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discountdemonwarehouse · 5 months

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Relaxation Toys Pt. 2

This was supposed to be a one off, but here we are with a continuation!

F! implied Reader X Papa of Choice. ~4100 words.

Story under the cut because NSFW smut. MDNI. AO3 Link Contains: Light bondage/light Dom/sub, PIV sex, vaginal fingering, sex toys, restraints, belt spanking, cock warming, predicament bondage, biting, aftercare

You’d slept in, relishing the time alone away from The Ministry, Papa’s phone on the do not disturb setting as of supper the night before to give you even more time as just the two of you. But of course, one number always made it through. Papa groaned, his lips leaving your neck and pulling his hands off you before he rolled to reach for the phone. “Non posso nemmeno avere ventiquattr'ore…” He grumbled before answering, “Ciao, Sister.” You slid from under the covers, deciding to start his morning coffee. Reaching for your sleep shirt, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Papa shook a finger at you when you looked at him, mouthing the word “naked” as he listened to the person on the phone. You shrugged and headed from the loft to the kitchen. The coffee had finished brewing by the time he joined you, and you’d warmed up some pastries in the toaster oven. “Smells delicious, amore,” he praised as he took the cup of coffee you offered. “I can’t take the credit, the pastries came with us,” you smiled at him. You noticed that in addition to being dressed, the small stress creases in his forehead were back, and you slid your arms around him to snuggle close. A contented rumble sounded in his chest and his free hand slid around you in return, cupping your ass. “You take such good care of me, eh?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Of course, Papa. Someone has to.” You nuzzled the base of his throat. “Was the call important?” “Sì, I must take a call in a little while. But I will be all yours after that.” “Promise?” “Lo prometto. I even made Sister promise to leave me alone for the rest of the weekend unless The Ministry was on fire.” His lips brushed the curve of your ear as he held you close. “I have a special task for you while my call though, puttanella.”

Your role was simple – kneel under his desk and hold his cock with your mouth while he was on the phone. Stay quiet, keep your hands behind your back, and don’t move too much. There was a twist though, because why wouldn’t there be? A remote-control vibrator was nestled inside you against your G-spot, another part also pressed lightly up against your clit. The inserted portion buzzed lightly, just enough to tease. Your eyes drifted closed as you focused on staying still and the feelings in your pussy. How long would this phone call last? Papa had given you a cushion to kneel on before the call started, so it wasn’t too bad yet aside from the drool slipping from your mouth. Papa exclaimed loudly about something in the call, changing how he was sitting. His cock slid deeper in your mouth unexpectedly and you gagged a little in surprise, along with shifting your position. His hand came under the desk, holding you and repositioning you as he settled again, fingers stroking your cheek lightly before he withdrew his hand. A moment later the vibrations inside you amped up by a few stages. You clenched your eyes shut to hold back the gasp or moan that tried to leave you but swallowed reflexively. Another increase in the vibrations was Papa’s response. Exhaling hard out your nose, you did your best to focus on the task you’d been given. You were drooling more now and could feel his dick hardening a little more in your mouth. Mischievousness overtook you and you flexed your tongue under his cock, just flattening and rounding it a tiny bit. His member twitched in your mouth, and you heard his voice tighten, his hand appearing under the desk to grab your head warningly. If you didn’t have a cock in your mouth, you’d have smirked victoriously. Suddenly the toy ramped up even more and you couldn’t hold back the muffled wet gasp of surprised pleasure. Papa’s hand tightened on your hair, and you did your best to suppress the whimpers desperately trying to leave your mouth. The call continued, your eyes and mouth watering as you warmed his cock. Your ears perked as the call seemed to come to and end. “I think that takes care of everything for the next couple of days, yes? I am technically on vacation right now, so I’d like to not have more issues for a couple days. Wonderful. Addio.”

Papa sighed as he finished up whatever he had been doing, and suddenly the clit stimulator part of the toy started fluttering against you. You couldn’t help the small moan now, caring less anyways since Papa was finished with his call. “Tsk, puttanella,” he chided. “Your reaction when I forgot myself can be forgiven, but you toyed with me while I was still on the phone and now, you’re making noises… A little reminder may be needed, hm?” The buzzing against your clit intensified, and you did your best to not let any noises escape you, only the telltale change in your breathing. Your eyes clenched shut as the sensations worked against you to try and draw out reactions, your hands balling into fists behind your back. “Up one more level, I think,” he murmured sadistically before the vibrations increased again. Your eyes opened wide, silently begging him as your orgasm started to build – not that he could see. One pathetic moan escaped you, the toy immediately shutting off. You whined petulantly, uncaring of any repercussions. Papa rolled his chair back, pulling himself from your mouth with a trail of saliva connecting you momentarily. You swallowed desperately and took a few deep breaths. “Go wait for me by the front door. No clothes,” he instructed, tucking himself back into his pants before standing and leaving the office area. “Yes, Papa,” you said obediently, crawling from under the desk and going towards the door. Waiting beside the door, your eyes fell on the small thermometer on the porch, it was cool, only about 5C (41F), and most of the morning’s frost had melted away except for the cooler areas untouched by the sun. Surely, he wasn’t going to keep you out there too long, not while you were naked. What did he have planned?

Papa joined you soon enough, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and the bag of toys in the other. He set the coffee and bag on the small entry table before turning to you. “Spread you legs,” he commanded, reaching for the toy inside you and smirking when his fingers touched you. “Always so wet when we play.” He slid the toy from you, and you pouted a little at the bereft feeling. “Don’t worry, puttanella, I have plans for you,” Papa reassured you as he put the toy away to be cleaned later, turning back to you holding the leather cuffs. You obediently held out your wrists and he fixed the cuffs on them before he turned to put on his coat. “Out on the porch, amore. Stand at the end without the swing.” He gestured you through the door, then followed you with his coffee and toy bag in hand. You went to the end of the porch as instructed, waiting for him as the cool air hit your body. He set his coffee and bag down by the swing, then came over to you. “Arms up,” Papa instructed. He clipped your cuffs together through the heavy eyebolt set into the wood above you for hanging plants, then walked back to sit on the swing to drink his coffee. You weren’t quite on tiptoe, but it was a bit of a stretch, heels off the ground. Watching Papa, you saw him looking at the scenery while lounging on the swing, legs crossed casually, one arm stretched along the back of the swing. He barely seemed to pay any attention to your plight as he drank his coffee. His eyes finally drifted to you, lips smirking behind the cup. “The scenery is beautiful, no?” His eyes left you again. “Perhaps we should do this more often. Maybe a week after the tour is over. It will be warmer then too – I could leave you out here longer. Though there might be mosquitos then.” Your eyes widened as his smirk deepened, but the idea of spending a whole week alone with him sounded amazing. “A week alone together would be nice,” you finally responded, trying to sound nonchalant as you stood there in the cold air, arms bound above you. He hummed in agreement, eyes locked on the splendor of nature beyond the chalet.

Your nipples were rock hard, goosebumps spread across your body, your fingers and nose were cold. The wetness between your legs was also targeted by the cold and contributed to the goosebumps. “Papa, it’s cold out here,” you said imploringly, trying not to whine. “Sì, I can tell from your nipples.” His tone was casual, amused, and he barely glanced at you. “My hands are cold.” “Behave yourself and you can feel mine.” “Papa, I think my tits are going to freeze off.” He checked his watch. “It hasn’t been that long.” “Yes, Papa,” you said quietly, shifting a little and rubbing your thighs together subtly. He sat forward after a few minutes, picking up the bag as he stood. Walking towards you, he set the bag on the porch then skimmed his gloved hands along your body. “Maybe you need a little warming up,” he murmured, hands cupping your ass as his mouth latched onto one nipple. You sighed in pleasure as he licked and sucked, his mouth feeling so hot in contrast to the cold air and your cool skin. Soon enough you were moaning softly, feeling his teeth scraping and nipping before he pulled away to treat the other nipple the same. The wetness on your nipple mixed with the cold air to ensure it stayed puckered as he lavished attention on the other. This time you did whine as you implored to him. “Papa…” “Sì, mia piccola troia?” He murmured around your nipple as you squirmed, trying to grind yourself against his leg as he held you. “So needy for your Papa. Fine, fine.” He pulled away from your nipples and reached for your cuffs. “Keep your arms up, turn to face away from me.”

Now facing out towards the woods with your arms still cuffed above you, you heard him step over to his bag and rummage inside it. He moved back to you, arms wrapping around you from behind, the wool of his coat warm but scratchy against your skin. A toy entered your field of vision, a decently sized dildo. “Does this remind you of our favourite ghoul?” he breathed against your ear. “We had it commissioned specially.” A shiver anticipation ran through you, and you nodded mutely. “Bene,” he placed a warm kiss on your neck before retreating from you. His gloves landed on the porch by your feet and suddenly his hand was between your legs, stroking you and preparing you for the toy. You gasped and moaned as his fingers worked their magic, your head falling back, eyes closed. He had at least two fingers inside you, stroking you and pressing on your G-spot to make you extra needy. Soon the toy was stroking along your folds before seeking entrance. Papa murmured encouragingly to you as he worked the toy into you, drawing a low moan from you at the stretch and fullness. It did indeed remind you of the favoured ghoul that sometimes joined you and Papa. You moaned loudly as the toy bottomed out, and Papa let you have a few moments in that feeling, peppering your skin with light kisses, before he started to thrust the toy in and out of you, getting you worked up. “Oh fuck… Papa, please…” You moaned again. “Fuck me with it, please…” A few more thrusts, then he stopped, seating the dildo firmly inside you. “Don’t let it fall out,” he warned, footsteps walking back towards the swing. You whined a little, hearing him pick up his coffee and taking a sip. Your body was hot now, deliciously stretched and full of the fake cock inside you. Your pussy tightened on it as you squirmed, trying to rub your thighs together with it inside you.

You don’t know how much time passed, but you knew the weight of the toy combined with gravity was slowly pulling it from you. You squeezed your thighs together to make sure it didn’t fall out. Papa’s hands circled your chest from behind, fingers warm from the coffee cup. “You’re trying so hard,” he murmured, one hand sliding down to your crotch and circling your clit a few times before moving to the base of the toy and pushing it firmly back into place. His warm hands massaged your ass for a few moments to warm the skin up before he stepped away from you, the sound of his belt sliding through the loops meeting your ears. “Time for the last bit of your reminder before we go back inside. Five strikes.” “Yes, Papa,” you whispered softly. “I won’t go too hard, sì? Because you’ve been in the cold.” “Thank you, Papa.” “Bene.” The first strike across both cheeks caused you to gasp. “Uno,” he counted. You clenched against the strike, causing the toy inside you to hit the good spots, and you moaned. Papa chuckled, hand rubbing your ass before checking the toy was still seated how he wanted it. He stepped away and a moment later the belt hit again. “Due.” Again you clenched on the toy and moaned softly. “No need to be quiet now, puttanella. It’s just me out here, no phones, no one around for miles, let me hear you. Tre.”

You moaned louder as again you clenched on the toy, squirming from both the sting on your ass and the dildo rubbing inside your pussy. “Quattro.” Again, a loud gasping moan drawn from you. Papa’s hand caressed your ass, sliding down to the dildo to fuck you with it for a few thrusts until you were moaning for him. “Cinque.” The last strike was a little harder, crisscrossing the others. You yelped, the sound quickly becoming moaning as your walls grabbed the toy. Papa’s hand quickly squeezed your ass hard, the other starting to fuck you with the toy again. You were panting and moaning as Papa manhandled your tender ass as he worked the toy. “Papa! Please! Ohh, please…” You begged as he toyed with you. A few more thrusts then he pulled the toy out of you, pulling a bit of a sob from you at the loss. Papa tossed it down before reaching up to undo the clips on the cuffs and rubbing your arms a little as he brought them to your sides. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up more for me.” “Too cold for your cock, Papa?” you teased playfully. He growled and ground himself against you, letting you feel his hardness. “No, amore, I just don’t want your tits to freeze off, as you put it earlier,” he smirked, ushering you towards the door. “Go sit by the fire while I bring things inside.” “Yes, Papa,” you scurried towards the door, giving a small yip as his fingers gave your ass a pinch on the way by. The warmth of the chalet engulfed you and you gave a satisfied sigh as it started to chase away the chill. You took a seat on the rug by the fire, leaning against the overstuffed ottoman. Papa had stoked it before his phone call, ensuring it would be easy to maintain for the rest of the day so you both could relax.

Papa was moving around inside the chalet now, stowing things away and taking a few moments while you warmed up to clean the two toys you’d already used. “I am not done with you yet, puttanella,” he called from the kitchen. “I would certainly hope not, Papa,” you called back. He strode into the living area, carrying two mugs, one topped with a cookie. “Some of the spiced cider you put in the crock pot earlier.” “Mid-play aftercare?” you teased. “Of course. I have to take care of my toys, so they don’t break,” he smirked, sitting on the ottoman. You cupped the mug as you nibbled the cookie and leaned against Papa’s leg, head on his thigh, enjoying the heat while waiting for your drink to cool a little. His hand stroked your hair absently for a time before sliding down further, stroking your neck, collarbone and finally down to your nipple. You let out a soft hum of contentedness as he fondled you, leaning into him more and shifting so he had better access while you sipped your drink. A few moments later he stopped, setting his mug down and taking yours to do the same. “On your back, knees up, hands at your sides.” You did as he requested, watching as he moved to the toy bag. He returned with the matching ankle cuffs, quickly buckling them around your ankles and clipping them to your wrists. His hand went into the bag again, returning with one of your remote vibrating egg toys.

He popped it in with ease and rubbed your mons gently as he smirked at you. “Time for another task. I don’t think I got to fully enjoy the remote-control toy earlier, puttanella, but I’m using this one instead because I want access to your clit. Your task – I hope you’ve been doing your yoga – is to hold a bridge pose as best you can while I enjoy playing with you.” Your eyes widened a little at the task. Bridge pose didn’t look hard from the outside, but it could be difficult to hold properly, especially for a length of time. Papa laughed a little seeing your thoughts in your eyes. “I believe in you, puttanella. Besides, I’ll be here to provide incentive.” He clicked on the vibrator and gestured for you to lift your hips into position. “If you fall below an acceptable height or move too much, you’ll get a slap.” He demonstrated with a light slap to the inside of your thigh before his hand rubbed over your pussy again. “I smack this too, so you’d better be careful.” You groaned a little at his plans, and pouted at him, getting a deep smirk in return as he turned up the vibrator. His fingers found your clit, teasing it before sliding down to your entrance and teasing there. He kept up his slow torture, your legs shaking a little from the exertion of the position and how Papa touched you. Your hips dipped and his hand quickly left your pussy to slap your thigh. You whimpered in protest, pushing your hips back up. This pattern continued, Papa teasing you, bringing you to the brink, then slapping your thigh or pussy when you moved too much or dropped too low. The most recent slap to your pussy made you cry out in frustrated lust, wanting to cum and being on the verge of overstimulation. “Papa, please!” you begged, voice ragged. In response he turned up the vibrator and leaned forward, saying, “Cum then!” in a commanding tone before his lips suctioned over your clit. You ground against his face, gasping in pleasure until a moan ripped from your lips as you came, body shaking.

Papa’s hands supported your hips as you sagged after your orgasm, his mouth still devouring your pussy and juices as you shook in post-orgasm bliss. As your breathing returned to normal, he lowered you to the floor, undoing the cuffs and helping you relax before turning off the vibrator. “How are you feeling?” he murmured softly, tugging the vibrator out of you before undoing the cuffs from your arms and legs. You nodded, “I’m all right. I’ll be sore later though.” He hummed smugly in agreement. “That means I’m doing my job right.” “You’re so mean,” you teased quietly. Papa gave you a light, playful pinch on the thigh. “We’re not done yet.” “Oh, you wanted an orgasm too?” “Careful, amore, I keep track of these bratty moments for later, you know,” Papa taunted. You stuck your tongue out playfully, and accepted his hand to help you sit up. “Come here,” he directed you to straddle his lap as he sat on the ottoman. “Papa, your pants are going to get messy,” you teased softly, tasting yourself on his lips as he kissed you. “Let them.” He kissed you again, hands sliding down your body to undo his pants, freeing his swollen cock. Your hand drifted down to stroke him, loving the feel of him in your grasp. You teased him for a little while, stroking his shaft, squeezing lightly, hand sliding down to cup his balls before sliding back up.

He let you tease him for a decent length of time before his hand covered yours and moved it away. “Enough, puttanella, I want your cunt now,” he growled, hands lifting your hips and lining himself up with you. He thrust into you firmly, and you groaned at the feel and stretch of him. You rode him, his hands on your hips directing you as he thrust up into you. His mouth kissed, sucked, and nibbled your neck and shoulders, occasionally finding your lower lip with his teeth as he kissed you. Both of you were breathing heavily, hungry for each other as you clung to one another. Papa angled himself to drag across the delicious spot inside of you. “Play with yourself for me while I fuck you,” he ground out as he thrust. Your hand found your clit, stroking and rubbing it perfectly as he slid in and out of your cunt. The noises coming from both of you echoed in the chalet’s wood interior, Papa’s grunts and groans becoming more guttural as he got closer. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so he could ravage your throat with his lips, his other hand splayed across the back of your hips, pushing you towards him. “Cum for me, mia amata troia!” He rumbled in your ear, thrusting harder into you, dragging perfectly within you. Your fingers rubbed your clit just right in time with his thrusts, tipping you over the edge, clenching on his cock as you came. Papa thrust even harder in you, growling as he slammed into you again, cock kicking in your cunt as he came. His teeth sank into the crook of your neck, his hips thrusting firmly again now as if to fuck his cum into you while your body milk it from him.

You clung to each other, breathing heavily as your trembling, sweaty bodies pressed together. The fire crackling was the only other sound in the room. Both of you had wandering hands as you soothed each other intimately, pressed feather-light kisses wherever you could reach. “Ti amo, lo farò sempre,” he murmured in your ear, stroking your hair. “I love you too, Papa,” you whispered back, kissing his jaw. “When I regain the ability to move, I’ll fetch us some sandwiches from the fridge,” he nuzzled your neck. You made a contented noise, staying still on his lap, enjoying the post-coital haze and closeness with your beloved Papa. “Okay, amore, let’s get you settled on the couch and I’ll get the food.” He kissed your temple, helping you move to the couch and wrapping you in a blanket. He handed you your mug of cider, “Drink up. You need to hydrate.” You snuggled into the blanket, dutifully drinking your cider as he retrieved sandwiches, a container of prepared fruit, and bottled water. Papa settled beside you, pulling you against him and rearranging the blanket over both of you. Eating your sandwiches and fruit in companionable silence, you laid your head on his chest and listened to its rhythm, the hair tickling your cheek. “Are you going to fall asleep, tesoro?” “Mm, maybe,” you smiled lazily against his skin. He stretched a little, feet propped on the ottoman you’d just fucked on, adjusting his arms around you. “I don’t want to miss any time with you, but a nap may be a good idea. Just a little rest, then we’ll spend some time in the hot tub, sì? Watch the sunset, help ease your tired muscles before I ravage you again. And we must have supper at some point then too. Probably some more ravaging… Does that sound good to you?” “Mhm,” you responded, eyes closing as you snuggled closer to him. “Sounds delightful.” Papa’s chest shook a little as he laughed, drowsily replying, “Sleep well, amore.”

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Italian:

Non posso nemmeno avere ventiquattr'ore – I can’t even have twenty-four hours Amore – love Lo prometto – I promise Puttanella - little slut/little whore (affectionately) Addio – goodbye Sì, mia piccola troia – yes, my little slut? Bene – good Uno. Due. Tre. Quattro. Cinque – One. Two. Three. Four. Five. mia amata troia – my beloved slut Ti amo, lo farò sempre – I love you, I always will. Tesoro – sweetheart/darling/honey

#the band ghost #fanfic #papa emeritus iii #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #papa i #papa emeritus iv #secondo emeritus #papa iii #papa primo #papa secondo #papa copia

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heresathreebee · 2 years

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Eddie Munson | Stranger Things 4 || Face Sitting/ Fucking // Dry Humping

Eddie Lives AU/ Roommates; 2.8k words; NO BETA/ SELF-EDITED, Roommates (living with their older relatives), Swearing, Cramped Quarters, Sexual Frustration, Threat of Destruction of Property (poor Sweetheart the electric guitar, she’s done nothing wrong), Dry Humping, Magic Wand Vibrator, Slight Choking, Squirting

Previous | Masterlist | Next: Kurt Kunkle Love Bites/ Marks

You didn't hate him– you just hated everything around him. Living with Eddie Munson and his uncle Wayne meant less room in the trailer, more messes that you alone were expected to clean, and zero privacy. Your aunt originally invited Wayne and "his boy" as she called him to stay with you and her, but when an eviction notice came unexpectedly, the lot of you had been forced to return to Forest Hill for housing– right back into the infamous scene of Chrissy Cunningham's death.

Some changes had been made– A loft was built on top of the trailer with enough room for one queen sized bed that your aunt and his uncle traded. Meanwhile, the actual trailer's only bedroom had been turned into two via a "privacy curtain" and downsized a lot of things to fit all of you in. Your room held a twin sized mattress and a chest of drawers you used as a desk, and Eddie’s room mirrored yours plus a stack of amps for his electric guitar.

That damn guitar. If he's not jamming in his friends' garage or running D&D on Fridays with those high schoolers, he's strumming that fucking instrument and blasting (quietly if you ask) his music all night. At least he knocks on the privacy wall before he bothers you with something mundane when he can't entertain himself.

Somewhere along the way, after months with no way to relieve your urges, you snapped. Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin when you throw the folding curtain aside and stomp into his space.

"What'd I do? What'd I do?!"

You grab his ankles and drag him down the bed and he gets lost in the blanket he was curled up in. You catch his guitar before it hits the dirty floor and hold it over your head much to Eddie's dismay. His eyes become saucers and his face gets stern.

"Don't," he hisses with one hand out as if to placate a rabid animal.

Unperturbed, you sneer. "It's Thursday. Don't you have somewhere else to be?!"

Eddie shrugs. "We– I… one of my buddies was forced to go camping. We- we can't play without the drums."

You grit your teeth, unsatisfied. "So do something else. Somewhere else!"

"I-I-I," Eddie sputters as he watches your nails dig into his precious baby. "Like what? Where do you want me to go?!"

"Outside, Eddie!," you scream.

"Why?!"

…you uh, don't know how to answer that. In fact, you were banking on simply scaring him so bad he left without question, yet here you are. He wasn't being loud today. He wasn't making a mess or bothering you for once. He was just there and he could hear everything, just like you could hear everything he does in his room– especially the private stuff.

"Just– " you sigh and use your head to support the guitar you were holding as your arms grow tired. "An hour. I just want an hour alone. Is that too much to ask?"

Eddie looks at you sympathetically. "... I wish I could, but uh… I actually can't just go outside and loiter like I used to..."

Oh fuck, you forgot. Munson was legally cleared of murdering the cheerleader (you wouldn't have believed it anyway not since you met him, the scared little lay about) but that didn't mean their weren't people still hunting him. No other suspects were arrested for it, the cause of her death was still unknown.

You tossed Eddie his guitar back and worried your lip trying to come up with an alternative. Maybe you could take your vibrator, a towel, and his van to an empty parking lot. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him but, you would be way more comfortable doing it at home. You can’t just ignore it anymore, it’s consuming your every thought and ruining your panties…

“Is there… something else I can help you with?,” he asks warily.

You know what he means– you know! But you can’t stop from shifting your feet and rubbing your thighs together just to provide some relief. You try glaring meanly at him but it feels a lot more sexually charged than it should be and unfortunately, Eddie looks like he’s catching on to your dilemma.

“Oh,” he murmurs. “You want alone time to… oh!”

You roll your eyes and turn to go back to your room but he stops you. "Hey wait! I could still… I could still help you with that too. If– if you want…"

You look over Eddie. Before you busted down the wall between your rooms, he had been relaxing. His hair was tied up, wearing the gray shirt you were secretly obsessed with because it was Unnaturally Soft, and barefoot. You reach down to rip the blanket off him, revealing for a split second that he was only wearing boxers before he shielded his modesty with the base of his guitar.

Well, he did look delectable like this. And you were desperate at this point. "There are going to be rules."

Eddie furrows his brow as you disappear into your room, only to return a moment later wielding an object he had only seen in pornos and sex shops. "Rule one," you say as you point the vibrator at him menacingly, "never ever ever speak about this to anyone."

"Done, our secret." Eddie's eyes follow you as you saunter towards him and swiftly straddle his hips. “Anything else?”

You reach down and accidentally flash him your cleavage before jamming his guitar in his arms. “Rule two, don’t look at me and keep playing.”

“Ok– UGM.” You sit on his hips and feel the hump of his ‘boy bits’ against your sex– both lightly clothed in cotton. “Any requests?”

“Know anything with a semi-sensual bass line?,” your voice comes in a sigh as you rut against him, feeling yourself grow hotter as you finally feel the beginnings of your game coming to fruition. The first phrases he strums are intensely familiar. “Oh, House of the Rising Sun? You’ve been snooping through my things.”

Eddie shrugs and turns his eyes to the ceiling as per the second rule. “Hardly snooping if you leave your cassettes in my van.”

He grunts and closes his eyes, his fingers skipping over a note as you rut again and set your vibrator to the lowest setting. You can feel his thighs stiffen under your ass as you pull the top of your dress down and bare your hardening nipples to tease them.

Your eyes drift closed as you feel everything. “Fuck Eddie.”

The man hums in response and you both hissed as the vibrator made contact with your clit and the base of his hardening cock. In an instant, two clammy hands grasp your hips and forced you up.

"Stop," Eddie begged, "hang on, I need…"

You catch yourself from falling on him with a hand on his pillow and pause. Eddie is panting as he reaches into his boxers (not minding a few wet spots) to settle his cock against his belly and hooking the waistband under his balls. Obediently, his hands return to his guitar and he nods at you.

"Ok I'm good, you can–"

You snapped his underwear back into its rightful place halfway up his cock and Eddie almost screamed, his eyes pricking with tears and veins bulging in his neck. He glares at you with more malice than you thought he was capable of and he forces you to sit down on his hips before returning his eyes to the ceiling.

"Nice tits," he growls.

"I know," you chuckle and resume your minstrations.

Eddie's guitar picks up where he left off. You continue rocking your hips and return the bulky vibrating wand to stimulate your clit, even brushing the sensitive frenelum of Eddie’s cockhead with the wand and loving the way he bucks up into you. The coil in your gut tightens harshly and you feel something unexpected but exciting building with it.

You hum long and low in your throat. "Keep playing, Eddie."

"'M trying," he groans, "getting close."

Your wand dies unexpectedly and you quickly toss it aside with a huff. "Just keep playing. Fuck, Eddie…"

He loves the way his name sounds, and when you say it like that… he misses the E string again and holds his guitar up to his neck. The last thing he wants is to come all over his precious Sweetheart, even if it annoys you. He tries strumming the melody from up high. It sounds a little out of tune and he catches you smiling (your eyes are closed, or you'd scold him for breaking your rules).

"Thought you said you learned Master of Puppets in 30 days," you tease, "but now you can't play four bars on repeat. S'matter, pussy too good?"

Eddie grips his guitar roughly. "Can feel how wet you are…" and see your pretty chest swaying. He shuts his eyes tight. Your threats are rarely empty and he needs to come, he'll die if he doesn't.

"Oh shhh–"

Eddie hits himself in the face trying to thrust Sweetheart out of the splash zone. He growls as streams of pearly white fluid pools in his belly button and paint streaks across his shirt, even tiny droplets splash under his chin. Your movements milk every drop out of him, and as soon as he cracks an eye open, he sees you triumphantly admiring your handy work.

"Fuck," Eddie hisses as his cock throbs one more time and everything starts to feel overly sensitive. "Too much, too much."

Reluctantly, you stop rocking and stare down your nose at Eddie. He knows what you're thinking already and tries to dissuade you with a firm hand on your hips.

"Just need to catch my breath," he pleads. "Why don't you take this off before it gets ruined?"

His fingers gently tug on the sun dress pooling around your hips. In truth, he wants to be able to see more of you, and you oblige his suggestion with seductive grace. Now it's just you and two layers of cotton underwear sitting on his softening cock and empty sack. He sets his guitar just off the bed and helps you adjust your placement for better friction.

"Pick that up," you command. "I didn't say you could stop playing."

Eddie sighs, "yes ma'am."

He folds his shirt in half to cover his mess and settles Sweetheart back in her place against his ribcage. He glances back at you again as he finally notices the vibrating wand has disappeared.

"Look the other way." Your eyebrows are drawn together and you unconsciously cover your breasts with your hands until he obeys.

It's weird to him that you choose to be shy at this moment. After all, you were downright prideful a moment ago, and he is the only one covered in cum right about now.

"Any other requests? A different song perhaps?"

"Sure…"

Eddie tunes a string that sounded off and begins to play something a little less somber but with a heavy bassline. Sunshine of Your Love fills the space between you and he can hear you smiling through your praise.

"I like this one," you chuckle and begin to rock your hips again, slower this time to build back the momentum you lost.

He's less sensitive now and simply enjoying the feel of you, wanting to get you off like he said he would. Still, it's fun to hear you 1) laugh and 2) like his taste in music. If he could get hard again, he totally would.

It's not long before he feels your warm hands come down on his shoulders for support and it takes every ounce of his control not to look at you. The gentle sighs that fall from your lips come in time with the rising speed of your thrusts against his flaccid junk. Eddie counts to four in his head, bends his knees, and bucks up in perfect time to help you get off.

The prettiest filthiest sound pours out of you halfway between a sob and a sigh. You bite your tongue hard to stop yourself from saying his name again and scold yourself internally for even thinking about it. This isn't about Eddie, this is about getting off. But no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to get there. Not without the wand and not without thinking of Eddie.

"Fuck..." The curse is dripping with frustration and Eddie's heart pangs with sympathy.

Eddie's had enough. You can't finish like this but you are too stubborn to help even yourself. It's time to take over.

You gasp as you suddenly feel Eddie's fingers wrap around your throat. There's a dark look in his eye as he sits up on his elbow, guitar set aside again. It fills you with heat that pools in your gut.

"Come on, princess," Eddie says, his voice low and gravelly, "what's the matter? You want to come, don't you?"

"Ah! Eddie!" One second you're dry humping your roommate, and the next you find yourself on your back with said roommate hovering over you. His rough hand squeezes your wind pipe for a second causing stars to dance in your eyes and his hips press down, pushing your thighs wider to accommodate his width. You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel so aroused by this lazy nerd musician.

“If you want me to stop, say the magic word. But before you do–” he tilts his head back and licks his lips. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good.”

Eddie thrusts his hips once and you know you’re done for. He’s grown hard again that much is sure, and the way his cock is sandwiched between your soaked folds to brush your clit with his head is enough to make you cry. His thrusts are short and needy, but not because he is desperate– it’s because you are. You know if you asked him to fuck you like a toy, he would happily oblige and you have to bite your tongue to save you from yourself.

“What’s that, baby?” Eddie smugly addresses the punchy whines escaping from you. “I can’t hear so good, did you say you want me to stop?”

“No please!” You cry and dig your nails hard into the hand on your throat to keep him there. “Please don’t stop, Ed, please…”

Satisfaction curls cat-like on his lips. “That’s what I thought you said, sweetheart. Now, who’s making you feel good, baby?”

Oh this asshole, you think, I’m going to kill him someday. “...you are.”

“And what’s my name, princess?”

You roll your eyes internally. “Eddie.”

“Uh-HUH. Eddie who?”

“Eddie fucking Munson!” The devil rewards you with a warm fingered pinch on your exposed bud.

“That’s right! Good girl.” His rhythm is so perfect, you can count it– 120 beats per minute. “And who’s touch are you gonna beg for?”

“Eddie Munson…” Your voice becomes airy and high. Every stroke building like water behind a dam and his toying with your chest sparks like magic.

“And who’s the lucky son of a bitch who’s gonna make you come?”

He speeds up, anticipating your peak, the wall you keep hitting but couldn’t pull yourself over. Instead of answering him with his name, you scream under him and arch your back as stars explode outwards behind your eyes and deep in the pit of your stomach. Fire washes over your skin, then ice as the sweat on your body cools, and a comforting warmth returns as you feel Eddie’s chest covering yours and his head fall into the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

It takes you a few minutes to feel your toes. You cradle the back of his neck craving his contact and forget you ever hated Eddie the freak Munson.

“Thank you,” you whisper sheepishly. “Maybe this is an insane thing to ask but… do you know how fast you were going when you made me come?”

“195,” he mutters matter-of-factly.

The ticklish feeling causes you to laugh. “On a school night? Shame on you.”

The way he nuzzles into your neck fills you with something sweet, until he speaks again with that trademark smugness. “And I made you do a lot more than come, baby.”

You become very aware of the fact that your underwear and the bed beneath you is drenched, like genuinely soaked, swimming in liquid. Even the bottom half of Eddie’s shirt which slipped down while he was over you was wet as well as sticky where his cum was barely dried. You roll your eyes and promise to never let yourself do this again.

Your vow lasts all of two hours.

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Using my roommate like a sex jukebox? Its more likely than you think!

#three bees writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #kinktober 2022 challenge #tppkinktober2022 #black reader insert #joseph quinn character fiction

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