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Ruin Me - Eddie Munson x Reader - One Shot

Eddie refuses to give into your drunken flirtation - but what happens the next day when you’d slept it off & still want him?

a/n - amidst my multiple WIPs it’s always good to have a smutty one shot ready to go - right?

TW/CW - temporarily drunk!reader (but Eddie’s a gentleman), making out, smut, oral (f! receiving), no use of y/n, praise, discussions of consent

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie was breathless, sweat stinging his eyes as the final chord of "Runnin' with the Devil" rang out, vibrating through the floorboards and up into the soles of his boots, leaving that distinct ringing in his ears that he lived for. He looked out into the crowd - what little there was of it, anyway - and immediately, his dark eyes landed on you.

You were standing by the edge of the stage, bathed in the shitty, flickering stage lights. You looked radiant - like you always did, obviously - but tonight? Tonight you were wearing a skirt that just barely covered you, and a top that clung to you in all the ways he spent his nights imagining he would one day. The way he wanted you was a constant, dull ache in his chest that flared up into something hot and jagged every time you looked at him.

As the “show” came to an end, he hopped off the stage, wiping his palms on his jeans, trying to compose himself. Just be cool, Munson. She’s your best friend. She’s off-limits. She’s... Oh. Very drunk.

He saw you stumble a little before he even reached you. Your movements were loose, too fluid, while your eyes were glassy and unfocused. Panic spiked in his throat, instantly cooling the heat of the performance.

"Whoa, easy there, sweetheart," he said, rushing forward to catch your elbows before you could face-plant into the sticky floor. His hands gripped your skin, and the contact was electric. You were burning up. "Didn't know you were planning to go this hard tonight. You okay?"

"I'm fantastic," you slurred, and the sound of your voice, thick and syrupy, sent a shiver down his spine. “You did so good up there.”

You leaned your full weight against him, your face pressing into his sweaty neck. He froze and nearly stopped breathing. You were nuzzling into the crook of his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world - meanwhile his heart was busy trying to beat its way out of his rib cage. He could smell the alcohol on your breath, sharp and sour, but underneath it, you smelled like you - some sort of perfume that was a mixture of cherries and vanilla that secretly drove him insane.

"Hey," he managed to choke out, his voice sounding wrecked even to his own ears. He carefully pulled you back, forcing himself to hold your shoulders at arm's length, cocking his head down to get a better look at you. "You're burning up. Let's get you some water."

"No," you stuck out your lower lip in a slight pout, and he had to look away, swallowing hard. You grabbed his wrist, your fingers hot and trembling. "Come outside with me. Please? It's too loud in here.”

He looked at Gareth and Jeff; they were busy packing up, oblivious to the internal war currently shredding him apart. He looked back at you. Your lower lip was still jutting out in a way that made him want to bite it. He knew he should just get you water. Help you sober up before driving you home to tuck you in like the good, platonic friend he was supposed to be.

But he was weak. God, he was so weak when it came to you.

"Okay," he relented, the defeat heavy in his voice. "Just for some air. Before I drive you home."

The alleyway was freezing compared to the stifling heat of the bar, but the cold air did nothing to cool the fire raging under his skin. He leaned against the brick wall, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive position he hoped you wouldn't notice.

"You should drink this," he said, pulling the spare water bottle from his back pocket. His hands fumbled with the cap and it fell to the ground. He felt clumsy, stupid.

You ignored it, stepping into his space and invading the safety zone he tried to maintain until your toes were touching his boots. He looked down at you, his breath hitching in his throat. You were so close. Way too close.

"What’re you doing?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. His hands hung limp at his sides, useless, aching to touch you.

"Nothing," you breathed. Your hand came up to his jaw, your fingers tracing the line of bone. Your touch was feather-light, torturous. His eyes fluttered shut against his will. "I'm jus’ looking at you."

"Don't," he whispered back, a plea. "Please don't look at me like that."

“Why not?”

“You’re drunk.” Eddie cleared his throat. “I’m just trying to make sure you stay outta trouble. Take care of you.”

"You're always taking such good care of me, Eds," you murmured, your thumb brushing over his lower lip, tugging down slightly. His lips parted in a gasp. "Always watching out for me. Why?"

Because I love you. I've loved you since we were six years old and you shared your lunch with me when you saw I didn’t have one. Every time you smile at me, I feel like I've won the lottery. You go out of your way to make every single day better. The thought of anyone else touching me makes me want to tear my own skin off, and I can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone as much as I want to be with you.

"Because I'm your friend," he lied, the words tasting like poison in his mouth. "And someone has to.”

"I don't want a friend right now," you whispered, standing on tip-toe and letting your lips brushed the sensitive skin just below his ear. Your hips pressed against his ever so slightly. “And I don’t think you do either.”

Eddie’s knees nearly buckled. A guttural sound tore itself from his throat, half-groan, half-sob. His hands flew to your waist on instinct, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, holding you up against him and holding you back all at once.

He wanted to let go, he really did. But it wasn’t very gentlemanly to feel up someone who was drunk off their rocker. He would never take advantage of anyone who was drunk - especially not you.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to grab you by the back of the neck and crash his mouth against yours. To spin you around, push you up against this wall and show you exactly what you did to him. He’d spent years memorizing the way you laughed, the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and now you were here, seemingly seconds away from offering it to him on a silver platter.

"You don’t mean that," he choked out, voice barely recognizable. "It's the alcohol talking."

"It's not," you insisted, your hand sliding down his chest, over his still slightly sweaty t-shirt, heading lower. "Kiss me, Eddie. Please."

Your fingers grazed the waistband of his jeans, teasing the sliver of skin there. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and to his horror he was becoming hard - painfully, embarrassingly hard - and there was no hiding it as you pressed up against him. He was disgusted with himself. Taking advantage of his best friend because she had a few too many drinks? Fuck, he was scum. No better than the guys the manager of the bar occasionally asked him to toss out for getting too handsy with other customers, or trying to lure drunk girls out to their cars.

He caught your hand before you could go any lower, his grip almost bruising.

“Please, Eddie. Just’ one -“

"D-don't," he gasped, his head falling back against the brick wall.

He looked down at you. Your beautiful eyes were glassy, and your cheeks were flushed a tempting shade of lusty pink. But he knew you weren't really seeing him. You were seeing a warm body, a safe pair of hands. A temporary scratch to an alcohol-fueled itch. You definitely weren't seeing the guy who had spent a decade silently worshipping the ground you walked on.

"You're going to wake up tomorrow," he said, the words tearing at his throat, "and you're going to regret this.” And I can't handle just being the mistake you make when you're too drunk to know better.

"I’d never regret you," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “You're… Eddie."

He let out a shaky laugh, feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his chest as he gently peeled your fingers off his waist, fighting every instinct in his body that screamed at him to pull you back. He needed to get you away from him before he did something he could never take back.

"Let's get you in the van," he said, his voice rough, forcibly devoid of the emotion that was threatening to drown him. "I'm taking you home to sleep this off.” And we are never talking about this again.

He opened the passenger door and helped you inside, his hands lingering on your lower back for just a second too long before he pulled away. He shut the door, closing you in, and leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the roof, dragging in ragged breaths of air. He was hard, aching, and utterly miserable - and he wanted you so bad it felt like dying. But he loved you enough to let you go.

The drive to your place was a blur of dark trees and silent roads, the only sound the hum of his van engine and your quiet, uneven breathing from the passenger seat. Eddie gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, his jaw set in a hard line as he stared resolutely at the road. He refused to look at you, or to let his eyes trace the curve of your very bare thigh.

You were dead weight, soft and pliant in his arms, face buried in his chest as he half-carried you up the walkway to your apartment a little while later. The scent of your shampoo and perfume filled his nose with every step, clouding his mind. He fumbled with your keys, hands shaking as he swore under his breath until the lock finally clicked.

Inside, he guided you straight to your bedroom. You probably needed a shower to get the film of bar sweat off your soft skin - but he wasn’t about to try and tempt fate, or wrestle you into your small shower. He sat you on the edge of the bed, kneeling to tug off your heels. You giggled drunkenly, sliding your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at the roots. It sent a bolt of electricity straight down his spine. Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Don’t do that again.

"You're so good to me, Eddie," you mumbled, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused. "Stay with me? Please? Don’t wanna be alone."

Eddie froze, his hands resting on your ankles and thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin there. He looked up at you. "I... I shouldn't."

"Please," you whispered again, clutching at his shoulders like he was your lifeline. "Just until I fall asleep. Feel… Dizzy.”

He let out a long, ragged breath, closing his eyes for a second. He knew he should leave. Tuck you in and go sleep on the couch immediately. But the thought of saying no to you, when you looked at him like that… It was impossible.

"Okay," he whispered, the defeat heavy in his voice. "Just until you fall asleep."

He helped you slide under the covers, his movements bordering on reverent. You looked like an angel lying there, hair fanned out across the pillow, cheeks flushed. He sat on the very edge of the mattress, trying to take up as little space on the bed as possible. But you weren't having it, tugging on his sleeve, mumbling something about laying down. Next thing he knew you were wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your face in his back.

He stiffened, his entire body locking up. He could feel the heat of your breath through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He could feel the softness of your breasts pressing against him. It was agony. The sweetest kind of hell he had ever known. The kind guys like him wrote songs about. Eddie stared at your wall, counting the seconds, forcing himself to breathe evenly, trying to ignore the way his body was screaming at him to turn around and pull you into his arms.

Slowly, your breathing evened out, deepening into the slow rhythm of sleep. Your arm went lax around his waist. He waited another ten minutes, just to be sure, his heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

Gently, he peeled your arm away, sliding out from under your grasp. He turned back to look at you, bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the blinds. You looked so peaceful. Almost innocent. He felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him at the mere thought of doing anything to ruin his friendship with you.

He reached out, hand hovering over your cheek for a moment before he let his fingertips graze your soft skin. Then, he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. It chaste, a purely platonic gesture of affection, but it burned his lips like a brand.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered into the silence.

Sunlight streamed through the open living room blinds, stabbing directly into Eddie's eyelids. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the cushion. His back was stiff, neck popping as he shifted. He hadn’t even had a drop of beer the night before but he still felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, the events of the night before crashing down on him. The alleyway. The kiss that almost happened. The way you had clearly wanted him. His stomach twisted with a mixture of shame and lingering desire. He scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, trying to smooth it down, and grabbed his discarded flannel shirt from the floor, shrugging it on.

He needed coffee. And he needed to know if you remembered anything. God, he hoped you didn't.

He walked into the kitchen, digging through your cabinets for a mug when he heard your bedroom door creak open. He froze, his heart jumping into his throat.

You shuffled out, wrapped in your oversized bathrobe, your hair a tangled mess on top of your head. You looked beautiful, even as you winced at the bright light, shielding your eyes with one hand.

"Hey there," Eddie said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, turning to lean against the counter. "How’re you feeling?"

"Like I died," you groaned, shuffling over to the kitchen table and collapsing into a chair. You buried your face in your hands. "I am never drinking again. Ever. Why’d you let me do that?”

Eddie let out a small laugh. A small wave of relief washed over him, cooling the anxiety in his gut. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse," you mumbled, peeking out at him from between your fingers. "I don't even remember how I got home. Did I... did I do anything stupid?"

He watched you closely, searching your face for any sign of recollection. There was nothing but confusion and a pounding headache. You didn't remember the alley. Or begging him to kiss you. Or the way he'd had to physically pry your hands off him. He forced a casual shrug, plastering a noncommittal smirk on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Nah. You just had a bit too much fun. Brought you home, tucked you in. You were out like a light."

You sighed, dropping your head onto the table with a dull thud. "You're a saint, Munson. I don't know what I'd do without you."

If only you knew, he thought, his chest aching with the weight of the secret he carried. He turned back to the counter, turning on the coffee maker with trembling fingers to hide the expression on his face.

"Yeah, well," he said, his voice tight. "Someone's gotta look out for you."

The shower hissed to life a few minutes later, the sound of water against the tile and your gentle humming filling the small apartment. Eddie leaned back against the kitchen counter, staring blindly at the coffee pot as it slowly filled. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his palms roughly over his eyes. He felt raw, exposed, like he’d just run a marathon without training. The image of you in that alleyway, desperate and wanting in that practically nonexistent skirt was burned into the back of his eyelids. Anytime he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the memory of feel of your skin, but it was no use. It was branded there, permanently.

He heard the water shut off. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and a cloud of steam rolled out. You walked into the kitchen, your hair, wearing shorts and an oversized Metallica shirt. You looked cleaner, but still fragile, moving slowly as the light hit you again.

"Coffee?" Eddie asked, his voice sounding a little too loud in the quiet room. He turned to grab a mug, needing something to do with his hands.

"Please," you groaned, sinking into a chair. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. "I feel like my brain is sloshing around in my skull."

He poured you a cup and slid it across the table without another word.

"Thanks," you murmured, closing your eyes in caffeinated bliss briefly. "You really are the best."

"I try," he said, leaning back against the counter, crossing his ankles. He watched you over the rim of his own mug, trying to gauge your mood. You seemed calmer, but there was a furrow between your brows that suggested you were thinking. Hard.

You were quiet for a long moment, staring into the dark liquid in your cup. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I keep having these flashes. Like, snippets of memories."

Eddie’s heart stopped. He set his mug down a little harder than he intended. "Yeah? That happens. Think it’s called, like, alcohol amnesia, or something.”

"It's not just random stuff," you said, looking up at him, your eyes searching his face. "I remember... Was I out behind the bar? Like, in the alleyway?”

Eddie felt the blood drain from his face. He kept his expression neutral, but inside, he was panicking. "Yeah. We went out there for some air. You needed to cool down."

"And we were... Alone?" you asked, brow furrowing deeper.

"Yeah," he said carefully. "Just us."

You bit your lip as your gaze dropped to the table. "I feel like I said something. Or did something, maybe? Shit, did I make a total fool of myself?”

Eddie let out a breath, a short exhale. He quickly pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down. He leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hey. You didn't do anything. You were just drunk. Happens to the best of us."

"Eddie," you said, your voice firming up. You looked him dead in the eye, your cheeks flushing. "What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal. You just… Got a little flirty is all.”

“Oh no-“

“It’s no big deal.”

“Shit, I didn’t kiss you did I?” You clamped a hand over your mouth, seemingly catching Eddie’s face blanch. “Did I try something?”

He stared at you, caught. He could lie. He could brush it off, tell you that you just talked about the weather or complained about your ex. But looking at you, seeing the genuine fear and confusion in your eyes, he couldn't do it. You deserved the truth. He looked down at his hands, picking at a chip in the polish on his thumb.

"Kinda. I mean, you… Didn’t do anything. Exactly." He admitted quietly. "You said you didn't want to be friends. You said you wanted, uh, me."

You let out a small, horrified gasp, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. "Oh my god.“

A faint, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "You were... Attempting to be very persuasive."

Your eyes widen with mortification.

"Don’t worry about it, okay? Nothing happened. Your hands were just wandering places they shouldn't have been."

You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a groan of pure despair. "I am so sorry. Fuck - I can't believe I did that. I must have made you so uncomfortable."

"You didn't," he said immediately, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. He held them for a second, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles, before letting go. "It's fine. Really. You were drunk. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. Happens to me all the time as a small-town rock star at a dive bar.”

“It’s not funny, Munson. Shit, I never… I didn’t mean to… God, I ruin everything.”

"You didn't ruin anything," he said fiercely. "I promise. We're good. It's forgotten."

“And you’re sure nothing else happened?”

“Swear on my life.” Eddie searched your expression carefully. “I also need you to know that I don’t accept those types of offers from drunk girls, okay? Kinda the bare minimum, but I’m not that kinda guy, I swear. “

You looked at him, eyes swimming with unshed tears - partially from embarrassment, partially from realizing you’d dodged a bullet in your state the night before. You were quiet for a long moment, studying his face, like you were looking for something. Then you took a deep breath, and your next words knocked the wind out of him.

"If any guy had to take advantage of me," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly, "I’d have wanted it to be you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Eddie stared at you, his mouth slightly open, his brain short-circuiting. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. It was nice to know that you trusted him, but Jesus Christ, your words horrified him.

"Woah, what the fuck?" He choked out.

"I mean it," you said, your eyes locking onto his. "I trust you more than anyone. You're... you're Eddie. You're the one person who actually gives a shit about me. If I was going to be that… Like, forward with someone, I'm glad it was you."

Eddie recoiled, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stood up abruptly. He shoved his hands into his hair, pacing restlessly away from the table.

"No," he said, his voice rising in agitation. "No, absolutely not. Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

"Why not?" you asked, confused by his sudden intensity.

"Because I would never do that!" he burst out, spinning around to face you. "I would never take advantage of you like that. You were drunk, you were vulnerable, and I’m supposed to protect you. Not... Do the shit you were asking me to do."

You watched him, expression unreadable. Then you tilted your head to the side, your eyes narrowing slightly. "Geez, are you really that horrified by the idea of being with me?"

"What? No, fuck. It's not about being with you!" he yelled, frustration cracking his composure. "It's about consent. And like, being a decent human being!"

"So let’s say you have my consent. Can you honestly say," your voice dropped to a dangerous, silky calm, "that you’ve never thought about it?"

Eddie froze. The air left the room. He stopped pacing, shoulders rigid, and he could feel your eyes burning a hole in his back. This was it. The moment of truth. He could lie. He could laugh it off or make a joke. But the words died in his throat. He couldn't lie to you. Not about this. Not when he had spent the last ten years lying to everyone else, including himself.

He turned around slowly, face pale and eyes dark - filled with a turmoil he couldn't hide. He saw the challenge in your gaze. You knew. Or you suspected. And you were calling his bluff. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. So he stood there, trapped, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, waiting for the inevitable fallout.

The silence stretched between you, taut and vibrating, like the hum of an amp before the feedback kicks in. Eddie didn't move, just stood there looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"You can't say it, can you?" You whispered, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across your face. The shame from earlier was gone, replaced by a sudden, electric thrill. You leaned forward in your chair, resting your elbows on the table, eyes locked on his. "You can't look me in the eye and tell me you've never thought about us."

Eddie’s jaw worked furiously, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He looked down at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but at you. "It doesn't matter," he gritted out. "I'm not that guy."

You walked around the table, moving into his space, just like you had in the alleyway, but this time you were sober, and every step was calculated. "You're the guy who takes care of me. The guy who protects me. The guy who drives me home and sleeps on my couch."

"Stop," he warned, backing up until his spine hit the wall. He held his hands up as if to ward you off, but you saw the way his fingers curled toward you, wanting to grab hold of you.

"But you never made a move," you mused, stopping right in front of him. You reached out, trailing a finger down the front of his flannel shirt, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your touch. "All these years. Not once. Why? Think I'd break your heart? Think you’re too good for me?”

If anything is too good for someone - it’s you. You’re way more than I deserve.

"Because you're my best friend!" he shouted, the words exploding out of him. "If we hooked up and I ended up losing you, I wouldn't survive it!"

"You wouldn’t," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "I'm right here. And I'm asking you. I'm giving you permission to be honest with me. Just for once.”

His eyes darted across your face, searching for a sign of hesitation - but he found none. All he saw was a heat that matched his own, a challenge that hung in the air between you.

"Fine. I think about it all the time," he finally ground out, the admission torn from him by your pleading expression. "Every single day. Every time you laugh at my jokes or wear those goddamn shorts or tell me about the book you’re reading. Every time you look at me like I'm actually worth something because you’re like, the only person who does.”

The satisfaction that surged through you was heady, better than any drink. You stepped closer, eliminating the last inch of space between you, until your hips were brushing his.

“Really?”

“Y-yeah.”

"Good," you whispered. "I was hoping you'd say that."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and curious. "So tell me, Munson. If I let you... If I actually gave you the green light... What would you do with me?"

Eddie’s breath hitched audibly. His eyes went black, dilating until the brown was just a thin ring around the edge. He stared at you, and for a second, he considered bolting. But then something snapped. The leash he'd been holding onto for a decade finally broke.

"You really want to know?" He asked, voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through your chest.

"I do," you nodded eagerly.

"I don’t know if I’d be very gentle, sweetheart," he said, gaze dropping to your lips, then lower, to the pulse beating wildly in your neck. "I might not be the sweet, careful friend you're used to. Maybe I'd be selfish."

He leaned down, face inches from yours, but he didn't kiss you. He just let you feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his words.

"I'd start by getting you out of these clothes," he murmured, his eyes tracing the line of your shirt. "Slowly. I'd want to draw it out. Make you beg for it, kinda like you begged me last night. I'd peel every layer off till you were completely bare for me. Would you like that?"

He grinned as you trembled slightly, but still held your ground, mesmerized while you nodded.

"I wouldn't just use my hands," he continued, his voice roughening. "I think I’d like to memorize every inch of you with my tongue. Find every spot that makes you gasp and squirm, and I'd stay there until you were screaming my name."

He shifted, crowding you back against the wall, but didn’t touch you yet, one hand bracing beside your head. Tension radiated off him.

"And when you were finally as desperate as I could make you," he whispered, “when you couldn't take it anymore... I still wouldn't give it to you right away. I'd make you wait. Use your words. All that.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that rattled your bones.

"And when I finally got inside of you," he breathed, "I wouldn't stop. Not until you were so wrecked you couldn't remember your own name. Not until the only thing you knew, the only thing you could feel inside your tight little body, was me."

He pulled back slightly, looking you in the eye, his expression fierce and hungry. "And I'd ruin you for anyone else. Make sure you never looked at another guy again without thinking of me. Mark you, inside and out. I'd make you mine. That’s the only way this ends.”

The air in the kitchen seemed to have vanished. You were gripping the front of his shirt now, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. It was clearly the most intense thing anyone had ever said to you, likely made infinitely hotter by the knowledge that it was your friend. Eddie. With the sweet doe eyes and nerdy side hobbies. The guy who looked like an intense, devil-worshiping troublemaker - but who was truly an angel in disguise.

"Is that..." you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "Is that all?"

A dark, wicked smirk curled the corner of his mouth. It was a look you'd never seen on him before - predatory, confident.

"I mean, that’s just the start," he said softly. "I've got ten years of ideas to work through."

Your fingers clenched tighter around the fabric of his flannel, twisting it until your knuckles threatened to split open. The air between you was thick enough to choke on, charged with a decade of repressed longing that was finally snapping its tether. His words were still echoing in your ears, dark and heavy, painting pictures in your mind that made your thighs tremble.

"So do it.”

Eddie froze, his dark eyes searching yours. He looked like a man standing on a precipice, terrified to jump but longing for the fall.

“What?"

"You h-heard me," you said, voice gaining strength. You tugged him forward, pulling him flush against you until you could feel the hard lines of his body pressing into yours. He was solid, warm, and vibrating with a restraint that was visibly crumbling. "Stop talking about it. If you want to ruin me so badly, Eddie... Then ruin me."

He let out a ragged half-groan, half-laugh, shaking his head slightly. "You don't know what you're asking, baby. You deserve so much better than me.”

"I'm not asking for someone else," you shot back, eyes flashing. "I'm asking for you. All of you. Unless," you tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips, "you're all talk?"

That was the spark that lit the fuse.

Eddie’s brown eyes narrowed, the heat in them intensifying. He didn't say a word as he moved with a sudden, fluid speed that stole your breath. One hand shot out, bracing against the wall beside your head, and the other hooked around your waist, hauling you off your feet. You gasped as your back hit the wall, harder than you expected, knocking the wind out of you. But before you could recover, his mouth was on yours.

It wasn't really a sweet, tentative first kiss. It was all tongues and desperate hunger. He kissed you like he was starving, like you were the only oxygen in a burning room. His lips were demanding, punishing, slanting over yours perfectly with a passion that made your head spin. You moaned into his mouth, hands flying up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. He growled low in his throat, the vibration reverberating through your chest. His hand left the wall and gripped your thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, hauling your leg up to wrap around his hip. The position left you open, vulnerable, and you could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your core through the denim of his jeans

"Eddie," you gasped, tearing your mouth away to breathe, but he didn't let you retreat. He immediately latched onto your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin below your ear, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. If he had his way, (and if you were okay with it) it was going to be the first of many marks he’d leave on your body to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

"I warned you," he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled and rough. "I told you I wouldn't be gentle."

"G-good," you choked out, head falling back against the wall as he sucked the mark onto your pulse point in earnest. "Don't stop."

He didn't. His hand slid up under your shirt, his palm hot against your stomach, tracing the curve of your waist. His touch was electric, searing you from the inside out. He wasn't exploring; he was claiming. Every touch felt like he was marking his territory, learning the map of your body by heart.

Eddie suddenly back away from the wall, letting you slide out of his arms slightly. You groaned in protest but before you could say anything coherent, the world tilted upside down as he threw you over his shoulder with surprising ease. His arms banded around your legs, one hand splayed over your ass as your shorts rode up way too far than was decent. A few moments later he kicked open your bedroom door, the wood banging against the wall. The world righted itself as he carefully dropped you onto the center of the bed.

He was on top of you before you could even process the movement, caging you in, knees on either side of your hips and hands braced on either side of your head. He loomed over you, a predator finally closing in on its prey. He looked wild, his hair a mess, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"You sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dropping to a growl.

You looked up at him, shivering at both the intensity in his eyes and the raw need that matched your own. It was endearing that even in his intensity and insistence that he was about to totally ruin you - he still wanted you to fully consent to all of it. Reaching up, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down until his nose brushed yours.

"If you stop now," you whispered, "I'm gonna kill you."

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound sending a jolt of excitement down your spine. "That's my girl."

Eddie crashed his lips against yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. There was only that fire you were quickly becoming addicted to. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, and with a rough jerk, he pulled it up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor, leaving you in a thin bra. The scorching heat of his palms landed on your waist, holding you firmly in place so he could take a moment to drink you in properly.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice a low, vibrating rumble against your sternum as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to the sensitive skin of your stomach. "Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this. Real thing is way better though."

His mouth traveled lower, his tongue dipping into your navel, making your hips buck writhe against the mattress. But his hands were the real distraction. He had large hands, slender and strong, and the cool metal of his rings - the thick silver bands he wore on almost every finger - was a shocking, exquisite contrast to the burning heat of your skin. He dragged those hands up your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, and the rings snagged slightly against the lace of your bra, sending a riot of goosebumps racing across your flesh. It felt dangerous, despite knowing you were safe with him.

Your breath was beginning to come in short gasps, causing Eddie to look up at you from under his lashes. A smirk played on his kiss-swollen lips, and his hands ghosted further over your breasts. Your back arched instinctively, pushing your chest further into his hands. He squeezed ever so slightly, & a small moan worked its way up from the back of your throat.

“Awe, too much, baby?”

"N-no."

His smirk widened, a flash of white teeth. "Good. Because I'm just getting started."

Eddie carefully reached behind you, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra with an ease that probably shouldn’t have surprised you. The fabric gave way, and he pulled the straps down your arms, tossing the garment aside with the same disregard he’d shown your t-shirt. The air felt heavy, charged with a sudden, intense vulnerability as you lay bare-chested beneath him.

For a few moments, Eddie didn't speak. He just looked. He stared at you with a hunger that was almost terrifying, eyes darkening as they traced the curve of your breasts, the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It felt like he was physically consuming you with his gaze.

"Fucking Christ," he whispered reverently. "You're perfect."

He lowered his head, but he didn't take a nipple into his mouth immediately. Instead, he ran his knuckles - decorated in cold, hard metal - over the soft swell of your breast. The sensation was startling against your overheated skin. You gasped, your nipples hardening instantly into tight peaks.

"Like that, baby?" He murmured, doing it again experimentally, this time on the other side. He watched your face intently, cataloging every reaction as if he intended to file them away to revisit at some point.

"Y-yes," you hissed, your own hands tangling in his hair, trying to guide him closer. "Eddie, please."

"Please what?" His teasing breath ghosted over your skin. "Use your words. Tell me what you need."

"I need your mouth," you practically begged, your hips lifting off the bed in a desperate search for friction as he let out a small laugh. "Please, put your mouth on me or something.”

"Since you asked so nicely."

He leaned down and closed his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. The wet heat of his mouth was a shock after the cold metal of his rings. And he didn't just suck; he used his teeth too - grazing the sensitive bud just enough to make you gasp. A sharp mix of pleasure with a twinge of pain shot straight to your groin. His hand came up to knead your other breast, his palm rough, his fingers twisting and pinching.

After a few intense minutes that had you panting, he switched sides, giving the other nipple the same treatment. Eventually, his free hand slid slowly down your stomach, rings clinking softly against your skin. With practiced ease, his hand delving inside your sleep shorts, beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You knew you were soaked. You could feel the slick heat gathering between your legs, and now he definitely could as well. He choked out an against your breast, fingers sliding through your wetness.

"Christ,” Eddie murmured. “This all for me, angel?"

"All for you," you managed, head falling back against the pillow. "Only you."

"Good girl," he praised, his voice dropping an octave, becoming impossibly deeper. It was a tone you’d never heard from him - commanding, authoritative. It made your stomach clench with anticipation.

Quickly, he pulled his hand out of your pants, ignoring your small whine of protest, and hooked his fingers into the waistbands of both your shorts and panties. He tugged them down your legs in one rough motion, helping you kick out of them so you were left completely bare before him.

Eddie sat back slightly as he situated himself between your legs, his large, dark eyes roaming over your naked body like he didn’t know what he wanted to focus on first. He looked so terrifyingly beautiful like this - hair wild, chest heaving beneath his t-shirt. He looked like a fallen angel. Your fallen angel.

"Spread your legs a little more for me," he ordered, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for a split second, an old instinct to be modest warring with the overwhelming need to please him. But the look in his eyes - fierce, hungry, but underneath it all, still kind and understanding - shattered your reservations. You slowly parted your thighs, exposing yourself to him completely.

To your surprise, he didn't touch you immediately. He just looked, gaze heavy. He took his time, his eyes tracing the curve of your hips and stomach, the dip of your navel, the slick folds of your center.

"Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

Then, Eddie leaned forward, bracing his hands on your thighs. The rings pressed into your skin, anchoring you, pressing you open for him. He lowered his head, his breath hot against your inner thigh as you braced yourself for the lashing of his tongue… And then he bit down. Hard.

“Ow, Eddie! What the fuck -“ You cried out, hips bucking, but he held you firm, his grip like iron. He licked the red mark he’d left, soothing the sting, then moved higher, leaving a trail of lighter bites and kisses up your thigh, teasing you, tormenting you.

“Gotta make sure you remember me, sweet girl.”

"Eddie, please," you gasped, hands fisting in the sheets. "S-stop teasing. I need... I n-need..."

"What do you need?" he asked, his voice vibrating against your skin. He was so close, his breath ghosting over where you needed him most, but of course he wouldn't give you the satisfaction. He seemed to get off on your desperation. "Tell me exactly what you need, or I'll keep you here like this all day."

"I told you need your mouth -“

“Yeah?” He placed a searing hot kiss an inch above your clit and you nearly kneed him in the side of the head. “How badly?”

“S-so badly -“

“Where do you want me?”

“This isn’t fucking funny, Eddie.”

He just chuckled, watching you helplessly writhe beneath him, trying to raise your hips to his mouth. “Kinda is, actually.”

A frustrated cry fell from your lips as he kissed you again, this time just a tad lower. Any residual shame or embarrassment for asking what you wanted for was gone, replaced by pure desperation.

“Just… Fuck - I need you t-to eat me out. Please, Eddie."

He let out a satisfied laugh. "With pleasure."

And then he was on you. He didn't ease into it or bother starting slow. He flattened his tongue and licked a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you with a groan that vibrated through your entire body. You’d never had someone between your thighs that devoured you with the intensity your friend - well, could you even call him a friend after this? - was currently doing. His mouth was hot and demanding, tongue swirling and flicking with a skill that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Eddie pleasured you with the same finesse with which he played guitar. Which was to say intensely, precisely, and somehow also with a reckless abandon that made his actions seem like second nature. As if he’d been doing this for years, and knew your body as well as he knew his own. He growled against you, the sound muffled by your flesh, his chin scraping against your sensitive skin. Eddie’s hands continued to hold your thighs open, his rings digging in, grounding you. In some twisted way, it felt like he was claiming you, bit by bit. Every time he flicked his tongue over your clit, you saw stars.

"God, Eddie," you moaned, your hips grinding against his face, seeking more. "Yes - I, fuck - just like that -

He hummed agreeably against you, the sensation sending shockwaves through your system. He shifted one of his hands, sliding two long fingers deep inside you without warning. You gasped, your inner walls clamping down around him. He curled his fingers upward, finding that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and began to pump them in and out in a relentless rhythm, all while his tongue continued its assault on your clit.

The dual stimulation was far too much for so early in the morning. You could feel the pressure building low in your belly, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every swipe of his tongue. You whimpered pitifully. Sensing you were close, Eddie didn't let up for a moment. If anything, he went harder, sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking rapidly with his tongue while his fingers fucked into you with brutal precision.

"Let go for me, baby," he commanded, voice muffled and breath still hellishly hot against you in the best way. "Lemme feel you. Now."

The command was your undoing. With a cry that tore from your throat, you shattered. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling, and your entire body shaking as release ripped through you. It was intense and overwhelming. A riptide of pleasure that drowned out everything.

Eddie worked you through it, his tongue slowing but never fully stopping, his fingers easing up as you rode out the aftershocks. You collapsed back against the mattress, gasping for air, your body limp and spent. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, and you nearly whined at the loss. He sat up, his face shiny with your arousal, and looked at you with a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"I’m not religious, but I think you taste like heaven," he said, bringing both fingers to his mouth and licking them each clean, one by one. The sight was erotic, filthy, and it made your exhausted body twitch with renewed interest.

Leaning down, Eddie braced his hands on either side of your head and captured your mouth in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. It probably should embarrassed you. Make you feel kinda weird. Yet in that moment, it was easily one of the most intimate things you had ever experienced.

"How was that?" he asked, pulling back to look at you, a smug, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Feeling any closer to ruination, baby doll?”

"Shut up," you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

He laughed against your mouth, a dark, rich sound that you’d felt like you could become hooked on for life. Eddie pulled back just enough to yank his t-shirt over his head. The fabric hit the floor, and your eyes devoured the expanse of pale skin revealed. He was a bit leaner than you’d expected, but there was a dense, compact strength to him that made your mouth water. A scattering of dark hair trailed down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. His chest was heaving, the heavy tattoos on his ribs stretching as he breathed.

You reached for him, desperate to feel the closeness of his bare skin against yours, but he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them effortlessly above your head. The position forced your chest up, arching your back, leaving you completely at his mercy.

"Mmm, none of that," he tsked, shaking his head slowly. His free hand trailed down your side, his rings scraping deliciously over your ribs. "I'm in charge here. Remember? You wanted to be ruined? So you’re gonna let me."

He leaned down, biting a path along your collarbone, sharp stinging nips that soothed instantly under the hot press of his tongue. He was mapping you with an obsessive thoroughness, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your body through touch alone. He’d released your wrists, but his hands were everywhere - skimming your waist, gripping your hips, kneading your thighs - constantly moving, as if he needed to feel every bit of you before you vanished into thin air.

"I've thought about this," he admitted against your skin, not meeting your eyes. His voice was a bit softer, as if he wasn’t sure what your reaction would be to finding out he’d been silently lusting after you. "A lot, over the years, if I’m being honest. I've, uh, laid in bed at night picturing exactly how you'd look spread out for me.”

A full-body blush flushed over your skin, and you shivered. “H-hope I met your expectations.”

Eddie finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes burning. "Oh, baby. You surpassed them. Easily.”

On one fluid motion, his hands slid to grip your hips, and the room tilted as he flipped you over. You gasped as you found yourself face-down in the pillows, your ass exposed to the cool air. Before you could move, Eddie gently shoved a pillow beneath your hips, and then his hands were on you once more, massaging the flesh.

"Look at this," he groaned, his thumbs brushing over your entrance as if he hadn’t spent the better part of an hour with his head between your thighs already. "You're fucking perfect."

You felt the bed dip as he moved, and then the metallic clink of a belt buckle being undone. The sound was loud in the quiet room, followed by the lower rasp of a zipper. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a mix of nerves and anticipation so potent it made you lightheaded.

Positioning yourself carefully on your elbows, you glanced over your shoulder to look back at him, watching as he shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

He was... Big.

You’d expected him to be… What? Average? Perhaps a little more, given his height and frame. But this was… A surprise to say the least. He was thick, heavily veined, and seemed almost dauntingly heavy. The flushed head of him already glistening with precum. Eddie’s eyes met yours as he gave you a mischievous grin and wrapped a hand around the base, slowly stroking. The sight of his fist - with those glinting silver rings - pumping himself made your mouth go completely dry.

Eddie smirked. "Like what you see?"

"I..." You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back up to his face. You were tempted to mouth off, make a flippant remark about his ego just to see where your brattiness would take you. But rational thoughts had abandoned your blissed-out brain. So you responded honestly. "You’re, uh, just… A bit bigger than I thought you’d be.”

“Think about my dick often, sweetheart?”

You made a face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“But I’m so good at it.” Eddie cocked his head thoughtfully. "Think you can handle it?"

The challenge hung in the air. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to be someone who could take him. Satisfy him. Make him forget every other person he’d ever been with so that this was more than a one-time thing. But looking at the sheer size of him, a spike of genuine apprehension pierced your haze of lust.

"I-I don't know," you admitted, voice trembling ever so slightly. Eddie’s eyes softened, his rough edges vanishing into the familiar sweet man you knew.

"Don't worry," he said, crawling back over you, covering your body with his. The weight of him felt grounding. He nestled his hips against your ass, letting you feel the hot, hard length of him sliding between you. "We’ll go slow, okay?"

“Promise?”

Eddie pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Cross my heart.”

He reached over to your nightstand, fumbling blindly in the drawer until he found a condom. He tore the foil open with his teeth - a move that was unfairly hot for some reason - and maneuvered to roll it on. Then, he shifted his weight, spreading your legs wider with his knees.

"Relax for me, baby,” he murmured, his hand stroking up and down your spine, trying to soothe the tension he could feel radiating off you. "Breathe. Just breathe."

He notched the head against your entrance, pushing forward just enough to barely enter you. The blunt pressure was immediate, a burning stretch that made you gasp into the mattress.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice low and encouraging. "Open up for me, sweetheart. God, you feel so good already, you know that?”

The praise was a balm as he pushed in deeper, agonizingly slow. You clawed at the sheets, breath hitching in your throat as inch after thick inch breached you. It felt like he was splitting you open, filling you up beyond what you thought possible. The stretch was intense, a sharp, burning friction. You knew that just beneath it would be burgeoning pleasure that made your toes curl - but it still felt far too large.

"Eddie," you whimpered, tears blurring your vision as your face pressed into the mattress. "It's... it's too much. I-I can’t -“

"Shh," he hushed you, leaning down to press kisses along your shoulders, neck, and finally to the sensitive spot behind your ear. "You can take it. I know you can. You're doing so good for me, baby."

Eddie kept pushing, feeding you his length with a relentless, aching pressure. It felt like ages until he’d seated himself fully, hips finally flush against your ass, and you let out a broken moan. You felt so incredibly full - especially at this angle - stretched to your limit with him. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the heavy heat of him pulsing inside you, his heartbeat almost as fast as your own.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping forward to rest between your shoulder blades. He was trembling with the effort of holding still, giving you time to adjust. "It's like you're choking me."

“S-sorry -“

“Oh shit, don’t apologize, angel.” Eddie let out a breathy laugh, shifting ever so slightly to once more run a hand over your back and down to your hip. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah - I - gimme a sec.”

He stayed just as he was for a long moment, letting you get used to the intrusion. You took deep, shuddering breaths, willing your muscles to relax around him. Slowly, the burning pain faded into a dull ache, and the pleasure began to creep back in.

"O-okay. Move," you breathed, pushing your hips back against him slightly, somehow nudging him even deeper. "Please, move."

He let out a guttural sound, part groan, part growl. "Hold on."

“Are you going to ruin me or not, Munson?”

At your goading, Eddie pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the head inside of you, before rocking back in. The force of the thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. He set a brutal pace immediately, no more gentle build-up - just hard, deep strokes that rattled your teeth. The bed creaked loudly under the onslaught, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. You prayed your neighbors weren’t home, because it was too late to fully silence the sounds he was pulling out of you. Skin slapped against skin - lewd sounds that filled the room, mixing with both your moans as well as his heavy breathing and steady stream of praise.

"Look at you," he gritted out, his hand wrapping around your hip, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. "Taking it so deep. S’like you’re - fucking hell - sucking me in, sweetheart. Startin’ to think you were made for me."

He reached under you, his fingers finding your clit, and he began to rub tight, rapid circles. It felt like your body caught in a vice of pleasure, and your brain was struggling to catch up. Shifting his angle slightly, his next thrust hit a spot inside you that made you see white. You cried out, your entire body convulsing. Quickly taking the hint, he locked onto that spot, abusing it with ruthless precision, driving into you over and over again.

"You like that, baby? You like it when I fuck you right there?"

"Ye- oh god, yes, Eddie, I -“

He was losing control. You could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered, in the way his grip on your hip tightened. He knew you were close, but he was also chasing his own release, using your body to get there, and the thought of him losing himself inside you pushed you closer to the edge.

Just as the surface of the mattress seems to fall away from under you as your release overtop you, Eddie bit down on your shoulder as he slammed into you one last time. He buried himself to the hilt, and stilled. You felt him pulse inside you, the condom filling with his release as he let out a long, ragged moan in your ear. The sensation triggered your own aftershock-like wave that rippled through your exhausted body.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy and suffocating, but you didn't care. You wrapped your arms around his forearms, holding him close, listening to the frantic racing of his heart as it began to slow.

For a long time, neither of you moved. You just lay there, tangled together, sweaty and sticky and completely wrecked. You could feel the harsh pattern of his breathing against your back, the occasional twitch of his hips as he came down, though he hadn’t pulled out of you just yet.

Finally, he shifted, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice raspy and wrecked.

"Better than okay," you mumbled into the pillow, a satisfied smile stretching your lips.

He laughed against your skin. "Good. Because after that, I don’t think I want anyone else to have you.”

“Gonna keep me all for yourself, Munson?”

“Obviously.”

Your index finger traced one of the tattooed bats on his forearm thoughtfully. “Because you ruined me?”

“Oh, no sweetheart.” Eddie laughed again, stroking your hair and pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “I think you’re the one who ruined me.”