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CW: angst, hurt/comfort, invasion of privacy, Gareth's a really good bandmate.
WC: 1837
Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff & Grant, Future Fic, post season 4, everyone lives/no one dies, Rockstar!Eddie Munson
Rating: T
Summary: The men of Corroded Coffin rebrand themselves, and are discovered in a way that they hadn't anticipated.
Series: Written for @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow event
Song:
He had to look it up.
He had to fucking look it up, like he’s old or out of touch or some shit.
And he’s not.
42 isn’t old, not by any stretch of the imagination. And Eddie Munson has a pretty fucking active imagination - always has, always will. But he had no idea what it meant, and he had to look it up.
It made him feel a little bit better that his drummer, four whole-ass years younger than him, didn’t know what it meant, either. So together, protected by the four sturdy walls of their tiny studio, that soothing clicky-clack of digital keys tickle his eardrums as he fills in the search bar.
Doxxed.
“Fuck,” Gareth hisses from his perch over his shoulder, and Eddie’s mouth twists into a thin line.
Fuck is right.
It suddenly makes sense. The strange interactions that he gets walking the streets of Atlanta: some folks appear appraising; delighted, even.
Some are flat-out disgusted.
Others? Downright feral.
This explains the calls from their manager, Sam. He swore he was just checking in, but… the guy never “just checks in.”
Guess he was, because this landmine of an article from TMZ is damning.
There he is, in all his fucking glory: Eddie Munson, lead singer of the wild, no-holds-bar metal band that quite literally bends the boundaries of their genre.
And below, their drummer, Gareth Emerson. The rhythm guitarist, Jeff Richards. Bassist, Grant Goodman.
In the flesh, front and center. Right where they never meant to be.
They’re Corroded Coffin, even after all these years, but they’re not. They ditched the old name with the old ties to the old town with the history in favor of anonymity. A new name, a new sound, a new city with stellar costumes that disguise them from head to toe. It was the only way that they were ever going to give it back out there as a band; if they wanted to make it, they had to try.
And they did.
Took a page out of Slipknot’s book and concealed their identities. Paved their own way when they seamlessly weaved in other genres of music into their own works, creating metal that was universal and a fan base as wide as the fucking Atlantic.
Sure, they had their haters. Metal purists loathed their style.
None of them thought anyone would be as malicious as this, to go digging so far and and release his fucking birth certificate. Gareth's drivers license. Jeff’s home address in Hawkins.
And those TMZ fuckers ran with it.
Ten days ago.
And he had been none the wiser.
He hasn’t felt this kind of panic since Nancy Wheeler dove headfirst into Lover’s Lake after Steve Harrington.
“Gare,” Eddie’s chest feels as if it may burst under the pressure that squeezes upon him on all sides, “what are we gonna do?”
It’s so much worse than he thought.
Reporters. Fans. Everybody wants a piece of Eddie Munson.
Some are still angry with how he didn’t stand trial for his “crimes” back in ‘86. Some are just wanting eyes on them, desperate for any sliver of attention that the frontman will give.
But that’s the thing – he doesn’t want to give it. He wants zero attention, zero accolades for what he’s built. He just wants to make music with his friends, like he’s always done. He wants to avoid all of this. All of the superficial love, all of the deep-seeded hate. He knew this would happen. Fucking call him clairvoyant or some shit, because this is playing out exactly like he thought it was going to.
Allow an alleged murderer to have a successful career?
No. He’s living out the will of Satan, right up there with the goddamn Antichrist. He couldn’t do that to the guys. They’d never make it.
So, slap a mask on him. Hide him away. Gareth loved the idea for all of them. Jeff and Grant did, too.
But suddenly… he’s alluring. Captivating. Mysterious. A mountain of sex appeal that frankly, he doesn’t even know what to do with.
He just wants to sing. He just wants to perform, because there’s nothing like being on stage. It’s liberating, having the freedom to express the deepest, realest, blackest parts of yourself to thousands of screaming fans who sing the lines right back to him.
And then to go home. Walk the streets like he didn’t just sell out a stadium. Order lunch at his favorite deli without getting mobbed. No lingering stares, no pointed fingers.
No. Eddie left that all in the past.
Or so he thought.
The doors are locked. Windows, too. He’s curled up on his couch, too numb to move. It’s been hours since he drove home and found his home vandalized – garage door spray painted in familiar rhetoric befitting of the small-minded folks of Hawkins. He wasn’t able to wash off half of it when he was blindsided by a gaggle of reporters flooding his property. He fled, then – running inside to avoid their incessant questioning; and even now, some of them still linger, trying to catch a glimpse of the man with the sordid past.
It’s exhausting.
But apparently, not enough to sleep. Tossing and turning, he gives up the game and calls Gareth at 2:30am.
“I can’t stop reading everything that’s out there about us,” Eddie croaks as soon as his drummer picks up.
Gareth’s voice is surprisingly clear, like Eddie’s not the only one struggling to sleep. “You have to.”
“I can’t.”
A low chuckle. “Do you need me to come over and take your phone away from you?”
Eddie answers with a hollow one of his own. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Well, your wingspan is like a mile long. I wouldn’t be able to keep it out of your reach for three seconds.”
Eddie hums, ears perking at the sound of voices outside. His head hangs. There’ll be no peace for him tonight.
Gareth calls him back to the present. “Ed.”
“Yeah?”
“We can still make music. We can still tour. We can still do all the things that we –”
“You know we can’t.”
“Why?”
Eddie’s throat tightens. Gareth’s so optimistic, sometimes. He hates that he has to be the one to crush it. His dreams, his spirit, his fuckin’ livelihood.
The silence is telling. Gareth’s tone drops. “You don’t think the fans will stick with us?”
Letting loose a shaky breath, Eddie admits, “Not to me.”
Gareth wisely lets that sit for a long moment before offering assurance. “The real ones will.”
Smiling sadly to the darkness, Eddie breaks it to him gently. “No, Gare. I don’t think they will. I think they’re gonna be devastated, and then outraged. And rightfully so.”
“What the fuck? Why do you say that?”
There’s real pain lacing his tone as he says, “I hid this from them.”
“It was none of their business,” Gareth fires back. “You didn’t kill Chrissy. Patrick. Any of them.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Seems to me you’re more than content for feeling guilt over shit that you never did. You never had anything to do with. It didn’t even go to trial, man. They had nothing on you!”
Eddie ignores his best friend’s logic and tries for some of his own. “The band is gonna get so much hate now. You guys don’t deserve that.”
That garners a genuine laugh from the drummer. “Dude, in case you didn’t notice, we already get a ton of hate.”
Brow furrowing, he flops back on his pillows and reminds Gareth, “Not like this. It’s gonna be different.”
He can hear the shrug in Gareth’s tone. “It all sounds the same, honestly. Wah, wah, wah, wahahah –”
A hint of a smile plays on Eddie’s lips before he squashes it. “Stop.”
“I’m just saying,” Gareth chides like he knows he succeeded in coaxing out a grin, “we’re not backing down. We’re not stepping away. Nothing less forever. Including this. We were not going to stay a secret, the entirety of our careers. You have to know that.”
Well, fuck this kid for being so goddamn wise. “I wanted to,” he laments, “I don’t wanna be…”
“In the limelight?”
“Exactly.”.
“Well. Neither do we. And now we’re gonna be. But the thing is, we can control how much, to some extent.”
Eddie’s brow furrows. “We can’t control the press. Or the crazy fans.”
“Not all of them are crazy,” Gareth reminds him, “and that was always going to be out of our control. What I’m saying is, We don’t magically have to start doing interviews. We don’t have to lose the anonymity that we bring to the stage. We can keep all that, man. We don’t have to confirm or deny anything.”
For the first time in hours, a weight feels like it’s been lifted. “What do you mean?”
“Okay, so we got doxxed. They may have gotten our identities right, but let them wonder. Let us be the only one that really knows who we are. We don’t owe anybody anything.”
“There’ll be people –”
Gareth cuts him off. “Since when do you care what people think?”
“I don’t.” It’s weak, how he says it. No fire behind it, not like there used to be, and Gareth knows it. “I guess I can’t believe this happened. That someone would actually going and do this.”
“Yeah,” the receiver crackles as Gareth whooshes out a breath. “I’m gutted, too. Loved being a man of mystery.”
Eddie barks out a laugh, surprising himself. “Cut the shit. You are the least mysterious of all of us. Fuckin’ boring-ass, married old man.”
“I know,” he sighs dreamily, “it’s glorious.”
Eddie’s smile quickly fades. “I’m just so…”
“What are you? Tell me.”
“Upset,” he mutters. “Disappointed. Bitter. Livid.”
“Good. You should be all those things.”
“I feel — like I’m backed into a corner and I’m gonna bite the first hand that reaches out. Fuck, I kinda wanna punch someone. The one who did this.”
“Also understandable, but you can’t retaliate like that. You’re better than that, Ed. Cmon.”
“What do we do?” he asks, hoping it’ll remedy how helpless he feels. “I feel like I can’t do shit.”
“We can do what we’ve always done.”
Eddie snickers softly. “Smoke some weed and write?”
“Maybe.”
“If I write right now, I’ll be breathing fire. It won’t be nice.”
Gareth considers this for just a fraction of a second. “Maybe it needs to be mean.”
Maybe it does. “Is it weird that I wanna scream at the world, and at the same time, beg them to still be our fans? Wish it all away so we can go back to the way it was?”
Gareth grunts, and Eddie hears rustling as he mumbles something to his wife. Her sleepy answer is too low for Eddie’s ears to pick up, but he hears Gareth whisper that he’ll be back soon.
“C’mon,” the drummer murmurs into the speaker. “I’ll meet you at the studio.”
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Vampire whimpering and moaning while he drinks your blood and he gets all breathless as he tells you how good you taste and also he’s jacking off the whole time. Think about it.
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You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
CW: Uhm, so... this started as an amazing idea from @rip-quizilla that just spiraled. Snowballed. Exploded. It's fucking filthy, y'all. It's basically 1300+ words of smut, and Pleasure!Dom!Eddie is at your service. Overstimulation, oral (f receiving), degradation, bisexual!Eddie Munson, pet names, teasing, edging, vaginal fingering + other hand stuff, unprotected sex, rough sex, and a delightful little bisexual surprise at the end.
WC: 1313
Rating: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Pairings: Bisexual!Eddie Munson x Reader (could also been seen as bi, not explicitly stated), background Steve Harrington x Reader's Best Friend (unnamed)
Fuck it, let's just assume everyone's bi
Summary: Your best girlfriend goes to great lengths to set you up with the one and only Eddie Munson while he's home from touring. Expecting to meet the soft dom to your brat, you get a hell of a lot more than you intended.
written for @corrodedcoffinfest seven deadly sins halloween event
It feels like it’s been hours.
You’ve lost all track of time, of space, of your sense of self. This dark-haired, brown-eyed demon of a man has made a home for himself in between your thighs for – forever. Something worth celebrating if you weren’t so exhausted, so spent, so fucking overstimulated you oscillate between crying out in blissful agony and basking in the peak of sensations when your clit does finally go numb.
Only to be brought back to the precipice again. Dextrous fingers, sinful lips and a torturous tongue – weapons of your demise, one that you were so keen on throttling yourself headfirst into until you really figured out what Eddie Munson was all about.
Your pleasure.
This madness began earlier in the evening at Steve’s – your best friend’s boyfriend’s game night, which was really a poorly disguised way for you and Eddie to meet. Your friend, however, had your true interests at heart.
“Believe the rumors,” her tipsy giggles warmed your skin as she took another sip of wine, “he’s an insanely good fuck.”
Deciding not to ask how she knew, you opted for the sure thing and showed up dressed to kill. You made it clear you were interested, and Eddie wasn’t bashful about his affections. Very obvious flirting morphed into lingering gazes, bitten lips, batted eyelashes and brazen touches. Bolstered by two (rather large) glasses of wine, you perched on his lap and tossed him a satisfied smirk when your ass was treated to quite the mass beneath Eddie’s fly.
Steve and his girl were treated to maybe a little more than they bargained for – Eddie’s right hand had a way of wandering beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers lightly teasing the soaked gusset of your panties while you were expected to pay attention to the game. Steve did his best to avert his eyes while your friend couldn’t keep hers away, offering you several heavy-lidded winks in lieu of stealing glances of the debauchery on the opposite couch.
*
Touch me how I know you want to.
God, you thought you were being so coy, leaning back against his sturdy chest to whisper those words into the shell of his ear. Thought you were being so smooth, grinding your ass on his erection that had filled out to an intimidating plenty.
You wouldn’t say you were regretting it now, but oh – you are definitely in over your head.
Eddie curls his fingers along that ridged bundle of nerves in your front wall, sending your head back into the pillows with a belting moan. “Yeah, that the spot, sweetheart?” Agile digits drum a relentless rhythm that tightly winds the coil again. He chuckles darkly, leaning in close. “Should I fingerfuck you harder? Fuck you with my tongue again?” Eddie snickers as your walls clench around his fingers. “Oh, yeah? Tough girl is such a slut for a good tongue fucking, isn’t she?”
Never in your life did you expect to crave degradation like this, but something about it awakens a whole plethora of erotic possibilities.
“Say it,” he demands.
“I – hah –”
Eddie tuts. “Oh now, I don’t have you that fucked out, do I? Go on, tell me you’re a whore for what my mouth does to you.”
“Eddie –”
He sighs, feigning exasperation as he lowers himself between your legs. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you.”
Hips bucking as he latches his lips over your puffy clit, you bawl, “I c-can’t!”
“Sure you can.”
Impossibly plush lips surround his lapping tongue, the most exquisite torture over your sensitized bud. Your whole body ignites, careening you to another release, more intense than that rose vibrator you have at home.
You didn’t think that was possible.
The reedy whine that slices through the sex-drenched air as you come sounds different than yours.
Eddie cocks his head. “Ohhh, are we feeling left out?”
Panting hard as you come down to earth, your head lolls to your left to where your best friend lies, fighting her bound wrists and squirming impatiently. Eddie slips his phone from his back pocket and turns up the power on the vibrator nestled in her pussy.
“So sorry, sweet girl,” he coos as she cries out. “There you go.”
You whisper her name, eyes glazed over as she turns her head towards you. “You okay?”
Her chest is heaving as she replies, “I’d be b-better if the asshole’d let me come.”
You bark out a weary half-laugh. “I’d give you some’a mine, fuck –”
“You sound ungrateful, sweetheart.”
Your gasp matches hers as Eddie crawls over your body. “Haven’t you had enough?”
His pillowy lips shine with your release. “There’s no such thing as too much pussy, sweetheart.” Lifting the fingers once buried inside you, he sucks them clean. “I intend to eat all night.”
It’s all you can do to push a whimper through your nose, synonymous with the one that falls from your friend’s lips as Eddie slips the now-silent vibrator from her cunt. He brings the pink silicone to his nose, eyes rolling in ecstasy as he inhales her scent. The longsword blade ripples as the cords of his neck strain to hone in on the naked man bound and gagged in the corner of the room.
Eddie saunters over, removing your panties from his mouth. “Here you go, Harrington,” he shoves the toy past Steve’s reddened lips, “have a taste of your girl.”
Gagging around the intrusion, Steve’s cock kicks up against his belly as he moans.
Eddie slowly fucks Steve’s mouth with the vibrator. “What do you think we should do to them, hmm? Wanna fuck em? Make ‘em come til they cry? Or you wanna edge them with me?” He grins devilishly as he steals a glance over his shoulder at you. “That could be fun.”
Steve’s answer is muffled behind silicone, and Eddie glides it once more over his tongue before dropping it into Steve’s lap. The younger man gasps in a breath before rasping,
“Y-you – ah, you –”
“Me?” Eddie’s one hand splays over his heart while the other wraps around Steve’s neglected cock. “Use your words, King Steve.”
“Both,” Steve whimpers at the unexpected contact, “wanna watch you fuck them both.”
“Why, Steve, you’re gifting me your girlfriend's cunt, again? So sweet of you, pretty boy.” Eddie’s hand picks up speed. “Daddy’s pretty little boy.”
Steve trembles and jerks, breathy ah-ah-ahs tumble from slackened lips before Eddie abruptly stops, tugging at Steve’s balls to stave off his impending orgasm.
Eddie flashes the younger man a villainous grin. “Wanna do it like we did last time?” Steve nods dumbly, and Eddie sheds his jeans, finally freeing his formidable length. “Tell me, then.”
“Fuck my girl,” Steve whines through a grunt, hips humping the air in desperation. “F–fuck her best friend.”
A thrill runs hot down your spine, settling a need deep inside your already oversensitive core.
“A-and when you’re done,” the gravel rolls wanton in Steve’s tone, “let me fuck your come back into them…”
“And?” Eddie presses when Steve trails off. “What’ll I do while you’re dicking down those pretty little pussies?”
“That’s right.” Eddie grabs Steve by his cheeks and kisses him forcefully, bullying his tongue that delved so deep in your cunt into the depths of Steve’s mouth.
Releasing the boy, Eddie stalks over to the bed, hooking his arms under your legs to better expose your puffy cunt. He tuts as your friend whines, begging him to fuck her first as he teases his head through your sopping folds.
“There’s enough of my dick to go around, baby.” In one swift movement, Eddie slams his cock to the hilt, groaning a blissed-out fuck as you wail out his name. “Be patient and wait your turn.”
CW: Allusions to smut, jealousy, modern!au, implied that Corroded Coffin met in college
WC: 1313
Tags: Eddie Munson x you, references to Gareth Emerson x you in the past
Rating: M
Summary: based on an anonymous ask
Anonymous asked:
I’m hoping I’m in the right spot for submitting requests… but I’d love something where y/n is dating Eddie but Gareth has a crush on you and has had one even before Eddie.. no one knew until Eddie notices how Gareth looks at you during their band practices. He keeps it to himself and then lets it slip on how amazing you are in bed to his best friend Gareth to make him jealous in a way. Later, he walks in on you and Eddie (oral f receive) and is unable to resist the excitement in his pants (Voyeurism) Eddie catches him in the act … goes to Gareth somehow joining in under the fixation of Eddie proving he’s a better lay ?? Whatever you come up with with this will be amazing though.. thank you!!
part 1 of 2 - enjoy, loves
written for @corrodedcoffinfest seven deadly sins halloween event
“I swear to Christ,” Gareth caws over the belly laughter of his friends, “Eddie flat-out murdered this chick. Those noises she was making last night could have peeled paint off the goddamn walls.”
Grant belts an elongated ohhhh at the end of a rather raucous string of cackles. “Was it the same one he took home last weekend?”
“Couldn’t say. She was out the door before I got up, same as the last one.”
“And the one before that,” Jeff quips. “You know… he’s been pretty secretive lately. With his hookups, I mean.”
“You’re his roommate,” Grant says, to which Gareth mutters a flat unfortunately, “what do you think?”
Gareth twirls his drumstick through his nimble fingers, reflecting on just how true that is. Ed has a tendency to overshare when it comes to his sexcapades – not that Gareth minds. There hasn’t been a groupie his frontman’s brought home that hasn’t sounded like they’ve had fun (several times over), and far be it from Gareth to forego a free rundown from Eddie Munson’s manual for multiple orgasms.
That fucker.
Gareth can’t deny that over the last several months their conversations over morning coffee have been far less detailed. Could that mean Eddie’s found someone worth keeping around?
“Dunno,” he shrugs. “Guess it does make y’wonder.”
The men of Corroded Coffin don’t have to wonder long.
After their third hour of practice two Saturdays later, Eddie calls it with a satisfied grin plastered beneath his sweaty shag. He’s uncharacteristically quiet as the band winds down, and it isn’t until Jeff’s confirming everyone’s pizza order that he speaks up.
“Uhh – Jeff? Would you mind adding a margherita pizza to that? A –” Eddie coughs awkwardly, “a medium?”
Jeff looks about as perplexed as Gareth feels. “Sure?” He skeptically parrots the order. “You realize that kind of pizza has absolutely no meat on it whatsoever, right?”
Baby blue eyes narrow suspiciously as Ed wrings the back of his neck with a nervous palm. “Oh, shit,” Gareth points an accusatory finger at his best friend, “it’s for a chick, isn’t it?” A delicate blush dusts Eddie’s cheeks, and Gareth whoops grandly, “Ha! It is!”
It only takes Eddie three minutes to settle the obnoxious ribbing of his bandmates before he explains that yes, it is for a girl – one he’s been seeing exclusively for the last four months or so.
“I think it’s getting pretty serious,” he admits sheepishly, ducking his head as Grant claps him on his back.
“Good for you, dude. Kinda sucks you’re ditching us, though.”
“Actually,” Eddie perks up, “would you guys mind if she comes over? I want you to meet her.”
Gareth smirks, darting his knowing stare to Jeff and Grant. “Fine with me.” He flashes Eddie a wicked grin. “It’ll be nice to finally put a face with –”
Eddie groans. “Don’t even finish that sentence, man –”
“– with a name!” Gareth splays a hand over his heart, cackling as Eddie tugs a lock of curls over his mouth. “A name – certainly not noises that rival a fuckin’ banshee – ummph!”
Gareth’s ribbing stops there, snuffed out by Eddie’s good-natured headlock and a rather enthusiastic twist of his nipple.
Soon, there’s a slam of a car door from down the drive, and Eddie’s up like a shot. Gareth rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the garage fridge, chuckling at his best friend’s behavior and grabbing a few beers before turning around.
Ice blue eyes round out in shock; Gareth swears his heart stops dead in his chest.
“And that over there is Gareth. Gare, this is –”
He finishes his best friend’s sentence for him, a choked-out uttering of your name that sounds more like a question than a statement of fact. Although, it’s every bit of both – because there at the mouth of his and Eddie’s garage stands you.
His childhood best friend.
His high school sweetheart.
His first love.
His first… everything.
You were his fucking everything – until about eight years ago when you called it quits as you packed up your car and left him and your hometown in your rearview mirror, tearfully spouting off some shit your older sister fed you about not bringing sand to the beach.
He’s gawking. Christ – he knows he is, but he can’t help it. He can’t fucking believe this — it’s just his luck that Eddie’s bright and shiny new girlfriend is you.
“Uhh, why are you looking at her like that?” Eddie shifts nervously on his feet. “Do you two know each other or something?”
Quickly schooling his face neutral, Gareth waits – predictably acquiescing the lead to you, like the goddamn pushover he is.
“Y-yeah,” you breathe, “Gareth and I went to high school together.”
Your lids flare wide, a silent plea to not say more. A tight smile stretches Gareth’s lips thin as he does his best to ignore the knife lodged in his gut. “Yep. High school. Long time ago.”
Eddie looks relieved. “No shit?” Gareth doesn’t answer while you avert your eyes, nodding on his behalf. “Huh. What are the odds?”
Gareth swallows a scathing scoff. What are the odds, indeed.
The truth eventually comes out.
After completely losing his shit, Eddie is understandably conflicted; torn between wanting to continue what’s become the ‘best relationship of his life’ and wanting to do right by his best friend.
Gareth spends countless nights convincing him that it’s fine – it’s perfectly fine. He’s fine, everything is fine and Eddie should continue to date you. Gareth insists, actually – assurances like long-ass time ago and completely over it pepper their late night talks, again and again.
Until finally, Eddie relents. Takes his best friend at his word, even though Gareth’s lying through his teeth. If Eddie suspects, he’s too elated to show it. He’s thrown himself headfirst into this thing with you, which means you’re around a lot.
A fucking lot.
And — well, you and Gareth’s roommate are fucking. A lot.
It’s not every night you’re there, thank fuck. In fact, Gareth can concede it began with more nights spent at your place than his. But that changed, slowly like the melting of one season to another.
It was fine, and then it wasn't. Eventually, Gareth starts to harden.
He tries. He really does, but intrusive thoughts have a way of needling a mind relentlessly when running on minimal sleep.
How is she with him?
Why didn’t you fight harder?
What’s so special about Eddie?
Why didn’t he fight harder?
Why is the only woman he’s ever loved lying next to his best friend in the room across the hall?
Envy is a hunter in the night. She slithers in dirty shades of green, taunting every interaction with a hollow boring in his gut, with narrowed eyes and snappish retorts. It’s nauseating how he longs. Craves. Selfishly wanting and silently wishing the worst on the best thing Ed’s ever had for his own goddamn gain. He’s ashamed, he really is. He knows better than to let his stare linger, to find excuses to feel the electricity of your skin beneath his fingertips, even if just for a fraction of a second.
But he does it anyway, and he keeps coming back for more.
His sins are an inkblot on his soul, leaving behind dead tissue that reeks of his jealousy, whispering their justification to every ignored text and every lie he tells to preserve what little peace is left in his own home.
Time doesn’t kill; it attenuates his weakness in terrible waves. Horrid swells, ravenous for more — because what little he’s granted of you is never enough.
He’s a broken man. Hands balled into fists as the lullabye of your moans drifts into his room, he’s furious how hungry it makes him.
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