than usual.

As she swung open the door, ready to unwind in her sanctuary, her eyes widened in disbelief and horror.

Her once-immaculate living space was now a chaotic mess, and right in the middle of the turmoil were two men engaged in a heated scuffle, with Bucky caught in the crossfire.

"Excuse me, what the heck is this?" Y/N exclaimed, her initial shock transforming into a mix of rage and confusion. The three combatants froze, turning their attention to Y/N.

The two men, realizing they were caught in the act, exchanged nervous glances but didn't utter a word. Bucky seized the opportunity for a strategic move in the split second of confusion.

With a swift motion, he expertly maneuvered between the brawlers and shut them down with a series of impeccably executed moves, leaving them in a stunned heap on the floor.

"Bucky, what in the world is happening here?" Y/N demanded, her eyes darting between the mess and her roommate, who was now defensive.

Bucky, seeing the need for a more honest approach, took a deep breath and decided to come clean. "Y/N, there's something you should know. I'm not just a sports photographer. I'm actually a spy."

Y/N stared at him, her initial anger giving way to sheer disbelief. "A spy? Are you serious, Bucky? Is this some sort of elaborate prank?"

Bucky shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I'm dead serious. I chose this apartment because it provides the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on a target across the building. Those guys you just saw? They were after the same target, and things got a bit out of hand."

Y/N blinked, processing this unexpected revelation. "Wait, so you're telling me that all this time, while I thought you were just a neat freak sports photographer, you've been living a double life as a spy?"

Looking genuinely remorseful, Bucky began, "Y/N, I'm really sorry about the mess. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I didn't mean to put you in this situation. It was a mistake, and I take full responsibility."

Y/N, arms still crossed, nodded. "Apologies won't fix my now-ruined living room, Bucky. This is unacceptable. I thought I finally found the perfect roommate, not a spy who turns my place into a battlefield."

Bucky, understanding the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly. "I understand, Y/N. My agency will cover the expenses for the repairs and replacements. I'll make sure everything is back to normal. You have my word."

True to his word, Bucky coordinated with his agency, ensuring a team was dispatched to clean up the aftermath of the brawl. Broken items were replaced with new ones, and the apartment was restored to its former glory.

A few days later, as Y/N surveyed the now spotless living room, Bucky approached her tentatively. "I hope this makes up for the mess, Y/N. I really didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Y/N, now feeling a bit more forgiving, sighed. "Fine, Bucky. You've cleaned up your mess, literally. But I still need time to get over the fact that my roommate is a spy who uses my apartment for covert operations."

Bucky hesitated, "Y/N, I hope you don't want me to move out. I really like it here."

As Y/N contemplated whether she should ask Bucky to find a new place, her phone buzzed with a notification about her upcoming high school reunion. The idea of attending filled her with dread.

"Ugh, a high school reunion," she muttered to herself.

Bucky, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. "Problem with the reunion?"

Y/N grimaced. "I despise those events.” She doesn’t want to meet the popular girl from her school who constantly bullies her. But this time, she wants to show off. She got an excellent job nice apartment. But there’s one she doesn’t have.

A boyfriend.

Y/N looked Bucky from head to toe and mumbled, “What if..." But this idea was insane; she shook her head.

Bucky looked curious. "What if what?"

“Nothing.”

Bucky, understanding the high school dynamics, chuckled. "Ah, trying to one-up the mean girls from the past. So you need someone to accompany you? I'm in.”

Y/N fell silent for a moment, a realization slowly dawning on her. "You knew about my personal life?"

Bucky rubbed his head, a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. He didn't deny it, saying, "Well, I'm a spy, and my agency does background checks on everyone."

Her hands now covering her face, Y/N sighed, "Oh no...."

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "What do you think? With my spy skills, I bet I could impress everyone at the reunion. In exchange, please don't kick me out. Pleasee...."

Y/N grumbled, her frustration apparent. "Fine."

Bucky grinned, a mix of relief and amusement in his eyes. "Thanks Y/N. I swear you won’t regret this."

As they navigated the quirks of their unique living situation, little did they know that more surprises and adventures awaited them in the days ahead.

Chp 1, Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

#buckybarnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian x y/n #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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heevanly · 1 month

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.ᐟ TEASER: LATE NIGHT TALKS : LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

𝐬yn. : being the host of a college late night radio talk show was a passion project since freshman year of college, but now as a senior, y/n hadn't expected the fame it brought to herself on campus... but maybe it was the recent string of murders that caused more tuning in than ever seen before.

𝐰arnings. / 𝐭ags. : (18+!). series, not sure how many parts yet. gore. horror. college au. humor. mildly suggestive. no smut. slight smau...potentially? character death. enha members as side characters. lsf members as side characters. more to be added.

𝐩airing. : ghostface!co-radio host!heeseung x radio host!fem!reader

RELEASE DATE : MAY 19TH, 2024

TEASER WC : roughly 1.2k

FULL FIC IS OUT READ HERE!

❝welcome welcome welcome toooo SCU 101.85, you’re currently tuning in to the 10 o’clock pm talk show. i’m your host y/n and i’m here with my co-host..” you turn away from the microphone and glance at your co-host, lee heeseung.

“heeseung.” he speaks up into his microphone, shuffling a few papers around.

“and it’s currently a friday night, it’s 67 degrees out with a small breeze too so make sure you wear that jacket!” you chirp.

heeseung snorts and you pass him a look which he returns with a shrug, “you just sound chipper.. s’all.”

“ah.. well our ratings have been going up again.. it’s better than we’ve been seeing these past four months.. so.”

the past four months have been rather difficult for you and heeseung and the radio show. when you started this project sophomore year, it had just been you and your roommate kim chaewon, your ratings were steady in the beginning but had started declining after two months, which made your at the time co-host and roommate, quit. you don’t blame her, you nearly stopped too, which was before heeseung hit you up asking if you still needed another co-host.

accepting his help was the best thing you had done, his roommates jake and jay were all about the technical jargon behind running a radio show, which the reasoning was apparently the three had thoughts about starting a podcast but couldn’t get the timing right to actually get it started, so here they were willing to help you out.

production took off and the four of you found yourselves seeing steady viewers and got to even open a talk line, which was a segment that both you and heeseung took seriously, finding fun in chatting with anonymous students with various complaints they had of others, professors, relationships, or whatever else going on in their lives.

then, out of nowhere four months ago, the viewers started thinning out, causing your small team of four’s good feelings to falter. having been used to success it was shocking to be randomly met with a hard wall and seemingly, no way of getting out.

heeseung and your’s efforts were all in vain as you tried advertising the radio talk show, you had chaewon talk to her friends about spreading the show, heeseung talked to about it to his other friends and also had them spread the word. jake would mention it at his part time job, and jay even mentioned it at a small on-campus event, which he texted that he was never doing again out of sheer embarrassment.

heeseung hums, “well.. i could imagine people have been feeling a bit safer because of us, due to…” he trails off.

right, there's been a few recent deaths that have plagued not only your campus, but the town. you claim they’re very obviously murders while heeseung’s been claiming it’s been various unfortunate accidents. so far the death toll has hit only four, two on campus, one at a campus nearby, and one on the outskirts of town.

“the murders.” you finish his sentence off, gravelly.

heeseung rolls his eyes, but remembers that the listeners can’t actually see that, “you’re so obsessed with these being murders,” he teases.

“well.. it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask.

“ehh, i wouldn’t really say so, besides the two on campus cause they were ruled as a murder-suicide. besides that was two months ago and the one at KTU was concluded to be an unfortunate accident, shit what did they say about how she died again?” heeseung racks his brain, trying to remember how the girl from KTU died two weeks ago.

you scatter your papers around, “wasn’t it something about a lab issue..? their school got to close down because of it, that’s.. uh.. kind of all i remember about that.”

“oh you’re going to hell, haven’t you been following this whole thing since the murder-suicide on campus..?” heeseung laughs loudly and you slump in your chair, embarrassment flooding your system.

you sit back up and clear your throat, “in my defense..”

heeseung accusing points at you, “you! don’t have one.”

“pause, yes i do! rude…. my defense is that the fourth one’s been throwing me off with this whole thing, that i focused a little less on the third girl.” you huff out.

the fourth death was the weirdest in the whole thing so far, it happened a few days ago and it’s been the only one where the person involved wasn’t in the same age range and died supposedly.. well.. naturalistically. it had been a middle aged man, who was on his way home from work. apparently the report and the news claimed his tire gotten flat and when he had gotten out to check on it, he had been mauled by a pack of wolves wandering through.

the police and how they concluded it just didn’t make sense to you, you stayed up for two days trying to determine it all. first, wolves hadn’t been sighted in that area for several months so a random pack coming through didn’t make sense. second, the blood inside the car, how did it even manage to get in there if the man was supposedly outside? the third rea-

heeseung snaps his fingers to try and get your attention back to the talk show, “hey, y/n, quit thinking about it, you’re just gonna make yourself paranoid.. or worse.. obsess over this.”

“my bad, i just need to stay up on all this, our viewers need the information, they deserve the best after all.”

“and the best of the best is from two college seniors..?” heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“absolutely!” you respond, “we’re the only ones giving multiple sides to these events and ways to stay safe.”

“i’m sure the news have been doin all that too though.”

“pff, news schmooze,” you wave your hand at heeseung, “college students don’t care about tuning into the morning news before classes or turning the evening news on, we’re a source of entertainment AND murder mystery, and that’s what eats up.”

“you’re greedy, y/n, soo greedy.” heeseung shoots a grin your way, a way to let you know he doesn’t mean it.

trying to stop a grin from making its way on your face, you roll your eyes, “oh suck my dick lee heeseung.”

“gladlyyy..” he wiggles his eyebrows and chuckles into his microphone.

“you’re a freak..” you gather your papers back up and glance up at the clock, 10:26 pm, time to open up the first talk line segment of the night.

you give a small nod towards heeseung and he nods back and clears his throat, “well well well SCU you are listening on 101.85 and it’s rolling up to 10:30 pm, we got a two minute sponsor for y’all and when we come back live, our callers will be up discussin’ random whatever with us. give us a call at +82 70-5208-6001 and see if you’re lucky enough. again that is +82 70-5208-6001. see you all very soon."

both you and heeseung give a thumbs up to the room in front of you and jay switches your sets off, rolling the sponsor. a few seconds pass and before you’re able to turn to heeseung to just casually chat, the switchboard for the phone calls light up, more so than you’ve ever seen before.

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lovelytsunoda · 1 month

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indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

#liam lawson x reader #liam lawson smut #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 smut #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #Spotify

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wileys-russo · 9 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (5) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one part two part three part four

and as we await the fate of our two main protagonists eventual kiss. its time to find out what really happened six years ago. childhood sweethearts (5) II a.russo x reader

"do i need to pick you up tomorrow then?" your older sister lily asked as she pulled up outside the russo household, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel as you unbuckled and shook your head.

"no i'll probably stay the full weekend and just go to school with less on monday." you shrugged, reaching around to grab your bag off the backseat. "what about your uniform? books? your bag?" your sister frowned as you opened her door.

"i've got a spare uniform here, i can borrow a bag to put my stuff in and i've already got my books with me, i have to study." you patted your overnight bag as the girl rolled her eyes. "of course you do, does your brain even know what a weekend is or do you mentally go to school 7 days a week?" she jeered as you mocked her and flipped her off, closing her door as her window rolled down.

"some of us have aspirations to graduate lilian." you smiled, your sister having dropped out early to pursue a career in cosmetics which had lasted all of three months. "have a shit time dickhead!" your sister called out after you as you made your way down the driveway, flipping her off again without turning around.

"none of that here thank you young lady." your face flushed red as carol opened the front door for you before you'd even arrived, having seen you through the window. "sorry carol." you smiled guiltily, giving her a hug as she let you in with an amused smile.

"lessi's just showering sweetheart." the woman explained as you hummed, leaving your bag by the lounge and following her to the kitchen, you'd been wondering why the girl hadn't responded to you on the way over here and now it made sense.

"shortstack! i saw your hot sister dropped you off." gio wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before pulling you into a gentle headlock as you rounded the corner. "urgh you're like my brother gio thats so weird!" you gagged at the comment, wrestling to try and remove his arm to no use.

"oi get off her!" his grip disappeared as alessia entered, bottle blonde hair pulled up into a damp bun on her head as she punched her brother in the ribs, immediately pulling you into a protectively tight hug as gio let you go with a loud groan of pain.

"mum!" the boy huffed in complaint, your girlfriend rolling her eyes and mumbling an apology as the older women told her off. "i wish you'd fuck off back to jordan." the boy sulked, grabbing an apple and heading back upstairs to his room as carol yelled after him for swearing.

your girlfriend had only just gotten back yesterday from a week away at a junior lionesses tournament which had been held in jordan. as much as you'd missed her dearly you couldn't have been more proud of her or the two goals she scored, getting her rightful start in the final game. you'd only wished you were able to be there but you didn't have the luxury of a national call up as an excuse to miss a week of school.

"we'll be in my room mum." alessia announced, arm slung over your shoulder as the woman hummed and waved you off, head buried in a recipe book making you smile as your girlfriend lead you away, stopping to grab your bag for you, silencing your protests with a very quick peck to your lips after she'd triple checked no one else was around.

the pair of you had been seeing one another officially for almost two years now however no one but each other actually knew that, and just assumed you were best friends, forever thick as thieves and inseparably close.

neither of you had any idea how no one had caught on yet, maybe it was because you and alessia had always been so close and so affectionate nothing seemed out of sorts to the average eye.

you'd always loved alessia in one way or another. but when it was just the two of you behind a closed door and your lips were pressed together, cold hands roaming one anothers bodies, murmuring everything and anything you loved about the other, you were absolutely infatuated with her in a way so intense it was almost scary.

and that was one sort of love you both agreed you weren't ready to share with anyone but each other just yet.

though both of you did need to often stumble through pools of awkward lies and ramble quickly made up stories as you'd be called out by your friends for the occasional poorly placed or forgotten about hickey.

this was normally your problem. ever since she'd figured out how sensitive your neck was the taller girl utilised every and any opportunity to capitolise on that.

riled on by the whiny begs for her not to stop as she hungrily attacked and devoured your neck late at night, silencing you with a hand pressed over your mouth and a gentle warning in your ear that if you weren't quiet she would stop.

"hi." you breathed out with a grin, looking up adoringly at the striker once the two of you were finally alone behind the safety and security of her locked bedroom door. "god i missed you." alessia sighed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug as you reveled in one anothers touch.

"we spoke every day lessi!" you laughed into her shoulder, alessia having been told off both by her roommate ella and her coach for the hours spent on her phone when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

"we could be together every minute of every day and i'd still miss you." the blonde pulled away with a cheeky smile as you rolled your eyes playfully. "don't wish that on me please, what a nightmare!" you groaned teasingly as your girlfriend scoffed, holding a hand to her chest in mock offence.

"lessi!" you squealed as she tackled you down onto her bed, hovering over you. "that's baby to you, thanks very much." alessia pouted as you laughed, thumb stroking her cheek affectionately. "there is also something else i missed that we can't do on the phone." the blonde smiled suggestively, cocking her head to the side as her hair fell around you both like a curtain.

"mmm...nothing comes to mind." you looked off into the distance as if deep in thought, hand coming to stroke your chin as alessia playfully shoved your head. "kiss me then star girl." you smiled softly, tugging at her shirt.

as your eyes met, the world seemed to fade away. you felt her hand gently touch your cheek, slender fingers tracing a line down your jawline. hearts raced as her lips met yours, soft and gentle at first, then with a growing intensity as she poured into the kiss just how much she had missed you.

if you were sentenced to death the next day and were allowed one last day to do as you pleased, you'd be sure to spend it kissing alessia.

every single time felt just like the first. the same nervous butterflies would flutter around inside you, lips would tingle as if you'd just smeared them with popping candy, your heart grew five sizes to the point it felt it might burst in your chest.

each kiss was full of tenderness and passion, a dance of two hearts in perfect harmony as the girl who you trusted with your heart and your life drowned you with her love.

you felt her arms wrap even tighter around you, pulling your bodies close as you lost yourselves in the moment. the world around you ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in a sea of pure unbridled emotion, two hearts beat as one.

her lips always slightly chapped melded against yours perfectly, kissing you with just the right amount of firm pressure to have your stomach in knots, and yet each touch felt so soft and so tender that your brain went fuzzy at the sensation.

her hand would always reach out to tangle in your hair as your own gently carressed her cheek, thumb stroking her jawline, feeling it clench at the featherlight touch.

and then suddenly your lungs would scream for a reprise and you'd pull away, collapsing into the mattress as both of you lay on your sides, eyes locked as chests heaved and alessia leant forward to brush a few flyaways behind your ear.

gone were the afternoons of her kicking a ball at your head, smearing mud on your face as the two of you wrestled and rolled around in the dirt like steam rollers.

your afternoons now were spent wrapped up in the others arms, sharing kisses as you filled one another in on the seemingly more mundane parts of your day the other hadn't been present for, you and alessia only sharing two classes in your final year of school.

on the days alessia trained after school you studied, often at her house in her bedroom eagerly awaiting her to return.

the striker would have left her boots outside at her mums strict request, trudging up the stairs with an exhausted sigh as you'd perk up hearing the squeak of the infamous stair the two of you learned to avoid when sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack.

she would shoulder open her door and dump her kit bag on the ground, making a beeline for her bed and belly flopping normally on top of you, face buried in your neck as she clung onto you tightly with a mumbled greeting hello.

sometimes you'd wind her up and tell her you wouldn't kiss her until she showered, dodging her attempts as you teased her for smelling terribly which normally ended in her trapping you in a bear hug beneath her until you tapped out on her back and gave in, allowing her lips to finally meet yours.

other times she'd have been told she wasn't starting next game and her head would hang low from the moment she entered the room. you'd immediately sit up and brush your books to the side, opening your arms for her to melt into. carding your fingers through her hair and slipping a hand up her top you'd hold her tightly, rubbing circles on her back, lips lingering on her sweaty forehead.

as you'd always known, you loved alessia, nowadays in a way much more intimate and tender than you'd have ever understood in your youth.

"you're so beautiful." the taller girl spoke softly as you lay side by side, words melting you like butter as you couldn't help but blush, no matter how often she complimented you it still had you swooning.

"why are you so shy? it's very cute baby but we've known each other like our whole lives." alessia laughed as you hid your face in your hands, the blonde prying them away and attacking your face with kisses only making your cheeks heat up further.

her leg nudging yours as you lifted one, allowing hers to slot in perfectly, your limbs tangled up as your foreheads pressed against one anothers.

"il mio bel bambino." (my pretty baby) her lips moved to gently kiss your fingertips, hands held captive in hers.

"you learned more italian!" your face lit up in pride as alessia eagerly nodded, beginning to ramble about how she had made it her mission to continue her online lessons even while away.

"alessia mia teresa russo studying in her free time? has there been an doomsday i wasn't aware of? are you feeling okay?" you gasped holding the back of your hand to her forehead, squealing as her fingers jabbed sharply at your sides.

"yeah well unlike school work this is something i actually want to learn!" she rolled her eyes and you grinned, kissing her nose and swooning as she scrunched it up adorably.

"hey. can we talk about something?" the blonde asked hesitantly, eyes dropping down to avoid yours, messing with your fingers as you nodded, eyebrows knitting into a curiously concerned frown at what was to come.

"okay but i don't know how you'll react so we have to do the thing." alessia decided, looking to you for confirmation as you hummed, the two of you sitting up and spinning around suddenly.

you shuffled slightly so your back was pressed against hers, hands finding one anothers and intertwining your fingers as your heads slumped onto one anothers shoulders, eyes closing.

"what's on your mind lessi?" you asked softly, squeezing her hands supportively as she let out a long sigh. "well. when we were away a few of the girls were talking about their...well their first times, with their boyfriends." alessia started quietly, her heart hammering away in her chest with every word.

"and i guess it just got me thinking about it." she spoke a little quicker now, clearly nervous for your reaction to her words, squeezing your left hand to signal she was done talking for now.

"some of the girls at school have been talking about it too." you confessed. "are you thinking about...wanting to do that?" you asked gently, not wanting her to feel as though you were judging her in any way. "maybe? does that make you feel...weird, or anything?" she asked slowly.

"no, definitely not weird." you promised, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment. "i guess i think i'm ready? to do that. but i don't want you to feel like...pressured into anything. we can do it soon, we can do it later, we can never do it if you didn't want to." she assured, starting to ramble as you squeezed her hands, grounding her into silence again.

"i want to do it with someone i love and someone i trust and you're the person i love and trust the most lessi. i think i'm ready too, whenever it happens." you spoke softly, unable to see the blush creep up your girlfriends neck at your words.

and it did happen. it was a couple of months later when you had your house to yourselves, your parents having taken your brother away for the weekend for a cricket tournament and your sister disappearing around to her boyfriends house.

the first time it was awkward, nervous, weird and clumsy of course, neither of you had done anything like this before and you'd have been lying to one another if you said you both hadn't tried to do some...research on your own to try and best prepare.

but despite that, it was with alessia.

you felt safe and you felt comfortable and loved the whole time, it didn't quite have the ending either of you expected (that sort of ending came a few weeks later and boy oh boy...no amount of research could have prepared you for the feeling) but it only strengthened the trust between the two of you, and was yet another first you'd experienced by one anothers loving side.

they always say your first love is a little foolish, some may even say there isn't something called first love. but what makes those initial feelings of love most beautiful are it's innocence.

when you fall in love for the very first time, that innocence inside you, that's a precious thing. it feels like you give your whole heart to someone, and as if you wouldn't ever know anyone else to treasure and care for it.

which is why it was all too easy for alessia russo to be both your first love, and your first heartbreak.

it all started the day you got the letter.

your mum had found it first, fighting her every urge to rip it open and read your fate, instead leaving it neatly on your pillow for you to find when you returned home that afternoon.

you'd spent the day with the russo's, thermos of her dads famous hot chocolate in your hand, bundled up in a hoodie with your girlfriends jersey tugged over the top. you sat shoulder to shoulder with her brothers in the stands, watching your favorite blonde play in one of her final games of the season.

you didn't pretend to understand half the rules of football much as alessia had dedicated years of her life trying to teach you, and so her brothers knew to hit you with running commentary throughout. but the one thing you would always understand was the sense of utter euphoric pride which rushed through you watching her play, especially when she scored.

her arms would shoot up into the air and her eyes would always find yours, pointing up at you and her family with a lopsided grin, sprinting to celebrate with her teammates as you all screamed out encouragement, drowning her in whistles and claps before play resumed.

coming away with a 4-1 win meant they were in pole position to finish top of the table, and so alessia was unable to wipe the shit eating grin off her face as she emerged from the change rooms afterwards, waving goodbye to her team mates and jogging over to where you all waited for her.

she'd always hug her dad first, your girlfriend was the true epitome of his girl, and mario reveled in teasingly holding that over carol. you were always last, alessia always saved the best for last, picking you up and spinning you around off your feet as you'd laugh and sing her praises, the two of you hugging tightly.

"i love when you wear my jersey." she mumbled in your ear, sending you a soft smile as you bumped your shoulder into hers and the two of you made your way back to the car, her brothers talking her ear off about the game as you stayed stuck to her side, watching on with a quiet amusement, not understanding most of what was said but feeling nothing but pride for the taller blonde beside you.

luca had driven himself and gio as they waved you both off and headed across the lot, you and alessia slipping into the back of her dads car. her mum would always fuss over the two of you, throwing a blanket over your legs and ignoring alessia's insistence that she was still warm after running around for two hours, carol always winning out as your girlfriend rolled her eyes and gave in.

but the blanket gave the opportunity for your hand to grab hers, squeezing softly as you looked at her in admiration, her head falling tiredly to your shoulder as the two of you chatted along to her parents, waving them off as you pulled up outside your house.

you promised you'd give your mum a hug for carol, hugging them both goodbye. normally her dad would warn he'd be out the front no later than eight since you both had school the next day, but now graduated there wasn't a reason the two of you couldn't spend the next few days together if you wanted, likely flittering from house to house as you often did.

appeasing your mum with small talk for a few minutes you grew impatient, tugging on the back of alessias hoodie with a longing look as the girl would make an excuse, the two of you hurrying off to your room.

"why do you always make me end the conversations. i quite like chatting with your mum!" alessia rolled her eyes as you closed your bedroom door. "because she loves you more and she actually listens to you. and because i haven't properly congratulated you yet for winning!" you grinned as your girlfriend sat on the end of your bed.

"mm that so?" the blonde smiled, arms settling themselves around your waist as her chin rested on your stomach, your own hands playing with the baby hairs on the nape of her neck.

you were about to lean down and kiss her, when your eyes spotted it.

alessia noticed your frown right away, squeezing your hips to gain your attention as you shook your head, stepping away from her and making a beeline for the letter.

"shit is that-" "i think it is." "well, open it!"

"i'm scared. what if i didn't get in?" you admitted, biting your bottom lip nervously as alessia sat right by your side. "you're the most intelligent person both intellectually and emotionally that i've ever met baby, and you got phenomenal marks in our GCSE's. open it!" she knocked her knee against yours and you nodded.

"oh for god sakes." alessia huffed impatiently as you fiddled with the corner, peeling it off painstakingly slow as your girlfriend plucked it out of your hands, ripping the letter right open.

"no you read it." you shook your head as she tried to give it back to you, alessia nodding as her eyes scanned over the paper, face unreadable as you nervously bounced your knee.

"we regret to inform-" your body crumpled at that, flopping back into the mattress as you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. "only joking baby. you got in!" alessia pounced on top of you with a grin as you shot upwards, accidentally smacking your head into hers.

"oh my god i got in?!" you breathed out in shock as the blonde clutched at her throbbing head. "oh god baby i'm so sorry!" you squeaked out as she waved you off with a wince, opening her arms expectantly.

"i am so fucking proud of you. my pretty, smart, funny, kind, gorgeous-" the older girl kissed you with every word, the grin unable to be wiped from your face as your mum burst in, alessia very quickly jumping away from you as you filled her in on the news.

and as you jumped up to embrace her, your sister next to run in to congratulate you, alessia couldn't have possibly been any prouder.

but she also couldn't help but allow her mind to drift back to the box sitting in her wardrobe, signed four year scholarship and enrollment papers filled in and ready to be sent off to the states.

she knew she needed to tell you. but the thought of doing so punched a hole in her chest, and so she put it off as long as possible.

well, as long as she could until you found out yourself.

it was around a couple of weeks later, you were spending your usual friday night together, movies loaded and armfuls of snacks spread out on the bed awaiting consumption.

"lessi baby can i have a hoodie please?" you kissed your girlfriends jaw softly, the girl humming and pointing her foot toward her cupboard, engrossed in a video on her phone.

"yeah thanks, such a gentlewoman." you muttered, smacking her thigh as the girl whined and shoved you away. with a roll of your eyes at her lack of attention on you, you thrust open her cupboard, hunting around for your favourite hoodie which you knew she'd hidden, no longer wanting you to steal it as it was also her favourite to wear.

with a victorious grin you spotted the sleeve poking out from a pile of jumpers in the corner, rolling your eyes at her poor attempt at hiding and yanking it out. you frowned as a box lay hidden beneath the material, UNC on the front.

curiousity getting the better of you, assuming it was likely a new pair of trainers she'd bought and hidden from her mum as to not be told off for her spending habits, you opened it.

god, how you wished you hadn't.

your stomach leapt into your mouth as your eyes scanned just the first few words of the letter sat atop a bright blue sweatshirt.

"less. what's this?" at first she only hummed, attention still fixated on the video. "alessia. what is this?" you spoke louder now, the girls phone dropping from her hand as she looked up and saw what you had in your hand.

"baby-" "why the hell have you got a four year american football contract hidden in your wardrobe?"

"i wish you hadn't found that." she sighed, burying her face in her hands as you advanced toward her. "were you even going to tell me?" you whispered now, her head shooting up at the sudden change of tone.

"of course i was! i just...i didn't know how." she admitted guiltily, standing and trying to come toward you but you held your hand up in warning for her not to. "you didn't even tell me you were thinking about something like this, we tell each other everything." your voice cracked and with it so did alessia's heart at the look of utter betrayal splayed across your features.

"love-" "stop. don't fucking coddle me, explain." you forced out, letter still gripped tightly in your hand as you took another step back. "it's a four year scholarship to go play in the states. so long as i play with their junior team i can go to classes, live on campus and get my degree for free, and i get a hell of a lot of experience with a completely different style of football." she explained, a smile tugging momentarily at her lips, wiped right away at the look of disappointment on yours.

"i knew you wouldn't want me to go, or you'd try to talk me out of it." alessia admitted quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. "you what?" you managed out, shaking your head in disbelief. "i-" you started, trying to find the words.

"alessia i have always been your biggest supporter. i don't even like football but i go to every match, i make sure your kit bags got everything in it before you leave, i wear your jerseys, i let you kick balls at my head for years! you adore football. why on earth would you think i'd try to stop you from following that passion?" you frowned, shoulders slumping in defeat at her lack of faith in you.

"because it means we'd be apart for four years. don't even try to tell me you wouldn't have had an issue with that!" you were caught off guard at her sudden shift of tone, this one much more abrupt and sharp.

"don't try to project your guilt for not telling me into me being the reason why you didn't. that's not fair!" you shot back, alessia only shaking her head with a laugh. "you shouldn't have even been snooping around in the first place!" she snatched the letter off of you with a glare.

"snooping? i can see that offer is signed alessia, were you even going to tell me before you sent it off?" you asked with a hard stare, face falling as guilt flashed across her face momentarily. "you've already sent it." you realized quietly, her head hanging low all the confirmation you needed.

"wow." you breathed out, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed as you tried to come to terms with everything, feeling her sit down a few feet away from you. "when do you leave?" you whispered, feeling her eyes pierce into the side of your head but not having the heart to look up from the floor, the room starting to spin.

"two weeks."

your head did shoot up at that, alessia wincing at the anger, hurt, betrayal and disappointment clear as day in your features. "two fucking weeks. you didn't tell me and you leave in two weeks?" you breathed out, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

"i was going to i promise but i just...i thought it would make everything easier if we didn't-" alessia struggled with her words, tripping over herself as her fingers twitched and she rubbed her palms against her sweats.

"make what easier?" you caught on right away to what she meant, the room starting to feel awfully small as your chest tightened. and meeting your eyes alessia knew you knew what she meant. "everything." the blondes own eyes welled up with tears as you wiped at your face with the back of your arm.

"were you even going to tell me?" you asked, scarily calm as you stared her down, watching her wither underneath your piercingly angry gaze. "no." she admitted after a moment, burying her head in her hands, body wracking with quiet sobs as she began to break.

your legs buckled at that and your body fell to her floor with a small thump, your knees tucking into your chest as you curled into a ball. "so you were going to just leave and what? expect me to just...be okay with that?" you asked, unable to even wrap your head around any of this.

"you're going to college here, i'll be over there. it wouldn't have worked for four years and we both deserve to be able to make the best of this next chapter, i thought i was making it easier if we never had to say goodbye." alessia admitted quietly, both of you refusing to look at one another.

"never mind the fact i'm in love with you. i've been your best friend since we were five less, and you were going to just...get on a plane and leave me for four years without even telling me where you were going." you whispered, barely able to get your words out as red hot guilt flooded the blondes body.

"i was trying to make it easier."

"for who alessia? for you? by avoiding having to even tell me anything and just leaving me without a word? you're a fucking coward!" you almost screamed those last four words, chest heaving as you struggled to hold back a sob.

her silence told you everything you needed to as you broke down, your body convulsing as you sobbed into your hands, alessia covering her ears unable to handle the noise, tears rolling down her cheeks leaving a bitter salty taste in her mouth.

"get off me!" you spat out, shoving her off as she moved to sit down next to you, trying to wrap herself around you in a hug. "get off!" you yelled again, voice cracking as she shook her head, holding you firmly.

eventually she let go, collapsing into herself as you stood to your feet, vision blurry with tears as you stumbled around trying to collect your belongings.

"stop!" you sobbed as she hugged you from behind, yanking your bag out of your hands and dropping it on the floor. "don't leave me, please." she begged, voice no louder than a whisper as her face buried itself in your neck.

"i'm not the one leaving." you pushed her away, the force causing her to stumble as she caught herself and managed to stay standing. "you know now. we still have two weeks!" she tried, almost begging now as you scoffed.

"oh so i have two weeks to wait for you to break up with me? lucky me!" you spat venomously, trying to pick up your bag as alessia kicked it away. "we have two weeks we can spend together before i go. please! i made a mistake, a huge mistake. baby please i love you so much but-" her hands balled at your top, holding you against her.

"if you loved me you would have never lied to me about this. you would have told me the moment you even starting thinking about it! we could have talked it out! worked things out together! now i don't have a fucking choice and you don't understand how unfair that is alessia!" you pushed her harder and harder with every sentence until she smacked into the wall, blue eyes welled up with tears.

"baby please don't go! not like this!" she grabbed you again as you tried, wrapping her arms around you as you fought her furiously, hitting her over and over as her body shook with silent sobs but she refused to let go of you, feeling her tears drip down the back of your neck.

"i would have been okay if we were able to talk about this. if i had time to process this, to make plans with you, to talk about what it could have looked like for us and what we'd be when you were there. i would have supported you and this choice if you'd given me the chance." you finally broke free, stumbling away from her as you gestured between the two of you before furiously wiping at your eyes.

"but you didn't and you weren't going to. you're a liar and a coward and i can't believe i wasted so much of my life trying to show you i care for it all to mean nothing to you in the end. if you love me less, if you ever loved me, then you will do as you planned. you will get on that plane and you will stay out of my life. you're not my girlfriend, not even a friend would do what you just did to me." you wanted to say more, you wished you could find the words, you wished you could hit her again and scream that you hated her and mean every single word you just said to her.

but you didn't, you couldn't, you wished you could, it would have made it all easier.

you didn't allow her the luxury of a response, far too afraid of how easy it may have been for her to talk her way out of this, to lull you into a false sense of safety and security with sweet words and gentle intimate touches. to shower you with affection and quality time and praise, only to rip the rug right out from under you in just two weeks time.

so you left her before she could leave you, and you didn't turn once to look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part six

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo #woso blurbs #woso imagine #engwnt #woso

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 2 years

Text

Phone Fun

Pairing :: Tangerine x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, SMUT/NSFW, Phone sex, Masturbation(F&M)

Word Count :: 1310

Summary :: Tangerine’s been gone for a while and you each miss each other a lot

A/N :: I KNOW I’VE BEEN GONE FOR LIKE EVER BUT we should have all accepted by now this is the type of person I am. I am sorry. Please forgive me for my laziness.

It’s not funny like at all how quickly I became a slut for this man. I even bought the book Bullet Train so I could get more of him. I also might make a small/mini series for him bc I think it’s hilarious if he dated someone who had no clue he was an assassin.

Tangerine is a professional. He does his job by the book(at least to the best of his abilities, given his line of work), quick and easy. He isn't the type to make mistakes or take risks. With that being said, he does everything he can to keep his work life and private life completely separate, even if that means lying to the person he loves most.

You hadn’t the slightest clue as to who he actually was. Everything you knew about him was an intricately fabricated lie of a life he created for you to believe. For starters, he told you his name was Gordon, and Lemon’s was Thomas. Lemon was happy he used names from Thomas The Tank Engine but would’ve preferred they had gone by Donald and Douglas since they’re brothers. Then, he told you he and Lemon both worked for a private security service firm that worked high-profile jobs. With this lie, you never questioned when he traveled to foreign countries for various periods of time. However, this also led you to presume he worked somewhat normal hours.

On more than one occasion, you called Tangerine while he was in the middle of work, and being the worry-wort he was when it came to you, he immediately answered after scrambling to find a decently quiet place to talk to you. Luckily, the calls were never because anything had happened to you or you somehow magically learned about the double-life he led and now wished to cut all ties with the contract-killer. Typically it was because you simply missed him and walked to talk to him for a bit, making sure he was okay.

Lemon always thought a simple text would have sufficed rather than a call. When he told Tangerine to tell you so, he received a menacing glare in response. After that, he completely threw out the thought of convincing him to tell you the truth.

Today’s call was not normal though.

“God am I glad you called.” Tangerine sat down on his bed, glad Lemon was out grabbing food so he could have a private chat.

You were able to hear clearly through the phone his exhaustion. “Was it rough today?”

He let out a deep sigh, earning a small chuckle. “You have no idea love.”

“You’ll be home soon, right?”

“Yeah, in two days.”

“I miss you so much.”

He was gone for nearly a month, jobs booked back-to-back. Before this, the longest he had been away was barely under two weeks.

Tangerine was looking forward to engulfing you in a large hug and pressing his lips against you in a passionate kiss. You never admitted it, but you became quite needy whenever he was gone. He never had any complaints since the sex when he got when he came back was always amazing. He couldn’t wait to toss you onto the bed, though he doubted if you two would make it to your room before you started your fun.

“This is gonna sound silly but…” You were hesitating. He was sure you had that shy smile you always put on when you were embarrassed right now. “I’m only wearing one of your button-ups right now.”

Only. That word rang in his head like a bell. “Oh really?”

Even though you knew he was returning soon, you were still incredibly lonely. Without thinking you grabbed one of his shirts and immediately a small smile formed due to the familiar scent that lingered. He didn’t use harsh over-bearing cologne that had multiple ingredients mixed creating a headache of a smell. Rather, he used a simple citrus herbal mix. Hints of orange and lemon hid under a woodsy scent with a slight spice.

Then, a slightly devious plan formed in your head, leading you to this very moment.

“Mhm.” You bit your lip, trying not to smile even though he couldn’t see you.

“And what are you doing right now?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“I think you’re waiting in bed for me to come fuck you.” The sudden drop in tone shot a tingle down your spine, the warmth between your thighs growing.

“Ding-ding.”

“Have you started touching yourself?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted to tease you.”

A dark laugh left his lips. “You know I don’t enjoy being teased love.”

“Exactly.”

Whenever you made the reckless decision to tease him, he would often end up turning the tables and turned you into a moaning mess. Sometimes you did it on accident, other times it was on purpose because you loved how worked up he’d get.

You let out a soft hum, starting by massaging your breasts. “Don’t worry, I’ll go nice and slow so you know everything I’m doing.” You pinched your nipples, rolling them between your fingers.

You always knew how to turn him on. It was truly a gift you had. Hearing your small satisfied hums, he began to grow hard and found himself palming the bulge in his pants that was forming.

One of your hands traveled downwards to start rubbing your wet folds. “Hnng...” You imagined he was here with you, taking care of your needs. You rubbed a small circle around your clit, doing your best to enjoy the moment instead of speedily making yourself cum.

Hearing a small zip and fabric moving, you knew he was doing the same. He began stroking his length, remembering the tightness of your cunt.

You were growing wetter by the second, so when you moved your other hand down to insert a finger a soft sucking sound of the mess you were creating was now heard. This caused his dick to twitch, eager to be wrapped around you.

You stopped rubbing your clit momentarily to stick in a second finger and begin pumping, hoping the wet sounds would excite him. Precum began beading at the top of his cock so he used it to help lubricate his shaft. Going at a pace that matched yours, his grip was tight but paled in comparison to your cunt.

Both of you could hear the other’s desperation in your moans. You each wanted to touch one another so badly but had to suffice with the situation at hand.

Deciding you needed more friction, you pulled your fingers out and sat up.

“What are you doing now, love?”

Shamelessly you replied, “I’m going to ride your pillow darling.”

“Fuck.” His balls tightened.

As your hips began rocking back and forth on his pillow, he began to thrust up in the air, each of you pretending you were riding him now.

Growing closer, you started rubbing your clit again, your fingers moving much harsher than before. He was also getting ready to cum, so he quickly threw off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt so that way they wouldn’t get ruined.

Your paced hips grew sloppy and your panting much louder. His groaning was becoming deeper, pumping and thrusting as if he was fucking.

“Ahh!”

The heat building in your stomach was begging to be released. You stopped moving, straddling the pillow with your hand between your legs. Your hand moved quickly across your clit until the tingling sensation finally broke. Your entire body tensed up, continuing to press firmly against the sensitive nub while your pussy clenched to release.

With his own muscles tense, hearing your cry of pleasure his cock twitched again, finally ready to cum. His tight sack finally contracted, releasing hot shots of cum that landed right on his abdomen. He released his hold, his cock continuing to jump as his entire load came out.

The only thing that could be heard now were the small breaths you were each taking to compose yourselves.

“Well this was fun,” You said while flopping onto your back.

“Fun, but not as good as the real deal.”

“Two more days until then.”

#bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #bullet train tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #bullet train tangerine x reader

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belokhvostikova · 10 months

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it.

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed.

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today.

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation.

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out.

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I��ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced.

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock.

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already.

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?”

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work.

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.”

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked-

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers.

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight.

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far.

But that was all too easy.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves.

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night.

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity.

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body.

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished.

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you?

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.”

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches.

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?”

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers.

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot.

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.”

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.”

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle.

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence.

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered.

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised.

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything.

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times.

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked.

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed.

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger.

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal.

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged.

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain.

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability.

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.”

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face.

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring.

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached.

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear.

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible.

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored.

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion.

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself?

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words.

But you had never acted on impulsion.

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question.

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression.

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out.

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off.

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead.

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined.

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke.

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal.

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists.

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum.

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously.

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command.

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.”

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body.

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly. “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it.

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl.

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh.

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months.

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face.

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness.

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples.

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously.

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.”

Eddie Munson was a little weird.

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel.

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight.

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand.

“Ow, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you.

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum.

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine.

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose.

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need.

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him.

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit.

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency.

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!”

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion.

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded.

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny.

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick.

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting.

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.”

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years.

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny.

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs.

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans.

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you.

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart.

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled.

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

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literary-illuminati · 6 months

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Book Review 68 - Babel by R. F. Kuang

Overview

I came to Babel with extremely little knowledge about the actual contents of the book but a deep sense of all the vibes swirling around its reception – that it was robbed of a Hugo nomination (if the author didn’t outright refuse it), that it’s probably the single buzziest and most Important sf/f release of 2022, that it was stridently political, and plenty more besides. I also went in having mostly enjoyed The Poppy War series and being absolutely enamoured by the elevator pitch of an alternate history Industrial Revolution where translation is literally magic. And, well-

It is wrong to say I hated this book, but only because keeping track of my complaints and starting organize this review in my head was entertaining enough to keep me invested in the reading experience.

The story is set in an alternate 1830s, where the rise of the British Empire relies upon the dominance of its translators, as it is the mixture of translation and silverworking, the inscription of match-pairs in different languages on bars of worked silver and the leveraging of the ambiguity and loss of meaning between them that fuels the world’s magic. The protagonist is pluckted from his childhood home in Canton after his family dies in a cholera outbreak and whisked away to the estate of Professor Lowell, an Oxford translator he quickly realized is his unacknowledged father. He’s made to choose an English name (Robin Swift) and raised and tutored as a future translator in service to the Empire.

The meat of the story is focused on Robin’s education in Oxford, his relationship with the rest of his cohort, and his growing radicalization and entanglement with the revolutionary Hermes Society. Things come to a head when in his fourth year the cohort is sent back to Canton to, well, help provoke the first Opium War, though none of them aware of that. The final act follows the fallout of that, by which I mean it lives up to the full title of “Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution”.

To be clear, this was technically a very accomplished book. The writing never dragged and the prose was, if not exactly lyrical, always clear and often evocative. Despite the breadth of space and time the story covers, I never had any complaints about the pacing – and honestly, the ending was, dramatically speaking, one of the more natural and well-executed ones I’ve read recently. It’s very well-constructed.

All that being said – allow me to apologize for how the rest of this is mostly just going to be a litany of complaints. But the book clearly believes itself to be an important and meaningful work of political art, which means I don’t feel particularly bad about holding it to high standards.

Narrative Voice

To start with, just, dear god the tone. This is a book with absolutely zero faith in its audience’s ability to reach their own conclusions, or even follow the symbolism and implication it lays down. Every important point is stated outright, repeated, and all but bolded and underlined. In this book set in 1830s England there are footnotes fact-checking the imperialists talking heads to, I guess, make sure we don’t accidentally become convinced by their apologia for the slave trade? Everything is just relentlessly didactic, in a way that ended up feeling rather insulting even when I agreed with the points Kuang was making.

More than that, and this is perhaps a more subjective complaint but – for an ostensible period piece, the narrative voice and perspective just felt intensely modern? This was theoretically an omniscient third person book, with the narrative voice being pretty distinct from any of the actual characters – with the result that the implicit narrator was instead the sort of person of spends six hours a day getting into arguments on twitter and for this effort calls themselves a progressive activist. The identities of all the characters – as delivered by the objective narration – were all very neat and legible from the perspective of someone at a 2022 HR department listing how diverse their team was, which was somewhere between a tragic lost opportunity to show how messy and historical racial/ethnic/national identities are and outright anachronistic, depending. (This was honestly one of the bigger disappointments, coming from Kuang’s earlier work. Say what you will of The Poppy War series, the narration is with Rin all the way down, and it trusts the reader enough not to blink.) More than that it was just distracting – the narration ended up feeling like an annoying obstacle between me and the story, and not in any fun postmodern way either.

Characters

Speaking of the cast – they simply do not sound or feel like they actually grew up in the 19th century. Now, some modernization of speech patterns and vocabulary and moral commensense is just the price of doing business with mass market period pieces, granted, but still – no 19th century Anglo-Indian revolutionary is going use the phrase ‘Narco-military state’ (if for no other reason than we’re something like a century early for ‘narco-state’ to be coined as a term at all). An even beyond feeling out of time most of the characters feel kind of thinly sketched?

Or no, it’s not that the characters are thinly sketched so much as their relationships are. We’re repeatedly, insistently told that these four students are fast friends and closer than family and would happily die for each other, but we’re very rarely actually shown it. This is partly just a causality of trying to skim over a four-year university education in the middle third of one book, I think, but still – the good times and happy moments are almost always sort of skimmed over, summarized in the course of a paragraph or two that usually talk in terms of memories and consequences more than the relationships themselves. The points of friction and the arguments, meanwhile, are usually played out entirely on the page, or at least described in much more detail. In the end you kind of have to just take it as read that any of these people actually love each other, given that at least two of them seem to be feuding at any given point for the entire time they know each other.

Letty deserves some special attention. She’s the only white member of Robin’s cohort at Babel and she honestly feels like less of acharacter and more a collection of tropes about white women in progressive spaces? Even more than the rest, it’s hard to believe the rest of the class views her as beloved ride-or-die found family when essentially every time she’s on screen it’s so she can do a microagression or a white fragility or something. Also, just – you know how relatively common it is to see just, blatantly misogynistic memes repackaged as anti-racist because it specifies ‘white women’? There’s a line in this that almost literally says ‘Letty wasn’t doing anything to disprove the stereotype of woman as uselessly emotional and hysteric’.

Also, she’s the one who ends up betraying the other three and trying to turn them in when they turn revolutionary. Which is probably inevitable given the book’s politics, but as it happened felt like less of the shocking betrayal that it was supposed to be and more just, checking off a box for a dramatic reverse. Of course she turned on them, none of them ever really seemed to even like each other.

As a Period Piece

So, the book is set in the 1830s, in the midst of the industrial revolution and its social fallout, and the leadup to the First Opium War (which is, through the magic of, well, magic ,but also mercantilist economics, make into a synecdoche for British global dominion more broadly). On the one hand, the setting is impeccably researched, recent and relevant historical events are referenced whenever they would come up, and the footnotes are full to bursting with quotes and explanations of texts or cultural ephemera that’s brought up in the narration.

On the other, the setting doesn’t feel authentic in the slightest, the portrayal of the British Empire is bizarrely inconsistent, and all that richly researched historical grounding ends up feeling less like a living world and more like a particularly well-down set for a Doctor Who episode.

The story is incredibly focused around Oxford as a city and a university. There’s a whole author’s note about the research and slight changes made into its geography and I absolutely believe its portrayal as a physical location and the laws about how women were treated and how the different colleges were organized and all that is exactly as accurate as Kuang wanted them to be. The issue is really the people. With the exception of a few cartoonish villains who barely get more than a couple pages apiece, no one feels, sounds like, or acts like they actually belong in the 19th century. The racism the protagonists struggle with all feels much more 21st century than Victorian, and the frame of mind everyone inhabits still comes across more as ‘unusually blatantly racist Englishman’ than 19th century scholars and polymaths.

This is especially blatant as far as religion goes. It’s occasionally mentioned, sure enough, but to the extent anyone actually believes in Christianity it’s of a very modern and disenchanted sort – this is a society that sends out missionaries as a conscious tool of colonial expansion, not because of anything as silly or absurd as actually wanting to spread their gospel. Also like, it’s Oxford, in the nineteenth century. For all the racism the protagonists have to deal with, they should be getting so much more shit from ‘well-meaning’ locals and students trying to save their (one Muslim, one atheist, one probably Christian but black and protective of Haitian Vodou on a cultural level which would be more than enough) souls.

Or, and this is more minor, it is a central conceit of the whole finale that if a few (like, two) determined revolutionaries can infiltrate Babel they’ll be able to take the entire place hostage with barely any trouble. This is because the students and professors there are, basically, whimpy bookworms who’ll faint at the sight of blood and have no stomach for the sort of violence their work actually supports and drives. Which – look, I really don’t want to defend the ruling class of Victorian Britain here, but I’m not sure physical cowardice is really one of their failings, as a group? I mean, there’s an entire system of institutionalized child abuse in the boarding schools they went to to get them used to taking and dealing out violence and abuse. Basically every upper-class sport is thinly disguised military drill or ritual combat (okay, or rowing). Half of them would graduate to immediately running off and invading places for the glory of the queen. I’m not sure two sleep-deprived nerds with knives would actually have been able to cow the crowd here, is what I’m saying. (This would stick out less if the text wasn’t so dripping with contempt for them on precisely these grounds.)

Much less minor are our heroic revolutionaries themselves. And okay, this is more a matter of taste than anything but like – the Hermes Society is an illegal conspiracy of renegade current and former Babel scholars dedicated to using their knowledge of magic and access to university resources to oppose and undermine the British Empire in general and the work of the school in particular. Think Metternich’s worse nightmare, but in Oxford instead of Paris and focused on colonial liberation (continental Europe barely exists for the purposes of the book, Britain is Empire.) So! A secret society of professional revolutionaries in the heydey of just that, with a name that just has to be Hermetic symbolism, who concern themselves with both high politics and metaphysics.

They are just so very, very boring. This is the age of the Conspiracy of the Equals, the Carbonari, the Seasons! The literal Illumanti are still within living memory! Where’s the pageantry, the ritual, the grandiosity? The elaborate initiation rituals and oaths of undying loyalty? They’re so pragmatic, so humble, so (and I know I keep coming back to this) modern. It’s just such an utter wasted opportunity. Even beyond the level of aesthetics, these are revolutionaries with remarkably little positive ideology – the oppose colonialism and racism for reasons they take as self-evident and so don’t feel the need to theorize about it (and talk about them with the vocabulary of a modern activist, because of course they do), but they’re pretty much consciously agnostic as to what world should look like instead. They vaguely end up supporting a sort of petty-bourgeois socialism (in the Marxist sense), but the alliance with Luddites is essentially political convenience – they really don’t seem to have any vision of the future at all, either in England or the various places they claim as homelands.

On Empire and Industrialization

The story is set during the early nineteenth century, so of course the Industrial Revolution is a pretty core part of the background. The Silver Industrial Revolution, technically, since the Babellers translation magic is in this world a key and load-bearing part of it. Despite the addition of miracle-working enhancers and supports to its fundamental technology, the industrial revolution plays out pretty identically to history – right down to the same cities becoming hubs of industry, despite steam engines using enchanted silver instead of coal and thus, presumably, the entire economic and logistical system that brought this particular cities to prominence being totally unrecognizable. This is not a book that’s in any way actually about tracing how something would change history – which isn’t a complaint, to be clear, that’s a perfectly valid creative choice.

It does, however, make it rather galling that the single actually significant difference to history is that the introduction of magic turns the industrial revolution into a Legend of Zelda boss with a giant glowing weak point you can hit to destroy the whole enterprise.

On a narrative level, I get it – it simplifies things and allows for a far happier and more dramatic ending if destroying Babel is not just a symbolic act but also literally sends London Bridge falling down and scuttles the entire royal navy and every mill and factory in Britain. It’s just that I think that by doing so it trades away any chance for actually making interesting commentary on anti-colonial and -capitalist resistance. A world where a single act of spectacular terrorism really can destroy a modern empire is frankly so detached from our world that it ceases to be able to really materially comment upon it.

Like, the principle reason to not take the Luddites as your role models is not that they were morally vicious but that they were doomed – capitalism’s ability to repair damage to infrastructure and fixed goods is legitimately very impressive! Trying to force an entire ruling class not to adopt a technology that makes whoever commits to it tremendous amounts of money (thus, power) is a herculean task even when you have a state apparatus and standing army – adding an ‘off’ button to the lot of it just trades all sense of relevance for a satisfyingly cathartic ending.

(This is leaving untouched how the book just takes it as a given that the industrial revolution was a strictly immiserating force that did nothing but redistribute money from artisans to capitalists. Which certainly tracks as something people at the time would have thought but given how resolutely modern all the other politics in the work are rings really weirdly.)

All of which is only my second biggest issue with how the book presents its successful resistance movement. It all pales in comparison to making the Empire a squeamish paper tiger.

Like, the book hates colonialism in general and the British Empire in particular, the narrative and footnotes are filled with little asides about various atrocities and injustices and just ways it was racist or complicit in some particular atrocity. But more than that it is contemptuous of it, it views the empire as (as the cliche goes) a perpetually rotting edifice that just needs one good kick; that it persists only through the myth of its own invincibility, and has no stomach for violent resistance from within. Which is absolutely absurd, and the book does seem to know it on occasion when it off-handedly mentions e.g. the Peterloo Massacre – but a character whose supposed to be the grizzled cynical pragmatic revolutionary still spouts off about how slave rebellions succeed because their masters aren’t willing to massacre their own property. Which is just so spectacularly wrong on every axis its actually almost offensive.

More importantly, the entire final act of the story relies upon the fact that the British Empire would allow a handful of foreign students seize control of a vital piece of infrastructure for weeks on end and do nothing but try to wait them out as the national physically falls apart around them. Like, c’mon, there would be siege artillery set up and taking shots by the end of week two. As with the Oxford students, the Victorian elite had all manner of flaws – take your pick, really – but squeamishness wasn’t really one of them.

On Magic

So the magical system underlying the whole story is – you know how Machinaries of Empire makes imperial ideology and metaphysics literally magical, giving expert technicians the ability to create superweapons and destroy worlds provided that the Hexarchate’s subjects observe the imperial calendar of rites and celebrate its triumphs/participate in rituals glorying in the torture of its ‘heretics’? It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, but it works.

Babel does something similar, except the foundational atrocity fueling the engine of empire on a metaphysical level is, like, cultural appropriation. As an organizing metaphor, I find this less compelling.

Leaving that aside, the story makes translation literally capable of miracle-working – which of necessity requires making ‘languages’ distinct natural categories with observable metaphysical boundaries. It then sets the story in the 19th century – the era of newborn nation states and education systems and national literatures, where the concept of the national-linguistic community was the obsession of the entire European intelligentsia. Now this is not a book concerned with how the presence of magic would actually have changed history, in the slightest, but like – given how fascinated it is by translation and linguistics you’d think the whole ‘a language is a dialect with a navy’ cliché would at least get a light mention (but then the book doesn’t really treat language as any more inherent or natural than it does any other modern identity category, I suppose.)

As an Allegory

Okay, so having now spent an embarrassing number of words establishing to my own satisfaction that the book really doesn’t work at all as a period piece, let us consider; what if it wasn’t trying to be?

A great many things about the book just fit much better if you take it as a commentary on the modern university with Victorian window-dressing. Certainly the driving resentment of Oxford as an institution that sustains itself and grows rich off the exploitation of international students it considers second-class seems far more apt applied to contemporary elite western schools than 19th century ones. Likewise the racism the heroes face all seems like the kind you’d expect in a modern English town rather than a Victorian one. I’m not well-versed enough on the economics of the city to know for sure, but I would wager that the gleeful characterization of Oxford as a city that literally starts falling to ruin without the university to support it was also less accurate in the 1830s than it is today.

Read like this, everything coheres much better – but the most striking thing becomes the incredible vanity of the book. This is a morality tale where the natural revolutionary vanguard with the power to bring global hegemony to its knees through nothing but witholding their labour are..students at elite western universities (not, I must say, a class I’d consider in dire need of having their egos boosted). The emotions underlying everything make much more sense, but the plot itself becomes positively myopic.

Beyond that – if this is a story about international students at elite universities, it does a terrible job of actually portraying them. Or, properly, it only shows a certain type; just about every foreign-born student or professor we meet is some level of revolutionary, deeply opposed in principle to the empire they work within. No one is actually convinced by the carrot of a life as an exploited but exceedingly comfortable and well-compensated technician in the imperial core, and there’s not really acknowledgement at all of just how much of the apparatus of international institutions and governments in the global south – including positions with quite a bit of real power – end up being staffed by exactly that demographic who just sincerely agree with the various ideological projects employing them. Kuang makes it far too easy on herself by making just about every person of colour in the books one of the good guys, and totally undersells how convincing hegemonic ideology can be, basically.

The Necessity of Violence

This is a pet peeve and it’s a very minor thing that I really wouldn’t bring it up if that wasn’t literally part of the title. But it is, so – it’s a plot point that’s given a decent amount of attention that Griffin (Robin’s secret older brother, grizzled professional revolutionary, his introduction to anti-colonialism) is blamed for murdering one of his classmates who had the bad luck to be studying while he was sneaking in to steal some silver – a student that was quite well-loved by the faculty and her very successful classmates, who have never forgiven him. Later on, it’s revealed that this is an utter rewriting of history, and she’d been a double agent pretending to let herself be recruited into the Hermes Society who’d been luring Griffin into an ambush when he killed her and escaped.

This is – well, the most predictable not-even-a-twist imaginable, for one, but also – just rank cowardice. You titled the book ‘the necessity of violence’, the least you can do is actually own it and show that violent resistance means people (with faces, and names, not just abstractions only ever talked about in general terms) who are essentially personally innocent are going to end up collateral damage, and people are going to hold grudges about it. Have some courage in your convictions!

Translation

Okay, all of that said, this isn’t a book that’s wholly bad, or anything. In particular, you can really tell how much of a passion Kuang has for the art and science of translation. The depth of knowledge and eagerness to share just about overflows from the page whenever the book finds an excuse to talk about it at length, and it’s really very endearing. The philosophizing about translation was also as a rule much more interesting and nuanced then whenever the book tried to opine about high politics or revolutionary tactics.

Anyways, I really can’t recommend the book in any real way, but it did stick in my head for long enough that I’ve now written 4,000 words about it. So at the very least it’s the interesting sort of bad book, y’know?

#book review #babel #r. f. kuang #sff #lesbian space atrocities #-ish #hatermode

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