summary: Eddie Munson is your good friend and study buddy for sociology. when he mistakes the novel you're reading for your sociology textbook, you get a more...hands on approach to learning about power dynamics.
wc: 7.2k
order up: college!au, friends to lovers, d/s dynamics, jealousy, confessions
tw: explicit smut, p in v unprotected, d/s dynamics, use of petnames [princess, sweetheart, baby, honey, guys a whole mess of honorifics], spanking, eddie eats pussy because of course he does, ropeplay mention
a/n: hi hi hi, i have so many eddie requests in my inbox and while he isn't my brainrot rn, i really hope you guys enjoy this one because i loved writing it.
masterlist
Your dorm room felt smaller during midterms.
Books everywhere. Highlighters bleeding through thin pages. Half-drunk cans of cola sweating onto your desk because you kept forgetting they existed.
Eddie Munson was sprawled across the floor on his stomach, boots kicked off, rings tapping idly against his soda can as he flipped through his notes.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said for the third time, pushing his hair out of his face. “The professor literally said the theme was power dynamics. That’s, like, my whole brand.”
You shot him a look from your desk chair. “It's not a campaign metaphor, Munson.”
“Everything is a campaign metaphor,” he countered.
There was a comfortable rhythm to this.
You quizzing him. Him derailing you.
It was easy, being like this. Friends who studied together. Friends who argued about symbolism. Friends who definitely did not think too hard about the way the other stuck his tongue out a little when he concentrated.
Eddie groaned dramatically and rolled onto his back. “I need a different book. The one with the red tabs. It’s on your bed, I think.”
Your stomach dropped.
Because yes, there was a book with red tabs on your bed.
But it was not the sociology textbook.
It was tucked half beneath your comforter, face-down, like it had tried to hide itself at the last second. Black cover. Embossed lettering. A very intentional ropework design worked into cover in a way that was… not subtle.
You opened your mouth.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Eddie was already on his feet, crossing the room in three lazy steps, reaching down to grab the book from your bed before you could physically launch yourself at him to stop it. His fingers curled around the spine, and he lifted it casually, flipping it over—
—and froze.
"This is... not your sociology textbook." He says, eyes wide as he flips through the pages.
Your blood ran cold. It was a specific, visceral feeling, like an ice cube sliding down your spine.
Everything faded to a dull roar in your ears. The only thing that existed was Eddie, standing there, holding the single most damning object you owned.
He didn’t flip through it with shock or disgust. There was no theatrical recoil. Instead, his thumb brushed against the pages with a strange, focused curiosity. His eyes, wide and dark, weren't judging; they were reading. Absorbing.
He finally looked up, but not at you. His gaze landed on the open textbook on your desk, red tabs that marked actual academics and not fantasies.
A slow, disarming smile started at the corner of his mouth, one that you’d seen a hundred times after a good roll of the D20.
“Y’know,” he said, his voice a low, conspiratorial rumble that felt like it vibrated right through the floorboards. “This… is a much more practical application of power dynamics than our textbooks.”
Your throat was dry.
"Thats not funny, Eddie." You turn, face red. "Give it back."
He tilted his head, studying your blush as intently as he'd studied the book. He didn't move to give it back.
"I promise you, my porn stash is way more embarrassing than this." He waved the book around a little. "At least yours has literary merit."
"It's not porn!" you shot back, your voice a little too loud in the small space. "It's research!"
The excuse sounded flimsy even to your own ears.
Eddie's smile widened. "Research," he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. "For what? Your dissertation on rope burns?"
He was teasing you, but it wasn't cruel. It was… interested. He wasn't making fun of you. He was engaging. He held the book out, not quite close enough for you to snatch back.
"This shit isn't even accurate," he said, tapping a page. "This is all showmanship. They forgot the most important part."
You blinked, confusion warring with humiliation. "What part?"
"The conversation." His eyes met yours, and for a second, the teasing faded. There was something serious there. Something intense but inherently safe.
"Well, the conversation isn't the sexy part." You mutter.
"Oh so you're admitting it's porn now?" He smirks and you narrow your eyes. "And also... the conversation is definitely the sexy part," he added, stepping closer. "It's the whole point."
You held your ground, even though every instinct screamed at you to snatch the book, throw him out, and crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity. Instead, you lifted your chin. "You think so?"
"I'm well versed, yeah."
He finally lowered the book, setting it down on your desk, on top of your sociology textbook. The juxtaposition was dizzying. Academia and anarchy. Theory and practice.
He took another step into your personal space. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of the joint he smoked outside.
"I'm going to guess you haven't put this into practice yet," he said softly.
You couldn't answer. The lie was stuck in your throat. Because he was right. The book, the fantasies—they'd always been in your head. A private world.
A world he had just stumbled into.
"So tell me," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, looking you directly in the eye. "Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?"
He waited.
And the silence that followed was the loudest thing you'd ever heard.
His question hung in the air between you, shimmering and dangerous.
Is it something you only like in fiction or would you like to learn it for real?
It was a test. A doorway. A chance to step out of the theory and into the practice.
"I mean, I don't exactly have a partner to, you know..." Your hands flew up in a vague, helpless gesture. "It's not like I can just walk into a bar and ask 'Hey, any of you guys into safe, effective, and nonjudgmental bondage?'"
The joke landed weakly, but Eddie didn't laugh. He just watched you, like a predator assessing prey. He leaned against your desk, crossing his arms, the casual posture doing nothing to hide the focus in his gaze. He picked up the book again, not to mock you this time, but to flip to a specific, dog-eared page.
"Okay," he said, tapping the pages of a sex scene you had clearly marked with interest. "This, for example. The rope work is all wrong for this position. It would cut off circulation after five minutes."
You blinked. "You... you know about ropes?"
He shrugged. "I have hobbies. Guitar isn't my only practical area of expertise." He met your eyes again.
"I guess that makes sense for your whole... look." You gesture vaguely at him.
That one does make him laugh a little. "Yeah sure the whole aesthetic probably doesn't hurt." He smirks at you, eyes scanning over you again. "But the look is just a bonus. Not a guarantee. I know people who are vanilla as hell who dress like me. And I know people who would put this whole book to shame who wear polo shirts."
You think about that for a second, mulling it over as he speaks again.
"Do you like my 'look' or something? You getting off on the thought of me being the one tying you up?" He teases you, but it's not a joke, not really. It's a question.
The question hung there, an invitation wrapped in a dare. Your cheeks burned, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.
"Okay, light teasing was fine but don't purposely be an ass about this." You warn him, the bite in your words making him raise an eyebrow. "And... yeah. The thought occurred once or twice. I'm not blind." The admission felt like ripping off a band-aid—painful, but necessary.
Something shifted in Eddie's expression. His smirk was softer, like he didn't expect you to admit it. He let it hang in the air for a beat, savoring the victory.
"Once or twice, huh?" he mused. "That's... nice."
He set the book down again, this time closing it. The conversation was moving on, past the fantasy and into reality.
He sits on your bed, not like he usually does where he's just sprawled out with no care in the world. This was different. He sat close to the edge, leaving a space between you, but the air crackled with new possibilities. He rested his hands on his knees, a position that was open, non-threatening, but still completely in control.
"I've thought about it like, way more than once or twice honestly. I've thought about what it would be like with you. So, like, if you want to try some things, or even just talk about them, I'm more than willing to be your partner in crime."
You couldn't speak, but he continued.
"Unless, you know, you'd rather ask that guy from your history class. What's his name? Mark? The one who looks like he was grown in a lab to sell minivans."
"Mark is just my project partner." You roll your eyes. "He's literally been here once to study."
"You laugh at his jokes a lot in the dining hall." He shoots back. "I've seen it."
You had no comeback for that. Because he'd noticed. And you had laughed. But Mark's jokes were safe. They were about midterms and dining hall food. Eddie's jokes were about things that made your stomach flip.
"Okay, that doesn't mean I want to jump his bones. And even if I did, which I don't, how is that even rele--"
It hits you then
"You're jealous." You say it out loud, a statement, not a question.
Eddie didn't flinch. He didn't deny it.
He just shrugged again, that infuriatingly casual gesture that meant everything and nothing.
"I'm territorial about things that interest me," he said simply.
You were no longer just a study partner.
"Look. We've been friends for a while. You know me. You know I'm not a creep. We can just… talk. No touching, no ropes, nothin'. Just words. We lay it all out. Boundaries. What you're curious about. What's an absolute hard 'no'." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering again. "Safe words. Pet names. the whole deal."
He was laying out a curriculum. A syllabus for your most private, secret class. And the professor was the guy who made fun of your D&D character for being too lawful good.
"This is insane," you whispered, the words feeling like bubbles in your chest.
"Is it?" He stood up and walked to your door, closing it and twisting the lock.
"Eddie... what if I say yes?"
He paused, his back to you for a second, before turning around. He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets.
"Then the real research begins." He gave you a small, genuine smile. "But only if you say the word."
The choice was yours.
"Okay." The word was barely a whisper.
He pushed off the door and walked back toward you, gesturing at your bed. "Okay. Rule one. Sit."
You carefully moved from your desk chair and sat on the bed, your back ramrod straight, perched on the very edge of the comforter like it might give way beneath you.
He sat down, leaving a careful foot of space between you. The mattress dipped with his weight, pulling you closer.
"You're tense as all hell, princess. Relax." The pet name was new. It wasn't teasing. It was... grounding.
You tried to unclench your shoulders.
"Let's start easy. Your safe word. It needs to be something you'll remember even if your brain is all fuzzy. Not something you'd normally say during sex. 'No' and 'stop' can be part of the scene. Your safe word is what makes the scene stop. No questions asked."
"Scene? That's so formal. So..."
"It's practical," he corrected gently. "It keeps things from getting messy. So. What'll it be?"
You thought for a moment, your mind racing. "Dragonfruit." It was stupid, random. No one would ever shout it accidentally.
A slow grin spread across Eddie's face. "Dragonfruit. I love it. Okay. That's ours. If you say it, we stop. Everything."
He shifted a little closer, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
"Is there anything you like to be called? Or don't like?" He says, more seriously now. "Some people like being called a slut or a whore. Some people like 'good girl'. Some people hate it. There is no right answer, it's all about you."
The directness of the question made your breath catch. "Good girl," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with heat. "I don't think I'm ready for degradation yet..."
Part of you was worried saying that like you'd dissapoint him or something. but he just nodded, like you'd given him a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Alright. 'Good girl' it is. We can save the other stuff for an advanced class." The wink he threw you was both a joke and a promise.
"What about you?" you found yourself asking.
He seemed surprised by the question for a second. "Oh, well, I guess I'm pretty fine with most things. I mean, you could probably call me an asshole and I'd still like it cause it was your voice."
He said it so casually, as if he were discussing his favorite brand of guitar strings, and not the thought of you moaning for him.
"I liked when you called me princess..." You admit. "You could call me that."
"Princess," he repeated, the word soft on his tongue. "I can do that."
He was so close now. You could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
"Okay, new question..." Those big eyes drag down your figure. "Can you come sit on my lap? I want you closer."
He wasn't just asking a question about a hypothetical scenario anymore. This was real. This was happening.
Your body obeyed before your brain could catch up. You slid across the small space between you, the comforter a whisper under your knees, and settled yourself onto his lap.
His big hands went to your waist automatically, steadying you. He was warm, solid. You could feel the worn denim of his jeans against the thin material of your leggings.
"Alright. First lesson." His breath was warm against your ear, making you shiver. "Power isn't about force. It's about control. My control, your surrender."
You nod, mentally taking notes and he smiles before leaning into to whisper in your ear.
"You can always say no." He says gently. "Right now, to me. You can say 'no, Eddie, I don't want to sit on your lap' and I'll let you go, no questions asked. This is still a conversation."
"I know." You say, a little breathless.
"But you aren't going to say that, are you? No... you want this."
"I do."
"Good girl." The words were a low rumble you felt straight between your legs. "I'm going to put my hands on your thighs now. Just to hold you. Alright?"
You could only manage a small nod.
You could feel the weight of his rings through your leggings.
"Looking so pretty, all for me." He whispers and you lean into him, your head falling to rest on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You trusted him. You'd known him for years. He was safe.
This was what he meant, about the conversation. Every touch was a question. Every reaction, an answer.
"Are you going to be good for me?" He asks.
"Y-yeah," you manage. "I'll be good."
His grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction.
"I know you will." He nosed at your neck. "Now, hands behind your back. Let me hold them."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You swallowed, your throat tight, and slowly, deliberately, you moved your arms behind you, lacing your fingers together at the small of your back. The position pushed your chest out, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, incredibly exposed.
He made a soft, satisfied sound.
"Always like it when you wear a low cut top like this." He admits. His hands slid from your thighs to your back, covering your clasped hands with one of his own. The gesture was light, not restrictive, but it felt impossibly final.
His other hand came up to trace the neckline of your shirt, a single finger grazing your collarbone, then dipping lower, following the curve of your breast. He didn't grab, didn't grope. He just… explored. Mapping the territory.
"Your heart's beating so fast," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I can feel it."
You couldn't answer. All your focus was on the path of his finger as it drifted to the peak of your breast, circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra.
"Responsive little thing, aren't you sweetheart?" He teases.
He circles it a few times, making you squirm on his lap and you can already feel the hard length of him through your layers of clothes. The evidence of his own desire.
His other hand still holds your wrists.
"You like your nipples played with? I know you're sensitive." He asks and you nod again. "Let's see more of these pretty tits."
He doesn't ask to take your shirt off. He just does.
He expertly pulls the shirt over your head in one fluid motion, momentarily freeing your hands before he catches them again, this time pressing them more firmly into the small of your back. He then goes for the clasp of your bra and he undoes that too, pulling it down your arms until you're topless for him.
"Look at that." He whispers and it's the most turned on you've ever heard him.
He runs his thumb over the pebbled flesh of your nipple, and your breath hitches. The calloused pad of his thumb created a delicious friction, a direct line of heat pooling in your core.
"I'm going to pinch," he warned, his voice a dark promise. "Just a little. To see how you like it."
You tensed in anticipation.
He didn't make you wait long. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying a slow, deliberate pressure. A sharp, surprising jolt of pleasure-pain shot through you, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.
"Good," he rasped. "You like that."
It wasn't a question. He read your body as easily as he read the tabbed pages of your sociology textbook.
He keeps pinching and playing as he trails soft kisses from your collarbones and lower, purposefully avoiding where you want his mouth. He was kissing all around your breasts, teasing you with featherlight touches until you're squirming and whining.
"Shh, be patient." He whispers against the skin of your breast. "I'll get there."
He does it again to the other breast. The pinch, the pleasure, the feeling of being completely at his mercy. He was testing you, seeing what made you gasp, what made you squirm. And you were arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.
He finally lowered his head, taking one peaked nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before grazing it lightly with his teeth.
The whimper that left you was undignified. Needy.
He pulled back, releasing you with a soft 'pop'. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with an emotion you'd never seen directed at you before. Possessiveness. Pride. Awe.
"Look what you do to me," he murmured, one of his hands releasing yours to guide your own down, pressing it flat against the hard bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.
"You're going to have to take care of that later, aren't you?" He says, pushing your hips down a little, making you grind against him.
The friction was obscene, a delicious drag through the layers of clothing that sent sparks skittering up your spine. You did it again, a little more boldly, rocking yourself against the rigid length of him. A groan rumbled in his chest, a purely male, primal sound of appreciation.
"Not yet," he said, his grip on your waist tightening, stopping your movements. "That's a reward. And you haven't earned it yet."
He shifted you slightly, adjusting your position so you could feel him more acutely, a perfect, infuriating pressure against your clothed core. His free hand drifted down to the waistband of your leggings. His fingers toyed with the elastic, a casual touch that made your entire body clench with anticipation.
"You're soaked through already, aren't you, princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it. All this fuss just from me playing with your pretty tits."
"Is that weird?" You ask, a little nervous now.
"Not at all. It's perfect." He says gently. "It means your body is honest. It tells the truth. And right now, your body is telling me how much you want this."
His fingers dipped below the waistband, not touching you where you craved it most, but just resting against the soft skin there.
"We could stop right now," he offered, his tone maddeningly level. "We can stop anytime you want. We can just put your shirt back on, order a pizza, and fail our sociology midterm together. All you have to do is say one word. Do you remember our word?"
"Dragonfruit," you whispered, testing it on your tongue. It felt foreign, distant. Not what you wanted at all.
"Now, tell me what you do want."
You took a shaky breath. "I want you to touch me."
"Touch you where? You have to use your words."
Every nerve ending was on fire. "My... I want you to touch me between my legs."
"Good girl."
He finally moved, his hand sliding further down, past the damp cotton of your underwear, through your slick folds. He didn't rush, exploring you with a surgeon's precision.
"This pussy is so fucking wet for me, princess." He breathes out in awe.
He found your clit with an unnerving ease, a single finger circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You jolted, a sharp inhale of pleasure.
"Right there?" he asked, feigning innocence.
You could only nod, your head falling back against his shoulder as he continued his slow, torturous circles. He was drawing it out, making you feel every spark, every tremor. You were wound so tight, a trembling knot of need.
Your hips began to move of their own accord, chasing the friction, the building pressure. But he stopped you again, holding you still with a firm grip.
"Uh-uh. My pace," he chided softly. "You don't get to finish until I say you can."
A whimper escaped your lips, a sound of pure frustration.
"Patience," he murmured, kissing your temple.
You notice now, that he hasn't kissed your lips, but you don't make a comment on it, too busy feeling everything else to care.
He was a master of this, a conductor of your pleasure. He varied the pressure, the speed, watching your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you whine. He slipped a finger inside you, then a second, curling them upward to stroke that spot that made your vision blur.
"You think I should let you come soon?" he asked, his voice a dark, intimate rumble. "You've been so good for me. Sitting still. Taking what I give you."
"Please," you begged, the word ripped from you. "Eddie, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me finish."
He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "Since you asked so nicely."
He increased the pressure on your clit, the circles becoming faster, more demanding. His fingers inside you stroked with renewed purpose. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"That's it, sweetheart. Let go. Soak my fucking hand." he commanded.
You were cumming by the time he said 'let go', your body convulsing in a blinding wave of pleasure. You cried out, your back arching, your hands still trapped behind you, leaving you nothing to hold onto but him. He held you through it, his movements slowing, gentling, as you shuddered and trembled.
When you were riding out the after shocks he released your hands, letting you decide where to put them. You immediately brought them around to his shoulders, clinging to him. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, catching your breath.
His hands came up to your back, stroking you slowly, grounding you. He whispered sweet nothings against your hair, words of praise and affection.
"I know that wasn't as extreme as what your little book had, but trust needs to be built up slowly for things like that." He says softly, kissing your shoulder. "We'll get there.
You could feel the rapid, steady beat of his heart against your cheek. You could still feel the hard press of his arousal against you, a silent testament to his own restraint.
"Eddie..." you whispered, your voice hoarse. "You didn't..."
He shushed you, a finger gently tilting your chin up. "Hey. it's okay. Tonight was about you. About learning you."
You looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen from where he'd been kissing your skin, and his eyes were dark and soft and full of an emotion that made your chest ache.
Without thinking, you leaned in and finally, finally kissed him.
He didn't move at first and you pulled back quickly, suddenly feeling stupid.
Was kissing not okay in this arrangement?
Did he only want the physical part?
Did he even like you like that?
Before you could speak, he did it first.
"Hey you, don't look like that. It's not what you think." He says gently.
"I- I just thought..."
"I know what you thought. And it's okay. I wanted to kiss you. More than anything."
"So why didn't you?" You ask, not in an accusatory tone, but a genuinely curious one.
"Because if I kissed you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wouldn't have been able to handle it if this was just a one-time thing. Or if this was just about sex. I wouldn't have been able to control myself, and we might not be here right now."
This confession was so raw, so vulnerable. It was more intimate than anything you'd done.
"So... what is this then?" You ask, your heart pounding.
"It's whatever you want it to be." He says honestly. "But I want it to be something. Something real."
You lean in again, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away.
He didn't.
He met you halfway, his lips finally claiming yours. It wasn't a kiss of frenzy or desperation. His hands cupped your face, holding you tenderly, as if you were something precious. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of you, of the cola he'd been drinking hours ago. He kissed you slowly, deeply, a conversation without words.
When you finally parted, you were both breathless.
"Do you still want me to do something about..." You trail off, letting your eyes flick down to the very prominent problem in his pants.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. "Princess, you have no idea how much I want that. But I also want to do this right. So... right now, nothing too demanding, just let me fuck your brains out?"
You laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made your whole body feel lighter.
"You're an idiot."
"You know what?" He says with a teasing smile, before flipping you so he was hovering over you on the bed. "I like it better when you're on your back, anyway."
He made quick work of your leggings and underwear, tossing them aside. He stood up to strip off his own clothes, and you watched him, your gaze hungry. You'd seen him shirtless before, at the lake, at a party, but this was different.
The chain around his neck rested in the dip of his collarbone. His chest was lean, a smattering of dark hair trailing down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. He was all sharp angles and wiry strength. And as he pulled down his boxers, your breath hitched.
"You want this huh? This is what you were grinding against earlier?" He smirks. He was long and thick, flushed with arousal, curving up towards his stomach.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself between your legs.
"Take what you want," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Your hand trembled as you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him. He was hot and heavy in your palm as you guided him to your entrance, and he pushed forward, just the head breaching you.
A shared gasp. You were so wet, so ready for him, but the stretch was still intense, a delicious burn.
"Oh, good girl, you listen so fucking well," he praised, before sliding the rest of the way home with one slow, deep thrust.
He filled you completely, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Fuck," he breathed, burying his face in your neck. "You feel better than I ever imagined."
He started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Every drag of his cock against your inner walls was a fresh wave of pleasure. This was different from the sharp, focused intensity from before. This was a deep, all-consuming fire.
"Look at me," he demanded, pulling back just enough to see your face. "Hold on to the headboard."
You obeyed, your hands finding the cool metal bars of your headboard, as he began to move again. This new angle let him hit that spot inside you with every thrust, making your toes curl. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was claiming you. Marking you from the inside out.
"Who's making you feel this good?" he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster.
"You are," you moaned, your knuckles white where you gripped the headboard.
"Whose cock makes you feel this good?" He asks, a dark look in his eyes.
"Yours," you gasped, the words torn from you. "Only yours, Eddie."
"Fuck yes, it does." He says, a smirk on his face. "Not some loser from the dining hall." He speeds up a little, getting cocky. "Not your project partner. You wanna know who knows exactly what to do with you? Me." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust and you can't help but arch your back.
"You're mine now, sweetheart. This pussy is mine to use." His voice is a rough possessive rasp as he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. "Gimme a color, princess. Are we green?"
You were so far gone, but you knew what he was asking. "Green," you moaned. "So green, Eddie."
He smiled, a triumphant, feral grin. "Good girl. You want me to keep talking like this, honey? You want me to tell you how I'm going to fuck you every day after our study sessions from now on? How I'm going to bend you over that desk until you're screaming my name?"
"Yes," you whined, a desperate, needy sound. "Please."
"Then I guess I'll have to do it." His hips began to piston faster, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat. "Would you like that, sweetheart? To be my good little girl? To cum whenever I say?"
"I would," you cried out. "God, I would."
He brought a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. He didn't circle it this time. He pressed down, hard, in direct counterpoint to his thrusts.
"Cum for me," he commanded. "All over my cock."
Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming. You screamed his name, a raw, ragged sound, as you convulsed around him, your body spasming with the force of your release.
"Mmm, gonna wake up the whole dorm." He praised. "Such a good fucking girl." He kept thrusting through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him.
He pulled out and kissed you softly, the kiss slow and deep as you shook under him. You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and insistent.
"You still haven't..." You begin, trailing off again as you try and catch your breath.
"I haven't bent you over the desk yet." He grins, before he pulls you up from your comfortable spot on your back.
His hands were on you instantly, guiding you to your feet and then turning you, walking you the few steps to your desk. He swept his arm across it, the textbook with the red tabs, a stack of flashcards—all of it clattering to the floor in a mess of academic debris.
His lips are kissing by your ear as he speaks, caging you in from behind. "You need me to get a condom?" He asks, and you are a little surprised by the question.
"I'm on the pill." You say quickly, and he makes a happy humming sound, kissing the back of your neck.
"Perfect." He whispers, before he's pressing your chest flat against the desk. The cool wood was a shock against your heated skin.
"Think you can handle a little more for me, baby?" He asked, his hands stroking over your ass.
You nod, your face turned to the side, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood.
"Use your words."
"Yes," you breathe out. "I can handle more."
He doesn't enter you right away. Instead, he kneels, spreading your cheeks, and you feel the hot, wet shock of his tongue against your pussy. He licks a long, slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, groaning at the taste.
"Fuck, you're delicious," he murmurs, before diving back in.
He was relentless, eating you out with a single-minded focus that left you trembling. He alternated between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and pointed, targeted flicks against your clit.
His hands grip at the fat of your ass as he eats you out like a man starved, and you can't help but push your hips back against him. He eats it until your legs are shaking and you're whining for him to stop. When he does, he stands up, his chest heaving.
He pauses and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You glance behind you to see him taking the rings off his right hand, leaning over your back to put them on the desk as he places small kisses on your back.
"What are you..."
Your whisper turns into a whine when a callous palm hits your ass cheek. Not hard, but enough that you gasp at the suddenness.
He shushes you gently, rubbing the reddening mark. "Just a little color for my pretty girl." He murmurs. "You like that? Just a little sting?"
You nod, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and confusion.
"Words, baby." He reminds you.
"Y-yes. I like it."
He spanks you again, this one harder, and you feel the jolt of it deep in your core. He alternates between spanking you and rubbing the tender skin, until you're a quivering, whimpering mess.
Another smack and you don't even register when he lines himself up with your entrance, and glides in, slick and easy, bottoming out with a deep groan. The angle was different, deeper, and it made you feel utterly possessed.
He set a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. One of his hands grabs your face as he leans over to kiss you.
"Taste how fucking sweet you are?" He whispers against your lips. You're nodding dumbly as he continues to fuck you, tongue licking into your mouth.
His other hand slides around your body, finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. It was too much, too intense, and you tried to squirm away.
"Uh-uh. You take it," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
"Take everything I give you, princess." He was praising you, his words stoking the fire in your belly. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasms, every drag of his cock against your walls a fresh wave of pleasure.
"Please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.
More? Faster? For it to never end?
"I know, I know." He cooed at you. "Good girls like you need to be fucked until they can't think straight."
You clenched around him, and he grunted, his rhythm faltering for a second.
"Yeah, you like me saying that, don't you? You like being my good girl." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust that makes you see stars.
Your clit was throbbing under his thumb, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Your body was a live wire, humming with a frantic, desperate energy.
"Gonna cum," you sobbed, the words barely intelligible. "Eddie, I'm gonna cum."
He pressed you down more against the desk, his hips snapping faster, harder. He leans over your back so you can feel the sweat from his chest on your skin as he speaks right into your ear.
"Come on," he urged, his voice rough with strain. "Cum for me. One. More. Fucking. Time."
You whined out, needier than ever, as your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down on him. Your legs gave out, and you would have collapsed to the floor if he hadn't been holding you up, pinning you to the desk.
He gathered your hair in one of his hands, pulling your head back slightly, the angle new and dizzying as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. This let him see your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. He looked wild, untamed, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"That's it, baby. Milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl." He moans as he starts to lose the steady rhythm. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate.
"Gonna fill you up," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "Mark this pretty little pussy as mine."
With a final, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, and you felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside you. He stayed there for a long moment, his forehead resting against your back, both of you breathing heavily, trying to come back to earth.
His hand in your hair changed from a grip to soothing stokes
His fingers danced up your body from their ruthless attack of your clit, to splay across your stomach. You feel him press gently. He was still inside of you. Softening, but still present.
"You okay?" he murmured against your spine, the words muffled by his soft kisses to your skin.
You managed a weak nod, not trusting your voice.
He laughed softly, the vibration traveling through you. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
He slowly pulled out, and the emptiness you felt was acute. You could feel his release begin to trickle down your thigh, a sticky, intimate reminder of what you'd just done.
He helped you to the bed, tugging you back into his arms. You both were sweaty, sticky, and your room was a mess. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You curled into his side, your head on his chest. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart was a comforting anchor in the haze of satiation.
His hands never stopped caressing through your hair.
He was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
"So," he said, his voice quiet. "Is the reality better than the book?"
You thought about it for a second. The book was theory. This was practice. This was real.
"I thought you said you weren't done with me?" You manage, weakly.
He just pulls his head back enough to get a proper look at your face, the most genuine smile accentuated by his dimples.
"Yeah, the aftercare. The cuddles. The praise. That's all part of it." He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Being the one who has to clean up our mess."
He sits up, leaning over the side of the bed to grab the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier. He carefully, almost reverently, began to clean you up. The cotton was soft against your sensitive skin.
"You're so good at that," You say softly, referring to the entire night, but more specifically the way he was taking care of you.
"Yeah? Well I'm a man of many talents." He teases, but the way he's looking at you is soft.
He's gentle, methodical, as he wipes away the evidence of your night together. Once he's satisfied, he tosses the shirt aside and pulls the comforter over both of you, cocooning you in the warmth of the small bed.
You're quiet for a long time again. Just listening to each other breathe.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hm?"
"About the kiss earlier..." he started, his voice a little hesitant. "When I said I didn't know if I could handle it if this was just a one-time thing... I meant it."
He shifts a little, so he's looking you in the eye. "This was never gonna be just a one-time thing for me. You have to know that. I've been wanting this for so long."
You are looking up at him in the dim light of your desk lamp. He's looking at you with a unguarded expression that you'd never seen from him before.
"You really have? I thought... I thought this was just... you know, because of the book."
He let out a small, breathy laugh. "Sweetheart, the book was just a convenient excuse. A cosmic sign from the universe to finally do something about the massive, soul-crushing crush I've had on you since we were assigned as lab partners in freshman chemistry."
His signature smirk reappeared then.
"The fact that you're also into the same filthy shit I am? That's just a very, very lucky bonus."
You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"So, what now?" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.
"Now I get to enjoy this body being all soft in my arms." He says, kissing your forehead. "Now I get to wake up next to you and make you breakfast. Now I get to walk you to our sociology class and sit next to you knowing exactly what you sound like when you orgasm."
He pulls you closer. "And now I get to tell you that I want to be your boyfriend. If you'll have me."
You tilt your head up to look at him, a slow, genuine smile spreading across your face.
"I'll have you," you said simply.
"Oh, no enthusiasm for the man who made you cum three times in an hour?" He teases gently. You just lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet.
"I think you fucked all the enthusiasm out of me." You mumble against his lips.
He chuckles, satisfied and proud.
"It's a skill." He smirks. "But don't worry. I'm a great teacher. We'll build up your stamina." He winks, and you feel a fresh wave of heat wash over you.
He pulls you to his chest, safe and warm. You could get used to this.
"Next time," he whispers against your hair. "Next time I'll bring my ropes."
You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'll hold you to that."
He held you tighter, a silent promise. The night wasn't over. Your time exploring each other, it seemed, had really just begun.
Summary: Eddie’s got some new stompers he needs to break in and a girlfriend who behaves like a needy whore. Two birds; one stone.
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, boot riding, dirty talk, condescension, masturbation (m), dacryphilia, slight dom/sub dynamics, name calling (one use of slut), hair pulling, facial, cum play, humiliation, begging, sexual punishment
A/N: The way this was supposed to be a little blurb…. Ghost ‘Shut the Fuck Up’ Challenge: IMPOSSIBLE. Brought to you by me and this anon mind melding.
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Desperation sinks low in your gut, unfurling down into your core. Heat, desire, want—they cling to you like smoke against skin, seeping in and marking you in his scent.
Your hips squirm against taut leather, panties soaked and smearing wet streaks into the darkening black. Air races to leave your lungs after every drag, to and fro.
“Y’look so pretty like this, baby,” Eddie coos, gently brushing a thumb along your hairline.
You shiver at the affection. It comes so easily from his calloused hands and his sweet words. Condescension and awe, battling it out in the rasping catch of his voice.
“Mmm, gotta say—think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever looked…”
Blackened lashes creep into your vision from above, your chin is tipped high and your undulating hips threaten to send your eyes rolling all the way back.
But you can’t look away. No matter how many times your clit brushes against his woven laces, no matter how many times you crumble under the sparks of pleasure burning in the depths of you.
No, you have to watch. To be good. To maybe earn a better place than beneath him—
Beneath his cock. Beneath his stuttering hips and languid strokes.
Your eyelids grow heavy as you focus on the precum leaking from his thick, ruddy tip. Ragged breaths draw your jaw open, and you paw at his legs, like your eager grip could bring him into reach.
A particularly mind numbing grind of your hips has your tongue lolling out of your mouth. That one drop—
You can’t stop watching it—
His chuckle echoes in your mind, you feel the light taps he gives your cheek, but you won’t be swayed.
That delicious dribble is about to drop, and you’ve got your mouth wide open for it—
“That’s cute, honey,” he laughs, swiping your salvation away with his thumb…like it means nothing—
Like you’re not actively dying for just a taste.
Sealing your fate, he rumbles, “But I don’t think so.”
He has so much, why can’t you have just this one thing?
You don’t mean for it to happen, but tears spring to your eyes.
He’s kept you beneath him for twenty minutes now, lazily stroking his cock and choking the base when his eyes begin to roll. It’s pure torture. Every time you rut faster, he tells you to slow down. Every time you feel those sparks catch fire, he warns, “Be good.”
As if you haven’t been perfect for him.
As if you haven’t done every last thing he’s asked.
“You want my cock?” he asked.
“Yes,” you said.
“No, lemme hear you say it. Wanna hear those dirty words, angel.”
You paused, but you did it.
“Wan’ your cock, Eds, please,” you whimpered.
“Alright, baby— But first, can you do something for me? Something very important,” he purred, and you promised him anything.
And when he told you to break in his new boots, you only hesitated for a second.
Just a second.
But maybe it was the look in your eyes—
You’re not sure what he saw, but he wasn’t pleased—you know that.
This is your punishment.
Doomed to spend all eternity on the precipice of deliverance, while your savior watches and laughs. And mocks. And—
“Oh, baby. You always get so worked up, huh?” He focuses at the ridge of his cock head, twisting and teasing, squeezing until his slit is pulsing and weeping.
You nod, unsure whether pleasure or anguish is to blame for the frown lines marring your features.
“You’re so cute when you cry for my cock. Got such a nice face, makes me just wanna paint it.” The words sharpen against his bared teeth—a threat woven deep in tempestuous desire. His hips buck at a particularly gratifying flick of his wrist, then, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
It rings in your ear like an accusation, leaving you shaking and whimpering. It’s not untrue. That’s the worst part. Because he knows you—he knows you’ll plead and plead until he gives in. Until there’s perfect clarity who you belong to. Until you wear his mark.
You hum, nodding your head with a sniffle. And for a moment, you wonder if you truly just saw what you think you saw. If his jeering exterior really did lapse with a whisper of sympathy—a glimmer of affection in his eyes.
But then—
“Keep fuckin’ workin’, baby. Want these boots nice and covered in you—fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he groans, the grin of a hungry apex predator corroding his once-sweet features.
So you tremble and grind, flinch and whine under the stimulation shocking your nerves. You don’t stop. Not when his rhythm devolves into desperate, jerking motions. Not when your helpless cries reverberate against the trailer walls, sounding louder and louder in your own ears. You don’t stop, not even when his sharp words become dull as they struggle to slice through the fuzzy static in your head.
“Oh god,” you wail, your body stiffening, curling in on itself uncontrollably. Forehead pressed to his legs, nails sinking into jean-clad thighs, you become a victim to your self-inflicted pleasure.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Eddie bites out, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling…hard. Hard enough that you’re forced to look up at him once more. Forced to witness his undoing.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ watch what you do to me, baby. ‘S is what happens when you get all cock drunk and teary-eyed on me.”
Possessed, he fucks his fist desperately. His fiery gaze never leaves your face, like he’s picturing his target.
“Say you wan’ it, angel. Say you wan’ my cum all over your pretty face,” he orders, tightening his hold on your hair.
The world is blurry as you stare at his cock—throbbing and leaking, nearly choking under his unforgiving grip. Your thighs are burning and you just want to be freed. To be released from your punishment and hopefully take your rightful place back in his good graces. So you force the words through ragged breaths.
“W-Wan’ it—oh, god!” Those damn laces. “Please—please, please, please, gimme your cum! Need it, Eddie, please!”
He grunts, then clicks his tongue. “That’s not what I told you to say, now is it? Goin’ off script, huh?”
His tone is calm, but his words nick your skin as they pour over you. A thousand little razorblades carving their disappointment.
“I-I’m sorry, Ed-die—unh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rush out, the words spinning around your empty brain like a broken record as your clit pulses, catching on every crease and curve of his boot. “W-What—what did—”
“Beg me to paint your pretty face,” he orders again, silencing your question with a yank to your hair.
“Cum on my face! Please—please, cum on my face—oh, god!” you cry out, uncontrollably trembling as you teeter on the edge of nothing and everything.
His cock twitches in his hand like a threat, but he chokes the base in a white-knuckled grip. “Ah, fuck, you’re so cute when you act like a slut—but you’re missin’ one word. Wanna hear you say it.”
You heave as another sob brings a fresh wave of tears. Helplessness numbs your mind—or maybe it’s the wet heat deep in your core. Either way, you can’t seem to understand the game he’s playing. It doesn’t quite feel fair, though, you know those are his favorite types of games. The ones where, no matter if you win or lose, he always gets the prize in the end.
“I don’t know—please, just tell me,” you strain, indifferent to how pitiful you must look to him. “I’ll do anything—I’ll say anything, please just—”
“I told you to beg me to cum on your pretty face. Now I wanna hear that,” he states slowly, yet impatiently.
Heat creeps up your neck, but you’re in no position to yield to it.
“Please, Eddie, cum on my pretty face.” You all but mutter the words, unable to stop the way your voice dips, like your subconscious mind is still looking out for you, saving you from humiliation.
Eddie pulls your head closer, bringing you a matter of inches away from his cock. The motion is like a shock to your system, sending you plummeting to a new low of desperation—of humiliation. Your mouth drops open as you stretch impossibly closer—careful not to lift or slow your hips—tongue lolling out once more.
“What was that?” he huffs, tilting his head with the weight of condescension. “Couldn’t hear you, baby. What’d you say?”
His cruelty triggers a kind of brainless need that turns your racing heartbeat into a ticking time bomb as you grind down on him, unable to run from the ecstasy any longer. “Shit—ah! Please, cum on my pretty face! Fucking cum on my pretty face, Eddie-unh!”
His name echoes from your mouth, like it’s the only thing in this reality your mind can cling to. Everything else just melds together as your body trembles weakly, twitching frenziedly.
“Oh, fuck, sweetheart— Yeah, I’ll paint your pretty face for you,” he grits out; the salacious promise shattering on heaving breaths. He bucks his hips, haphazardly adjusting your head.
The first spurt of cum lands on your cheek like a shot, the sudden warmth making you flinch. But his grip on your hair leaves you little room to move. Eyes closed, you sit beneath him, low and boneless, muscles burning and sparking like a livewire as rope after rope of his spend coats your face, mixing with your tears of relief.
“Shit, baby,” he breathes, squeezing the head of his sated cock until the very last bead of cum rolls out. Then he drags the tip against your parted lips, spreading the rivulet on soft skin. “Fuck, y’did so good for me. This is all you, sweetheart. All of this is for you.”
You sniffle, slowly opening your eyes to find pure adoration in his, and you let yourself lean into his gentle caress, his thumb swiping through the mess he made.
“W-Was I good?” you ask, needing to hear the praise again and again.
“So good,” he promises, “So pretty and sweet. Said you look best like this.”
You whimper, stuttering breaths wracking through your chest as you try to come down, hugging his legs like a lifeline. He continues to inspect his hard work, seemingly relishing mixing his cum with your tears. You continue to let him. It’s the prize for the game you still have yet to win.
A/N: Please, please, please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this. Finding motivation to write has been hard with life happening as it is, but seeing people enjoy and appreciate my work and the time I put into writing makes all the effort worth it :) <3 Love y'all, smooches to you and yours <3
Tag List: @meetmeatyourworst @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction
I’ve had this one written and queued for like a month now lol. Hope yall ready for a long one (pun intended 😏)
The club is a sensory nightmare for Ghost. Bodies everywhere, bass thundering through the air and into Ghost's chest, light cutting in blue shards through a fog machine. Too many sightlines, not enough cover. He leans against the bar, arms crossed, nursing a whiskey that had gone lukewarm twenty minutes ago while his eyes tracked movements through the crowd for potential threats.
Then there was Soap.
Ghost hadn't wanted to be at the club but after a bad op, Soap had insisted the two of them go out to feel human again. The Scotsman moved through the dance floor, all loose-limbed confidence and that bloody smile that had got him out of more trouble than it should. Ghost watched him work the crowd, watched him laugh at something a blonde had said before spinning away, always moving, always-
He stopped.
You appeared in Soap's orbit like gravity had shifted and Ghost's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass. He didn't know you, hadn't seen you before, but Soap clearly had no such reservations. The sergeant's grin went sharp and interested as you moved closer, your body swaying to the beat.
"Fuck," Ghost muttered into his mask.
You started dancing with Soap, or, maybe on him was more accurate. Your hips rolled against his in a way that made Ghost's jaw clench. Soap's hands found your waist, then your hips, grinding you back against him as you both moved to the music. Then you arched, head falling back against Soap's shoulder, the column of your throat exposed to strobing lights...
Ghost should look away.
He didn't.
Soap caught his eye over you shoulder and the bastard had the audacity to wink. Then he was murmuring something in your ear, and you turned, following Soap's gaze until you locked eyes with Ghost across the crowded floor.
The smile you gave him was dangerous and Ghost felt his throat go dry.
Soap tugged you through the crowd, and Ghost straightened, suddenly very aware of how his heart had kicked up beneath his shirt. They emerged from the press of bodies, Soap still moving to the music, still holding onto you.
"LT!" Soap had to shout over the music. "Look what I found!"
You turned that smile on Ghost, swaying your hips. "Your friend doesn't dance?"
"Ghost dinnae do much o’ anythin’ fun," Soap said, but his eyes were bright with challenge. "Bit o’ a statue, this one."
"That's a shame." You stepped closer, close enough that Ghost could smell your perfume over the club's haze of smoke and sweat. "I think he wants to, though."
Ghost's eyes narrowed. "That right?"
"Mhm," You reached out, fingertips grazing his forearm. "Just needs the right incentive."
Soap moved behind you, hands on your hips again, chin hooking over your shoulders as he grinned at Ghost. "Come on, LT. Live a little."
It was the combination of your eyes on him, Soap's challenge, and the heat under his collar that made Ghost abandon his post at the bar. He moved into your space and you lit up like he'd given you exact what you wanted.
The three of you found a rhythm, something slower than the frenetic energy around you. You faced Ghost, back pressed to Soap's chest, creating a line of heat between them with you in the center. Ghost's hands settled on your waist, thumbs brushing a strip of skin where your shirt had ridden up.
Soap's hands covered his, pressing them more firmly against you as your rolled your hips. The movement brought you flush against Ghost and he exhaled hard through his nose.
Ghost couldn't respond, too focused on the way you were moving, the way Soap's hands slid up from your waist to your ribcage, hand brushing the underside of your breasts through your shirt. You gasped, the sound somehow audible enough over the music, and Ghost felt it in his cock.
You reached up, one hand sliding into Soap's mohawk, the other curling around the back of Ghost's neck, pulling them both closer. The position arched you between them, and when you ground down, Ghost felt his cock thicken while Soap groaned behind you.
"Fuck, bonnie," Soap's voice was rough. His hands grew bolder, one splaying across your stomach, the other sliding up to cup your breast as he mouthed at your neck. "Yer perfect like this."
Ghost watched Soap's hand move, watched your lips part on a moan, and something hot and possessive unfurled in his chest. His grip on your waist tightened, holding you steady as Soap worked you over, as you writhed between them.
The song changed, something darker and heavier, and you turned your head, catching Soap's mouth in a kiss that Ghost could see was all tongue and teeth. Soap's hand slid lower, fingers dipping just beneath your waistband and you whimpered into his mouth.
Ghost's vision tunneled. The club, the crowd- all of it fell away except for this, the three of you moving together.
When you finally broke away from Soap, gasping for air, your eyes found Ghost. They were dark, pupils blown wide, and your lips were swollen from Soap's attention.
"Need a drink," Ghost bit out, because he needed distance before he did something monumentally stupid like kissing you in the middle of this club.
"Aye, good idea," Soap was breathless. "We'll grab a booth."
Ghost nodded once and extracted himself, pushing himself through the crowd and back to the bar. He could still feel the ghost of your body against his, still smell your perfume. He ordered three whiskeys and tried to get his head straight.
When he returned to the booth ten minutes later, drinks in hand, he wasn't surprised by what he found.
Soap had pulled you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips, his hands under your shirt, rucking it up as you kissed him like you were trying to crawl into his skin. Soap was grinding you down onto his lap, hips rolling, and Ghost could hear you whimper as the hard line of his bulge ground against your cunt. Ghost's mouth went dry.
He slid into the booth beside you, setting the drinks down with a thunk that neither of your noticed.
You were making small, desperate sounds into Soap's mouth, hands fisted into his shirt, and Soap- bloody hell- was filthy about it. Hands gripping your ass, controlling the movements, making you ride him through your clothes as he groaned in encouragement.
"That's it," Soap panted. "Just like that. Fuck yer gonna make me- "
You pulled back, breathing hard, your lipstick smeared across both your mouth and Soap's. Your eyes were glazed, chest heaving, and then you turned your head and looked at Ghost.
He stared back, content to watch, to let Soap have this. But then you leaned over and your mouth pressed against his mask, right where his lips would be beneath the fabric.
Ghost felt it everywhere.
His hand came up, cupping the back of your head, holding you there as his eyes went dark behind the mask. The want that had been simmering all night ignited into something dangerous.
"Bonnie," Soap's voice was strained. "Don't tease th’ lieutenant unless ye mean it."
You pulled back just enough to whisper. "I mean it."
Ghost's thumb stroked over your cheekbone. "Then we're leaving."
"Yer place or mine?" Soap asked, still grinding you slowly in his lap, unable to stop touching you.
Ghost's eyes never left yours. "Mine. It's closer."
You shivered between them and Ghost felt the moment your weight shifted, pressing more firmly towards him.
"Yeah," you breathed. "Okay."
Soap laughed, burying his face against your neck. "We're fucked, LT. Absolutely fucked."
The cab was a blur of nightlights, Soap a heat at your side, restless hand on your thigh. Ghost is a black star across from you, gaze fixed, breath slow.
Then...
Stairwells. Hall. Door. The click of a deadbolt.
Soap gets there first, greedy, grinning against your mouth as you stumble backwards. Ghost is the counterweight, calm hands at hips, unhooking you on touch at a time. Zipper. Button. The slide of fabric down your spine. Soap keeps your mouth busy while Ghost works, tongue slow and filthy until you're clinging to his shoulders, knees trembling. "Good girl."
The praise lands hot in your belly. Soap hears the sound you make and chuckles, dragging your bra strap down with his teeth. "Aye, like that, do ye?"
"Shut up," Ghost says without heat. His hands frame your ribs under the bra, thumbs skimming the soft at the sides of your breasts, and unhooks you with a single practiced motion, knuckles brushing your shoulders, fingers hot and maddening, and he slides your bra down.
Your spine curves, offering, taking, wanting. No words. Just breath and the kind of low sounds people make when they remember they're animals.
Soap , grinning like the bastard he is, peels your panties down with both hands, and drops to his haunches to see what he's won. "Oh, look at ye," he murmurs reverently, thumb parting you just enough to watch the light catch on your wet cunt. He kisses your hipbone, then lower, one or two little obscene nips that make your hips jerk, and then steps, crowding you forward. "Go on, then LT, show us to yer bedroom."
One hand settles low on your back, heat and pressure, steadying, while the other nudges Soap's shoulder to give ground. He walks you down the hall, eyes on the line of your spine and the set of your shoulders.
His bedroom is clean and dark. He palms the back of your neck and kisses your temple through the mask, a strange warm press that makes your breath hitch. He then steps away to strip: hoodie off, shirt after, the ink on his chest catching the lamplight; belt loose, trousers open. The mask stays. He watches your eyes find it and he tips his head once: not night. Later. Maybe.
Soap is already down to his skin by the time Ghost turns; he unpeels his shirt and drops it, the undercut devil-may-care, scars criss crossing his skin. He gets handsy in the way you've been begging him to since the dancefloor; palming your tits, thumbs brushing against your nipples, grin going feral when you gasp and lean into him. He bends, sucks one into his mouth, teeth just this side of too much, and you moan loud enough to make Ghost's hands flex.
"C'mere," Ghost finally says, voice gone rough. He's on the bed now, sitting back against the headboard, and he reaches you with a calm he doesn't feel. "On me."
Soap guides you, palm at your spine. You crawl up into Ghost's lap, knees astride his thighs, and he settles you there. His hands span your waist, slide up your rib cage, thumbs lifting your breasts so the peaks drag over the lower edge of his mask, nuzzles the fabric over your nipples, breath hot, the rasp of it making you see stars.
"Tease," you breathe, fingers in the elastic at the edge, wishing.
"Earn it," he says, and his hand drops to your waist, rolling you down the length of his cock through his briefs, thick and heavy under the cotton, the drag of it obscene.
You do, God, you do. Rocking, grinding, chasing that friction while Soap climbs on the bed behind you and crowds your back, one hand sliding between your thighs from behind to find you wet and greedy.
"Watch this," he tells Ghost, smug. He rubs your clit slow in mean circles, then slicks two fingers and pushes in to your cunt, knuckle deep with a groan against your shoulder. "Tight wee thing."
Ghost's jaw flexes. He slides a hand under your thighs and opens you wider, tipping your pelvis until Soap's fingers curl and your breath snaps. "There," ghost says, pleased. "Hold that angle."
Soap’s mouth finds the back of your neck, teeth scraping; his free hand palms your breast and rolls the nipple between two fingers while the other hand strokes inside you. Ghost watches your face for the exact moment it goes slack. “There she is,” he murmurs. “Pretty.”
“Need-” you gasp, incoherent for a second when Soap crooks his fingers just right, his thumb catching your clit by accident or design. “Please.”
“Please what?” Ghost asks, dangerous soft.
“Off,” you manage, tugging at his briefs, shameless. “Want you.”
Soap laughs into your skin. “Greedy. Love that.” He eases his fingers out and palms your hip to steady you while Ghost lifts his hips and strips, his cock slapping up against his lower belly, flushed and heavy, slick already from pre that makes your mouth water. He fists himself once, slow.
“Condom?” he asks, defaulting to discipline.
You shake your head, breathless. “On the pill. Clean.”
“Same,” Soap says, wicked and proud. “Tested last month.”
Ghost grunts, the last restraint falling into place as permission. “Lube,” he says, gesturing to the nightstand and Soap’s already got it, slicking his fingers and painting you with a care, circling your clit once to make you stutter, then dragging that slick down, coating you, getting his fingers and your body both ready for the kind of night you’ve all been angling toward since the first look across the club.
“Over him,” Soap orders, delighted to play mouthy second. “Sit nice and slow for the LT.”
Ghost doesn’t need the help, but he lets Soap guide you because you’re smiling, because you’re shaking, because you want the hands. He lines himself up with the blunt head and rests there, heat to heat, then tips your chin so you look at him while he bullies his cock into your cunt.
You sink onto him inch by inch, stretch delicious and awful, a sweet ache that goes bright when your body gives. Ghost holds your hips and holds himself still when you bottom out, the sound he makes wrecked enough to make Soap hiss behind you.
“Good girl,” Ghost says, raw praise like a brand. “Breathe. Look at me.” You do, blinking, smiling, full. He thumbs a stray tear from the corner of your eye and then moves, a slow roll up into you that makes your thighs tremble around him.
Soap’s hand slides down your spine. “Lift,” he coaxes, and when you do he fits behind you, chest to your back, cock hot against your ass, one hand digging under the pillow to fish for the bottle he tossed there on instinct. “We’re gonna be good to ye, aye?”
“Promise,” Ghost says, and you feel the smile under the mask when you choke on a moan.
Soap slicks his fingers again and returns to you from behind, one circling your rim in patient, purposeful passes, the other stroking your clit in counterpoint to Ghost’s thrusts. He keeps the pressure light until your hips stop flinching and start chasing; he presses and you open, your breath going ragged.
“Atta lass,” Soap murmurs, and slides the first finger in.
Your breath shatters; Ghost swears softly, the feel of you clenching around him while Soap opens you. The second finger comes when you moan for it, more slick, more patience, more praise. Ghost’s hand firms at your belly, anchoring you to his cock while Soap works you open, methodical and hungry.
“Good,” Ghost says when he feels the fight leave you, when your body starts to invite. He kisses your jaw through the mask. “You’re doing perfect.”
You tip your hips desperately and Ghost holds you there, rolls, keeps you full while Soap pushes another finger in. That familiar stretch catches, burns, gives, and you keen, nails biting Ghost’s shoulders, tears bright for a second before they turn to laughter on a sob.
Ghost shudders, crushes your hips. “Eyes,” he says, not quite a command, more like a plea. You look. He’s bright and dark at once, pupils blown, jaw tight under the mask, the softest horror at how much he wants you written everywhere he can’t hide. "There."
All that’s left is the first slow set of motions, small rolls to introduce the weight, a greedy slide to confirm the fit, and then the deliberate, inevitable rhythm that makes you forget your own name while two men you met under strobe lights decide every angle of you under a warmer one. Soap’s free hand go everywhere; your tits, your throat, the spot low on your belly where he can feel Ghost move through you. Ghost’s palms never leave you; hip, waist, jaw, your pulse, while he fucks you slow and deep and patient until the begging in your throat turns to instruction without words.
"Christ, feel that?" Ghost's voice saws low under the mask, palms crushing you to him while he grinds in a slow circle that makes your breath skip. "Every time I roll her here- "He does it again, deliberate. "-she flutters around me and squeezes you."
"Aye, she does," Soap groans, forehead to your shoulder, fingers pressing into your lower belly so he can feel it happen. "Tight wee vice. Heat's unreal. You're spoilin' her LT- keep that angle." He tilts your hips a hair with his knuckles and you moan, both men answering with matching, wrecked sounds.
And, like a plan they made ages ago, everything slows and then stops and they both slip free making you whine. Before you can question the loss, Soap is already sliding down the bed, guiding you with warm hands. "On me, bonnie." he coaxes, flat on his back and grinning up at you. Ghost palms your spine and arranges you over his sergeant, lines your cunt up with Soap’s cock, and sinks you down slow onto him.
"Fuck- there she is," Soap whispers when you take him to the root, hands bracketing your waist so he can watch your mouth go pretty for him. "She sits perfect."
Ghost reaches for the lube, slicking his hand. “Mine first,” he says mildly, and you feel his smile more than see it. “You can have whatever’s left.”
“Rude,” Soap mutters cheerfully and then laughs when Ghost’s free hand closes on the back of his neck, lazy and possessive.
“You’ll live.” The bottle chuffs; cold slick kisses the crease below your tailbone. Ghost’s thumb paints it low, patient, indecent. “Breathe.”
You exhale. He circles your rim with one finger, small and sure, the pressure a cue as much as a tease. Your hips try to chase. His hand tightens on your belly again.
“That’s it,” he says. “Let me in.”
Soap keeps you busy at the front, grinding up into you, bullying his cock against the place that shortens your breath while he watches your face like a lit fuse. “Hear him?” he coaxes, accent going soft and dirty. “He’s bein’ nice about it. For now.”
Ghost presses. The slick and Soap’s prep making it easy; he doesn’t take that for granted. One finger seats, then two with time and more lube, careful, unhurried. He tests, curls, waits out each flutter until your body stops arguing and starts asking.
“Good girl,” he says, voice going rough around the edges as your ring gives and his fingers sink to the second knuckle. The praise lands like heat. Soap bites your lower lip and groans when your hips jump into his hand.
“Still,” Ghost says, and Soap goes still as Ghost’s cock nudges slick along your ass smearing lube and gathering your mess as he guides himself, head pushing soft at your opening, the blunt pressure turning to a slow, greedy slide until the stretch catches your breath, a slow seat of thick heat past the ring his fingers taught, a stretch that borders on pain and then isn’t, and then is something worse that you’d die for. The sound you make isn’t pretty, Ghost is thick and the stretch is obscene around both of them. Soap curses and tilts his chin up so he can watch your face as Ghost sinks deeper- one breath, two, Christ- until his hips are snug to you and your body is full in a way that turns the world to radio hiss.
“Look at you,” Soap says, reverent and ruined, pupils blown. “Full o’ us.”
Ghost’s mouth finds the hinge of your jaw through the mask, exhale hot. “There,” he says, pleased like a craftsman admiring his joinery. “Let it settle.”
He holds. That’s the worst best part- time, the quiet, the feel of two pulses thudding in you while your brain climbs back into your body and finds it… changed. Wider. Hotter. Held.
“Good,” Ghost approves, the word a brand and a promise. His hand spreads across your lower belly where Soap sits inside you and presses, feeling the shape of him through your wall. “Breathe round it.”
You do. Soap groans, fists a hand in the sheets, and laughs a little, helpless. “Jesus Mary, she’s squeezin’-”
It’s small at first; no drag, just pressure, the tiniest rock to introduce motion to a system already loaded. Soap keeps still, hands on your hips, mouth on your tongue, a dirty little moan in your mouth when Ghost draws back an inch and pushes in an inch and the sensation ricochets through both of you like a fault line shifting.
“Fuck- ” Soap chokes, eyes squeezed shut a second, then open because he wants to see. “Oh, that’s- right there, lass- Jesus.”
Ghost increases by degrees. He sets a shallow pulse that your body starts to anticipate, a tide, then a stroke, then something that deserves the name fuck. Soap matches on the off beat so you’re always being held by one of them while the other moves, always filled, always ground on. Full and used.
“Breathe,” Ghost reminds you when your lashes flutter. His hand slides from your belly to your throat, warm weight under your jaw, not choking, guiding. “Open your mouth. Good girl.”
“Talk to me,” Soap begs, fretless. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Too much,” you gasp, which is a lie and the truth. “So- good- oh, God- don’t stop.”
“Never,” Soap swears, hips starting a small, helpless lift he tries to rein in, fails, and Ghost lets him because you whimper when they both move together. “Jesus, look at ye- she’s takin’ us- ”
“Eyes,” Ghost says, and you find his in the shadow of the mask, lighter than you expect; brighter; all on you. “That’s it. Show me when you go.”
They change the angle like they planned it. Ghost tilts your chin and your pelvis follows; Soap hooks a hand behind your knee and opens you that fraction more. The head of his cock drags over the spot that empties your lungs. Ghost holds you down on both of them and rocks in tight, ruthless circles that grind that same spot from behind. Your hands scrabble and find, one fumbling for Soap’s hair, the other catching Ghost’s wrist at your throat like a promise.
“Sweetheart,” Ghost says, voice frayed and fond as rope. “Now.”
You come in clenching pulses that they feel with you- Soap’s head thrown back, mouth open in a soundless prayer, Ghost snarling a quiet “fuck me” into your shoulder like he’s surprised at himself. They do something worse: they keep moving through it. Small, disciplined strokes. Lazy circles. Praise. “Good.” “There you go.” “That’s it.”
When you can breathe again, Soap laughs brokenly and pins your waist. “Again,” he says, wrecked. “Want to see ye shake.”
“She can have what she earns,” Ghost says, and his hand leaves your throat to find your clit, two fingers finding a rhythm that turns your bones to wires. “Ride him.”
You do. You shift the work to your thighs and take them, sliding up just enough to feel the drag of both cocks inside you and down just enough to hear them swear in different accents. Your noise is obscene and you couldn’t stop making it if you tried. Soap braces his feet and meets you with tiny upthrusts that punch the breath from you; Ghost pins your hip with one hand and rubs you down with the other, mouth at your ear, voice filth. “Open. That’s it. Take it. Christ, you’re- look at you.”
You’re babbling- names, please, don’t stop, anything- and they’re past talking in full sentences. Soap’s a litany of aye-aye-fuck-aye and good girl and there, God, there. Ghost falls into command and plea mashed together: hold it- take it- yes- open. When you start to shake again, Soap slides a palm under the small of your back and arches you to him, nipples brushing his chest; Ghost spreads his knees wider and anchors you harder to his hips, and the sound you make is new.
“Atta girl,” Soap says, like a prayer and a punchline. “Gimme that.”
You shatter prettier the second time- less panic, more surrender, a long, wrecked noise that turns into laughter and then into tears you didn’t mean to shed. Ghost hisses through his teeth like the sight of it hurts him. He kisses your cheek through the cloth anyway.
Soap breaks first. You feel it: the hitch, the tremble, the way his thighs go iron under yours. “Inside?” he begs, eyes on yours.
“Inside,” you say, shameless, and Ghost’s hand at your throat tightens just enough to make you hear him when he says, “Breathe.”
Soap’s finish is messy and unguarded; he buries his cock to the hilt and holds, thick heat spilling in pulses you can feel around Ghost, around his fingers, everywhere. He groans your name like confession and laughs at himself, wrecked and grateful. Ghost rides you both through it, relentless, rubbing you hard and tight until Soap’s groans turn to helpless noise and you’re whining please like a song.
“Swap,” Ghost orders wearily, and Soap grins up at you, still inside, and nods like a man offered another drink he shouldn’t take. He slips out with a wet slide that makes you both swear. Ghost pulls you off his lap by the hips and hands you down to Soap’s chest, rolling you into missionary without losing his place. Soap’s spent cock drags along your belly and he kisses you, open and dopey.
“Hi,” he says, stupidly happy.
“Hi,” you say, and then Ghost is back, kneeling between your thighs, mask shadow turning his eyes to something you could fall into. He lifts your calves to his shoulders and folds you in half, lining himself up again, slick everywhere now, lube and spit and Soap’s heat- their mess, your mess- and pushes back into your ass in one long, devastating stroke that makes all three of you swear like sailors.
He sets a deep, rolling pace, thrusts that grind you into Soap’s chest with every stroke. Soap palms your tits, pinches your nipples, mouths your jaw and tells you you’re gorgeous and filthy and perfect while his other hand slides down to rub where Ghost’s fingers left you wanting, easy and sure. It’s obscene how fast it builds when they work you like that- one owning your body from the inside, the other owning your focus with his mouth and hands.
“Eyes on me,” Ghost says, and you look. “Give it to me. Now.”
You do. You let the third roll over you and take everything- pressure, heat, the glide of palms and bodies, the weight of them pinning you to the bed and you break with a sob that tastes like relief. Ghost curses, short and vicious, and goes, finally, finally: thrusts turn ragged, hand flattening over your belly like he can pour himself into you and keep it there by will alone. He buries hard, holds, and spends, groan punched into the mask, eyes locked on yours while he comes.
After, it’s quiet and breath and heat and stupid little laughs. Ghost is still for a long, necessary minute, palms braced at your hips like he’s holding you together while you both come down. Soap pets your hair with the mindless devotion of a happy dog, kissing the sweaty corner of your mouth and murmuring nonsense praise into your cheek.
“Water,” Ghost says at last, voice rubbed raw. He eases out slow, careful even now and you make a noise you’ll deny later. He strips the glove off his right hand on the way to the table, tips a bottle to your lips, steady, patient. Soap props you with a forearm and drinks after you, then tips it back to you with a grin.
You all breathe. The AC hums like it’s about to die. Somewhere, the fridge kicks on. In here, there’s only the heat of three bodies and the way it eases.
“You okay?” Ghost asks, not leaving the bed until you nod. His hand is on your knee, thumb drawing idle circles like he’s still timing your pulse.
“Yeah,” you say, voice threadbare and satisfied. “More than okay.”
Ghost huffs a laugh, tips your chin with two fingers, and kisses the corner of your mouth through the cloth- dry, quick, devastating. “You were perfect,” he tells you.
Soap’s grin is feral. “Knew the second I saw ye, you’d like bein’ spoiled.” He kisses your shoulder, then adds, properly sheepish, “Gonna need about… two minutes… then I’ll be a menace again.”
You groan. They laugh. The bed settles under the combined weight of disaster and relief, and you let yourself float in the warm, stupid joy of it.
Hey folks, if you want to fight back against the twitterfication of tumblr USE IT LIKE IT'S TUMBLR!!!!!! REBLOG THINGS!!!!!! USE THE TAGS TO SCREAM AT YOUR FRIENDS!!!!!!!
Nonbinary (she / they) reader x fratboy!Steve x Drugdealer!Eddie
Where Steve was told to take care of you since your brother left, and has been a huge cockblock ever since. So, when Eddie comes along to challenge what it means to “take care” of you, things take an unexpected turn
CW | smut! 18+, 7.3k words, nonbinary reader using she / they pronouns, AFAB, drinking, drug use, modern!college!AU, MMF, gender fluidity, sexual fluidity, light dom!eddie/steve and sub!reader bc it’s me and always lol, “baby” “angel” “sweetheart”, piv, oral f/m , and a little lovey lovey stuff too
AN | I missed writing about my Steddie boys in this way hehe. I hope y'all like I and, as always, comment and rb makes me a happy writer. - Vi
“Chug chug chug chug” the chants are loud as you stare in amazement at the way people can take down alcohol like it’s absolutely nothing. You were never one to handle liquor well, which is why your red cup is filled with water, but no one has to know that.
There’s something about house parties that intrigue you. The frat boys being loud, girls giggling and dancing, kissing and grinding and God knows what drugs floating around the premises. It doesn’t even matter that you’ve all been at this for a few years now, it almost makes it more fun now that you know the crowd and the history that comes with partying in the same circle of University students.
You would’ve never been indoctrinated into this crowd if it wasn’t for Steve.
He’s had your back since you were young. Your older brother, his best friend, Jeremiah made sure of it when he left for the military - a choice you both despised greatly.
Choices are a privilege though, and unless you had good grades for a scholarship like yourself, or rich parents like Steve, college wasn’t always the direct option. Jeremiah was a bit of a burnout in school, taking on the pressure of protecting and taking care of you while forgetting to put himself first. So, the year you were able to move out and go to college, he made Steve swear to look after you in his place.
It was an agreement you were made plenty aware of as Steve consistently made his presence known in your life. He constantly checked in about your grades, making sure you didn’t lose your scholarship, and always made sure you got home safe after these obnoxious parties. Safe, and alone.
That was the annoying part.
It didn’t matter how often you reminded Steve that you were grown now, that you were an adult and smart enough to use protection, he always tried to get in the way of you going home with anyone - especially a guy. He was slightly more lenient with girls, not having the fear of pregnancy halt your education, but he still gave you and them a hard time.
And it’s only gotten worse this year.
Your landlord randomly decided to increase your rent with only a 30 day notice, and it was much more than your scholarship and bookstore job allotted for. Thus, Steve took you into the frat house.
It wasn’t as bad as it may seem. Steve was head of the house and everyone knew you were off limits. It felt like you were living with brothers again…
Your constantly fluctuating gender identity also made for fun conversations with the seemingly heteronormative boys of the house. You had explained many times that you don’t care what pronouns or gender they see you as, and it really confused them when they were attracted to someone they would call “little bro” but had tits.
It was fun.
Steve was defensive and supportive of your exploration. In fact, it made him proud to watch you pull girls almost as well as he could.
Almost.
He’d never admit it, but you were Steve’s sexual awakening in terms of fluidity. He’d always found you attractive, as much as it plagued him, because he knew you were Jeremiah’s little sibling and there was no fucking way he could cross that line.
But as time has passed, the line has gotten more and more blurry.
Every single time he saw you flirting with someone his blood turned hot. Girls, guys, whoever, he had to get in the middle of it. Literally. Sometimes he wished you’d invite him to get in the middle of it.
Fuck.
That time he heard you and that stupid fuckboy down the hall moaning and groaning he lost it. He was supposed to be writing an essay and instead ended up with his dick in his hand picturing you with your mouth around him under the desk.
When he saw the idiot downstairs later he told him if he ever sees him around the house again he’ll knock his teeth out.
And when you asked where he went, Steve told you to stay away from guys like that. When you rolled your eyes and said “Okay Dad,”, he almost bent you over and spanked you right there.
But that would be wrong.
Right?
Anyone with eyes knows that Steve is attractive. It’s no secret why he hailed the title of King. You’ve long ignored the desire every time he walks through the house shirtless, his hair all messed up, his basketball shorts hanging low as he drinks his morning coffee. You’ve also ignored the overperformative whines and moans of the sorority girls he brings back to his room after a night of chaos. You’ve second-guessed if he’s that good or if the girls are just doing the most, but your suspicions are wrong because they always seem to want to come back for more.
It was a dance you both played at constantly on nights like this. Steve would watch you grind with someone as you watched him throw an arm around a girl’s shoulder and whisper shit into her ear.
Tonight, though, you were annoyed. Steve looked too fucking good and it pissed you off that he had the audacity to look your way while his arm was around someone else.
You were on a mission to be an absolute demon. You couldn’t help it - Steve just awakens that in you.
So, as he watched you sip your drink, you purposely spilled some down your front, your white shirt doing nothing to prevent your nipples from peaking out. Braless, of course.
You see the way his eyes dilate and you smirk, turning to the tall boy next to you. “Aw, fuck,” you whine in fake discontent.
“Can you get me a paper towel or something?” You ask the boy next to you, batting your eyelashes as you make eye contact with him.
Your heart skips slightly as you look up at him. He has long curly hair, and the most devious smirk on his face that you’ve ever seen.
He chuckles. “I doubt there’s a paper towel in sight around here sweetheart. Do you want my shirt instead to cover up?”
You falter. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive. Your eyebrows furrow as you scan his face. Eyebrow pierced, tattoos littering his arms, a joint behind one ear and a cigarette behind the other - you recognize him.
“You look so familiar,” you murmur.
He smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’ve definitely sold you drugs before,” he says.
You laugh. “Eddie! Oh my God yes - hi,” you laugh, embarrassed you didn’t recognize him immediately. Has he always been this attractive?
“Hi,” he laughs back, then he takes your hand. “C‘mon let’s go get you cleaned up.”
You let him pull you toward the stairs as you look over your shoulder at Steve, his eyes narrowing in on you. Your cheeks heat up as Eddie pulls you upstairs and down a hallway crowded with people.
He easily navigates the crowd, his grip on you strong as you admire the tattoos that climb up his neck, barely showing above his collar, visible only where his hair isn’t covering from being in a bun.
He opens a door at the left end of the hall and pulls you in quickly, locking the door behind you.
It’s quieter here, but not by much, the bass can be heard through the walls. Eddie immediately makes his way to a dresser, small figurines of some sort and books littered on top that shake as he hurriedly pulls open the top drawer and grabs a shirt.
“Do you have a preference for a Black Sabbath or…a Run DMC shirt?” He laughs, holding up two giant black shirts in front of him.
You look around and spot the half made bed, an electric and acoustic guitar in the corner with a bass and speaker. A small desk with records of all sorts littered next to an old record player, some posters you don’t recognize on the wall by the small blue light next to it. And, of course, a giant bong.
“Wait, this is your room?” You ask the obvious. “I didn’t think you’d be in a frat.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m not - they let me stay here in exchange for drugs,” he explains. “Now put on a shirt,” he says, throwing one of the shirts at you.
You stare at him incredulously, surprised he’s not trying to hit on you literally at all. Honestly, you’re offended.
He’s hot. Like really hot. And you’re in his room, tits poking through your shirt, and rather than hit on you he’s…making you cover up? You make a split decision as Eddie’s eyes stay on you, quickly ripping off your shirt, exposing yourself in front of him.
“Jesus fucking -“ he huffs, turning eyes up toward the ceiling.
“What?” You laugh, slowly putting his shirt on over your head. “You told me to put on your shirt,” you challenge.
His tongue pokes the side of his cheek as he crosses his arms. His eyes roam you up and down. His shirt is way too big, falling past your shorts and landing just above your knees.
You stare back at him, unwavering.
“You’re trouble,” he says, shaking his head.
You raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who brought me up here,” you retort, then decide to lock your place in and sit on the side of his bed.
He keeps his distance.
You’re confused. “Do you not want to…mess around some?” You ask, starting to actually feel hurt by his rejection. He groans and takes a few steps toward you, slotting himself between your legs. You look up at him wide-eyed, tummy churning as he looks down at you with dark eyes.
“I can’t,” he mutters, his hand coming to touch the side of your face gently.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why? Do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or something? I’m sorry I didn’t -“ you start to feel embarrassed, taking his kindness for some sort of innuendo and begin to get off the bed.
But he stops you, his hand finding your shoulder and gently keeping you in your place in the bed.
“No no not like that,” he chuckles nervously.
You pout. “Then why?”
He pets your head. You can see the turmoil he’s fighting in his eyes. He sighs and takes a step back, making you whine. “I promised Harrington I wouldn’t when I found out you were his girl,” he admits.
Your mouth falls open in shock. “His girl???” You laugh incredulously. Of course Steve would still find his way to cockblock you without even being in the room.
You stand up quickly, your blood boiling. “I’m not ‘his girl’,” you declare.
Eddie tries to recover. “Well not ‘his girl’ but you know what I mean,” he replies. You cross your arms over your chest. “No Eddie, I don’t know what you mean. Please enlighten me on what the fuck that could possibly mean.”
There’s a loud banging on the door.
You and Eddie both look toward the door, your heart hammering out of your chest.
“Munson open this fucking door right now I swear to God,” Steve’s voice booms through the barrier.
You’re seething. Absolutely seething. Not only has he tried to stop Eddie from pursuing you, he has the audacity to follow you upstairs???
Eddie groans, his hands running down his face as he faces the door. The door shakes as Steve angrily pounds on it, but you’re not giving in that easily.
You start fake moaning, staring directly at Eddie. “Ungh yeah Eddie, harder Eddie!” You moan loudly, a devilish glint in your eyes as his face glows bright red.
Eddie runs to you, throwing his hand over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” he hushes you, and you giggle, trying to moan through his hand, while also trying not to get turned on by the harsh way he grabs you.
”You’re fucking dead Munson,” Steve yells.
“Steve it’s not-“ Eddie tries to cover, but you keep moaning.
“Then open the FUCKING DOOR,” Steve yells so loudly that you actually get scared for a second. You’ve never heard him yell like that. You freeze in your place as Eddie glares at you and walks to open the door.
Steve bursts in and stares at you, his gaze hot. He eyes you up and down. His blood boils seeing you wear Eddie’s shirt.
“We’re leaving. Now,” Steve commands.
You glare at him and shake your head.
Steve shoots his eyes back at Eddie who slowly shuts the door and locks it again, afraid of anyone else trying to burst in to whatever the fuck is happening. “Did you touch her?” Steve growls at Eddie.
“I swear I was just getting her a shirt,” Eddie explains.
“And instead of getting me and telling me to take them home you bring them UP TO YOUR ROOM?” Steve shouts.
But Eddie’s not having it. “You’re not their fucking keeper,” Eddie spits back.
Steve gets in Eddie’s face. “You don’t know shit about what I am to her,” Steve says, his nose nearly touching Eddie’s.
Adrenaline rushes through you as you know someone is about to throw a punch. You’ve seen Steve fight before but you don’t doubt that Eddie is much scrappier than he is. And there's absolutely no reason they should be fighting over you.
You don’t realize that they have had this conversation in depth before. The first time Eddie sold drugs to you and Steve he was going to hit on you, but Steve made it clear afterwards that you were off limits. Despite every time he ended up at the frat house, hoping he could get a chance with you, Steve’s threats rang clear, and Eddie had too much to lose to get into another pointless fight. But that all starts to dissipate the closer Steve pushes his limits.
“Or maybe I’m my own fucking person,” you say from behind them.
Their heads immediately swivel toward you, both of their stares hot.
“Maybe I wanted Eddie to take me to his room - maybe I wanted him to take care of me,” you challenge.
”Take care of you?” Steve scoffs. “I take care of you.”
You bite your lip as silence fills the space between you three.
Eddie steps toward you, a smirk painting his pink lips as he understands what you meant by your statement. “No Steve,” he says lowly.
”You don’t really take care of them,” Eddie says, his teeth between his lips as he comes to stand in front of you, his height making your head tilt back as your breath gets caught in your throat. Steve’s jaw clenches.
Eddie’s hand finds your jaw, holding your face as your big eyes look up at him, but his attention goes to Steve. “You could, but you don’t,” Eddie challenges.
Steve is silenced as he watches you fall under Eddie’s spell, realizing exactly what he means.
“Isn’t that right angel? Harrington could take care of you but he doesn’t, and then he gets mad when someone like me wants to do it instead,” Eddie murmurs. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whine. Your heart rate picks up rapidly and you nod your head at Eddie, the truth never being more apparent. You hate how Steve always finds a way to get in the middle of you and someone else, but then doesn’t do anything to stop the ache in between your legs himself.
Eddie leans down to your ear and whispers, “Tell him angel. Tell him that you want him to take care of you and he doesn’t.”
You turn your head to look at Steve, Eddie’s hand still cupping your cheek. “It’s true Stevie,” you murmur, your voice soft under the intensity.
Steve steps toward you, his face hot as he takes in what you’re saying. Eddie guides you to sit back on his bed. Steve hurriedly sits next to you on the bed while Eddie stays standing.
“I -“ Steve stutters, his body facing you as he scans your face. “I can’t do that, you know that,” he argues, but his voice is weak and the way his body leans toward you tells you something else.
”Then let Eddie,” you counter.
The curly haired boy chuckles as Steve’s hand curls into a fist on his jeans. “That’s not that I meant baby you know that,” Steve argues. He never calls you “baby”. He’s only done it a handful of times when he’s drunk. You realize the term of endearment may actually show his weakness for you.
“Why Harrington?” Eddie challenges. “Think I can’t do a good job? Because I think you and I both know that’s not true-”
“Eddie - don’t” Steve threatens
”What do you mean?” You ask, suddenly even more confused than before.
Eddie smirks as he stands tall in front of both you and Steve. “You gonna tell her or do you want me to, big boy?”
Your eyes go wide as you look between the two of them. Steve’s jaw clenches as Eddie smirks down at him like a physical embodiment of the devil himself.
“You guys have…?” You ask, surprise and excitement lacing your voice. You didn’t think Eddie could smile any wider, but his ego just keeps it going.
“Mmhhmm,” Eddie mumbles. “Many times,” he confirms.
You look at Steve in shock and hit him on the shoulder. “Why did you never tell me??” You ask as he groans.
“It’s not really your business who I’m fucking,” he argues.
“But apparently it’s your business who IM fucking???” You yell back.
“He’s just jealous because he knows what you’d be getting into,” Eddie laughs.
“This is so not fair,” you say angrily. Not only are you mad that Steve never told you he was bisexual, or heteroflexible or whatever he identifies as, but you’re honestly really fucking turned on by the idea of Eddie and him fucking.
More than once.
Holy shit.
Your face gets hot.
“If anything, Steve, you should trust me more with them because you know from experience that it’ll be good,” Eddie shrugs, his sly smile not leaving his face.
You’re definitely soaking your panties at this point.
“I’m not concerned if it’ll be good you dumbass,” Steve says, shoving Eddie slightly. “I don’t want you to hurt her,” he admits. Your heart swells at his level of protection and care - as annoying as it is, you’ve always appreciated how much he cares about you.
Your pussy, on the other hand, now desperately wants to know just how good Eddie could be.
“I can take it Steve,” you mumble petulantly, your gaze on your lap.
“What was that angel?” Eddie taunts you, his finger coming under your chin to lift your gaze up.
“I said I can take it,” you sigh. “I’m not some delicate flower or a virgin or something.” Your fingers twiddle with one another, feeling more and more shy under the gaze of the two attractive men in front of you.
“You are to me” Steve admits, his brown eyes soft as he looks at you. He’s always seen you as someone he has to protect and care for, whether Jeremiah told him to or not, he was always going to look out for you. He was always going to protect you from guys like himself - and Eddie.
And then you have an idea. Maybe it’s insane - but this whole situation is already insane so before you can think too much about it you decide to just blurt it out.
“What if you watch?” You say quickly, so quickly your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest and fall onto the floor in front of you.
Both boys still.
Eddie’s eyebrows raise.
“What?” Steve asks, stunned by your suggestion.
“I mean,” you stutter. “If you’re so worried about me getting hurt or whatever, and you’ve obviously already been with Eddie so you’ve seen him naked and everything. What if you were here…while it happened?”
Eddie tries to hide his chuckle and Steve shoots him a glare of death. Steve stands up from the bed and keeps his back to you, obviously struggling with your proposed plan.
When silence falls for too long Eddie breaks in, a hand coming to Steve’s shoulder. “You know I’ll take care of her, Harrington,” he reassures him.
Your legs rub together and both boys look at you as a small whine escapes past your lips. This is getting too unbearable, either someone needs to touch you or you need to leave and spend some very important alone time with yourself.
“Look how bad she needs it,” Eddie says to Steve, talking as if you can’t hear.
Steve stares at you. He’s only seen you like this a handful of times, like when sex scenes come on in movies when you’re together, or he sees you flirting with someone else, and he’s always had to excuse himself.
But not this time.
“Desperate for it huh?” Steve asks, his eyes not leaving your body.
You and Eddie both nod. “It would be really mean of you to not let me take care of that for her,” Eddie taunts, making his way to stand just mere steps in front of you. He reaches his hand out and you grab it, pulling so he steps another step forward.
You both look at Steve with pleading eyes.
“Please Stevie,” you beg, your voice barely above a whisper, dripping with need almost as much as your pussy drips with arousal.
And Steve can fucking sense it. Fuck, he can practically taste it with how your needy voice sounds.
“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth.
Your eyes light up as you look up at Eddie, a cheshire smile on his perfect face. Eddie immediately moves to stand in front of you, his crotch in front of your face as he holds your sweet face in his big hands.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Steve sighs, sitting on the desk chair in the corner of the room as his eyes stay transfixed to the sight in front of him.
“Never,” Eddie chuckles, his eyes not leaving yours. You try to move your head up slightly, desperate to kiss those pink lips he’s been licking this whole time.
“Aw,” Eddie teases. “Does somebody want a kiss?”
You whine. “Munson,” Steve warns.
Eddie ignores him. “Say please,” Eddie instructs, his voice teasing.
“Please,” you whisper and, before you have time to comprehend it, Eddie’s connecting his lips with yours, an immediate moan escaping your throat. Eddie’s hands guide your face to move with him, his tongue expertly swiping across your lips before gently finding your own tongue. Your hands reach up to grab Eddie’s wrists, desperate for more contact.
You barely hear it a few feet from you as you continue making out - “Fuck,” Steve exhales.
Eddie chuckles as his hand slips to your throat, grabbing it firmly as you continue to lose yourself in his perfect kissing. He easily pushes you down on the bed, disconnecting your lips much to your dismay.
Eddie slowly sinks to his knees in between your legs. You feel like you must be about to hyperventilate with the way your chest is rising and falling so rapidly. It doesn’t help that just over Eddie’s shoulder you see Steve, seated with his legs wide apart, his mouth gnawing on his fist as his blown out eyes stare at you and Eddie in front of him.
Eddie starts kissing up your bare legs slowly, bringing your attention back to the man in between your legs. He kisses higher and higher, goosebumps raising on your legs as he gets closer to your aching cunt. You instinctively start to lose your legs, but his hands immediately hold them open as he shakes his head.
“I’ve been dying to taste your cunt,” Eddie murmurs against your thighs, making you shiver.
You hear a grunt behind him. “Goddamit Ed,” Steve huffs, his hand palming himself through his jeans, making your head spin at the sight.
“It’s true,” Eddie quips. His hand comes up to your little shorts, his finger pressing right on your clothed center. “Can I take these off angel?” Eddie asks.
“Please,” you whine, your own resolve gone as you long for relief.
Eddie smirks and quickly pulls the little shorts down, smiling at your glistening pussy in front of him. “So pretty,” he mutters before landing a kiss directly onto your clit, immediately making you gasp.
Eddie hums, slowly licking a stripe up your pussy, making your eyes roll back and your head fall onto the bed with a thump. Eddie doesn’t rush, and it’s bliss - the way his tongue circles your clit with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He circles, then licks, then sucks. Circles, licks, sucks, over and over as you mewl above him, your back arching as obscene sounds flow past your lips.
“Does it feel good baby?” Steve asks, his voice laced both with lust and genuine curiosity. He’s worried about his girl.
You gasp as Eddie hits that one spot again and again. “S-so fucking good oh my god,” you moan, your hips bucking to meet Eddie’s pace as you feel an orgasm start to build low in your tummy.
Small groans come from across the room to accompany your moans and Eddie’s wet slurping. It’s a mess, a heavenly mess. “You’re getting close huh baby? I can tell - fuck you look so fucking sexy,” Steve groans.
You can’t see him at this point but just the sound of his voice gets you closer . That mixed with Eddie’s unholy ability to find and hit that sensitive spot over and over and over, you feel like your senses are tingling all over.
“Eddie please don’t stop please,” you beg. He, of course, had no intention to, but your hands in his hair just confirm the exact spot he needs to continue adding pressure to get you to over the edge.
“Don’t fucking stop Ed, make her cum,” Steve demands and Eddie groans into your cunt. The vibration mixed with the dominance in Steve’s voice sends you over the edge. The ball in your stomach comes undone, exploding with the best electricity all up your spine, your back arching off the bed.
You spew a mix of profanities and praise as you ride out your high, your body floating as Eddie slowly comes away from your cunt.
You didn’t even realize your eyes had been closed until you open them because you feel a hand petting your head. “Did so so good baby - fuck,” Steve says from beside you. You look up at him, absolutely blissed out, no thoughts in your head other than how gorgeous he looks beside you.
“Thank you,” you mutter - though to who you’re not sure.
Steve smiles and kisses the top of your head. “Thank Eddie baby, not me,” Steve says, nodding toward the boy wiping his mouth with his own shirt, a wicked grin on his face.
“Thank you Eddie,” you repeat.
Eddie crawls above you on the bed, forcing you and Steve to inch backwards to accommodate for his body. “Anytime, beautiful,” the tattooed boy smiles.
You stare up at him in disbelief - how is he so good with his mouth?
“Wanna taste pretty boy?” Eddie asks, his head turning to Steve’s next to you.
Your eyes widen in shock, but before you can process it, Eddie’s mouth is on Steve’s, the two of them groaning as they taste both you and each other. Watching the boys kiss is both erotic and primal. Their biceps flexing, hard jaws moving quickly as if they can’t get enough of one another. It’s better than you could have ever imagined.
Eddie breaks the kiss, panting as he takes Steve’s jaw in his hand and points his face toward you. He looks beyond perfect, swollen lips and messy hair, his shirt out of place.
But neither of you move as you hold eye contact - it’s too intense, a line you never thought you would be able to cross with him.
“Kiss her, Steve,” Eddie whispers in the other boy’s ear.
Steve starts to lean closer to you as Eddie sits back on his knees, giving you two space.
You’ve never been so close to STeve in your life. You’re practically exchanging breaths, chests touching as he leans toward you.
His hand comes to the side of your face, so gently you can barely feel it.
“Are you sure baby?” he asks.
Your heart melts - you’ve never been more sure of something in your life. “Kiss me Stevie,” you smile, and pull his lips in to meet yours.
It’s better than you could’ve imagined. You taste him and Eddie, and maybe a little bit of yourself as his tongue slides into your mouth. He’s so gentle it’s surprising. There’s no rough force, no intense grabbing, just kissing and holding as if you’re glass he doesn’t want to break.
The kiss only breaks because you gasp as you feel Eddie’s fingers dancing up your thighs again, only to press one digit slowly into your soaked entrance. He curls the tip of it skillfully, making you whine into Steve’s mouth, your grip on his hair tightening. Steve can’t help but look at the way your eyebrows knit together.
“Can you take another sweetheart?” Eddie asks from between your legs, looking at your pussy like it’s art.
Your breath is shaking. “She can take more, I know she can - she’s a good girl, aren’t you baby?” Steve talks you through as Eddie adds another large finger into you, stretching you out as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you.
You lose yourself completely, your eyes struggling to stay open as Eddie hits that spot inside of you over nand over. “H-holy fuck,” you gasp, your eyes screwing shut.
Steve immediately grabs your face, holding the back of your head up so you don’t throw it backwards. “Uh uh, no baby, eyes on me or Eddie,” Steve demands. You do your best to relax into his hold, one of his hands holding your head while the other finds it’s way under your shirt to grab at your tits.
“So fucking wet,” Eddie grunts as he continues his rhythm, laying gentle kisses on your clit as he continues.
“Please can i - can,” you stutter, eyes meeting Steve’s.
“What baby, can you what?” Steve half taunts, making you use words that are escaping you completely.
You reach your hand toward Steve’s clothed bulge, pressing against it to elicit a small groan from him. But he immediately grabs your wrist to stop you. “Ask for what you want,” he instructs and you groan.
Then Eddie stops his movements in your pussy. “WHat?WHat no,” you plead at the loss of sensation.
“Follow instructions and you get what you want,” Eddie teases.
You groan again and whimper, struggling to find the words you need to touch Steve while also being so close to cumming again already. Eddie begins to move away from your legs, making you squirm.
“Ccan I please touch you Steve please,” you beg.
Eddie immediately sinks back between your legs and pushes his fingers back inside of you as Steve smiles.
“Of course honey, see that wasn’t so hard,” Steve mocks you. He takes off his shirt and discards of it somewhere in a corner of the room, then his jeans are quick to follow, leaving him bare to you.
Your mouth gapes at the sight of him. “Now you know why they call him King Steve,” Eddie laughs at your expression.
And it’s true. He’s huge.
And thick.
Steve rolls his eyes, but guides your hand to wrap around his cock, your fingers not full enclosing around the girth. The simplest touch makes Steve throw his head back as he stays on his knees by your head, your smaller hand taking over stroking him.
Eddie continues his work on your cunt, and every time he kisses your clit while pumping in and out of you, you get closer to the edge again.
That mixed with the sight of Steve’s dick mere inches from your face has you absolutely wrecked.
You open your mouth, panting like a dog wanting to taste Steve. He chuckles above you and slowly guides his pink tip past your lips, immediately groaning as you lick and suck on it while our hand holds the rest of him.
Eddie adds in to the moans between your legs as he strokes his own dick at the sight in front of him. Quite literally the two hottest people he’s ever seen at each other’s disposal. It’s incredible and he wants it every fucking day.
You continue like this as best as you can, but it doesnt last long because Eddie is just too fucking good at what he’s doing. You pull off of Steve to whine.
“Eddie I’m - I’m close again oh fuck,” you groan.
Eddie just hums in response, but Steve’s hand comes to your throat. “Did I say to stop?” Steve asks, his eyes dark as he guides his cock back into your mouth.
You whine around the girth, your orgasm building as Steve starts to slowly thrust in and out of your mouth, spit pooling down the side of your face. “You wanted my cock so you get it, you understand?” Steve asks.
You mumble a gargled “mmhmhm” as you get closer to the edge.
“You’re gonna cum with my cock in your throat like my good little whore,” Steve instructs, and that does it.
Immediately your second orgasm floods you, a wave of pleasure overriding your system as you keep your mouth open for Steve to fuck. He’s gentle, aware of your state, and has to refrain from cumming himself at the sight of your eyes in the back of your head with his cock in your mouth.
“Come here,” you hear Eddie say, and in your blissed out state you see Steve move so Eddie has his cock in his mouth. It’s so beautiful.
Steve is not nearly as gentle with Eddie as he was with you, he has the other boy’s hair in his fist, tugging as he guides his head roughly up and down the length of his cock.
“Good fucking boy,” Steve grunts and it makes your pussy continue throbbing. Eddie gags and Steve pulls him up by his hair, bringing their mouths to meet once again.
You quickly remove your shirt as you watch Eddie stroke Steve’s dick, their tongues battling in a mirage of moans and grunts.
“Eddie you have too many clothes on,” you complain.
It makes them both chuckle.
“You heard the little one, take your clothes off,” Steve laughs, already undoing Eddie’s belt for him. It only takes a few seconds before Eddie’s dick springs free - also big and thick and looking like it’s absolutely aching.
You crawl toward the two boys, eyes wide as you eye both of their throbbing lengths, leaking with pre-cum. You gently touch their shoulders, bringing their attention to you as Steve buries his face in your neck, kissing and biting.
Eddie smashes his lips with your own and you revel in the contrast between his roughness and Steve’s softness with you.
“I want-wanna taste you Eddie,” you breathe between kisses.
Eddie smiles and gives you another quick peck on the lips before moving so he’s off the bed, standing so his cock hits his stomach. You turn to Steve, looking for approval you didn’t realize you needed.
“Get on all fours baby,” Steve instructs.
You nod, getting on your elbows facing Eddie, his cock in front of your face, as Steve positions himself behind you.
Something in the air shifts as Steve moves behind you. You can feel his eyes staring at your pussy as it’s presented to him, your back arched, our ass in the air just begging for him to spank it.
“Go ‘head and taste Eddie,” Steve says, making you face the boy in front of you again.
Eddie looks down at you, his hand coming under your chin. “Open your mouth,” Eddie says, and you do so, sticking your tongue out so it’s barely touching the tip of his cock. Then, he leans over and spits, his saliva landing on your tongue and his cock. You smile with your tongue out, happy to be free to be absolutely fucking filthy.
You slowly take Eddie’s cock, now coated in both of your spit, into your mouth, and moan at the taste.
“Fuuuck yes,” Eddie groans, his hand gripping your hair tightly.
Steve’s been watching, stroking himself as he eyes your drippy pussy, just begging to be stretched. You feel him poking at your entrance and your heart pounds, waiting in anticipation.
“Wait,” Steve says, stopping both you and Eddie.
“You okay?” Eddie asks the other boy, concern laced in his features. Steve’s hands find your hips as he slightly leans over your back, his cock pressing against you from the back. “I’m okay,” he responds.
“I just,” he starts, hesitating.
Your mind floods with worry. Is he regretting this?
“I want to see your face when I fill you up baby,” Steve admits.
If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. You smile and nod, leaning up to give Steve a quick kiss to the lips.
“Loverboy Steve,” Eddie teases.
“You’ll get a good view too Munson,” Steve responds, giving your ass a playful slap.
You giggle at the idiots you’re in between. “On your back baby,” Steve instructs, flipping you so your head was almost hanging off the bed near Eddie now, your hips aligned with Steves.
“God your tits are perfect,” Eddie says his hands immediately grabbing at them and pinching your nipples.
You giggle again, giddy with all of the attention you’re getting, but your breathing immediately shortens as you feel Steve prod at your entrance. Eddie moves so he’s to the side of your head, one of his hands on your tits while the other guides your hand to stroke him.
“You ready baby?” Steve asks, his brown eyes set on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance.
Your heart races. All those times you’ve envied the girls Steve has been with, all those times you’ve tried to make him jealous, get his attention - and now you have it all.
“I’m ready Stevie,” you smile. A smile lights up his face as well as he begins to push himself inside of you, making your face immediately twist as you adjust to his size.
You whine as your breathing picks up, his hands tight on your hips, his own eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I know baby I know,” he grunts, obviously holding himself back from pounding into you right away.
“So big,” you whine.
“You can take it angel,” Eddie coos from next to you, his brown eyes transfixed on you both.
You gasp as he inches in further. “Breathe baby,” Steve encourages. “Feel so fuckin’ good -fuck,” he grunts, filling you to the hilt. You both groan at the feeling, him being fully inside of you, so deep and thick and perfect.
He leans down to kiss your forehead and cheek before coming back up and starting to move his hips against yours. Your moans start to fill the room loudly as he handles your body expertly. Eddie palms your tits, adding to the sensation.
“This cunt was made for me I swear,” Steve curses, his pace quickening as you whine. “C’mere,” he grunts, pulling Eddie’s face to his own, smashing their lips together as you become a moaning mess beneath them.
“Baby can you take Eddie in your mouth? Can you do that for me sweet thing?” Steve asks, his thrusts puncturing his words.
“Yes, yes yes want Eddie,” you whine. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, immediately moving so he can hold your head as you bounce on Steve’s cock and therefore Eddie’s cock down your throat.
You love it. You absolutely love feeling filled on both ends - the groans of the two men above you mixed with your own garbled moans and groans.
You feel Steve start to pick up his pace, landing a slap to your thigh that makes you squeak but keep Eddie in your mouth. “Perfect perfect perfect,” Steve mutters, almost incoherently as he gets closer to his edge.
“You look fucking perfect taking cock, you know that angel? All fuck- all filled up by us,” Eddie adds.
They’re both just talking nonsense, words flowing in and out of your ears as you’re all overtaken with bliss.
“Our girl huh?” Eddie grunts.
“No one else ever gets to touch you like this” Steve adds, his thrusts getting sloppy.
“Oh God,” Steve grunts, his eyes screwing shut.
“You close big boy?” Eddie asks, sweat beading down his own forehead. “Fuck - fuck you’re gonna make me cum looking like that,” Eddie admits.
You whine, wanting to taste it, and it sends Eddie over the edge. He attempts to pull out of your mouth, but you keep it open, getting hot spurts of cum in your mouth and on your throat and tits, a perfect fucking picture that leaves Eddie gasping, and Steve absolutely reeling from the sight.
You can barely comprehend Steve’s words as you take in the mess Eddie made of you. “Where do you want it baby?” Steve asks.
“Fill me up Steve,” you reply without thinking.
You don’t even hesitate, of course you want his cum in you, claiming you. “Wanna feel you cum in me please,” you whine.
Steve groans, his thrusts choppy as he falls over you, his face burying in your shoulder as he bites down, definitely leaving a mark that you dont mind. “Gonna fill you up baby, make you mine,” he grunts into your ear.
And then you feel him spill inside you, his groans like music to your ears as his hips falter. He breathes heavy, his weight collapsing on you fully, not even caring about Eddie’s mess as he comes down from his high.
You both lay like that for a minute, catching your breath as you take in what the fuck just happened.
Your hand finds Steve’s hair, rubbing gently as he separates himself from you and kisses your lips softly.
“Here babe,” Eddie says from the dresser, throwing a shirt Steve’s way to wipe you both up. Steve chuckles as he wipes Eddie’s spend off of you both, mixed with sweat as well. “Christ,” Steve sighs.
“Are you okay?” he asks you, all concern flooding his eyes as he looks down at the girl he loves.
Loves.
He loves you. He always has. But this just made it even more obvious.
“I’m fucking great,” you laugh in your loopy haze.
Both boys laugh with you as Steve pulls out, making you wince from the loss. “I know I know,” he says, pulling you to lay on his chest. “Eds get over here,” he says over you.
Your eyes can barely stay open, but you feel the weight of the other boy come lay behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face into your back. You twist to kiss Eddie’s head before turning back to Steve and kissing him quickly on his swollen lips.
A serene silence falls between the three of you, only interrupted by the continued buzzing of the long forgotten party downstairs.
“Can we stay here tonight Ed?” Steve asks over you.
Eddie smiles. “You two pretty people can stay in my bed forever,” he replies.
You giggle. “I actually wouldn’t mind that,” you smile.
“We do need to shower eventually,” Steve quips, always the realist.
“After round two,” Eddie mumbles into your back.
“Or three, or four,” Steve adds.
You blush and hide your face into Steve’s chest. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you don’t think you mind at all.
a filthy one-off starring Arrogant!Rockstar!Eddie x Snarky!Rockstar!Gareth x AFAB!Reader that literally came to me in a dream and hasn’t left my horny brain alone since
CW: Female pronouns, An absurd amount of pet names, Light Dom/Bratty Sub dynamics (I mean very light), Mean Eddie and Gareth (initially), Taunting, Banter, Vaginal fingering, Oral (F receiving), Protected P in V sex, Rough sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Dirty Talk, Spit Kink(ish), Voyeurism, I mean — it’s a filthy threesome, there’s bound to be more but that’s basically it
Word Count: 15k
Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader, Rockstar!Gareth Emerson x AFAB!Reader, and enough banter and sultry looks and touches to make it Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!Gareth Emerson x AFAB!Reader
Summary: You’ve heard of the classic Same Bed Trope? Well, what would you call it when all you expect to do is fall asleep in luxury after a missed flight, only to find the room already occupied? Same Hotel Room Trope?
Great. Cause here it is.
The hours of trouble are now suddenly worth it. Even as your heavy eyes threaten to slip closed, you thumb the button to the penthouse suite with enthusiasm and admittedly, some excitement. Maybe losing your shit and bursting into tears in front of the United Airlines attendant was the way to go, especially if it gave you a voucher for dinner so cash-laden, you know you’ll never be able to spend it all.
Not to mention, the fucking penthouse suite at the Park Hyatt.
Okay, so maybe it’s not the penthouse, but it is still a suite. The view the attendant promised of Lake Michigan from the floor-to-ceiling windows is the best in the city, and you’re ultimately grateful for the accommodations they made to put you up for the night. Plus – it’s definitely a far cry from The Marriott in Hilton Head, South Carolina.
Which is where you were headed for your work conference before your flight got delayed and made you miss your connecting.
Heaving one last heavy sigh to the ceiling of the elevator, you again remind yourself that all is not lost. Missing one day of a conference isn’t so bad. You’ll use this to your advantage – shower in luxury, maybe even apply your pumpkin enzyme mask and give yourself a little spa-treatment in that luxurious soaking bathtub you spied at check-in. As your fingers fumble to get that pleasant little click and green light combo on the door lock, you soothe the ache in your feet and the fatigue in your bones with a promise that no matter what, you’ll be fast asleep as soon as your head hits the plushy pillows on that king size bed.
That is, until you’re shocked wide awake with the sight of two dark-dressed men lounging on the plush leather couch, legs spread and bodies relaxed as if they were expecting you.
Which clearly, they weren’t.
Two sets of eyebrows shoot sky high at the sight of you at the door, stunned more by the way you screech,
“What in the fuck –!”
The taller man (you think, anyway) with the slender frame and bambi eyes isn’t terribly fazed. Annoyance clips at his tone as he sighs, jostling the freshly rolled joint between his full cherry lips.
“Y’lost, sweetheart?”
The surprise of the presence of two denim-clad strangers only intensifies as he addresses you with all the nonchalance in the world. Stumbling over your words, you finally eek out a spluttering What the fuck –
– before the shorter, stockier male with a thick silver hoop in his bottom lip snaps at you like a chained junkyard dog.
“Get the fuck out of our room!”
“Wh-what?” You hate how your lower lip trembles, at the mercy of the adrenaline that surges through your system. “No! No,” you attempt to explain, “this is my room –”
Lip ring scoffs; a haughty catch that rasps deep in his throat. “Guarantee you, it’s not.”
At least the adrenaline has afforded you some spunk. Matching this asshole’s condescension, your upper lip curls in a sneer as you flash him the keycard still pinched between your fingers, waving it in front of your face for proof.
“Well, then explain how I just got in here!”
The same man shrugs, tossing a thumb at his friend, boyfriend, next murder victim, whatever with the long, midnight curls. “You stole it from him, somehow.” That menace with the piercing blue eyes leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “It’s a little desperate, if you ask me. Eddie likes the chase, not pussy provided to him on a silver platter.”
Eddie – apparently, you wouldn’t put it past that sharp-tongued shithead to lie about names – snorts through his nose (ringed nose, you spot a sliver of delicate silver adorning his left nare) as he adjusts his legs to splay wider across his cushion. Appraising you with an obvious flick of whiskey brown up and down your frame, he scoffs.
“Hardly a silver platter.”
Your nose wrinkles. Okay, so the messy bun perched on top of your head is undoubtedly in a right state; you’re aware of that. You’ve spent the better part of the day traveling, for Christ’s sake. It stings, how he points out something so obvious – though you refuse to let your hand tend to it. You wouldn’t dare give them the satisfaction.
Instead, you meet those intense espresso eyes with a furious stare of your own. “Um, rude.” You take a grounding breath before demanding, “What are you assholes even talking about?”
A slow, cocky grin slithers across his features. “Lemme spell it out for you, sweetheart.” You recoil at the eponym, his intention clearly made in how he spits it out like it’s burned his tongue. “You came to our show, you obviously liked what you saw, and you followed us back here. I gotta say, I admire the tenacity, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
That so figures, these egotistical sons of bitches are musicians. “Wh–what fucking show?” You shake your head to accentuate your bewilderment. “I haven’t been anywhere but the goddamn airport today! My connecting to Hilton Head got missed because my stupid fucking flight took off an hour late.” Chest heaving, you tilt your head to the side. “Says a lot about your observation skills. I’m literally standing here with a big ass suitcase and a carry-on. Who the fuck goes to a show with that?”
He – Eddie, you remind yourself – lifts an unbothered shoulder. “Still doesn’t excuse the fact that you broke into a rockstar’s room.” Long fingers splay over his heart. “While I am flattered, I stand by what I said. Desperate little fangirl with a weak-ass sob-story, just trying to get into my pants.” He flashes you his teeth. “A tale as old as time.”
That gets a guffaw so obnoxious from the lip-ringed idiot it makes your blood boil. In spite of yourself, eyes flick down his frame to take in his outfit. Black OpalInSky shirt. Tight, ripped black denim jeans. Chains. An exorbitant amount of chains. Black socks and thick-soled black combat boots that lay at rest near his feet.
And a chunky, glittering set of fucking rings on some stupidly long fingers.
Which reminds you what’s still held in yours. “How many keys did you get when you checked in?”
“What?”
“Pay attention, sweetheart,” you snap with the sweetest venom in your tone. “How many keys did you get?”
“Two.”
Now it’s you that cocks a thin-lipped grin. “Show me.”
A sardonic string of dry snickers tumble from his lips as he lists towards lip ring, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “She’s bossy. She’s kinda growin’ on me, Gare.”
“You like ‘em mean, that’s for sure.”
Seriously? The audacity of these two. “I’m literally standing right here –”
Those deft fingers flip open his leather billfold. “Oh, pipe down, princess.” Eddie tosses two sleek, navy blue cards on the table. “Well, wouldja look at that? Two cards. This doesn’t prove –”
Your own keycard and the cardboard holder join the identical pair on the table, bulging with the heft of a folded-up receipt. “Go ahead,” you snip. “Look.”
You’re surprised that he obeys. While he scans the contents, you can’t help but feel a lurch in your belly, as if your proof won’t be enough. “This is my room. Please,” you say as your shoulders slump with fatigue, dropping your carry-on to the floor with a muffled thump, “just please leave. If you’re like, in a band or something I’m sure they’d be more willing to cater to you than just someone they had to put up for the night.”
The blue-eyed boy grins, shifting on the couch to throw a casual arm behind Eddie. “Nah, I think he’s good here.”
Your eyes practically bug out of your head. “Are you – do you not see the literal receipt I just gave him –”
“You might be surprised at the lengths we’ve seen chicks go to to be in this exact situation –”
“I highly doubt you’re that big of a deal.”
“Honey, we’re the leading men of Corroded Coffin,” that crooked smile would be hot if it wasn’t attached to someone so assholishly brash. “I assure you, we are that big of a deal.”
“I’ve never heard of you,” you spit, “have no fucking idea who you are.”
“That’s a shocker,” he laughs as those crystalline eyes dance with mirth. “You probably wouldn’t know metal music if it bit you in the face.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you bite back, “Metal? Are you kidding me? You look more like someone who’d open for a shitty emo cover band.”
Gareth barks a laugh, and a curious flutter beats against your ribs, satisfied you got such a genuine sound out of him. Before you can dwell much on that feeling, Eddie waves his hand.
“Children, please,” though he sounds bored, his eyes betray him. The stare he gives you is loaded. “Now, sweetheart –”
“Don’t – ugh,” you groan. If you were to stomp your foot, you would look every bit as petulant as you feel. “Stop calling me that.”
That ringed hand comes to rub along the stubble on his jawline. “Whatever the lady wants.” A dimple pops in his left cheek when he murmurs your name. “Relax.”
Oh, that’s rich. You can feel your body tense, your blood pressure rising as you practically screech, “Did you just tell me to relax?”
Midnight curls frame his face as he leans forward onto his knees. “Yes,” he reiterates lowly, the browns in his irises darken as he looks at you through his eyebrows. There’s a subtle dominance, a shift in his demeanor, and though he’s still seated on the couch, that tone he uses compels your attention like he’s standing over you. “I said, relax. We’ll get this sorted out.”
The sandy-haired man tips his head back against the cushions, lolling to the side as he mutters, loud enough for you to hear, “Maybe y’should get her to relax, Ed.” He pins you in place with a Cheshire grin. “She looks like she’s wound so fucking tight she’s gonna explode. ”
What you mean to say is, No. Get out of my room. Don’t speak to me like that. Or even a, Shut your stupid, sexy mouth before I bite that goddamn ring right out of your face would have sufficed.
Okay, maybe not that last part, but the way that asshole keeps tonguinging it is starting to drive you a little mad, and not necessarily in a bad way.
But, you don’t say any of that.
Instead, your hackles are up as you reactively retort, “Your lazy fuckboy skills couldn’t get me to come if you tried.”
A heavy silence buzzes in your ear; a dreaded feeling that you’ve gone too far prickles heat up your neck before blooming into your cheeks.
Eddie’s features split wide in a sinister grin, as though watching you squirm is enjoyable. “Interesting,” he muses softly, sending a thrill down your spine.
“Please…” shame threatens to muck up your vocal chords, and it’s an effort to fight over the weak rasp and warble to petition for their mercy. Still, you’re firm in how you demand, “Just leave.”
There’s no mercy at the bottom of seaglass and dark honey, only this taunting sort of dominance that has your heart hammering wild in your chest. “Do you mean that?” Eddie asks with a brazen tilt of his head, “y’really want us to leave?”
Your jaw swings open on its hinges, at the ready to fire back with all the confidence in the world. How they haven’t realized this, gotten it through their thick skulls is beyond you – all you want is to crash on that bed and wrap yourself in that duvet that looks like it would swallow you whole.
Funny – because that’s precisely how both of these men look right now as they wait for your response.
Your very delayed response. “Yes,” you manage to choke out, drawing a snicker from the asshole to Eddie’s left who still hasn’t told you his name.
Not that you care.
A subtle scrape of metal against enamel, Eddie clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the way he slowly works it over his words showcases the silver bar and ball in its center. “Nah, I don’t think you do.”
The air turns dense, suddenly laden with promise. “What?”
Eddie feels it too, it radiates off his lithe form in waves. “I propose to you a deal, sweetheart.” The deep timbre in his voice rumbles through your chest. “You’ll get the room. Fair and square, because it does look like the hotel fucked up. Honest mistake, you can surely imagine that those happen, can’t you?”
It’s as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. “I –”
He presses on as if you’ve kept silent. “You’ll get the room if, and only if, I’m not able to extract that stick from your ass and use these lazy fuckboy skills to make you come.”
To punctuate his point, he wiggles those ring-clad fingers, smirking as you stammer, “That – that’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Eddie shrugs. “But something you’re entertaining. Isn’t she, Gareth?”
The man who now has a name raises an eyebrow suggestively, making a point to slowly drag his tongue over his lower lip as he stares you down. “She certainly looks like she’s entertaining it.”
Oh, this little shit. White hot denial, thick and heady, is sluggish as it courses through your veins. It’s maddening how it delays your vehement, “No, I’m not –”
“Yeah, I think you are.” Eddie interrupts your pitiful rejection, confident in the way he matches Gareth’s reclined position on the couch. Arms splay out wide, palms to the ceiling in smug supplication. “Those are the terms.” After a beat, he extends a hand across the designer coffee table. “Whaddya say?”
It only takes a moment of consideration before your upper lip curls in disgust, refusal found and sharp as you slap his offering away. “Fuck you and fuck this. Get out of my room.”
Gareth guffaws as the crack of skin on skin echoes off the high ceilings. “I think we struck a nerve. Been awhile since you had someone other than that vibrator in that front pocket of your carry-on make you come, yeah?”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, unable to mask the shock of his accuracy. “I – no, I don’t –”
“Gare Bear, be nice,” Eddie admonishes as the saccharine sweetness drips from his canines. “We can be nice, I promise.”
You don’t believe him for a second. “I sincerely doubt that.”
A subtle pitch of his hips forward has Eddie shifting his position on the couch, and you could curse yourself at how swiftly your eyes flick to the impressive mass straining behind his fly. That devilish smirk on his face only grows wider – and you know he’s clocked your stare.
“Oh, but you’re wondering, aren’t you? Wondering if I can back all this talk up?”
“You can’t.”
“I can. In fact, I can be so nice to you in so many different ways.” He tosses you a wink. “So many different positions. Baby, I’ll have you losing count of how many times you come.”
Your mouth drops agape, your stare oscillating to Gareth like he’s going to refute this, apologize for his bandmate’s filthy mouth, do anything but look as smug as he does while he watches you fight for words.
“Oh, don’t worry about Gare,” Eddie mistakes your stunned silence, thumbing over to his bandmate. “He’ll sit pretty and just watch.”
That lip ring twists into a frown, lasting but a moment before Gareth schools his expression back into a cocky grin. “Critique, you mean.”
Eddie snorts as he digs an elbow into Gareth’s side. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Their banter gives you a moment to breathe. “I – no,” you mutter, pushing a defiant breath out of your nose before reiterating more firmly, “no.”
“Y’sure about that?”
It’s appalling how you’re standing in the very same place you started, feet sewn to the floor while the circumstances of the evening whirl around you as if you’re not even there. Just moments ago, you were so sure all you wanted to do was unwind in peaceful solitude, lose yourself in luxury you hardly ever afford yourself in reality. Now, standing here in front of these two irritatingly arrogant men – you’re wired, buzzing with electricity that sends potent little zings to your toes. Your heart is pounding, pulsing your exasperation through your vessels to throb a relentless rhythm in your core so strong it aches.
It aches for more, so much more than that earlier version of you ever dreamed of wanting. Truthfully, you’re not all that surprised. You know how you allowed it to happen; egged it on, even.
Actions, meet consequences.
Plural.
A steely set of sky-blue eyes is laser-focused on how your chest heaves, offering nothing to his friend’s previous question. Gareth angles his body, purposefully close; his defined cupid’s bow brushing the helix of Eddie’s ear.
“I think that’s our answer.”
A dark, deep hum rattles in the other man’s throat. “Last chance, sweetheart.” Broad palms softly smack against denim as Eddie makes a show of lifting himself off the couch to stand at his full height. A long, lean finger drags under your jawline, and you flinch at the contact before he’s crooking it under to softly tip your chin upwards. His voice adopts a gravelly husk. “Tell us to stop, and I’ll go down to the desk right now and sort it out. Promise you, I will.” The mood shifts as those deft fingers grab your chin, a sensual flare of heat licks at your insides as he slowly runs the calloused pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. “Or, tell me to fuck you. Tell me to take care of you like you deserve.” Midnight curls, softer than you ever imagined, brush the sensitized skin of your cheek when he comes closer, guiding his thumb past your lips as he whispers in your ear. “Tell me to make you come.”
A soft, feminine moan is wrenched from your depths as you taste him. Eddie’s skin is ripe with salt and musk and man, his essence he spreads over your tongue as he reaches deeper. The roughness of his thumb is exquisite, this dynamic even more so – and you lean into it, locking his lustful gaze as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Eddie scoffs under his breath, pressing farther back to test your limits. When you don’t gag despite his depth, a corner of his mouth lifts in approval.
Gareth watches with rapt attention, stifling a grunt as your heavy-lidded eyes lock in his fiery stare. He matches Eddie, lips stretched wide to bare his teeth while his hand rests over an obvious bulge behind the fly of his jeans.
He never breaks eye contact. “Oh, she’s gonna be so good for us, Ed.”
“She already is.” Slipping the calloused pad over your tongue once, twice – before drawing it back over your lips, he gently prods for your consent. “She’ll be even better if she tells us with her words what she wants.”
It’s already been decided, but you indulge him, never once breaking that intense umber stare. “Okay,” you reply, barely above a whisper from the breath you’ve lost, but still somehow firm. “Try to make me come.”
Eddie’s whole face, though still darkened with lust, lights up with your answer. He draws in a shaky inhale, on the cusp of saying more, when his bandmate butts in.
“Sorry,” Gareth exaggerates cupping his hand behind his ear, “I can’t hear you from all the way over here.”
“Oh my god,” you scowl, tearing yourself away from this breathtaking moment with Eddie to pin Gareth in a withering glare. “If you would shut your fucking mouth for two seconds, you’d be able to hear me just fine.”
Eddie lets an amused huff escape as he leans in, plush lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve got a little crush on my drummer.” Reactively, your nipples pucker at his accusation, moreso as his tone drops. “Be nice, now. He likes ‘em sweet.”
Usually, you are. So kind and affectionate. There’s just something about Eddie that has you acting out, wanting and needing to be abrasive and defiant. Like he wants it that way, like he’s guiding you into a realm you’ve rarely explored.
So it feels right to stay vigilant, angling your set jaw towards him as you vow, “I don’t plan to be sweet tonight.”
The chuckle that slips through his plush lips is downright villainous. “Atta girl.”
Dropping your chin, the taller man slinks away to flip on a lamp at the bedside. Gareth materializes next to you, nearly startling you with how softly he croons your name.
“Here, honey. Follow Eddie over to the bed and I’ll take this for you, hmm?” Warmth from his fingers caresses your hand where you’ve protectively gripped the handle of your carry-on. The smile he gives you is strangely genuine, soothing any lingering unease once you’re over the initial shock of his kindness. “S’okay,” he murmurs. “You can trust us. You say stop and we’re gonna stop. Okay?”
You warily search those ice-blue depths for any signs he’s messing with you. The other shoe doesn’t drop – those crystalline eyes sparkle with sincerity. Your grip slackens; silent permissions are granted with a tiny curl of your lips.
Letting your wanton stare linger on his lips, you run your tongue along the edge of yours before affirming, “I’m not gonna want you to stop.”
“Fuck.” Sandy-blonde curls dance around the apples of his cheeks with a smart shake of his head, swearing again under his breath as he picks up your luggage. “Good girl.”
Gareth’s praise sears hot through your system, pooling at your core. You keep a coy eyebrow raised while he carries your bags to the hall closet, watching how the muscles of his shoulders and back ripple under his charcoal gray tee as he maneuvers the heavy tote. Staring longer than intended, there’s mirth in how Eddie breaks the spell with a gritty call of your name.
Summoning you over with an intentional waggle of his middle and ring fingers, you fight a massive eye roll before crossing the spacious room to where he stands near the king-size bed. He wastes no time, using those long arms to pull you flush against his body.
“Last chance,” he’s panting, the thrumming of his heart can be felt under your palms that are mashed against his chest, “you want this?”
You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Bracing yourself for impact, you tense. The expectation is for him to be rough, unbound with his passion that has smoldered in his dark chocolate eyes since you walked through that door. Instead, you’re met with intention, with care as Eddie cups his hand around the back of your skull and slots his impossibly plush lips against yours.
It’s soft and sensual; there’s passion, only different than you expected. He’s careful in how he moves, how his free hand wanders over the material of your hoodie; up your arm, down your spine, across your waist in such languid, teasing strokes that you almost wish he’d be more aggressive.
Almost.
Because this? It’s heaven. It’s fireworks and bliss and a whole different level of contentment that has you sighing deeply as your fingers tangle into that beautiful mess of curls. Groaning deep in his chest, Eddie deepens the kiss, licking at your lips to allow him to explore the honeyed recesses of your mouth.
And explore he does.
You feel his presence a fraction of a second before you feel his first touch. Gareth brackets you against Eddie from behind, his hot breath fanning over the dewy skin of your neck before you’re treated to the softest press of lips over your flesh. His kisses draw a current from his mouth to your center, made all the more intense as he runs both hands up, up, up and into your hair. You groan as deft fingers unwind your hair tie, and again – louder for Eddie to swallow – when they settle against your scalp, rubbing tired strands into relaxation, coaxing them to cascade in untidy waves over your shoulders.
He’s so good at this. He’s too good at this. Dueling sensations mix in a homogenous blend of pleasure so deep you’re dizzy while you stand. Where one kisses you senseless, the other makes you senseless – his blunted nails dragging over your scalp again and again until you’re nothing better than putty in their hands.
Fuck orgasms, you think wryly to yourself, just do this all night and I’ll be happy.
Undressing you is a dance, a cool coordination of flawless effort. Shoes and socks are shed by one while the other occupies your mouth with his lips, only to then be guided with the gentlest of touches to the other while the zipper of your hoodie is slowly slipped down and away. Push and pull, back and forth; the two men are perfectly in sync like they’ve often done this together before. It should bother you, it should make you feel cheap or unspecial. As Eddie directs you back to Gareth’s lips, you expect insecurity to trickle in, especially as he hooks those ringed fingers into the band of your leggings and tugs them over your thighs. No doubt you’re a dime a dozen for these two – merely another groupie, looking for a quick fuck – just like they said.
Insecurity never comes; it’s as absent as your shame. Even though you know in your heart it’s a one-off, you’ll go back to your life and they’ll go back to theirs – the reverence in every grasp, every stroke, every caress says otherwise. You don’t feel cheap or used as Eddie’s hands ghost over your curves, or when Gareth’s lips tickle the skin on the back of your neck.
Sighing when you’re once again led to Eddie’s mouth, you concede you’ve lost the bet before it’s really even begun. In this moment, you feel cherished. Sensual. Desired. A goddess meant to be worshiped. It’s been so long since you’ve felt lust like this ignite in your belly, pooling arousal slick and hot between your legs.
It’s foolish and it’s atypical for you – but fucking hell does it feel so good.
You crack a small smile into his plush pursed lips, wiggling while Gareth’s fingers run a blazing trail under the path of your tee – up your sides, down the slope of your chest, over the expanse of your waist and hips and back again. It tickles, but in the best way – pleasure sparks hot and bright, concentrating to heat the desire that licks at your core.
Finally, Gareth pulls your shirt over your head, and you swear you hear him snicker as it comes off.
You’re more breathy than you realize as you ask, “What?”
“Nothin’,” he muses with a smirk as he folds it with surprising care and sets it on the dresser. “Interesting choice.”
“I like Tool,” you breathe, sighing airly as the sultry warmth of Eddie’s mouth explores every dip and valley of your chest that’s now bared to him.
Gareth settles in the chair in the corner, his piercing baby blues remain fixed on you. “Sure ya do.”
Ire and pleasure roll to a boil in your belly, the heat from the two distinct emotions nearly indecipherable. “Oh, are you gonna be that douche that tells me to name five songs because I’m we-ear – oh, fuck –” you lose yourself properly when Eddie ducks his head to close his lips over your nipple. Your tone swings up an octave as you finish, “their band tee?”
The gravel in the drummer’s tone baits you further. “Nothing would delight me more.”
“You asshole –”
Stealing a sharp glance at Gareth, you’re immediately rewarded; pride prickles in tiny puckered dimples over your skin. The sight of you, nearly-naked in just your underwear, body bowing to Eddie’s tongue and teeth and hands has affected him tremendously. His face is flushed, hips canting of their own accord for relief as he palms over his denim-covered cock.
Eddie senses your distraction and immediately puts an end to it. “Gareth,” he grits, “shut up and just watch.”
Spinning you where you stand, he holds you tightly against his frame, the surprising strength in the arm over your collarbones renders you immobile. The anticipation is thick and heady, sawing the breath in and out of your lungs as you wait for his next move. Gareth watches it all, every rise and fall of your chest, every reflexive shiver Eddie’s touch sends through your core. Lust clouds the vibrant blue of his irises, staining them gray. It changes his whole appearance; he almost looked boyish before, but now?
Sitting in that chair is a man – a primal, wanting man that is wound so tight you think he might explode. There’s no hiding how turned on he is, and with a wave of satisfaction, through the haze of desire you recognize it’s you that affects him this way.
It drives you crazy, especially as Eddie runs his free hand over your breasts, roughened pads of his agile fingers pinch and flutter over pert nipples with such precision that your head topples back to rest against his shoulder.
Though your eyes slip closed, you can feel his smile as he nuzzles your temple. “Feel good, sweetheart?”
“Mmmhh,” you hum, not so lost to his erotic ministrations that you can’t feign some indifference, “feels fine, I guess.”
Tandem scoffs tickle the newfound part of your brain that’s so intent on pushing buttons. It thrills you, how Eddie reacts with a firm press of his forearm against your chest and a rut of his erection over your ass.
“Feels fine, I guess,” Eddie mocks in a soft soprano rendition of your voice before dropping his timbre to roll like thunder. “We’ll see about that.” Dipping his hand over the soft of your belly, he toys with the elastic of your underwear before dragging his hand lower to cup over your pussy. Fingers explore the wetness gathered here with tantalizing accuracy, his touch over your aching core so exquisite it’s a tremendous effort not to moan out his name.
His index swipes along your seam, pressing at the apex just enough to send a shock of pleasure coursing through your veins. Crooking the soaked fabric at its hem, he pulls it aside and runs that same digit through your folds.
“Fuck, she’s so wet, Gare,” his murmur is tainted with a sandpaper rasp. “Christ, sweetheart, this all for us?”
Gathering your slick, he runs it back and forth with a touch so light drives you wild. To keep the noises that beg to pour from your lips, you sink your teeth into the plush of your bottom, hard enough a coppery tang bursts over your tongue. Your pussy betrays you, the slick sounds Eddie makes as he dips his pad at your entrance are obscene and present and loud.
“Can hear her pussy from here,” Gareth flashes a wicked grin in your direction. “You’re gonna come in record time, honey.”
Words elude you at a time like this, all you can give him is an abrupt shake of your head.
“Gonna be so easy for ‘im,” he goads, “Eddie’s fingers are magic.”
As if on cue, Eddie’s longest finger locates your clit and weaves the gentlest figure eights. He doesn’t even flinch as your nails dig into his forearm, clinging harder to his hold to stay upright. It’s all at once so much and not enough, and your hips buck reactively in search for more. Adrenaline crackles through your veins as you tip Gareth a sardonic smile. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Gareth grunts, a pause before he retorts an equally wry, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“You’re cute,” you huff, desperately trying to wash the bliss out of your tone as Eddie firmly presses tight circles over your bud, “confusing me with someone who actually gives a – ohhh shit –”
A pornographic moan spills over your slackened lips as Eddie sheaths two thick fingers deep inside your cunt. They slide in with no resistance, satisfying that throbbing ache with the most delicious of intrusions. He fills you, stretches you, massages your walls like he knows already what makes your blood run hot.
“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, setting a torturously slow rhythm. “You taunting my drummer again?”
You couldn’t answer him if you tried. Eddie taunts you instead, dragging his fingers in and out of your needy hole, the heel of his hand providing pressure over your clit as he bottoms out. “I think that gets you hot, thinking you can rile him up.” A deft crook of his fingers against your front wall has you keening. “And maybe you can, but baby… right now, you’re mine. I’m the one knuckle-deep inside this cunt, playing you like a fiddle. I’m the one that’s got your pussy clenching around me, around my fingers.”
There’s no lie – you could hate how right he is if it didn’t feel so goddamn divine. “Already have you so far gone. Christ, look at you.” Pausing the thrusting of his digits, he opts to keep them buried, scissoring and driving into that oversensitized spongy wall that makes you see stars. “Yeah, that’s it, huh? Do I have it? Do I have you all figured out?”
You figured you had time, that standing practically naked with an audience would distract you from your orgasm well enough to draw this out. The fact is, there is no time – Eddie’s fingers are honed in on your pleasure, careening you towards release embarrassingly fast. High and tight sighs fill the room at the end of every precise press of pads over where you need him most.
Eddie almost sounds bored while his fingers vigorously send you to the edge. “I know I do. I knew I would, and here you are – reduced to a sloppy mess on my hand.”
Labored breaths puff from your nose, your lips clamped shut in an attempt to stifle all the whines and whimpers that beg for release. “Go on,” Eddie whispers lowly, “say something. Tease my drummer. Look at him; look at Gareth for me, sweetheart.” Your eyes open of their own accord, locking in with steely blue like they’re compelled to obey. “Keep those eyes open, now. Want you to look at him, want you to just relax and feel me work you over. Fuck, that’s right,” he chuffs as a pitchy ahhh involuntarily escapes, “make all those pretty noises for him as I make you come.”
If it hurts him with how deep your nails sink into the sturdy sinew of his arm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he keeps his cadence steady, drumming those magic fucking fingers against that spot, spreading molten pleasure like wildfire. It climbs, the pressurized release within reach –
Until a familiar rasp from the chair slices through, yanking you back from the edge.
“She’s closin’ her eyes, Ed.”
Your upper lip curls in disgust, but before you can snark the retort Gareth knows is coming, Eddie’s hand moves swiftly from its grip on your shoulder to grasp along your jaw. “Now, now,” he growls, adding the most delicious pressure and squeezing your cheeks as he rips your gaze from his bandmate. “I said keep ‘em open. Be my good girl and listen to me.”
Umber eyes flash when he feels your body bow to the promise of your orgasm. Gently, he cradles your chin and returns your fucked-out stare to his friend. Those fingers never slow, but the heel of his hand shifts, adding just what you need to reach your peak.
“Ohhfuckk,” you fight to keep your eyes trained on baby blue as that white-hot coil winds close to detonation, “fuck, I –”
A choked cry is wrenched from your throat as Eddie pistons his two longest digits with expert precision, adding the perfect balance to the friction he provides against your clit. Your body submits with the fiery snap of pleasure, pouring it rich and honeyed through your core in waves. Jaw hanging slack, muted huffs and whines tumble from your lips on the heels of your gasping breaths, not once breaking eye contact with the one who sits stock-still in his chair. Eddie mercifully keeps up the subtle pump and grind, whispering praise in your ear as you ride out your release on his hand.
It’s the hardest anyone has ever made you cum, but you’re not about to tell them that. There’s a good chance the one whose well-inked arm already knows, as he’s now decorated with reddened little half-moons from your nails. Your head is just as fuzzy as your body, lolling forward to rest against the firm, muscled flesh. You realize it may be the only thing keeping you upright with how your legs and your insides have turned to jelly.
Between panting breaths, you manage to stammer, “You – you –”
Eddie snickers, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your still-fluttering pussy. “Yeah?”
“You, Gareth,” throwing all of your remaining fire into lifting your head and finally tossing back a snarky retort that burst into your brain before Eddie’s fingers incinerated it with that orgasm. “You are such a little bitchboy. Tattlin’ on me to your daddy like that. Nearly didn’t come because of you.”
The lines around Gareth’s bright blue eyes crinkle in delight; he throws his head back and matches the booming cackles emanating from Eddie. You can’t help but grin as well, pride swells in your chest at the way you’ve got both of them to laugh so carefree as they are.
Gareth pushes off from the chair, stealing you from Eddie and backing you up to the bed. “God damn, you’re a pain in my ass.” One playful push has you willfully toppling into the duvet, body sinking into covers so downy soft. The bed jostles lightly as Gareth crawls up to hover over your frame. “I fuckin’ love it.”
Kiss-bitten lips connect in a flash with yours, the heat from his mouth so searing it ignites you from the inside. You match his every move, every twist and tangle of his tongue against yours is met with one of your own. His taste is divine, so different from Eddie’s but yet just as desirable. It spurs you on, drives the confidence needed to lick over that silver hoop along his bottom lip and capture it between your teeth. Gareth moans into your mouth, answering with a teasing nip of his own. The sting is wanton and your body is begging for more, but before you’re given a chance to revel in it, Gareth moves off of you. There’s a brief pause in his affections as he shifts, tugging you up to the head of the bed as Eddie settles to kneel on the floor at your feet.
Gareth cups your face in his hands. “Open those legs for us, honey,” he rasps into your parted lips, “Eddie wants to make you feel so good.”
You don’t need those hands to help spread you wide, your legs fall apart all on their own. Humming contentedly as Eddie’s palms run a soothing trail over sensitive skin, you steal a glance at where he lies so close to your sex. His dark chocolate curls frizz in disarray around his face while heavy-lidded eyes oscillate from you to the soaked middle of your panties. It’s infuriating how slow he takes it, running the bulb of his nose over your covered slit, placing tender kisses on the trembling flesh of your inner thighs, deliberately delaying the inevitable.
You wish Gareth’s own fingers would work their magic, touch your chest, your nipples, your ribs, anywhere but where he has them tenderly clasped along your jawline.
Arguing for it isn’t an option. Your mouth is occupied, your voice lost in the depths of Gareth’s kiss – a would-be distraction if you weren’t so in tune with every sultry puff of breath against your sex.
As if he timed it, Eddie licks a long, wide stripe over your clothed cunt at the moment your mouth opens to accommodate Gareth’s wandering tongue. It shatters you in the best way, tearing your lips from his to belt a wanton moan to the ceiling. You steal the air right from Gareth’s mouth with your gasping inhale, succumbing to the warm, wet heat of Eddie’s tongue as he drags it over the soaked gusset of your panties. He’s a rascal and you’re sure he knows it, your hips chase that sinful muscle after he makes a show of swirling the tip around your clit before he stretches the thin, silken material of your underwear north with a sly pinch of his fingers.
That pressure, that gentle rub of fabric against your sex carries such a surprising intensity your hands clench at your sides.
“Oh, look at that,” Eddie coos, pulling it even tighter over your pussy, “she’s so pretty. Practically swallowing up your panties, baby.” Another hot rush of arousal coats the fabric when you hear him rasp, “Gare, come look at this.”
Gareth throws you a wicked look before rolling from his position on top of you to flank Eddie’s side. Peering over your body, you watch how his chin drops to his chest at the sight of you. “Fucking Christ,” Gareth unleashes a shuddering breath full of reverence and lust, “give ‘em to me, Ed.”
“Gladly.” With enviable dexterity, Eddie rips your panties down your legs. Gareth snatches them from his grasp, shoving his nose directly into the sodden crotch. The moan he belts is downright vulgar – you’re surprised you haven’t burst into flames.
While your stare is trained on the man face-deep in that ruined scrap of fabric, Eddie coaxes your thighs wider. “Oh, sweetheart,” he husks with white-hot vehemence, “I’m gonna fuckin’ devour you.”
You have no time to react to the heat in his words before he’s doing just that – making a mess of your cunt in a blur of mouth and lips and tongue. It shocks the air from your lungs, the pleasure he builds, lapping and licking every intimate inch of you. He does it like he’s known your body, like he knows you – and Christ, perhaps he does. There’s no question in your mind he’s the best you’ve ever fucking had – each wicked undulation of his tongue is met with just enough suction from his mouth and vibrations from his throat, you find yourself tensing against the inevitable.
Just as before, your orgasm slams into you regardless of how you try to fight it off – the moment Eddie flattens his tongue and rubs the ball of his piercing against your clit, he has you seeing stars. Every part of your core seizes in effervescent waves, needy walls clamping down on nothing and only intensifying the ache that burns deep within you. In an effort to mask your pleasure, you hide as much of your face as you can in your pillow, willing Gareth to be looking anywhere else but how your body convulses and spasms against Eddie’s mouth.
As luck would have it, you’re not that fortunate. Gareth’s whole face ignites as he recognizes what just happened.
“Holy shit, did you come already?”
You’re hardly yourself, panting and twitching and squirming while Eddie’s tongue dives inside your entrance. “N-no –”
“You liar,” he half-laughs, feathering the skin near the corners of his eyes with delight. He snickers as you whine, snatching your hands from where they try to push Eddie’s face out from between your thighs. “Well, if you say so… Ed, I think you need to suck a little harder on her clit. She says she hasn’t come yet.”
A knowing rumble emanates from Eddie’s chest. Without losing his pace, his heavily-lashed lids rise to half-mast, a blackened gaze hones in on how your chest heaves under every deft swipe of his tongue.
“Liar,” he mutters with a mouthful of pussy.
The buzz from his gravelly tone nearly sends you into orbit. “Fuck, I –” There’s no point in begging, not when Eddie’s swollen lips seal over your swollen clit. “No – ohh–”
All higher brain function ceases. He’s dead set to prove you wrong, make good on all of his promises as that tongue works in perfect tandem with those stupidly plush lips. There’s nothing left to do, nothing to dampen the overwhelming surges of electric lust that lightning through your cunt. Ripping your hands from Gareth’s, you do what instinct tells you to do – wind your fingers tight into Eddie’s curls, pull his face closer and ride out the overstimulation on his face.
It’s still so much, your mouth drops slack from the barrage of sensations. “No, no, no,” you protest, a mere whisper beneath the lewd, slick sounds of your sex.
Though you’re quiet, Gareth hears it all. “No?” he feigns concern, “Why’re you saying no? Is that not enough, you little brat?”
It’s so utterly enough it’s almost too much. You feel as if you could levitate with the way Eddie drives you straight into another climax; the pressurized heat of release sears every fiber of your being and has you hoarsely bawling out a string of nonsensical words.
It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s so fucking hot – and all the while there’s still an awareness deep in your subconscious that knows your every expression is being watched. How that elevates you further – you’re not at liberty to understand, not right now, anyway. Not while Eddie’s two longest fingers toy at your entrance, gathering ample amounts of your arousal, pushing in to tease at your hole before withdrawing completely. The heated anticipation is so divine you can’t help but whimper and moan for more.
Apparently, Gareth can’t get enough. “God damn, listen to you,” he groans reverently, “listen to those sweet little noises – couldn’t hold those back if you tried, huh? Eddie’s mouth is just too fuckin’ good, isn’t it?”
Thrashing about the downy soft bedding on the cusp of your release, all you’re able to offer are pitchy little ahh, ahhs at the end of your gasping inhales.
“I asked you a question, honey,” Gareth directs your face out of the pillows and into his gaze that sizzles with desire. “Answer me.”
You don’t even remember the question at this point. “I – yes, yes –”
A firm grip cradles your jaw. “You gonna come again?”
It’s right there, a molten implosion of your being, teetering on the edge. The white-hot pleasure borders on painful, the answer for that ache reached as soon as Eddie’s fingers found purchase against your sweet spot. Every muscle in your pelvic floor is bound tight, held fast in a limbo that fights to keep your impending orgasm from wiping you from the face of this earth.
Yeah – it sounds dramatic, but with the way Eddie has your pleasure mounting regardless, you’re not sure you’re going to survive. Your lips roll inward, your eyes screw shut as that coil wraps and winds to its breaking point.
Gareth chuckles, dark and with intention. The pad of his finger, smoother than Eddie’s, taps lightly at your cheek. “Eyes on me.”
“N-no,” you whimper, knowing that they both have wholly ruined you with this last push over the precipice, “noo no no – ohfuck –!”
Your entire body draws on itself with the sheer force of your orgasm, thighs slamming shut over Eddie’s face. It isn’t even a wave, it’s a violent shattering of your existence, bowing your back clear off the bed with how hard your muscles contract.
Gareth is quick to brace one of your legs, while Eddie palms the other. “Keep them open, baby,” his command sounds almost like it’s spoken underwater, “wanna see you make a mess of him.”
You’re suddenly very aware of a sizable, slow gush of fluid, leaking from between your thighs and the source of the obscene sounds of Eddie’s fingers fucking up into your core. The lewd, wet squelch of your orgasm drowns out all other sounds. Or perhaps, it’s the roaring of blood in your ears – you’re not in any state of mind to figure it out.
Eddie lifts his head without stalling his efforts, a self-assured grin befalls his face that’s just soaked in your release. A mental image of him slathered in your cum is seared into your memory, suspended in time before he dives back in, replacing his tongue at your entrance to lap up every last drop. He’s loud – so fucking loud – moaning into your pussy like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. You’re certain he’d keep going, too, if it wasn’t for Gareth.
“Ed,” he rasps, clearing his throat loudly to grab his friend’s attention, “why don’t we get more comfortable before you fuck her brains out?”
As if Eddie hadn’t done that already with his godforsaken mouth. If you weren't still trying to catch your breath, you’d laugh at the irony of it all.
Eddie huffs a stilted groan into your pussy, making you twitch from the vibrations. “Splendid idea, Gare.”
The blue-eyed man snorts. “Such a fuckin’ nerd.”
Eddie hauls himself up from between your legs, his face a shimmering, shining mess of you. He cocks a grin at his bandmate. “Just the way you like it.” Taking his two fingers that were just buried in your pussy, Eddie runs the pads along Gareth’s lower lip before shoving them in his mouth. “Now suck for me, big boy.”
Gareth grapples at Eddie’s wrist, eyes rolling back as those thick digits disappear between his lips. Your lids flare as you watch Eddie’s two middle fingers slip and slide between his reddened pout, ridding them of any evidence of you.
“God damn,” Gareth pops off Eddie’s hand and hones in on your blown-out stare, “you taste so good.”
“Yeah, she does.”
Eddie moves behind Gareth, slotting his long, lean body against his bandmate’s back. He’s taller – moreso than you realized, to the point where Gareth rests his fluffy head against Eddie’s collarbone while those magic fingers put on a show, just for you. Eddie all the while is watching you map his every move – the pop of a button, the slow, southward drag of a zipper, the squeeze and press of fingers into flesh as he takes his time removing those skintight jeans. Gareth’s thighs are bared, then – so irritatingly thick and defined and smattered with ink. The intricate designs weave through the soft collection of hair that covers his skin, the sight of it so arousing you feel your need throb traitorously through your core.
Especially when his shirt comes off, revealing more hard planes of inked skin. Too distracted to focus on one piece for too long, your eyes hungrily dart and study as much of him as you can before he turns, guiding Eddie into the spotlight of their tandem striptease.
And tease you, they do. Delicate touches, heated glances – at you, at each other; they’re sure to draw it out as long as possible. The desired effect is achieved – you’re sure you’ll wither away with how fucking hot the room has become. Eddie’s belt, his chains, his jeans – all end up in a heap at his feet. Gareth has his own set of talented fingers, he tugs at the hem of Eddie’s shirt with one hand while the other draws lazy lines over the tattoo of a beast you can’t quite make out – much of it is lost under the band of his boxer briefs. Your mouth parts, watching with rapt attention as Gareth’s longest finger traces the art like he’s memorized it.
You know what he’s doing. You know Gareth’s intentionally provoking you, an iron prod your desire to stoke it until it roars. And it is. He knows it is – fuck that smirk that dances over his perfect lips, because you can’t tear your eyes away from this sensual display of lust if you tried.
The only solace is that this is affecting them just as much as it is you – the cotton of their boxers does little to hide what’s beneath. Maddeningly impressive bulges protrude to tent the material in wide arcs, straining against their thick, flared tips that barely stay contained beneath barriers of elastic.
It figures they’re both packing. It would piss you off if it didn’t make you so goddamn excited.
Once Eddie’s shirt is tossed with the rest, a need digs its claws into your superheated skin. “Wait,” your sudden interruption stops Gareth’s wandering fingers from slipping beneath Eddie’s waistband. “Can I?”
Two sets of eyebrows fly beneath matted fringe for the second time tonight. “Hmm,” Eddie drawls in faux contemplation, shivering as Gareth’s hands suddenly change course to trail between sparse patches of chest hair. He’s notably a little breathless as he asks, “Think you deserve to unwrap your present, sweetheart?”
Your lips twist into a smirk, shifting to sit on your knees. “Moreso than Gareth. He’s not the one getting fucked tonight, is he?”
“Oh,” Gareth’s tone is roughened as he leers at you, “she thinks she’s gonna talk dirty to us, huh Ed?”
“Sounds like it.” The taller man saunters over to the bed, purposefully angling himself so he’s towering over you. “Think you can keep up?”
You’re proud of how confident you sound. “Yes.”
“I’d like that,” the way he bares his teeth is downright sinful. “Wouldn’t you, Gare?”
Gareth joins his bandmate, the ice in his irises is white hot as he replies, “I would. Open up, honey.”
It’s only a moment’s hesitation before it clicks; your tongue lolls out past your lips, knowing now precisely what he intends. A long string of saliva falls from Gareth’s pursed pout, coating your tongue before you make a show of swallowing for him. “Gotta get you nice and filthy,” he rasps, wiping away what leaked from the corner of your mouth.
You’re drunk on his touch, not realizing how much you long for more until he pulls his thumb away. The rest of him follows, allowing you to rake your heavy-lidded gaze down, down, down – unabashedly mapping the outline of his cock as it tests the cotton limits of his boxers.
“Like what you see?” He rolls his eyes when you try for an unbothered shrug. “Go ahead then, honey. Take ‘em off.”
Eddie throws an exaggerated scowl Gareth’s way. “Thought I was going first.”
“You get to fuck her,” the sanpaper in his tone snaps playfully. “Don’t get greedy.” Gareth’s softer as he angles his hips toward your hands. “You, on the other hand… you can get greedy.”
“Saving the best for last, I suppose,” Eddie sighs dramatically, a pucker of his full lips doesn’t hide his smirk.
“God,” Gareth bites back, “you’re such a dick.”
“Just for you, sweet cheeks.”
Their exchange is hot, but you’re starting to get antsy. “Um, excuse me, but if I don’t see dick in the next few seconds, I’m gonna leave.”
Gareth barks a laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re practically vibrating, you’re so eager to see our cocks.”
Swallowing down your nerves, because of course, he’s right, you tilt your head to the side and will forth some sass. “Y’just gonna keep talkin’ about them, or show me what you got?”
Baby blue eyes smolder with cocksure intention. “What I’ve got, you can’t handle. Why d’ya think Eddie’s the only one fucking you tonight? My cock would have you crying, honey. S’okay,” he coos, patting your cheek, “maybe we’ll work up to it someday.”
Your lips pop open in surprise, prompting Eddie to push the metaphorical envelope. “Or work up to both.”
A thrill shivers up your spine at the thought of that, making your composure falter. A subtle heat creeps into your neck, your cheeks – and though you try to hide it behind a facade of confidence, even you know that’s crumbling. Fast.
Eddie notices immediately. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Fuck, that’s a nice thought, but for today, it’s all me. I’m the one that’s gonna have you so fucked out you won’t be able to remember your name.” Eddie’s curls brush lightly over your cheek as he dips low to whisper in your ear. “Or his, for that matter.”
There’s a possessive edge to his tone, exhilarating to the point where that waning confidence surges. Your expression changes, melts into a sanguine curve of kiss-bitten lips. “We’ll see if you can even get me to say yours.”
Eddie’s incredulous huff swirls hot against your skin, prompting you to shiver when his lips make contact. “That a challenge?”
Your nipples pucker as he runs a path of kisses along the slope of your neck. “If you’re up for it.”
Gareth chuckles. “Oh, we’re up for it, all right.” Eddie straightens then, tipping a crooked smile at his friend’s innuendo as Gareth guides your hands to the elastic at his hips. “You wanted to. Take ‘em off, sweetheart.”
Admittedly, it is a bit like unwrapping a present – unbridled excitement thrums through your veins and has your fingers trembling, making it a struggle to hook them under his band. Gareth’s expression softens, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while Eddie steps close enough to brush his thumb over your cheek.
“We can stop here,” Gareth offers sweetly, and part of you wouldn’t have believed he said it if you didn’t watch the words spill from his lips.
Eddie echoes the sentiment as dark honey swirls in his doe eyes. “Say the word if it’s too much, sweetheart.”
“It’s not too much,” you promise, projecting this truth into your gaze as it oscillates between the two men. To prove your point, your now steady hand cups over Gareth’s impressive erection, swiping your thumb over a damp patch at his tip. “I don’t want to stop.”
Your assurance satisfies them, allowing you to disrobe one, and then the other. Your heart hammers in your chest at the sight of them, overwhelmed by how attractive they look under your lustful gaze. You make no secret about studying them, and they make no effort to move.
Eddie languidly strokes his cock in his broad hand, displaying his ample length from root to tip. He’s definitely longer than average, certainly more than you’ve ever had — including the dildo you have stored away at home. Maybe as thick, too. But it’s that curve – that gracious, veiny, upward curve that lists slightly to the left – you know that’s going to ruin you in the best way, much more than late nights with that silicon cock in your nightstand ever could.
Gareth, unsurprisingly, is built just like his frame – ruddy and solid and a little bit formidable. He’s nearly as long as Eddie, which is impressive in and of itself, but it’s his sheer girth that takes you aback.
And the way he handles it, smearing precum down the stocky length just does something to you.
Part of you is thrilled they’re as endowed as they are – that they physically can back up the filthy promises they’ve made tonight. The other part is wondering what in the actual fuck you got yourself into.
A little too late, yeah.
“Aw look,” Gareth coos before he flashes a toothy grin to the taller man, “already so cockdrunk just lookin’ at us.”
The taller man snatches his jeans from the floor, rummaging in the back pocket before pulling out a foil packet. Long, lean lines of his body remind you of a cat as he slinks up the bed, his cock bobs heavily between his legs as he hovers above you. “Just wait until I pound you into this mattress,” the condom wrapper wiggles where it’s mashed between his lips, “so ready to fuck you dumb.”
You know it’s meant to be intense, said with the same sort of vigor as when he suggested it in the first place, but it’s not… not when he gives you an exaggerated waggle of his thick eyebrows. Rolling your mouth inward, you stifle a giggle, especially when he fails to tear it open with his teeth. Heartstrings twang deep in your chest as you wonder if it wasn’t to dispel some tension you’re still carrying in your shoulders. That Cheshire grin is back, bright and wide as he rolls the condom down his length and secures it at the base.
Eddie winks as he watches you catch your breath. “Y’ready, sweetheart?”
Your nods come swiftly as you trail off, “Please...”
Ducking his head, he murmurs into your ear soft enough for just the two of you. “I’m gonna make you feel so, so good. Want you to tell me exactly what you want. Can you do that for me?”
Now your head bobs vigorously, just in case he can’t hear your wispy Yeah that you breathe to the ceiling.
“Don’t hold back, you understand? And if it’s too much –”
“I’ll tell you.”
A hum of approval vibrates his chest. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Wrap those legs around me, baby.”
Cinching your ankles around the muscles of his low back, you adjust your hips, your inhale hitching as his cockhead splits your folds. When he catches the tight rim of your entrance, you hold your breath, awaiting that first aching stretch of his thick head through your cunt. Eddie shifts, guiding his cock at the base with his thumb, and just when you think he’s about to drive home in one swift thrust – he tosses a look to Gareth, who swiftly shoves a pillow under the plush of your ass.
“Oh!” you squeak at the unexpected move, words of thanks die on your tongue as Eddie sinks slowly in. There’s no holding back your moans, not when it feels like he’s splitting you in half. “Oh, my god – oh, my god ohmygod –”
“Christ,” Eddie grits, almost halfway sheathed, “fucking hell, sweetheart –”
Your walls protest the utter volume of Eddie’s cock, and you can admit as you whine and cry out in monosyllabic nonsense that he’s definitely bigger than your dildo at home. It’s truly a piece of heaven and hell with how torturously deliberate he is, pushing in barely an inch before withdrawing to the level of his thick mushroom tip and back again. Over, and over until your pussy finally stops clenching to accommodate his whole length.
It’s then that you think he’ll truly begin, surely he’ll start making good on his word and fuck you senseless into this duvet – but he starts the process over, punctuating each deep thrust with a grind of his pelvis against yours.
Granted, you’re a little grateful – he’s allowed you to recapture some air in your lungs, and that sting and burn initially brought about by his size has melted away. It’s all molten pleasure, hot and slick and filthy and raw.
And now, you need more.
“Thought you,” you begin as the breath is punched out of your nose at the tail end of another roll of his narrow hips, “thought you said y’were gonna – mmmnnh – gonna –”
An egotistical snicker interrupts your babbling. “C’mon honey,” Gareth commands wryly, “use your words.”
You huff an airy laugh, wild eyes flashing at the devil of a man kneeling next to you on the bed. “Fuck off…” your train of thought derails for a moment with the lazy flick and twist of Gareth’s wrist over his length. Licking your lips, you pose your intended question to the man inside of you. “I thought y’were gonna fuck me into the mattress.”
Eddie scoffs, a derisive and dangerous sound. “I am – fuck, just gettin’ this pussy warmed up. Christ, you’re that greedy for this cock, huh?” A fire ignites deep in those chocolate depths, and hauling himself up onto his knees, he drives his hips into yours, a cautious build of intensity and pace. “This whatcha want? Fucking – uhhyeah, this what you need? Huh?”
“Yes,” you whimper, screwing your eyes shut against the liquified warmth that coils tight in your belly. The fullness is exquisite, both satisfying and maximizing that carnal ache for every last inch of him. “Yes, yes –” you cry again, louder and pitchier than before, “fuck, Eddie –!”
The dam breaks; all control Eddie had evaporates with a sensual belt of his name. “Oh fuck yeah, say my name.” Your legs nearly lose their grip around his back with how fast and hard he ruts into you. “Again,” Eddie rasps harshly, “say it.”
Your mind is an open pit of all things Eddie – how he sounds, how he feels, how he makes you feel with every snap of his hips, every drive of his cock into your sodden core. He’s more than deserving of how you chant his name, a high and rough and repetitive bawl of your pleasure to fill his ears like lyrics to a new song.
“Ed,” the sound of Gareth’s husky ask has your eyes fluttering open, “how does she feel?”
“So fucking good,” the apex of every thrust is punctuated with a puff of air through Eddie’s nose, “so hot, so fuckin’ tight –”
His praise goes straight to your cunt. Heat unlike anything you’ve ever felt creeps over your skin like it’s aflame. Pleasure burns, churning and boiling your inside under the scorching gaze of these two gorgeous men. It’s their attention and the constant pounding of Eddie’s cock against your deepest parts that has you racing towards completion. Again.
This time though, you feel as if you can hold it off. You tense and clench, worrying your teeth through your bottom lip so hard it blanches. It almost works, too – the otherworldly sensations that lick at your insides plateau.
Until Gareth opens his stupidly sexy, lip-ringed mouth.
“She looks so pretty like this,” he murmurs to Eddie before zeroing in on how your breasts bounce with every hard slap of skin against skin. Gareth grunts lowly, keeping the pace of his hand up and down his length. “You do, you look so pretty taking Eddie’s fat cock.” A sinful grin splits his face, makes that silver ring sparkle as you whine. “He feel good? He does, doesn’t he? I know, I know…” he croons with a condescending sympathy that makes your walls flutter, “practically in your guts, pounding that pussy. Christ, listen to how fuckin’ wet you are –”
A wanton moan, high and feminine, is wrenched past your lips as your chin tips to the ceiling. Any ounce of authority you thought you had over delaying your orgasm has been torched, turned to dust by the white-hot passion that spills from Gareth’s mouth. Granted, they both have equal parts in elevating your pleasure, electrifying your senses – but the way they talk to you, Gareth in particular, is what’s ruined you the most.
“Oh, our little lady likes that, huh? C’mon Ed, tell her how wet she is.”
“So fucking wet,” the liquid lust in Eddie’s tone has roughened his voice to a mere husk, “Jesus –”
“Pussy is just sucking you in. Fuck, put her leg up so I can see.”
An obedient arm hooks under your leg in a flash, driving that knee into your chest as Eddie relentlessly bullies your cunt. The sight of your soaked outer lips gripping his girth makes Gareth swear under his breath, shuddering as his cock offers a substantial bead of precum. It leaks over his angry tip, so red and swollen and neglected; if you were closer, you’d reach out with your tongue and taste it. He’s quick to smear it down his shaft, fighting his own pleasure as he keeps up the erotic narrative.
“So greedy, we shoulda known. Haven’t even come on his cock yet and he’s soaked.”
“Goddamn right,” Eddie buries his face in your neck, sucking a mark behind your ear. “Could fuck you all night if you let me.”
Whines and whimpers are almost continuous at this point, each draw of breath is a reedy, wordless keen or a garbled version of Eddie’s name. It’s becoming harder and harder to hold off your release, especially as Gareth keeps spewing filth from those cherry-red lips.
“Y’ever been fucked like this, honey?” he asks, and on cue, Eddie slows down his frenetic pounding of your pussy to languid, easy strokes, palming the inside of your thighs to part them wide. The sight drops Gareth’s jaw slack while Eddie’s stays clenched in concentration. “Look at that, he’s gonna drag it out, go nice and slow.” Inked fingers clasp over Eddie’s hand with enviable tenderness, dragging his palm over your leg to press low on your belly. Gareth holds it there, keeping you open with his other while his unattended cock juts into your side. “Wring an orgasm out of her right now, aren’tcha Ed? Go on, big boy,” he says lowly as he moves to hover over your exposed cunt, directing a string of saliva to land at Eddie’s thumb as he finds your clit, “make her come.”
You’re soundless in how you scream, your shallow, reactive respirations don’t allow for enough air to make a proper noise. If it did? You’d tell them just how fucking hot that was, how that slick pressure provided by your arousal and Gareth’s spit is exactly what you need.
“The charade is up, we know we’ve won,” Eddie’s rhythm doesn’t falter as his thumb tightens its ministrations over your clit. “Might as well let go.”
“Get loud, honey,” Gareth echoes his friend’s sentiment, “we wanna hear you.” Answering with a musical whimper, and then another, you set them free, spilling into the sex-drenched air around you. “That’s it, lemme hear you, lemme hear all those sounds you’ve got pent up. C’mon, fucking give it to me, let go.”
The incessant writhing comes to an abrupt end as your muscles seize and pulse under the strength of your orgasm. You feel like it caves inward, a black hole of pleasure before it explodes in a wild, electrified constellation of prickling heat and want. Your pussy clamps around Eddie’s cock, coating that thin latex barrier in a fresh wave of your slick.
It’s the first time Eddie loses his rhythm. “Shit, fucking shit – she’s clenching so hard –”
You hear the delight in Gareth’s voice, his sandpaper rasp closer as he trails a blazing set of kisses over your temple. “Oh yeah? She get tight after she comes?”
“So fucking tight –”
A sultry whisper dances at your ear. “Good girl.”
You’re still drifting back to your body when Eddie drops your legs, using latent strength in those slender arms to flip you over onto your belly. You land with a muted oomph, unable to even enjoy the feathersoft comfort of the bedding before he hauls you up on all fours. Entering you swiftly this way sends him deeper, feeling full and spread as he regains his cadence. He groans your name, and you answer with a pornographic moan of your own as he redoubles his efforts, grabbing at your waist to slam you back over the length of his cock.
The new position is everything – never in your life have you ever been fucked so hard and needed more. Eddie’s crazed as he works you over, the rocking of his entire body enough to shake the bed and knock the headboard into the wall in loud, repetitive bangs.
You’d be embarrassed if you could be anything but blissed-out, a complete slave to every last fiery burst of pleasure as that thick cockhead drills against your sweet spot. It makes your head swim, how deeply you’ve fallen victim to his pleasure, and you drop to your forearms to try to regain your balance.
Almost immediately, you feel the heat of a hand at your bicep. “No, no – stay upright, honey.” A gentle tug guides you back up on your hands. “Come on, you can do it. Wanna see him fuck you stupid.”
Panting breaths escape in short bursts through your nose. “Oh, I – hmm –”
“Feels so good, doesn’t it? Tell me,” Gareth commands softly as you palm the headboard to keep steady, “tell me how good you feel.”
“S-so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back as Eddie fucks into you harder, “feels so good –”
Eddie huffs, one gravelly breath after another when he feels you start to push back on his cock with every thrust. His fingers find purchase on the flesh of your hips, aiding in your rhythm before clapping your ass to his pelvis. Then he changes pace, holding you here, pressing in with the most subtle roll and grind, hardly moving his cock an inch or two each way.
“Pussy is so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Couldn’t be deeper if I tried.”
Gareth groans. “Y’have no idea how good you look right now. Being so good for us, so good for Eddie.”
“That’s right,” Eddie gruffs, “taking my cock like she was made for it.”
In your lust-laden haze, you trail your eyes down Gareth’s frame as he lies on his side next to you. Your free hand wanders over the sea of covers, reaching towards where his fingers stroke over his shaft in rhythmic pumps. His cock is so close – you’re overcome with the need to help him, to give him something other than his hand to work with. There’s been no indication he needs it, other than the obvious dynamic imbalance. At least, that’s how you see it. Eddie’s fingers, tongue and cock have been buried inside of you almost continuously for the last… however long it’s been. In reality, all Gareth’s done is watch.
And look stupidly sexy as he fists his own dick.
Need rolls to a boil in your blood. He clocks your movements and somehow, your intent; as he angles his hips away, a slow smile stretches over his lips while he watches yours twist into a pout.
“No baby,” he scolds, chuckling softly as you protest with a petulant whine. “You just worry about you. Let Eddie and I take care of you, okay?”
Your eyebrows pinch as you argue. “But –”
“No,” he reiterates firmly. Gareth’s smile widens, and planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he rolls to his back and situates himself almost completely under you. “How ‘bout you put on a show for me, yeah?”
A strong forearm slithers across your chest, hauling you upright. Plush lips press against the sensitive skin behind your ear. “Y’wanna use that pretty mouth, baby?” Eddie asks as his hands roam over your front, cupping your breasts. “I know how you can. Why dontcha spit on his cock for him?”
That affects Gareth in the best way, lips parting in a gritty grunt as his hips thrust a little harder into his hand. “C’mon, sweetheart,” Eddie’s grip loosens over your collarbones to encourage you to lean forward, “give him more to work with.”
The man burns you with the fiery need in his stare, making you feel more sensual than you ever have. Your confident stare never once leaves Gareth’s. Allowing an ample amount of saliva to pool on your tongue, you hover over where his hand glides over his length. Gareth’s chest expands, holding his breath as a long, slow dribble slips past your lips to land with accuracy over the flared tip of his cock. The sound that is punched from his lungs could be called a whimper. You file that away in the depths of your brain, intent on revisiting it again and again when nights get lonely in your bed at home.
Eddie guides you against the hard sinew of his chest with ease. “Gonna make you come this way,” he promises as his cock bullies deeper in your core, “go on, play with your clit. Give our boy a show.”
Your body jerks in time with every hard snap of Eddie’s hips, making your fingers fumble as they slide over the slick skin between your legs. Circling above your hood, your touch is featherlight, jolting that crackling bundle of nerves awake. Despite your intentional tenderness, you’re still so sensitive it’s like you’ve gone numb. Not daring to increase the pressure just yet, you focus back on Gareth, nearly losing her mind at how downright sinful he looks stroking his cock to your every move.
Steel-gray eyes, long lashes, blazing stare – the heat is palpable, the tension so thick you could bite it. You shimmy your knees apart, widening your stance so he can better see how Eddie’s cock is gripped and swallowed by your greedy hole. The unfiltered lust smolders and builds intensity with every passing moment as heard in every breathy groan and desperate whine.
Soon, you progress to more direct swipes over your swollen clit, sucking that bottom lip between your teeth when oversensitivity threatens to spark pain instead of pleasure. The scale tips, a strong favoring of the latter, and that familiar band starts to wind and tighten in your belly with such force that your legs begin to shake.
Gareth takes notice, the effort to keep the cadence of his fist slow and measured is an obvious strain. “Almost there?”
“Mmmh – ye-yeah, yeah – so close, so close –”
“Hmmfuck,” he pants as his hand twists over the crown so angry it blooms a desperate shade of violet. “That’s it, honey. C’mon, keep workin’ your clit for us.”
Teetering on the edge, your release builds to its breaking point with edges so hot and sharp it almost hurts. “I – ohhgod, I –”
Your legs quake as your body gives way, orgasm ripping through you like you’ve been struck by lightning. It’s quick, an explosion of light behind lids slammed shut, flooding your system in molten, electric currents that have you curling in on yourself despite Eddie’s hold around your chest.
The shockwaves haven’t even begun to subside before you’re upended, flat on your back next to Gareth as your knees are shoved into your chest. Draping himself over the backs of your legs, Eddie practically folds you in half as he sheaths his cock to the hilt in one stroke.
That beautiful, brown-eyed man is everywhere – the fulness maximized in this new position as you belting a sweet cry. “Oh, fuck – Eddie! Eddie, yes – yes –!”
“God damn, Ed – that’s it, give it to her,” Gareth husks as his fists tightens over his cock, “come on, get loud for him. Louder, honey, louder. Want this whole fuckin’ city to know who fucks you so good.”
Though Eddie’s weight presses you into the mattress, Gareth’s gritty permission splits you wide open. Never in your life have you ever been this loud, this responsive; clawing at anything within your grasp. The lewd, wet sounds of skin slapping so loud, echoing off the high ceilings with every pitchy, open-mouthed scream you’re sure to have a noise complaint from four floors down.
Eddie pistons his hips, using the recoil on the bed to drive inside you hard and fast. Spewing forth a litany of praise and filth, your vision whites out as he chases his release. A tuck of his chin against his chest is his tell, and he announces his orgasm with a low, throaty groan. The pace of his hips never once lets up, even as his cock empties rope after rope of his spend into the condom.
You feel every twitch, every jolt of his length as it pulses inside you. Your name has never sounded better as it rolls from his parted lips, like a song full of wonder and awe and yet still drenched in the grit of need and sex. Eddie finally stills, losing the last of the air in his lungs as his body melts into yours.
A hitching sigh, and then a rasp of your name through gritted teeth comes synonymous with a dip in the bed. “Ed – m-move, man –” Gareth’s fist flies over his cock, fast and dirty as he nestles his knees next to your torso. “F-fuck, gonna – honey, open your mouth – yeah, that’s it –”
Eddie’s shaky as he rises to his knees, leaving Gareth enough room as he jerks himself to completion, painting your chest in thick, white ribbons of his cum. Eddie grunts his approval, soft and low and still seated inside your pussy, watching as you do as his drummer wrings every last drop of his spend on your tits.
Gareth’s chest is heaving, body shuddering with the final waves of his climax. His lips are parted in bliss, unable just like you to form proper words at the moment.
“Oh my fucking –” Eddie can’t even finish his thought before he’s smothering every available inch of your neck and cheeks in affection. His kisses are more like an open-mouthed drag of sticky, wet lips against sticky, wet skin. “Sweetheart, you did so good.”
Gareth hums in agreement, his knees give a telling wobble and he has to palm the abused headboard to keep from toppling over. Hesitant to slip out of you, Eddie stays buried while you all catch your breath, the return to your body aided by how Gareth’s fingers have found their way back to your hair, weaving in and out of your sweaty strands. You lie like this for some time, immersed in the heaviness of post-orgasmic bliss, hardly noticing when Eddie finally withdraws himself from your cunt. The sting of sensitive skin against the tacky rubber of the condom makes you hiss, and Eddie presses another sweet kiss to your mouth, whispering assurances how he’ll be right back to take care of you.
The bed shakes with Eddie’s departure, and immediately Gareth swoops in to hold you close, murmuring in your ear how good you were, how fucking amazing you are – over and over like a song he’s sang for years. He honors you more with the hard press of his lips against yours, all the while spouting praise you didn’t even know you longed to hear.
“I’ve got you, honey, I’ve got you – Christ, you’re something, you know that? So fuckin’ lucky to be holding you, so fuckin’ lucky you let us do this.”
Gareth is swift to press your body to his, you barely have time to react. “Hey, no wait – I’m all –”
“Dirty?” Those blue eyes flash, hot and aware. “Yeah, you are. That’s my cum, honey.” Chuckling devilishly, he pulls you closer to prove his point. “Would rather hold you than worry about a little bit of –”
“It’s not just a little bit,” you snort softly, reveling in the heat that radiates from the smooth planes of his chest.
He barks a laugh, the melody echoes in your bones and you think, maybe, that’s where it’ll stay. “No, it’s not.” He makes no effort to move. The smile lines around his eyes relax as he regards you with intention. “Are you okay?”
The short answer is yes, maybe even hell yes because you are… with one needling exception. “I didn’t even touch you,” you admit to his collarbones, your gaze pulled away from baby blue to trace the patterns of the vines that adorn the delicate skin there.
“You didn’t have to,” he’s quick to assure, “fuckin’ looked so good, I came just watching you.”
It’s something, but it’s not enough. You entered new territory tonight in a variety of ways – what novice understanding you have of threesomes is that all parties are involved. Logical to believe there are variations, but tonight’s just not the way you thought it would go.
Plainly stated, you really thought he’d fuck you, too.
“Oh,” you breathe, your heart leaps into your throat at how disappointed you sound. Clearing your throat, you try to hide it by turning it back on him. “You’re not… um, not mad you didn’t get a – a turn?”
Your lips purse in a grimace with how you just worded it, but Gareth seems to find it endearing. “No.” He genuinely sounds like he isn’t. “Couldn’t ever be mad at you.”
His sincerity makes your stomach swoop. “I just feel bad.”
Regarding you through narrow slips of baby blue, you see it as it clicks. “Ohh,” that maddening smirk is back, “are you saying you wanted to touch me?” Gareth play-gasps, the ink on his right hand ripples as he splays it theatrically over his heart. “Are you saying you want me to touch you?”
Yes. That’s exactly what you’re saying, but the way he’s grinning has you playing into it, and retorting with an unconvincing, “No.”
Pools of seaglass sparkle with mirth. “You definitely are.”
Your defiance is weakened with the grin that splits your features, but you try for it to keep up the charade. “No, I am not –”
“You are,” sandy-blonde curls fly in chaotic disarray as he smothers your lips in kisses, making you squeal. “You are –”
“Sorry to interrupt this nauseating little moment,” Eddie smirks, “but I come bearing gifts for our girl, here.”
Even as Eddie attends to you with gentle swipes of that warm cloth, Gareth’s affections aren’t deterred. He mouths along your jaw, nipping at the lobe of your ear. “Just admit it, honey…”
You squirm in his hold, though there’s no real effort to get yourself away. Eddie climbs up the bed, stretching his frame alongside you to wipe the mess from your chest. “Admit what?” he asks, dragging the cloth beneath your chin to direct your stare to him.
Gareth grins into the sultry skin of your neck. “She wants me so badly.”
Rolling your eyes, you ask Eddie, “Is he always this insufferable?”
“Always, sweetheart.” Eddie tosses the rag away and sighs, pinning you in place with an ardent dark chocolate stare. “How are you doing?”
“Fucking excellent,” you reply truthfully. You allow yourself to bask in the heat of their presence, to feel the comfort in skin on skin contact before confessing meekly, “I guess I better get going. I, uh… lost our bet. Badly.”
Eddie snorts, chasing away the tightness in your smile. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. Stay in bed, princess.” Kiss-bitten lips twist in a wry grin. “Wasn’t ever gonna make you leave, anyway.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Gareth nuzzles at the back of your neck. “We’re not complete assholes.”
“You kinda are,” you scoff a half-laugh.
He draws you closer to his chest with a tug of his arm still loped around your middle. “Think you like it, though.”
Tired banter bubbles over three sets of lips, slowly fading as the night grows older. You vaguely make out offers for Eddie to turn on the shower for you, or even to draw you a bath. Gareth, not to be outdone, tells you he’d brush your teeth before they go if you asked, which has you snickering into your pillow… until your brain catches up with what he’s just said.
“You’re gonna go?” you ask, suddenly wide awake when you notice they’re clothed and you’re very much still… not. “Where?”
“My room,” Gareth answers, “just down the hall.”
“We can leave you in peace, princess,” Eddie sweeps his slender arms grandly about his space. “A room fit for one, yeah?”
You shrug away your disappointment, snuggling further under the duvet, trying to hide the fact you know your face fell as soon as they announced they’d let you be. Schooling your expression neutral, you give them a convincing nod.
Not convincing enough. Gareth cocks his head to the side as he regards you carefully. “Unless…”
Eddie mercifully fills in the blanks. “You don’t want us to go?”
“Yeah, honey?” His bandmate takes a cautious step forward, but you can hear the hope sear through his tone. “You want us to stay?”
But still, your eyebrows tent uncertainly over your nose. “If that’s okay –”
“Fuck yeah it’s okay,” Eddie launches himself back in the bed, jostling you roughly as he lands at your side. “We’ll gladly stay.” A groan full of fatigue rumbles up through his throat as soon as his head hits the pillow. “So fuckin’ tired –”
Gareth’s already rid himself of his shirt, diving beneath the covers to wrap your naked frame to his. “He snores,” he whispers in your ear, making you giggle. “Better stay close to me.”
“I heard that,” Eddie grumbles, turning and throwing a heavy arm around your waist.
A gravelly, “I meant you to, big boy,” is the last thing you hear before your eyes slip closed and you succumb to the warmth of their bodies and the pull of sleep.
*
The next morning arrives swiftly, beginning with smooth assurances and gentle kisses as you still lie tucked in bed. Satiety hasn’t seeped from your chest, not by a long shot; and the way the two men made sure you felt that way prior to their near-silent departure from the suite.
Soon, early morning views of crystalline blue waves from Lake Michigan are replaced with spacious, turquoise planes of the Atlantic. You arrive in Hilton Head at sunset, smiling to yourself as a luxury SUV replaces your complimentary hotel shuttle from the airport. You feel invigorated, pampered almost as you’re helped in the back by the valet, a lively young woman with a stylish shag and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her dainty nose. She puts you right at ease, inviting you to imbibe in the iced-down bottle of Rose as she brings the stereo to a comfortable listening level.
“I was informed you liked Tool,” she chirps, blue-green eyes sparkling at your blush via the rearview mirror.
Maybe it’s no surprise, but you’ll swear to your grave it is – the kind attendant at the front desk informs you of an upgrade to an oceanview suite, complete with an envelope addressed to you in a tidy, unfamiliar scrawl.
You can hardly contain your excitement as you ride the elevator to your room for the next week, but it nearly bursts from your chest as you examine the contents of the envelope.
Enclosed are tickets to an upcoming Corroded Coffin show, ensuring an experience fit for the princess you are. Your core clenches in anticipation, despite the sweet soreness that still lingers from the night before.
Especially as you turn your ticket over and read:
It’s my turn. See you soon, honey.
a/n: thank you for reading! smash that reblog key or leave me a comment m, if you’re so inclined. i swear every time it makes my heart go vrrrrrrrr
Summary: When the hot older man in the neighborhood becomes a regular at your coffee shop, you can't help but let your shameless flirting take over. And maybe, just maybe, the fantasies are reciprocated.
CW: 12k words, 18+ !!! modern!Eddie, older!Eddie, d/s dynamics, daddy!kink, slight ddlg themes, soooo many fucking pentanes I'm sorry, choking, slapping, oral (f receiving), sex, lots of flirting
AN : Wow , it's been so long since I have actually sat down and written a full fic and holy fuck did I miss it. I hope you guys enjoy my entirely self indulgent older Eddie fic. As always, I love you so so so much and if you enjoy it please share and leave feedback <3 - Vi
“There’s no way you’re old enough to know or like the Grateful Dead,” The deep voice shakes you from your scrolling.
To be fair, a customer hasn’t come in in almost 45 minutes, leaving you with no more counters to rescrub, and cups to restock. So, yes, you’ve been scrolling.
“I know you’re not about to quiz me,” you joke back to the man in front of you. He must be at least in his mid 30s, his long curly hair accompanied by tattoos all across his arms. You’ve never seen him in the small coffee shop before, which is weird considering you know just about everyone in this town, but you can already tell he’s a joker.
What you don’t expect is the way his smirk makes your cheeks get hot.
“Alright alright, no quizzes…today,” he smiles, glancing over the menu. You pretend to make yourself busy pulling a shot of espresso, trying not to look at the way he bites his lip while he’s focusing.
His eyes look up to meet yours, knowingly. “I’ll just have an iced Americano.”
You nod. “Small or large?”
“Large.”
You chuckle. “What?” He asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You try to bite your tongue, you really really do, you shouldn’t be flirting with this man.
But you’re a barista, and honestly, it’s part of the job. “Nothin,” you say, eyebrows raised as you pull up his total on the small screen in front of him.
He taps his card to the screen without even looking. His eye contact with you only falters as he scans over your body. “No no, let me in on the little joke,” he taunts.
You move over to the espresso machine, and there’s no way he’s not looking at your ass. You’re so lucky there’s no one else here.
“It’s just that,” you start, holding back your own laugh. “Of course you get an iced americano. You’re not at the old dad level of drip coffee, or hot americano, yet.” His eyebrows raise at that.
You focus on pulling your espresso shots. “An iced americano just makes sense,” you shrug.
He leans on the end of the counter. “You think you got me all figured out?”
“I didn’t say that,” you challenge, a little nervous you might have upset him. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to charm a customer and they didn’t bite. You grab the large cup and scoop ice into it, your back toward him as you try to think of ways to mend the situation.
He claps his hands together, making you jump slightly as you pour water over the ice. “Okay, 20something barista with tattoos, what’s my star sign?”
You scoff. “Really?” You ask, staring him down, holding your ground as you realize he enjoys your banter.
“Watch the-” He interrupts. You poured water all over the floor. Super smooth.
Shrug it off.
You inhale and purse your lips, your tongue poking your cheek as you know he’s got you flustered. You pour the shots in the cup, plop a lid on and hand it to him over the counter, leaning over slightly as you do. He doesn’t back away, and the close proximity makes your heart pound. “Hmmm,” you hum, using your observation skills as an excuse to check him out.
He doesn’t waiver at all, just swirls the cup in front of him as he waits.
“Aquarius or Scorpio,” you decide. It’s a little bit of a shot in the dark but -
He laughs. “I knew you’d believe in the star shit.”
You mouth drops and you put your hands on your hips, in disbelief at his little game. “Tell me I’m wrong!” You prompt him, but he shakes his head and sips his drink.
“Tell me you’re not an aquarius or scorpio,” you ask again.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“So I’m right,” you laugh, wiping down the counter and walking to grab more rags from under the counter. You hear him shuffling on the other side of the counter as you come up and start to clean the spill you made moments before.
“It’s good coffee,” he smiles, then turns to walk toward the door.
You can’t help the smile that adorns your face as well. “What’s your name?” You call out before he leaves.
“Eddie,” he does a small bow.
You roll your eyes. “See ya tomorrow Eddie,” you smile.
He leaves with a nod of his head.
And that is how you met Eddie Munson.
Over the next few weeks, the flirting was shameless. It started only when you two just so happened to be alone, him finding his way into the shop every morning you happened to work, before anyone else came in for the later shifts. It always started the same, a small, knowing smile gracing both of your faces as you gave him a simple, “Hi Eddie,” to start his day.
“Hi dollface,” he’d sometimes respond. Other times it was, “Hey honey,” or maybe even a “Mornin’ sweetheart.” He might have even called you sweet cheeks once, but the days start to blur.
As the time goes, you learn more about him, what he does for work, that he has a real piece of work for an ex-wife who he has to try and appease constantly to see his son, that he works in music production and teaches private lessons, as well as being a pretty big nerd with his favorite movies and tv shows. He asks about you, and what your life is like, but you only give him small details, knowing that you fall hard and this was simply a 10-15 minute work transaction to look forward to most days.
You kept up your customer service appeal, while also flirting with him, trying to make it so he would absolutely never know if you had a bad day. But sometimes it’s not that easy.
“Mornin’ sweetheart, how are you?” The brown eyed man asks, his voice taking the air away from you.
You had been hoping he wouldn’t come in today.
“I’m alright Eddie. Want your usual?” You ask, avoiding eye contact as you start on his drink.
“Yeah,” he responds, but he’s hesitant. He waits for your witty banter, a sly comment, or even a smile in his direction but it doesn’t come.
“Hey,” he says, his voice softer. “Did I do something? I can absolutely fuck off if you want me to,” he chuckles.
You immediately feel bad. You don’t want him to think he’s doing anything wrong. “No no no,” you say, trying to smile. “It’s just a weird day.”
“It’s already weird?” He chuckles. “It’s a Tuesday at 7AM.”
You sigh. “It’s my birthday.”
For one of the first times since he started coming into your store, Eddie is quiet.
You slide his drink across the counter. “See? I didn’t want to make it awkward. Birthdays are just weird,” you laugh.
His eyes are distant until they look up at your own. “Happy birthday,” Eddie says, a small smile on his pink lips.
“Thanks,” you reply softly.
“You deserve a good one. Go celebrate yourself,” he says. You nod slowly, knowing this is the talk you always get on your birthday. You never know how to celebrate, and quite honestly don’t want to anyway. It’s been a weird day for you since you were a kid and it’s only gotten slightly more socially acceptable to disregard it as a whole as you’ve gotten older.
You both just stand there, the air different than before, and you regret having said anything at all.
Thankfully, another customer walks in, making you go to the register and put on a smile.
“See you tomorrow,” Eddie says, and you just reply with a wave of your hand as he walks out the door.
You’re not sure why it happened, and honestly don’t even really want to admit it, but you felt like after that day you had to try and keep your conversations with Eddie to be even more casual. No more flirting.
“Hey baby bear,” Eddie waltzes in, grin wide as he sees you behind the counter as per usual.
You try to hide your smile, trying to focus. “Baby bear?” You ask. You hate how much it makes your stomach twist with excitement.
“Yeah,” he smiles back at you, leaning on the counter. You swear it always feels like you two are the only people in the goddamn world. Not like anyone could walk in at any moment.
“You’re like a cute little bear,” he says, and it looks as if he didn’t mean to, almost like he surprised himself by saying his thoughts out loud.
You focus your attention on the espresso machine. You swear suddenly you’ve never made a coffee for this man in your entire life, your hands fumbling awkwardly with the ice cup.
From the corner of your eye you can see how he is tapping his fingers on the counter, looking around the shop as if he’s never seen the wallpaper before. Is he embarrassed?
“What are you up to today?” You ask, trying to ease some of the tension.
Eddie whips around to look at you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise that you are still talking to him. “Taking my boy out to the park for some kids concert thing they have going on,” he says casually. He tries to play it off like it’s something he does all the time, but you know when he spends time with his son, especially doing something he loves like listening to music, it means a lot to him. And, honestly, it makes your heart swell to see him be a good father.
“That’s adorable,” you smile.
Eddie smiles but looks away from you again.
Sometimes you wish you could just go across the counter and hug him. He seems so safe, so open and funny and flirty and sweet.
And then you remind yourself you barely even fucking know him and he’s simply a flirty customer at your coffee shop.
“What about you bear? Doing anything once you're off work?”
You add cinnamon to the top of his iced americano, a habit he’s now picked up since you started doing it for him. He loves that you do it now without him even asking.
“Mmmm,” you hum, wiping down the counter as you hand him his drink. You try to avoid eye contact and make busy, attempting to stick to your plan of giving distance with him.
“I think just being boring and getting groceries, cleaning, making some dinner,” you admit.
Eddie sips his drink and leans forward on the counter, watching you pretend to be busy working. “I don’t understand,” he mutters.
Your eyebrows quirk up as you lean over to restock milk. He takes a peak at your ass and has to refrain from readjusting himself right there in front of you. Something about you turns him into an insatiable teenager again.
“I just don’t understand how a sweet thing like you doesn’t have plans on a Friday night,” he says, his eyes lifting from the ground to meet your own when you face him.
You bite your lip and chuckle, trying not to roll your eyes. “I like my own company,” you shrug. And it’s true. Going out has never been your MO, and you haven’t been asked out on a proper date in God knows how long. You make an effort to see your friends, but sometimes the best nights are the ones where you’re chilling by yourself.
“Smart girl,” he says, nodding as he backs away from the counter slowly.
“Have fun at the park Eddie,” you say, trying to ignore the ache in your heart that so badly wants him to stay and entertain you.
Eddie chuckles, revealing that smirk that could make anyone a little nervous. He’s so goddamn handsome.
“Have fun…with yourself,” he says, his voice a little lower than usual. You feel your breath hitch slightly, caught off guard by the not-so-subtle innuendo.
You try to say something quick in response, but he winks at you and walks out the door before you can.
So much for casual.
As night comes and you have mindless reality television playing while you indulge in some pasta, you find yourself scrolling instagram. Your coffee shop is only a popular spot because of its social media presence and aesthetic, which makes people who would never drive through the small town find a reason to stop and take pictures. You’re looking through the new followers and seeing how the stats are doing when a familiar name pops up as someone who liked a recent picture of latte art : @ munsonnmusic
You stare at it for a minute, the temptation oh so real as your thumb hovers over the screen.
You have to.
You click on his handle and scroll through his profile, which is exactly as you’d think a 30-something would be on instagram. Low quality pictures of guitars and studios, a few promoting his business, one or two of his son and funny things he probably saw on the street, with even less pictures of himself. The one that he does have, though, is from his birthday a few months ago when he turned 37, which also makes him a fucking Scorpio.
You laugh to yourself. What an idiot.
What you didn’t realize, was when you laughed at his audacity, you liked his picture.
And what you never would’ve known, is that he got the notification on his phone and his heart immediately skipped, because he recognized your name not only because it’s you but because he has already stalked your page countless times. You don’t post like some mid-20’s kids, in fact you post much less, but there are one or two really good pictures that show off your curves that he may or may not have taken advantage of in his own alone time.
But you liked his picture, on a Friday night at 11PM just after you gave him the knowledge that morning that you would be alone tonight.
He followed you immediately.
You hadn’t noticed since you were already dozing off on the couch and had to be up at 5:30AM yet again to open the shop in the morning.
-
You thought you were dreaming when you saw it in your rush to get ready. Eyes blurry and head fuzzy from sleep, the new follower on your instagram didn’t seem to make any sense. Eddie? No.
You fully ignored it and rushed your way to getting ready, hair in some braids and a tank top with jeans to adorn your languid body. Caffeine was a desperate need.
It wasn’t until about 10 minutes before the shop opened that you felt the buzz on your phone. You figured it must be your boss asking you to check something, but it wasn’t. It was an instagram notification. From munsonnmusic .
Your eyes squinted at your screen, staring at the DM in shock. All it read was a little coffee cup and a question mark.
“☕?”
You don’t respond. Instead you make yourself an iced americano and re-wipe the already clean counter.
He walked through the door 15 minutes later.
He enters with a smirk on his face, a knowing smirk that has you biting the inside of your cheek. The tension in the air was thick. He had your instagram, and you had his. Suddenly this customer-barista interaction felt a lot bigger than the small coffee shop.
“Good morning sweet thing,” he says, his brown eyes seem slightly darker this morning.
You inhale slowly. This felt like a game of chess.
“Good morning Eddie,” you reply, slightly too formal. You don’t begin making his drink like you usually do, instead you stand perfectly still behind the register, your arms crossed over your chest.
You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest, no doubt seeing the way your tits look pressed up as you cross your arms over them. You feel your heartbeat in your throat.
“How was your night in?” He asks, but with a hint of suggestiveness. Like he knows your secret - a secret you don’t know.
You can’t get a read on him. The typically quick banter is replaced with this tension that you could feel weighing on your chest, and between your legs. “It was…” you start, averting your eye contact.
“Chill,” you decide.
Eddie chuckles. “Chill,” he repeats.
You nod, not sure where else to go with this. “Chill,” you say again. “Want your usual?”
He quirks his head, his eyes narrowing some as you pull the iced cup from behind you. He scoffs.
“What?” you ask, so unsure of where he is at the moment.
“Alright bear, we can pretend you didn’t stalk my instagram and like one of my pictures last night. That’s fine,” he shrugs.
Your heart stops and you swear your face turns bright red. There’s no fucking way.
Unless…God you were an idiot. Of course that’s how he found you. Why would he go out of his way to find your instagram??
“That was an accident,” you say, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment, and horribly failing.
He laughs, “Honey, it’s okay. I found it kind of adorable. I guess that’s how kids flirt nowadays.”
You throw ice into the cup and stare at him with an open mouth.
“I wasn’t - that wasn’t me flirting with you,” you stutter. You’re absolutely losing this battle.
He nods slowly, his smile growing on his face. He loves seeing you flustered. “Right, right,” he says. “And I don’t flirt with you every morning,” he shrugs sarcastically.
God, your head feels fucking dizzy. So he’s admitting that he knows what he does to you every morning? You never thought he would actually intend anything behind the banter, thinking he looked at you like a kid, not someone he would actually…see in some capacity outside of work.
You’re stuck in place as he wanders to the far side of the counter, waiting expectantly for his drink.
“You know I wasn’t fully sure after your birthday, felt like things changed. But now I’m not so sure,” he says, leaning on his elbows on the counter, looking at you.
So he had caught on to your shift, and he didn’t like it. You never would have thought that he actually cared about your little interactions every day. You need to get a grip.
He’s probably just messing with you, embarrassing you for accidentally liking a picture from months ago like a loser. “So you’re going to act like you don’t flirt with every barista you talk to?” You quip, both trying to gain some ground in the conversation, but also trying to see what exactly he is getting at.
He rolls his eyes as you pull the espresso shots for his drink. “Only the pretty and witty ones with tattoos,” he smiles. Your cheeks redden immediately.
You pour water into his cup and float the shot on top before swirling it slowly as you walk toward him.
“Are we going to act like you don’t flirt with every customer like this?” he retorts with a dimpled grin. Your hand stops swirling the drink as you decide your next move. You look up at him with long lashes and big eyes, and instead of handing him his drink you hold it hostage on your side of the counter.
“Only the handsome witty dads with tattoos,” you smirk, feeling bold.
His smile mirrors yours as you hand him his drink and brush hands. You swear you feel an electric shock run through your body as his ringed fingers touch yours. Your bold exterior melts immediately as you sharply inhale at the touch.
He can’t believe the effect he has on you, knowing that you do that and more to him.
“Thank you for the coffee baby,” he says softly, his voice dropping in a way you haven’t heard from him before.
Your heart pounds, and your thighs clench together.
“Always,” you smile softly.
He smiles back at you, and if you didn’t know any better, his eyes flick down to your lips, making you bite them out of habit. He inhales deeply before taking the coffee and walking out of the shop.
You swear you could faint right then and there.
What the hell just happened?
With what all started as a harmless flirtationship with your regular customer has possibly turned into something…dangerous. This man was at least ten years older than you and had a child and an ex-wife - and was extremely sexy, a musician, and hell he knew how to talk his way around.
Maybe to him this was just entertainment. He could just flirt with the little barista and go about his life, getting a small thrill out of flustering you. You tried to be colder, not give him the time of day, but you fucked up going on his instagram.
The problem is that Eddie was your perfect type of poison. Older, attractive, confident, tattoos, witty, and gives you attention…nevermind the small stories you two have shared shows you have more in common than you may have thought. And it makes for you wanting him in between your legs. Desperately.
And you’re terrible at hiding it.
The entire rest of the shift you were distracted, your mind going places about Eddie that you had tried to avoid before, but found impossible now.
By the time you were off, you barely even remembered most of the day, it felt like it passed by in a haze.
You checked your phone and found notifications from Eddie liking a handful of your pictures. Specifically ones that had your full body in them.
And a DM waiting for you:
E: “Just had to tell you how pretty you looked today.”
You waited to respond, trying to clear your head from everything that is him, try to think a little clearer and come up with your own intentions before moving forward. Regardless of what he wants, you have to try and be honest about what you want.
After a shower, some food, and a nap, you respond.
Careful, if you keep saying things like that I might actually start to like you.
You bite the skin around your fingernails as you await a response, a bad habit you’ve had since childhood. It says he hasn’t been active, so you put your phone down and try to indulge yourself into a book as you relax on the couch.
No more than ten minutes pass before your phone buzzes.
You’re ashamed at how fast you pick it up to check.
E: Aw, and here I was thinking you already did, baby bear.
You smile to yourself as your thumbs hover over the screen, unsure what to send next. It’s hard when you can picture Eddie at home, maybe just in some sweats, maybe he’s in bed or on his own couch, looking at pictures of you, thinking about you…
Your hand starts to drift between your legs.
God just thinking about him makes you wet.
Don’t get ahead of yourself mister.
You stare at the screen, letting your slightly lust drunk brain take the wheel as you slowly circle your finger over the small bump of your clit in your panties. You feel your stomach turn when you see the little bubble indicating he’s typing.
E: You make it so hard.
Your brain immediately thinks of other things.
E: I like when you call me that.
You literally groan out loud. This is dangerous, so dangerous. You know how you get when you connect with someone, and you’re so so scared Eddie just might want to fuck. Which, honestly, would probably be incredible, but there’s no way you wouldn’t want him to baby you after.
Sometimes you hate how vulnerable sex can be for you. You have a hard time just hooking up, especially if you get into that subby space you often fall into with the right person. And there’s no doubt in your mind that, if he acts anything like he already does, Eddie would do that to you.
But you’re already clouded with lust and figure it can’t hurt to fuck around a little.
What’s hard, mister? You taunt. You know exactly what you’re insinuating.
E: Now you’re the one who needs to be careful baby
You smirk to yourself as you continue to slowly rub circles between your legs. You can’t help but wonder if he’s touching himself too .You have no idea how far to take this.
You bite your lip as you remove the hand in your pants. Is that what you want? Me to be careful?
You wait anxiously. If he asked you to come over right now you would have a really fucking hard time saying no. And you hate it.
The typing bubble pops up and disappears again.
Then pops back up.
E: I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
You already begin typing out a response, but he’s faster.
E: But what I really want is for you to be with me right now.
Your mouth drops open and your heart beats faster.
Is it bad I want that too? You ask genuinely. As much as you wish you could be upfront and take the lead with it all, you can’t. You’re way too nervous to look like an idiot kid flirting with a grown man. Maybe this is just some little fantasy for him, and not something he would actually act on.
E: No sweetheart, not at all. It’s great. But I should turn this stupid phone off before I say something really bad. I’ll see you in the morning?
Your heart drops. Of course he wasn’t going to invite you over tonight like some college hookup. You don’t even know what you were thinking. And now you have to see him at work in the morning and, what, act like everything is cool? Fuck.
You just send back the coffee emoji and put your phone down.
Needless to say your dreams are filled with images of Eddie’s mouth and hands all over your body.
You were anxious. You were waiting for him to walk through the door all morning, but as the time passed, you lost hope. Maybe he regretted messaging you. Maybe he was embarrassed or ashamed. Maybe he just couldn’t face you.
It’s 10AM, and he’s usually in by 7.
You sigh and turn around to cut up some lemons and wash mint. Maybe you just need to call an old hookup, get it out of your system so you can stop thinking about Eddie.
Then the door opens, and he walks through, a little flustered compared to his usually calm demeanor.
You can’t help the small smile that takes over your face seeing him come in. But you don’t want to give it up too easily.
“You’re in late today,” you mention, keeping your attention on cutting the lemons in front of you.
He chuckles, amused that you pay attention to the small details, like what time he usually comes in to see you - buy coffee. “Sorry bear, had to drop the boy off at baseball practice this morning,” he smiles.
You nod, unsure of what to say next, unsure of how to continue after last night. You feel extremely vulnerable, and it sucks because you know you could just tell him not to bother you again, to not message you, but it’s the exact opposite of what you want.
“You’re quiet again,” he notices.
You inhale a shaky breath at him calling you out. Of course he notices you- “Fuck -f fuck,” you mutter, having cut your hand slightly from the lemons.
Eddie immediately is concerned. “What? What are you okay?” He asks, leaning over the counter, trying to get a view of where you are gripping your hand and running it under the sink.
“I’m fine, it’s fine, just slipped the knife,” you say, inhaling through your teeth as the water stings your hand.
You wrap a towel around it quickly before facing Eddie. His face is full of concern, his brown eyes like a puppy’s. “It’s really okay Eddie,” you assure him, trying to ease his worried features.
“Let me see,” he says with a nod of his head.
You shake your head no. “I said it’s fine - do you want your -”
“I said, let me see,” he interrupts, his tone more commanding. You still at his voice, immediately making you weak as he shows how much he cares. You slowly unwrap your hand and extend it to show him.
He holds your wrist lightly as he looks at the small cut. You have to refrain from wiggling under his hold, the way he is so tender with you makes you want to cry right then and there.
It really is nothing, just a small cut that felt a lot worse because of the lemon stinging it in the process.
“You should leave it wrapped so you don’t get espresso dust in it,” he says, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command. You nod in response, pulling your hand back toward you.
His eyes meet yours and it feels as though the air stills between you. His eyebrows are still slightly knitted together from concern, his biceps look huge as he crosses his arms across his chest to take you in.
“You okay?” He asks seriously.
You nod, but quickly look down at the register to punch in his order. “Hey,” he calls your attention.
“You sure?” he asks again. You sigh and your shoulders drop from the tension you were holding in them.
“Yeah, yeah Eddie I’m fine,” you smile softly at him. But the knit between his brows doesn’t rest at your response.
His hand comes to rub his chin. “Not just from the lemons. Are you okay after last night?”
You wish you could throw yourself out a fucking window. Why is he so goddamn receptive? It’s almost worse that he notices and cares so much. It would almost be easier if he could just use you and then never talk to you again. Instead he has to have a fucking heart.
You try to laugh it off. “Nothing even happened last night,” you fake smile, then punch in his order and begin to move to the espresso machine.
He scoffs as he pays, then throws a 10 dollar bill in the tip jar. You try not to roll your eyes.
“Really?” He smirks, back to being playful. “Guess I need to not hold back so much.”
You smile and shake your head, still too shaken to make eye contact with him despite feeling his eyes absolutely trained on you.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” you lie.
“Mmmm,” he tuts in response. “Then look at me,” he challenges. You shake your head no as you finish making his drink. You know you’re a goner once you get sucked in by those big brown eyes.
“Baby,” he warns. The word makes your breath shake. “Look at me,” he repeats.
You finally do let your eyes meet his as you hand him his drink, and you immediately feel weak. You can’t hide the effect he has on you, and it’s not fair. You wish you were better at this, wish you weren’t so goddamn transparent and easy to read. This is why you don’t let people in easily.
“Aw, there she is,” he taunts. You lean on the counter between you two on your elbows, your head dropping to your hands as you groan.
He chuckles at your dramatics. He can’t let it show, but you have the exact same effect on him. He could drop to his knees for you at any moment. He loves your wit, your banter, your eyes, and the way you look at him like he knows all the secrets in the world.
His hand moves hesitantly, checking behind him to make sure no one else is walking in or by the store, as he places a finger under your chin to bring your gaze back up to him. “Don’t hide baby,” he smiles at you.
You pout. You are absolute putty in his hands. “I’m trying to be good Eddie,” you whine. You’ve been hurt so many times before, you told yourself you wouldn’t get caught like this again.
“And you are,” he assures you. “I’m the mean man who has a hard time resisting you,” he admits.
He releases his hand from under your chin and backs up from you with a chuckle. One of his hands goes behind his head as the other points at you leaning over the counter like a pouting kid. “Should I find a different coffee shop baby? I don’t want to make your life hard,” he asks genuinely.
“No, please no,” you say immediately, standing up tall. You come back to yourself as best as you can. You don’t want him to leave, you don’t want to lose him, even if it’s just losing the daily interactions. You don’t care if it can’t be more.
He exhales with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing back and forth as he tries to regain control of himself.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiles with tight lips. You go to say something, anything to make him stay. But you know you can’t, you shouldn’t, so you just smile back.
He grabs his drink, but before he leaves he shoots you a dimpled grin. “Keep your hand wrapped up please,” he says.
You roll your eyes. “Yes sir,” you mock reply with a salute.
But it makes him groan. “Can’t say that shit to me sweetheart!” he calls as he leaves, the door closing all too slowly behind him as you watch him walk off.
God, you’re in trouble.
-
You manage to make it through the night without messaging Eddie. It took everything in you, but you did it. And when he messages you in the morning with a “ ☕?” , you just reply with a thumbs down. You have the next two days off and maybe, just maybe, you can shake Eddie from your system.
You called your friend, Joanna, to come over for a movie night. You welcome the distraction, listening to her rant about her boyfriend problems and how much she hates grad school. The night starts out easy, very chill, until she gets a text from said boyfriend.
“Why the fuck is he out right now?” She yells over the television, standing up from the couch as she shoves her phone in your face.
It’s a picture of her stupid boyfriend out at a bar, posted on one of her other friend’s instagram stories.
“He said he was just ‘hanging out’ with the boys. He didn’t say he was going to a fucking bar,” she vents. She starts pacing the small living room. You stare at her from under your blanket on the couch.
“Maybe he’s hanging with the boys at the bar?” You say, trying to ease her anger. She may be overreacting, but her boyfriend hasn’t been known to be the most reliable and loyal type.
“Get up, we’re going,” she says, grabbing your hand. She starts to drag you toward your bedroom as you protest.
“What? No no no Jo please I just want to stay in,” you whine.
“This is an emergency!” She cries at you, going through your closet and changing her baggy shirt for one of your tanktops. “If you’re really my friend you’ll come with me to confront him!”
You roll your eyes. “I am your friend, even if your boyfriend totally fucking sucks,” you say, grabbing the small cropped shirt from her hands and throwing it on your bed.
“Sweats off, jeans on, tiny shirt on,” she says, throwing more clothes at you. She starts snapping. “Let’s go, no time to waste!”
You groan as she stomps out of the room to the bathroom and applies some lipstick. You change into the high waisted jeans and top and shake your hair out of its clip. You don’t bother with any other makeup. You grab your keys as she grabs hers and try to drone console her as she starts word vomiting about him possibly hooking up with some girl at a “sleazy bar”.
Jo drove, much to your dismay, but she said she needed to so she could focus, plus she knew exactly which bar he was at.
It took no more than 15 minutes to get to the bar, red and blue lights flickering with a few men smoking cigarettes outside the front door. They whistle at you two, but Jo is on a mission as she marches past them, dragging you behind.
You enter the bar and scan the floor with her. But just as she sees her boyfriend, you see someone else - Eddie.
He’s at a pool table with two other men who seem to be playing against Jo’s boyfriend and his friends. And he looks so fucking good.
He has a ciggie hanging out of his mouth and is wearing dark maroon dickies instead of his usual black jeans. A fitted black shirt adorns his top, accentuating his build and his tattoos in the dim light. He has a necklace with a guitar pick, and his usual set of rings on. His hair is loose and messy, his cheeks slightly red from the flush of the bar.
You’re stopped in your tracks as Joanna marches toward her boyfriend. She is on such a rampage she doesn’t realize you’re barely following behind her as she confronts her boyfriend.
“What the fuck are you doing?” She yells. You stay behind her slightly, trying to escape embarrassment as her boyfriend and friends all look at her like she’s crazy. She pulls his hand and stomps toward the front door, passing by you in the process. “We’ll be back,” she says, and leaves you standing in disbelief.
That’s when Eddie sees you.
His face goes from twisted confusion at the interaction, to a dark smirk as he takes a drag from his cigarette.
You don’t move. You meet his gaze and immediately look away, trying to see if you can find a bathroom to hide in until Jo is done with her screaming match. But your view is blocked by the man in black now standing in front of you.
Without the separation of the counter like at the shop, you realize how much taller and bigger he is than you, and it’s even more intimidating. He keeps some distance, but not much.
The bar is loud, but you swear it seemed to close in to silence as he stood in front of you and checked you out. He wasn’t hiding it at all.
“That your friend?” He smirks, nodding toward the front door Joanna just walked out.
You nod slowly. “Gotta love her,” you say. Eddie chuckles.
“You want a drink? They might be a minute,” he suggests. Before you can answer he has his hand on the small of your back, lighting you on fire from his touch, and guides you to the bar.
He orders for you, as you look at him in silence. You can feel the little devil in you coming out as he smirks your way. You let yourself check him out again as he does the same to you, both of you sipping slowly on your drinks as you let the silence fill the air between you.
“Never thought I’d be lucky enough to see you past 10am,” he says.
You laugh. “I could say the same to you mister,” you smile.
His knee knocks into yours, and suddenly it’s significantly harder to breathe. His presence truly lights you up in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s electrifying and terrifying.
His eyes move from your own to the way your lips wrap around the straw of your drink. He adjusts how he sits, leaning slightly closer to you, making heat rush to your core as his hands frame you between the bar and the chair. You look up at him with doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch in his pants.
“Tell me what you want baby,” he says as if he’s asking you a deep dark secret.
You swallow thickly and hesitate on your words. He can sense your nerves, and it turns him on even more seeing how nervous you get when it actually comes down to it. The flirty, charming and funny girl is suddenly all small and nervous when the big bad wolf gets too close.
His smirk grows. His ringed fingers come down to where your knees are touching, tapping softly against the surface of your jeans. “Maybe you just want to keep this at the shop, and that’s okay,” he assures you.
Your heart is beating so hard you swear he could probably hear it. His hand dances up a little higher, just slightly above your knee. You stare at the way his fingers trace along your leg, caught in a trance.
“Maybe,” his gravelly voice makes your eyes meet his own again. “Maybe you want to be a little tease and never hear from me again,” he shrugs.
You shake your head softly, making his smile grow even larger. His hand moves up more, giving you goosebumps under your clothes. Your thighs squeeze together and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. The glint in his eyes is dark.
“Maybe you want me to pull you into the bathroom, rip off these tight little jeans, and fuck you against the wall,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear over the music and chatter of the bar.
You’re about to protest, to tell him that’s not what you want at all, but he already knows and stops you before you start.
“Or maybe you want me to take you home and fuck you properly, like a good girl should be, like you know I can, like you’ve thought about before,” he smirks.
Your small whimper confirms it all for him, but he still has to say - “Or maybe you just want me to fuck off, what do I know?” he grins, leaning back away from you and removing his hand from your leg.
You’re speechless, your mind rattling with desire and nerves. You want it so badly. You want him so badly.
“What about Jo?” You ask, your voice smaller than usual.
He shrugs. “I think she and her shithead boyfriend will be entertained all night.”
You look down at your hands, then place them on his knees, tapping just like he did to you, but in a more tentative motion. You want your nerves to go away, but it’s all so much.
“You,” you start, swallowing to ease your suddenly dry throat. “Um, Sometimes I get kind of, um,” you stutter, not sure how to explain that you fall into subspace, and it makes for one night stands extremely difficult for you. You don’t know how to check to see if he is able to hold that space for you, despite having the gut feeling that he can, and will.
He looks at you patiently, kindly, watching as you struggle to get the words out. He doesn’t know the full story, but he can tell you’ve been hurt before. As much as he wouldn’t like to admit it, he also knows you both connect in a deep way that he doesn’t even understand yet. In all honesty, he would’ve already fucked you to just get it out of the way, but he knows it’ll be more than that. You walking into the bar is kismet, he was ready to play a long game.
His hand comes to the side of your face, drawing your attention back to his eyes. “You get kind of small baby?” He asks, no judgment in his voice.
Your eyes start to feel watery as you nod in response. “I already know sweetheart,” he smiles at you.
“You do?” you whisper, your voice not having the strength to ask.
His smile grows, and that alone eases so much of your anxiety. “I could tell since the first time we touched, and by how you talk to me, how nervous you suddenly get, how your voice sometimes changes,” he explains.
Your cheeks heat up. Are you really that obvious?
“Is that bad?” You ask, desperately wanting his reassurance and praise.
He shakes his head immediately. “No, baby. Not at all. I’ll take care of you, promise,” he assures you.
You find yourself slowly leaning in toward him, wanting so badly to connect your lips to his. But he diverts, using his hand on your cheek to tilt your head down and kiss your forehead instead. You close your eyes and sigh, kicking your feet slightly in the chair.
“Not yet,” he whispers in your ear. He stands up, taking your hand in his. He throws some cash on the bar and pulls you to stand up. “Let’s go,” he smiles down at you, then wraps his arm around your waist and guides you out of the bar.
Your mind is already feeling a little fuzzy being so close to him. You feel like you’re floating, like this is all just some insane dream you’re in, not like it’s actually happening.
The brisk air outside brings you back a little, and you search for Jo’s car in the parking lot, suddenly remembering why you were here in the first place. “Wait,” you say, stopping to look for her. “I don’t see Jo’s car,” you mutter.
Eddie shrugs, “Told you.”
You sigh and pull out your phone, seeing three missed calls from her and a bunch of texts about “leaving to work things out,” “whoever you were talking to was hot” “sent you money on venmo for an uber” and “call me when you get home”. You roll your eyes.
“C’mon,” Eddie encourages you, seeing your exasperation with the friend, and remembering why you say you might like to spend time by yourself in the first place.
He guides you to a black truck and opens the door for you while guiding you in by your hips. You swear every touch flusters you more and more. You never want his hands off of you.
The drive to Eddie’s feels quick. His hand doesn’t leave your thigh, and your gaze continually drifts from his profile to the road. He drives safer than you’d expect, and doesn’t waste time on small talk.
His grip on the steering wheel is tight, and the one on your leg isn’t any more gentle. He breaks the silence that had started once you two got in the truck.
“If you want to stop at any time, even right now, just say ‘red’, okay?” he says. The confirmation that this is really happening has you nearly shaking in the seat.
“O-okay,” you stutter. Get a grip, you think to yourself.
Eddie squeezes your thigh. “You’re so fuckin’ cute when you’re nervous,” he chuckles.
You look out the window next to you, avoiding the heat you feel from him. “I’m not nervous,” you mutter - a bold faced lie.
“Okay sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, patting your thigh before moving his hand just slightly farther up your leg. You gulp, and resist moving your own hand to his, trying to keep your composure.
He moves it up just a little bit farther as he pulls up to a red light. His full attention turns to you as you stare at the dark, empty street. You breathe heavily and he raises an eyebrow at your lack of resistance.
“Oh, gonna act tough now?” he challenges. You turn to face him and shake your head no, putting your hand on top of his and squeezing it.
“That’s right, because you don’t need to be all tough around me, right baby?” he coos. The way he talks to you goes straight to your core, making your brain fuzzy. It’s too easy for him.
You see the light turn green and point to it. “Lights green,” you say, trying to get his attention off of you so you can try to regain focus.
“Answer me,” he replies. “Tell me you know you can let go and let me take care of you,” he urges you, not moving an inch despite the green light in front of the car.
“I- I know,” you respond, but it’s not good enough.
“C’mon baby you know better. What do you know?”
You shut your eyes and try again, trying to let the words you say be true, and it pulls at your heart. “I k-know you’ll take care of me,” you whisper.
“Good girl,” he smiles, then goes past the green light.
It’s only a few more blocks before he’s pulling into a driveway of a one-story home. It’s modest, but still nice, and private with some land. You can’t tell much in the dark, but it looks like he has a lot of space to himself.
Eddie unbuckles your seatbelt for you and jumps out of the driver's seat, coming to open your door before you can even try.
He holds his hand out for you and walks you to the door, hand in hand. When inside you’re slightly surprised by how put together the whole place is. Sure, there are a few jackets here and there, some toys for his kid, and maybe a cup or two, but other than that it’s nice. There are posters and tour photos everywhere, as well as a nice record player and really nice looking stereo. There’s a tv that looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while and, from what you can see, the kitchen looks retro and cool as well.
Eddie lets you observe, watching you get comfortable as he throws his keys on the counter.
“This is nice,” you smile.
He shrugs. “It’s alright,” he replies, then turns toward you. He looks down at you in a way that makes your heart thump out of your chest, and the heat between your legs only increases.
He brings his hand to your face, letting his thumb trace over your lips. “So pretty,” he mutters, and it makes you scrunch up your face, trying to turn away from the compliment. But his hold on your face grows firm instantly.
“Uh uh,” he tuts. “When I compliment you, don’t run, you say ‘ thank you ‘, understand?” He instructs you, his tone serious but calm. You haven’t given up control like this in a long while, and as hard as it feels to let go, you try to allow yourself to listen to his instructions. This is what you’ve been wanting.
You nod and he smiles softly at you.
“Let’s try again,” he says. “Because I really do think you’re so beautiful, have ever since I first saw you.”
It takes everything in you not to squirm and run under his gaze. But you lock yourself into place, let yourself give in to his hold. “Thank you,” you say, thinking you were strong, though it comes out barely above a whisper.
“Open,” he instructs, and you do so immediately, opening your mouth as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You wrap your lips around the digit and your eyes flutter closed, moaning as you feel yourself slip deeper and deeper.
He gives your cheek a light tap, making your eyes open as you continue to lick around his thumb. “Eyes on me sweetheart,” he mutters, his own eyes getting that dark intensity as he watches you.
“Slaps okay baby?” He asks.
You nod again, mumbling a “mmhmmm” around his thumb. He holds your face and raises his eyebrows, silently asking you to answer again.
You do so as best as you can with his thumb still in your mouth, “Yes sir.”
He smirks, and gives your cheek a slightly harder slap, one that stings a little, and it makes you smile wide. You keep his thumb between your teeth as you smile and look up at him, the adrenaline running all through your senses.
“Thank you,” you say shyly.
He leans down to kiss your now red cheek, and it makes you stiffen slightly, feeling his lips so close to your own. He hovers over your cheek, giving small wet kisses in a path from your cheek to the corner of your mouth.
He stalls there for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in as he removes his thumb from your mouth.
Your eyelids are heavy, both seeing him and sensing him at the same time.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Your stomach twists at the idea, your core pounding in anticipation between your legs. He didn’t have to ask at this point, but the fact that he did made you feel incredibly safe.
“Please,” you reply, though before the word is fully out of your mouth his lips are on yours.
It’s a passionate kiss, his soft full lips connecting with your own, first just as two lips meeting, then as two melting together. He leads easily, his hands gripping your face as yours find his arms. It’s intense but not too rough as he backs you up against the wall, locking you in place with his lips and his body pressing up against you.
The gasp that leaves your throat is one of pleasure, and it makes Eddie groan lowly in response. He breaks the kiss to slot his leg between yours, giving you the slightest bit of friction to your core as his forehead rests on your own.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so fucking long,” he admits.
You give his lips a quick peck in response. “I’ve thought about it lots,” you reply, and he quickly reconnects his lips with your own.
This time, though, his leg is pushing up into your center and you start grinding against it. Your kisses become more broken as the friction starts to heat you up, your breathing becoming ragged.
Then his ringed hand comes to your throat. He chuckles at your whine, at your involuntary grinding on his leg. “Aw baby, so needy,” he says, taunting eyes starting into your own.
You struggle to breathe, getting slightly lightheaded from the choking and pleasure mixed into one.
His demeanor grows more and more dominant as he watches you fall apart beneath him. You want to reach out and touch him more than anything, but your fumbling hands can barely reach the clasp on his pants before his hands stop you.
Both hands immediately grab your own and pin them above your head to the wall, causing you to gasp. You resist slightly, and it makes him add even more pressure to your wrists.
He’s looking down at you with dark eyes, his leg still pressed against your core, now almost too intensely as he holds you in place.
“Did I say you could touch?” He asks.
His voice both scares you and ignites you. You’re putty in his hands.
“No d-” you stop yourself, not sure if that’s an honorific he wants to use, though you so desperately want to say it. Immediately one of his hands lands a sharp crack across your face, causing you to yelp, leaving your cheek stinging.
Your mouth hangs open as you look up at him with slightly wet eyes. His jaw is clenched.
“Don’t hold back,” he says. “Say it.”
You hesitate, knowing that calling him the ‘d’ word will absolutely drop you into the most vulnerable space.
But you want it so, so badly.
His free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together. “It’s either that, or ‘Sir’,” he tells you, giving you the option.
You whine and whimper, but he doesn’t let up, only presses your wrists together harder.
You muster all the courage you have, knowing it’s the entire reason you’ve wanted him in the first place. You’ve been wanting this feeling again for so long.
“Daddy,” you breathe.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his hips into yours, and you can feel just how fucking hard he is through his pants. His hands release you only to find their way to your ass, squeezing hard as he motions for you to jump.
You do slightly and he catches you, holding you on his hips as he connects his lips again with yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. You feel like you’re floating, the heat between you two palpable.
He breaks the kiss to walk toward what you can only assume to be the bedroom. As he does, you rest your head on his shoulder, giving little kisses to his neck as he squeezes your ass.
He drops you on the bed, making you giggle as you land on your back.
“Stay here,” he says to you in the dark. You do as you’re told as he walks away, apparently moving to flicker on a small bedside light, just bright enough to create a light warm hue in the room.
As he walks back over to you, he takes his shirt off and your heart immediately beats harder. Your eyes widen as you take in his tattooed frame. His light skin is littered with ink, as well as toned with some muscles that make you clench around nothing. You stare up at him as he goes to remove his rings on his nightstand.
“No no,” you stop him. “Leave them on,” you request. He raises an eyebrow at your tone.
You recover quickly. “Please - please leave them on,” you correct yourself.
He smiles at you, and obliges, putting his rings back on his fingers and coming back to crawl over you on the bed.
“So sweet, but so naughty,” he says, placing kisses on the side of your neck. His hands roam your sides as your body contorts to his own, trying to feel all of him on top of you. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts up as you raise your arms, revealing the little white bralette you had thrown on in your hasty leave of home.
He immediately goes to your chest, pushing your tits together and kissing them, sucking on the skin hard enough to make you whine.
“Oh fuck fuck,” you gasp, feeling him leave a hickey on your breast. You want to run your hands through his hair, your fingers are practically twitching, but you know better. He licks the sore spot as he undoes the heart clasp at the front of the bralette, exposing your chest fully to him.
“God baby you’re so fucking perfect,” he praises you, groping your tits in his big hands. The sensation of him massaging your tits alone has you arching your back to be closer to him, nevermind being able to feel the bulge of his dick on your waist as he straddles you.
“Thanky ou Daddy,” you whine out, trying to adhere to the small rule he gave you earlier.
At your response he comes back to meet his lips with yours, one of his hands getting lost in your hair, gripping it just a little harshly. “Such a good girl,” he says, and you whine.
He releases you and starts kissing down your neck, exposed chest, tummy, and to the top of your jeans. He unbuttons them agonizingly slowly. You watch with glossy eyes as his strong hands undo your jeans and roll them down your legs, wasting no time and taking your panties with them, leaving you bare in front of him.
He looks at you hungrily, his hands gripping your fleshy thighs and spreading them apart. It all feels so intense, feeling so bare in front of him, but all you want is for him to touch you.
You whine as he stares at you, wiggling at the lack of touch.
“I know baby, I know,” he says softly, his left hand slowly tracing down your thigh and dancing dangerously close to your dripping core.
“I just have to admire your pretty little pussy, so wet for me already,” he says. You turn your head in embarrassment, your eyes immediately rolling back as his finger dances over your clit.
You’ve been dreaming about this for weeks now, wanting Eddie’s touch to consume you and fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Despite his demeanor, he’s so gentle, so delicate, touching you as if you could break underneath him as he circles your clit.
He studies you, watches your breathing and how it changes, seeing which spot and tempo seems to work best. You can’t help the little whimpers that escape your lips as he rubs your wet pussy with perfection.
“Fe-feels so good Daddy,” you moan, your hips starting to grind against his patient hand.
“Doing so well for me baby,” he admires you. “Gonna let me taste you sweetheart? Gonna let Daddy taste this pretty cunt?”
You groan at his foul words, the questions themself nearly pushing you to an early edge. “Yes please, please please,” you beg, though it’s unnecessary as Eddie attaches his mouth to your clit, his finger moving toward your entrance.
He moans the second he tastes you, and you do the same, immediately feeling a rush of pleasure consume you.
To no surprise, He moves his tongue expertly. He starts with slow, deliberate circles, applying just enough pressure to ignite all the senses and nerves around your cunt. You swear you don’t even know how to pleasure yourself this well, and it’s a feeling you never want to stop.
“Oh my - fuck yes,” you moan, and he hums in response. He’s just as elated to have you like this for him, coming undone in his bed, naked and vulnerable and oh so sweet.
He picks up his pace and starts to press his finger into your core, curling it just right to rub that spot inside of you as he licks and sucks your clit.
Your legs start to shake. “D-daddy yes yes please,” you whine, not even sure what you’re asking for. Your body feels ignited and absolutely euphoric as he continues relentlessly, moaning into your cunt at the sound of you coming undone.
“I feel, it feels,” you stutter, trying to verbalize the ball of heat building in your lower belly, feeling the nerves of your spine begin to light up.
He only comes off of you briefly to say, “Ask me.” You know even through your hazy brain what he means.
It’s almost too late. “Pl-please please Daddy can I c-cum,” you gasp.
“Cum baby,” he grunts into your cunt, making the ball of heat explode. Your vision goes white as your back arches and toes curl, your legs squeezing around his head as he refuses to let up, making sure your orgasm lasts. You swear you’ve never felt anything like it, and can barely comprehend how long your high lasts, until you feel Eddie crawling up your shaky body.
He brings his wet lips to yours making you taste yourself as your tongues collide. His hands don’t waste time undoing his pants and pulling down his boxers, letting his dick spring free and hit his stomach.
“Wanna taste you,” you whimper, opening your lidded eyes to see him already starting to grind against you, his dick thick and long.
“Fuck baby, I just need to be inside you,” he grunts.
You can’t help the blissed out smile that takes over your face, knowing that he wants this just as badly as you do.
“You taste me next time, okay sweetheart?” He reassures you. Next time? Next time. All you can think about is that he wants you again, already.
The thought consumes you as you feel his pink tip push against your entrance. Despite being extremely lubricated from him pleasuring you, you know it’s going to stretch you.
He starts slow, and you can tell he’s holding back just for you. You gasp as he breeches your entrance, stretching you out.
“Shh. shh baby I know,” he coos, bringing his finger to your mouth for you to suck on while he invades you.
Your legs shake slightly as he continues forward, each inch lighting you up inside.
You whine and whimper around him as he mutters, “Fuck, such a tight little cunt, so fucking perfect for me - just for me isn’t it?”
You nod and whine as he bottoms out inside of you, nearly collapsing on top of you as you both groan at the feeling. You feel incredibly full, so warm with his body on top of yours, so safe being surrounded by him.
He starts slowly moving his hips, and the sounds you make are music to his ears.
“Feels sso so good,” you moan, and he brings a hand to your throat, squeezing as he leans up and begins to pound relentlessly into you.
“That’s right, take it baby,” he grunts, his hand squeezing your throat as your cunt squeezes around him.
He takes your spread legs and puts them on his shoulders, leaning over you slightly to give him deeper access. You moan loudly, whining at how deep he goes inside of you, you can feel him in your fucking stomach.
But the way he changes his thrusts to rub inside that spot inside of you makes your vision see stars, and he can tell.
“Oh that’s the spot huh baby? Holy fucking - fuck,” he can barely keep it together himself as he watches your tits bounce, your face contort with pleasure.
This orgasm is coming on faster, your hands moving to grip his arms, nails digging into him as you can barely take the pleasure.
“FUck fuck,” you groan, head thrown back.
“Yeah give it to me, cum on my fucking cock,” he grunts, giving your face a slap and holding you down by your throat as he hits that spot inside of you without mercy.
You cum with what feels like a wave of pleasure that takes over your whole body. You feel it everywhere, and Eddie can’t hold himself together at the sight.
“Oh you’re so fucking - look at you -” He stutters, almost stopping his thrusts to prevent himself from cumming, but your eyes shoot open.
You look up at him with wet eyes and swollen lips. “Please, please Daddy please cum in me” you beg, watching as he tries not to fall apart above you.
But that does it for him, he can’t control it. “Fuck baby, go-gonna fucking cum in you, fill you up,” he grunts, his thrusts stuttering as he falls apart.
You watch in awe as his eyes close and his flushed face contorts with pleasure, feeling his warm seed coat your insides.
He falls on top of you, riding out his own high as your legs fall open, allowing him to press his chest against your own. His forehead meets yours as he brings his lips to meet your own swollen ones in a breathy kiss.
Your eyes open wide as you separate, looking at him like he put the stars in the fucking sky, and you know you’re in trouble with how much you liked that - like him.
“Thank you,” you whisper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as he kisses your forehead.
“No, thank you sweetheart,” he replies, bringing his nose to brush against your own.
You stay close like that for a while, just breathing and taking each other in. You didn’t want him to pull out, didn’t want to lose the feeling of him inside of you. But after a little while he did, falling to your side and bringing you to cuddle on his chest.
His hand comes to rub your head, brushing your hair and kissing your cheeks and forehead with a hum. You let yourself enjoy his sweaty scent, the hormone filled room making it feel like you were lost in a cloud.
“You okay?” He mumbles, using his hand to turn your head up to face him.
You nod. But you get worried immediately at overstaying. You don’t want to impose.
“I should - uh I should pee,” you say, moving to get up.
He nods, worried that you’re regretting everything that just happened. He holds his hand out to help you stand up on shaky legs, and much to your surprise, he walks with you to the bathroom, his arms on your waist.
“I can walk,” you giggle, his hands guiding you to the toilet.
“Mmm,” he hums, “I’m really not so sure about that baby bear.”
You giggle as you sit on the toilet, and he stands at the door, but faces the other way. You go pee and wash your hands with Eddie standing guard. The second you stand in front of him he sweeps under your legs and carries you bridal style back to the bedroom, making you a giggly little mess in his arms.
He sets you gently on the bed, and sits next to the bedside, rubbing your legs as he looks at you softly.
“Do you want to take a bath or just shower in the morning?” He asks. Your heart jumps to your throat - he wants you to stay.
“You- uh, you don’t have to it’s okay,” you stumble over your words, not wanting to impose.
“I want to,” he interrupts you, immediately silencing your thoughts. “Get comfy, let me go get some water and snacks. Text your friend that you’re home safe,” he says with a wink.
You smile at his words, feeling warm and taken care of as you cuddle up under his covers. You reach for your phone on the floor next to your discarded floors and text Jo that you’re safe.
The exhaustion of the night starts to wash over you, your eyes starting to feel heavy as your head rests easily in Eddie’s bed.
He comes back into the room wearing a pair of gray sweats hanging lowly on his hips, carrying two water bottles, a banana, and some popcorn. He smiles at the sight of you in his bed, warm and small and safe.
He sets the snacks on the nightstand and kisses your forehead, making your eyes flutter open.
“So cute,” he smiles. “Want a shirt, baby?”
You nod and he grabs one of his big band tees as you sit up. “Arms up,” he instructs, and you do as you’re told, letting him pull the shirt over your naked frame. When your face pops out of the top, he holds your cheeks lightly, bringing your lips to his for a kiss.
He pulls away slowly, and it scares you how full your heart feels.
“Are you gonna let me be here for you sweetheart?” He asks, moving his hands to hold your own.
You smile shyly. “I think I'd like that,” you reply.
“Not just tonight,” he corrects himself.
Your eyes start to water. He’s just too sweet, too perfect, it doesn’t feel real.
“You mean it?” you ask/
“As long as you let me be here for you, I will,” he confirms.
And you smile because maybe, just maybe, this is right.
prompt: eddie and steve find out you've been lying to them. they're less than impressed with you.
contains: MINORS DNI 18+ ABSOLUTELY DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NOT 18+!!!!! poly relationship (throuple), steve x eddie x reader, dom!eddie, dom!steve, sub!reader, language, mentions of dom/sub themes, spanking, degrading, mean dom!steddie, gagging, oral fem recieving, double penetration, aftercare
Steve walked through the front door of the small home, shoulders slumped and rounded with defeat of the day. He hated midterm week, hated the week after it even more. When the college kids scrambled in to cram as much studying as they could, spilling over books and notes, scouring for the supplied they needed to pass the classes so they could enjoy their spring break. It made Steve crazy.
Waldenbooks was buzzing, sales had been great so his boss would be happy, but his employees- most college students themselves- had requested off for spring break, leaving Steve short staffed and running the store.
He could hear your giggle from the hallway, floating towards him like a soothing melody, eyes closing at the sound. You'd chose to stay home for spring break, to stay with he and Eddie. Your junior year (the second time around) was spent having lazy days in bed with the boys, savoring the moments with them before they went to work, sweet kisses and quiet moans spilled between crumpled bed sheets.
You'd sucked Steve off that morning in the bathroom while he brushed his teeth. He didn't even ask you to. You just followed him in, dropping to your knees on the fluffy bath mat with a sleepy smile. "Missed you, Stevie," You hummed, nuzzling into the soft skin of his tummy, warm with sleep, soft lips trailing kisses down to his boxers.
You didn't ask, and Eddie would have corrected you. Yanked you back by your hair, bending you over the sink to spank you until you were crying, promising you learned your lesson. But Steve couldn't bring himself to do it, not when you were so sweet, and you were making him feel so good.
Steve rounded the corner into the living room, watching you reach on your tip toes to dust the top of the shelf. You were a good girl like that, keeping the house tidy for them. They'd given you chores, of course, tasks for you to complete for rewards or punishment if you didn't, but they didn't have to. You'd do it for them regardless,
Eddie's boom box sat on the table, cranked to a pop radio station that hummed softly, filling the space with the bubbly music you liked. You wiggled your hips to the beat, unaware of Steve's presence behind you until you turned, a squeal of surprise leaving your lips.
"Steve!" You gasped, holding the duster to your chest. "You scared me!" You shrilled, eyes bulging at him.
Steve grinned. "Sorry, angel, didn't mean to scare ya." He reached for the buttons of his top, popping the buttons free down his chest.
You blushed gently, biting your bottom lip while you swayed, eyeing him hungrily. Steve bit back a grin. Of course you were pent up, here all alone after this morning, poor girl.
Turning the dial to the radio down, you set the duster down, sauntering over to Steve. "D'ya have a good day?" You chirped, finishing off the last few buttons.
Steve watched your manicured fingers undo the last of the buttons, pulling the tail of the shirt out of his work slacks slowly. "Pretty good." Steve hummed. "Can't wait for this week to be over and my workers come back. Maybe I can actually have a day off next week."
You sighed sympathetically, pouting up at him. "I'm sorry, Stevie." Sliding your hands down to his belt, innocent enough, you undoing his belt like that, yet Steve throbbed behind his zipper.
"Maybe I can help you relax?" You suggested, tilting your head to the side. "Ed's supposed to be home in a few so we can," You let your hands trail, featherlight fingertips trialing to brush over his bulge. "Play, a little later." You grinned wickedly, a devious little smile that had Steve's chest constricting.
"Fuck," Steve groaned, watching you play him lightly over his pants. "You're not supposed to be-fuck- touching us without permission, are you?" He furrowed his brows sternly down at you, faltering a little when you squeezed him, just lightly enough to have him groaning.
"But I'm just trying to make you feel better, Stevie." You pouted, rolling your palm over the rough cotton of his dark pants. "Just trying to be good for you. Make you feel good."
Steve's breathing stuttered, willing himself to pull your hand back despite his sense screaming at him. "Thank you, baby, that did feel good, but," Steve gave your hand a tight squeeze when you huffed, brows lifting in warning. "Let's wait for Ed. You know he'll be sad if we start without him."
Your bottom lip juts out a little further, but you nod, stepping back from Steve so he could walk towards the bedroom. "Did you get everything done?" Steve asked, looking over his shoulder, hard sole loafers clacking against the hardwood down the hall.
You drooled, eyes trained on the shiny shoes. You remembered when Steve first got them, only a few weeks ago. You'd been bratty that day, huffy and irritated while shopping. Steve had hauled you out of the shoe store, spanking you with the loafer in the car. It had stung something awful, and the following spanking with Eddie's paddle had been miserable, yet you ached at the thought, panties embarrassingly wet at the memory.
"Mmhmm," You hummed, swallowing the drool that pooled in your mouth at the thought. "I have our laundry washing right now. Just have to finish up the towels. The dryer is taking a while to dry again."
Steve sighed in response. "Tell Eddie when he gets home. He'll have to look at it again." As if on cue, the front door closed. You perked up, grinning at the sound of the other man, your other lover. Steve smirked. "Speak of the fuckin' devil."
Eddie's heavy boots carried down the hallway and you grinned, peeking around to greet him. "Hi, baby," Eddie cooed.
You smiled, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a sweet kiss. He was still in his little work badge. He found it demeaning, embarrassing, but you thought he looked positively delicious in it. Eddie worked down at a local music shop, the specialist in all things guitar related. With the grunge, punk rock wave that was creeping through the music world, everyone wanted an electric guitar. Lucky for Eddie. He sold, tuned, and even repaired and gave lessons for extra cash. The only downside was the badge, rather a plaque that was bigger than an index card, that all employees had to wear on their chest. A cheesy cartoon music note with the stores name on it that Eddie cringed at.
"Hi," You chirped, pulling back, eyes shining at him. "Missed you."
Eddie smirked, pecking your pouting lips. "Missed you." He sighed, walking towards the bedroom with you hanging off his waist. "Have a good day?"
You nodded, looking over at Steve, shirtless in his boxers, rummaging through his drawers for more comfortable clothes. "Did you?" You asked, dazed, zoned in at the sight of Steve's hairy chest.
Eddie snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty good." He reached beneath his shirt to take off the badge attached. "You got something in the mail, baby. Laid it by the stove. Something from school."
You froze, eyes widening slightly. It was your midterm grades, shit. They weren't supposed to send those until after Spring Break, those fuckers. Steve's brow raised, looking up at you skeptically. "What is it?"
"I don't know!" You squeaked, quick and defensive. You cringed slightly at the boys' furrowed brows. "I'll go check. Be right back." You smiled sweetly towards them, scampering towards the kitchen.
Eddie looked at Steve, brow raised wordlessly, skeptically towards each other.
You cursed under your breath, sorting through the bills, magazines, ads, until you saw it. Your name printed across it with the University's crest in the corner. White knuckled grip on the envelope, you folded it up tight, balling it in your fist. You knew the boys would check the trash, so you opted to get to the guest bathroom down the hall, shove it in the box of tampons until you could dispose of it when they're not home.
You turned down the hall, hand hidden behind your back. You stepped towards the opposite hall, barely making it past the doorframe. "What was it, baby?" Steve asked, arms crossed over his broad chest.
You cringed, stopping in the hall. You peeked around the corned, body hidden by the wall. Steve looked at you expectantly. "Nothing!" You chirped. "It was just something about my financial aid."
Steve lifted a brow. "Where are you going?" He asked. Eddie joined him, looking at you over his shoulder, tugging a t-shirt over his head.
You felt your heart thump hard in your chest. "I have to pee." You said simply.
Eddie raised a brow suspiciously. Steve scoffed lightly, eyeing you skeptically. "So come in here?" He raised a brow, that obvious tone that made your cheeks burn.
Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. "Yeah, baby," He said smoothly, eerily calm. "Come in here."
You stuttered, eyes flashing from the bathroom back to the boys. You halfway contemplated making a run for the bathroom, but you knew that would only make your punishment worse.
Feet dragging towards the boys, you kept your hands behind your back, fist balled with the folded letter, cheeks red under their watchful gaze. "Excuse me." You muttered, politely, trying to push back the two figures crowding the door. They didn't budge. "Excuse me." You huffed, gritted teeth and annoyed.
"Look at me." Eddie barked, commanding and mean.
You blistered under his gaze, slowly lifting your eyes up to him. "Eddie, stop being mean." You whined, foot stomping on the ground. "I have to pee, let me through-"
"What are you hiding?" Eddie asked, nodding towards you.
Your spine straightened, palms sweating around the folded paper. "Nothing." You said quickly.
Steve rolled his eyes with an unimpressed snort. "Right." He scoffed sarcastically. Your cheeks burned, eyes narrowing in retaliation. "Show me what you've got in your hand."
"I don't have anything in my hand, Steve." You snapped. "Let me pee or I'm going to the other bathroom."
Eddie reached out for you, eyes widening in shock when you pivoted, jumping back out of his grasp. You met his eyes, yours rounded slightly, while Steve's bounced between the two of you, a little apprehensive at what Eddie might do. He was always the stricter one, the meaner one. You didn't disobey him often, sure that he'd make you sorry for it if you did.
Eddie gawked, tongue rolling down the side of his cheek. He looked over at Steve, nodding slightly towards you. You froze just before both men seized for you. "No!" You screeched, turning to run down the hall, but they caught you easily, each by the arm, holding you firmly.
Your first stayed clenched against the letter, wriggling and fighting in their grasp. "Stop it! Let me go!" You shrilled, pulling each of your arms.
"What's she got, Stevie?" Eddie asked, strong hands pinning your arm down, pivoting you body so your arm was trapped against him. His free hand went to steady your flailing limb, locking on your elbow. Normally, you'd love being manhandled by them, especially with the way the veins in their arms were throbbing prominent. It was enough to make your mouth water, even if you were about to be facing a harsh punishment.
You wiggled and fought, white knuckled fist gripping the letter. Steve wrenched your hand open, peeling your fingers open until he could fish the wadded letter out. He cried out triumphantly, holding it above his head, away from your hands. Eddie pulled you in tight to his chest, arms pinning your own down while you writhed against him, desperate to get free.
"What is it?" Eddie snapped, grip tightening with ever squirm and wiggle you gave.
Steve ripped the envelop open easily, eyes scanning over the crinkled paper. "No!" You cried out, lip wobbling already. "That's mine! Not yours! Give it back, Steve, it's not funny!" You knew it sounded juvenile, but you didn't care. You were desperate to get it back before he saw it. Before he saw the D you had in your Literature class.
The boys were strict with you and your school work, adamant that you do all your work so you were on track to graduate. You'd been mostly good, but the literature class was so draining. So much reading and analyzing, and sure, you'd missed a few assignments, but they didn't need to know that.
Steve's eyes flashed over to you. You stilled in Eddie's arms, cowering slightly under his glare. "What is it?" Eddie asked, looking from you back to Steve.
Steve's lips pressed together. "You want to tell him, or should I?"
You whimpered in response, deciding to try and wiggle free since Eddie's grip had loosened. He tightened his hold back on you, looking over at the letter that Steve held out. You could feel him tense, jaw tightening.
Eddie's hands were tight on your forearm, pulling you so he could see your face. More importantly so you should see him, stern and upset, dark eyes pooling with disappointment. "You have a D?" He asked. You shrunk slightly.
"How did you even get a D?" Steve asked, hands on his hips, glaring back at you. "We check your calendar every night and you-" Steve paused, face dropping. "Did you purposely not write down your assignments?" You looked down, silently.
Steve stomped over, hands grabbing your chin firmly, lifting it to meet his angry amber eyes. "I asked you a question."
"Yes." You sniffled, bottom lip already wobbling. "I just... I didn't want to do it all right then. I have so much other stuff to do and-and it was just one-"
"Stop." Steve snapped, shaking his head at you. "Don't you dare lie to me. I'm not stupid, baby, I know this was more than one assignment."
Eddie's eyes flashed down in disappointment at you, appalled by your boldness. Your face dropped, looking down at your feet. "'M sorry, Stevie." You whispered.
Eddie hummed, exhaling slowly while he looked over at Steve. "That's extremely disappointing." He shook his head slowly, taunting.
"I'm sorry." You croaked, teary eyed looking up at him, your sweetest, subbiest eyes, desperate to have him soften towards you.
"No," Eddie shook his head, free hand moving to pinch your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger. "But you will be." You whimpered, the small pat against your cheek a foreshadowing, taunting you with what's to come.
"What happens when you break our rules?" Eddie asked, eyes dark and peering into yours.
Your lips quivered. "Get punished." You muttered, cheeks blooming with heat.
Steve's hand knotted through the back of your hair, tugging your head back sharply. "Speak up." He snapped.
You whined at the pain. "I get punished, sirs." You huffed, you couldn't help the pout on your lips, not when they were being so mean with you.
Eddie looked at Steve, head bobbing just barely so he'd release his grip. Eddie loosened his grasp he had around you, catching your chin before you could fully relax at the released pressure.
"I want you kneeling in front of the bed waiting for us. You know how we want you." Eddie commanded.
You nodded obediently, his grip releasing your chin. You stepped towards the hall. "Nuh-uh." Steve snapped, eyes narrowing down at you. "Crawl. You know better."
You flushed at his chastisement, slowly sinking to your knees. The wood was hard against your joints, but you knew better than to complain; knew you'd be complaining about much more in a while.
Hands and knees dragging slow against the wood, you yelped at Eddie's palm cracking hard against your ass when you passed him. You desperately wanted to rub the sting, but you knew he'd tie you up if you did. On second thought, he'd probably do that anyways.
You shuddered, slowly shedding your clothes, tossing them in the dirty clothes hamper. The shushed tones of the boys outside made you shiver with anticipation, unsure and anxious at their plan for you. Sinking back down on the floor, facing the bed, spine long, palms resting on your thighs you waited. Straining to hear their conversation, but keeping your head straight.
Their synced footsteps started towards you, making your spine shoot with electricity. You started ahead, eyes trained on the bed post. You could see them, on either side of you in your peripheral.
"I'm giving you one chance." Steve said sternly, the letter still in his hand. "Tell me how many assignments you missed."
You opened your mouth to retaliate, Eddie stopping you. "You better be truthful." He warned. "It tells us on here, and if you lie to me, I'll go get my cane."
You shuddered at the threat. There was nothing you hated more on earth than the cane. They both knew that, only bringing it out when you really needed to be punished. The threat alone was enough to make you shape up.
You swallowed hard, lips pressing together, nails biting into the skin of your thighs. "T-Three, sir." You muttered.
Steve's brow lifted. "You sure about that?" He challenged, making your heart race.
You thought for a moment, brain wracking and filtering through the assignments. "I-I'm sure." You nodded. "Three. Two analysis and a quiz."
Eddie tsked, head shaking in disappointment. "Two analysis and a quiz." He mocked back at you. You pressed your lips together to keep the cry swelling in your chest down. "Can you believe that Stevie?"
"I can't." Steve pressed his lips together, shaking his head at you. "I would've thought our girl knew better."
"Me too." Eddie nodded, a heavy, exaggerated sigh leaving his lips. "And here I was thinking I was gonna get to be sweet to you tonight, baby." Eddie cooed, hand running down your hair. You tensed under his touch, senses heightened with every slow drag of his hand, anticipating the next move.
"You've been so good lately and now I see why," Eddie taunted, circling you like a shark to it's prey, all sharp teeth and an even sharper gaze. You kept your eyes forward, hands on your knees, clenching so you wouldn't shudder. "You've been trying to sweeten us up, haven't you?"
"She has." Steve nodded, arms crossing to stand in front of Eddie. "Been playing us all this time, hasn't she?"
Eddie hummed. "So you are smart then?" He tilted his head to the side. He could see you tense, eyes scanning you carefully. Though a punishment, you were still playing, he didn't want to overstep. The verbal humiliation and degrading was new, something the three of you were trying out.
"She's very smart." Steve cooed, and it made your heart swell. Hearing how genuine it sounded, how sweet and sincere.
Eddie's hand petted your hair gently. "I know she is." Eddie smirked, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. "You just make dumb decisions, don't you?"
His hand kept petting your locks, hand moving down to the ends of your hair. You gasped when Eddie tugged them without warning, pulling your head to tilt back and look at him. "I asked you a question, brat."
"Yes, Daddy." You whimpered. Eddie lifted a brow, eye narrowing at you in warning, it wasn't the answer he wanted and you knew that. You knew better than to try and sweeten him with his beloved title. "Yes, sir." You muttered, lip jutting.
Eddie released your hair, walking towards his closet. You so desperately wanted to look, but kept your eyes trained on the bed. You could feel Steve watching you, ensuring your eyes didn't wander while they picked out your punishment, decided your fate.
"Hmm, Stevie, what do you think?" Eddie asked, rummaging through the space. "How should we handle a liar?"
"I think you should get her gag out. The metal one." Steve grinned, malicious and scheming.
You wanted to whine, groan, cry, and beg them not to all at once. You loathed the metal gag; any gag at all, really. The metal one, a small metal circle on a leather strap, always hurt your mouth, stretching your mouth open uncomfortably and leaving you drooling. Not to mention the boys would purposely ask you questions so you'd wobble around your words, trying to form sentences with the uncomfortable intrusion, just so they could smack you and tell you to speak up.
"Hm, good idea, Stevie." Eddie grinned proudly back at him. His little apprentice, learning so quickly. "If you can't tell the truth, then you don't need to say anything at all, isn't that right?"
You bit back a pout, teething grinding while you stayed looking forward. Steve's backhand stunned you, startling you out of your trance. It wasn't hard so much as shocking, but it had you quivering between your knees.
"Did Eddie ask you a question?" Steve barked, hand gripping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks lightly while you faced him.
"Yes, sir." You took a deep breath, grounding yourself, keeping your cry in. You couldn't cry this early on, not giving them the satisfaction of that.
"Just go ahead and gag her, Eddie. She doesn't want to talk anyways." Steve scoffed, shaking his head down in disappointment at you. Your lip quivered. "She doesn't want to be a good girl."
"I do!" You whined, head snapping over towards Steve. He raised his brows, amused by your sudden whining, finally playing into your bratty side- the side he loved so much.
"I am being good! I'm not supposed to talk when you're punishing me." You huffed, reciting the rules they gave you months ago, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. The pout was enough, you were teetering into dangerous territory and you knew that.
"Oh?" Eddie's voice quipped, playful nearly. "You're a good girl?"
You deflated under his squinted stare, challenging. You knew he'd admonish you for the midterm, but that wasn't fair. You decided you'd let him know that. "'M being good right now." You mumbled, eyes flickering towards your knees.
"Yeah, when you want to be good." Eddie scoffed. "And you're supposed to be good all the time. Not just when you want."
You blushed deep with embarrassment, heat rising from your core to your cheeks. You were sure the boys could see your embarrassment flushing your body, exposed and vulnerable in front of them. You knew they loved it, you could tell by the bulge in Steve's sweatpants that he hadn't done anything to hide. Your mouth watered at the thought, wanting more than anything to have your cheeks hollowed around him again.
"Get the gag." Steve nodded down towards you. You huffed but didn't dare whine.
Your posture was slouched, pouting and sulking at the unfairness of it all. These two hypocrites, they didn't even go to college and they were so strict with you about your own school work. They didn't know how draining and time consuming it was.
"Straighten up." Eddie snapped at you. You blew a short breath out your nose, lifting your spine.
Eddie watched you down the slope of his nose, eyes hard and challenging. Your tummy flipped at the sight. He crouched down in front of you, free hand grabbing your chin, turning you to face him, examining your features.
"Color." Eddie demanded, voice still stern but eyes softening to read your expression.
"Green." Your voice had an edge to it, biting and a little mean, eyes avoiding his. Eddie gripped your chin, pulling you to meet his face. His brows lifted in question, serious. For all his meanness and strictness, he was even more strict about the check ins and safe words.
You met his eyes, huffing just a little. "Green, Eddie, 'm fine." You insisted.
"You sure?" Eddie asked in a low voice, grip loosening on your chin. "Let me know now before we start."
"I'm fine, promise." You gave him a small smile.
"And if you're not?"
"I'll say black for hard stop, blue to ease up, and squeeze three times if I need to stop." You droned the reciting back at him. You knew it made him feel better, knowing that you knew how to stop if you needed to. As confident as he was, he always worried about taking it to far with you, especially with punishments.
Eddie gave you a tiny grin, pecking your cheek sweetly. "Good girl." You beamed at the praise, the corners of your mouth flicking up just barely.
"See, knew you could be a good girl when you want." Eddie's salacious grin was back, a little taunting and mean. "Gotta teach you to be good all the time."
You saw him reach for his back pocket, eyes widening in anticipation. You knew the dreaded gag was in there, stretching your cheeks slightly in preparation for the discomfort that was coming.
"Open, wide." Eddie snapped.
You unhinged your jaw, mouth presented wide for him. He presented you with the gag, but not the metal one. To your surprise, he held the one with the red, rubber ball in the mouth piece instead. Your heart skipped in relief, letting the rubber settle between your teeth while Eddie fastened the strap around your head.
"Ah, Ed, are you going soft on us?" Steve teased with a snicker.
"Shut up, Harrington." Eddie snarled. "I figured for what she has coming, the rubber would be better. Don't want her breaking her pretty teeth out when she bites down."
Ice ran through your veins, a cold chill that made your shoulders shiver at the thought. You thought maybe they might go easy on you, you were wrong.
"Ah, good call." Steve nodded slowly. "Daddy's a lot nicer than me isn't he, baby?"
You gave a short nod, trying to swallow around the gag already, drool pooling inside your mouth.
"Aw, wasn't that sweet?" Steve sneered, taunting you. He crouched down beside you. "I wonder if you'll still think that in a little bit, baby." His hand was in your hair, pulling you up to stand, before dragging you harshly over the edge of the bed.
You landed with an oomph! bent over the bed, shuffling to spread your legs. Eddie bit back a remark of praise, eyes cutting to Steve. "Where do those hands go?" Steve barked.
You quickly extended them out in front of you, back elongating into a long stretch, ass presented high and legs spread. A vision of submission on their bed, Eddie and Steve wanted to bust right there at the sight.
"Harrington," Eddie called in a sing-song voice, playful and excited. Your eyes squeezed shut. "Do you want the honors first?"
"Oh no, Eddie, I insist." Steve responded just as playfully, he sat on the bed in front of you, taking your wrists into his hands, pinning them tight.
It was comfier than the ropes or cuffs, but more embarrassing this way. Now Steve would watch you, command your eyes on him while Eddie punished you, reveling in every sob and cry. His favorite show.
"What did you pick, Ed?" Steve asked, eyes lighting up at the reveal behind you. You didn't dare look back, eyes on Steve's face. "Oh, Daddy's really mad at you. You bad, bad girl."
You whined behind the gag, desperately. You knew you'd fucked up with the assignments, but you didn't think they'd be this mad with you.
"You know I don't like liars, Stevie." Eddie snipped. Then you felt it, the cool leather behind you, rubbing on the naked skin of your ass and thighs.
You wanted to groan, whine and stomp your feet in protest. He went with the paddle, of course he went with the paddle. It was worse than the belt, heavier and covered a bigger area, sure to leave you covered in welts and tender for days to come.
"Oh, I know you don't." Steve grinned, eyes cutting down at you. His grip on your wrist tightened, seeing your wide, rounded eyes shining up at him, gag lodged in your pretty mouth. His cock lurched at the sight.
"I don't like it when my little, good girl," Eddie brought the paddle down unexpectedly, no warning or warm up, just a resounding crack that echoed off the walls. You lurched forward, a muffled gasp behind the gag. "Acts so bad." Eddie swung his arms back, paddle connecting with the meat of your ass.
The fat of your hips jumped at the impact, a blossoming pink that slowly faded into red with each hit. You were bouncing, dancing from foot to foot with each slow hit.
"You lied to me and Steve about your school work," Eddie grunted, hitting where your cheeks met your thighs. You howled behind the gag, tears streaming down your cheeks.
Steve gripped your hands tightly, watching you closely. "Eyes on me." Steve snapped. You lifted your gaze, bleary through tears to meet his.
"You've ruined your grade," Eddie continued, two hard successions of the paddle, each covering each cheek in a stinging, sharp hit that had you crying.
"You disrespect me and Steve," You sobbed, snot and tears leaking down your cheeks, pooling to meet the drool that dripped out of your mouth and gathered at your chin.
"And worse of all," Eddie brought the paddle down hard, leaving you screeching, back arching and wrists tugging at Steve's hands to recoil in a deep child's pose, a submissive, defensive stance. Steve's grip tightened, and you were sure there would be bruises.
"You disrespected yourself." Eddie snapped, the paddle came down hard again. It hurt, stung, made you sob and ache, but somehow, Eddie's words- his disappointed tone, hurt and sad, hurt you worse.
You sobbed hard, shoulders shaking and posture slouching, caving into yourself. Steve felt your wrists fall limp in his hands, face buried into the mattress. He loosened his grip, looking up at Eddie carefully. Eddie rolled the paddle over in his hands, watching you carefully. Steve could tell he was contemplating finishing out, neither one of them expected you to break this early.
"I'm not going to have you hurt yourself like this." Eddie continued after a moment, bringing the paddle back down against your red cheeks, softer this time. You still jumped, sobbing into the duvet. "You do your school work and your assignments. You know you're supposed to."
"'M sowwy." You blubbered through the gag, drool spilling out with the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.
"Speak up." Eddie snapped, his hand cracking down on your hot flesh. "Get your head up."
You lifted your face out of the mattress, eyes meeting Steve's through your wet vision. "'M s-sorry." You tried again, the gag making it awkward and muffled.
Steve cooed down at you, wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "Aw, c'mon, Ed," He tutted down at you. "She's sorry, aren't you?"
You nodded fiercely, before resting your cheek back onto the mattress, looking over your shoulder back at Eddie. He stood, arms crossed over his chest with his paddle still in hand, staring down at you. You clenched around nothing. Fuck, he looked so good when he was angry, so mean and controlling; such a contrast to his normal light hearted, sweet personality.
Eddie hummed, hand lightly skating over your hot flesh, squeezing the fat of your reddened cheeks gently. "You gonna do your school work?" He asked. You nodded fiercely. "You gonna lie to me or Steve again?" Your head bobbed.
"Good." Eddie nodded. You felt his fingers move lower, swiping between your legs. You whined, wiggling back onto his fingers desperately for friction. Eddie smirked, looking up at Steve. "Good girl." He cooed.
"You are so good aren't you?" Steve mumbled to you. He let go of your hands, placing them on either side of your face sweetly, pulling you closer to him. His nose nearly touched yours, grinning at you, ruined and desperate between his hands. "So good when you want to be. So sweet, too."
Eddie hummed, pulling his fingers out of you and into his mouth, eyes closing and groaning loud, the tangy taste of your spend on his fingers. "Mmm, so good. Fuck." Eddie's eyes zoned in on your pussy, needy and wet.
It took every ounce of restraint he had not to dive into you, devour that beautiful pussy until you were screaming out for more. But he couldn't, not this time. He'd brought the pain, and it was Steve's turn to bring you pleasure; a reward for taking your punishment so well. Eddie couldn't deprive him of that.
Eddie's eyes met Steve's, nodding that they should switch places. Steve swung his legs off the bed, allowing you a moment to collapse, sniffle into the comfort of the duvet. Eddie caught your face before you could relax fully, kneeling on the mattress and cupping your jaw in one hand, free hand undoing your gag. He pulled the ball out of your mouth, the sting of drool attached from your mouth to the ball spilling and pooling on the mattress, wet matter mixing with your tears.
"How are you feeling?" Eddie asked, dark eyes scanning over your features, a silent check in. His grip was still on your jaw, fingers massaging your cheeks gently after the removal of the gag. Your heart swelled at the gesture.
"Good." You sniffled, eyes lifting up to him, rounded and watery. Eddie tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed sternly at you. You gave him a soft smile. "Still green."
"Look at you." Eddie cooed, a dimpled grin spreading over his features and warming you from the inside out. "My best girl, aren't you?"
Eddie was good like this. Good about making you feel better after your punishments, letting you know it's all still play. Sometimes it was easy to feel real about them, feel like that was their true feelings towards you. Steve was still learning to get out of that headspace, still a little unsure of when he let himself slowly fade. Sometimes, it was too early, interrupting the scene, others too far after. Thankfully, for the three of you, you had Eddie- the ever "seasoned veteran of kinky shit" as he liked to call himself.
"Fuck, baby," Steve groaned, harshly gripping your hot ass cheeks, pulling them apart. "You're drenched aren't you?"
You blushed, letting your face fall towards your arms, an attempt at hiding your embarrassment. Eddie caught your face easily, firm grip on your chin. "Did Steve not just ask you a question?" He tilted his head to the side in challenge.
"Yes, sir." You muttered, heat blooming down your neck from your cheeks, you knew your chest would be showing now.
"Not really a punishment if you enjoyed it, now is it, Princess?" Steve grinned.
You gasped before you could reply, his thick fingers pushing straight into your sopping hole, adding another and scissoring your walls, spreading them open gently. Your mouth water, hips writing against his fingers because you knew what that meant. He was opening you up, getting you ready so he could stuff you full of his cock.
"It was." You whined, bottom lip jutting out, eyes flitting up to Eddie. "I promise it was a good punishment. I learned my lesson, Daddy."
Eddie's face melted, eyes crinkling when he grinned at you. "Oh, honey," He cooed, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You purred, nuzzling against him sweetly "You're not done yet."
Your heart dropped, face following with it, while Eddie rolled off the bed. Steve snickered behind you, amber eyes flashing with excitement, tracking Eddie's movements towards the bedside drawer.
"But I-"
"You didn't think you'd get off that easy, did you?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, shaking his curls at you dumbly. Your face burned. "Steve, she really thought that was it?" He mocked you.
Steve's fingers were still working inside you, opening you up. "Surely, you're smarter than that." Steve snipped. "I mean, baby, c'mon, Ed would've at least used the cane if the spanking was it."
Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, bottom lip trembling. "At least." Eddie parroted with a smirk. He turned around and your heart skipped, seeing the bottle of lube in your hand. Fuck.
Eddie popped the cap open to the lube, slowly walking towards you. You looked over your shoulder, neck straining at the stretch. "I told you baby," Eddie said calmly. "That ass is mine tonight."
You gulped, hearing Steve's mocking chuckles, his fingers jamming deep inside you, making you gasp at the curl. You tried to focus on how he was making you feel, instead of Eddie's thick thumb that was circling your rear hole.
It wasn't that you didn't like anal, or didn't do it often; you were in a throuple for fucksake, of course anal came with the territory. You were use to the boys filling you up, if your mouth wasn't occupying one of their dicks, your ass was their choice. The issue was, it was always Steve. Steve wasn't small by any means, but less... girth than Eddie's cock and more gentle. Eddie had fucked you up the ass a total of four times, once to try, once for his birthday, and the other two as punishment. He always made sure you were lubed up, ready to take him so it didn't hurt- and it didn't really, besides the usual stretch, it just made you feel... uncomfortably full. When Eddie fucked your ass, he was in your guts, you were sure of it- you could feel it. It was a little invasive, overstimulating.
The cold shock of the lube dripping in a fat glob onto your tightest hole made you shiver, the sensation quickly replaced by Eddie's pointer finger, circling your hole, pressing inward just to the knuckle. You clenched, eyes screwing shut.
A sharp slap to your already stinging cheek pulled you away, leaving you gasping, turning back and pouting over your shoulder. Steve glared at you. "Relax. You know better." He warned, brow lifted carefully at you.
You took a shuddered, regulating breath, rocking back on your heels to try and relax into the touch. Your skin burned with every pull and knead of Eddie or Steve's hand on your inflamed cheeks, making you whimper, toes curling with sensation while Steve expertly punched that sensitive spot within you.
"Hm," Eddie groaned, fingers lazily pumping in and out of you. "Think you should get her good and relaxed, Stevie." Eddie nodded towards you. "Finish her off for me. Before we really get started."
You shuddered at the lingering threat in the air, a foreshadowing of what's to come. You were granted only a moment before Steve's tongue was on your cunt, lapping and suckling at your clit until you let out a strangled gasp. His tongue was quick, fluttering kitten licks to your clit while his fingers fucked you.
Your orgasm was close, fiery and fierce with a rapid approach that left you reeling, abs clenching and walls clamping around Steve's expert fingers before you gushed, flooding over his mouth and hand. He licked you up easily, smirking at every spasming aftershock that followed.
You were panting, gripping the sheets with a white knuckled vigor, chest rising and falling against the warmed cotton of the bed. Eddie grinned, arms crossed over his chest, half lidded eyes watching you with blown pupils.
"Good boy," Eddie grinned down at Steve. "Let me have a taste, fuck." Eddie moaned, leaning over to capture Steve's lips on his before he could wipe your juices off his mouth. Eddie was drunk on your taste, moaning into Steve's lips while their tongues swirled against each other, the tangy taste of you swapping between their lips.
You whimpered, craning your neck back to look over your shoulder, thighs clenching at the sight of the two men, kissing with a passionate fury. Eddie's eyes caught yours, breaking the kiss with a trail of saliva connecting off their lips. He looked down at you carefully, grinning salaciously, teeth bared.
"What do you think, Steve? Have her stand up or have her ride you? Your choice." Eddie offered with a slight nod of his head for you.
"Ooh," Steve laughed, eyebrows raising in delight. "Ya know, Ed, I just really think I want her to ride me." Steve's eyes narrowed in on you. "Because I know how much you love that, baby."
You bit back a huff accompanied with an eye roll that rivaled Steve's best. You didn't enjoy riding them, either one, especially when they double stuffed you like this. You always got weak kneed, legs shaking and struggling to keep up a good pace, almost always collapsing while they finished you out, cooing and mocking at you.
"I think that's a great idea." Eddie grinned, eyes never leaving yours with a wide eyed glare. "Go on then. Get ready to ride, baby."
That's how you found yourself, kneeled with your thighs on either side of Steve's hips, his hands on your waist, legs dangling off the edge of the bed while Eddie pumped himself between them. He watched as you bounced slowly, sinking further and further down onto Steve's cock, adjusting yourself there before he continued.
Eddie squirted the lube back on his fingers, smearing it over his angry cock. "You ready for me?" Eddie asked. You nodded slowly, eyes pinched in pleasure, nails sinking into Steve's shoulders with every slow drag of your hips up and down his cock.
"You remember your safe words?" Eddie asked again, brow lifting carefully. You nodded with a gentle whimper. "Lemme hear them." Eddie demanded, grinning when you repeated them back to him, voice high pitched and nasally; pathetic, how he loved it.
"Good girl." Eddie purred, shuffling closer. He took his free hand, letting it store down your spine gently. "Hold still for me for just a second, alright? Steve, hold her for me."
Steve's arms, thick and strong pulled around your waist, circling you and pressing a palm into the middle of your back, folding you forward so you were sunk against him, still wrapped around his cock but ass leaned forward and presented to Eddie. It had taken the three of you a while to perfect the position.
Eddie pumped himself, circling the rim of your open, tight hole before pushing the head in. You gasped, clenching and spine straightening at the sensation. Steve groaned, low and throaty at the feeling of your clamped walls strangling his cock, arms tightening around you to hold you close, keep you from wiggling while Eddie sunk himself in, slowly, hips rolling and inching closer and closer until you were full of him.
You could barely move, barely lift your hips to continue riding Steve while they double teamed you, too full of sensation and brain a hazy fog that overtook your senses.
"Fuck, what a good girl." Eddie hissed, hips stroking at a much gentler pace than he usually did against you, watching the lube and his own spend gather at the base of your tight hole. His mouth watered, pupils blown at the sight. "Isn't she a good girl?"
"Oh, the best." Steve huffed, breath strangled and trapped in his chest. You were slouched against him, drooling onto his shoulder, eyes glazed while his hips thrusted into yours. At this point, he and Eddie were practically tossing you back and forth with their thrusts, a bounce from one to the other like a teeter-totter.
"She's the best girl. She- oh, baby, right there- feels so, so good." Steve clenched his jaw, hissing at the way his cock was already twitching.
You mewled, shuddering with another wave of ecstasy release with every stoke of their cocks hitting your g-spots. It was overwhelming, leaving you shaking and breaths shuddering, head spinning at the feeling.
"Fuck, Ed, 'm close." Steve hissed, calves rising and flexing to thrust up into you.
"Me too." Eddie muttered, tongue poking out in concentration while he rocked his hips a little faster, a little harder, still holding back from riding you out like he normally did. He didn't want to hurt you.
Steve's hand left your waist, reaching out to join Eddie's on your hips, their thick hands intertwining to lace together while they chased their own highs, spilling into each of your holes with sputtered groans and gasps of air, singing your praises through shuddered breaths.
You were leaking both of them, letting it pool together beneath you on the sheets when they pulled out. Steve held you close, smattering your hair line with kisses and soothing words while Eddie wet a cloth.
"Such a good girl aren't you?" Steve cooed, nose rubbing into your sweaty hair line. "You took that so well, didn't you? You did. My best girl, look at you."
You whined, lightly gripping onto his chests. You felt underwater, removed and lightyears away from the two men in front of you, their doting kisses and sweet words lying over you like a soothing balm.
"She's still out of it." Steve muttered to Eddie, chest rumbling against your cheek.
"Go get her some water or gatorade." Eddie said, puddle brown eyes furrowed in concern when they looked at you. "Think that'll help. I'll clean her up."
Steve left you, propped on a pillow while you slowly blinked up at Eddie, his wild curls cascading down his face like a curtain over you, tickling your cheeks lightly. "Hi, sweet girl." Eddie cooed lightly. "You alright?"
You nodded vacantly, eyes looking past him and towards the ceiling, pupils blown. "You with me right now, sweetheart? Feel alright?" Eddie asked, brows creasing in concern.
"'M alright." You muttered, airy and breathy response.
Eddie's hand cupped your cheek, calloused thumb brushing over your tear stained cheek bone. "I'm gonna clean you up, ok, baby?" Eddie cooed. "Daddy's got ya, sweet girl. You just relax."
You shuddered, system shocking and screeching with alarm when the cold cloth brushed through your aching folds, swiping and cleaning you up gently. You whimpered loudly in protest, hips squirming away from the rag. Eddie's eyes flickered to yours, relief pulling at his tight chest when he saw your furrowed brow and pouting lips, some expression at least.
"'S alright, baby. I gotcha." Eddie cooed, free hand rubbing your thigh, while he cleaned you delicately.
Steve returned, lifting you up in his arms, pressing the plastic rim of the bottle to your lips, feeding it to you in slow slips. You let them baby you like that, more than content at their sweet, coddling ministrations. Your two mean men that could turn so easily from malicious to caring, for you.
You let them squeeze you between them, lying down on your tummy, hands under the pillow while their hands intertwined and rested on your lower back.
"You gonna do your assignments from now on?" Eddie asked, propped on his side to face you, free hand holding Steve's and the other resting under his head.
You nodded slowly, eyes pulling open before fluttering closed. "I will, Daddy." You muttered, sleepily. "Promise."
"You better." Steve chided, his thumb brushing down your spine, rubbing over your soft skin then Eddie's knuckles. "Or I'll use Daddy's cane on you every night for a week, understand?"
That was enough to get your eyes wretched open, wide eyed and timidly looking up at him. Steve glared at you, challenging and warning all wrapped up in those amber eyes, brow furrowed in a look that told you he was not playing. "I understand." You squeaked, shrinking under his glare.
"I'm sorry for lying." You shuddered, breath hitching in your throat, the swell of tears returning to your chest. "I-I'll talk to my professor about making up the work, and-and I'll make sure to bring home everything, and-"
Eddie shushed you gently, hand running down the locks of your hair, petting them soothingly. "Baby, it's alright. We're good for now." He said calmly. "Just relax. Let yourself rest, ok? I know you're tired."
You sunk back into the pillow slowly, eyes fluttering back shut, succumbing to the overwhelming tiredness that was racking your body. You felt the boys kiss you, pillowy lips on either side of your face muttering gentle words before leaning over you, kissing each other in a wet smooch that had you grinning softly. It was just the three of you for now, in your own little oasis. Two men and their little (sometimes bad, most of the time good) girl.
Description: you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...
Warnings: smutty smutty smut smut, lotta angst, tiny fluff. NSFW, Minors DNI I will whack you with a dinner plate, Eddie is mid 30s, tattoo artist, dom, reader uses sher/her pronouns, sub, fem! Oral receiving, praise kink, potential for Sir kink, a tiny bit of penis handling, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) genital and tongue piercings.
A/N: well, this thought gripped to the inside of my thighs and refused to let go. I had to share it with you before I started humping my furniture. Have fun. Again I'm English so I try with the Americanisms, anything I got wrong soz babe. BTW ST 4pt2 never happened soz babycakes ❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive (and my own heart beating)! If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤
Masterlist
5.2k words
Walking back to your ground floor apartment after your shift, your feet aching, you spot your neighbour sitting on a lawn chair in the courtyard smoking a cigarette. Your incredibly hot, older neighbour. Mr Munson.
The neighbour that sends shivers up your spine at the mere mention of him. The neighbour that you think about at night when you're in bed, all alone.
No doubt about it, he looked both hot and intimidating. Not that you would care to admit but that was entirely your type. Mid thirties, broad shouldered, and appeared to be as confident as a wolf, and about as self assured. He reminded you of one; gruff looking, proud, stalking around, making you feel like prey.
He looked particularly jaw dropping tonight in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up; part of his muscular arms were on display, covered in countless tattoos. You've heard that he works in one of the tattoo shops down town. In fact you've heard a lot about him, but that was one rumour that you actually believed.
Elbows resting on his knees, his messy hair fell in waves just brushing his shoulders, full lips taking a drag on a rolled cigarette. Peeking out of his shirt collar, between the waves of hair, you can see a skull like tattoo on the side of his neck.
Is that new? Oh God, he's so hot. Okay just walk past, act normal.
You saunter past him with as much confidence as you could muster.
"Hey Mr Munson." You nod in his direction, trying to stop your voice quaking, fumbling for your keys.
"Hey sweet thing. You good?"
Jesus, does he really need to call me that?
The nickname travels to the pit of your stomach making you squirm hotly.
"Yeah sir, just a long shift at the bar. Idiots tonight, you know?"
Mr Munson shifts in his chair taking a sudden breath in.
"Shit sweetheart, sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?"
Well, it couldn't hurt, right?
You flop down in the chair bedside him, gesturing for a drag on his cigarette.
"Can I?"
He smiles wickedly and puts his roll up to your mouth. The roughness of his fingertips brushes on your lips making you clench, almost rucking your hips up, albeit briefly. You hope he doesn't notice. Of course he does.
Taking half a hit you realise that it's not a fucking cigarette, it's a blunt. It's not like you'd never tried anything like that but it was certainly not what you were expecting. The heavy, sweet, herb feeling lays on your tongue. Eyes wide you breathe out, coughing slightly much to his amusement.
He holds it out at you so you can take a proper hit. Sucking at the blunt so you can take it all in, your lips brush against his calloused hands, adorned with rings.
Breathing out, you gaze at him. His smile splits his face wide open, thick tongue rolling to a point, licking across his upper lip in a teasing manner. You cannot help but focus on the tongue stud pierced right through the middle of the muscle, a long stainless steel bar penetrating his whole tongue. You had certainly never noticed it before. It's presence made you wet, sticking between your thighs at the sheer thought of what he could do with it.
"Something on your mind pretty girl?" A cocky side grin plastered across his handsome features.
Shit, I was totally staring.
Blushing, you look away and try to change the subject.
"You know, you should really warn a girl before she takes a hit of a blunt."
He laughs deep in his throat. "I thought you knew! So, why was today so terrible?"
"Just customers thinking that I'm nice to them because I want them, not because it's literally my fuckin' job. Couple dudes tried to hit on me, one of them grabbed my ass." You sigh into the night air.
"Shit, I hope you taught him a lesson."
"Of course, hit him on the head with my tray."
He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back. You gawp at his neck, sexy stubble running down past his Adam's apple. Turning his head towards you, he flashes his teeth.
"Didn't know you had it in you. Good girl."
Holy shit.
Your whole lower body clenches at his words of praise as you take in a shaky breath. The apples of your cheeks are on fire. Mr Munson gives you a knowing look, eyes glittering darkly.
You stand up on slightly unsure legs.
"Okay I'm- I'm gonna have a shower. See you around Mr Munson."
You fumble for your keys. Turning to your door you hear a gravelly voice behind you.
"Eddie. Call me Eddie."
********************
A few nights later and your surrounded by the rough brick interior of the bar, busy wiping down sticky tables. There's only half an hour until closing; half an hour and you can go home and rest. It's pretty empty tonight, just three regulars dotted around in the semi dark, nursing their drinks.
You haven't been able to get your latest encounter with Mr Munson, sorry, Eddie, off your mind. You liked to think you were a strong independent woman. You were 22 after all; having had to live on your own since you were 18, life hadn't exactly been kind. You had to be strong to survive. So why exactly was it that a few moments with Eddie had turned you into a blushing, giggling school girl? He had disarmed you with a few words and a rough grin and now you couldn't stop thinking of him. All he had done was call you a good girl and you turned into one. A simpering mess.
Doing a final sweep for glasses, you make your way back behind the bar just as the door opens and a brisk breeze blows in.
Oh fuck its him.
You see his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, leather jacket hanging open. His wild mane is in a low messy bun for once, tendrils of loose hair moving in the wind. He stalks over to you and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Dark eyes finding yours, he leans against the bar on one elbow, towering over you.
Plastering your customer service mask across your face; social armour to hide the nerves, you smile at him.
"Well good evening sir, what can I get ya?"
He grins at you devilishly, biting his lip, like he wants to devour you whole.
"What did I tell you? Call me Eddie."
"Sorry Eddie."
"Good girl. I'll have a bourbon, please."
Only just realising your mouth is hanging open, you slam it shut, cheeks burning. He looks at you smugly, like he's just proven a theory. Your body goes on autopilot, grabbing a glass, adding ice, measuring bourbon.
When you hand his drink over he slides over a twenty dollar bill.
"Keep the change."
You blink at him. "I couldn't, it's too much-"
"Then have a drink on me. I just finished a piece and got paid today. I'm celebrating."
You wouldn't usually, but you're on your own and it's nearly closing. Fuck it.
You pour yourself a bourbon, adding a dash of soda water to yours and take a sip. Eddie beams at you.
"Well thank you." You smile back at him, losing yourself in those dark brown eyes of his, watching the way the skin crinkles at the corners when he grins.
He sticks the ball of his tongue piercing out, rolling it between his lips as he stares at you. It seems like a subconscious movement, you're not sure he's aware that he's doing it.
"Why do you have that?" You blurt out, word vomit pouring off your tongue.
"Have what, pretty girl?" You're staring at his mouth, and he understands, sticking his tongue out at you.
"Thith?" He lisps at you, still poking his tongue out. Giggling, you nod.
His hand drops to the bar, thumb reaching out, stroking back and forth over the knuckles on the back of your hand. An involuntary shiver creeps down your spine at the touch of his rough skin.
"Oh, sweet thing. I think you know exactly what it's for."
His eyes are deep pools, inviting you in. Your thighs clench at his words, biting your lip.
"Oh."
He smirks at you, humming. You pull your hand away, looking at the time.
"Er, just a sec."
You move away slightly and shout out last call. Two of the patrons leave; the other walks over to the bar, slight stagger to his step. Serving him a final Scotch, he pounds it back and walks outside.
It's just you and Eddie. All alone.
"I've got to, um, finish closing up."
"I'll give you a ride if you'll have another drink with me."
You open your mouth. Then close it.
He pouts at you, looking at you with big doe eyes. "Please?"
Well fuck.
"Okay, just let me finish up."
You collect the rest of the glasses, wipe down the last of the sides and sort the nights takings, getting it all in the small safe in the back room.
After locking the front door you return, hang your bar apron up and pour the drinks. Eddie gestures for you to join him on the bar stool next to his. You perch on it lightly; he reaches for his wallet but you wave it away.
"No, I've already done the takings, this ones on me. For the ride, you know."
He shrugs, returning the wallet to his back pocket.
"So" you say, taking a sip of your drink, "you said you finished a piece. You're a tattoo artist, right?"
"Yep, that's right."
"Thought so, I heard a rumour."
"Rumour, eh? What else you heard?" Eyes glittering, he took a mouthful of bourbon.
You giggle "Hmm, well, I heard you were some Satanic cult leader in high school-"
He waved that off, "oh that's so old. If playing D&D is satanic then I'm the devil himself." He sticks his tongue out again, creating little horns with his fingers on his forehead.
You laugh at that, starting to finally feel at ease in his company. The bourbon helped.
"Someone said you sacrificed a goat in the woods once."
He nearly spits his drink at that one. "Now that's more like it, even I've not heard that one. Got any more?"
You blush, realising you've only heard one more.
"I heard you had... other piercings." You mumble, not wanting to say it too loud despite the lack of company.
"What other piercings?" He eyes never leave yours as he finishes his drink.
You're sure it's not normal to have so much blood in your cheeks. You can hear the blood swooshing in your ears. Finishing your own drink for courage, you gaze down at your hands in your lap.
"I heard you have a pierced..."
"Dick?" He ducks his head, trying to catch your eye again, cheeky smile on his face.
"Yeah." Your whole body feels hot and small under his gaze.
He just smirks at you and shrugs.
Is that a no? A yes? Now I'm dying to know!
He winks at your obvious frustration and says "come on I'll take you home."
********************
The ride home in Eddie's Mustang is uneventful. A little small talk is shared, but mostly you're staring out the window, trying to catch glimpses of him when he wasn't looking, eyes wandering to his crotch.
Pretty soon he was dropping you off at your front door, hand leaning on the door frame, crowding into your personal space. Just breathing the same air as him felt suffocating in the best way.
"Well, goodnight then sweet thing." He winks at you, glancing at your lips. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, but he breaks away and turns to leave.
"Do you wanna come in?" Shit did I just say that out loud?
"You sure?"
You nod and he throws you a wolfish grin. You've never felt so much like a lamb in your entire life. You may as well baa at this point.
You lead him into your tiny apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch, turning on a couple of dim lamps as you go. He flops down, manspreading, large hand resting on his knee.
"You want another drink? I've got bourbon but no ice I'm afraid."
"Sure thing sweets." He responds whilst slipping his jacket off, placing it on a nearby chair.
"You mind if I smoke? Just a cigarette, promise."
You smile at the reference, "sure, there's an ashtray just there."
He pulls out a pre rolled smoke, lighting it and taking a few drags.
When you've poured the drinks you make your way to the other side of the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table. He offers his cigarette to you. As you nod, he shifts closer, holding it to your lips. You take a couple of drags, relishing the feel of his fingers on your mouth. Every time your skin touches his it sends a flutter through your nerves.
You watch him take a sip of his drink, seeing him press that perfect bottom lip to the glass. He drinks and puts the glass down. Not even looking your way, he says "something you wanna share, pretty girl?"
"Do you? Is it?" You say doltishly. Well done, real eloquent.
"You really wanna know, huh?"
"Yes!" You say loudly, bourbon well and truly in the drivers seat for that one.
He laughs and looks at you dead in the eye, another chance to make you squirm.
"Yes."
Gaping at him for a few seconds, your brain and mouth finally connect.
"Do you- did it hurt? What's it look like? What kinda-"
Stopping you mid babble with a wave of his hand, he simply asks, "you wanna see it?"
Brain short circuiting, you merely stare at him dumbfounded. You nod, curiosity well and truly getting the best of you.
He stands up and undoes his belt, sound echoing through the apartment. Your gaze is fixated on his large hands as they deftly unbutton his jeans. A glimpse of a tattoo teases you on his lower abdomen. His happy trail is peeking out, leading to the large thatch of hair that snakes down to his manhood. You swallow hard.
He slowly pulls his boxers down and you scoot closer to have a look. It emerges from the fabric, to your surprise half hard.
You gape at it. You've seen dicks before. A handful. And they are just that, a handful. This is more than a handful. You think you'd struggle to get your hand around his. The girth of it was truly intimidating. It certainly looked long too, and that was at half mast.
The end of it was pink and rounded, and the piercing went through the slit at the top, down to the underside of the tip. The piercing was thicker than you imagined, a curved bar with thick steel balls on either end. You never thought you would be into this sort of thing, but just looking at it made you think about what it felt like. What it tasted like. You wet your lips and continue to stare.
On instinct, your hand reaches out. You only notice when it meets the roughness of his jeans, touching ever so closely to his exposed member.
You look up at Eddie's face. He's looking right back at you sinfully.
"Did it hurt?"
"Not as much as you'd think. Ached like a bitch the first time I got a boner though."
You giggle, staring at it again.
"Can I touch it?" What the hell. It just slipped out, unbidden. You see his dick twitch at the thought.
Eddie chuckles darkly. "Did you seriously just ask if you-"
"Sorry that was dumb of me-"
"Sure you can sweet thing."
Before your mind can even comprehend what's happening, your hand shoots forward with sudden bravery, reaching out to hold it. You inspect the tip, looking at the piercing, feeling his hardness grow under your delicate touch. Inquisitively you rub the jewellery with your thumb, inadvertently smoothing the pad of your thumb over his tip in the process. Eddie hisses through his teeth.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"
"No," Eddie manages through gritted teeth, "just felt really fuckin' good."
Oh.
You back off, moving your hands from his piercing and placing them in your lap. He tucks himself away again, doing up his jeans, subconsciously palming his length.
"Well? What do you think?" He sits on the couch next to you, denim clad knee touching yours.
"It's really big Eddie."
He laughs, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.
"You talkin' about the piercing or my dick?"
"Both." You couldn't help it. It had to be said. It was true. You knock your drink back, feeling entirely too sober for this conversation.
Eddie's mouth splits into a lazy smug smile. Finishing his own drink, he turns to you, eyes roaming over your body.
"So, do I get a turn now sweet thing?"
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "At what?"
Well, you got to touch me. Can I touch you?"
Your eyes widen at his brazen attitude, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the reason you had invited him in in the first place. The very air around you feels heavy, hot with anticipation.
"Ok."
You stand up shakily, mirroring his movements from earlier, unsure hands unbuttoning your jeans. Eddie's eyes travel down to your core, predatory gaze shamelessly wandering over you. Your jeans are a little big, slipping straight to your ankles when they're undone. You kick them off and away. Standing there in your tank top and tiny white panties you've never felt so exposed in your life.
Eddie stands up for a second looking down at you, eyes shining with mischief. He winks, and drops to his knees between the couch and the coffee table, grabbing your hips and pulling you to face him.
Sizeable hands hovering over the hem of your underwear, he looks up at you. "Can I? Can I take these off?"
You nod, cheeks flaring with heat.
Eddie licks his lips, eyes never leaving your cunt. "I'm gonna need you to say it, sweet thing."
"Y-yes Eddie." You manage to stumble out.
"Atta girl."
He peels them off. They stick for a moment between your thighs, slick and heat pouring from your core. The tops of your thighs are already damp with expectancy. Your muscles clench, pressing together with angst. Eddie pries your thighs apart slightly, thumbs massaging calming circles into the flesh.
Eddie presses a kiss to your mound, stubble scratching the delicate skin ever so slightly.
"Eddie what are you doing?"
"You said I can touch you."
"Yeah, so why-"
Eddie's tongue pushes between your folds firmly, tongue bar flicking right over your clit.
The noise you make is nearly inhuman, breath knocked out of your lungs in shock. Your legs buckle at the knees, ass falling to the carpet. He takes the opportunity to wedge his head between your legs, your thighs pushed as wide as far as the narrow space allowed, stuck between the sofa and the table.
His stubble is burning the insides of your thighs, roughly rubbing against your soft skin. Eddie licks into you, pushing his tongue inside your hole. You feel the warm wetness of his thick tongue and the foreign bump of hard steel forcing shockwaves of pleasure into you. The moan he rips from you reverberates in your chest, full of want.
Eddie groans into you, tongue making it's way to your clit, running in dizzying circles. The feeling is almost too much as you buck up into him, writhing your back on the carpet.
"Oh my God, Eddie!"
You can practically feel him smirking against your dripping pussy, getting his large hands underneath your ass so he can push his face into you even further. His tongue is everywhere, eating you out messily, hungry for you. The occasional rub of steel sends your senses into overload, hips rutting shamelessly into his face.
He moves one hand from underneath you and pushes two fingers deep onto your cunt. You're on the verge of screaming, tears gathering in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. The pressure of your desire collects in the pit of your stomach.
His fingers make you feel so full, reaching somewhere you've never been able to touch on your own. The rough sure movements of his hand so close to sending you over the edge, pussy grateful to have something to clench around.
"Eddie! Holy fuck." You cry out, an unsolicited tear spilling from your eye.
Eddie's mouth unlatches from your heat briefly.
"You gonna come, pretty girl? Come on, soak my face, that's my girl." And he's diving straight back in, tongue movements unmatched, strong fingers fucking into you. Desperate, filthy noises pour from your throat at the sudden onslaught.
Tensing up, you feel the unimaginable tight hot ball of desire suddenly drop. The feeling ignites through you like wildfire, coalescing into a burning, broken scream of his name.
Once you've chased your release as far as it could possibly take you, your back finally touches the floor again. Eddie moves away from you, sitting up, gazing at your fucked out form. Panting, flushing, sweating, you manage to look at him.
Eddie looks wild, feral, hair a mess, face covered and dripping with your slick. You can even see a wet shiny patch on his forehead. You giggle, dopey in your post orgasm haze.
"What? Have I got something on my face?" Eddie stares at you unblinking. You laugh loudly at that, pointing to where it was on his forehead. He laughs back and pulls his t shirt off, wiping his sticky face all over it before tossing it onto the sofa.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of him shirtless. Taunt, muscular frame, dark patch of hair covering his chest, matching the rough hair of his happy trail. He is littered with tattoos, some dark and bold, others lighter and faded. There's small patches of alabaster skin here and there. He's glistening, clearly having worked up a slight sweat just from the force of which he'd eaten you out. Muscles shining, catching the dim light.
He catches your lust filled stare and leans over you, caging your head with his strong arms.
"So, you wanna know why I've got the other piercing?" Sinful smirk turning his mouth up at the corners.
You crash your lips into his, throwing your arms around his neck. Desperate hands snake into his hair as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie's kisses are messy but skilful, one hand moulding to the back of your head, pushing you towards him almost painfully. The need for each other is tangible, bodies colliding, rolling into one another. He sits up, pulling you along with him by the waist, tongue continuously dipping into your mouth. Finally, you break from the kiss just to breathe. It's like all the air has been sucked from the room and all you can breathe is Eddie.
He's kissing along your jaw line, down your neck; yearning, robust kisses. Heaving breaths are coming from each of you.
"Bedroom?' Eddie manages between heavy panting and pecks.
Finally, he carries you through your bedroom door, dropping you onto the bed. Unbuckling his belt and exposing himself to you for the second time today, this time he's taking his clothes off completely, standing in front of you naked in all his glory. Further tattoos cover his hairy legs, you see his thick thighs flexing. He gives you a ravening look; predacious in its delivery, with a smile that belies the lust in his eyes.
You gesture to the hall and he wastes no time in standing up, pulling you along with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You wrap your legs around his waist, firm hands holding you steady, as he attempts to navigate your hallway whilst still kissing you.
Nearly tripping on your discarded jeans, he slams your back into the wall. You couldn't care less, tongue invading his mouth, pressing your naked heat against his solid bulge. His groans are so low they're almost growls, bearish and dominant. He takes the opportunity to press your form against the wall so he can pull your tank top over your head, eyes rolling back at your braless chest.
Quivering before him, he roughly widens your legs and slots his hips in between. You feel the hard shaft of his dick pressing against your slick folds, whimpering at the contact.
Hovering over you, one of his hands engulfs the side of your face, stroking down to your chin, holding you there. You stare at him open mouthed, consumed by the feeling of him rubbing up and down your wet pussy.
"You sure you want this, sweet thing?"
"Yes, Eddie please." Your voice doesn't sound like you, its smaller, meek. Your eyes plead with him.
Leaning in to you further, his hot breath whispers, deep voice on the shell of your ear. "Are you sure you can take it? Can you be a good girl for me?"
You moan loudly at him, small hands clasping at his biceps in desperation.
"Yes, please Eddie, I'll be so good for you!" You writhe underneath him.
He chuckles, biting his lip. "I knew you were into that. You got a condom?"
"No I'm on the pill, I need you, please."
"Holy shit." Eddie wastes no more time, rubbing his cock up against your entrance, strange feeling of the piercing hard against your slippery cunt.
He starts to push into you and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out. You grip his shoulders hard, trying so hard to take him. The stretch is intense. He's looking at you with concern, softer than he's ever looked at you.
"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt."
You nod, pupils blown, trying so hard not to clench around him. He bottoms out, the final push making you whimper.
Stroking your face, he gives you a moment to adjust.
"So fuckin' beautiful like this."
Your cheeks burn at the praise, lips enveloping his in a soft kiss.
He moves, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, a loud whine escaping from your lips. The burning feeling has been replaced with pure ecstasy. You're sure you can feel the steel of the piercing hitting that spot inside you.
Thrusting into you slowly a couple of times, you already feel pressure in your stomach, knots tied tight and begging to be released. The sensation tightens further, shoots of it flying down your legs and up your spine. You clench around him hard, moaning.
"Fuck Eddie I'm gonna cum, fuck." You pant out, eyes wide.
"Already? Shit you're gonna give me an ego."
"You already- oh God, fuck- you already have one."
He laughs loud and thrusts into you harder. Instantly you release, the ropes holding your stomach snapping. You come with a high pitched squeal of his name. You hear your wetness before you can feel it, a squelching noise resonating with each drive into your sopping cunt.
"Oh fuck, sweet thing, you squirted. Soaked me. You're- perfect" he groans. You keen at the praise.
Getting on his knees he pulls you bodily into him, slamming into you harder, hands digging at the flesh of your hips. You've never felt so full in your life, his cock piercing nudging your g spot with each thrust.
Eddie's grunting with effort, hair completely loose now, wild around his shoulders. Your fingernails bite into his flexing muscles leaving crescent moons in their wake.
"Shit, sweet thing, oh fuck."
Eddie pushes himself forcefully back on top of you, folding you in half, knees pressed against your stomach.
"Oh Eddie!" It's just so overwhelming. You're full to the brim with him, satisfaction coating your insides, eyelids coated with emotion. Tears spring out the corners of your eyes, running down your temples. You're trembling, inundated with emotion and sensation.
"Hey, hey, you ok?" He slows.
"Yes fuck please Eddie don't fucking stop!"
Grinning wickedly he thrusts into you without restraint, slamming his hip bones into the flesh of your thighs, cock breaching you like nothing ever before.
Clamping down around him, your third orgasm is an ocean; wave after wave of sinful pleasure washing over the very fabric of your being, stripping you back to your bare components and leaving you breathless, sweating, and as exposed as a raw nerve. You babble, and cry, and whine his name, eyes tight shut, utterly taken by the moment.
Eddie's plunges into you start to falter. Feeling him twitching, becoming impossibly harder inside you he comes, spilling his seed deep into your cunt. The warm, rushing feeling just expands the length of your own release, waves finally ebbing and retreating.
Eddie pulls out from you, leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. He lies on his side next to you, thumb approaching to rub a stray tear from your cheek. You're both perspiring; glowing forms gasping for air.
Finally catching some semblance of breath, he strokes your cheek again, wide grin dissipating on his face.
"You ok pretty girl?"
"Yeah you could say that." You huffed a laugh, still trying to focus on how he'd made you feel.
"But you cried?" Its a question, but he looks concerned, hands attempting to comfort you.
"It was just, so much. Too good, you know." Taking in his smirk you say "don't you let that go to your head!"
"Bit fuckin' late for that" he laughs. "C'mere."
He gathers you up in his strong arms, holding you close, and kisses you on the forehead. The affection honestly takes you by surprise, expecting him to have bolted by this point, having got what he wanted.
"Can I level with you?"
Oh shit here we go.
"I've wanted to do that since you moved in." He grins at you.
"Oh, really?" You look up at him, surprised that he'd been feeling the same as you. "Well, same. You're really hot."
He laughs and strokes your back.
"You working tomorrow?"
"No, why? Are you?"
"No. I wanna take you out somewhere, if you want." He almost looks embarrassed. Almost.
"Are you asking me out on a date Mr Munson?" You smirk at him in disbelief.
"I mean, yeah, if you wanna. Unless you just wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I can just leave." There's a quaver to his voice. A weakness your not used to hearing.
You stare up at him. Cocky, confident Eddie Munson, was about as unsure as you were. You giggle.
"I'd love to go on a date with you." Smiling, you attempt to hide it into his inked chest.
"So, wanna take a shower?"
"Well" you say, leaning up on your elbow, "we could. Or..."
"Or what, sweet thing?" He rubs your arm, furrowing his brow.
"Or, we could do that again."
Tag list (please reblog this fic if you want to stay in the tags ILY ❤)
HELP ME—FUCKING HELP! LIFE ALERT RN, FOR I HAVE PASSED AWAY! The way you perfectly describe everything, including having Eddie in character but also giving him these delicious edges and different physical trademarks…. The dialogue had me salivating. And the smut? I literally clenched my thighs together and things, well, they are achey… BRAVO 👏🏻 😜🥵🤤🤤💯
Fuck these reblogs are kicking my ass seriously, thank you so much for your support and kind words. You seriously got what I was doing and that means such a lot to me, thank you!!!
my current cant-get-to-sleep audiobook is The Wind in the Willows, and I’m obsessed with whatever it is Mole and Ratty have going on
like… Mole shows up, and then within the day Rat has asked him to move in with him, and then for the rest of the book they’re just… living in apparent domestic bliss? And in the winter Rat writes poems while Mole fettles about?
Anyway have a quote:
The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat’s paw in the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll do whatever you like, Ratty,” he whispered. “Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite early—very early—and go back to our dear old hole on the river?”
