𝖠 𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖳𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾
Summary: Eddie had finally had enough of your bratty streak. He waited until the speakeasy emptied out, the last traces of music and chatter fading into the night, before making his move. He expected a heated confrontation—sharp words, maybe a clash of wills. What he didn’t expect was to find you already sprawled out, waiting for him as if you’d known this moment was coming all along.
w/c: 575
Warnings: smut with plot, oral (male receiving), reader being a brat, BratTamer!Eddie, hair pulling, and degrading / praising.
a/n: Enjoy my little Eddie enjoyers
You had been insufferable all day, giving Eddie the cold shoulder while showering Volt with affection, dancing with him, and leaving him to navigate the aftermath of your whims. Finally, Eddie had reached his breaking point.
It was not in his nature to let things slide; he was determined to ensure you faced the consequences of your behavior. He observed you flitting about, engaging with the patrons, flirting unabashedly with Volt, and, of course, serving Eddie yet more of that familiar attitude. You had even teased him with fleeting glimpses of your allure throughout the night, stirring a tempest within him. Oh, how he relished the thought of imparting a lesson.
Thus, he ascended the stairs, preparing himself for a confrontation that promised to be intense. His thoughts raced as he approached your door, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind. When he finally opened it, he was struck motionless. There you lay, draped on your side in a delicate black nightgown, your gaze languid and inviting.
"Were you waiting for me?" he managed to murmur, rooted in place.
"Yes," you replied, a brief pause punctuating your words, "I was."
For a moment, Eddie's mind faltered, the purpose of his visit momentarily forgotten as he took in the sight of you, so enticing in that nightgown. His body seemed to move of its own accord.
"I'm done with your bratty antics this week, so here it comes," he sighed, stepping forward and pulling you from the bed, guiding you unsteadily to your feet. For a heartbeat, a flicker of fear crossed your face, as if he would be truly harsh, but instead, he knelt you before him, a pillow cushioning your knees. With one hand, he gathered your hair into a ponytail, while the other began to unbuckle his pants.
As he pushed them down, he revealed himself, hard and eager, veins pronounced against his skin. He drew you closer, his tip brushing your lips as you looked up at him, your gaze a mix of defiance and submission. Despite the blush creeping across his cheeks from the vulnerable position, he attempted to maintain an air of authority as you pressed your lips against him. A shudder raced through him, yet he held firm, guiding your head as he sank deeper into your mouth.
He pulled your hair to direct your movements, thrusting into you as you accommodated him. "This is what brats deserve," he cursed under his breath, a symphony of groans escaping him. Lost in the moment, Eddie barely noticed when he quickened his pace, the rhythm becoming frantic, almost choking you. All you could manage were muffled sounds, a few whimpers slipping through as you struggled to keep pace.
"It's alright, pretty girl, you're doing wonderfully," he murmured, his voice a low whisper of encouragement.
His movements grew increasingly erratic, a telltale sign of his impending climax, as his groans crescendoed in volume. Yet, he maintained his relentless rhythm, dominating your throat as if it were his rightful possession. You grasped his thighs, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself amidst the fervor.
At last, he cast his gaze upon you, and in that electrifying moment, you felt the warmth of him releasing in thick, molten waves within your mouth, striking the back of your throat while he observed with a sense of satisfaction.
"This," he declared, withdrawing from your lips with a gratifying pop, "is how Brats are brought to heel."
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