pretty-batty

[pretty-batty]

The problem with commercial F/M romance is that it's written by the most heterosexual women alive and reading it you feel yourself slowly suffocating from the Gender of it all like a fish in a eutrophying lake. And what we actually need as a culture is F/M written by insane bisexuals violently allergic to heteronormativity

[pretty-batty]

Sorry ahem...

Good soup

Hi 👋

I had a smut idea about a modern version of Rockstar!Eddie. Corroded Coffin is just taking off so of course Eddie interacts with fans through social media, answering dms and liking fanart. One day Eddie gets a dm from Virgin!Reader, asking him if he can take her virginity. At first Eddie is very unsure about it until he learns more about Reader and agrees. How does that sound?

Xx

Drunken Texts

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Virgin!fem reader

Word Count: 5.6k

You drunkenly DM the Eddie Munson asking him to be your first.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f & m receiving), p in v, fingering, virginity taking.

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @xxladymjxx, and @emma-munson

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I started my masters program and have kinda been in a slump lately, but I am so happy that I finished this for you @randomreader1999 I was determined bc you have read and liked literally everything I have ever posted and I love you!

Masterlist

Eddie scrolled through his DMs in the dark of the tour bus. He loved to answer fans, even if his manager told him it wasn’t a good idea. The rockstar life was brand new to him and he couldn’t help wanting to have a relationship with his fans. He knew he would have loved for his idol to message him back when he was once a nobody, so he was only doing what he thought would be great fan service.

It wasn't until he clicked on your message that his heart skipped a beat. 

Hiii Eddie 

I know this iis a weird thing to ask but… woul dyou take my virginity???

His mouth hung open, shocked at what he was seeing. Sitting there, he battled with what he should do. Did he just leave it on read or maybe turn down the poor girl as politely as he knew how? 

Then, he saw that little green dot next to the profile picture and all of a sudden Instagram was telling him you were in the chat. 

He freaked out even more when he saw the bubble appear, signaling you were typing. 

Oh my god!!

Please ignore that 

I wasn't exactly sober when I sent it to you 

Eddie chucked at the speed at which your messages came in. You were definitely freaking out on the other side. So he decided to answer and put you at ease.

It's alright

Mistakes happen, believe me

He watches as your typing bubble appears once more. 

Oh my god, you actually answered me.

I'm going to fucking die

Please don't think I'm a creep, I promise I'm not!! 

I didn’t think you would see that 

Eddie shakes his head, a bemused expression washing over his face. Deciding it was late, he turned his phone off and set it aside. Sleep comes fast. It usually did, not only because Eddie could fall asleep anywhere, any time, but life on a tour bus–performing in a new town almost every night–was exhausting, especially for someone who was still new to the rockstar world.

When Eddie awoke the next morning, the first thing he did was grab his phone. Opening it, he was still in the chat with you. He laughed through his nose softly as he reread your messages. He should have clicked out and gone about his day, but for some reason, he wanted to continue talking with you. 

So, as he climbed from his bunk, he texted you back once more. 

Hey

Hope you didn’t die

…..

The ding from your phone caught your attention, pulling you away from typing on your computer. It was muscle memory that had you reaching for the device and pressing on the notification before even looking to see what it was, too confident it was either your best friend/roommate or your mother who always seems to be in your business. 

But as you look at the message, your eyes widen and your face heats with embarrassment. It was neither your mother nor your roommate… No, it was Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, who had been witness to your most epic blunder. 

“Fuck!” The curse echoes through the apartment. Why is he messaging me? Again? Your heart thuds in your chest. Should you answer him back? Should you just ignore it? You had no clue what to do as your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“What’s all the yellin’ about?” 

You startle when a voice calls out from the front door. Looking up, you see your roommate, Robin, taking her shoes off. 

“Hey, Rob. I’m actually going to fucking die. Like you need to find a new best friend because I am no longer here.”

She walks into your room and leans on the door frame, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Normally, I’m the dramatic one… What’s happened?”

You can’t help but nervously laugh and rub the back of your neck with a sweaty hand. 

“Oh my god, what did you do? You have that look!” She gasps and points a finger at you.

“What? I don’t have a look.” You defend. 

“Oh, yes, you do. You have this guilty look when you do something bad.” She argues, stepping further into your room. “Tell me what you did or I’ll hit you.” She makes a hard swipe at your shoulder.

Instinctively, you go to hold your assaulted arm. “Ow! What the fuck Rob!”

“Tell me or I’ll do it again.”

“Okay, okay! No need to get violent. Sheesh.” 

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your chair to face her as she sits on the edge of your bed. 

“So remember when we went out drinking the other night and I got all sad drunk on you because I’ve never had sex, let alone been in a relationship?”

She squinted her eyes, trying to determine where you were going with this. 

“And then you told me to just shoot my shot?” Well, drunk me apparently thought DMing my celebrity crush “Take my virginity” was a good fucking idea.”

Robin gasps, hand covering her mouth. “Oh babe, you did not…”

“Oh, wait, it gets worse.” You clap your hands together. “He fucking messaged me back. Twice! He probably thinks I'm a weirdo, maybe a stalker? I can never show my face in public again!”

“Alright, just calm down for a second.” Robin stands from her spot on the bed and stands in front of you with her hand out. “Let me see the damage.”

Reluctantly, you hand her the phone. She’s doing an awful lot of humming while looking at the short yet mortifying conversation. 

“Why do you keep humming like that?” You ask. She's making you nervous. 

She looks over the top of the phone at you and then back down. “I think he’s trying to start a conversation with you. Why else would he respond after seven hours? He actually might be flirting.”

You look at her horrified. “Robin, I highly doubt he is flirting with the crazy nobody who drunk texted him at 2 a.m. on a Saturday. If anything he’s trying to get information on me for a restraining order! I wouldn’t blame him.”

“Babe, you–and I can’t stress this enough–need to take a chill pill. Sure, you asked rising rock sensation Eddie Munson to take you to Pound Town, but the man is into it. He wouldn’t text you again if he wasn’t. If anything, he would have deleted the DM and gone about his day, he probably gets hundreds of texts just like it and there is just something about you that is reeling him in. In my expert opinion-”

“I’m sorry, expert?”

“Yes, expert. Now shut up. I think you should go with it. Text him back, flirt it up, because who knows what could happen? Maybe one day he’ll follow through on your request.” Robin is giving you a manic smile, one that has an idea behind it.

You squint your eyes at her, deciphering what she could be thinking. “Robin. No, don’t you dare.”

She yelps, shocked at the way you grab for your phone. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t do whatever it is you are thinking of doing!” You stand, reaching for the phone again. That’s when she bolts. “Robin! Come back here!”

“I’m doing you a favor! You’ll thank me later! Trust me!”

You chase after her through the apartment. Your poor downstairs neighbors probably think a herd of horses is running around above them. 

“I really don’t trust you, Rob! Give me the phone!” 

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands!” She screams as she makes a run for her room, slamming the door behind her. You catch up fast, pushing on the door and entering without a problem. She’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Rob? Where are you?” You ask, knowing she can only be in one of two places in the room. She’s either shoved herself under her bed or in the back of her closet. 

So, you stop and listen. You can hear the faintest of tapping sounds as her fingers furiously type away on your phone and it’s coming from under the bed. Diving to the floor, you pull the bed skirt away and see her lying there. 

“Robin, I swear to god, I'm going to kill you. Give me the goddamn phone.” You grab at her ankle and pull. She begins to scream and you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation. 

“Stop! Stop or I swear I’ll send the message!” 

You stop pulling but you don’t let go. 

“How do I know you won’t just send it?”

“You have to trust me.” 

Sighing, you shake your head. “This situation has destroyed my trust in you. Slide me the phone and I’ll let you go.”

“Are you negotiating with me?” The tone in her voice is almost offended.

“Yes, I am negotiating with you. Your life for my phone with an unsent message.”

Robin huffs, “Alright. Deal.” She slides the phone back to you and you let go of her foot, snatching your device off the floor. 

She clambers out from under her bed but you can’t help but see the suspicious-looking face she’s making. 

Hastily, you unlock your phone, and low-and-behold, there is a message from you, or rather Robin, to Eddie Fucking Munson. 

Currently dying as we speak

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” You jump forward, grab one of her many stuffed animals from her bed, and launch it full speed at her. 

Robin ducks, laughing hysterically as she does so. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, you aren’t!” You throw another plushy. 

She moves to grab what you’ve thrown off the floor and begins pelting them back at you. “You’re right, I’m not! I’m helping your love life!”

Soon, you both calm down, each of you falling flat onto Robin’s bed and laughing. 

“I can not believe you did that.” You nudge her shoulder and she can’t help but giggle. 

“I really am sorry, but where else are you going to get the opportunity to flirt with the guy you’ve liked since before he got famous?”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I actually hate that you’re right.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately.” You groan as you stand up and begin to walk back to your room. 

You’re greeted with another ding when you fall back into your desk chair. This time you check the notification. Eddie has messaged back and it has your nerves standing on end. 

Could he really be flirting with you like Robin suggested? Is he like this with every girl who comes crawling into his DMs?

Against your better judgment, you open the message.

If you’re going to die, at least leave me something in your will.

That makes you laugh softly before typing back. 

And what makes you think I’ve got something for you to have?

He answers quickly.

I’m sure you can think of something 

No can do. 

All of my belongings are going to the ole best friend

so you’ll have to take it up with her

Dang, I was really hoping for something to remember you by.

I guess these messages will have to suffice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You catch yourself biting your lip, a blush blooming on your face. 

Maybe you could think of something for me to give you…

What you were doing was a slippery slope. The ellipsis at the end of the sentence insinuates something less than innocent. You just couldn’t help it, Robin was right, he was flirting with you and obviously, your very forward first message didn’t deter him, so what was the harm in being a little risky? 

The three little dots appear as Eddie types. Then they stop and start again over and over. It makes your stomach flip. Maybe you shouldn’t have been suggestive. 

Oh I might have something

Your heart beat faster.

And what’s that?

I couldn’t help but go through your profile and I’m guessing you live in New York

Are you coming to the CC concert in a few days?

You aren’t too sure what he’s getting at but you answer him anyway.

Tickets were sold out in like five minutes, so unfortunately I’m not coming. 

He’s quick to respond.

Well, we can't have that. 

What if I put you on the VIP list? Would you come?

Are you sure? You don’t have to do that, it’s too much. 

Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn't.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what you should say. ‘No’ would be the best answer, the safe answer but ‘yes’ was exciting and what you wanted to say deep down. After a game of mental tug-of-war, you finally begin to type.

Alright, I’ll be there. 

Great. The VIP entrance is on the north side of the venue, I'll be waiting for you.

……

The Corroded Coffin concert wasn’t for a few hours but with a mix of anxiety and excitement, you had gotten ready and made the long trek to the venue quicker than you thought you would. Luckily there was a tall man, most likely security, standing in front of what Eddie said would be the VIP doors. 

He spots you as you walk closer, his arms crossed and his eyes squint at you with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, he speaks, “Can I help you?”  

“I know I’m early but I should be on the VIP list.” The statement came out sounding more like a question than you had wanted it to. 

“I think you have the wrong place, there’s no VIP for this concert.” 

You turn your head to look back down the street and then back to the man in front of you. “This is the Corroded Coffin venue, isn't it?”

He nods, “Yeah, it is.” 

Before he could continue, theres a ringing that interrupted him. Pulling his phone out he takes a glance at the screen before his eyes snap back to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and before you can ask what’s happened, he steps back and opens the door. As he waives you inside, he says, “Eddie’s down the hall, to the right, and through the only red door.” 

The area backstage is as grungy as expected with its black-painted cinderblock walls covered in hundreds of stickers and graffiti. The band’s equipment fills the space making the path around it extremely narrow. You squeeze past amps and instruments and step over loose cords on your way to the door where you were told Eddie would be waiting.

It’s easy to find the red door. It sits at the end of the hall one bright light shining overhead, like it’s beckoning you forward, enticing you. 

You can’t help the nerves you feel, your heart pumping faster and faster, the lump in your throat. It all gets worse when you knock on the door and hear a muffled, “Yeah?” 

Taking that as your cue to go in, you open the door slowly. Eddie is sitting there on a black leather couch face buried in his phone. He looks up only slightly before he moves his gaze back down only to do a fast double-take when he realizes who you are. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t think you would be here this early.” He sets his phone down on the arm of the couch before standing and walking toward you. 

“Why? Waiting on another girl to show up before me, trying to worm your way into someone else's will?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, yours is the only one I’m trying to get written into at the moment.” 

You can’t help the sheepish smile. “Ah, so I’m the only one for now but there will be others.”

“We’ll see,” Eddie winks, moving back to his seat on the couch.

Silence falls between the two of you. Nervously you begin to flit your eyes around the small room, fingers plying with the hem of your shirt. 

“You can sit if you’d like, I won’t bite.” Eddie motions for you to sit beside him and slowly you make your way over. 

Your skirt rides up and the leather of the cushion feels sticky against the backs of your legs, but it doesn’t distract you from how nervous you have become being in direct contact with one of your biggest crushes.  

“You okay?” 

Nodding stiffly, you respond, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He takes your hand, and the warmth radiating off him makes you feel more at ease. The nervousness slowly dissipates as you get lost in his deep brown eyes. “You seem a bit nervous, I swear I just wanted to hang out with you, no funny business,” he raised his right hand, holding up three fingers, “Scout's honor.”

Laughing, you say, “I believe you! It’s just that you’re you and I’m me.”

“You say that like I’m some kind of celebrity.”

“But you are. And it’s kinda intimidating.”

Edde laughs loudly, “Me? I’m intimidating? What about sweet ol’ me intimidates you?”

You can’t help but giggle, entranced by his liveliness. “I don’t know, probably everything?” You motion up and down at him. 

“Oh come on!”

“No, really!” 

He looks at you, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

“I’m just shy, and you seem to exude confidence.”

“Na, that’s only on stage sweetheart. Think of it as an act.”

The longer the conversation went, the more comfortable you became. Eddie was no longer this scary rockstar sitting before you but a regular charismatic guy. Your posture was no longer rigid as you sat curled up on the couch. Eddie had gotten closer but he was still at a respectful distance. 

You’re pulled from your chat when someone knocks on the door. When it opens, a short blond woman is standing with a clipboard clutched in her hand and her finger pressed to a button on the side of her headset. As she spoke into her mic she waved her clipboard at Eddie, beckoning him to come with her. 

Eddie checks his phone and stands within a second. “Looks like it’s show time. Follow Chris here and she’ll lead you to the barricade. I’ll see you after?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ll see you when the show’s over!” 

……

The venue isn’t big but it feels like thousands of people are cramped into the tiny space. You’re thankful to be at the barricade where you at least have no one crowded in front of you, even if you are being squished against the metal railing.

The crowd is rowdy, chanting for the band to come out. Their screams only become louder once the lights dim and the squeal of a guitar erupts over the speakers. Your heart is in your throat as you make out the band filing onto the stage in the almost pitch blackness. 

Then, in an instant, the spotlight comes on and Eddie steps forward as he plays the opening riff to their newest song. 

The way his fingers dance across the frets is making you clench your legs. If his fingers could play that fast, what else were they capable of? 

As he begins to strut across the stage, lyrics flow past his lips carried by a deep, sensual tune. His eyes catch yours in the crowd and from that point on, you were entranced. Your eyes never left his. No longer were you surrounded by a crowd, separated by a stage and a metal barrier. No, you were right next to him. You could feel him, his warmth, and the way his breath fanned over your face as he sang. 

The concert went by with you bewitched, like a sailor hearing a siren song. Eddie seduced you with his words and movements until you were almost a puddle on the floor.

Finally, when the lights went down and the crowd filed out, a security guard came to escort you backstage once more. 

The atmosphere had changed from the light-friendly one that had been there hours before. Now the air in the small room was charged. You felt the air crackling as you ended, goosebumps rose on your arms as Eddie greeted you. His eyes were filled with something more than friendliness.

Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to speak and your mouth felt dry even as saliva pooled in response to the sweaty mess that stood in front of you. 

It’s like your body went into autopilot, your mind swirled as you stepped toward Eddie. Your hips swung sensually and once you were close enough to him, you reached a handout and pushed him back onto the couch. 

He landed with a “humph”. His eyes followed you as you slowly fell to your knees. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You look up at him though through lidded eyes. “I meant what I said the other night.” Your hands glide up his thighs, fingers barely tracing over the bulge underneath the zipper. “I want you to take my virginity.” 

Eddie catches your hands. “You sure about that? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to.”

Sighing, you lean into his space, “I’m so sure.” 

With nimble fingers, you unhooked the button of his leather pants, the zipper moved down on its own thanks to Eddie’s stiff cock pressing against the tight fabric. 

You can't stop your mouth from salivating when you see he isn’t wearing underwear. He lifts his hips, helping you to pull his pants down. Your eyes widen at how massive he is. Eddie smirks when you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t worry baby, you can take it.” 

You aren’t quite sure you can. He’s intimidating, especially for your first time, but he soothes you with gentle, calloused fingers brushing your cheek, pulling you to him. 

With a quivering lip, you open your mouth, tongue pushing forward–waiting eagerly to taste him. You can’t help the lewd moan that erupts from the depths of your throat once Eddie’s cock is placed on your wet muscle. He’s warm, hot almost, and the bead of white at his slit tastes weird. 

Your eyes meet his when you look up at him, the once-milk chocolate of his irises had turned pitch black as he watched. Slowly you close your lips around him and begin to bob up and down along his length. 

“Oh- oh fuck.” Eddie choked out. His hand flew to the top of your head, harshly tugging on the strands of hair. It sent a delicious sting down your spine and a pulsing throb through your cunt.

You keep going, the whimpering moans erupting from Eddie the only encouragement you needed. His mouth is spewing filthy words, ones that would have any grandmother clutching her pearls, but no, they spur you on, had wetness soaking into your underwear. You were afraid if he didn't stop, you'd cum without having been touched. 

“God damnit, your mouth is so fucking good, Baby. Fuck.” Eddie’s fingers grip tighter and his hips start to tick upward, shoving him further into your throat. You can’t stop the gag that comes at the intrusion. Pulling away a line of spit still connects your mouth to him. You take a moment to breathe, the sight of Eddie's flushed face and dark eyes fueling your desire. He looks down at you, a mixture of awe, concern, and raw need in his expression.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him once you catch your breath. “I just wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, chests heaving and eyes wandering, until Eddie begins to move. He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you up and into him, his lips press to yours and you melt into him. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before he is trailing down, tongue smoothing over your jaw and he attaches against the soft skin of your neck. The sucking you feel is a weird sensation but not at all unpleasant. 

Goosebumps appear in the wake of Eddie’s fingers as they travel down your arms and to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on it slightly, prompting you to pull away so he can slip the top over your head. Deft fingers work at your bra strap as he starts kissing over your shoulder and chest, stopping to suck and nip where he pleased. 

“Eddie,” you sigh.

He hums in acknowledgment. 

“Need more. Please I need more.” 

Without a word, he breaks away and pushes you onto your back. His hands are hot as they travel over your legs and under the pleats of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat when Eddie begins to drag your panties down your legs. 

Embarrassment flushes over you when his eyes lay upon your needy cunt. No one has ever seen you like this, vulnerable with all your most intimate parts on display. You can’t help but shy away, gazing anywhere but at Eddie. 

“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen,” he remarks as he leans closer. His tongue slips past his lips, tasting the wetness gathering at your folds. A primal moan escapes him as he begins to lap at you, drinking you in. His fingers splay over your thighs, pulling you closer as he eats you like a man starved. 

“Oh! Oh fuck-” You can't help the exclamation. The feeling of his wet muscle sliding over your clit in just the right way, at just the right rhythm. Your hands grip at anything they can, trying to keep you from floating away. 

You felt so good. He felt so good. Ecstasy flowed through your veins like rushing rapids, untamed and strong. Zaps of electricity could be felt throughout your body as he ate you up. 

Thick fingers tease at your entrance and your legs instantly snap shut. Eddie uses his other hand to pry your thighs from around his head. “Keep ‘em open sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered and seized when one of his digits easily slipped into you. You could feel yourself clenching around him, it wasn't enough, you needed more, needed him to stretch you out further.

“Eddie- Eddie please,” you gasp. “More!” 

He hums into your cunt, the vibrations make your back arch off the sticky leather of the couch. Within seconds of your demand, Eddie is slipping a second finger inside you. You can feel the sharp cold from his rings as they come into contact with your hot skin and his thick fingers curling into you. 

All that could be heard in the room were the wet sounds of the rockstar feverishly finger fucking you and the gasping moans you let out every time he licked you just right or his fingers brushed just against a sensitive spot.

Eddie removed himself from your clit with a ‘pop’, the cool air that rushed over the wetness made you shiver. “Look so fuckin’ pretty all splayed out for me, Baby. What do say we kick it up a notch hum?” He asks, voice sickly sweet. 

“Yes, fuck- yes.” You agree, body thrumming with anticipation. 

Slowly, he removed his fingers from you. You blushed as you watched him bring the digits to his mouth, tongue licking the remnants of you off them. “You taste so fucking good. God, I want to be between your legs forever.” 

His words did something to you. Your pulse quickened and your cunt fluttered, emotions went feral inside of you. It took all your energy not to pull him into you at that moment. 

“Fuck me,” you spoke, just above a whisper. 

“What was that, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please, I need to feel you inside me, pounding into me. Make it so I feel you for days after I leave, I need it, I want it so bad, please.” It might have sounded desperate but you didn’t care. It was the last thing on your mind. You were so close to having him, you could just taste it and it was driving you crazy.

“Oh yeah? Want my fat fucking cock inside that tight cunt? Stretching you out, ruining you for anybody else? Hum? Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you beg, “yes, please. Want your cock in me now.”

“Alright, Sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want.”

Eddie’s large hands splayed over your hips, pulling you into the position he wanted. You watched in awe as he brought the angry red tip of his cock to your drooling cunt, gliding it through your folds and pushing it gently inside. 

He was so big, just the tip of him was stretching you farther than you ever had been before. Your hips careened away from him but he held your steady. 

“Not gonna hurt you, just gonna take it slow until I get all the way in,” He spoke gently, soothingly. 

Nodding, you take a deep breath, trying to relax as he pushes into you inch by glorious inch. 

A loud cry sounds in your throat as he bottoms out. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a fierce ache erupts in your abdomen. 

Eddie grunts, pulling back slowly, just an inch before he pushes back inside. The tip of him presses into you, coaxing the fire in your belly. It’s only been a few minutes but you want more, you want it harder, faster, less careful. You wanted to be fucked. You wanted to know what it was like to not be able to walk straight after, wanted to experience life-altering sex with the man of your dreams. 

“More,” you mewl. “More, Eddie, I want more!” 

His hips pick up pace in answer his movements becoming more urgent as he responds to your plea. The room fills with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic creak of the couch. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, as he fulfills your deepest desires.

You could feel it, a little tingling in your tummy as he fucked you deep and raw. Something you had never experienced before, not even when you had come by yourself. You were building up fast, causing your body to shake and your toes to curl as you tried to hold it off, but it was no use. You were tipping over the edge within a second. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream, head flung back into the cushion. Your chest rose in the air and Eddie held you tightly, his thrusts coming short and fast as he worked you into your rapture. “Eddie! I’m- I- I’m- Oh shit. Oh, holy shit. I’m about to-”

“I know. Can feel you squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice.” His arms flex as he holds you steady against his assault.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, every muscle in your body contracting with intense pleasure. Eddie continues to move within you, prolonging your ecstasy until you collapse back on the couch, utterly and completely spent. He follows soon after, his release warm on your stomach, leaving you both breathless and sated.

Laying there, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. You had just fucked the Eddie Munson… Not just fucked, you let him be your first. Who knew a drunken text could lead to something as inconceivable as having a literal rockstar fuck you until you were seeing stars. 

You could feel Eddie shifting, and you opened your eyes to see him looking down at you. His lips moved, but you could hear no sound. Your heart was racing, and the blood was pumping too loudly in your ears for you to make out what he was saying. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie just shook his head, a smirk forming on those kiss-swollen lips. He stood from the couch, careful not to put his weight on you. 

You watched him closely as he pulled his pants up his thighs and walked to a black duffel bag in the corner. He rummaged through it for a moment before coming back, a green and white package of baby wipes in tow. Taking one out he slowly wiped at the mess you had both made, cleaning you gently. 

By the time he finished, the rushing in your ears had stopped. “Thank you,” you said as you sat up, pulled your skirt down, and searched for your bra and shirt. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Sweetheart. Any decent person offers aftercare.” He bends down, grabs the garments you were looking for, and hands them to you. 

Shaking your head, you say, “Not just for that, Eddie, for everything. I was mortified when I noticed those drunk texts, I still kinda am, but I’m glad you didn’t just block me and move on.” 

“‘S’all right, I actually thought it was cute.”

“You did not… It’s so embarrassing.” You bury your face in your hands blushing as red as you possibly could. 

“Oh, but I did. I wouldn’t have entertained the conversation with you if I hadn’t.”

“Mmm, okay then.” You shake your head. Standing up, you grab your stuff and look back at Eddie. “I guess I should go now, you probably have somewhere to be.” Taking a step toward him, you were going to kiss him on the cheek but thought better of it. Somehow that felt more intimate than the sex you had just had. 

He caught your hand as you turned to go. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Looking back at him you spot your panties hanging from the index finger of his other hand. “Oh, sorry.” You reach to grab for them but he pulls them away. 

You look at him, brow raised in confusion.

“On second thought, maybe I should keep them so I have an excuse to see you again?

[pretty-batty]

Eddie Munson Lips (2/?)

Enjoy it, you slutty whore

[pretty-batty]

me as a writer

[pretty-batty]

hey! take it easy soon, if you can. 

[pretty-batty]

Eldath's Priestess Update

Hey there, lovelies! It's been a bit. I have a special, spicy winter treat for everyone coming out tomorrow.

@loserboysandlithium, @secretdryrose, and @songbirdmunson

[pretty-batty]

i’m like if a writer did not write and did other things instead

[pretty-batty]

i miss my boyfriend guys :(

[pretty-batty]

heat

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Eddie’s POV

Synopsis: After recently getting changed into a werewolf, Eddie thought he was aware of all the side effects. Turns out, there’s another that comes at him like a fucking semi without brakes. And the driver? Well, fuck–that’s you. 

Warnings: nsfw content; Eddie’s POV & very Eddie focused, Eddie’s in heat, lust drunk, werewolf-in-heat stuff, breeding kink lite (he doesn’t fully realize that he’s in heat), eddie’s confused but trying his best, jealous!eddie, possessive!eddie (he repeatedly refers to the reader as his), marking, some biting, nipple stim, clit stim, fingering, rough & hard & animalistic sex, car/van sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, eddie cums (buckets) in the reader and cums multiple times, creampie, some overstimulation, soft!eddie peeks out here and there 

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: And what if we went with some werewolf!Eddie content on this here Valentine’s Day? Hope you like this nonsense piece :D Happy Valentine’s Day!! (Also Eddie drives a 1986 Chevrolet G20 in this fic.)

He tried. He tried so hard to keep himself together. He sat there in silence, leg bouncing beneath the table, eyes torn away from you every time he found them drawn right on back. He tried. He’d never experienced it before then. After the bite, yeah–okay, things had been exceptionally different. But this? Jesus Christ. He’d never experienced the clawing, painful draw before. It was like someone injected a liquid netting beneath his skin and braided it together with his literal being, and the second you rolled up to the restaurant, that netting was tightened. 

Then you had to go and take your coat off, and that damn dress you wore?

Eddie put his hand on his knee to get it to stop bouncing. It didn’t. He was on drink number three that wasn’t doing shit to help. He was stuck there seated across from you, smelling that perfume you wore just a spritz of, and every time the vent above you kicked in and brought more to him, he was a moment closer to losing his mind. Didn’t matter how many times he asked himself what the fuck is happening? It was happening. 

And he was rock hard in his pants from the second he saw you, and it was a worsening rush every time you even glanced at him. Subconsciously, consciously, with a smile, or just a blink. Dealing with the bite had been hell alone, but this? He was deep in the circles, and there was no reach to get out.

Flushed with heat, a light sheen of sweat making his clothes sticky, he lasted as long as he could. He tried. He really, really fucking tried. And you were there with a new friend who was obviously interested in you. And you looked so nice in your dress. So fucking nice. 

It was your lean over the table to snag one of his untouched fries with a playful smile. That did him in. His breathing was getting too quick and his cock was straining painfully in his jeans. Nope. Fuck it. He was out of the booth in the next second, grateful he took the outside spot, and then he was gone. Didn't matter if someone said his name. He dropped a twenty on the table and just booked it. 

He thought he was going to change at first. The rush of endorphins, the shaking, the incoherent thoughts he couldn't capture, the rise in body temperature. He dropped his forehead against the cold metal of his van, trembling uncontrollably, feeling a drop of sweat follow the curve of his spine. Damn it. He ripped his coat off and tossed it over the hood. His keys jingled as he fumbled with them, trying to get the side door open to at least get some of his valuables tucked away before the change. 

But it was like a threshold was reached. It was a pushed line that had him panting, aching, ready to scream and howl. But that agonizing, bone-splintering pain never came. The moon wasn’t full–that should’ve been his giveaway. But still, he scratched the paint getting the key in the lock, and he damn near broke it in half trying to get it out. The growls, the rush of strength he couldn’t fight, he sincerely thought he was about to be in a whole different agony. 

He threw his jacket into the back. Then pulled at his shirt. The white shirt wasn't coming off fast enough. He was ready to rip through the sweaty cotton as he burned. It was like that netting had risen in temperature, rushing through him with a voltage striking and hot. Molten, piercing through his nerves and making the blood rush south. It was soothing when he took deeper breaths. 

Wait.

He dropped the stretch material, his bangs sticking to his forehead, and leaned against the side of his van. The passenger door was cool through the shirt. Cool and nice and deeper breaths brought more relief. Not full, but more. Filling his lungs, his fists began to relax. His shoulders fell. And he blinked heavy blinks down past his belt.

He was still hard. Painfully. The throbbing really kicked in as he looked at the bulge in his jeans. It didn’t make any sense. Yeah, alright, after the change, he had better senses, and his body underwent some weird changes. After he jerked off the first time, it was like he tasted heaven. But the lead-up to it hadn’t been…this. He hadn’t been pushing against his belt and boxers like he’d been injected with something. And he damn well hadn’t taken anything or had anything slipped into his drink or food. No fucking way.

One of the perks. He might’ve been a shithead, but he would’ve noticed if anyone there had suddenly swapped personalities and tried to mess with him.

This wasn't that. Fuck no it wasn't. It was something else. The similar symptoms–yeah, he was certain it had to do with the bite scar on his shoulder. Everything always had to fucking do with that lately. And like when he changed, the deep breaths were helping, but beyond that, his head was starting to clear.

Alright. He took another deep breath. Okay. Fucking hell. Alright. Another deep breath. Then another. He fished a cigarette out of his front pocket and, with a slippery grasp, he lit it. Okay. He nodded to himself. Okay, fuck. Just…. 

Pull it together. He dropped his hand, blowing out the long exhale of smoke, and nodded to himself. His other hand went up and pushed his hair back, forehead slick with that sheen of sweat, and gross–he felt gross. Hot and gross and sticky and hot. So hot. Burning hot. 

He looked down at his lap again. His cock still straining. The rushing blood was making his head spin. For fuck’s sake. It wasn’t going down. It wasn’t stopping. It just kept throbbing. And aching. And…and….

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

It was like someone tased him. The fucking jolt to his senses was painful when he smelt your perfume. Couldn’t see you. Couldn’t hear the clacking of your heels yet. But he could smell you, and he put the cigarette out in the center of his palm on accident as his fist formed tight and unforgivingly. He didn’t even feel the pain. The cigarette crumpled to the ground as he shuddered, growling into the night air, and both hands went back to steady him. One on the car just inside on his left and the other on the side of the opened door. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. 

His head fell forward and then back. That tasering sensation came through again and it was accentuated by the sound of your heels on the parking lot. Every quick step, and he…fucking hell. His pulse raced as he could fucking picture your mouth parting to shout his name. You didn’t have to–he was damn certain he’d hear you whisper it from across the lot. He sure as hell felt it like a molten touch on his stomach. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He started to bend the damn inner material of the car. He couldn’t do it. Holy hell. No, he couldn’t. He tried to climb in so he could at least hide from you, but he couldn’t move. His cock throbbed and his head spun. The air was a humid heat around him, and the sweat was back. Thick and coating him in a way that felt like it was beneath his skin.

He heaved a deep, desperate breath, and that only brought more of you. 

So much of you.

Christ. He’d never…. You were you. 

And you were there, running up to the side of his car, breathing quickly and sputtering out his name in desperate concern. Fuck. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t look at you. He even tried to push himself away again as your feet brought you right up to him, and your hands were a wonderful, searing cold on his chest and his arm. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?” you asked, the worry in your voice like a drug. Why the hell were you so worried about him? He took another deep breath, and right there, with you right fucking there…. He leaned in and dropped his arms as you pressed yourself against his side. You held him upright, plastering yourself to him in that skin-tight dress. The perfect red. The perfect cut. A little pearl necklace hung down and had given your friend how many excuses to look at your chest? “Eddie, shit. You’re burning up. Um. Crap. Crap. Get in, okay? We have to get you to the emergency room like now.”

He could feel your heartbeat in his own. Every hard thump making his head spin faster and faster. He felt every breath you took against him, your chest pressing harder and harder as you wrangled him into the back seat. Chest to chest, something gave in, and he fell. Slumping like a hypnotized man with his eyes fluttering open to look at you. Over him. Leaning into the car with both hands on his knees, chest still heaving.

He couldn’t speak.

You said his name again, a heat in you he could sense deep in your chest even as you reached up. Even as you used such a gentle touch to cup his cheek. That worry in your eyes was intoxicating. He tore at the side of the seat as you blinked, waiting desperately for a response. Something that said he wasn’t fucking lost somewhere else.

But he was.

He was trying really, really fucking hard not to lose himself to that last animalistic instinct. 

"Okay," you nodded nervously. You buckled him in, and the press of the seatbelt was agony. He damn near ripped it off, but you were still there. You were taking his keys from their chain. Your eyes snagged on his lap, and there was no pretending you hadn't seen anything. Your breath hitched in the slightest lingering, and Eddie…. Hell. 

He tensed every muscle in himself just to be able to fucking grunt out a few words.

“I’m fine,” he said, bringing a hand to yours to try and take his keys. His eyes clamped shut as he shook his head. “I just…it’s nothing. ‘Kay?”

He didn’t believe himself. Hard to when his hand wrapped around yours, and it felt like home. He couldn’t even bring himself to snatch the keys away. Try. He sat forward, stopped by the seatbelt, and cursed with a growl. 

He could sense every hair on you standing on edge.

“You don’t look fine, Eds,” you whispered. 

Fuck no. Not once. Not fucking once. No. Not one fucking time had he ever heard you shorten his name, and his body felt like it'd been struck by lightning. Did he fucking enjoy the little connection that always flashed in your eyes every time you called him that? Yeah. But this was really, really fucking different. Jesus Christ. His shoulders slumped as he found your eyes. Your pretty, worried eyes. 

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. 

He had the sense to keep screaming that at himself. 

"Your boyfriend's back there waiting on you,” he breathed. Seethed, really. His new impatience and adrenaline were mixing with something else he really wasn’t interested in tapping into. “Shouldn’t fucking keep him.”

Your frown was something special. Seeing your mouth form it was torment. His hands twitched to move up closer to it, but he kept them where they were. Including still on your hand. Though, the second those words left him, your hand fell. You’d won, too. His keys were in your hand.

“He’s not….” You shoved his shoulder. Tried to shove him. But he didn’t budge. You went still, breath hitching, eyeing him as he sat there, eyes glued to you in a fierce heat, checking over him again. “What the fuck did you take, Eddie?”

He cracked a smile. Don’t. “Nothing,” he answered. 

Don’t. The slight tension in your upper body brought his eyes over your throat and your shoulders, bare beneath that jacket cause of the damn tiny straps on the dress. His cock ached and pressed painfully against his zipper.

“Bullshit,” you stepped back and flicked your eyes over him. “I’m taking you to the hospital, and when you’re sober, you can stop being an ass.”

Fuck, no. No.

He started to reach to stop you, but he was slowed in his current state. You got the door shut before he could stop you. And he could’ve opened it. He could’ve gotten out and left. But you would’ve chased him down, and that would’ve required more physical contact. He couldn’t survive that. He knew damn well another touch from you would somehow make him explode.

But he hadn’t thought too far ahead.

It hit him as you backed out of the spot and pulled onto the main road.

Overwhelmed being trapped in an enclosed space with you was one thing. There wasn’t a breath he could take without you being on it. But you were trying to take him to the hospital. No. Fuck. Fuck.

“No hospital,” he barked, leaning back in the seat and pressing his head back.

“Are you kidding me? Ed–”

“No, I need you to fucking listen to me.” He clamped his eyes shut. He was wheezing a little. The line was being pushed. It wasn’t holding. Every breath, every look at you–every look was at you. He couldn’t look elsewhere. Everything was just you, and he was going mad. "You can't take me to a hospital. Just…pull over."

You laughed, and were it not so taken aback sounding, he might've lost himself in it gracefully. But it was grating. He wanted to pull his shirt off with how it rubbed against him wrong.

“I’m not pulling over. Are you kidding me? You’re clearly on something, and you’re burning up. I’m taking you to the doctor. Sorry that I don’t want you to fucking die.”

The car rolled to a stop at a stop sign. The road was empty. 

The line was pushed. The line was snapped. He didn’t bother unbuckling the seatbelt. It tore clean through the yank he gave it, and you yelped even before he came up behind you. You…. There. You were there. Right there. In a blink, your cheek was against his. Warm and soft and intoxicating. He stalled, his hand reaching forward and pressing against yours. 

Jesus….

The line….

He never knew hunger like he did right then. And he didn’t even think he had it in him as he shoved the car into park and jerked the keys out of the ignition. You were still beside him for that moment. And when the car cut off, when he started to lean back and throw his door open, you were back to your reality. 

Fresh air hit him for only a second. It was a blissful second before you were in front of him, hands on his shoulders as his feet hit the ground, and it was a standoff. A dangerous standoff that brought you face to face, and Eddie…. Don’t. He tried. He really, really, really fucking tried. He thrashed about inside just before that last semblance of coherence faded into the obscurity of the hunger pummeling through him.

Every attempt to push him back into the van just made it worse. Every breath you pushed out with every shove. The soft grunts you made as you tried and tried and tried. The quiet whine that joined your fingers trying to claw the keys out of his hand. He hit the wall, and his control was a piece of chalk in his hand.

Your heels slipped on the rocky edge of the road, and you fell against him, both hands on his chest. Could you feel his heart? He could feel yours. And it was racing rapidly as you stood against him, chest to chest, breathing him in as he breathed in you.

“Go back to the fucking restaurant,” he breathed. The position…. Christ. It brought your cheek just in front of his mouth. He was agonizingly aware that you hadn’t stepped away from him yet. “Please. I didn’t take anything. I’ll be fine, but only if you just go the fuck away.”

The soft slumping was torture. His cruelty wasn’t intentional, but his desperation was driving him. You had both hands on his chest then, the touch softening in the worst way. And your breathing…shifted. Lost its rhythm. Wrong. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And you nodded once. Defeated. So damned defeated.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Fine.”

No. He couldn’t. The hurt in your voice. The pain. You didn’t even get to start your step back before his arm was around your waist. He wasn’t going to let go. He knew it the fucking second he pulled you flat against him. It was right. It was stroking that hunger to a degree that was blinding. And he damn well actually considered thanking some godly being when he felt the immediate shift. Not anger. Not betrayal. Not disgust. Not fear. Any of those, and he would’ve torn his own arm off if he had to. But no. No, no. As he fell head first into that deplorable hunger, there was the quickening of your heartbeat, the rising heat that made your breathing increase with a steady, shuddering rhythm. The drop of your eyes to his mouth as his opened to find yours. And your fingers wrinkled his shirt as you planted them on his chest. 

“Eds?” you whispered.

He tried. He really, really tried.

But his keys were a loud thud on the car floor. 

He cupped the back of your head and brought his mouth to yours. 

He really tried.

You met him. As little time as you had to react, you leaned in as much as you could. The world was gone. The taste of you, the plush feel of your lips, that soft, wanting sound that fell from you that made no fucking sense–there was just animal instinct left. The night became alight and full shadows all at once. Nothing, nothing, nothing could’ve pulled him back from you except for you.

Melding against you, the kiss never having a moment to even be anything chaste, he burned. A lit fuse tearing through him, even he couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t satiate anything when it just kept growing.

The press of your body to his, the feel of your waist in his hands, the soft sighs from your lips, the taste of you on his tongue, your ass in his hands as he squeezed– He growled against your mouth. Your dress rode up as he kneaded your ass, wrinkling the material he knew was way too fucking expensive. 

“Eds,” you whimpered. 

The sound…the sweet, breathy sound.

Something snapped.

Something deep, something beastly. He slammed both hands out, gripping his van, shuddering out his next breath. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he breathed. Deep, hungry breaths. He itched beneath his skin in a way that felt like it could never be satiated. 

“Get in,” he breathed, taking in the taste of you on his tongue, your skin soft and warm and you tasted so sweet. “Or go back.”

It was the only words he could choke out. They burned in the air at the edges like steel wool. Sparks erupted as your head fell back, your hands still on his shirt, pulling what was left in that elasticity. Your body curved to stay against his, but in your lean, he had to return to you. Had to hold you. Had to keep you upright as your knees buckled.

He couldn’t help himself. His teeth were a sharp draw over your throat. 

You shuddered in his arms.

“In,” you sputtered. “In, Eds.”

Like a collar had been removed, everything heightened. He pulled you in, eliciting a small yelp in the process, and slammed his door shut. In the shadows, everything became newly alight. 

His growl was low and filled the space predatorily. 

His restraint broke.

The sounds you made were heavenly. It was blinding need coursing through him. You–you were the centerpoint. The pinpoint. The light at the end of the tunnel and the very reason the tunnel was there in the first place. You, you, and so effortlessly and all-consumingly–you. 

He felt it, and he felt you. How the world became color again. There was no immediate relief, no. But the escalation, the bared skin, the whines and the whimpers and the sounds that fell from both of you…. His mind was blank in the expedited, intoxicating hunger. A puppet master and the puppet all in one. 

He fell.

His fingers splayed wet on the back of your neck. Twice. He recalled that briefly. He felt you cum twice around his fingers after you shoved your underwear aside for him. Kneeling against the thick seat, face against the headrest, fingers clawing at the sides, he felt how wet you were for him. Before he’d even touched you. Your underwear soaked–a want he hadn’t even realized he could fucking smell on you. And when it clicked, as he pressed two fingers into you and unzipped the back of your dress just enough to bare your chest, he was driven by you. Pumped his fingers rough and deep, finding that spot that had you near screaming, holding you by your shoulder as your whole body moved with him.

Twice. That’s all he could wait.

Then those wet fingers ran over your cunt as he unbuckled his belt. The relief, the immediate relief was wrong. He felt thick and huge, and the ache, the throbbing–it wasn't stopping. He needed to be inside of you. Needed to feel you. Needed to fill you. And his thoughts glazed over as you pushed your hips back, panting and whining as you brought yourself to his tip.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in. 

There was no other place he was supposed to be. There was no other feeling in the world as fucking insane as that. Euphoric–fucking maddeningly euphoric. He pushed in, feeling your cunt flutter as you took him. He was a lot–more than he should’ve been–but there was no stopping to make sense of what he couldn’t. You were gasping against the headrest, wrapping your arms around it in a needy embrace, whining his name like a fucking performance just for him.

And the next sound out of him was more beastly than when he turned on full moons.

Balls deep, feeling you shudder as something locked him in place, his moan was edged with a growl. Deep from his chest, it fell over the van, and you…he felt you clench. And you clenched hard.

Like two puzzle pieces clicked together–it made sense. His head fell back, and a new sensation tightened in his balls. Made sense. He tightened his grip on your neck exponentially. Yes. He burned. He fucking burned like kerosene. Burned in his bones, in his soul, in the mark on his shoulder searing the ugly fangs into him. His balls hurt and he grabbed you by your hip, the dress tearing under his tightening grasp and sharpening nails.

You.

He pulled back until just his tip stayed in.

You. You. You.

He rutted forward and the whole van moved. 

You. 

You moaned hard against the seat, his name a stutter as his hips reared back and he rutted forward again. Again. Again. Again. Gaining speed, gaining strength, gaining a rough edge that had you sobbing as you began to clench around him. You. 

You. You. You. 

Damn it–you.

The tunnel honed in harder on you. He could see you in the dark, even without the moonlight creeping in. How your back arched, how your dress tore beneath his hands and stretched from yours as you pulled it up more and more. How you managed to look back at him, tears in your eyes, teeth on your lip, thighs trembling as he fucked you harder, body jolting with every thrust as you began to shake. Your chest pressed against the seat, and he ached to feel them, to see them, to have them.

You. He had to have you. Had to. You were his.

Like that.

As he reached around and took you by the front of your throat, pulling you back until you were on your knees taking him, pressing your mouth to his jaw and sputtering his name…. His mouth watered as he looked down at you. The endless sounds you made, the bounce of your tits and your nipples in peaks…. He brought your mouth to his as he closed his hand tighter, and his other went lower.

His. His. He snarled into the kiss like the beast he was, and he brushed his fingers over your clit without reprieve. 

“More,” he breathed into the kiss. 

He knew you could cum again. Could feel it. Needed to feel it. 

Like he’d given you a fucking command, the second his fingers found a steady rhythm, you were falling apart on his cock. Drenching it as he rutted so deep, he was hitting places in you he damn well knew nobody else ever had. The fucking guy you’d brought with you never would. No. A searing rage flickered in a glimpse. You screamed his name as he kept his fingers on your clit, and your cunt stayed clenched. 

His. You were his. His. He nipped at your jaw. His. His. His. 

You were Eddie’s. Just Eddie’s. Just like that–you were his. 

His balls tightened. His cock twitched. You choked on a moan as you came again, writhing atop his cock as he gave you no reprieve from the last climax before that one. And the harsh fluttering, the sweet warmth of you, your scent, your taste, your everything. He pressed his hand against your lower belly where his cock was taking you as his, and he saw white. White-hot. Searing, unforgettable ecstasy–the netting inside of him released just a little, and his eyes clamped shut. 

You both fell forward as he came inside of you, not able to even attempt pulling out, and it…. It felt…. He kept his tight embrace, thrusting hard as you both grunted. It wasn’t ending. It came, it peaked, and he spilled deep inside of you, but he couldn’t stop. He kissed your shoulder as he scrambled, the clinking of his belt echoing in the van, and he kept going. 

More.

Your whines grew. You clenched around him again.

“More, fuck.” He held you close, thrusting just as hard as before. Continuing. Continuing. Continuing. The loud squelching of every thrust joined the symphony of your sounds. “Fuck, you feel fucking perfect.”

Harder. Deeper. He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t stop. Mind drowning as his body was dragged under. Your body moved with his, and he brought a hand to your chest. Rolling your nipple between his fingers, tweaking, tugging, feeling your dress stick to you as your bodies stayed together….

He couldn’t think. Just felt. Just felt. Just felt you. You, you, you. Just felt you. 

His–you were his.

His. Only his.

He brought his mouth to your neck and found a tender spot. The perfect tender spot. The tender spot that made you flutter around him and whine. His. He’d mark you. His. His. His. He kissed lower, dragging his teeth without breaking skin, then kissed the tender spot, drawing a hickey over it next. Then, on your shoulder. Then along it, toward the back. 

His. His. 

His balls tightened as you whined his name.

He dropped his hand and found your clit again. The white-hot feeling rushed him again. His. You. You were his. Only his. And his world erupted again. Again, he came. Hips pressed flat against your ass, he spilled inside of you, his entire body shaking, the sensation hot and euphoric. His eyes rolled back yet still. You both collapsed on the floor, Eddie barely catching the both of you, and he hugged you. Kept you embraced against him.

His balls still ached.

How? There was little coherence, but there was enough. He panted next to your ear as he hooked his arm under your leg, lifting it and locking it up. His body moved on desperation, on hunger. He couldn't pull out of you even if he'd tried. You. You. You full of him. He used his right arm as a pillow under your head and his left to keep your leg locked open. That hand found your clit, and all it took was his thrusts. He couldn’t stop. Your bodies jerked as he fucked you faster, the lingering sensation lingering. His balls throbbed and tightened–it wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t. He couldn’t stop.

He needed you. Needed to cum in you. Needed to cum in you until there was nothing left to give you. You. Just you. Only you. 

"Little more," he croaked out by your ear. "Please. Fuck. Just a little more. Fuck.”

He could feel his cheeks flushing. Sweat trickled down his temple. He rubbed your clit as you arched into him, nodding frantically. Like you felt it, too. Fuck. Could you? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t do anything except look down at you like you were sculpted by the gods. Couldn’t do anything but thrust into you and feel you, want you, need you. A hunger growing as he watched you take it. Deep thrusts jerking the car. You. Your head back against him as you began to shake again. 

You took him so well. You came so hard. And you still wanted. His body cinched in ecstasy as he saw the mess between your thighs, at the waste–waste. His body jolted and he rutted deep and stayed deep, switching to frantic thrusts, rubbing your clit a little faster and feeling you shudder as you screamed for him.

He came again.

And then again.

And then one last time.

On the floor of his van, the two of you intertwined, his cum leaking out of you. Panting. You limp and shaking. Sweaty. He kissed your shoulder as the slightest bit of coherence came to. As he looked down at you in your ruined dress, resting softly, eyes cracking to look up at him sleepily yet softly. 

His.

He reached over you and cupped your jaw. Still inside of you, bodies sticky and sweaty, he brought your mouth to his. The kiss was slow and deep. He couldn’t even joke about the line crossed for he’d obliterated it. It was dust lost on the floor where your bodies came together. Cause there was no going back–no. Not even if you both could pretend this hadn’t happened. Fuck no. No. As you smiled into the kiss, as you murmured his name on that soft, strained, sweet voice of yours, you were his. Like someone had tattooed you in his damn self.

His.

He deepened the kiss, the taste of you so damn addicting. 

But you put a hand on his cheek and pushed him back just a little, and he reeled back the rest of the way. He waited, his heart lurching in sudden fear. Pain. Worry. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked abruptly, cutting you off before you even parted your pretty mouth to speak. His voice was rough and raw. Just as yours was, and you were the one who’d been screaming the entire time to the point where he had to cover your mouth. 

“No,” you said with a crooked smile. “I mean, I’m not going to be able to sit down for like a week, but, Eds….” You leaned back. His heart stilled. Your fingers ran over the edge of that damn scar, barely visible where his stretched shirt collar fell to the side. “I need you to tell me what’s going on with you. Cause this…? We just….”

He watched your throat bob. Your smile turned wry.

His. His body began to burn with that deep voltage again. That caged netting. His balls tightened and ached. Nothing was making sense, and you seemed to know that. But when he smelled you, when he felt you, when you just looked at him, he was driven mad.

“It’s a long fucking story,” he breathed.

And you nodded once.

“It’s a long drive back to my apartment.”

His.

His hands itched, and he just slowly nodded. Yeah. He felt you flutter around him as his hips moved on their own, thrusting gently and shallowly into you. Another mess made as your eyes fluttered shut, and he held you close, keeping with those shallow thrusts even if his body screamed to fuck you as hard as he had before.

His. 

He kissed your temple, shuddering as his climax rushed him quickly that time. 

It turned into a deep groan as he spilled inside of you. Again.

You were…his. 

He kissed your temple as his hips came to a standstill, and you sighed happily.

Guess…guess he had to tell you. 

“‘Kay but…” he murmured, flicking his tongue against the shell of your ear. 

You shuddered again and whined. He started to thrust into you again, just as slowly, just as gently. 

“I need to. One more time. Fucking…. Please.” He nuzzled the side of your head. “It’s killing me. Fuck. I don’t even know why, but you’re fucking maddening. I just…one more.”

You were already nodding. Jesus Christ. You were nodding gently and with a smile. 

His.

He hugged you close and didn’t let go.

Fucking hell. Whatever was happening to him made no sense, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't fight it. He tried so hard to keep the line from breaking, and now he was in balls deep. And you were fucking his. 

He just…had to find the right way to explain that to you.

He peered down and watched his cock rut into you. 

After.

He bit down on your shoulder as his body tensed and pleasure pummeled through his veins. 

You were his. 

He came again, cock deep and body finally relaxing.

Good.

All felt right. You felt right. All felt fucking perfect.

You stayed like that as the minutes ticked by. Together. Perfect. So fucking perfect. And he finally fucking knew relief. 

Now he just had to hope you understood the nonsense he was about to tell you and that the sensation never fucking came back. If it did, and he had to be around you again like nothing had happened….

Another layer of hell would be welcoming him in.

But it…it wasn’t going to happen again. Yeah. He was fine. It was a total fluke. 

He smiled as you both relaxed, breathing easily and just staying tangled together.

Yeah.

He basked in you as the ache began to fade into a soft, tingling warmth.

It was just a fluke.

[pretty-batty]

women keep coming up to me giggling and blushing and running their finger along the edge of my mighty greatsword like STOP theres literally evil afoot

[pretty-batty]

Eddie Munson is a stage 5 clinger and I stand by this.

If he could live in your skin he would. Every 11:11 he makes a wish that some morally grey sorcerer stumbles into Hawkins and curses him to be 3 inches tall, that way he can live in your pocket forever. Every 11:11, I’m not kidding.

Good luck getting up to go to the bathroom after sex. You're gonna have to start hitting the gym so you can carry the weight of him on your back, he's gonna go full koala mode on you.

God forbid you hang up the phone before he gets a chance to tell you he loves you five times in a row, he's dropping what he's doing and coming over to say it to your face.

"Ughhhh, I wish I could live inside your skin. I'd take your skin for little walks and always put on sunscreen. I hate sunscreen because it gets all streaky, but I'd do it just to protect you. Or should I say protect my new home? I'd take such good care of your skin baby. Oh! I'd make you say dumb things in public, that'd be so funny and everybody would be like, 'What the shit?' And it's just me, but no one knows. Ah the good life..."

"You're so fucking weird, Eddie. If I didn't love you so much I'd report you to the cops for that little speech."

Yeah, he's a stage 5 clinger and it's terminal.

[pretty-batty]

howling for you - pt three

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Eddie’s POV

pt one - pt two

Synopsis: After that morning at your place, things between you and Eddie are different. A good kind of different that he can’t really explain. It’s still unspoken, but it’s there. And it fucking makes things so much worse. Just thinking of you…. When the two of you go to the movies with your friends and he has to sit there without you? Without touching you? Without tasting you? He’s driven mad. 

Warnings: slight fluff, nsfw/18+ content; porn with a hint of a plot; Eddie's POV; breeding kink, Eddie’s in heat & a little obsessive, lust drunk, insane blue balls, situationship+/friends just helping friends, possessive!eddie, reader’s mentioned to have borrowed one of eddie’s shirts once (but there’s no physical descriptions applied), dirty thoughts, reader sucks on eddie’s fingers, desperate public masturbation (eddie in the movie theater bathroom), fingering, clit stim, public sex (behind a building), rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, having to hold cum in, multiple orgasms, desperately humping (the air), oral (eddie receiving), handcuffs, UTIs do not exist in this universe

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: ... I wrote more. I wanna write more on this with a direct continuation and some more fluffy moments. Let me know if y'all would like a little more :) Happy reading!!

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sputtered against your ear. “Fuck.”

It was getting worse. It was a slow realization despite it being rather obvious. He couldn't be around you more often than not without losing his mind. He couldn't fucking comprehend it. Either he was near you, and he wanted you by him, hand in his, bodies together–just touching in any intimate way–or he wanted to be inside of you. 

There was some in between--when he wasn't in heat and he'd just finished the full moon days. He didn't crave you like he'd die without you. He didn't sit strained in his jeans at just the thought of you. He missed you if he didn't see you, and he'd find himself hanging out with you more often than not, but you would just be together. Eating, watching a movie, going to the park to fuck around with friends, you even watched Corroded Coffin practice.

He felt like a human again on those days.

But then it was back. Full throttle. 

The itching, unbearable need to have you. To mark you. To make sure everyone fucking knew that you were his. It’d been weeks, and he could still feel the rush of fury from the morning after the party. He’d never wanted to actually kill someone before. It would’ve been a little terrifying if he hadn’t been so captured by you then. 

It hit him when he inevitably had to leave–you did have shit to do, and he wasn't going to keep you from it any longer. Besides, there was this unsaid understanding after that. The hours that ticked by where you two were just…together. Kissing. Christ, it was way fucking more than kissing. But technically, that's all you did. You just…kissed until it was sloppy, and he couldn't shut your alarm up anymore.

“See yah later?” he’d asked when you had to get up. He helped you up, somehow a fucking miracle granted that he was even stable on his feet. 

Your mouth curved into a smile that carved the damn sun into his chest. 

“I’d hope so,” you’d mused. 

And he was way more fucking done for than he’d initially thought. 

That smile–that damned smile. He cursed all over again. Couldn’t close his eyes without seeing it. Couldn’t even focus on his music or get enough focus to work on the campaign. Couldn’t do shit. You–it was just you. An obsession, a study, a fantasy of reality in you.

You'd locked a collar around his throat, and the leash never went taut. 

That was exactly how the two of you ended up there. 

His fingers in your mouth as you sucked on them without him fucking asking, his cock buried in your cunt, his arm cushioning you against the brick wall. Your friends were inside. You were supposed to be meeting them for a fucking movie. That movie started in a short fifteen minutes, and…and Eddie had picked you up to try and…to try and just have what he fucking knew was there. That sunshine….

But then you had to go and laugh at something he said while you were wearing a goddamn pretty dress. He didn’t even…there wasn’t time. He tried to walk a few steps away from you as you went toward the theater, the parking full out front so he pulled around to the back. But it hurt to walk. It hurt to look at you. He was sweating again, and he had to stop. He leaned against the back of the building, and when you glanced back, you knew. You fucking knew–Christ. You gave him a knowing look, a knowing smile, and just…. You fucking came up to him, cupped his cheek, and with only a little bit of hesitation, kissed him.

Yeah, he wasn’t surviving the movie.

You tasted yourself on his fingers as he started to thrust them into your mouth in time with his hips. You already dripped down your thighs from your first climax. He’d pulled your underwear aside and promised you it’d be quick–you wouldn’t be late for the movie. He fucking promised. He just needed a quick bit of relief.

You came quick, so fucking quick for him, and then he was inside of you fucking you relentlessly. Drilling into you until you were holding your head back so your tears wouldn’t ruin any makeup, still sucking on his fingers. 

His.

He pushed you both up to the tips of your toes, barely hidden under the night’s shadows and some bushes that went around the back. Quick. He knew quick. He could do quick. He buried his face in your neck and bit down where your dress gave way to a bit of skin he hoped would be covered after. Quick. He bit down without piercing, feeling how your body vibrated on a moan, and his balls tightened. He could do quick. With you? You could put your hand on his cock while he was in heat, and he’d cum. He’d mourn the mess since it wouldn’t be inside of you, but, fuck, would he cum hard.

The problem wasn’t quick.

Your dress scraped against the brick a little. The front was pushed down, and he could see your chest press against his arm and the wall as he pinned you harder. He missed your tits. He still thought about how you stirred asleep, mouth parting, whining so fucking softly as he played with them. He never fucking got to. So fucking focused on getting his cock in you, he never….

Fuck.

His vision went dark. His eyes slammed shut.

It wasn’t a problem of quick.

He was there already. Shuddering as he suddenly pounded into you harder. Hard enough that new tears pricked, and you shuddered over him. Another climax rushing toward you. He felt your cunt spasm around him as you took every deep thrust, loudly moaning around his fingers for him–for him. Because of him. He brought his hand down and rubbed your clit. Frantic, desperate movement guided him until he couldn't think any longer. Blinded by the rush of euphoria, he rutted deep into you, and that was it. That was his one time.

He pressed his mouth against the back of your head. Snarling as he came hard and deep, his cock still slamming into you to milk every drop. You shuddered, starting to vibrate as you took every thrust. As his fingers rubbed your fucking perfect clit and you gushed over him, damn near close to screaming for him.

That was it. That was his one. 

  He felt a rush of heat across his cheeks knowing he was out of time. The movie started soon. You were out in the fucking open where anyone could see or hear you. But he needed more. One wasn’t enough–not with you. He felt your cunt spasm around him, full of just one. Just one load. It wasn’t fucking enough. Not nearly. Not fucking nearly. 

But he couldn't have it, though. He just…he just had the one, and…and you clenched as he pulled out. 

Oh, fucking hell. Christ.

You whined around his fingers and continued to clench, holding it in. And he….

The heat inside of him was fierce. 

He trembled as he stepped forward, in a whole new category with you as he pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth. You were still holding it in for him. Even there. And without him asking….

Goosebumps prickled at the next idea. 

His other hand reached under your dress and tugged your underwear back over your sopping cunt. Your eyes widened a little as he pushed his fingers in deeper into your mouth, and, at the same time, he cupped your cunt.

“Hold it for me,” he said. Half a question if you’d be willing to indulge him. Half a desperate plea. He needed you to do it. The thought alone made his cock twitch and throb. But the idea that you could…. Christ. He needed to fuck you more. “Just until we get inside.”

He pulled his fingers out and found your gaze. It was hazy from climaxing and bright with that fucking eagerness and selflessness that drove him mad. You licked your lips as his fingers fell, clearly thinking his words over with a striking pause. Your mouth looked really fucking kissable, and it was mind-shatteringly unfair. 

And then you did the best and worst possible thing you could’ve. You nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed, a little dangerous smile joining it. 

Oh, fuck. Eddie felt the world burn. It was ash in his lung, on his skin, all around the two of you. A drop of sweat went down his spine while he buckled his belt and readjusted your dress for you. A possessive hand went on the back of your neck, and you leaned into it, checking that your legs weren’t jello as he stepped back. 

His other hand went to your lower back, and he could feel you fucking tensing to keep his cum in. Really, really fucking focused on it, too. 

Jesus Christ.

He bunched your dress up in his hand and leaned in, stealing a kiss against your jaw. The sigh you gave was heart-stopping. He’d been slowly trying to add in more little moments like that, stealing them just to see. Just to make sure everything was still like that. 

Your sigh, your lean into him–it was. 

You were still fucking his.

“I’m not gonna fucking last,” he murmured. “Goddamn it.”

You reached up and gave his cheek an almost condescending pat. You had the fucking leeway to be comedic about it. You could joke about the fucking agony he was in cause you didn’t know how much his balls already started to hurt. And you cracked a slightly mocking grin while finding a sturdiness on your feet.

“It’s one movie. You can survive that, can’t you?”

That tone–that dangerous fucking tone. Not an ounce of sweetness in it, and–fucking hell–Eddie wanted to drag you back to his van right then and there. Fuck you. He wanted to. He wanted to fuck you until that smile was that usual parted scream as he made you his on his cock. 

Christ.

Your hips swayed as you started off to the front of the theater before him.

He had to get his shit together. If he kept thinking like that, it'd be self-sabotage. Everyone would fucking know not just about the two of you, but his damn change. He was trying to keep that under wraps as best as possible. And your help…made it real fucking easy and real fucking hard at the same time. 

Pun not intended.

He took a deep, agonizing breath, eyes glued to your ass, and followed you to the front.

Hell was waiting for him inside, and it was marked with your fucking selflessness. 

It was a strange phenomenon. He slipped into a slight daze as he came up beside you. His steps were blurry; he could barely remember the last one he took when all he could smell was you. Barely recalled entering the theater and stealing one last brush of his hand on your lower back before your friends waved to you, giving you both shit for arriving at the last possible second. And he couldn't think of anything else except you as you branched away from you, out of his reach, out of his touch, just way too fucking far away. 

He talked; he knew he talked. He joked. He shot the shit. He smiled. Laughed. Bought popcorn and a drink. And he fucking noticed you getting caught up in conversations, buying your own concessions, arm linked with another, going back to the theater. Without going to the bathroom.

Yeah.

Yup.

He didn’t fucking hear a thing Jeff said. He just leaked steadily into his boxers with a cold sweat taking over. Ha. Haha. He stumbled into the frustratingly packed theater. Fuck. Fucking hell. He plopped down into the first seat that’d take him, Jeff, and Gareth. But it kept you away from him. Not far. Not fucking far enough. You sat in front of him. Right fucking in front of him, with that section all looking back at his with smiles. 

Your smile.

Devious and knowing whether or not you fucking intended it to be. Holy hell. He damn near tore through the shitty armrests. He wanted to fuck you over the back of the chair, everyone else there be damned. He could smell you. He could fucking smell the both of you on you. Wanted to drag his tongue over your neck and taste you. Lift you up and give you more to hold in like you were so fucking good at doing. 

It became a single point of focus. You were the only fucking thing he could focus on. That little spritz of perfume you had on. The coconut body wash he tormentingly thought about you using constantly. Your lips unkissed. Your cunt stuffed. The way you shifted because you had to not make a mess–you'd never. You'd never fucking do that on a public seat, and you damn well wouldn't risk getting caught around everyone there. So, that little tremor he caught as the previews started? You were clenching and clenching hard.

Yeah.

The lights cut out. 

Yup.

That hunger in his belly had only been stoked by the one climax. His nails felt sharp. That frustration clawed through him from the inside out. The beast snarling like it used to before he got a handle on the change. No full moon even remotely near, and he was starting to sweat through his clothes. He wasn’t watching the movie. Just staring at the screen. Just watching you in his peripherals. Every sip of your drink. Every bite of popcorn. Every little shift.

Yeah. Nope.

Fuck no. Nope. Nope. 

He went to the bathroom once–and only once. He threw himself in a stall, bit his lip, and fucking fought the agony. He stared in abject horror and pain as he freed his cock. Dropped down on the toilet, toilet paper in his other hand, he wrapped his fist around his cock and sighed at the immediate relief. It was wiped away in an instant when he jerked off, thinking of you, thinking of your cunt around him, dripping, warm, tight–and in seconds, in fucking seconds, he came. He wasted it. He fucking groaned and jerked his hips up into his fist without a fucking choice in the matter, needing that relief. And it was regret. A tsunami of it as he came inside that toilet paper.

Fuck. 

He slumped back without an inch of that relief coming his way.

Fuck. Fuck. Damn it. Jesus fucking Christ.

He dumped it in the toilet and sat back. He had the same tremble you did. His entire body just…had that slight unsteady shake. Nothing settling. Nothing relieving. Nothing working. Fuck. He itched. He hungered. He wanted to run through the forest until he was nothing but the howling instinct that was screaming in his chest. 

He peered down at his hands. His rings were twisted the wrong ways, his watch dug into his wrist a little too much, and his nails were sharp. Too sharp. Halfway between human and wolf, and just seeing it was like a shot in his veins. He damn near barked out a groan of annoyance and pushed up from the toilet. 

He cleaned himself up quickly and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Sweaty. Dripping with cold water that did fucking nothing to soothe. His shirt stuck to his back under his coat, but he damn well couldn’t take it off. So he just shoved his sleeves back, hung his head, and kept that cold water rushing over his hands until he counted to thirty.

Times up.

He trudged back to the theater with a throbbing in his cock.

An endless goddamn throbbing. 

He couldn’t do it. He was a piece of shit. A massive piece of shit. But he sat down in that dark theater, saw you shifting back and forth a little in the seat, smelled your soap, smelled you, and nope. Nope. It was torture. The kind he couldn’t even beg you to help him with. He was stuck there, stuck going to get pizza after with everyone, stuck fucking rock hard in his pants. He couldn’t fucking do it.

Through sheer desperation and that last little determination to not be a total asshole, he made it to the credits. Leaking the entire time in his boxers, his bangs sticking to his forehead, his clothing sticky with sweat, he had to bounce. He couldn’t do the rest of the night, and he wasn’t going to take that away from you. You weren’t just there for him. Fuck no you weren’t. 

The credits rolled, the lights came on, and as he fucking predicated before the haze started to get too much.... Before he found himself in the fog that drove him away from everything and settled him into the driving hunger. He had the words on the tip of his tongue as Jeff looked over at him with wide eyes and surprise.

“Woah, dude. You look like shit.”

And Eddie, cracking a sarcastic smile, just nodded.

"Yup." He leaned forward, both hands back on the armrests, and you were already looking back at him with that look that made his stomach clench hard. “I gotta fucking go. Can you catch a ride–”

“Shit, yeah, Eddie. We can take her,” Selene said beside you. 

Great. Easy. 

You were starting to stand up to say something, shifting when you damn well felt something else shift inside of you, but Eddie was already moving. Couldn’t stay. He wasn’t going to do that to you. He wasn’t going to take you away from your friends. Wasn’t going to ruin the fucking night because of this damn bullshit.

He sprinted from the theater without much more than a tap to Jeff’s shoulder and a later to Gareth, and then he was gone.

He’d never driven back to his place that fast. He ran two stop signs with luck he probably shouldn’t have had. Thought about you every fucking second. Thought about you as he fumbled with his keys. Thought about you as he shoved his shitty apartment door open. Thought about you as he slammed it shut and tore through one of his favorite shirts to get it off. Thought of you as he stripped all the way to his bathroom. As he shoved the stained shower curtain back. As he jerked the water onto cold and stepped in, a cigarette lit and his back pressed against the freezing tile. 

Freezing water rushed down his blushing body. Everything tense. Everything hard. He tipped the cigarette up away from the water, taking deep drags. His heart thundered. His hand trembled. All he could see was you. Feel you. Taste you. Want you. It was fucking worse than before. That primal hunger was back. His. You were his. You were his, and you were owning it as blatantly as you could in secret. 

His.

He closed his eyes and pressed his head back, blowing out a long breath. 

It became a shudder.

He let the water run freezing over him as he found his cock in his fist.

He didn’t move it. He just squeezed. Squeezing at least helped alleviate the throbbing. Made it worse when he released his grip, but when he closed it again, it was something. And he wasn’t losing anything in the process. Nothing but precum, and even when that hurt, it wasn’t as bad as fully climaxing.

It was a double-edged sword. Needing to cum. Not being able to without it being inside of you. Then needing to cum even more at the thought of being inside of you. Then wanting to scream because he wanted to cum so badly. Then, snarling because he couldn’t. 

He sat on the floor of his shower for too long. The water off. Shivering. Another cigarette did nothing to help. Air drying in the cold air didn’t help either. He was stuck shivering like that, hand on his cock, biting the cigarette between his teeth until it fell into the remnants of water, sizzling out.

Minutes into hours. Hours ticking by like days.

He needed relief. What the fuck was happening? He needed you. You. He fucking needed you. He needed you. Needed you. Needed you.

He slammed his head back, and the sound he made was beastly. 

The tile cracked. It was a miracle his head didn’t.

Fuck. He flattened both hands beside him. Fuck. Fuck. Your smile. Your touch. The way you leaned into his hand at the theater. The way you took his fingers in your mouth and sucked. The way you took him. How you got closer when he talked. How you hung onto every word he was saying even before. Even fucking before all of this. You were just….

Tormenting.

Pure. Fucking. Torture. He screamed. Through his teeth, his sharp nails dug into the tile and scratched. He kicked his feet out and pressed his head back again. His hips jutted up as if you were there to take him, but the air just mocked him. He clawed at nothing for you. He ached. He laughed. His hair stuck to the wall and his shoulders as he shook with laughter. Pained, strained laughter.

His rings glinted in that shitty overhead light as he lifted his hands and let them drop back down. His pick sat off-center on his chest, stuck too high up near his collarbone. His watch was still on. A leather bracelet was thick with water. And he just laughed.

“Fuck me,” he said through choked breaths. “Christ. What the fuck?”

He was pathetic. Horribly, no-good and pathetic. Everything was bullshit. He couldn’t breathe without you. Couldn’t think. Just like that night. Except this was worse. He couldn’t run over to you cause he had no clue if you were home yet. You might not even go home. You could be with everyone else ‘til after midnight. Could crash at someone else’s.

And there he was, lost in a trance that wasn’t your fault. Fucking hell.

It was pathetic. He was fucking pathetic. He couldn’t sit in the shower all night. He couldn’t waste time thinking about fucking you when he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. He had to be better than that. He fucking had to be. He just…. He….

He rolled out of the shower with a shout. Standing was hard. Grabbing the towel off the bar was hard. Getting to wrap the towel around his waist and leaning against the wall was fucking hard. His cock tented the rough material. His hands trembled as he threw the door open. And he slumped all the way to his bedroom. Onto his bed.

Sank down and–

He stilled.

You were over a week ago. Spilled some spaghetti sauce on your shirt. Borrowed one of his. That alone…he wasn’t in heat, but he’d felt a special stir in his stomach when he saw you come out in his Iron Maiden shirt. You’d stolen a spot next to him on the couch after that. A blanket over the whole thing. And he hadn’t been able to help himself–he went no further than your knee. Just a touch. And when you reached back and curled your fingers around his….

He snagged you before you left with everyone. You couldn't stay back cause then everyone would know. But he'd gone to give you your shirt back from where you'd left it in his room, and the thirty-second interaction became two minutes as he took you by your waist and pressed you against the wall behind his door. Hidden, tasting the sweet piece of chocolate you'd just had and bunching up his shirt on your waist.

It was one of those stolen moments he still fully couldn’t believe. Like morning in your room, everything culminating into tangling in your sheets naked together, just…being there. Tasting each other. Coming together bodies a mess, worn, wanting. He damn near broke your alarm. Three times.

He still woke up dreaming about that morning. Like some sappy bastard. 

And yet there he was thinking about it again cause he was thinking about kissing you in his room because he was looking at your shirt. Stained. Left by his bed cause someone called for you to hurry up. You accidentally left it. 

And it fucking smelled like you even from there.

Fuck.

He wanted it. He wanted to feel the soft material in his fingers. It still had the faint perfume left on it. Still smelled just like you.

His hands twitched.

Fucking don’t.

His cock twitched.

Don’t. Fucking–Christ, don’t.

He tore through his top gray blanket with his nails. His chest heaved. His cock leaked. 

Fucking don’t. 

He wanted to pick up your shirt, bury his nose in it, and hump his bed like you were beneath him. His eyes were glazing over. He started to tremble with a low growl in his voice. He just knew hunger. Knew that need. Knew he needed you. 

Fucking. Don’t.

And he knew the immense and intense regret that’d never leave if he wasted even a drop of cum. 

“Fucking–”

He lurched forward but not toward the shirt. His nightstand shook as he jerked the drawer open. The sound was clunky into clanking, and he jerked out the cuffs. They had backup releases he'd use when he finally got control of himself. And it wasn't like he couldn't fucking break out of them with his new strength. But they helped. They would help.

He pushed back on his bed before animal instinct took over too much. Back, back, back until he hit his thin pillows. He fumbled with the cuffs until they were wrapped tight around his headboard. Then he clamped them down tight over each wrist, locking them back as he shuddered in place, stuck staring at himself, his old TV, his cock straining in his towel.

No music, no movie, no news cycle would’ve helped. He was slowly descending into madness as he spread his legs and rocked his hips, feeling the drag of the towel against him. It was a loss he felt but maintained in that beastly consciousness. There but in that heated state. Caged and captured. Pulling on the cuffs like a collared animal. 

Deep breaths filled his lungs with that lingering scent of you. The last of the cold water dried. His towel fell open, and he pressed his head back. The cold air from the vent above him rained down in agony. His balls tightened. His cock throbbed. And he slammed his head back with a gnarly snarl.

Fuck. 

His vision blurred.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He writhed and let out a choked howl.

Fucking hell.

He was gone.

He was lost in the madness without you there. He missed you. He missed you. He missed you. He fucking missed you.

And he was left like a chained beast in his bed, humping the air and whining for you, with the minutes ticking by like endless hours.

Over. Over. Over. Over.

Countless thoughts barely permeating the fog of hunger. He burned. He pined. He whimpered with a blushing heat across his cheeks. He humped the air like it did anything except remind him of the nothing on him. You. You. You. You and that smile. That laugh. That attention you gave him so selflessly. 

You. You. You. 

You.

Drowning in you.

Fucking you.

You–

Hours. Midnight.

His balls ached painfully. The cuffs dug into his wrists. He was no closer to satiating the beast than he was before. Farther from it, actually. But he’d grown more still. He didn’t writhe or hump anymore. He lay there in agonizing defeat, breathing through his teeth. The night lost to the dribble of precum on his happy trail. 

Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost.

Lost. 

He lolled his head back and shut his eyes.

Lost….

Every hair on his body stood on edge. Jingling. The softest jingling confirmed what became the second sniff of many. The perfume in the shirt was there. Was stronger. Suddenly. Suddenly there. He writhed in the cuffs, struggling to do anything but feel his heart pound. And he was going to rip out of his chest as he stared at his door ajar. 

He couldn’t breathe. He had to breathe. He smelled you.

He sat up at the sound.

Click.

The lock turned.

He burned. He fucking burned. He breathed growls through his teeth.

The door opened, and your scent was heaven and hell–

“Eddie?” you called out. Voice dripping with such concern.

He was so far gone he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything except moan and pull on the cuffs. It was loud. Loud enough in his silent apartment. And you heard it. Yes. His eyes rolled back as you dropped your bag and damn near sprinted to his room. The sound of your feet hitting the floor quickly until you were a shadow in his doorway, panting as he was. 

Was that his heartbeat or yours he was hearing? It was hard. It was rough. It was unrelenting.

“Woah, Eddie,” you whispered.

And he cracked his eyes open. It was all he could do when he couldn't speak. That and just look at you. Want you. Spread his legs as he looked at you, tired yet suddenly awake. Your dress a little wrinkled. The scent of the pizza place clinging to you just a little. Then, your soap from your bathroom. He knew that smell too–lavender. You'd gone home for a moment. Just a moment. Just enough to clean up, but not change.

You had to rush over to him, hadn’t you?

His cock twitched on its own.

You watched it.

“How long have you been like this?” you murmured. Your voice was so fucking soft. A feather against his cheek. 

He gave you a look that said how long do you think? 

You frowned. Slow steps carried you over, and he twitched. Jerked. Tried to pull away with the last of his consciousness, but as you sat down on the edge of the bed and put your hand on his thigh…. He moaned. Loud and hungrily. His head fell back, and he almost broke the cuffs then and there. 

You tapped his thigh gently.

“Do you want some help?” you asked so, so, so fucking softly.

All his focus honed in on you, and he growled. It was a strained, choked sound. And you–Christ. You just gave him a soft fucking smile. A gentle smile. A knowing one. 

“Alright, but do me a favor?”

You stood. He grunted. 

You unzipped the back of your dress, back to him. And let it fall.

You had different underwear on than earlier.

“Next time, don’t run off without me? I can’t help you if I’m left with everyone else.”

You bent over and pushed your underwear down, giving him the perfect fucking view of you. No answer. Not a single fucking word came to mind as he looked at you practically presented for him. But he didn’t budge. Something in that deep animal instinct told him not to. So he didn’t. He didn’t fucking speak. He didn’t fucking move. He just moaned at the sight of you, at every step you took, vibrating as you climbed onto the bed and knelt between his legs, and–

You gave him a soft, glimmering smile.

“I’ve been wanting to….” You leaned down over his lap and took him in your hands. Holy fuck. “Is it okay if I…?”

His hunger rose. His hips jutted up instantly, and the head of his cock nudged your mouth. A glistened line of precum was left, and you licked it clean off. As he’d hoped, you took that as a yes. And as much as he hated the thought of losing even a single drop to somewhere that wasn’t your cunt, the pure, unfiltered pleasure that ripped through him when you brought your mouth down to him drowned it. 

He parted his legs, jutted up, and fucking sobbed as you took him in your mouth. Deep, tight, wet…. His balls cinched before you even started a rhythm. Deep–you took him deep. You took him slowly. You fucking annihilated him with the press of your tongue against the base of his shaft, following the thick vein all the way up before swirling your tongue around his tip. He barely survived it. He fucking–

His senses kicked in. Just enough.

He cracked his eyes open as he heard it. The soft movement on his bed. The soft sighs that vibrated against his cock. His balls tightened unbearably before he even saw it. His orgasm rushed him as he saw you with one hand beneath you, fingers on your cunt. In. He could hear the squelching.

“In,” he barked. It was a raw sound. An ugly, beastly sound. “I need to fucking be inside of you. I’m–”

That was it. Those were the most words he could get out before he was throwing his head back. Your mouth left him with a small pop, and there was movement. Just as his hips rutted up, he felt warmth and wetness on his shoulder. Your fingers dug into him as you straddled him, your free hand reaching down and taking his cock. His tip pressed against you. His tip pressed in you just as he lost that restraint to keep himself composed.

He was there.

And you were fucking there. For him. You were sinking down on his cock as he jerked up hard into you. You fell onto his chest, back arched, mouth against his cheek. The moan was as raw as his was, and tears streaked his cheeks. He came just as you started to sink down halfway, your nails digging fucking wonderful scratches into him. 

His feet kicked. His head fell back. He snarled into the heavy silence, giving little thrusts to milk himself of that torture deeper and deeper until suddenly you were seated all the way down on his lap, panting right along with him. 

Warm. Wet. Clenching.

He shuddered, making you bounce just a little on his own, his hips jerking up and down repeatedly to get that last little bit out. Yes. Fuck yes. He whined in heaven, cracking his eyes open to find you. Smiling. Rocking your hips a little and biting your lip.

A promise he felt through everything as your smile grew. 

"Can I keep going?" you mused. You already knew the answer. 

“Please,” he whined. His tears burned. “And don’t fucking stop.

You gave him that same smile and nodded.

His.

He threw his head back as you rode him.

You were fucking his.

[pretty-batty]

howling for you - pt two

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Reader’s POV

pt one

Synopsis: Eddie comes. Eddie kisses you. Eddie leaves. And you struggle to think about anything else as you wait impatiently for him to visit you that next morning. 

Warnings: nsfw/18+ content; porn with a little bit of plot; Reader’s POV this time; situationship+/friends just helping friends but oh no there are feelings involved, breeding kink, eddie’s in heat, soft & possessive & jealous!eddie, dirty talk if you squint, sobbing from pleasure, fingering, clit stim, somno with prior consent, nipple stim & oral (reader receiving) & masturbation mentioned, choking, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, cum play/creampie/eddie cums in & on the reader & stuffs it back in, slight overstim 

Word Count: 4.4k 

A/N: I heard we may have wanted a continuation and to hear the reader’s perspective, so I thought I’d give this a try :) 

When he showed up, it was like the winter night became summer. 

Well, perhaps that was lending too much softness to his bite. The nip in the air remained, but it was the drag of his fangs on the back of your neck. He needn’t say it–the second he knocked on your window, you knew. It wasn’t supposed to be for a little while longer–a mental calendar of blistering anticipation was more than enough to keep track of it. And the glittering, frantic look in his eye as you opened your curtains solidified it.

"Please?" was all he murmured when you shoved your window up, leaning through to look at him crouching in your tree, trembling. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his clothes clinging to different parts of him. His jacket shed in his hands as he bared what parts of him that he could to the freezing air. 

It was the closest you’d ever seen him to begging that wasn’t a joke.

Downstairs, your friends were waiting. The dress you'd just put on clung to you uncomfortably and doubled when Eddie drew his eyes over you, and he let out a soft whine you weren't even sure he knew he did. 

He needed you.

And he looked as apologetic as you’d ever seen him when someone banged on your door and shouted excitedly for you to hurry up.

“Fuck,” left him in a whisper, “I–”

Fuck no. The internal battle was external, and he was shaking. Down deep, he was fighting that hunger you knew was wreaking painful havoc in him. Like hell you were going to let him claw himself away and stay like that for the next few days. His hands didn’t do shit to help him. And with how he seethed when he came anywhere but in you…. 

“Come on,” you said with a small smile. 

And it was like the sun erupted in the room.

All it took was a quick message to your friends. You just needed a little while longer. Just a little while alone to get yourself composed. Parties weren't exactly your favorite thing, so…. Either they bought it, or they just knew something else was up. You'd find a better explanation later if Eddie slipping in didn't get you caught through that alone.

There was little time left to think about it, though. When you gave him permission, he became an animal. Broken control ripped through him and found his hands that came to you. Though, it was surprising to see he had enough strength to wait. He cracked your bedroom window, pulled his shirt off, and barely got his belt undone while you undressed. 

It was the same system. You needed to be naked with the mess he’d make of you. And given his tendency to seek you out, you tucked a few towels under your bed for next time. It spared your sheets. 

His belt was a warm sound as you draped them down. His anticipation was growing. His impatience was a low growl as you bent over your bed, getting in his favorite position. Your locked door was the only thing reminding you of your senses. One little lock kept your secret intact. But the second you laid on your stomach and angled your hips back, cunt practically displayed for him–

He was on you.

It might’ve been assistance for him after the change, but it was not a fucking chore at all. Nothing selfless about it, really. You bit down on your pillow as he rushed you, fingers working your clit quickly. He pinned you with that impossible strength, his grip tight and collar-like on the back of your neck. His cock brushed against your bottom–more anticipation. He brought his fingers down and plunged one into you, filling you slowly and with such gentle and controlled care. Then, a second. Then, a third.

Until you were dripping wet onto those towels and whining into your pillows.

His impatience was visceral, but he didn’t move his fingers out until you were fluttering around them. He never fucked you until you came at least once. Then he’d give you his cock. He wouldn’t put it into words, but you weren’t as blind or ignorant as he wanted you to be. You were helping him, and he could’ve taken advantage of that time and time again. And maybe the bar was low, but him making sure you were moaning into your pillow and climaxing around his fingers–or his tongue–every time before he fucked you raw into your mattress was heart-racing.

It wasn’t….

He wasn’t using you. 

That’s what it said. And it said that massively while framed in the splitting feeling of his cock pressing into you before you even finished climaxing. He pushed into you as your cunt clenched down, fluttering unapologetically over his cock as he pushed in, in, in without pause. He knew you could take him–holy hell. That confidence every fucking time was mind-breaking. He knew you could take him. He knew how much you could handle. And he fucking brought you to that limit every time.

He shuddered as you took him, and you barely heard that soft snarl as he pressed against your ass, balls deep, the splitting sensation of his cock making your climax peak hard. You gushed around him, the euphoria indescribable. You’d missed him. Not that you’d ever admit it. Him showing up that night was…. A gift. A really, really nice gift.

You relaxed only slightly as you came down from your climax, but you didn't let up on your bruising grip on your sheets. He reached down and took you by the back of your neck as he so liked to do, and without ceremony, he whined out a broken I’m sorry. The sound desperate and raw. Shaking as he shook.

And without hesitation, he pulled his hips back and pounded into you.

Sweet fucking god.

You grinned into your pillow and sobbed–he felt fucking amazing.

It was weird. It was fucking weird. Whenever Eddie left–be it minutes after you two finished or hours–it was always the same sensation. The whole-body tingling that left you drooling. The clenching you'd practiced for him, keeping his cum in as you promised you would. The overwhelming, mind-breaking sense as you blinked at your ceiling, replaying every touch, every out-of-that-damned-world sensation. No one touched you like he did. No one fucked you like that. No one could. 

He was like a drug. And you'd lay there blissed out in your collective mess–outside of the times when he did clean you up–just in a special fucking kind of heaven. Sometimes, not that you'd ever admit it to him, you…might…give yourself one more orgasm. Just…thinking about him. It wasn't anything. You weren’t unsatisfied. You weren’t left wanting by him even in the slightest. It was just…him. 

Which meant nothing. Just an effect of the assistance. Nothing more than that. 

Except that night.

He’d kissed you.

It wasn’t like any of the other times. Those were heated, in-the-moment kisses. Drawn together by his hunger, his fingers tearing at your clothing while he was desperate to get inside of you. They were just part of it. 

That kiss hadn’t.

That kiss was slow. It was intimate. And you were left thinking about that more than any of the rest as you lay in your bed. Naked and dripping, hands shaking as you kept your legs back and spread as if he was still there to see. The plush feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of him that was so familiar and so…so addicting. Your own words repeated back to you when you knew…. When you’d fucked up and looked at him like…like that. 

He’d caught you off guard. You hadn’t been able to shield yourself quick enough. Blissed out, fucked out, then kissed like you were something a hell of a lot more than just a friend helping him out…. You were caught off guard! It wasn’t fair!

And you thought about that kiss then. You thought about that kiss as you cleaned yourself up. You thought about that kiss as you finally went downstairs and found your friends, found their single friends, and had a few drinks. You thought about it when a few flirted with you, trying to get your number, trying to put a hand on your knee, trying to find something you weren’t entertaining. You just kept thinking about the kiss.

Kept thinking about Eddie and his damned endless apologies and how used your body was getting to his rough hunger. 

That damn kiss.

It meant something–it damn well meant something. That was the scary part. It meant something, and it meant something you couldn't even begin to entertain in case you were wrong. Eddie was…Eddie. He was a fucking werewolf. He wasn’t…. You shook your head for the hundredth time that night, shoving the indecency away.

It’d meant something, but speculating on the what was just going to drive you more mad than you knew what to deal with. You’d see him in the morning, and…. And then yeah. It’d be whatever it was, and if he trusted you as you knew he did, he’d follow your instructions. 

You spent a few more hours down in your living room until you were too tired to stay awake anymore. A few of those flirty singles tried to make a move throughout the night, but only one made one as you passed by him to go to bed. Nothing serious; you just said your goodnights, and an accidental conversation broke out for a moment about music. A continued conversation from earlier, and you found yourself slipping back into it. It carried on; he made you laugh, and there was a brief opening. He kissed you hesitantly, and it was…nothing. 

You didn't even need to shove him back. It was like he felt it, too. It was a chaste, surprising kiss. Caught you off guard, sure, but was…nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to the sparking heat that just the thought of Eddie gave you. 

“Sorry,” he sputtered, shaking his head and practically fleeing.

Eddie was still your focus. It was what it was, and you went upstairs and brushed your teeth. A bad kiss wasn’t going to ruin your night, and it damn well wasn’t going to keep you from sleeping soundly. 

Dressed in a nightgown, underwear left off and draped over your desk chair, you cracked your window just enough so Eddie could get his fingers underneath. And at that, with brimming anticipation, you climbed in bed. Sleep found you with the touch of Eddie's lips to yours. The parting of them against yours so slowly yet firmly. The taste of him an obsessive pin pricking you in your consciousness. His rough palm on the back of your head. His fingers inside of you….

You dreamt of him all night.

Dreamt so deeply, you forgot about the real world. 

It was just…Eddie. All Eddie. Each and every blink and flash of a moment between the two of you every time he needed you. Every time you arched your back and pressed your face down and screamed for him. When he pressed his fingers into you and had you gushing over them. As he pressed his cock into you, and no matter how many times he did, there was always that stretching sensation. The same every time. Of just how huge he was. How he had you squirmed around him until he was balls deep, and then you had tears in your eyes as just the slightest twitching hit those sweet, sensitive spots that put stars behind your eyes. 

It was fucking incredible. It was perfect. It was–

You stirred. Sleep fell away in slow drips. A spraying hose washing it down with hot water. It soaked through your blankets, your pajamas, you. Then it was heavy. It was shuddering. It was thick.

Oh.

Your next breath was tight in your chest. Your eyes fluttered open in tandem with the world coming to. Your knees pressed to your chest, your nipples hard and cold with a dampness that brought you to Eddie’s clenched teeth and deep growl. His hair hung in his eyes as he leaned over you, pushing you into your mattress with that blooming strength that made your clit ache. And he pounded into you deep and hard.

Oh, mercy. 

A smile split. You were already…. He’d…. It…. Consciousness came barreling toward you at the speed of your climax. He was the only person you’d been with who could get you to cum from penetration alone, but you’d never told him that. His name was a delicious whisper as you grasped at your sheets, coming to as you clenched hard around him.

His eyes had a glow to them. A slight golden hue in that brown. And the instant they found you, they fucking burned. They always burned. When he was like this, and when he looked at you while he was like this, it was like a threat. He was going to eat you alive. Devour you. Ruin you. Take you. Like you were his.

It felt fucking phenomenal.

You barely even remembered the party. Barely even remembered your plans. You just pressed your head back as the rush of euphoria slammed into you without warning, and Eddie–fucking wonderful man that he was–fucked you hard and deep through it. And he didn’t stop.

Oh, god. Your eyes rolled back. You were still sore from last night, but it was a special thing. It all vanished when he was inside of you. It was just the need, like you could feel his. Every touch was fire. Every look made you erupt. And every rushing orgasm….

He reached through your legs just as your mouth fell open. You knew the feeling of his hand on your mouth well, and you waited for it. He was good at making you scream. How many times had he brought you gift bags of tea and honey and an apologetic grin? He wasn’t apologizing this time, though, as he closed his hand around your throat. Hesitantly at first, then when the rush of adrenaline that bullied its way through you and brought your eyes open and wide, a singular nod moving your head, he closed his hand tighter.

Holy–

He snapped his hips forward, and it only took a few thrusts. He leaned forward, shifting his weight around with what told you was care and practice so as to not hurt your throat, and snarled with his forehead almost against yours. He came. He always looked, always sounded, always fucking animalistic when he came. His hard thrusts stayed hard, but they always got smaller. He stayed locked in you, cock buried as deep as he could get it, and he came. He grunted, he whined, and he latched onto you like you were all that mattered in the world.

“Morning,” he grunted. His eyes fluttered open, only halfway, and they dropped to your mouth.

Eddie, fuck.

You tipped your chin up and felt your heart stutter.

“Morning,” you whispered. 

His breath tickled your mouth. His thumb pressed against the center of your throat, drawing lines back and forth. Sweat already covered both of you. 

“Did you….” You swallowed hard, trying to divert the need to kiss him again. It wasn’t unheard of to have the moments where you stopped, but they were rarely long. He was ramping back up in seconds, and then he needed to fuck you like he needed oxygen to breathe. So you took the opportunity to get some extra ground beneath your feet. You nodded down at where your knees hit your chest. Though, it was the first time you felt nervous about talking about what you two did together. “My chest….” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. Wheezed, really. He was already starting to shake. His hips…. Fuck. Your head pressed back. He started those short, soft thrusts again, continuing to bring his hips down against your ass with wet slaps. "I, uh…you…. I thought you'd wake up from it. I…fuck.” 

He was losing focus. His head hung, and he shoved your knees apart, coming down on top of you. All the way on top of you. Missionary was a rare fucking position for the two of you, and you went completely still so as to not ruin it. 

One of his hands slid up beneath your thigh and held your knee back. It was intimate. It was…. Fucking hell. He whined and brought his mouth to your neck. 

“They just looked really fucking kissable,” he breathed against you. 

His chest dragged against your nipples as if to accentuate his point. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer. He went. He…. He moaned. 

"You came," he said a second later, his voice losing its control. Raw and thinned–he wasn't going to be able to hold it for long. His movements were getting rough again. Desperate. Hungry. "Before you woke up. I…." He shifted his mouth against you, and you felt it. You hadn't noticed it in your sleepy haze, but you felt the slickness then without his mouth needing to be open. On his chin, on his mouth, and around it. "I missed you on my tongue."

You couldn’t speak. You two never did dirty talk. There was never the time. Afterward, yeah, you joked. Maybe said a dirty thing or two. But that? No fucking way. Eddie was always so far gone down the beast path, he was in a trance. He fucked you raw and hard until you were screaming for him, no extra speaking during. 

Which meant….

Your breath caught, and you wrapped both arms around him, embracing him closer, arching your back as he snapped his hips in harder. Deeper.

Which meant he wasn’t in that trance, not fully, and he…. He was there to fuck you to…to fuck you. 

You shoved your head back, and Eddie kissed the front of your throat. 

Oh, fucking hell.

He cupped the back of your head as he fucked you, his mouth never leaving your throat, his hips only shifting when he went for your clit. Your bed creaked in tandem with the harsh movements, both of you writhing around as a cloud of euphoria overtook the room, and you were lost to time as you came. And came. And sobbed down tear-streaked cheeks as you came around his cock again.

He'd laid the towels down as best as he could beneath you, and he started to lift your hips back again as he came inside of you for the…fifth time? Sixth? You'd lost count. You were stuck with slow blinks as he came in a slow, deep fuck. Softly rutting into you and letting you feel everything he'd spilled inside of you shift and squelch and drip down your ass. 

“One more,” he choked.

You nodded, unsure of whether he meant you or him, but the answer came quickly.

He stroked your clit with one finger until you were spasming and writhing on his cock, his mouth hovering over yours before his other hand covered it. Your scream was silenced as he slammed his hips against you, pinning you in place and holding you back as you came. Stuck unmoving on his cock was heaven and hell in unison. Your eyes rolled back, and you sobbed.

A few extra thrusts when you came down, and his hand was off your mouth and cupping your cheek. He bared his teeth as he came, spilling inside of you one last time, his breath tickling the side of your mouth. And you panted and left your eyes closed, knowing what came next.

You bit your lip as he paused. Waited that thirty seconds or so. Then it was torture feeling his cock leave. You missed him already, ached for him emptily, and wanted him so desperately. And then came his fingers. Careful and ginger as he gathered up what had spilled and stuffed it back into you.

He didn’t move back to look that time, though. He just…stayed close and went by feel.

He just…stayed close. Right against you. Both of you huffing in the now deadly silence. Wet, sticky, and–

“How was the party?” he grunted.

Your eyes fluttered open and found his waiting. A heat stayed in them, a heart-stopping, heart-staggering heat. You licked the corner of your mouth and did your best half-shrug.

“Boring. Uneventful.”

He nodded, fingers moving up and pressing into you. Fuck. Your shoulders pushed back, and you inadvertently pressed against him as you gasped and took his fingers. Deeper, deeper, deeper–you shuddered. His thumb brushed your clit. 

“You, uh….” He cleared his throat and looked at the other side of your bed. His necklace pooled on your chest. “Came to be alone. So it must’ve been.”

Your brows furrowed. You came to bed alone? You blinked at him and laughed. It came out raw and stiff with the tenderness in your throat. 

“I said I would.”

He nodded again. Just as he did, his fingers found your sweet spot. Fucking hell. His thumb moved back and forth very, very gently on your clit. It was getting harder to focus. You were so sensitive, just that was making you start to squirm. Eddie. 

“I know. But I know parties can get outta hand. Shit happens.”

You shook your head. Your hips lifted. His fingers moved a little faster, as did his thumb. Fucking– You started to shake. It was too much at once, but it felt fucking incredible. He always made you cum like that. That he got off on making you cum while he stuffed his back in. He probably did. His whole thing was rooted in making sure you held onto it. It’d been a wild thing to get used to when he first admitted it to you, but the second he started? You…kind of understood it.

Would you ever admit it to him? Fuck no. Your secret of making yourself cum after he left was going to stay a secret. Right along with the intermittent thoughts that rushed upon you without warning that were just that. Him pinning you as he always did, spilling inside of you until he held you there, just like that, desperate for you. Just you.

You knew it was just you. You’d told him he had to tell you if he was sleeping with anyone else–the one main part of your deal. And knowing that it was just you, and constantly recalling the fierce offense he took when you’d stated that was…. 

“Fuck no. I only want you, (Y/N).”

His cheeks had been the faintest red as those words fell between you.

And you’d agreed on the spot.

Shit, Eddie. He was ruining you.

You shook your head; your orgasm was coming toward you with a gentle kiss. 

“No, it was boring. I just…I just got through it and went to bed. The only remotely unexpected thing that happened was one of the guys tried to ki–”

You cut yourself short. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t even…. You bit your lip, and–

Eddie stopped. His fingers stilled deep, and his nose nudged your jaw. Sweet mercy. Your eyes fluttered open and found him above you. His brows furrowed, and his eyes searched yours. You started to shake a little, and he leaned in more. His breath was against your jaw. Slow and steady.

The predatory look in his eye was animalistic. Beastly. And if you weren’t so close to climaxing, you might’ve thought it was possessive. 

Fuck it.

“Kiss me,” you finished. 

Your throat bobbed with a hard swallow. 

Eddie went still. Completely still.

His heaving chest was all that moved. 

Was he…? Was it…? Your brows furrowed. His jaw clenched. Was that his heart you were feeling beat so fast, or was it yours?

“Eddie?” you murmured, nervously.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. For a moment, his nostrils flared. His jaw stayed clenched. And he was tense with an animalistic possessiveness that could’ve only been that. It floored into you like he bled it, and your head spun. He…was possessive over you, and it felt fucking phenomenal. But he…he still looked angry. He looked–

He moved his fingers again. Slower but harder. Every thrust punctuating his next move. His thumb rubbed your clit and made your eyes water. His elbow held him up, and he grabbed you by your jaw. He seethed through his teeth as he parted your mouth with his thumb, coming down inch by agonizingly slow inch. Your heels pressed into your bed as your vision blurred–your climax sprinted toward you at a breakneck speed.

You whined as Eddie didn’t deny you. Whine and was close to begging for what, you couldn’t comprehend, but you writhed beneath him as he came in.

He pressed a fierce, claiming kiss to your lips as you came around his fingers.

His. You felt it as he pushed into you, deepening the kiss as he ruined the world around you with his fingers, making you sweet white behind your eyes. You gushed as he let you taste yourself and him on his tongue. As he pinned you and pleased you and claimed.

His knees kicked yours back open when they fell, and his cock pressed against your stomach hard and wanting.

He didn't need to say it when he broke the kiss. Both of you panting as you looked at each other. He looked uncertain in his actions until his eyes lifted from your mouth. Whatever look you couldn't hold back had his mouth twitching into the faintest crooked smile and his breathing coming a little easier.

He came back in. His fingers pulled out of you and wiped off on your inner thigh. Slowly–so slowly–he came back in. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms shakily went around his neck. His mouth came to yours, and he pulled your blankets over you. 

Your alarm ticked closer to going off, the hours slipping away for when you needed to go. But nothing else mattered. Nothing else took precedence.

Eddie kissed you like you were his meal.

Right then, as the world stayed just between the two of you, you knew without a shadow of a fucking doubt that you were his.

His.

Savoring every second, you stayed just like that until your alarm blared. But even then....

Eddie smacked it, the sound cutting out, and you both rolled over. Your legs parted over him and his arms came up over your back. Like that, as the sun rose, you stayed. A new day, a new feeling, and you basked in it.

His.

It felt fucking phenomenal. 

[pretty-batty]

howling for you

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Eddie’s POV

Synopsis: Out of desperation, Eddie visits you at your house to take care of some agonizing hunger. 

Warnings: nsfw/18+ content; porn with a hint of a plot; Eddie's POV; breeding kink, Eddie’s in heat, situationship+/friends just helping friends, jealous & possessive!eddie, rough sex, clit stim, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex, cum play/creampie/eddie cums in & on the reader & stuffs it back in, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So, I wrote a werewolf!eddie story for Valentine’s Day, then ended up getting a little more brainrot from it and wound up writing this today. They’re separate stories, but this is a little glimpse of what to expect from the V-Day fic :) Hope you like it!

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sputtered for the hundredth time.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Driven by that deep-seated animalistic hunger…. He hung his head and growled. The sound was ugly to his ears, but the rest that framed them drove him onward. A curse within a curse, all wrapped in an imperfect, impenetrable bow. 

“I’m– fuck. I’m sorry.”

You answered with a warm, addictive clench around him, the gushing driving him deeper inside of you, chasing that feeling. Your whines and moans joined the wet slaps of every rough thrust he gave you. Though, with a hand on the back of your neck that kept your back perfectly arched, you turned your head into your pillows so nobody would hear. You bit down on it every time he drilled into you faster, leaving permanent marks in the fabric just as your fingers were doing to your sheets.

You laid three towels down underneath you to spare the cleanup, but still, he promised he'd get you new sheets cause of this. Kept that as one of the few coherent thoughts he still had when he was inside of you.

You were supposed to be downstairs. Your friends were having a party for something he couldn't even recall right then. Two dozen people down there, some of them even brought some of their single friends to help you out cause apparently, you being single for a year was unfathomable and the worst fucking thing in the world. The thought of it, parading you around down there to flirt with the random assholes like that….

Your bed creaked as he fucked you deeper, and you began to shudder. That sweet fucking shudder you did. Christ. He gave you shorter, quicker thrusts. His cock nestled deep in your cunt, a fucking addictive sensation that brought less relief before relief would come. And it would. It fucking would. You were the only one who made it go away. You were the only one he didn’t feel anything bad after draining his balls in you for the torturous hours when this fucking curse hit. 

You felt fucking right. It wasn't a waste with you. Even when some spilled out of you and his body burned watching it drip down your thighs and cunt, you kept yourself spread so he could push it back in. You fucking wanted it. You wanted it. You wanted him. You still fucking wanted him even when he showed up at your fucking window in the middle of your party, drenched in that damned cold sweat, shaking, red in his cheeks and audibly panting. 

You still locked your door, texted your friends that you weren’t feeling too great and you needed an hour or so, and you laid out those towels with a gentle smile. A beckoning smile.

He managed to keep himself together so you could drape your dress and underwear over your desk chair. Then….

His hips snapped forward and his vision blurred. Four. For the fourth time, he came in you. Throwing his head back and nearly drawing blood on his lip, he felt that rush of adrenaline and relief. It ripped through him and brought little rough thrusts that had you gasping into your pillow. He always enjoyed those. The ones where it was from him climaxing that made you lose your mind. Like you got off on taking him like that. 

Maybe you did.

He wouldn't ask you. He knew if the answer was yes, he wouldn't be able to keep what little of his sanity remained. 

“Fuck,” he choked out.

You clenched around him, walls fluttering and beckoning him to stay. He was trying to go. Trying to leave. His balls tightened as you took him to the hilt, and he readjusted his grasp on your hips desperately. Close–you were close. You could cum. He could make you. He needed you to. You’d cum how many times already? Three? You had to match. The least he could do was match.

His hair hung in his face as he reached around you. Gentle–he was gentle. Slow and gentle. With his fingers. He found your clit with memorized ease, giving you tight circles that had you gasping instantly. Your cunt began to spasm, and you writhed, clawing at your bed and whimpering, yes, yes, yes. And at that heavenly sound, his hips snapped forward, rutting so deep your subdued sounds became a bit of a bark. Your whole body–he could feel it–it became a light. It burned. It trembled.

He snapped his hips forward again, dragging his cock against all the sweet, sensitive sections inside of you. And you shuddered. Crying into your pillow, tearing at the fabric on your pillowcase, you cried. You squirmed. You came.

Restraint. He dropped both hands. They were shaking as you were. Both of you sitting in the silence of your bedroom, hearing the party down below. People laughed, their conversations drowning out into each other. And your heartbeats did as they always did–agonizingly beat together. As you both huffed for necessary fresh air to clear your heads, you were together. Wholly.

Eddie ran a hand over the top of your ass, tracing the tips of his nails over the tender skin with just enough pressure to gain goosebumps. You shuddered again, sniffling through hitched breaths. He was still erect, still balls deep–he had to wait. You knew that. Even if his balls were empty and he had nothing else to give, he needed to wait. And he waited, stroking your back, looking down at where he pressed inside of you, drenched in a cold sweat of needing more. 

All night.

He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to keep you there. You were his. Like hell you were going downstairs to the flirty strangers there.

But he…he couldn’t be selfish. He was trying. He was trying so fucking hard.

You were doing more than enough as you were. He'd interrupted your night, and you still helped him. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

It hurt to pull out. It was like he'd edged himself for hours, and just before he was about to cum, he was stopping. Even if he could see the opposite of that as evidence on your thighs. Still. His cock glistened hard and still leaking. That was just one agony for you knew him. You were more than just…you were more than just friends. He had one hand on the base of his cock as you pushed your weight onto your shoulders and reached back. His coherence blurred as you spread yourself for him as you did every fucking time without him asking. You just did it.

Fucking–

He put a hand on your ass and pushed you harder against your bed. He was being a little selfish. But he couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to be. He had to. He had to. He had to.

He pumped his cock hard and quick. The sight was fucking perfect. Unbearable to leave as it was. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He pressed his tip against your entrance and came, mourning the loss of what wasn’t going inside of you, but burning at the relief that was joined by your whine and wiggle of your hips.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered, voice raw as he freed his cock. “Fuck. I…Christ, I seriously fucking….”

He brought his fingers to you as you kept yourself spread. Same thing–doing what he liked without him even thinking of asking. You just…you just did it. And he gathered up what wasn’t inside of you and pushed it in with two fingers. Again, then again. Making sure he got every drop that could be saved. 

Your body shook, and if it wasn’t for the damn laughter, he might’ve thought you were crying. You were. You were still crying a little. Sobbing and sniffling as you lifted your head and laughed. You trembled under your own weight. Kept in that position for so long, fucked raw and rough and as hard as he’d given it to you, you were a puddle. One that laughed so lightly it drove him mad.

"You've said," you murmured with a smile. A killer smile. It made his grow crooked, and certainty and relief settled in his gut. "I would've told you to take a hike, Eddie. You know that."

He did. You'd done it only once before, and he'd never left a place that the cops weren't at so quickly. He was trying. He was trying so fucking hard, and you made it so easy. You even backed yourself up onto his fingers as they pushed into you again, and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair knowing you were going downstairs the second he left.

“I interrupted your night, ‘kay? I’m gonna apologize.” 

He curled his fingers and the squelching–Christ. Your fingers gave way. You fell into a new arch, shaking as he continued to pump his fingers. He reached back around you and found your clit again. His chest heaved. The thought of someone else touching you, getting that flirty smile from you, getting to put their fingers inside of you, their tongue, their cock. 

Selfish–he was feeling really selfish. He knew–he fucking knew nobody would fuck you like he did. Nobody would make you cum as hard. Or…or have the stamina the damn bite gave him. Nobody. But he…he needed….

He needed to be selfish.

He pushed you onto your side just as he felt your cunt clench. Not yet. He burned as you blinked up at him, moving with his hands as he guided you onto your back. The positions he normally had you in faced you away. You rarely really looked at each other, and he could see the nerves, the intimacy. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, though. But it was the first time he was doing it so….

In control.

He came over you, finding your widening eyes and your pulse skyrocketing. He nearly draped his body against you, but he needed room to plunge his fingers back into you and his palm to find your clit. Just enough. And your mouth fell open as he propped himself up on his elbow and cupped the back of your head.

Your eyes were so full and teary as they searched his. Your chest pressed against his with uneven, heavy breaths. And your back arched as your climax slowly barreled toward you.

He pressed his mouth to yours. No hesitation–no warning. A slow, searing, possessive kiss. His fingers moved faster. He’d brought this mouth to yours in heated, rough moments. Not like this. It was never…so intimate. 

His body moved with the thrusts of his fingers, the push of his arm. Your mouth parted on a gasp, and he didn't have to take the full stride. You met his tongue halfway, deepening the kiss with him. And–oh. Oh. Oh. Jesus fucking Christ.

He snarled into the kiss, pinning you back.

His.

Your eyes clamped shut, and your head pressed back. 

His. You were his.

You moaned against his mouth as you came, writhing beneath him and sputtering out his name. He tasted the tears on your lips. His hair fell into your face and his. His necklace was a warm press on your chest.

His fingers pulled out and pushed right back in even slower, holding you like a hook as he ghosted his mouth over yours.

“Hold some of it in for me before you go downstairs,” he whispered. “Just a little longer.”

His fingers pulled out. You nodded your head on a soft breath. Half-lidded, your eyes fell to his mouth and stayed there.

“You know I always do,” you murmured. “I know it helps.”

He matched your nod with his own.

“Thanks again.”

He…he nipped at your bottom lip on a whim. The sweet, vibrating sound you made was fucking atrocious to his self-control. Yet he still managed. He started to pull back, needing to leave, needing to go, needing to be far from you before what control he had over his second wind kicking in waned. So he pushed back–

“Are you coming back tomorrow?”

His hands twitched. You pushed up onto your elbows, closing the distance he just took, and he went still. Your eyes were wide and vulnerable. Sweet. You’d never asked him before. It’d always just been…. He left, then you two saw each other when you saw each other. Sometimes the next day with friends, sometimes not for a week or two. You were still in contact, yeah, but your…you thing was something kept track of except when he had unexpected moments like the one that night.

“I mean,” you murmured, brows furrowing, eyes darting away. “I just…was this enough? Because I have to be at Payton’s tomorrow at ten. If…if it’s not. I’ll be here before then.”

His cheeks flushed with what he damn well knew was a visible red. But it was joined by a crooked yet surprised smile. He tried to play it cool. Once upon a time, he would’ve thought being a werewolf would’ve made him fucking cooler in that regard. Gave him even more confidence to fuck around, but no. You ruined it. You took it and crushed it with your damn smile and kindness and selfless help.

And then you had to go and bite your lip before dragging your tongue back over it. And he knew–he fucking knew. He knew you were trying to get another taste of him. So he…he nodded again, and up went his hand. Your cheek was wet and soft. His pulse was hard and unforgiving as your bed creaked.

One more.

One last.

You melted while he barely held himself together as he kissed you.

“I’ll be by before you go,” he said against you. “Doubt it’ll be early, but–”

“You can come in. You….” You swallowed hard, nose nudging his. Your breath trembled. “You can just…if I’m sleeping. You can wake me up…with it…if that makes sense.”

His. He growled without even meaning, his nails pressing just a little bit into you as he brought his mouth back to yours. The kiss was just as searing as the last but coming in hotter. Truly burning. Maddening and breaking. You…. You…. 

You’d be alone in your room. 

For him.

Waiting for him.

He shuddered and pulled back. He wanted to stay. Fuck it. He wanted to fuck you into your mattress all over again. 

You weren’t going to give any of the shitheads down there even a second of a chance. 

He kissed your jaw before pulling back, making a direct line for your window. His hand shook. He was alight inside of him in a way he couldn’t fucking comprehend. And he pulled on his clothes, left doing his belt as he sat in your window, the glass smudged from your collective fingers. 

You lay sprawled on your bed, eyeing him with a burning yet tender gaze he wanted to eat up. To bathe in. It was new. Newer. That look was never so…at the front. He gave you a crooked smirk and waved.

“Sleep naked for me,” he whispered.

You cracked a smile. “I will.”

“Thanks.” He licked his lips before turning toward the night.

Out in the slightly cool air, he sprinted down into the trees, taking in you. Only you. All of you. It was a new beat in his chest he couldn’t fathom. It drove him wild, and he hollered with a beastly echo while running.

Christ. 

The morning couldn’t fucking come fast enough. 

[pretty-batty]

[pretty-batty]

WEREWOLF!EDDIE LOVERS.

PLEASE TELL ME WE HAVE WEREWOLF!EDDIE LOVERS

PLEASE.

[pretty-batty]

My God...

This is some of the best soup I've gotten in a while.

BENEATH THE BLADE - part one

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: swordsman!eddie x noble!reader

summary: with your father on the brink of war he finds himself in need of a bigger army, and the only person capable of helping is none other than eddie munson, the lord of death, but the only way to achieve his loyalty is through marriage.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, marriage of convenience, alcohol use, themes of misogyny/sexism, SMUT - 18+, mentions of bedding ceremony tradition, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected — stay safe pls), hint of breeding kink, tiny bit of blasphemy, mentions of domestic violence (brief), mentions of death, mentions of blood/gore/violence, asshole!eddie, and eddie being dark and hot <3

word count: 12.5k

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie is handsome.

Charming in a soft light, you’d say— at least when he’s not covered in dirt and the blood of his enemies— his features are vivid this way, sharp yet kind, free of the anger that you’ve known to follow him in tow.

When he arrived, he was a sight to see— a jarring one.

Mud and filth caked over his body; blood smeared down his face to match the blade of his sword, soiled hair tied back and dripping with a liquid you’re not sure you would even want to know the name of. He was walking death. Cold eyes and a honed fleet to match. When his lips cracked to form a grin, you had accepted that nothing could be worse than marrying the very walking doom of the earth.

You hated it. You think you hate him.

Your wedding caused quite the commotion amongst the city of RedGate— travelers from the opposite side of the world came just to see you be wed today, the biggest day of your life, yet you’re struggling to find the joy in it.

When you were little, your mother would tell you stories of how one day you’d be married off to a prince, a handsome one with a gorgeous smile and all the gold in the world to make you happy, and somehow you ended up with the complete opposite.

Still, even if this marriage is the least adhered to your liking, you don’t have a choice. It’s your duty. Your promise to the people of RedGate.

A marriage of convenience, your father told you.

You have the money, and he has the men.

In the eyes of the storyteller, it’s a match made in heaven. You see anything but.

Because the truth is, you don’t know him— Eddie— and he is now your husband.

Despite the circumstances, Eddie seems to be having a grand time. Beside you, fresh in his sharpest clothes and finest jewelry, he sips on his nth glass of wine, loudly laughing at the room's commotion before you. They’ve been entertaining you for hours now. Hours of singing, dancing, and jesting all to appease you, yet you haven’t cracked a single smile.

Eddie sees it. He glances at you and smiles to himself, dark eyes shimmering beneath golden light as he finishes his chalice. He raises the cup, a silent order for more, and you swallow hard, wary of what’s to come with a drunk husband on the first night.

You’ve heard the stories women tell of their first night. You’ve heard the horrors of the pain and dread their men put them through, and it’s sure to say that wine doesn’t help the case— it never does. 

As you prepare for the doom of your evening (assuming it’s yet to happen), you hardly notice the cup-bearer filling your husband's chalice to the brim. You expect Eddie to begin sipping on the fine wine, but you’re proven wrong when the cup is brought down and held steady in front of you.

You look at the cup, shiny gold with twinkling jewels embedded in the sides, rich red sloshing up the walls, spilling over the edges, and snaking around his bruised knuckles. You drag your gaze up the arm holding the cup, decorated fingers, and storytelling ink on the skin that belongs to him. Eddie quirks up an eyebrow, watching you with such precision that it makes your blood run cold.

“A lady doesn’t drink.” You say.

Eddie grins, light dancing in his eyes as he says, “No? How come?”

You straighten in your chair, dragging in a slow breath as you tip your chin up, “It is not of a lady’s nature to drink such poison.”

Eddie’s face stretches in amusement, “Poison?” He hums. He retracts the cup, bringing it to his lips, but he waits as he adds, “You have never drank wine, then?” He snickers. The boom of the crowd seems to drown out as you glare at your husband, watching as he takes a sip, playful humor still painted across his face. You find nothing funny.

“Wine distorts the mind.”

Eddie sighs, loud and heavy, as he shifts in his chair, turning to look out into the crowd, “Wine tastes good, princess. You’re too rich to deprive yourself of such luxury.”

“Dull thinking is a luxury?” You question.

You’re testing the waters. Asking the questions that will ultimately let you know just what kind of a man your husband is— as if the stench of death from earlier wasn’t enough.

“It is when you’ve seen the things I’ve seen.” He responds.

You assume he means the sight of his enemy's severed heads. The sea of bodies and blood he’s sailed upon. All of which are his doing. You can’t find it in yourself to be sympathetic to him, no matter how hard you try.

Eddie sighs again, sinking into his seat as he taps a ring against the gold cup, “You know, wine might make it better for you.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confusion etched in your voice when you look at him with a tip of your head, “What?”

Eddie speaks with a grin around the rim of his chalice, eyes dancing across the dining hall as he says, “Wine makes it better,” he repeats, his eyes finally landing on you as he adds, “Numbs the pain for your cute little cunt.” 

You’re stunned by his words, disgusted and shocked by such crass words as he casually sips his wine. “Have you no manners?” You stress.

Eddie doesn’t respond; he ignores you as he studies you. He adds, “You’re a tiny little thing. I reckon you would have your fill within less than a cup.” You open your mouth to respond, maybe throw some choice words his way, but he beats you to it, “I’m quite big, you know? I’m sure you have heard the stories. You’ll be smart to prepare for it.” He shifts in his seat, hips tilting up just enough to tell you what he’s talking about.

“I will do no such thing.” You quip.

Eddie shrugs with a snicker and a smack of his lips, speaking against the cup as he eyes you, “I’ll go slow then.” He says with a wink.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, an echoing bang of doom resounding in the walls of your skull as his words sink in. It doesn’t help any better when the infamous bedding ceremony music starts up, the men in the room cheering along to the song as they begin making their way to you.

Your nails dig into the palms of your hands, blood sure to rise as your heart races. The bedding ceremony, while for your guests means the nearing end of the celebration, only represents the beginning of the end for you. Your night has only just begun.

The men will carry you away, grab at your clothes, and cheer as they lead you to your bed chambers, and Eddie will soon follow suit with women grappling at his clothes as well, preparing you both for what’s to come behind closed doors.

If you’re lucky, the men will grant you the decency of keeping your chemise on. But even still, that will soon come off as well. You won’t win either way.

Eddie leans in, the sour stench of alcohol seeping from him as he speaks, “Looks like it’s time, princess,” he teases, a white smirk haunting you before you’re hauled up from your seat, a yelp leaving your lips as the men lift you above their heads.

Rough hands and drunken fingers prod at every inch of your body, a song you’ve heard many times before wafting through the air— you still don’t find the joy in it. You always thought the bedding ceremony was a bit unfair. The women were never as ruthless to the groom as the men were to the bride. You’ve seen more than you’d like to admit— and you never wanted to be on the performing side, yet here you are.

You catch sight of Eddie as the dining hall doors open to carry you away. You see the heavy gaze of his eyes on you, an unspoken threat to the men carrying you lingering through the air— harm her, and it’ll be the last thing you do. 

You’d be a fool to think he cared.

Cheerful singing booms down the halls as they tear off pieces of your gown and corset, leaving a trail of innocence through the castle. It’s not long before you’re tossed onto the bed of your chambers, white chemise still covering you, the men still cheering as they leave you alone in the vast room, echoes of the celebration playing harmony to your racing thoughts.

You scramble up from your bed the second the doors close, reaching out for the thin robe that rests on a chair across the room. You pace for what seems like hours, talking yourself down in preparation for what’s to come. To aid you in preparation, you find yourself sitting at your vanity, candlelight illuminating the mirror so you can see as you freshen up— because although you’re not exactly excited, you still (annoyingly so) want to look appeasing for Eddie. You want to fulfill his desires. You will be a failed wife if you don’t.

You find yourself growing worried when time grows longer with no sign of Eddie, and the sounds of the celebration seem to be dying down. You can’t imagine where he’s gone. Maybe he wanted to drink more. Maybe he doesn’t want you— you’re unsure if that hurts or relieves your ego.

Before you can decide to leave and look for him, the heavy doors to your chambers slide open, light seeping into the dim room as your husband steps in. You catch his eye through the mirror before facing him, standing from the worn bench and clenching your fists as you ask, “Where have you been?”

Eddie, ever the dark looming tower he is, steps further into the room, steps echoing in the silence. He’s fully dressed, not a piece of attire missing from his frame, so you suppose the women didn’t drag him here like the men did you. Had something wrong happened?

“Miss me already, wife?”

You grimace, rolling your eyes as you turn back to your vanity, “Hardly so.” You mutter.

A few moments of silence pass before Eddie speaks, “I had a conversation with your lady-in-waiting.”

Your face twists in confusion, chills dancing up your arms at the breeze that blows in through your open balcony doors. “Robin?” You question.

With his back turned to you from across the room, Eddie removes his cloak, draping it across the couch in front of the fireplace. He doesn’t look at you as he walks around the furniture, responding with a smooth voice, “If that is her name, then yes.”

He sits, busying himself with unbuttoning the chest of his shirt.

“Why?” You ask.

It’s not usual for men to speak with the ladies in waiting. There is nothing for them to discuss, really. But Eddie surprises you when he responds, voice steady yet still indirect towards you, “I wanted to know you.”

Suddenly, you find yourself making a journey across the room to stand before Eddie. The light that the candles cast upon Eddie is beautiful, and his eyes glow when they lift to gaze upon you, fingers still busy with buttons and strings. He is handsome and dark, and he is now yours.

“You kept me waiting.”

“And I am sorry.” He admits.

You don’t know why, but you’re left speechless by the apology that rolls off his tongue. From the stories, Eddie is not one to apologize for much of anything, and you expect he would carry the same traits as a husband. Apparently not.

Eddie stands then, tall and broad in nature— intimidating to most, but his eyes are soft and sincere as he looks down at you. You find your feet stuck where you stand, expecting him to reach and touch you, to initiate the big finale, but he never does.

“I want to apologize for my behavior at the feast,” He begins, “That was no way to speak to a lady, let alone my wife. May you forgive me as I am only now learning to be a husband.”

The Eddie before you now is a different Eddie than you had seen at the dining table. Where he had once looked upon you with lustful and roguish eyes, he now looks at you with sincerity. A softness you would’ve never thought could come from a man like him.

“What did she tell you?” You ask.

His mouth twitches, and if you’re not mistaken, you might’ve thought he wanted to smile.

“She told me you like to garden.” He says. “Your favorite flower is the Middlemist Red. You spend a pretty penny each season to import them from Cathay.”

You smile with your eyes, lips pressed into a line, shying away when he finally cracks and lets his lips tip upon the sight of you. “I do. They are beautiful.” You respond.

Eddie nods once, “You will have to show me, then.”

You nod silently. And Eddie doesn’t seem to want to take the initiative, so you take the first step, reaching forward with shaky hands to finish the buttons of his shirt.

You’re too focused on the task; you don’t notice how Eddie looks at you until his warm hands cover yours. His hands are rough and calloused from days of fighting and hours of work, and you don’t know whether the bumps on your skin rise from his touch or the breeze. 

Dark pools of swirling mud sear into you, so kind around the edges that it makes your breath hitch in your throat. Eddie squeezes your hands in his palms, no sense of insincerity as he untangles your fingers from his shirt and says, “Not tonight.”

And for some reason, your heart drops.

You blink at him, confusion flashing across your face for a split second before you mask it. “You do not want to?” You ask, a tremble of worry you so desperately want to bat away dancing around the edges

Eddie’s thumbs drag over the bumps of your knuckles, “You mistake my words.” He says, “I… I do, but I can’t. I won’t.” He shakes his head.

You frown, a feeling of rejection looming over your head as you look at your husband. “Why?” You ask.

He relaxes, shoulders weighed down with the earth as his thumbs drag to press into your palms. Soothing and grounding, yet overwhelming for the moment.

“You’re shaking, my love.” He points out.

Your gaze drops to your hands, heart racing as you realize— yes, you are shaking. Visibly so.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowing as you reply, “It is only excitement.”

You’re not sure why you’re doing this. You would’ve leaped for joy an hour ago had Eddie turned you away, yet you can’t help but find yourself fighting for him to say yes. A part of you doesn’t want to be seen as a failure in the eyes of your counsel if they find out you couldn’t consummate your marriage. And another part of you— a very small yet loud part of you— just… wants him.

He is handsome; that part was never a lie, even in the stories. It isn’t hard to feel different forms of frustration when it comes to him. And well, you’d be lying if you said you’re not curious to find out what it feels like.

Eddie laughs softly, gently dropping your hands before turning away and grabbing his cloak, “I know when a lady is excited, my lady.” He admits. You hate the green serpent of jealousy that hisses in your chest.

You ignore the unwelcome feeling when he turns back to you, eyes still profound as they fall upon you, “And I also know when someone is scared.” He lowly says.

“I won’t have you when you are afraid of me.”

You gaze up at him, fingers curling around the long sleeves of your robe as you gather your strength. “I am not afraid of you.” And you’re not. You’re more so… reluctant of him— unsure of the extent of his morality in the throes of power. But standing before you, you can see he has no intentions to hurt you.

He looks at you as if he’s studying you. Pretty, dark lashes fluttering beneath the movement of his eyes, and you think you see the grip on his cloak tighten for a moment. “You deserve better for your first, princess. Someone soft. Someone whose hands haven’t touched the face of death.”

And he’s right. His reasoning is so right it may be wrong, and you begin to feel sorry for thinking so ill of him at the start of the night. He is trying now, and that is already more than what most receive. 

How much of it is true?

You don’t think much before reaching out and curling your fingers into the cloak on his arm, eyes never leaving his as you step closer, tilting your chin up to size him. “You are my husband now, and I am your wife.” You say, removing the heavy cloak from his hold.

“So long as you are mine and I am yours, we will have no other.”

And something in Eddie’s gaze churns.

Like your words have altered something within him— opened a portal to something you have yet to experience in him.

“I won’t fuck you.” He replies.

Your gaze challenges his, and you don’t think before dropping his cloak to the ground to press your palms against his chest. Two steps and the back of his knees hit the couch, legs buckling beneath him and forcing him to drop onto the plush seat. 

You grasp at your robe and chemise, hiking the thin material up as you gently mount Eddie’s lap, nerves be damned.

Eddie’s hands hover at your hips, but he doesn’t touch you, resistance swimming in his eyes as he gazes up at you. You settle over him, bare thighs touching the rough material of his breeches, your centers ghosting over one another as you lean over him.

“Then I will fuck you.”

He is so articulated with his eyes, bright in the words that refuse to roll off his tongue, and you know you have him caught now.

You lower yourself onto him, shifting your center over his growing bulge, and your body preens at the shaky breath that leaves him. You rest a hand on the back of the seat, nails digging into the stiff material as your other hand settles on the curve of his jaw.

You hadn’t kissed since the ceremony hours earlier when you were still brewing with anger and misfortune— but now, with Eddie’s wide eyes watching you and the brewing heat of pleasure that comes with every drag of your hips, you can’t help but find yourself wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

Eddie, seemingly keeping true to his word, does not show any signs of acting on the intense pull between you, so you take it upon yourself to lower your lips onto his.

He is soft, bittersweet with the taste of wine on his tongue, but it only makes you want more.

You lean into him, body pressing against him as he kisses you back, lips moving in tandem with yours as his hands finally— and hesitantly— touch you.

They leave trails of fire up your skin, coasting up your sides and back, gentle yet firm as he holds the back of your neck and presses into you.

Your hips are steady in movement against his, seeking pleasure with every roll until you can no longer hold back the moan that spills from you. Eddie breathes heavily against your lips when you part, blown eyes focused on you as you crumble beneath the weight of pleasure, chasing that twisting feeling of heat.

He keeps one hand on your neck as the other travels down the expanse of your body, fluid and malleable with the dips and rises of your body. He lands on your hip, gentle fingers pressed against your skin as he follows the flow of your motion. He doesn’t try to take charge, doesn’t dig his fingers into your skin to move you against him in the ways he wants you to, but he’s there.

He is gentle in his guidance, delicate in the way he lets you use him— and he is a sight.

Flushed cheeks and blown eyes, bated breaths, and shaky grasps of restraint. He is war and the solemn peace that comes after.

You want more.

You move in hopes of searching for the ties of his breeches, but he stops you faster than you can move, shaking his head as he speaks with heavy breaths, “Cum like this. Keep going.”

You whimper, hips never having stopped their pace as the pleasure threatens to spill over the edges. It’s an all-encompassing feeling, having Eddie beneath you and encouraging you as you rut up against him, needy to feel that explosion of fire.

It doesn’t take much longer, not with the way Eddie leans up to press soft, fluttery kisses beneath your chin, and you find yourself falling into the abyss of satisfaction, moans and whimpers seeping from you like loose change.

The room seems to spin, candlelight and heat searing through you as you come to, legs shaking on either side of him. But you’re not done.

You kiss him, wet and heavy and needy. Less calculated than the others yet outdoing them by miles.

“Take me to bed,” you pant against his lips, “If you do nothing, do this one thing and take me to our bed.” You say, fingers curled into the soft material of his collar. 

There is a slight edge of reprimand in your words, a taunting lilt— if you don’t want to fuck your wife like a man, the least you can do is carry her to bed— it’s so mean. Yet, it does the job.

Eddie's eyes grow dim, an untamed beast growling to wake in his chest before he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he stands. You are caught in his gaze, chest still rising with bated breaths as he walks away from the couch and towards the bed. 

“Our bed?” He lowly huffs. 

“Against my wishes, yes.”

Your fingers sink into his nicely pulled-back hair, searching for the tie to tug and loosen. His hair falls like a flower in spring, blooming with the dark riches of the earth, orange fire framing his mane of curls. He is beautiful and devastating.

You drop the string, careless where it falls as you run your hands through the soft strands.

Despite the fire radiating through Eddie, he lowers you onto the bed softly, handling you as if you’re a gem, and you squirm when you find yourself missing the heat of him as he stands at the foot of the bed.

He stands before you, tall and brooding, as he untucks his shirt from his breeches, slinking his arms out from the sleeves and letting the thin material drop. 

The reveal of his body is earth-shattering. Mind-numbing. The feeling of awe that overtakes you when you wake up just in time to see how the sun kisses the sea and melts the glass waters. 

He is violent. Sharp and merciless to the mind, a living depiction of the growing demise of the world.

But he is also radiant. Imperfect like a mine of gold, jagged around the edges with cuts and scars that run deeper than you’ll ever know. Inked stories pressed into his skin, thick lines running across his ribs and slithering to his back, hours of pain spent to capture a moment. 

He is so devastatingly beautiful.

The world grows dull in your ears; you hear nothing but the crackling snap of the candles that light the room and the uneven breaths that expel from your chest. Eddie looks at you, steady and calculated, watching you as if hunting you— and you don’t know why, but you find yourself reaching for him.

Your fingers are colder than his body when they touch him, soft tips grazing the sewn skin of his torso, and you leave trails of bumps in their wake as you dance over his skin.

Eddie’s skin is warm beneath your lips, and the steady thump of his heart is so vivid you can almost taste it through the layers of skin, blood, and bone. You gently caress what you can touch, thumbs sliding over raised skin that had once been broken, lips following suit with gentle pecks to each one until Eddie raises his hands to cup your face.

His lips are on yours like hot metal meeting water, sizzling fire and bursting in color. It’s addicting, kissing him. You don’t want to stop.

He presses into you, pushing you back until you’re laid against the bed, steady on your elbows as his ringed hands coast up your legs. So gentle in tow, rough in comparison to your soft skin as they push your gown further up your thighs. The air is cool between your legs, chills dancing up your spine until you shiver and pant against his lips.

Eddie then parts from you, dragging in air like he is greedy for it. His gaze dances over your body as he drags a hand over his mouth, looking at you in seemingly deep thought. He swallows, his resolve loose as the seconds pass before he finally speaks— “Need to be wet.”

Your face twists in confusion, the sheets twisting in your grip as you gaze up at him, “What?”

Eddie sinks to his knees, wordlessly dragging his hands over your thighs as he grumbles, “You need to be wet.” His hands coast up your legs, pushing your chemise up over your hips until you are bare to his eyes. “Wetter than this.” His gaze is hungry yet appreciative, drinking you in as if he will never get another chance to— if he will, you’re not sure. Your face is warm, blooming with shock, and a churning heat that settles in your stomach. 

And you have never had a man kneel before you. You are of high rank, yes, but you are no queen. Neither are you a lord. The people don’t bend a knee to your honor as often as they do to your father, and though you never really understood why men puffed their chest out so high and mighty upon the gesture, you think you understand now as you watch Eddie sink to the floor.

It’s humbling, seeing such a man of his stature relinquish his pride to rest before your feet, and it only gets better when he parts your thighs and leans forward to pepper wet and warm kisses to the insides of your thighs.

You’re shaking already, fists curling into the plush sheets of the bed, chest heaving in ecstasy. The feeling of Eddie’s curls brushing against your thighs makes you tremble, a smile threatening to pull on your lips at the sensation. His lashes flutter as he moves forward, a sense of shock overtaking your body as he pushes his face into the hilt of your cunt, nose pressed to the neatly trimmed hairs of your pelvis before breathing in deep. You whimper, squirming beneath his hold as he noses at you, breathing you in like you’re the last draw of air his lungs will ever receive.

“You smell divine.” He grumbles, voice thick with lust.

You breathe, teeth sharp against the inside of your cheek as you gaze at him with wide eyes, “T-thank you…” Your words fall off in a moan as he drags his tongue against you, through your folds and wetness, humming as if he hadn’t had his fill from the feast.

He leans in more, hooking an arm around your thigh to pull you in before completely devouring you. You can hardly keep your composure, licks of fire running through your veins in pulses as you quiver on Eddie’s tongue. Your vision wavers, eyes fluttering shut as your head tips back, mouth parted in desperate moans as you struggle to keep yourself open for him.

He groans against you, palm heavy on your tummy as the other hand reaches up to drag a thumb over your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he says against you, “Look at me.”

It takes everything in you to do so, but you manage, tilting your head back down to look at the man between your thighs.

“I want you to watch.”

Gods— you’re not sure if the air has been sucked out of the room, or you’re just that speechless. But you have no time to figure it out because Eddie is back to licking and sucking at you like his life depends on it. Like you are his last meal on earth. Like your cunt is the fountain of life and he’s spent years searching for it.

You are his altar, his god, and he is your loyal disciple.

The familiar feeling of pressure builds quicker this time, and your grasp on restraint is little to none, so Eddie can feel it when you’re close. He is cruel when he parts from you. A slick, wet sound and a string of spit come with his withdrawal, and it makes your face burn.

You had forgotten how great Eddie is in size with his position beneath you, but you’re reminded when he stands to his full height. You can’t help but watch with hungry eyes as his hands drop to the waist of his breeches, skilled fingers quickly unlacing the ties. 

He is an encapturing scene to watch, his muscles flexing with each movement, stories coming to life with each twist— and you almost become too distracted with it to notice the unveiling of his cock.

But you can not ignore it for long because Eddie… is big.

He had told you so at the feast, and you had taken it with a grain of salt. However, this is no grain of salt before you. This is—

“It’s not as frightening as it looks.”

Your eyes snap to his, wide and no doubt doing nothing to mask your shock. “Well, that is easy for you to say.” You respond.

And for the first time, a genuine laugh spills from Eddie. It’s warming to hear it, a sound that could— arguably— put the mourning doves to shame. And you think you might see little carves of sun in his cheeks. A strong juxtaposition for someone like him to carry an angel's kiss within his smile, yet incredibly appreciative.

He rids himself fully of his trousers, shoes already off, as he kicks them to the side. He is a force of nature as he towers over you, gentle hands brushing against your skin when he cups your face. But he doesn’t take action. No, instead, he steps away and walks towards the side of the bed, climbing up to lay against your pillows.

You watch over your shoulder before turning to him, face twisted in confusion as you ask, “What are you doing?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

You look at him for a moment, a long moment— his thick cock the only thing giving away the state of his desire, which apparently, is enough for you to turn and crawl your way over to him.

You frown as you swing your leg over him to straddle his lap, an annoyed tone in your voice when you speak. “This is wrong, you know?” You huff as you unbutton your chemise.

Eddie watches silently from beneath you, eyes failing to stay trained on your face when you begin to untie the neck of your chemise.

“You are supposed to fuck me. Worship me and show me that you want me.” You grumble as you fully open your chemise, your body on full display.

Between you, Eddie drags a slow fist up his cock, his tip ruddy and wet with excitement. A thrum of shock and sick pleasure twists through your body when he lightly taps his cock against your lower tummy, “Not proof enough for you, princess? Or are you just being greedy?” He teases with a tilt of his head.

Your heart races at the sight— Eddie pressed into your pillows, hair fanned out beneath him, his bare and scarred chest pink beneath your touch as his cock begs to be touched. Your core aches at the sight of him between your thighs, your fingers taking his place as you wrap them around his cock— and he is so warm. So thick and full of weight between your fingers, you can’t help but look up and ask— “Will it hurt as you said?”

Eddie gazes at you, never having stopped, brown eyes blown with desire. He can hear it, the slight tinge of fear in your voice. A warm hand resides beneath your open chemise and rests against your hip, a gentle thumb caressing your hot skin. “I licked you for a reason.”

Though lewd, it does well to ease your nerves. You find the tension in your shoulders lessen, and you hardly pay any mind as you wriggle closer to Eddie, softly sighing when you feel the heat of him. 

It makes your body ache.

He is heavy in your palm as you press him against your core, the soft tip tapping the aching bud of your clit. Your body writhes at the feeling, thighs parting further for him. His grip tightens on your waist, his gaze falling to watch as you paint his tip through your folds and down to your entrance.

You suck in a breath, toes curling in anticipation before you sink onto him. It’s an odd feeling at first, something more like a foreign pressure than pain, but the further you sink down, the more the heat rises and the burn of the stretch eats away at you. Below you, Eddie curses, his head dropping when you pulse around him. You pull in a sharp breath, thighs threatening to close as the first wave of pain washes through you. Eddie returns to reality quickly, looking up at you as he reaches out to pull you forward, cooing at you soft and sweetly, “You’re doing so good. So fucking well, princess. Just relax.”

You try your best, taking steady breaths as you continue to wriggle down into him, but by the time he is pressed to the hilt, you hardly have control over the breathless pants leaving your throat. “I— it’s big. It’s so big,” You shakily breathe. 

His lips are warm against your forehead, pressing soft, warm kisses as you flutter around his cock, the burn slowly but surely becoming bearable. Your hips squirm against him and he hums, praising you and caressing every inch of you whilst making no effort to make you move. 

You don’t know how long you stay seated on his cock, but you can feel yourself stretched to the brim with him and suddenly you want nothing more than to feel it move within you. With your palms pressed into the pillows beside Eddie’s head, you find stability on your palms and knees before dragging your hips up, slow and steady— and your vision goes white.

It is indescribable, the feeling of Eddie’s cock pressed so snugly against your wet walls, the feeling of him dragging through you slow enough for you to still feel the lingering burn mixed with that dull tease of pleasure. And you can feel Eddie physically holding back. Can see it swimming in his eyes when he looks up at you.

He wants to ravish you.

He wants to push himself into you so deep you won’t know where he ends and you begin.

He is a brooding force of desire and lust and power, and he could very well do it within the blink of an eye, yet… he doesn’t.

He stays beneath you, hands shaking with impulse as they drag up your sides to softly cup your breasts. His chest rises and falls shakily, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he lets you drag your cunt up and down his length.

He watches your body move, eyes seemingly overwhelmed with where to focus— and you don’t even think he meant for you to hear it when he says, “You are so beautiful.”

You whimper at his admission, head lolling back as you sink down onto him again and again. He kisses your neck, wet and hungry, and your body keens when he wraps his lips around your pert nipple, rough thumb dragging over the other, “Such pretty tits. All mine now.” He mutters.

“Is it—” You can hardly breathe when you fully sink onto him again, it feels like his cock is lodged between your lungs, but god it’s so good. “Is it g-good for you?” You ask.

His hands tighten on your hips, face twisting in pleasure for just a moment before he grunts out a response— “Fuck. Yeah, yeah, keep going.” His voice is low and rough and it sends shivers up your spine as you grind your hips into his. “Is it good for you?” He asks. 

Your mind goes blank for a moment— you hadn’t imagined he’d care, not when he’s so vividly troubled between the throes of his pleasure and the fight to sustain his composure. You drop onto him, harder than before, your cunt fluttering around him as you whimper in pleasure and respond, “Yes.”

He smiles at the action, his cock pulsing within you at the sound of your bliss. You do it again, this time both of your resolves cracking, a broken moan slipping from you as Eddie grunts, fingers digging crescent moons into your skin. 

You lean over him and press a hand to his jaw, a thumb dragging across his lips as your breath hitches, watery eyes gazing into his as the stretch burns through your hips and thighs. Your face twists in a mix of unrecognizable pleasure, a mix of pain and fear, but overall— “Show me.”— curiosity. 

How does Eddie want? How does Eddie need? Is he greedy? Rough? Angry? Or is he soft and kind— just like this?

The clench of his hands on your waist says otherwise.

Eddie shakes his head, jaw clenching as you drag his cock out of your wet, warm heat, just the tip caught in your pulsing entrance as your body shudders at the feeling. You sink back onto him, veins running against your velvet walls as you shakily breathe, “Show me, Eddie.” You say again, your other hand sinks into his hair, nails dragging against his scalp.

“I want to know what you like—” “It isn’t kind.”

Your heart races then— will he hurt you? Will he beat you like you’ve heard other women whisper about their own husbands. A feeling churns in the pit of your stomach, his rough hand dragging over your chest to palm at your breast.

“...Show me.”

Earth, dark and rich, pools swirling with lust as they gaze at you. Eddie’s chest is like restless waters beneath your palms— rising and falling— the beast gnashing its teeth, hungry for something between its jaws.

You give yourself right into him. Placing your gentle nature amongst his riot— you’re unsure if you’ll thank yourself or hate yourself later.

Eddie presses his feet onto your bed, fingers tight on your waist as his hips press into you— as if he could get any deeper than he already is. If he could, you think you would die. Your moan breaks around a sob, one hand grappling to hold one of his as your other curls against his chest and your head falls, your knees digging into Eddie’s sides.

One pull out and one push in— hard and fast— it has you seeing stars. He knocks the breath out of you, his cock so wide and deep in you that you fear you’ll be feeling him for days after this. You don’t care enough to be embarrassed about how much you're gushing around him, or the jumbled moans and words that tumble from your mouth with each punishing thrust. 

Eddie groans beneath you, fingers tight on your hips as he picks you up and drops you on his cock like you’re nothing but a toy. He’s punching out staccato moans from you, that beast thrashing in his chains— so close to freedom and yet…

“Fucking cunt’s sucking me in like I paid you for it— shit.” Eddie curses, briefly letting his head drop onto your pillows before easing back up to watch where he pounds up into you. You whimper, an annoying warm twist in your belly from his words despite the disgust that tumbles from your tongue— “As if I’d ever take your money.”

Eddie’s brown eyes snap up to yours, a growl rumbling deep in his chest before he slinks a hand up your body and around your neck. He squeezes, hard enough to have your toes curl and your nails dig into his chest. He drags you down, hovering your face above his as he drills into you, his other hand grabbing a handful of your ass to help him bounce you on his cock. “You can act as if you are above me all you want, princess,” He pants against your lips, fingers tight on your neck, “But who’s cock are you about to come on, hm?” He lowly asks.

Fuck.

You aren’t sure if your lungs exist anymore. You think there might just be a big, gaping hole in your body— an empty space where Eddie’s cock has carved its way into. Because you can not breathe when you fall apart above Eddie.

You can hardly see or think. You definitely can’t speak. And beneath you, Eddie hums as if he’s some sort of demon and he’s satisfied now that your soul has left your body.

You are speechless from the overwhelming feeling of bliss, and it intensifies when Eddie hits his peak, emptying himself into you with moans so beautiful you would call anything else that reaches your ears after this a disgrace. 

It’s warm, the feeling of his cum seeping into you, and it makes your body feel as if it’s boiling, but you sink into it either way, chasing the filling sensation that erupts within you.

Beneath you, though he had just defiled your body and had nearly strangled you, Eddie is spewing out soft words in appreciation, promises of keeping you forever, making a home, keeping you round and full with his babies. If you had known better, and you do, you would say he is drunk on the feeling. You think you might be as well.

And if the feeling only exists in this room— where Eddie holds you like you’re the last piece of soul he has on earth, where he is warm and throbbing inside of you and you can almost swear you share one set of lungs— then you never want to leave.

Morning light comes quicker than you had hoped. 

After a night spent with incessant writhing as Eddie plowed into you more times than you could care to count, you wake with an aching body and a soft pull of a shy smile threatening your lips. 

Between your thighs, you ache, but it is somewhat of a welcomed feeling knowing where it came from. The breeze of warm ocean-scented air drifts through your chambers like a song, and the sheets are soft against your skin as you stretch your sleep-weighted limbs.

Flashes of yesterday come to you with each moment you spend waking. Anger and frustration, worry of what the next chapter brings, betrayal of having to give your hand to another as you came to terms with the fact that your hand was never yours to begin with. You were always a pawn in the game. You were naive to think otherwise.

Understanding and acceptance, opening your world to the favors of the man who is now your husband. Desire and lust and the bittersweet fruits of passion. It comes crashing down on you like a rogue wave.

You are a wife now. You no longer only live for yourself but for and with another as well— and it is jarring to try and understand.

Still, you are thankful Eddie seems to be… less than what he is known to be. Maybe he is more than what is believed— of course, in the sense that he is not some monstrous being that lives and breathes to destroy everything in its path.

He is not easy to read yet, no, that will come with time. But you are hopeful in the sense that you believe you may be able to live with him without hating all you have become.

And anyway, now that you have fully acknowledged yesterday and the fact that you are now married, you wonder— where is your husband?

You leave bed, limbs cracking and popping at the stretch as you throw your chemise over your naked body. You shrug a robe over for the sake of your decency and slip your feet into the nearest pair of silk slippers, shuffling over to the door. Your hand settles on the doorknob before the door swings open, barely missing you.

Eddie steps in, brown eyes roving over you as you gaze at him in slight shock from his abrupt entrance. His eyes drop to your chest, the soft material of your robe having opened when you stepped back to give him space. You cover yourself, face heating in embarrassment as you clear your throat.

Eddie blinks, stepping further into the room to let the door close, “Pack your things; we leave for Ironhold tonight.”

Your face twists in confusion as you step away, furthering your distance from him, “What? Why?”

Eddie lowly huffs, turning away and pacing towards your dresser, yanking a drawer open, “I don’t know if you noticed, but your father is on the brink of war.” He grumbles as he pulls out various articles of your clothing. You march over to him, grabbing your clothes from his hands and stuffing them back into the drawer before slamming it closed. “Why do I have to go?” You frown. Eddie turns to you and looks at you as if you’re a pain in his ass— you want nothing more than to slap the look off his face.

“Because the council demanded I bring you.”

Your chest brews with a strong sense of annoyance— your father’s council has always found ways to prod and poke at your peace. And have they not done enough within the last day?

You hardly realize you’re pacing out of your room, quick strides carrying you down the wide hallways, ignoring the greetings of maids because how can you think straight when you have just been ordered to leave your home?

The knights at the door of the council chamber don’t ask why you’re there; the fury in your steps says enough to make them drag the heavy doors open.

“I won’t go.”

The councilmen are no strangers to your sharp tongue. Since you were a child, you were never one to willingly bend to their absurd demands— you want me to do this? Then you do this— and they hate it.

The meeting has yet to finish; they are all seated, seemingly still in conversation— but you don’t care, your gaze set on your father— the man at the center of it all. He drags in a breath, shifting in his seat; the slow tap of his finger against the table shows his patience with you— you have never given him an easy day in your life, and he knows your anger best. Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to respond, “You will go.”

You step further into the room, passing the council members to stand at your father's side, the heavy, stone table cold beneath your palms when you lean down to face him. “I will have nothing to do with your corrupt and murderous war.” You sneer.

Across the table, a councilman who is watching the entire interaction barks out a laugh, “My lady, you lost that choice when you married him.”

Your body burns hot and red, frustration pumping through you in riveting waves— that was not your fault. “That was against my wishes. You forced my hand.” You remind them all.

“So you say,” Your father says with a dismissive tone. He taps against the table again, “You owe a service to your country—” “I owe a service to our people. Not your politics.” You snap.

“I will not go.” You slowly repeat.

Your father’s gaze is bothered and bored when he looks at you; a long pause of silence before he speaks, “You are married now. You go where your husband goes—” he lifts a finger to silence you when you try to talk, “You will accompany him in solidarity, and you will provide him the love and care of a good wife— do not forget that he is helping us. He is helping our country— your people.” He mocks your last words. “You will go with him if it is to be the last thing you ever do, am I understood?”

The room, though physically quiet, is loud in suffocating domination. You gaze at the stone table. You remember when you were a child and sat on your father’s knee, here in the council chamber, and you wanted nothing more than to fill his space when you grew older. You know now that his chair was crafted for no one but him.

Your voice is stern when you speak again, “I am not a mercenary.” 

The councilman speaks again, “No, but you are a woman— a wife now. This is now your assignment.”

You stared at your chamber door for some time— how long, you’re not sure, but you feel the heat of your anger as if it’s been there for years. You are no longer your own. You’re now the property of the council, told what to do and expected to follow through with no complaints, and this is only the second time you have felt it hit full force— the first being the second a ring was slipped onto your finger.

You’re being pulled away from your home now, the place you know best, the place that has kept you safe, healthy, and free. The place you’ve grown to love and know— you’re being ripped away from it and it fuels the fire within you.

You pack your things with angry hands, grabbing clothes and necessities and tossing them onto your bed in a disordered manner. Robin steps in just after noon, eyes widening when she sees the heap of clothes on your bed.

“They’re forcing me to go with him.” You huff.

Robin walks towards you where you angrily fold your clothes, stuffing them into bags with an angry scowl. Robin places a hand on your arm, a gentle suggestion to let her take over.

You huff and step away, turning towards the window of your room facing out towards your city's port. “As I have heard,” Robin softly says as she begins folding your things, “I will be with you the whole way.” She tries to comfort you. It’s kind, and although it does ease you a little bit, it’s not enough to put out the burning embers in your gut.

Out in the port, you watch as Eddie’s men prepare the ships, hauling heavy crates of goods and weapons onto the deck. Eddie is there too, on the deck of the biggest ship, pushing crates and barking orders, telling them where to put containers and what shipments go on which boat. He commands like it’s second nature. Hardly thinking about it as he flicks his wrist to gesture towards a ship, never having to repeat an order twice because his men hear him, and they obey him.

You grimace at the sight of him, annoyed that you’re about to be stuck on a ship for him for at least two weeks.

“He is insufferable, Robin.” You grumble, eyes trained on him down at the port.

“One moment he is sincere and kind and the next minute he is the complete opposite. You should have seen him last night,” you say, briefly turning to look at her, “He was like a shapeshifter. And to think I’m bound to him til death— gods, nothing could be worse.” You grumble.

You’re brewing in silent anger, watching the chaos from above as Robin softly sighs.

“I wish he would just disappear.” You softly whisper.

And you do… you think. The only good thing Eddie has brought you was quivering legs and a few purple bruises between your thighs. 

Robin drags in a deep breath as she walks over to you, her shoulder touching yours as you both gaze out into the port. “It will get better, I’m sure, my lady.” She softly says.

Eddie’s ship is not what you had imagined it to be.

In stories and word of mouth, the Lord of Death sails on ships made of bones and steel, with a putrid scent of burning flesh and echoing screams of torture to complete it.

It’s terrifying to imagine. Appalling to hear and nearly impossible not to gasp at, but somehow, the moment you stepped onto the ship, no overwhelming sense of death hit you. Instead, you were greeted with curt nods and quick, warm hellos— surprisingly good hospitality seeing as the men you’ll be stuck with are brooding with rage and a thirst for blood.

Eddie’s quarters are adequate. Where Eddie has a character that exudes chaos and disarray, his quarters are somewhat cleaner than you had expected.

There is a large desk to the right, books upon books stacked on the floor and shoved into the bookcase on the wall behind it. There’s not much room, so aside from the desk and the books, there’s a sofa that rests beneath the window and a bed off to the left of the room. It’s a shameful sight of a bed, but it is now your reality.

Upon boarding this ship, you were under the impression that you would be sleeping somewhere else given the unfortunate circumstances of your presence and rather strained relationship, but after a short (and exasperating) discussion, Eddie told you it would be ridiculous for you to sleep anywhere that is out of his sight on a ship full of men. So, despite your heart's desires, you begrudgingly agreed that it would be best that you just stay in the captain's quarters… with Eddie.

You are not so excited about staying with him.

Along with Robin and your few bags of clothes, Steve has also tagged along despite Eddie’s clear and strong distaste towards him and his ‘unnecessary need to protect you’ as Eddie had said it. 

“Steve goes everywhere I go; he is my guard.”

“I’ll give you a new one in Ironhold. A real one.”

Your face pinches in annoyance, “Steve is a real guard, he’s a sworn knight.” You argue. 

“He’s an amateur.” Eddie grumbles. 

“Well, I only want Steve—” “Oh, would you like to fuck him as well?” Eddie pressed. You looked at him for a moment, realizing this was not an argument of your safety, but one of possession. “Steve is coming. End of discussion.”

Because Steve is your guard. His father was your guard when you were little, and when Steve became old enough and well-crafted with a sword, he became your guard. He has never left your side since and he won’t be doing so anytime soon just because Eddie has some unspoken problem with him. Steve was the deciding factor that you would be sleeping in Eddie’s quarters, even though Eddie refrained from saying it— you can tell.

RedGate is now nowhere in sight, and the only thing you can see through the cabin window is miles of nothing but water and sky. It’s been only a few hours since you left shore, but you are already feeling the burning rocks of yearning beginning to settle within you. 

Or maybe it’s just brewing anger that’s hot within you.

Eddie’s desk is clear of papers and has been replaced with plates of warm food and bread, and across from you sits none other than your beloved husband. It is silent in the cabin, save for the humming noise of the rocking ship and the occasional clinking of Eddie’s utensils. And despite the fact that the meal looks good, you haven’t moved an inch to even try it.

Eddie takes note of this after a few bites of his dinner, glancing up at you as he chews his food, jaw prominent under work. He gestures to the table with his fork, “Are you going to sit there and stare until it rots?”

Your gaze flickers from your plate to the brown eyes watching you. They look like thick honey under the candlelight, and you hate that it stirs your insides. He nods towards the food before you, “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

As if you are a child.

“Do you enjoy telling me what to do? Is that the kind of power you seek in a union?” You prod.

Eddie looks at you, chewing his food as he drops his fork and knife on his plate to rest his fists against the table. He swallows, eyes never leaving you as he shrugs, “If you do not want to eat then—” You don’t care to let him finish before you cut him off, “Because I will warn you now, it will be easier for you to cut off your fighting arm and learn to wield a sword with your other than to tame me to be your pet.”

Honey light spills across Eddie’s face, silky smooth tendrils framing his face and casting shadows— and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips, but you don’t see well enough before his lips start moving, “I have hounds in Ironhold, I do not need a pet.”

Your eyes subtly narrow, “You’re clever.”

“And you’ll starve,” Eddie drags in a breath as he picks up his utensils again, “Eat.”

You don’t bother moving to reach for your fork and instead reply, “Shouldn’t captains eat with their crew?”

Eddie gazes at you for a long moment, letting your question hang in the air as he cuts his food— and from here, you can see why people are so afraid of him: he glares like his gaze is meant to kill.

He finally drops his gaze from you, focused on his plate, as he replies, “I am a married man now. I should dine with my wife.”

To which you can’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as you shift in your chair, “Please,” you scoff, “I thought the people of Ironhold do not follow tradition.” You say, reminding him of the conversation he had with your mother right before you left. Your mother had scolded you for being difficult about your situation as you pleaded that there was no reason for you to accompany Eddie on his journey home. 

“I’m sure you have a tradition for newlyweds in Ironhold— you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?” Your mother pointed out. To which Eddie softly laughed, “We’re not a traditional family, my lady.” 

Eddie grumbles, cutting into his food and still avoiding your gaze as he responds, “That was a lie to get your mother to relent for your and my sake. My people are built on tradition, everyone knows that.”

You watch as he eats, his words turning your head— it was almost as if he was implying your mother isn’t well-versed in her history— and she is. You relent and pick up your fork, pushing at your food before you softly say, “She’s only looking out for me.”

Eddie still does not look at you when he replies, “Good for her then.”

And Eddie’s walls are thick and tall. Indestructible from your point of view. You had hope last night, but now he is as cold as he was at the feast, if not more. And even though this is not ideal for you, it would be foolish of you to not at least try to make it work— at least for your father’s purpose. What does it take to ignite the man from yesterday?

You stare at Eddie for a moment, the candle flickering against his features. Soft and beautiful in this light, always. Your nails dig into the skin of your palms as your fists clench before you abruptly rise from your seat, “You are insufferable.” You huff, tossing your napkin on your unfinished plate and walking away towards the bed.

“If I’m so insufferable, join the fish.”

You scoff out a laugh, forcefully rearranging the pillows and blankets on the bed with a scowl on your face, “Believe me,” you huff, “I would want nothing more than to leave this god-forsaken ship. Anywhere far away from you and this vessel of death.”

Eddie laughs, a screech of his plate bouncing through the room as he replies, “I can guarantee you won’t find that place in my bed, darling.”

Gods, the smug manner of his words infuriates you. You opt to stop replying, busying yourself with getting the bed ready for your rest. Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs, “You have barely eaten, you can not go to bed.”

“I’m not bloody hungry.” You snap

“Stop being difficult.” Eddie huffs.

You manage to tune out the noise of Eddie cutting and eating his food, paying no mind as you begin to undo the laces of your dress. You focus on untying your dress, becoming frustrated when the intricate lacing does not bend to your will because— god, the dressmaker really loves to make your gowns extravagant and storytelling, but it is times like these when you curse him for such talent.

And in the frustration of your dress and your situation, you must’ve missed the tapping of Eddie’s boots on the hardwood floor, only realizing his presence when it’s too late and he presses a warm hand to your arm.

You jolt with a breath, body colliding with Eddie’s hard chest. “Let me,” He says. You shrug yourself away from him, elbow digging into his chest as you huff and continue twisting and prodding at the strings, “I don’t need your help.” You sneer.

Eddie’s hands are firm this time when he touches you, steady and demanding, and flashes of last night roll behind your eyes. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He grumbles, gentle but annoyed as he pushes your hands away. 

You give in, seeing as he is your best way out of this damned dress, and neither of you say anything as he weaves the strings in and out of one another.

His touch is a path of fire, knuckles brushing down the middle of your back, shivers splitting like roots through your bones when you feel the cool air of his breath.

So gentle and affirming, much like the touch you knew just hours ago. As quick as it comes, it goes, and the cracking sound of silence is gone with the clearing of Eddie’s throat.

“It gets cold at sea.”

You clench your jaw, teeth-gritting against one another as you step out of your dress, a loose slip keeping you modest. “Do you think I have never sailed before?”

You glance at Eddie, raising an eyebrow as you neatly fold your dress. Eddie says nothing, jaw clenching as his fingers curl towards his palm for a moment. He paces back behind his desk and sits, ignoring you as you move about the room and he continues eating. You get into the bed— it’s stiff and hard, and the sheets are nothing like the sheets you have at home— but there’s no point in complaining, is there?

You turn your back to Eddie, shutting your eyes in defiance as you try to force yourself to sleep. But… that noise. That constant noise of chewing and utensils clicking, jesus christ— “Could you eat in a quiet manner?” You snap.

You don’t turn to look at Eddie, your body still facing the wooden wall that lines your side of the bed— but you can feel his stare. It burns against your shoulders and spine, heat trickling up the back of your neck despite the cool temperatures of the room.

“This is as quiet as I can be.” He finally responds.

And god, he��s such an asshole.

“Then you’re an imbecile.” You grumble back.

Eddie hums, dragging in a breath as he continues to eat, “Not far off from you then, princess. You’re going to freeze.” He says, an etch of annoyance dancing around the edges of his voice.

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see, “I’d rather freeze to death than be stuck here with you.” You respond. 

And when you expect to get some annoying and rude response, you only get a huff of a laugh and more clinking of plates and forks. As if he doesn’t care that you’d just implied death is more welcoming than the thought of being with him. Though you can’t see him and refuse to turn to do so, you imagine a pained expression on his face— or maybe an angry one— either way, the picture paints in your mind beautifully and you let it dance there behind your eyelids until you fall into a deep sleep.

The room is dark when your eyes flutter, barely able to fully open.

It is still night, the moon bright in the window above the sofa. Eddie is gone, his desk clear of dinner and replaced with his usual stack of scrolls and books. He is not beside you; and though the extra heat would’ve been pleasant, you don’t mind his absence. The boat softly groans against the small waves, the sound pulling you back under the arms of sleep.

And just before you feel the weight of sleep covering you again, you glance down at the bed you are laying in, more blankets spread over you than you remember there being when you fell asleep. You don’t have the time to feel your face warm before your eyes shut and your body falls limp once again.

And in the morning, you refuse to eat breakfast at the table.

When Eddie was a boy, his mother drowned at sea.

He doesn’t remember much of his mother, but from the tall portraits that hang in the vast castle halls, he knows she was beautiful. 

At night, when Eddie feels the most restless, he walks the gallery and studies his mother's portraits, tries to commit as much as he can to memory, and cling to it as if she’s still here. A part of him feels guilty for forgetting his mother; what her voice sounded like, what she smelled like, what she hated, and what she loved. He remembers none of it.

Some parts of Eddie he likes to believe came from his mother. There are the physical parts; her curly hair, her brown eyes, her sharp structure. And there are the other parts, the parts from within; his intelligence, his stubbornness, his strong-willed nature. Eddie inherited them all from her.

At the passing of his mother, Eddie loathed the sea for its treacherous waters that took her from him, and he swore to always carry the resentment in him. But it is hard.

It’s hard when you spend most days of the year bending to its will. It’s hard when the sound of her swishing waves lulls him to sleep most nights. It’s hard to hate the sea when the sea is what knows him best.

He can not sleep tonight. His mind is busy with a whirlwind of thoughts; tasks that need him, things he left unfinished back home, people he needs to see, and— you. It always swings back to you.

He’s been pacing on the deck for nearly an hour now. Trekking to one side of the boat to gaze at the still and dark waters before growing bored and switching sides.

Robin interrupts his silent storm, raspy voice nearly causing him to jump when she speaks, “You do know there are people sleeping below deck, yes?”

Eddie glances over his shoulder, stares wide-eyed as if seeing a ghost, and almost believes he is considering Robin's white gown. He clears his throat, looking away and clenching his grasp on the ship's rails, “Sorry. I did not think I was loud.”

Robin huffs out a laugh, stepping up to the rails, a good distance between them but enough for him to hear over the roar of the waters, “It’s wood. Sound travels. I would assume you, as a sailor, would surely know this.”

He does, though he does not care to point it out or pay mind— again, too busy with other things.

“What troubles you?”

Eddie glances at the woman, scoffs a laugh, and shakes his head, “Nothing you could fix.”

The wind whips around them, wisps of hair brushing across Eddie’s face, salt filling his lungs. Robin hums, “Sometimes it’s nice to talk…”

Eddie thinks for a moment. Considers the waves below him, sees his mother's face in them, catches a glimpse of the rippling moon, and sees you. Hears you. Almost thinks he can feel you. He clears his throat, looking at the sky for a moment, “There’s a losing war I’m joining,” He starts, “Ironhold is starving, I owe debts I don’t think I can ever repay, and my wife— she hates me.”

It’s been six days now. Six days since you and Eddie joined hands, and you just can’t seem to see eye-to-eye. One would think with the sex being as good as it is, the resentment would lessen tenfold— but no. Days go by where you don’t even say a word to Eddie. You refuse to eat with him, you grumble when you have to sleep next to him, and on the days that you do speak to him, it’s never a kind word. 

But Eddie isn’t innocent either. He plays your game just as dirty; says sly and mean things to you, and only ever really tolerates you during the few times you’re on top or below him— hell, most hours he even goes the extra mile to make himself busy with tasks that are usually left for his crew just so he can avoid you. It’s not ideal, but it’s the only way either of you can exist without wanting to fling the other overboard.

“You avoid her.”

“There’s work to be done around here.”

Robin scoffs a laugh, “I’ve sailed many times in my life, and never once have I seen a captain scrub the deck.” She points out. “How will you get to know her when you can hardly spend a day with her?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, frustration bubbling in his chest, “I don’t want to know her. It’s better this way. Easier.” Which is true. Eddie may come off as cruel, but he’s doing this for the both of you. Keeping you at arm's length, in the long run, will make life easier for both of you.

“It doesn’t seem easier from this point of view.”

Eddie drags in a deep breath, turning to Robin, “It doesn’t matter what it looks like to you. Our marriage is political, it doesn’t have to be anything more and it never will be. For the sake of peace, don’t encourage it to be something bigger.”

Robin looks at Eddie as if she can see right through him. Sear the skin off his bones and see to his heart, the true and devastating foundations of Eddie Munson. 

Eddie hates it.

Robin takes a short breath, shifts on her feet and tips her head, “You can learn to co-exist, you know?”

Eddie nearly forgot Robin was even there. He glances at her, freckled face and soft eyes watching him, picking him apart. 

“It doesn’t have to be a beautiful harmony, but… you both know the circumstances of your marriage, I'm sure you could both come to an understanding if you just… talked.”

Eddie looks away and grunts in response, fingers curling over the railing. “She is smarter than you think.” She adds.

“I don’t underestimate her wit.” Eddie quickly corrects. “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t know you.”

“She shouldn’t want to.”

“So you expect her to happily lie with a stranger? Protect a stranger? Risk her cause for a stranger?” Robin challenges. “She lost more than you see. She’s grieving.”

Grieving. What could you possibly know about grieving? A noble woman who’s only ever known sunshine and the riches of your father’s work. If anything, Eddie just feels sorry that he’s ripped you from the luxury he’s always wanted.

Eddie grips the railing, leaning forward slightly, annoyance bubbling through him as he acknowledges Robin's words. At the very least, Eddie should make sure you don’t hate his entire being. You carry his name now. You hold the title of his home— his people will look to you as an emblem. Having this division between you two— it’s not only putting your image at stake, but his as well.

You swore a promise to the council, a promise to your father and your people and despite the tensions between you and the world you’ve grown to detest, you’ve done a damn good job at never losing sight of your duty— no matter how much you despise it.

But how long until you grow tired of him? How long until you destroy him for all his worth? How long until you realize you and Eddie will never be the same? You are like oil and water.

Eddie can admit you're good for the game you were forced to play a hand in. You have the strength to withstand any obstacle thrown your way. He just can’t say he’s all that happy to play a part in it— not when half of his name resides on your shoulders.

“She can not read your mind. Talk to her.”

Eddie glances towards Robin again, watching as she turns and walks away, back to sleep he supposes. And Eddie is left with this new task of having to figure this out— figure out what is best for the stability of this union in the eyes of the crown and his home. 

Eddie hates to admit it, but Robin is right. He will have to set aside his pride and meet you in the middle, no matter how much it pains him.

part two.

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a/n: OH EM GEEEE, guys this has been in my google docs for over a year LMAOO, I'm SHOCKED she's seeing the light of day honestly. if you've made it to the end of this chapter, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the ride if you choose to stick around !!!

as always, thank u for reading and being here, ily and love appreciate any form of feedback <3 THERE'S MORE TO COME, ILY MWAH <3

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