can't stop thinking about starlight from the boys and her eyes glowing when she orgasms, so…hehe.
tags: pwp, KINKY!!, readers eyes glow when she cums, mutant!reader, p-in-v, post-coital conversations, teasing, sexual tension, pussy whipped!clark (1.1k wc)
—
you could count the amount of times you'd orgasmed in your entire life on a single hand.
it wasn't that every man you met was devastatingly bad, there were good times. but it was a much bigger, brighter problem when you could cum. you'd gotten tired of explaining they why of the light-show that came when…you came. so you'd decided, the next person you fucked, would be someone entirely capable of handling you in the oddities of your quirk.
that man…happened to be none other than clark kent.
you'd met him in the justice league, hit it off instantly. mainly because you really adored how fascinated he got whenever you'd use your powers in his presence. so he should've been fine if you beamed as you orgasmed.
…that's what you told yourself anyway. the theory was yet to be tested.
when you forewarned him, he was more embarrassed than weirded out. "the idea that i could even get a gorgeous girl like you to…you know…it's not weird at all. it'll be rewarding. c'mon…don't be silly."
despite his casual deference to your forewarning, his ears were red, all the way down to your neck. so you figured, what's the worst that could happen.
the words tumble out of you breathless, hasty & jumbled. too overwhelmed to even form coherent sentences with how much clark's cock was stretching you out. fucking you so hard and deep.
your body arches right into him. hot, sweaty chest, soft and pressed up against his own. clark's muscle tenses, his hip thrusting relentlessly into your squelching cunt. the sharp burn you once felt had manifested into something so dangerous and potent — the aching pleasure of your belly burning wildly and intensely.
clark's arm curls around your hips, his forearms flexing, holding you securely in place as he drives up into you. he'd barely begun fucking you and he already knew you were going to cum, with your pussy fluttering so warm and tight around him. the combined sweat makes your skin slick where you're pressed together.
he thinks he might've imagined it when he sees a flicker of an amber glow casting form your eyes. it pulses in your pupils, threatening to take over. clark keeps at his pace — the room then lights up, in the direction your head was tilted.
his eyes widens. an awed gasp caught in his throat as the amber coats your irises, illuminating his face for a brief second before you tip your head. column of your through visible as you come hard, coating the space in an otherworldly glow.
"jesus…look at you."
the glow pulses from within your skin. forcing clark to slow in the presence of the eerie hue. he stares, completely captivated. it quickly churns in him — a quiet, heady want that fills him. before you even begin to feel judged beneath his scrutiny, his hand comes to cradle your cheeks, thumbing gently at your cheekbone.
you lean into his touch, shy. "i-is it weird?" his gaze only makes you pulse around him harder.
clark lets out a low, shuddered groan at the flutter, hips jerking up into you.
"g-gosh no. not weird. it's…you."
his thrusts resume much slower, careful not to overwhelm you after your orgasm. but he's mesmerised, by the gentle flow that fades from your eyes. grinding slow and deep into you.
"you're so…so beautiful."
you feel his palm slide to the back of your head, flexing his fingers in locks of your hair. "m-mhn. you're…not just saying that to be nice?" you punctuate your words with a circle of your hips, matching the pace of his thrusts.
clark visibly winces, grunting low as he feels the familiar tightness in his balls. "you're…unbelievable." his gaze remains on you, sheepish, but truthful, "it is…so…incredibly hot," he croaks, his own head looks to the side. focussed on driving his cock into you velvet, tight pussy. "you're glowin'…cause of me."
you don't think you have another orgasm left in you. but you're as determined to get him to feel the same pleasure you did. a low growl rumbles in your throat as you squeeze harder around him.
"h-holy—…ugh!"
a broken whimper leaves his throat as soon as you relax around his length and his belly tightens, convulsing beneath you as he pants your name over and over. arm tightly locked around your hips as he empties himself deep inside you in helpless, desperate thrust.
you whine at the abrupt change in position, where clark pulls you down next to him, breathing heavily in the wake of his own orgasm.
clark's turns to you with a deep, content sigh, his hand coming up to brush the damp hairs stuck to your temple to the side. "wasn't such bad thing…" he murmurs, thumbing by your cheekbones.
"you're so weird…"
he lifts his head in mock offense, "how does that make me weird?"
"me beaming like a lighthouse is weird. liking it makes you weird. " you mumble with an embarrassed laugh, burying your face in his chest.
"it's not weird," he tuts, draping your trembling thighs over his hips, "first time i….came….i laser beamed my bedroom in the barn."
you snort. nudging your jaw on his chest.
"you're fucking with me."
"m'not," clark raises his palm, folding his fingers. "scout's honour."
"…you really think it's hot?" you lazily rest your cheeks on the sweaty, tuft of hair on his chest."
"are you kidding? i came harder than i have in years just watching you get like that…"
"you're just saying that." you cut in, hasty and in disbelief. "what's so hot about it?"
"gosh it's…" clark sighs, head slumping back, a lop-sided grin on his cheeks. "letting go for me like that, your entire body reacting so…beautifully. it's…it's like heaven —"
"jesus. you're so poetic for no reason. say it dirtier." you murmur. running your knuckles down the deep indents of his cheeks.
clark lifts his head enough to size you with a pouty look, but then he slumps. pondering on your words. you don't think he was actually going to follow through until you feel his voice drop an octave lower, gaze intently on yours.
"watchin' you…come apart on my cock is one thing. but seeing your eyes just…glow. like some kind of…extra-terrestrial adult film…star. i don't think a guy can ask for more. i thought i would explode. like i was gonna laser beam at my release like it was my first damn time."
you lift your head, almost in awe at his use of words, a soft, appraising growl leaving your throat.
A/N: Based on "The Little Mermaid". Ty to @cinnxmxngxrl for the suggestion!
Warning: sorcery, mention of blood, body horror, language, unhappily ever after
Divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
There once was a curious little mermaid who longed to explore the world above the dark ocean floor. However, as the youngest of six, her father, the sea king, fiercely protected her. Whenever she asked to visit the surface, as her sisters had been allowed, he repeated the same objection. The human world was a dangerous place, ill suited for someone as innocent as she.
His insistence only made her more eager to learn the secrets of this fascinating world. Suddenly her sisters' tales of the golden light just beyond the kelp forest weren't enough to sustain her dreaming. She needed to see for herself and begged relentlessly until her father finally conceded.
Though conflicted about granting her wish, he hoped the journey would quench her thirst for knowledge. He comforted himself with the reminder that his older daughters had all obediently returned, vowing never to leave the underwater kingdom again. And so he convinced himself his youngest child would do the same.
On the appointed day, her father recited the rules that had protected his other children during their visits. "You may observe their world from the jagged rocks, but do not venture further. The shallow tidal pools will trap you as surely as the fishermen's hooks and nets," he began before segwaying to the general wickedness of humans.
As her father droned on about how they must be avoided at all cost, the impatient little mermaid swam back and forth. The anxious swish of her tail swirling sediment all around her.
Stamping his trident upon the sea floor, the king shot his daughter a stern look that instantly stilled her fins. "Have you been listening?" he demanded, holding her gaze with fierce determination.
"Of course, father, every word," she answered sweetly, green eyes sparkling back at him like bright gemstones.
It was this disarming look that always created a sentimental old fool of him. He would never have admitted it aloud, but his youngest daughter was his favorite and letting her go was even more difficult than he imagined.
Noticing a tear at the corner of her father's eye, she swam forward to embrace him. And with a loving peck to his cheek, thanked him for his blessing. "You're the best father anyone could ask for!" she whispered in his ear.
He only chuckled in reply as she darted away in girlish enthusiasm for adventure. And he smiled softly to himself as she disappeared from his sight, silently willing her to return unharmed.
For many weeks afterward, the sea king was blissfully ignorant of the infatuation born on that fateful day. He had not yet realized his daughter was stealing away to the surface daily for a glimpse of the handsome, bearded man she'd seen upon her first encounter into the human world.
With dark coat and heavy stride he came to the beach every evening before sunset to walk his dog and she listened intently as his deep voice rumbled forth to compete with the crashing waves. As he called to the animal, she wished it was her name upon his lips and despaired a little with each disappointing cry of, "Cryil!"
So infatuated was the little mermaid that in time, she could place him by his broad shouldered silhouette upon the sand as he took his nightly stroll. And in the fading light of the setting sun, she could almost picture herself beside him, his strong arm around her shoulder. He would regale her with amusing tales and their laughter would echo down into the depths of the sea. Only then would her father see how wrong he'd been about humans.
This fantasy is what compelled her to sneak away so often, desperate for even the slightest glimpse of the mysterious man she dreamed of making her own. He seemed lost and lonely in his world just as she did in hers. Perhaps together they could find happiness, she mused.
However, one day she saw that her love was not alone on the beach. While Cyril ran ahead to retrieve a stick from the water's edge, another man appeared at his side. He was much shorter in stature, a peaked cap pulled low over his eyes. They seemed to chat like brothers or old friends for some time and it was during this exchange she learned the name of her beloved, Alfie.
She said it over and over again to herself, a slight giggle on her lips as she repeated the odd sounding moniker. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed the weapons raised between them until shots rang out in deafening succession. She stifled a scream behind her hands as Alfie was struck down, falling to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Disregarding her father's rules for the first time, she swam toward Alfie with speed she hadn't realized she was capable of. The instinct to go to him in his time of need overtook her and suddenly she forgot any danger lurking ashore.
Finding Alfie alone on the beach once more, she pulled herself from the safety of the water, landing next to him on the scorching sand. Far too concerned with his shattered cheekbone and ragged breathing to care anything for her own comfort. She endured the blistering heat at her back as she knelt over him, whispering his name like a prayer.
Pressing her palm to his unblemished cheek, her fingertips wandered the slope of his jaw. Lightly carding his dark beard, she cooed at the hint of ginger beneath, fascinated by the detail she'd never seen from the distant rocks. The feeling of his flesh beneath her hand was intoxicating, even more so when she was rewarded with a few short grunts.
Brimming with hope for his survival, she began to hum a gentle lullaby and her voice rose steadily when she noticed his eyelids flutter. She couldn't be sure he heard her, but she comforted him nonetheless until a chorus of voices sounded in the distance. Scrambling back to the water, she hid herself in a cresting wave just as the first rescuer approached.
I don't want this to be the last time, she thought, allowing herself one backward glance. Alfie was already being carried away from her, perhaps never to return. The notion was far too painful to dwell on when it first entered her mind. However, as weeks turned to months, the little mermaid grew despondent over the love affair that would never be.
The painful longing unbearable, she eventually called upon the only one who could offer solutions to the troubled. Though the little mermaid knew the venture was ill advised, she couldn't stop herself from seeking out the sea witch.
Terrified, but determined, the little mermaid swam through the inky abyss until she arrived at a castle made of ivory bone. Like a beacon in the darkness, it promised salvation inside. But first, she would have to cross a graveyard of polyps said to contain the souls of the sea witch's victims. It took all her courage to race past their spindly grasp, blocking her ears to shut out the low moaning, but somehow she came to the other side.
Body trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through her, she raised a fist to knock. The rattling echo reverberated through her even as the door swung open to reveal a shriveled old hag and she froze in abject fear.
"What is it you seek, my child?" the sorceress asked, her pet water snakes encircling the girl to prevent escape.
With more than a slight tremor to her voice, the little mermaid confided her secret, hoping the witch could offer some remedy to the deep longing in her heart.
"I want...human legs," the girl answered with a harsh gulp.
"That is a bold request," the sea witch croaked as she drew the little mermaid further into her lair.
"I can pay, I have gold," the girl offered, producing a sack of heavy coins.
However, the sea witch only laughed at the child. "It will take far more than that," she cackled. "For what you desire is not legs, but a human soul."
The little mermaid ceased all movement, feeling herself sink into the murky depths as she realized what she was truly asking. However, she was a tenacious thing, ready to pay whatever price the sea witch demanded if she could deliver what was promised. Bright green eyes flicking to the hag's craggy face, she ventured, "Can you help me?"
The sea witch took her time as though pondering the question for the first time. The eery silence hung between them like the bloated polyps outside her door which now began to weep softly in protest. The sea witch swiftly drew the mermaid's attention back with another sharp cackle. "So eager, are we?"
"I'll do anything," the little mermaid replied with such earnestness, the sorceress snorted at the girl's naïveté.
Beckoning her pets to bring her a small bottle, the sea witch snatched it up and held the colored glass to the light. It shimmered beneath the undulating waters, casting a glow over the little mermaid which left her in silent awe.
"To win your human love, you must become one yourself, that much is true. Drink this and you will be altered as you have wished," she explained.
Utterly entranced, the impetuous young mermaid blurted, "Legs? Oh, thank you!" Her nimble fingers shot out for the bottle just as the sea witch held it out of reach.
"But I warn you that every step you take will be more excruciating than the last as a reminder of what you've left behind," she explained. "And in return for this agony, you must still make payment to me."
"Yes, of course. What is it you want?" the little mermaid asked breathlessly, seeming to discount the dire warning of imminent suffering.
"Your voice," the hag answered nonchalantly, shrugging as though it were merely a trifle.
The little mermaid stopped to think for the first time since her arrival. Without her voice, how would Alfie recognize her as the one who had saved him? She would never be able to tell him of the times she watched him from the jagged rocks or how she came to sing softly to him on the beach that day.
As she weighed the decision, the sea witch twirled the vial in her shriveled tentacle and the enchanting light found its way to the mermaid's gaze once again. All doubts now silenced by the promise of her reunion with Alfie, the little mermaid agreed.
The glint of a steel blade and the sea witch's cackle was the last thing the little mermaid remembered before waking on the shore. She blinked against the brightness of the sun overhead, barely registering the blood tinged water or the dull ache in her mouth.
In fact, all was forgotten as the waves receded to reveal legs in place of a tail fin. Heart thundering in anticipation, she pushed herself up from the surf and gasped in horror. It was exactly as the sea witch had foretold, an excruciating pain shooting from the tips of her toes to her hip.
It took the better part of the afternoon to make her way inland, sometimes crawling upon the deserted beach to find shelter. When her resolve weakened, she would pray for Alfie to appear and rescue her before she surely perished.
Sometime later, as the clouds closed in overhead, she heard a familiar voice cry out, "Cyril!" For a moment she wondered if her delirious mind was hearing phantom voices on the wind, but then she saw a pair of boots trodding toward her with an unmistakable gait.
As Alfie approached, he couldn't help but take notice of her nakedness. Tilting his head to study her like some specimen under glass, he asked, "And who might you be, treacle?"
Forgetting the price she paid to the sea witch, the girl tried to tell him her name. However, there was nothing to show for the effort, except a thick trickle of blood running from the corners of her mouth. She swiped at it desperately, but the attempt only left a garish, crimson streak across her cheek. Wincing in pain and embarrassment, she tilted her chin up at him meekly.
"Got yourself a Glasgow smile," he remarked, as he came to stand over her. "Go on, tell us your story, little bird," he prodded, draping his coat over her.
The offer was met with silence and Alfie began to wonder if she understood English. He tried Italian and French next, even Yiddish, but she only stared back at him numbly. He had not yet considered his shocking appearance.
With his hulking form blocking out the light, she had an unobstructed view of the damaged side of his face. She inhaled sharply at the web of scars that criss crossed his cheek, pointing toward a milky white pupil which contrasted sharply with the hawklike focus of his good eye.
Noticing the way her eyes widened, Alfie finally understood. Stroking a ringed hand down his face, he explained, "Battle scars, innit? Don't let it give you the willies."
Eased by his remark, she found him no less attractive to her and she no less wanting of his affection. She extended a hand from beneath the thick wool of his coat, eager to feel his touch.
Pleased to see they were getting somewhere, Alfie's large hands closed over her delicate fingers to bring her to her feet. Briefly locking eyes with the girl, his brow furrowed at the striking shade of green. He'd seen them somewhere before. A whisper of a tune floated inside his head, but there was no time to reflect on it. The girl instantly crumpled beneath him and he rushed to catch her in his arms.
Blood smeared mouth opening in a guttural scream of pain, the girl inadvertently revealed why she didn't talk. Someone had cut out her tongue. "Ah, the little bird can't sing," he muttered to himself as a tear rolled down her cheek in sorrowful acknowledgement.
Alfie shook his head slowly, thoughts of which gang might be responsible. He knew several that silenced rats by taking their tongues, but he'd never seen it happen to a woman. He took a moment to decide if she was worth the trouble if it came to that.
A single glance at her angelic face, contorted in pain, erased all doubt that he should take pity on her. He scooped her up and carried her to his seaside hideaway, Lethe. There could be no safer place for her as everyone thought him dead. And who would come knocking on a dead man’s door?
Alfie's hunch had been correct. No one came looking for the girl in over a month. It was around this time, he began to breathe a sigh of relief that her pursuers had vanished and so the walls he'd put up to protect himself came crumbling down.
He invited his little bird, as he'd taken to calling her, to his study in the evenings to listen to opera recordings on his gramophone. In addition, Alfie provided translation, along with long winded explanations of the plot. If the girl objected, she didn't let on. Her brilliant eyes shone with interest, hanging on every word.
On the occasions his sciatic nerve allowed it, Alfie even danced with the beautiful girl who proved to be the most exquisite dancer he'd ever encountered. The abnormally long baths she required as part of her therapy were doing her good, he thought.
He did not see the price she paid at the end of those evenings, shoes soaked in blood. She'd learned to live with the terrible curse of her swollen and sore feet, hiding her pain in hopes of glimpsing a rare smile from Alfie.
On one such evening, just as Alfie chose the Turandot by Giacomo Puccini, they were interrupted by the housekeeper, Elsa.
"It's Mr. Shelby, sir," the older woman rasped, unaccustomed to announcing visitors.
Hand hovering over the needle, Alfie blinked slowly as he uttered, "Tommy?" It was less of a question and more of a remembrance of something dug from the depths of him, a tumor cut out long ago and promised never to return.
"What the fuck does he want?" Alfie grumbled with obvious agitation.
"He didn't say, sir. He only told me to tell you a storm is coming."
Alfie's face looked as though he'd smelled something putrid, Elsa more confused than ever.
"There's no chance of a storm tonight. The sunset was a lovely shade. And you know the old adage, red sky at night, sailor's delight, so I don't see how..." she began before Alfie silenced her with a fearful roar.
"Shut your bloody mouth, woman!" he growled, tossing a crystal ashtray against the wall for emphasis.
Elsa shrieked as she ducked the flying object. With trembling voice she asked, "What shall I tell him?"
Alfie ran a hand down his beard to collect himself. Exhaling a heavy sight, he conceded, "Tell him he has five minutes."
Elsa furrowed her brow. "Are you certain, sir?"
"Think I have a bloody choice do ya?"
Moments later Tommy Shelby, king of Birmingham, was before them. The girl knew nothing of his position in their world, but instantly recognized him as the man who shot Alfie. The memory of that day revisited her, causing her entire body to quiver in fear. She shrunk from both men, confining herself to the shadows of the sitting room.
The men continued their business, Tommy pressuring Alfie to provide soldiers to his cause by threatening to reveal Alfie's whereabouts. However, Alfie was a man who valued negotiation so he increased the fee with each mention of Tommy's betrayal.
"Think I deserve some sort of compensation for you cocking up my execution," he spat. "I asked you to kill me, not rearrange my fucking face."
The girl stifled a gasp at his confession, unable to believe that Alfie once wanted to end his life. Though Alfie was careful not to give her away, Tommy's keen eye spotted her bright eyes shining in the corner.
"Who is your lovely, young companion, Alfie?" he asked, the smoke from his cigarette briefly obscuring his piercing gaze.
"You want to steal her away, Tommy?" Alfie challenged. "You're gettin too old for chasing skirts," he added with a sniff.
Tommy shook his head with a humorless chuckle. "No, I just thought you'd like to know what she is." He stopped to brush the dust off his coat with a dramatic flourish. "That girl...well, not a girl, are you, sweetheart?" he smirked at her, gold tooth winking in the dim light. "She is the reason for your blindness and the cancer that eats your insides. It's why you aren't resting in your grave at this very moment."
Alfie gritted his teeth at Tommy's obvious provocation, "What are you talking about, mate?"
Lacking an ashtray, Tommy extinguished his cigarette beneath the heel of his expensive leather shoes, sighing deeply. "Why are you asking me, eh? Why don't you have a chat with your girl," he smiled smugly before leaving them in stunned silence.
The air was charged with electricity, suspicion lingering in the room. It was only amplified by the static of the skipping record which had come to an end.
Alfie quietly stood to remedy the problem, raising the needle from the record and bathing the room in silence once more. He paced quietly for a time, making the girl believe he'd forgotten the accusation leveraged against her. That is, until his temper reached a boiling point.
Then he raged, throwing things and cursing with such ferocity, she began to shake. When he descended upon her, she wasn't prepared for the onslaught of his fury. "Is it true?" he demanded, watching her face carefully.
When her emerald eyes shone back at him with glistening tears, it only seemed to enrage him more. "Don't!" he warned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't play innocent now that you're caught! Who are you?" he demanded.
Her limitations holding her back from answering, Alfie shook her shoulders violently as he shouted, "Was it you that day on the beach? I knew I recognized those green eyes! Don't fucking lie to me, girl!"
Choking back a sob, she nodded, eyes pleading for mercy for she had only ever wanted him to love her.
With pure disgust, Alfie tossed her aside like a rag doll. Now the object of his loathing, she became an unwanted thing he could no longer look upon.
She could bear his bad moods and the cursing, but not this. Not his hatred. Hanging her head in shame, she cried into her skirts.
"Do you know what you've done?" Alfie demanded, slamming his fist upon a nearby table and nearly shattering it. "My life is nothing but pain and misery. Can't you see that, you pathetic little wretch? I wanted to die by the sword like a man and you took that from me!" he bellowed loudly enough to make the paintings rattle.
The girl only sobbed harder as she fled the room, uncertain of where she should go.
As it turned out, there was no place for her other than Margate. She'd only known Alfie's kindness and without it, she feared she would starve. So she tried to coexist with him for a time, if only to see if forgiveness was possible.
It would not be the case. Something inside him rotted that day, turning his instincts rancid with cruelty.
Like Hades trapping Persephone beneath the shadowy realm of the underworld, Alfie caged his little bird. And though she tried to abide in her love for him, it was no use. His mind was bent on revenge.
She would make an attempt at escape a year later, but the pain in her legs made her easy to catch. For her punishment, Alfie brought her to the docks to see what the fisherman brought in. And there upon a large hook was a mermaid.
"You steal from me, I steal from you, my little bird....or should I say, my little fish," Alfie hissed, tilting her chin upward for a long look. "Your sister was a beauty."
She shook her head in disbelief. You're lying, she wanted to scream, but nothing more than a choked sob escaped her lips as she broke free of his grip.
"I'll give you a minute to catch up," Alfie offered mockingly.
Standing at the edge of the water that evening, the incoming tide washed an effervescent bright white froth ashore beside her and she wept. For when a mermaid dies, they turn to sea foam. It was a crushing realization that Alfie was telling the truth. Her sister was gone and it was her fault.
In a trance, she returned to Lethe, wishing she could forget all that had come before. But she wasn't granted that pardon.
"If you ever try to escape again, I swear you'll see every member of your family strung up," Alfie warned.
For the sake of those she loved, she stayed and lived unhappily ever after.
Summary: In the wake of Grace's abrupt departure, Polly attempts to settle her troubled nephew in the perfect home with the perfect wife. When she visits the nearby village, she decides you're the one and places you in the crosshairs of Tommy's dangerous desires.
Divider credit: @olenvasynyt
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
London, post-war. And the city is still learning how to breathe again.
Helena Almington has spent the last years holding her family's shipping empire together with steady hands and a spine of steel. Her ledgers are clean. Her routes are respected. Her men are loyal.
Then Alfie Solomons starts paying attention.
He says he only wants to talk business.
He says he's simply expanding trade.
He says her ships would be very safe carrying his goods.
Helena doesn't believe him.
The problem is… she doesn't entirely want to.
Because beneath the careful negotiations and polite threats, something far more dangerous is beginning to surface: the kind of slow, inevitable pull that ruins sensible people and redraws battle lines.
And in a London still haunted by war, influenza, and rising dock unrest… Trust might be the most expensive cargo of all.
Slow burn. Sharp tension. Dangerous alliances. And a man who never asks twice once he decides something is his.
You always tried to avoid him. Tried to put the same ignorance in your gaze that he put at yours. When you were at the gym, a silent nod was all he had for you. A cool look, the slight twitch of his chin, and that was it.
Tommy Conlon didn't like you. At least, that's what he radiated whenever you watched him box and train. And that's why you're even more surprised that you ended up in this position.
Your breath is stagnant, your legs are shaking, and you want nothing more than that cock, already with the tip pressed firmly against your pussy. He doesn't penetrate you though, just presses his tip heavily against the folds of your pussy, but he doesn't push it in, not yet, even though you're already dripping. That's how much you want this man, who hasn't said a word since he had wordlessly pressed you against the ropes of the boxing ring and had kissed you.
Tommy Conlon kisses like a god. His lips are soft and full, and what he doesn't say in words he packs all the more into the passionate movements of his mouth. Your breath caught when he kissed you so roughly, your knees went weak, but his strong forearm held you. You don't even know how much time has passed since he had pressed you to the floor, his hands on your body like a command. How deftly those fingers have pushed through the light layers of your gym clothes, as if they've done nothing else all their lives. Biting kisses, gasps for air, sweat, heat, everywhere. There was nothing like pressing your body up against his, feeling his heat, his hardness between your quivering legs.
He'd almost managed to finger you to climax. But only almost. He'd stopped before you'd gotten the chance, and there it had been, a small, barely visible grin at the corners of his mouth.
And now you're lying here, his hard cock between your legs, and he's still teasing you, holding you roughly while his tip just rubs very gently against your wet folds. Your body cries out for him, for release. You try to push yourself down further, up onto his dick, but he won't let you. Goosebumps run over your skin as you finally hear his voice against your ear. It's rough and deep.
"You're so damn wet baby, how bad do you want me? Do you want me to fuck you?"
You nod, swallowing hard against the burning heat in your throat, clawing at his strong shoulders.
"Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."
"Fuck me, please. Now, Tommy I-"
A jerk, and you moan. A tiny bit more his hot dick has slid into your center, just barely grazing his tip at your entrance. God, it's driving you crazy, this here, he-!
"You want me to fuck you - right, huh, until you can't walk anymore? God baby, you're so fuckin' wet, you're so..."
"Tommy," your hands reach into his sweaty hair, pulling him down against your face. He growls quietly. "Fuck me, now."
"Impatient nasty girl, you are" he grunts, and it's amused, you can see it in the corners of his mouth.
You get a warm, breathless kiss, and before you know it, he's suddenly forcing inside you with one hard thrust.
It's a revelation, that feeling - as his stiff cock finally penetrates deep inside your dripping pussy, as he finally conquers you with a sharp thrust of his hips. His lips slowly open as he sinks completely into you - for a moment he looks down at you, brushing a wet strand from your face.
"Have you ever seen a real buck fight, honey?"
Your vagina tightens, you can feel exactly how your walls vibrate with every word - how they're already contracting tightly now, how they suck his cock in deep.
"Of course."
"Then I'm going to show you how I fucking knock you out."
And he does. He supports himself with his strong arms to the left and right of your body, bites his lips hard, and then begins to thrust hard and relentlessly. His hips move as if boxing, penetrating deep and only pushing your trembling legs further apart, hard, sharp, tight thrusts, deep into your pussy. You can't even brace yourself against it, pick up his rhythm, it's too strong. And it really drives you to the edge of madness.
Tommy Conlon fucks like a god, too. His hands claw into your sides, holding you, making your breasts bob along to the beat with each thrust. You see he loves it, the way he licks his lips afterward, the way his hips sputter.
Your pussy almost explodes. Tommy's thrusts and cock are way too good for you, catching you ice cold and fucking you to a level you never thought you'd reach. He keeps up this pace, even as your dripping walls slowly tighten around him as the warm feeling in your belly grows stronger. You try to hold onto his shoulders, but he shakes your hands off, gets on his knees, pulls your ass up onto his trained thighs. And then he just keeps fucking you, the in and out of his hard dick like a prayer that all you can do now is whimper.
"Tommy-"
"Come baby, come, I want to feel it, come on."
His right rough hand slides between your folds, and he teases your clit to no end, his thumb sliding over it, teasing the little wet bud.
You come. You come so suddenly, as if Tommy had personally punched you in the face, as if he had thrown you out of the ring. You come so suddenly and so fucking hard that for a moment you can't even move your body, can't even breathe.
He fucks you through your orgasm, wordlessly, breathlessly. His hand stays on your clit, keeps rubbing, his cock keeps fucking until you can't take it anymore, until your pussy contracts tight and hot, squirting slightly. And Tommy loves it.
You don't know how long you feel the violent waves of your orgasm - but eventually you feel more wetness, more heat between your legs, feel his hips fucking harder than before and he lets out a deep grunt. He comes, pushing you over the edge again.
When you're done, the floor of the boxing ring is wet as hell, showing all the traces of your violent encounter. You feel exactly how his cum runs between your legs, warm, always down your thigh. Tommy's eyes move between your legs, and he grins slightly.
"We're going to take a shower, and then I'm going to fuck you again."
"Wow, you've talked more than you did all last year," you say shortly, and Tommy helps you stand up.
His eyes don't even leave you as you walk to the shower, and he even catches you as your shaking legs give way.
Tommy Conlon and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the beginning. Best friends for life, you’d say. Every other member of your lifelong groups of friends saw right through the way you two tended to, and doted on the other, and the rest of the town whispered about the closeness of your so-called “friendship.” They were all crazy with the buzzing gossip, or were they?
Warnings: Language. Fluffity-fluff.
Tommy ushered you through the slightly battered, creaky door of your favorite slimy, local tavern. Once weekly, your impenetrable circle of friends would gather for drinks, no matter how unmanageable your adult schedules may become. The 7 of you had been attached at the hip since high school, vowing to always have time for one another, and never let the woes of work, family or life interrupt.
This week’s decided night was Friday, much to your satisfaction. They all loved giving you the most grief over acting as the so-called ‘mom’ of the group. Always being the cautious one, the responsible one, and the one who painfully hated staying out past 9 on a weeknight. Truthfully, you’d stay home if it wasn’t for Tommy. You loved your friends, the family-knit bond of your group one you held in the deepest of regards. But, sometimes the quiet of your apartment, and a bottle of wine tickled your fancy more than the poignant booming of a crowded bar.
Summary: Tommy Conlon stumbles across a childhood friend, Y/n, from high school after years apart. Y/n is an aspiring photographer, determined to build a portfolio for a local competition—one final chance to prove her work matters. But as they reconnect, old promises resurface, and Tommy remembers the vow he made long ago, to take her to all the nice places they couldn’t go.
A/n: I’ve never written for Tommy Conlon before or even any non Peaky blinder characters, so do forgive me if I represented Tommy a little different than his cannon version!
Word count: 5k
Content includes: Mention of Abuse, fighting
It was an ordinary day for the soon-to-be MMA fighter in training, Tommy Riordan Conlon. Training and sweating from day till night, punching and kicking like his life depended on it—which it did. He had a competition to win, and he was going to win it. That was the plan. That was the goal. And once Tommy Conlon had his mind set on the prize, nothing else mattered.
He trained with his father, Paddy Conlon.
He never liked his father all that much. Paddy had been abusive and absent—especially when Tommy’s mother was sick and dying. But the only person Tommy trusted enough to train him now was the very man who broke him. Paddy had been his trainer and coach back in high school. And through all those years, Tommy couldn’t recall a single moment of happiness while doing something he was supposedly good at.
He didn’t even know what he was training his ass off for. Wasting his energy and blood over a competition that might not mean anything in the end. If he won—then what? His life was still already decided. And winning wouldn’t change the things that had already happened.
But still, The moment he heard about the upcoming tournament, all he knew was that he had to win.
Maybe—just maybe—it would give him a reason to keep going.
Tonight, Tommy trained alone as usual. He had thought about bringing his father along, but decided he couldn’t stomach the tension that day being around the old man. Paddy had been trying to fix things—mend his relationship with Tommy and his older brother Brendan—but Tommy didn’t believe that was possible anymore. Some things were too broken to be fixed.
What’s the point in trying to make things better, when all you’ve known your whole life is betrayal and disappointment?
Tommy wasn’t interested in useless connections. Or any kind of connection, really.
He ducked low to dodge the swinging bag in front of him, trading punches and kicks, grunting through every blow.
Meanwhile, you sat near the gym’s entrance, waiting for your older brother. He’d been coming to this small Pittsburgh gym for months now. You weren’t there to train—God, no. You had zero interest in the sport or the fitness community. You were here with one goal: to take pictures of your brother, the ring, the atmosphere, and maybe some of the other fighters in action.
You were submitting a portfolio for a local photography competition, and you really wanted to win. First place meant getting your work featured in a local magazine—and a nice cash prize to go with it.
You were already an aspiring photographer, though you never considered yourself particularly gifted. There were always flaws you noticed in your own work—composition, lighting, timing. But despite everything, you still kept taking pictures. Something inside you made you try, even when you didn’t know why.
Maybe, if you won—you’d finally prove yourself worthy of something.
You fell in love with photography the day your grandmother gave you a camera for your sixteenth birthday. You remember your very first shot: your father, slouched in his armchair with a beer in one hand and a newspaper in the other. And even though the lighting was bad and the angle was slightly crooked—the photo came out beautiful. At least, to you.
That camera became your escape to your dull life. You took pictures of everything and everyone. Your older brother had left for college, and you were stuck at home with your parents most of the time. He rarely came home—only for birthdays or Christmas, but by then he was gone again.
He had gone off to study biomedical engineering, but only to appease your father. In truth, he’d always loved boxing. Ever since he was a kid. But your father always dismissed it —“There’s room for hobbies,” he’d say, “but hobbies won’t get you anywhere.”
So your brother had snuck off in secret to train. Lied about having after-school classes. He found a small gym and started sparring with other aspiring boxers. After getting his master’s degree, he kept up the lie—working at the hospital and tending to others during the day, competing in underground matches by night.
And you? You got the same treatment.
The moment you expressed an interest in photography, your father tore you down. Criticized every photo you took.
“Not sharp enough”
“Too dark.”
“Nothing special.”
No picture was ever good enough. Nothing you did ever was. Even when you gave up photography to pursue a business degree just to make him proud—he found new ways to make sure that you knew you were useless.
Now, as you wandered around the gym aimlessly with your camera strapped around your neck, snapping candid shots of the space, you noticed a man off in the far corner—alone. You lowered your camera slightly, tilting your head. Why was he by himself instead of with the rest? Maybe he didn’t like working out around others. But he quickly slipped out of your mind as you moved on, trying to find something worth capturing. The light wasn’t great. The space felt uninspired. You reviewed your camera roll, deleting half the shots without hesitation. Nothing felt good enough.
You sighed. Today just wasn’t your day.
You were about to tell your brother you wanted to head home when your eyes drifted back toward the far corner. That same man. Still there. But now, as you looked closer—Your breath caught in your throat. It was him.
Tommy Riordan Conlon. A boy you once knew in high school—a long time ago.
“Tommy?”
The man in the sweat-drenched black shirt looked up from where he stood, hands braced on his knees. His eyes softened slightly as recognition dawned on him.
“Y/n?”
You gasped, your lips parting just a little in disbelief.
He remembered you?
Your body froze. Your hands were starting to get clammy. You swallowed a huge thick lump in your throat and tried your best to speak, even as your vocal cords refused to cooperate.
“Haven’t seen you in a long time. What’ve you been up to?” you asked, trying to sound casual. Like nothing had ever happened. But it was hard to be casual with someone who’d basically changed the most important years of your life.
Tommy wiped the sweat from his temples with a cloth pulled from his pocket. He hesitated—like he always did before talking. Maybe he was choosing his words carefully. Or maybe he just didn’t like talking about himself. He never had anyway.
“I’ve just been training,” he said finally, brushing his hair back. “Nothing much. What about you? Still taking pictures, huh?” he said pointing to your camera.
Your eyes widened slightly at the mention of your camera. “Oh—yeah, I still do photography. I’m actually here for a competition. Local portfolio thing.”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah? Ain’t much to take here, but I’ll leave that judgment to you.”
You laughed nervously. “I came with my brother. Thought I’d get some shots of him… and maybe anything else that looked, y’know, photo-worthy.”
Tommy took a long swig from his water bottle, his chest rising and falling with fatigue. “How many you taken so far? Sorry, I ask too many questions.”
You shook your head quickly. “No! No, you’re good. Really. I’ve taken a lot, but I’ve deleted just as many. I dunno… it’s hard to be satisfied with any of them. But—here, take a look if you want.”
You moved toward him, lifting your camera to show the screen. Your shoulders brushed briefly—both of you flinching just a little at the contact. It had been so long. And yet your body still remembered him.
You looked away quickly, lowering your gaze to the camera. “Sorry, Tommy.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just studied the photos as you clicked through them. You stopped on the last one—a sharp, mid-punch shot of your brother in stance.
You turned toward Tommy, who was already looking at you.
“So…what do you think? I think it’s okay.”
He looked away for a second, then back again. “I think it’s beautiful. You always had that eye. You take something ordinary and make it extraordinary.”
Your heart jumped. It was something he used to say back in high school—when you were still learning, still scared, still clinging to every bit of encouragement. He would hold your camera, look at your work, then say it with a softness in his eyes that never quite matched the roughness of his voice. Maybe, just maybe, the Tommy you knew hadn’t changed that much after all.
“Really? Wow. Thank you, Tommy. That means the world.”
Your eyes lingered on his for a moment—warm, familiar. Both of you locked in something quiet and invisible, until the tension pushed you apart again. You looked away, and so did he.
Tommy scratched the back of his neck. “Umm… I’m training for a competition too. The MMA tournament. I plan to win it—get all the money.”
Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “MMA? Oh my god, Tommy—that’s amazing!” you said, practically squealing with excitement for an old friend.
The joy in your voice caught him off guard. He felt his muscles relax, just a little—like he hadn’t heard anyone be that happy for him in a long time. He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting around the gym again. Collecting his thoughts, his breath, anything to ground him.
Being this close to you was making him short-circuit.
“Hey, uh—Y/n… ain’t that your brother over there?” Tommy nodded toward the ring. “I think he’s about to spar with that guy.”
You turned your head. There he was—your brother, stepping into the ring across from a tall guy with a flat mohawk.
“C’mon, Mad Dog! Don’t go easy on him,” the other man barked, who you assumed was Mad Dog’s coach. He massaged his fighter’s shoulders, amping him up.
Mad Dog? You blinked. He sounded strong.
And it turned out, he was.
Within seconds, Mad Dog delivered a bone-jarring punch straight to your brother’s ribs. You flinched. Every strike after that made him stumble, crouch, fall—no matter how hard he tried to get back up. Even when he defended himself, arms up and tight, Mad Dog still found a way to get through. Another jab. Then followed by another. The final hit forced your brother to surrender.
You couldn’t tell if he needed immediate help or if this was just normal for fighters. Either way, you weren’t breathing.
A warm hand landed gently on your shoulder.
“Don’t worry about him,” Tommy said quietly. “He’ll be fine.”
It was exactly what you needed to hear. His voice, his presence—it settled something in you. You nodded and hurried over to your brother, who now sat on the bench, a damp cloth draped over his eyes, chest heaving.
“You alright?”
“Y-yeah… that guy’s insane,” he groaned.
He pulled the cloth off—and froze. Tommy was standing right in front of him.
“Tommy? Is that you? Jesus… it’s really you! How’ve you been, man?”
Tommy nodded awkwardly, eyes flicking around the gym like they always did when attention was on him. “Uh… yeah. Been good.”
“He’s training for MMA,” you added proudly.
Your brother’s grin widened. “No shit? That’s amazing, Tommy.” He clapped him on the back. “Good for you.”
Tommy stayed quiet, but his eyes were fixed on the ring again. Mad Dog’s coach was now scanning the gym, calling out for someone else to spar with his fighter. But no one stepped forward.
“I’ll fight him,” Tommy said suddenly, voice low. “If no one else wants to.”
Your brother whipped his head around. “Tommy—no. You saw what he did to me. Don’t.”
Mad Dog smirked from across the ring. “If he wants to try, be my guest.”
The coach sighed, eyeing Tommy. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got, boy.”
Without hesitation, Tommy stepped into the ring. No prep. No warm-up. Just quiet focus. You watched as he stood in a fighting stance, heart hammering. But something told you he’d be fine.
Tommy struck first—swift and sharp. A kick to Mad Dog’s side sent the man staggering. When he rose, Tommy was already there, fists landing fast and brutal. You bit your lip, watching through your lens as the two collided over and over.
Every punch made you flinch. But it was beautiful, in a strange, haunting way. Two men, drenched in sweat, in a silent war for dominance.
And then—Mad Dog was down.
You raised your camera, zeroed in on Tommy’s face—panting, fierce, glowing with intensity—and snapped the shot. He looked like a monument.
The flash startled him. He turned, brow creased, eyes finding you.
“Oh—shit! Sorry, Tommy. I should’ve asked. I’ll delete it if you want.”
He walked toward you slowly, eyes still locked on the camera.
“Nah. Don’t delete it. Let me see.”
Hands trembling slightly, you flipped to the photo and held it out. Tommy stared at it for a long moment. Then looked back at you.
“Looka good. You made me look good. And I’m fuckin’ ugly.”
You laughed. “No you’re not, Tommy. You looked amazing out there.”
And he smiled. A real one. It made your chest ache.
Your brother, now dressed again, came out of the locker room—expecting to see the fight still happening, only to find Mad Dog on the ground and people helping him up.
“Wait… did you win, Tommy?” he asked.
Tommy just nodded, humble.
“Fucking hell,” your brother muttered with a proud grin.
Suddenly, Mad Dog’s coach waved Tommy over.
“I should probably go talk to him,” he said.
You nodded and watched him walk away, still dazed by what had just happened.
“We’ll leave soon,” your brother said. “Just gotta grab my stuff. Wait here, yeah?”
“Alright.”
Your brother and Tommy disappeared, and you sat down, scrolling through your photos again—eyes landing on the one you took of Tommy.He didn’t even have to try to look good. It almost annoyed you, how he couldn’t see how beautiful he was.
You were just working up the courage to ask him to be your model when his voice called out, but figured it was probably too late since your brother was already walking towards his car or maybe too soon for two old friends who’d only met after forever.
“Y/n.”
You looked up. Tommy was walking toward you again, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.
“So, uh…”
“I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna meet up sometime. Y’know… since we haven’t seen each other in like what? 10 years?.”
Your cheeks flushed pink as you fidgeted with your sleeves. You’d wanted to ask him the same thing. You’d been trying to find any trace of him online for years—social media, old threads, anything. But he had vanished. Until now.
“Of course, Tommy.” You smiled. “Actually… I was gonna ask if you’d be my model for the competition. If not, we can just hang out, talk, whatever works.”
He blinked, surprised. “Oh—yeah. I mean, I could be your model or whatever. If you think I’m, uh… worthy. I don’t really know what to do, though.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” you said softly. “Just be yourself.”
You handed him your phone and he typed in his number. The two of you stood in silence for a beat—taking it all in. Neither quite believing this was real. Even after all this time, there was still something between you. But also, something unspoken, something fragile—an invisible thread neither of you knew how to pull yet.
Your brother waved at you from across the gym, motioning toward the car. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay. But you would see him again. You knew you would.
“You should probably go,” Tommy said gently. “I’ll text you when I get back, promise.”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah… I’ll see you soon, Tommy.”
As you walked off, you turned around one last time, he was still looking at you. He gave a small, thoughtful wave, lowering his head with that soft shyness he never quite outgrew. You smiled to yourself sheepishly and waved back jogging to your brother’s side as he urged you into the car.
On the ride home, your heart was full of motion. You watched the world blur past the windows—streetlights, trees, people. And somewhere in your chest, you hoped like hell that Tommy would text you. Not because you didn’t trust him.
But because it had been so long since anyone ever meant it when they said they would.
Your brother’s car pulled up in front of your place just after 9 p.m. The sky was dark, and your body felt heavy—but your head was still buzzing. The whole drive home, he’d been talking about the fight, about how insane Tommy was, about how maybe he needed to start training harder. You barely heard anything he said
You were thinking about the photo. About Tommy’s voice. About the way he’d looked at you right before you left.
You mumbled a quick thanks and shut the car door, rushing inside, tossing your bag down without even bothering to turn on the main lights. Your camera was still around your neck.
And then—your phone buzzed.
You didn’t even make it past your bedroom door before unlocking it.
Tommy Conlon: Hey. It’s me. You still want that model or what?
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Still in your jeans and jacket, you threw yourself down onto your bed face-first, then rolled over and typed back fast:
You: Of course I do. I was hoping you’d text first, actually. Free tomorrow afternoon? Golden hour?
Your heart pounded. You watched the little dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Then finally:
Tommy Conlon: Golden hour sounds nice. Just tell me where.
And if I gotta bring snacks or just my awkward ass.
You laughed into your pillow, cheeks warm, legs kicking a little against the blanket like you were sixteen all over again.
You sat up just enough to reply:
You: Just bring yourself. And maybe a hoodie. It’s gonna be chilly. I’ll send the address.
Tommy Conlon: Alright. I’ll be there.
And just like that, It was actually happening. You looked at the camera still hanging around your neck, heart buzzing all over again.
You barely slept.
Every time you shut your eyes, you saw him—his face through your lens, the way he looked after the fight, the way he smiled when he said you made him look good. You kept replaying the sound of his voice reading your name.
By morning, your camera was already charging, your clothes were laid out, and your room smelled faintly like fresh coffee and nerves.
You stood in front of your mirror holding up outfit after outfit—first your “cool artist” look, then your “I-didn’t-try-that-hard” sweater, then something in between. You didn’t want to look too dressed up. But you also didn’t want to look like you just rolled out of bed.
God, why am I thinking about this so hard? you scolded yourself, throwing the hoodie back onto the chair.
Eventually, you settled on something simple and soft. Comfortable. Warm enough for the chill in the air. You pulled your hair back, then messed it up again. You checked your camera three times. Battery full. Memory card clear. Everything was ready.
Still… your hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting.
It wasn’t just the shoot. It was him.
It was that invisible thread between you both—the one that felt like it could either snap… or hold if you let it.
The sun was just starting to dip when you arrived at the location—a quiet stretch of overgrown field behind a shut-down rec center. Rusted bleachers sat untouched, wild grass curled around the old fence posts, and the light was melting golden across everything like honey.
It was perfect. Lonely but beautiful,
You adjusted your camera strap, checking the settings for the fourth time as you paced. He hadn’t texted that he was here yet, but your heart was already speeding like he had.
Then—you heard gravel crunch. Tommy.
He was walking toward you in that familiar, heavy kind of stride. Hands in the pocket of a black hoodie, hood up over his messy hair. His shoulders looked even broader under the sweatshirt. His eyes met yours, and the corner of his mouth tugged in something that almost looked like a smile.
“Hey,” he said, stopping a few feet from you. “Hope I’m not late.”
You shook your head. “You’re right on time.”
You tried not to show how weirdly breathless you felt. He looked good. That quiet, rugged kind of good. Like someone who didn’t know the effect he had.
“You sure this is the spot?” he asked, looking around at the peeling paint and weeds.
“Yeah,” you said softly, lifting your camera. “I like places like this. Feels like… something people forgot, but it’s still trying to be beautiful.”
Tommy nodded slowly, his gaze flicking around again.
“Alright. What do you want me to do?”
You smiled gently. “Just stand there for now. Don’t think too hard.”
He huffed a breath, a nervous kind of laugh under his breath. “That’s kinda all I do. Think too hard.”
You lifted the camera to your face.
“Then stop thinking. Just look at me.”
And it hit you—just how intense his eyes were. Not angry. Not cold. Just focused. Like he was trying to figure something out about you without asking.
Click.
You stepped sideways. “Now… turn a little to your side and just walk normally, Yeah. Look out toward the field.”
He did as you said. The light caught the edge of his jaw. You swore the wind shifted just right to make his hoodie fall back slightly, revealing more of his hair, the side of his neck.
Click.
“You doing okay?” you asked, gently lowering the camera.
He looked over at you, brow slightly raised. “I feel like an idiot just standing and walking here.”
You chuckled. “You don’t look like one. I promise.”
“You say that ‘cause you’re behind the camera. You got all the power,” he teased.
You smirked. “Exactly. So shut up and pose.”
He huffed again, but there was a softness behind it now.
After a few more photos, you walked up to him, showing him one of the shots on the screen.
His eyes scanned the image. Then he frowned—barely.
“Don’t like it?” you asked.
“No, it’s good. Just… I don’t know. I look too soft.”
You looked up at him.
“That’s why it’s good.”
He held your gaze for a second longer than he probably meant to. There it was again. That invisible thread. You lifted the camera back up. “Alright. Try sitting down over here—on the edge of the bleachers.”
He followed your direction, hands on his knees, eyes cast downward at first. The sky behind him was bleeding orange and gold.
Click
You didn’t tell him to smile. His face, even resting, said everything.
After a while, You both sat on the edge of the bleachers, your camera resting in your lap. The sky had shifted from gold to blue-gray, the wind growing cooler now that the sun had dipped below the trees. For a while, neither of you said anything. You just let yourselves sit there, shoulder to shoulder.
Tommy’s hands were clasped in front of him, His hoodie sleeves were pushed up slightly, revealing the curve of his forearms. He was staring out at the field like there was something out there he couldn’t name.
You looked over at him, lips parting, then closing again. Your fingers tightened slightly around your camera. You weren’t sure if you should ask. But it had been sitting in your chest like a stone ever since that night at the gym.
“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.
“You just did.”
You smiled faintly, despite the nerves. “What happened? I mean… after high school. You just—disappeared.”
The silence stretched long between you as you looked down to your feet, “Sorry. You don’t have to answer. I just… always wondered.”
“My mom got sick.”
“I left with her,” he continued. “She didn’t want to die there. Didn’t want to be near him. So we packed what we could and drove west. Stayed with some family friends for a while.”
His jaw clenched, “She died not long after we got there.”
You stayed quiet. The way he said it, like it was something he hadn’t said out loud in years. Maybe ever.
“I joined the Marines a year later,” he said. “Needed to get the fuck out. Needed to do something that made sense. I figured if I could fight for something else, maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’d already lost everything.”
Your throat felt tight, maybe feeling a little upset that he kept it away from you. But then again, who were you to be upset at his decision?
“I didn’t tell anyone,” he added, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “Not Brendan. Not my dad. Not you.”
“Why?” you asked softly.
He finally turned to look at you.
“Because I didn’t think anyone would care.”
Your heart cracked in half, feeling yourself getting more upset.
“I would’ve cared,” you whispered.
Tommy didn’t say anything. But he looked at you like he believed it—and like that belief hurt.
You wanted to reach for his hand, but you couldn’t, stopped by the invisible wall between the two of you.
You both sat in silence again, the air heavier now—but not unbearable. Just full of things that had never been said.
Suddenly you remembered.
Flashback — High School
You were sixteen, and your camera was still new, hanging from your neck with a bright yellow strap. The film was cheap, the lens a little scratched, but to you, it was magic.
You and Tommy sat behind the old gym building, near the school, leaning back against sun-warmed bricks. He had a split lip from a fight two days earlier. You had a scratch on your arm from your father slapping your camera out of your hands when he saw the newest roll.
“You should stop taking pictures if it gets you in trouble,” Tommy had muttered, gazing at the cracked pavement.
You shook your head, biting down the sting in your throat. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. And he hates it.”
Tommy turned to look at you then—his eyes were darker than the bruises on his face.
“Fuck what he thinks.”
You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden heat in his voice.
He took a deep breath, then added quieter, “One day…When I get outta here, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice. Not this shit town. Real places. Good light. Big skies. You’ll take pictures so beautiful it’ll shut him the fuck up.”
You laughed softly. “That sounds impossible.”
“It ain’t,” he said, dead serious. “You deserve to go somewhere that don’t make you feel like you’re small.
He reached out and tugged gently at your camera strap, just enough to pull the camera into his hand. He turned it toward you and squinted through the viewfinder.
“You’re the only thing that looks good in this place anyway,” he muttered, then snapped the photo.
Present
You turned your head to look at him—older, bruised, tired—but still that same boy, somewhere underneath all that hurt.
“ You remember when you said you’d take me to nice places?”
Tommy looked over at you. His expression shifted—almost like a wince. Like it hurt to remember that moment.
“Yeah, I do”
“And now here we are,” you smiled. “Maybe this isn’t Venice or New York or whatever, but…”
You gestured toward the field. The golden light now long gone, replaced with deep blue shadows and a soft, humming silence.
“It’s a nice place”
You looked down at your hands, resting in your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the lens cap of your camera. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you.
And then, gently and hesitantly—his hand reached for yours.
Callused fingers brushed over your knuckles before settling around them, his grip was firm but unsure, like he didn’t quite know if he was allowed. He exhaled, slowly. Like he’d been holding that breath for years.
“I meant it, y’know,” he said.
“That day behind the gym,” he murmured. “When I said I’d take you to all the nice places… places where you’d finally feel like you mattered.”
His voice wavered, just slightly, “I still want to do that.”
“But not just for you,” he added, more softer now. “For me, too. Maybe I need to see those places more than I thought. I want to see them with you”
You swallowed hard, throat full of things you couldn’t say yet, you squeezed his hand tightly.
“You’re already doing it, Tommy,” you whispered.
“This is one of them.”
His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, “I know I fucked up back then,” he said. “I letft without a word. Didn’t think I deserved to come back.”
“But I wanna try again, Y/n. I wanna do right by you this time.”
His eyes met yours, steady— and it gentler than you’d ever seen them, more than you remembered.
Everyone always said Tommy was like the moon. Cold and distant. And always drifting in his own orbit. But not to you. To you, Tommy Conlon was the sun. Your sun.
When he smiled, it was the brightest star. When he spoke, his voice was the sweetest morning dew—warm and aching with things he didn’t know how to say properly.
“I should’ve taken you with me,” he said. “Back then. I wanted to. I thought about it more times than I can count, believe me.”
You stared at him, your heart breaking and blooming all at once.
He swallowed, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles now.1
“But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I’ll take you.”
His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t look away.
Summary: You come back home after a work trip, and Eddie and Venom are both excited to see you again. Maybe a little too excited.
Check the Eddie x Neighbor Masterlist for more
Warning/Tags: smut, minors DNI, threesome, sexting, masturbation, handjob (or should I say tendriljob?), anal fingering (eddie receiving) unprotected piv, double penetration, cum eating, creampie, oral (f!receiving), venom being venom, set between first and second movie.
It was past midnight when Eddie’s phone buzzed. He was lying on the couch, the TV still on but muted, the flickering light casting soft shadows over his bare chest. His sweats rode low on his hips, he had a hand resting lazily over his stomach, he wasn’t asleep, not really, just…drifting, letting his mind go blank, trying not to think about you, but failing miserably at it.
His cock had been half-hard all day, twitching at nothing, at the memory of your body. He hadn’t even tried jerking off, not without you, not without that look in your eyes when you took him in your mouth like it belonged to you.
You were out of town on a work trip that felt more like a punishment the longer he stayed alone in that bed, everything smelled like you, but felt empty.
The phone buzzed again, this time louder. He squinted at the screen and immediately sat up like he’d been electrocuted. You’d sent a photo… a nude. It took a second for his brain to catch up with his eyes.
“OH MY GOD,” Venom screamed on full volume, rattling around in Eddie’s skull. “BLESSED BE TECHNOLOGY. WE ARE GRATEFUL TO THE DIGITAL GODS.”
Eddie couldn’t even answer, couldn’t speak. His mouth went bone-dry as his eyes locked onto the screen like it held the secrets of the universe. You were laid out on a hotel bed, topless, the sheets a mess beneath you, your perfect tits on display, nipples hard and aching. You had one hand between your thighs, your fingers slick and glistening.
“Shhhit,” Eddie muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
His cock twitched instantly, half-hard, painfully straining against his boxers, already leaking, a fat bead soaking through the fabric. He was pushing his waistband down before the thought even registered because it fucking hurt to keep his pants on, like his cock was pissed to be contained. He shoved his sweats down, not bothering to untie the waistband. His boxers got shoved under his balls, catching on the base of his cock, and then his length slapped hard against his stomach with a wet sound.
Pre-cum smeared across his abs, a slick trail that glistened as he looked down. His member jumped in his hand the moment he wrapped his fingers around it. The head was glossy, flushed a deep red, and when the air hit him, he shuddered.
No time to think, no time to breathe, just stroke, just fucking relief. He moved his fist slowly at first, squeezing just under the head, milking the sensitive ridge.
“ASK FOR MORE. SEND HER A PICTURE OF OUR DICK.” Venom snarled in Eddie’s head.
He sat forward, still holding the phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. His chest rose and fell too fast, he could feel the blood rushing between his legs, the ache already blooming.
He typed:
You trying to kill me?
You replied instantly:
That depends
Is it working?
Fucking yes it’s working Eddie hissed to himself, licking his lips.
He sucked in a breath, dropped his eyes again to the screen… to your picture.
“Look at her,” Venom purred. “She’s so wet. Because of us. She wants you to stroke it. Do it, Eddie.”
He curled his fingers around the base of his cock, like he was trying to hold back a dam ready to burst. He jerked his hips without permission as he fisted himself in one slow stroke, dragging his palm over the slick, pulsing head, smearing the hot pre-cum across his fist.
“She’s gonna make you cum with a fucking selfie,” Venom said, his voice almost giddy. “You pathetic, desperate man. You’d hump the couch if she told you to.”
Eddie didn’t even argue, he just moaned as he typed again, slower this time:
You touching yourself right now?
Your reply came right after:
Only if u are
“WE ARE. WE ABSOLUTELY ARE.” Venom purred in Eddie’s mind.
Your next message read:
Wrap ur hand around it
Slow first
I want u to describe it for me
Eddie rushed to reply:
It’s hard baby
So fucking hard
I’m stroking like you said
Feels good but not enough without you
He groaned again, and the couch creaked as he leaned back further, spreading his legs wider, like he needed space just to handle how fucking hard he was. His cock twitched in his fist, pulsing with every pump of his hand. He stroked up slow, cruelly slow, just to feel every bit of the burn, every clench in his abs as he edged himself again.
You’re driving me crazy
My hand isn’t you
It’s not your mouth
Not your pussy.
You typed slower now, savoring it:
Grip tighter and stroke all the way down then squeeze the head.
Imagine I’m on my knees in front of u looking up at ur face
He dropped his head back on the cushion, and then he let himself imagine it. Your mouth licking across the head, teasing his slit with the flat of your tongue, tasting him while you looked up with that smug, sinful expression like you knew he was about to lose it. He could see it, you kneeling between his legs, taking him slow, wrapping your lips around the tip, stroking with your hand what your mouth couldn’t reach, you’d moan around him just to feel the way he jumped on your tongue.
Fuckfuckfuck baby
I can see it
I’m dripping already
Everywhere
My hand’s a mess.
He grunted, jerking his hips, his grip faltering from how slick he was. He worked his hand faster now. His mind raced, picturing you dropping down on his cock, inch by inch, taking him deep, so deep you fluttered your eyes shut, your mouth going slack around a moan when he bottomed out.
Venom snarled in his head, practically writhing with amusement. “WE’RE GONNA CUM THINKING ABOUT HER PUSSY AND SHE’S NOT EVEN HERE.”
Shit baby I’m close
Say something
Tell me what to do
Don’t cum until I say
Edge yourself for me
His phone buzzed again. A video this time. You, laid out like a fucking fantasy, your skin flushed, gliding your fingers over your slick cunt, teasing your clit in slow circles, rolling your hips in these lazy movements. And the sounds… your moans were so soft, breathless, just barely audible through the speakers, but filthy enough to make his cock jump in his hand like it wanted to crawl through the screen.
He fumbled his cock in his hand. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.”
“Zoom. ZOOM. Enhance. Again. Again. AGAIN.” Venom was practically vibrating in his skull, like a rabid animal clawing to get closer, to get in. “I WANT TO BE IN THE PHONE. LET ME IN THE PHONE.”
He hit replay. Again. And again. And again. Every second was burned into his brain, the way your thighs trembled, your brows pinched, that breathless little “fuck” you whispered when your fingers pressed in deeper. The way your other hand cupped your breast, your nails grazing your nipple.
Please, baby
Please let me
I can’t hold it anymore.
The sounds you made played on a loop in his head. Your breathy whines, the wet suck of your fingers working your cunt, fuck, he could hear how soaked you were, and it only made him tighten his grip on his cock. Eddie was barely hanging on.
Alright
Stroke for me, baby
Fast. Don’t hold back.
I want u to cum hard for me
He arched his back off the couch like he’d been electrocuted. “F-Fuck—” he jerked his hips uncontrollably as his cock throbbed in his hand. Soon, warm and sticky streaks painted up his stomach in white. He quivered, hitching his breath. He was cumming so hard it felt like a punishment.
After he came back down from his climax, silence followed, just the flickering from the TV, the rise and fall of his breath, and the ghost of your moans still echoing in his head.
Then, another message.
Ur turn
Show me the mess I’m missing
Eddie stared at the message like it might combust in his hand. He was still half-sprawled on the couch, with sticky fingers, his cock twitching even after he’d already cum, but already starting to harden again.
“CAMERA. CAMERA. TURN ON THE CAMERA—”
He wiped his hand on his pants and typed:
You really want to see?
You replied:
Yes
I showed u so now u gotta show me
“YES. YES. WE ARE SENDING A VIDEO. SEVERAL. PERHAPS A LIVE STREAM.”
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed.
“NO. YOU SHUT UP. SHE ASKED. WE OBEY. NO TIME FOR BITCHING NOW.”
Eddie blew out a shaky breath and looked down at himself. His cock pulsed, dragging across the sticky mess cooling on his abdomen. He was hard again at just the idea of you watching him, of your eyes on his hand. He grabbed his phone, flipping the camera to record.
“SHOW HER. SHOW HER THE COCK.”
At first, he just filmed the aftermath, just his stomach slick with cum, his muscles taut, barely recovering. The camera picked up everything: the way he clenched his abs, the jumping of his cock when he drifted his fingers lower. He smeared his release slowly, dragging the mess over the flushed head of his cock, playing in the slick, making it wetter, coating himself in the evidence of just how badly he needed you.
The words slipped out before he could think. “You watching, baby?” he whispered into the phone. “You like this? Like seeing what you did to me?”
“Yes, Eddie. Show her. Stroke it for her. Show her what she did.” Venom said out loud.
He angled the camera with one hand, as he worked his cock with pressure, curling his fingers tightly around the base, dragging upward with just enough friction to make his hips twitch in response.
“Fucking ruined me. You didn’t even touch me, and I came for you.”
Then he tilted the camera lower, just enough to give you the full and obscene view: The thick veins running along his shaft, the way his hand glided, already shiny with cum, the steady roll of his hips lifting off the couch, chasing more pressure, more contact, more of you.
“GOOD ANGLE. YES. SHOW HER THE VEIN.”
“Shut up, V.”
He dragged his thumb slowly across the angry, swollen head of his cock, smearing the last slick bead of cum in with a shuddering breath, then squeezed tighter near the base, just enough to make his hips buck with the pressure.
“I came so hard thinking about you,” he breathed. “And I’m still fucking hard. You gonna help me with that, sweetheart?”
“Of course, our little temptress will help us.”
“You want more? Want me to cum again just for you?”
The screen shook slightly with each thrust of his hips, his thighs tensed and spread wider, grounding him as he rutted up into his hand, the veins standing out in his arms as he tried to hold himself back, to give you a show instead of just giving in.
Then he whispered. “You make me so fucking hard. Wish it was your hand.” Another breath. Another stroke. “Wish it was your mouth. Want you to see what you do to me. Want you to ache for it.”
Sent.
Immediately regretted it. His cheeks were flushed, still warm with arousal and shame, his chest still rising and falling in uneven, post-orgasmic gulps.
“Fuck me,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I filmed that. I—what the fuck is wrong with me. That was so embarrassing.”
“YOU WERE PERFECT. A TRUE SPECIMEN. YOU SHOULD HAVE SENT MORE. ANGLES, CLOSE-UPS, PERHAPS A LITTLE FLEXING—”
Eddie just lay there, arm flung over his eyes, lips parted. “You think she liked it?”
“SHE’S PROBABLY DEAD. OR SCREAMING. OR DEAD AND SCREAMING.”
Not even a full minute passed. Then:
Holy fuck Eddie
U look so hot I wish I could lick it off u
All that mess for me?
Eddie replied:
Always for you
Fuck
I can’t stop thinking about you riding me
You:
I wish I could ride you right now
Sit on ur cock and make u beg
Another photo, this time your fingers between your legs, two of them disappearing into your soaked pussy, glistening in the dim light.
I’m so wet looking at ur cock
Please send a video cumming
And be loud for me
Eddie hit record again and he stroked himself slowly, teasing, dragging his hand up and down his slick cock with languid precision, groaning out your name like you were right there, kneeling between his spread legs.
“Fuck, baby… I miss you. I miss this. I wanna be inside you so bad—”
“Angle down. No, lower. LOWER. We are showing her the main event, not your sad couch.” Venom instructed. “Groan louder. She wants the sound. Don’t be a coward, Eddie.”
He didn’t even make it thirty seconds. The orgasm ripped through him without warning, a guttural gasp left his chest, then a deep, broken moan as he bucked his hips up hard, spilling cum across his stomach in thick pulses.
“Fucking—oh my God—baby—”
He cried out your name again and again, as his body shook with the force of it. The camera caught everything, from the twitch of his cock, to the way his cum shot out of him, making another mess on his stomach.
Your reply came a few minutes later:
Fuck it looks so good baby
Came so hard watching it
“YES! WE MADE HER CUM,” Venom roared in triumph.
Eddie groaned, still catching his breath, lying flat on the couch like he’d been flattened by a truck. His stomach was a mess, and his right hand was still sticky. He could barely move.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, scrubbing his clean hand down his face. “We? You didn’t do shit.”
“I was the artistic director of your little film,” Venom said smugly. “YOU THINK YOU CAME UP WITH THOSE ANGLES? THAT FLEX? THAT DRAMATIC SHOT OF THE CUM DRIPPING DOWN YOUR STOMACH? NO. ME.”
Eddie ignored him and just stared at the screen for a long time. Then typed:
You win
I’m officially ruined
You replied a second later:
Good
Now go to sleep baby. See u tomorrow
Eddie had his arm heavy around your waist as you curled against him in bed, splaying his fingers protectively over your hip like he never wanted to let go. Venom’s head was hovering next to the two of you, focused on the movie you were watching on Eddie’s laptop, and on the chocolate chip cookies you’d baked the night before.
“Missed you so fucking much,” Eddie mumbled into your hair.
You laughed into his shoulder. “You said that like twenty times already since I arrived.”
“We missed you. He is pathetic without you. Always whining. Always hard.”
You snorted, shoving Eddie back just enough to see his flushed face. “Venom, stop tattling on him already.”
“We tell the truth.”
Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I got back less than twenty-four hours ago and you two are already fighting for my attention,” you teased, grabbing another cookie from the plate over the nightstand. The black, viscous mass of Venom’s face slithered up your side, pressing against your skin. His toothy grin widened, his long, slimy tongue flicked out, darting toward your shoulder with playful hunger.
“COOKIE. GIVE ME.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as Venom chomped down the cookie, curling his tongue around the crumbs. He let out a pleased growl, almost like a cat purring, before immediately demanding:
“MORE.”
Eddie threw his hands up. “Hey, hey, they’re not all for you, buddy! I get a few too!”
You bit back a grin, breaking a cookie in half and offering both sides, one to Eddie, one to Venom. “No fighting. I baked enough for both of you.”
Venom crunched his half in one terrifying bite, while Eddie lingered, chewing slowly.
“God,” Eddie sighed, licking chocolate off his thumb. “Marry me.”
Venom immediately snarled. “NO. She marries us. Not just you. We are a package.”
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth to stop cookie crumbs from flying, but only a few minutes later, you were kissing Eddie’s shoulder, then lower, pressing kisses along the slope of his chest until he chuckled.
“What’s that about?” he murmured.
You bit your lip and nosed at the dip between his ribs. “Well, I missed you, too.”
“That’s code for I’m horny, Eddie.” Venom clarified with an amused grin. “She needs our attention.”
You rolled your eyes at Venom’s remark, even though he wasn’t wrong. Yesterday had left you utterly drained from your trip, all you’d managed was to bake the cookies as a little surprise for them before collapsing into bed early. Days had passed since you and Eddie had last been together, and the dry spell was starting to ache. You needed him. Needed him more than ever.
“Eddie, can I ask you something?”
He twitched his brows. “Yeah, ‘course.”
You hesitated for just a beat, and then, almost like a dam breaking, the words spilt out, it was the confession of a fantasy that had been simmering in your mind for far too long. “Have you ever thought about me… like… fingering you?”
There was a beat of silence, and then you felt the way Eddie stiffened, how he froze his hand on your waist, and the tension rippling across his abdomen as he opened his eyes wider than they had been all day.
“Uh… what?”
Venom, unhelpfully, laughed. “She wants to touch your ass, Eddie. Don’t be a pussy and let her. I’m curious too.”
“Venom… don’t. Not now.” Eddie said, pointing a finger at the floating head.
You leaned up on your elbow, watching him with calm patience. “It’s not a big deal if the answer’s no. I’ve just been thinking about it.”
Eddie blinked up at the ceiling, clearly struggling. “You—you mean, like… actually in?”
You raised a brow, biting your lip. “I mean you on your stomach. Me with lube. My fingers. Your ass. Yes. But only if you want it. Only if you’re curious.”
He swallowed, bobbing his Adam’s apple, a rosy flush was already creeping up his neck, and it was spreading fast all over his face. His cheeks were flushed too, and you hadn’t even touched him yet.
“Have you… done that before?” he glanced at you nervously.
You smiled. “Not really.”
Venom was already losing his damn mind, screaming inside Eddie’s head. “YES. YES. WE’LL DO IT, LITTLE TEMPTRESS. EDDIE, YOU’RE CURIOUS. YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN CURIOUS. EDDIE, SUBMIT TO HER.”
“V, it’s Eddie’s choice. Let’s not pressure him.” You said gently to the symbiote.
Eddie made a strangled noise, covering his face with one hand, he was blushing so hard it looked like he was being set on fire. “God, baby… You can’t just say that like it’s nothing—fuck.” But then softer: “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I trust you.”
You felt the fluttering of your heart inside you, like your chest was blooming just from hearing those words. “Yeah?” you whispered, kissing his jaw. “You trust me?”
Eddie nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”
You kissed him again, deeper this time, sliding your hands down his chest, tracing with your fingers the faint trail of hair down to where he was already starting to harden under his pants. His cock twitched under your touch, half-hard and growing fast. Eddie lifted his hips to help you slide his pants and underwear down, before wrapping your fingers around him. You stroked slowly, lovingly, the way he liked it, and he gasped against your mouth, relaxing under your touch, his nerves giving way to need.
“You’re so good for me,” you murmured. “So fucking sexy.”
You kept your strokes slow, using your free hand to slick up your fingers with lube from the nightstand, that one you'd brought to his place a few weeks ago, just in case one day you might need it. The scent of the lube drifted between you. Eddie looked surprised but also flustered, groaning as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“Tell me if anything hurts and I’ll stop.”
He nodded again, this time quicker. “I—I will. Promise.”
You kissed his neck, then trailed lower, exploring his chest with your mouth. You traced the curve beneath his pec with your tongue, feeling him shudder, his nipples hardening under the brush of your breath. You coated your fingers generously and reached between his legs, past his balls, slowly circling his entrance with featherlight pressure, just shallow touches at first, watching his muscles twitch and his breath catch, you didn't want to overwhelm him.
Eddie would be lying if he said he’d never wondered what it would feel like, but the sex he’d had up until now had been vanilla at best. Missionary. Lights off. Fifteen minutes. Done. Over. Safe. He’d never imagined he’d find himself here, trembling, completely unprepared for this kind of touch.
“You good?” you whispered.
He nodded. “Just… go slow.”
Venom was vibrating with anticipation as he kept his eyes on both of you. “RELAX, EDDIE. SHE’S GOING TO MAKE YOU SEE THE UNIVERSE.”
“V, give me a hand with this.” You whispered, curling your lips into a wicked smile. “Stroke him for me.”
Venom didn’t need to be told twice. He slithered down a slick tendril, wrapping it around Eddie’s cock with precision. He pumped him in perfect rhythm, making Eddie let out a guttural noise you’d never heard before.
You waited for him to relax, for the tension in his thighs to ease, and then you gently pressed forward, just the very tip of your finger, just soft pressure, barely there. He moaned when your fingertip slipped past the tight ring of muscle. It was a high-pitched, surprised noise, like it had been torn out of him, he curled his toes and arched his back off the bed involuntarily.
“Still okay?” you asked gently.
“Y-Yeah. Just new.”
“RELAX YOUR ASS, EDDIE.”
His hole clung tight around your finger, fluttering as you eased it in deeper, and the heat of him wrapped around you in a way that made your own breath hitch.
It felt strange, not in a bad way, just new, intense, and overwhelming. Not painful, you were so gentle, teasing him, moving your fingers just right, and the way you looked at him with that burning mix of desire and tenderness in your eyes made him relax and melt into your touch.
“Shit—that’s weird.”
Venom hummed encouragingly. “Weird and good. Keep going.”
You smiled against his skin. “Want more?”
He nodded shakily. “Yeah—fuck, yeah.”
You hummed, smiling, leaning down to kiss his lips as you worked your finger deeper. You kissed him until he sighed into your mouth, until his body relaxed under the weight of your affection. When you pressed deeper, just a little, he moaned like it was pulled from somewhere deep. You could feel him clenching around your finger, and the vulnerability in it made your chest ache with how much you adored him.
As the tight walls of his ass began to stretch around your finger, a shiver ran through him, every nerve ending was pulsing with a type of filthy pleasure he’d never known. This new and forbidden sensation was starting to feel fucking amazing, every movement of your hand was drawing out heat until it pooled in the pit of his stomach.
His hole was loosening now, and you could glide your finger deeper with every wet slide, feeling the trembling of his thighs from the effort of holding still. You moved gently, curling your finger just a little, watching how his hips twitched, and the way his cock leaked pre-cum on Venom’s tendril as you began to really finger him, still trying to keep your thrusts slow.
“Eddie. Eddie. She’s fingering you. YOU'RE GETTING FINGERED. And you like it. You little slut.”
You chuckled at Venom’s words, but instantly kissed Eddie’s temple, trying to calm him down. “You’re doing so good. You look gorgeous like this, baby. Taking it so well.”
He whimpered, tensing and trembling under your touch. Sweat started to bead at his hairline, he parted his lips, and they looked a dark pink from how often he’d been biting them.
“OH MY GOD. I DIDN’T KNOW IT COULD LOOK LIKE THAT. EDDIE. I’M PROUD OF YOU. DO YOU FEEL POWERFUL? DO YOU FEEL ALIVE?”
You leaned closer. “Do you want another one, baby? Want me to stretch you open a little more?”
He fluttered his eyes open, and nodded without hesitation. “Yeah… fuck—give me another. I can take it.”
"LOOK WHO'S A BIG, GREEDY BOY NOW," Venom pumped him steadily with his tendril, sliding up to the tip then back down, coating his cock in more of his arousal.
The sound you made was low and pleased as you pulled your finger out just enough to coat a second one in lube. Then you pressed both against his rim, circling gently so you could give him some time to breathe before slowly working them in. The stretch was deliciously obscene, you slid the second finger in beside the first with a wet squelch.
“Oh fuck—fuck. Oh God.” Eddie whimpered, digging his fingers into the mattress.
“Feels good like this?” you whispered full of desire. You’d never seen a guy as needy as Eddie, and you loved every bit of it. “God, you’re so tight, Eddie.”
“So sensitive,” Venom purred. “Such a perfect boy… ours.”
You worked the two fingers inside him with steady thrusts, curling them just a bit each time, rotating and scissoring them inside his tight heat.
You leaned down, pressing kisses along his shoulder, brushing your lips against his ear as you whispered, “You like that, don’t you? Feeling me inside you…”
“F-fuck… yeah… too much—” Eddie moaned, drawing up his knees slightly as his body adjusted. You could hear the lube-slick sounds of your fingers working him open, and the wet sounds of Venom working his pre-cum-covered cock.
You crooked your fingers just right until you felt him clench hard around you, pressing against his sweet spot, making him gasp loudly.
“Fuckfuckfuck—what the hell was that?”
You grinned, thrilled. He looked so fucking cute. “That’s your prostate, sweetheart.”
His breath came faster. “No one’s ever—fuck, fuck, keep—keep doing that, oh fuck—”
You did. Again and again, fucking him with your fingers as he writhed under you, sweating and moaning and falling apart.
Venom slid his appendage upward, pressing against the underside of his shaft, twisting gently as it moved. It slid up with teasing pressure, then slid down, lightly brushing the tip. It pulsed in a smooth, steady motion, jerking him slightly, circling the head lightly, then gripping the shaft with a wet, slick grip.
You watched his thighs start to shake, his abs trembling with tension, his cock jumping with every stroke. Eddie was trembling beneath you, completely undone, torn between embarrassment and overwhelming pleasure. His legs were spread wide for you now, no resistance left, just raw need.
“Fucking—gonna cum, baby,” he panted, hips starting to roll.
You leaned over him, breathing against his lips. “Then cum for me. Let go.”
“We like you like this… restrained, desperate… begging for release.”
Eddie’s breathing grew uneven. “Oh—oh God… you two… don’t—stop—please…”
You mirrored Venom’s pace with your fingers, curling inside his ass just enough to make him gasp. The combination of your firm touch and Venom’s rhythmic stroking was driving him wild. He rocked his hips involuntarily, trying to chase the pleasure that was building faster than he could handle.
He spilled with a loud, wrecked groan, his cock pulsing as hot and thick ropes of cum painted the black tendril in white, dripping across his stomach.
He clenched his thighs around your arm and his ass around your fingers as his body seized in pleasure. His whole body spasmed with the force of it. You kept going, easing him through the comedown, kissing his forehead and whispering how good he’d been for you, how pretty he looked when he came like that.
Venom purred with satisfaction, releasing Eddie’s cock only after the last spasm had shuddered through him. A tendril stroked his chest almost tenderly, wiping at the mess. “SO PROUD OF YOU, EDDIE. MY SWEET LITTLE BOTTOM BOY.”
You chuckled, but Eddie only rolled his eyes, and when he could finally speak, he rasped out, “Holy fuck.”
You curled beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing your nose to his shoulder. “That was okay?”
“Shit—that was more than okay, that was—” Eddie got distracted when he saw the way you were sliding down his body slowly, kissing your way across his abs, smiling as he gave a lazy groan. “What’re you—”
“Cleaning you up,” you murmured sweetly, and before he could protest, you leaned down and licked a slow stripe from the base of his cock up to the swollen head.
“F-fuck,” Eddie choked, twitching as you dragged your tongue over his sensitive shaft.
You grinned up at him, licking along the underside again before wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently to gather the cum that was dripping down. His breath stuttered, jerking his hips involuntarily,
But you smirked, cupping Eddie’s thigh and looking over at the hulking black mass. “Come on, Venom. Don’t just stand there. Help me clean him up.”
Venom extended the tendril that had been stroking Eddie before, still glistening with a mixture of slick and cum. The thick appendage curled closer, hovering above you. Then, with exaggerated slowness, Venom extended his enormous tongue and dragged it along the length of the tendril. The reaction was immediate, he contorted his face, squinting his eyes like he’d bitten into something foul. “Disgusting!” he roared, spitting dramatically to the side. “Eddie, you are rotten inside. You taste like death.”
Eddie groaned, covering his face with his hand. “Oh, for God’s sake. It’s your fault for only wanting to eat tater tots and chocolate.”
You burst into giggles, nuzzling Eddie’s thigh before licking another line up his cock, deliberately slow. “Don’t listen to him, baby. He’s just being dramatic.”
Venom sniffed his tendril, then licked again, slower this time, as though double-checking his opinion. He twisted his face even harder, baring his teeth in a theatrical grimace. “Ughhh! It is even worse the second time! Sour, bitter, wrong. You need to do the pineapple diet. Yes. We will make you eat it every day.”
You laughed outright, nearly choking on a lick as you glanced up at Eddie. “How does he even know about pineapple?”
His ears were bright red, his jaw tight as he muttered, “He spends too much time on NSFW subreddits.”
“Well, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You taste delicious.” You wrapped your lips around his cock again, sucking gently on the head, letting him watch you savor him. “See? I love it.”
Venom growled, shaking his massive head like a disappointed parent. “She lies to protect your fragile ego. You are poisonous.”
You chuckled again, licking the last streak of cum from Eddie’s shaft before kissing the head softly. “Ignore him, baby. He doesn’t get it. He’s not used to it.”
Venom muttered in the background, still sulking. “Rotten, Eddie. Rotten. We will order pineapples tomorrow.”
Eddie hadn’t even caught his breath before his cock twitched back to life, thick and hard again against his stomach. You laughed softly, brushing your lips over his jaw.
“Already?” you teased.
His eyes burned into yours. “Already,” he growled, pushing you onto the mattress with a thud and climbing over you with that desperate energy you knew so well.
His cock slapped heavily against your thigh as he pressed your wrists into the sheets. “You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he whispered, kissing you roughly and biting at your lips.
“Good,” you whispered back, arching up against him. “Then fuck me, Eddie. Show me.”
And he did. Eddie drove into you with one hard thrust, burying his cock to the hilt. You gasped, arching your back as the stretch stole your breath. He didn’t give you time to adjust, not that you needed it anyway, your body had molded to fit him perfectly, as if you were made for him. He snapped his hips forward again and again, like he wanted to claim every inch of you all over again.
“God, baby,” he groaned against your throat, his voice breaking as your cunt squeezed around him. “So tight... fuck—you’re gonna make me lose it.”
You clawed at his back, desperate and crying out with each thrust. “Yes—oh my God, Eddie—yes—”
You lifted your head just in time to see Venom unfurling his tendrils, as he slid his tongue from his jagged mouth. He spoke with an amused tone. “He gives you cock… but I can make it even better.”
“Not now. You had your fun, now leave us alone—oh fuck—” Eddie stopped mid-sentence, cursing as you clenched around him.
But the alien only chuckled, curling his tongue in the air like a serpent. “I will show her what I can do. We will make it so much better together, Eddie.”
“Jesus Christ,” He pistoned his hips into you harder, battering your cervix every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Don’t—don’t you dare—”
But you couldn’t stop yourself from locking your eyes on Venom’s massive tongue, which was thick and glistening. You ached for it, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of the possibilities of what that tongue could do.
“Eddie…” you clutched his shoulders. “Let him. Please.”
He groaned as if you’d stabbed him, but the way in which you felt him twitching inside you betrayed him. “You’re gonna kill me,” he kept thrusting, lost in the enveloping tight heat of your pussy around his hard member.
Venom didn’t wait for another word of permission. He darted his enormous tongue forward, dragging a stripe up your inner thigh, making you jolt, then gasp, and then clutch Eddie tighter as he slid the wet muscle up to your swollen clit.
“OH FUCK—” you cried out, shaking as Venom flattened his cold tongue against your clit, licking broadly with strokes that made your vision blur.
The sight of Venom devouring your clit as his own cock disappeared into your hole just inches lower, made Eddie growl above you, feeling every shiver and pulse of your body as you squeezed him so tight it almost hurt. He had to admit, watching you unravel like this was divine. You, the same person who’d always been bold, commanding, and in control, were now a trembling and whimpering mess, utterly consumed by pleasure as Venom and he moved in perfect sync.
The symbiote laughed, vibrating against your cunt as he circled your clit with his tongue, flicking it to tease you, then sucking hard enough to make you scream. “She loves it. She is shaking for us. Admit it, Eddie... we make a good team.”
Eddie cursed him and slammed into you deeper, fucking you so hard the bedframe rattled. You couldn’t even respond. You were convulsing under them, Eddie pounding into you deep, Venom lapping and sucking your clit with obscene precision.
Venom swirled his tongue so fast you nearly sobbed. “So sweet… so wet… she loves us both, Eddie.”
You were incoherent, crying nonsense into the air. “I—I can’t—oh my God—”
Eddie kissed you roughly to swallow your moans. “Yes, you can. You’re gonna take it. Gonna let us ruin you together.” His thrusts grew relentless, stretching you deeper and deeper with his cock.
Venom pulled the sensitive nub into his mouth with gentleness so he wouldn’t hurt you with his sharp and pointy teeth. He never once eased up. “She is going insane. Our little temptress is begging to break.”
“Fuckin’ perfect. You’re shaking so bad, baby... so tight... so wet—” He ground his pelvis into you with each thrust, grinding his fat head against that tender spot inside you, making your cunt pulse tight around him, forcing you to rub your clit against Venom’s tongue at the same time he bottomed out inside you.
You could only whimper, you were quivering violently as Eddie’s cock and Venom’s tongue kept you strung tight on the edge, over and over, with no escape. Eddie’s thrusts were deep and brutal, he was splitting you open again and again on his cock, and the way Venom curled his tongue tight around you, squeezing the sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking it into his mouth, made an obscene sound that echoed through the room.
“FUUUCK!” you screamed, jerking up your body off the bed, but Eddie pinned you down instantly, growling into your ear as he pounded harder.
“Yeah, baby—feel that? He’s eating your little pussy while I fuck you full. You’re ours. You hear me? Fuckin’ ours.”
Venom purred, shooting the vibrations through your clit, his fangs glistening as he uncoiled and lashed his tongue across your soaked folds. “So sweet. So messy. She gushes for us.”
You felt it in every frantic thrust of his cock, every desperate growl against your throat. His cock throbbed inside you, swelling, twitching, begging to spill.
“Fuuuck—baby—I’m not—I can’t—” he pressed his slick forehead against yours.
From between your thighs came that guttural chuckle. “Lame. He is already whining. Be a man, Eddie. Hold it.”
Eddie snarled, grinding his teeth, pounding you harder. “Shut the fuck up—”
Venom didn’t stop. He squeezed your clit tight, then pulled back to slap his tongue against it with obscene wet sounds. “You will not finish before her. If you spill now, you are weak. Useless.”
You sobbed under them, thrashing as Venom sucked your clit into his mouth again. Eddie groaned into your neck. “I’m trying... fuck, I’m trying—” He panted. “She feels so good... she’s so tight… squeezin’ me—fuck—”
Venom stretched his grin widely, dripping saliva from his jagged teeth. “Excuses. Do better. Prove you are a man.”
You half-laughed, half-sobbed, clutching Eddie’s shoulders. “Don’t listen—oh God—don’t listen to him, baby—you’re perfect—”
Venom growled in mock offence, slurping your clit so hard your scream ripped the air. “She lies. She wants more. She needs us both. Eddie”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie kept hammering his hips, ramming your g-spot with bruising force. “I’m—fuck—I’m not lettin’ her cum without me—”
Venom was smacking your clit with wet lashes before sucking it back into his mouth like he was trying to swallow it whole. You convulsed violently, clamping your cunt down on Eddie so tight he nearly cried out.
“FUCK! Baby—you’re—oh God—you’re choking my cock—” he groaned, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.
Venom purred. “She is ready. She is going to explode. You better keep up, Eddie.”
“I’m holdin’ it—” Eddie closed his eyes and mentally counted to fifty so he wouldn’t blow too soon. Venom was right, he had to man up, he had to hold it. Prove he could keep up. “I’m holdin’ it, goddamn it—”
Venom pulled back only long enough to taunt Eddie. “For now.” Then he dove back, slurping and devouring you so hard the entire mattress was now a wet puddle.
You were gone, sobbing, trembling violently. “Please—oh my God—please—I can’t—”
Eddie hammered his cock deep, his thrusts getting more and more ragged. “Cum for us. Cum for us now.”
Venom coiled his tongue around your clit one last time, sucking it into his mouth with brutal force, and that was it.
You dig your nails into Eddie’s back. “Eddie—oh my God—Venom! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”
Your orgasm crashed into you like fire setting your entire body alight. You clenched your cunt around him, squeezing him and trying to milk Eddie with violent pulses..
Eddie roared, losing himself, yanking himself off of you, pulling out before the intense twitching of your cunt made him spill too early. He’d learned his lesson before. Many times.
Venom licked your pussy, slurping your arousal as it gushed out, swallowing down the mess he’d helped create. “Good. Very good. She came. You did not completely embarrass yourself, Eddie.”
Eddie collapsed on top of you, sweaty and trembling, groaning weakly into your neck. “Go…fuck…yourself…”
Venom chuckled as he flicked his tongue over your overstimulated clit just to make you whimper again. “Not necessary. I have you both.”
You stroked Eddie’s damp hair back, laughing breathlessly even through the aftershocks. “Don’t listen to him, baby… You were perfect. So fucking perfect.”
“She means us, Eddie.”
And with the way you still shook under them, Eddie couldn’t argue. He suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making you squeal as he dragged your hips up, keeping your ass in the air, and pressing your face into the mattress.
“Needed to see this view,” he spread your asscheeks with his big hands, and then slammed his cock back inside you without any warning. The wet stretch of your used and overstimulated cunt made you cry out.
“EDDIE—fuck—”
He bent over you, pressing his chest into your back. “So fucking good from behind… watching this tight little pussy swallow me up... Holy fuck—”
His thrusts grew relentless and brutal, each snap of his hips got you digging your nails into the sheets, as the waves of pleasure tore through you again and again. You couldn’t help but wonder, was this how sex was supposed to feel for the rest of your life with Eddie? Endless climaxes, each one more intense than the last, a pleasure so intense it made you cry out. And… did you just think about spending forever with him? A lifetime together? Fuck, maybe you did love him too.
Venom kept his wide and white eyes focused on the place where your body and Eddie’s were joining. “Beautiful. But incomplete.”
Eddie froze for a moment, groaning through gritted teeth. “You’re still here. Of course.”
Venom slithered his hulking form closer, unfurling his tendril with a wicked smile. “You are already in her pussy. But she still has another hole.”
You clenched hard around Eddie’s cock at the suggestion, and he cursed, dropping his head against your shoulder. “Baby—fuck—don’t even—”
“Yes,” you said before he could argue more, turning your head to meet Eddie’s wild eyes. “Let him, Eddie. Please. Please. I want it.”
Eddie twitched inside you at your words, torn between his jealousy, fueled by the insecurity that maybe Venom was indeed superior, and maybe you'd come to realise you didn't need him anymore, and also the pure lust in your voice, which made him want to fulfil every single one of your fantasies. “Christ, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me…”
Venom purred. “Wise choice.”
He slid a slick tendril between your ass cheeks, circling your tight hole teasingly. You jerked at the touch, moaning and burying your face in the pillow as Eddie resumed his thrusts, angrier, as though trying to prove something.
“Don’t—fuckin’—forget—I’m the one inside you,” he fucked you deep, slamming his cock into your g-spot with every thrust.
You could barely answer, too lost in the sensation of his cock and Venom pressing his appendage firmer against your ass, slowly working the tight ring of muscle until it slipped just barely inside.
“OH GOD—” you clenched your entire body around both intrusions in your body, a loud cry leaving your throat.
Venom pushed his tendril deeper, twisting it as he toyed with your ass. “Tight. Hungry. She loves it. Admit it, Eddie... you love it too.”
Eddie pistoned harder, and it made you son into the mattress, clamping violently around him while the symbiote curled his tendril inside your ass, stretching you in ways that made your vision go white.
Venom slithered out another appendage from Eddie’s back, stretching it until he circled your entire body, pressing the the tip of it against your pussy. He flicked out the tendril, rubbing your clit while he kept burying the other one up in your ass, thrusting it slowly.
“Fucking—hell. You’re—Shit, baby—you’re stuffed so full—”
You babbled incoherently, shaking, with both of your holes filled and used. While Venom massaged your clit in little circles, he also twisted the tendril inside your ass. You were trapped between both of them, and you didn’t want out.
“She is breaking. Two holes filled. Soon… she will beg for more.”
You could hear the slapping from Eddie’s heavy balls against you with every brutal thrust, and feel every push and twist of Venom on your ass. All of it only fueled you more, making you clench down on Eddie’s cock even tighter.
“Jesus—fuck, baby—you’re so tight—you’re choking me—” Eddie gave you erratic but merciless thrusts.
Venom filled the room with purrs full of satisfaction as he kept toying with your pussy like he wanted to devour you. “Perfect little holes. Stuffed full. She’s dripping, Eddie. She’s ours.”
Your scream tore from your throat, and you clawed at the sheets, shaking from too much pleasure. You were full, stretched, fucked in both holes, so stimulated you couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Please—oh God—please, I can’t—”
Eddie growled in your ear. “Yes, you can. You’re gonna cum for us. You’re gonna cum so fucking hard—”
The rhythm destroyed you. You screamed Eddie’s and Venom’s names as your climax took over your body, fluttering around his cock so violently Eddie roared, slamming deep one last time, and spilling his hot and thick seed inside you, trembling with the force of his release.
Venom didn’t stop, he kept working you with his appendages, milking every last spasm from your shaking body. “Yes. Cum for us. Break for us. You are perfect like this. Our little temptress.”
Eddie collapsed over you, covered in sweat, still buried inside your pussy, feeling it it spasming around him. “Christ—baby—I can’t—fuck—I can’t move—”
Venom finally pulled back, sliding his tendril from your ass with a wet pop. “Weak. But effective. She came. You came. Acceptable.”
Eddie was too wrecked to argue. You laughed weakly through the aftershocks, stroking his arm softly. “Don’t listen to him, baby… You were perfect.”
Venom stretched his grin wider. “She means us, Eddie. WE were perfect.”
And with the way your body was still trembling, stuffed full and leaking, Eddie didn’t have the strength to disagree.
“Pathetic. Both of you are puddles. Look at you—limbs like wet noodles. Couldn’t fight off a kitten right now.”
You let out a broken laugh, reaching up to stroke Eddie’s damp hair where it stuck to his forehead. “He’s right. We’re wrecked.”
“Yeah, great, just what I wanted to hear,” Eddie rolled off you, collapsing onto his back beside you, throwing one arm over his eyes.
“I made her scream louder. My tongue made her twitch like that.” He sounded like a little kid about to stick out his tongue at Eddie to mock him.
Eddie’s insecurities crept in, uninvited. What if you preferred Venom? What if the day came when you only wanted the symbiote, and not him? He couldn’t blame you, after all, Venom had superhuman strength, tendrils that could stretch however he wanted, and that tongue… Eddie couldn’t compete against that. The alien could go all night, never tiring, while he, human and flawed, needed a protein shake after fifteen minutes of doggy. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear that he might never measure up.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie dragged his hands down his face. “Can you not—just for once—just shut the hell up about it?”
You rolled onto your side to face him, brushing your fingers over his stubbled cheek. “Hey… don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get all in your head,” you said softly, nudging his arm away so you could look into his tired eyes. “Don’t start thinking he’s better. That’s not what this is.”
Eddie looked away. “He just—he’s got these tricks. Tentacles. That freaking tongue. And I’m just—” He sighed, slumping his shoulders. “I’m just a guy.”
Venom leaned closer to his ear. “Very well done, Eddie. The first step is acceptance. You’re a sweaty, weak, messy little guy. It’s a miracle she still lets you put it in her.”
You smacked Eddie’s chest lightly, earning a half-laugh, half-groan from him. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t get it.”
“Doesn’t get what?” Eddie whispered, still avoiding your eyes.
“That you’re all I need,” you pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another to his cheek. “You’re all I want. Venom’s just… extra,” you looked at Venom before he could protest. “Good extra,” You clarified before looking back at Eddie, pressing your forehead against his. “But you, Eddie… you’re mine. You make me feel good. You did from the first night. And I don’t want to change you. Not one bit.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, finally daring to glance at you. The insecurity there cracked your heart a little.
“Yeah?” he rasped. The way you said it,so convinced, so soft, so certain… he believed you. He saw it in your eyes, the honesty, the weight of your words wrapped in sincerity.
“Yeah,” you promised, kissing him slowly and lingering, until he sighed into your mouth and melted against you. “We’re all a team. I make you two feel good, Venom makes us both feel good, and you make us feel good too.”
Venom gagged loudly, mimicking throwing up, lolling his tongue as if he’d just tasted something gross. “Disgusting. Sickening. Lovebirds. Get a room.”
Eddie broke the kiss to snort, finally cracking a small grin. “We are in a room, you asshole.”
You laughed, nuzzling into Eddie’s chest, drawing lazy shapes over his ribs with your fingers. “Ignore him. Just stay here with me.”
Eddie wrapped his arm around you tight, pulling you flush against him, brushing your hair with his lips. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Venom muttered another jab, his voice full with mock disgust. “Ugh. You’re both so wrecked you’ll be useless tomorrow. Pathetic meat sacks.”
You tilted your head, looking up at Eddie. His eyes were half-lidded, his hair damp, his mouth soft and kiss-swollen. He looked so vulnerable and exposed, it made your chest ache.
“Eddie…” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, but he shifted, humming like he was listening with full attention. You swallowed, feeling the nerves curling in your belly, but then you just said it. “I love you.”
For a second, he froze, like his brain hadn’t caught up with what you said. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And then it hit him with full force. His face broke open into this wide, almost boyish smile, his eyes going bright and wet. You loved him too. You were saying it loud and clear. And you weren’t just saying it, you actually meant it.
“You—” his voice cracked, he laughed like he couldn’t believe it, and then he grabbed your face in his big, shaking hands and kissed you so hard your lips tingled. “You love me,” he whispered against your mouth. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” you whispered. “I just… I couldn’t deny it any longer.”
He groaned, pulling you into his chest, crushing you in a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air out of you. He buried his nose in your hair, his breath shaky and rough. “Jesus Christ, baby, you don’t know what that does to me.”
Venom’s growl was loud and irritated. His floating head, suspended by the writhing black goo that spilled from Eddie’s back, hovered in front of you both, studying you with pure disgust. “You two are revolting. Too much sugar. I will vomit.”
You laughed into Eddie’s neck, but Eddie just shook his head, still smiling like a fool, kissing your temple, your cheek, anywhere he could reach. “Ignore him. Don’t stop, please. Just—God, I needed to hear that.”
Venom huffed. “You wanted so bad for her to love you back. You’re weak.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, still holding you like he’d never let go. “Yeah, so what? She does. She loves me. And I love her. So go sulk somewhere else.”
Venom made more exaggerated gagging noises. “Now what? Marriage? Babies? Because Eddie always wanted babies. He dreams of little humans running around.”
Eddie stiffened instantly, his cheeks going red. “Jesus, V, can you not—”
You pulled back just enough to see his face, shooting your eyebrows up, tugging a grin on your lips. “You want kids?”
Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, looking awayl. “Not—not like right now. Just… someday. It’s not a big deal.”
Venom, enthusastic about embarrassing Eddie a little more, just kept going. “He thinks about it more than you think. Pathetic little fantasies. White picket fence. Babies drooling on his shirt. You baking in the kitchen. Domestic Eddie.”
“Shut up!” Eddie’s face was now red as a tomato. He looked back at you, nervous, fumbling. “It’s—don’t listen to him, okay? It’s just—it crossed my mind. That’s all.”
The way you smiled so softly made his heart clench. You cupped his cheek, kissed him slowly, gently, full of all the love you had. “Eddie…” you whispered against his lips, “you’re all I want. Whatever we do, whatever comes… I’m with you.”
His eyes shone, and his breath was shaky as he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was memorizing it.
Venom made gagging noises. “I hate this. I hate both of you.”
Eddie broke the kiss just to laugh. “He just wants you to say you love him too.”
You looked at the symbiote for a moment, “I love you too, V. Don’t get jealous.”
Venom let out a pleased growl that made the bed vibrate, but he soon tried to cover it with a cough, pretending to act unfazed. “Whatever. Yeah. Thanks. You too.”
You could feel the way Eddie relaxed his body even as he grumbled, like everything he ever wanted had finally settled into place. That girl… the same one who’d once taken his phone charger and rewarded him with a blowjob, was now curled against his chest. She was the one he loved, the one he imagined a future with, the one who made every broken day worth it.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He didn’t mean just you saying I love you back. He meant everything: your laughter, your presence, the way your eyes lit up at the smallest things. He’d waited his whole life for a connection like this, for this kind of intensity, for a love so pure it made the world feel lighter, even in the darkest corners.
You rested your hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the way it slowly began to beat more steadily, calmer. “I meant it. I’ll keep meaning it every day.”
Before Eddie could get all teary again, Venom cut in with his usual flair. “Boring. Love confessions, cuddles, sweaty bodies sticking together. Enough. Let us think about something new.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course Venom had to ruin the romantic moment. “Here we go.”
“Yes. New adventures. What is next for us? We have conquered the bedroom. The kitchen. The shower. We have destroyed one mattress already. This is the beginning. We need a change of scenery.”
You chuckled into Eddie’s chest. You’d never imagined, in a million lifetimes, to have this kind of pillowtalk. “What do you suggest, V?”
The alien hummed, as if thinking for a moment. “The beach. I want to see the ocean. Feel the wind in my hair. The sand on my feet. The seagulls. We will eat them.”
Eddie sighed from the absurdity of the request. One he’d heard many times already. “For Christ’s sake, you can’t, you don’t have fe—”
“I will feel it. And I’ll eat the seagulls. They are loud and stupid. But also, romantic! We will sit in the sand. Watch the sun set, do all those cheesy couple things Eddie likes.”
You laughed so hard imagining Venom with a beach hat and a pair of sunglasses, that Eddie’s chest shook with you. “He wants a beach date.”
“No,” Eddie said firmly, pointing at his face with one threatening finger. “We are not going on a beach date with you third-wheeling.”
“Third-wheeling?” He barked, as if insulted. “I am the wheels. Without me, you are nothing. Without me, you fall over.”
You bit back a giggle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind the beach. Just us… and him.”
“You’re enabling him.” Eddie run his hand down his face, he already knew he had no way out of it.
“She loves me too,” He declared smugly. “It’s time you accept it’s the three of us, forever.”
You smirked against Eddie’s skin. “I guess he’s right.”
A contented rumble vibrated from the alien. “Then it’s settled. The beach. We will swim. We will eat ice cream. We will build sandcastles. We will… bury Eddie in the sand. And then…” He locked his gaze on you. “…it will be just you and me.”
“Over my dead body,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head from side to side.
You tipped your chin up, kissing him sweetly. “C’mon, baby. Could be fun. Not the part where you’re buried in the sand, obviously.”
Eddie sighed, but you noticed the twitching in the corners of his mouth betraying him. “Fine. But I swear to God, if he eats a seagull in front of you—”
“I make no promises.”
Your laughter filled the room, and even Eddie chuckled, shaking his head, pressing his lips to your temple. For the first time in a long time, everything felt light. You had Eddie’s arms around you, Venom’s ridiculous commentary, and a whole world waiting outside. Maybe Venom was right. This was just the beginning.
Updates account
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read the series and supported me through it, you don’t know how much it means to read every single comment🥺
I honestly had low expectations writing for Eddie since he was the least-voted option on a poll I made, so I was really surprised (and grateful!) for how much love these fics got. I hope you enjoyed the series, and thank you for sticking around. I know it took me a while to finish it, and some people might’ve forgotten about it, but I really wanted to give them some kind of ending.
And a special thank you to @lafrancak for reading this last part and giving me suggestions, I appreciate it so much🩷
Also, it’s not just Eddie, Venom, and reader who are going to the beach, I’m going to Punta Cana this Saturday for a week😺 I’m finishing some of the fics I’ve been working on, so even if I won’t be super active here, I might still have something to post while I’m on vacation.
dividers by: @uzmacchiato
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