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pullingyourstrings · 1 month

Note

If requests are open.. I have one.

If you want, can you do another Gareth x Reader smut?

The plot would be entirely on you, but with some ideas.

Dead of Winter. It's cold and the two were best friends, but as they stay close together for warmth, things get more heated.

Thank you so much for the request ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

What started as a one-shot quickly turned into this…

Part I of III

CW: Part I is rather tame, plot and some pining. And Gareth sass. Always Gareth sass.

Parts II and III will be more of the Explicit level rating. As always, my blog is 18+ ONLY.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, virgin!Gareth x virgin!fem!reader, Modern AU, Eventual smut, Fluffy as can be

Word count: 6K+

A/N: this is a modern college au, eventual smut, characters are 20/21 years of age. If the content and characters make you uncomfortable, kindly stop here and do not engage with the story.

❄️❄️❄️

“Please, please, please can I borrow that brown Henley? I’m freezing my tits off, G!”

Gareth grunts as he shoves at his apartment door, the way the wind whips the frozen flakes at his face makes it near impossible to shoulder it open.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from muttering in his typical Gareth Emerson grumpy way,

“Stop talking about your tits, woman.”

Your teeth chatter incessantly as he tries again to no avail, the dull thud of his upper body against the entry echoes through the empty outdoor corridor.

Hugging yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm, you shiver again, the icy prickle of Indiana winter shudders down your spine.

“Garethhh!”

“I know, I know — god, fucking — I’m trying to get this goddamned frozen door —” one more well-placed shove has you both toppling through the threshold into the mercifully warm interior of Gareth’s shared apartment.

You elbow him right in the gut, forcefully nudging him out of your way as you clamber into his living room, completely missing the front doormat where he balances his precarious position to not track in the slush from his snow boots.

You don’t even bother with the rug, wanting as much distance between you and the outdoors as possible.

Gareth opens his mouth to chastise you and how you’re tracking in clumps of snow and slush, but he can’t find it in him to do it. Not now, not while he opts to watch you clumsily work your way out of your boots and coveralls rather than practicing better roommate etiquette and have you both shuck your snow-laden gear outside.

His smile grows wider when he sees you stumble, flicking cold little balls of ice around his tiny living room.

At least the University had the foresight to replace all the carpet in their apartments this year; it makes you feel a little bad when the half-melted pellets of snow catch your attention, littering the new barnwood-esque planks in your wake. If it were last semester, Gareth would have undoubtedly grumbled at you for making a mess, griped at you for being such a disaster of a friend, and then bitched as he cleaned it up for you.

You press your lips together and smirk, the familiarity of him warming your insides in a way that only ten-plus years of friendship can.

Gareth tiptoes around the tiny muddy puddles to his room, where you’re already elbow deep in his top drawer, rifling through his clothes.

“Dude,” Gareth groans at how you make quick work through the dresser, “that’s my shit! Don’t go through my shit!”

He strides into his room, hip-checking you out of the way, making you stumble. You put on a pout, making a bigger deal about your predicament than what’s deserved.

“I’m just cold,” you whine, bouncing on the balls of your feet like a petulant child. “That blizzard’s bullshit.”

Gareth snorts through his nose. “I know, hun. Wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Ruined our sledding trip,” you sulk, though there’s no real sadness behind it. An hour or so of dragging that sled up and down the hills at the park in knee-deep powder was more than enough, especially now that you’re here at his and likely will be for the rest of the evening.

His crooked grin tugs at your heart, just like it has daily for the last several years. “Ah, bet we can go tomorrow. See if they guys wanna come.” His head snaps up as his crystalline eyes find yours. “Oooh, or you new bestie Hannah from pottery class.”

A tiny flash of jealousy sears your insides, though you do your best to stamp it down. “You’re thinking of Sarah. Hannah’s the one from psych.”

Gareth’s always been observant, his penchant for remembering details astounding. But when it comes to your stunningly gorgeous and stunningly single friends? Is he just telling you to invite them so you’ll feel more comfortable? Have more fun? Or… does he wanna make a move, or is he like, being a wingman for Eddie, maybe?

It shouldn’t matter – Gareth and you? Just friends. Have been just friends for the better part of ten years. There’s comfort in that kind of stability, his incessant ribbing makes you feel right at home, like one of the guys.

It’s just… sometimes you wish he would care instead of bantering with you like siblings do.

“Whatever,” he grumbles as he dives back into his drawer, “bring your new besties. They’re fun.” Gareth shoves his nose into a balled-up mess of comfy clothes, grimacing as he hands it over. “I think these are clean.”

“Such a gentleman,” you deadpan, snatching the sweats that you know will be fine before retreating to Jeff’s room to change.

The half-folded mass of clothes gets tossed on the bed as you shimmy out of your leggings that are soaked from the knee down. You’re quick to remove and replace your snow-drenched outerwear for Gareth’s, smiling to yourself as you inhale his scent that’s taken up residence in the collar of his Henley.

Your favorite Henley.

You fold your underwear and shove it in the deep pocket of his sweats, knowing he’ll probably have an aneurysm if he finds them in his laundry.

Not that he would really care. But, there’s something about underwear that just crosses a line for you, and probably for him. Like you’d be suggesting something untoward…

Even though you’d be more than okay if he took it that way. Moments like this make you ache for what could possibly be on the other side of the line of friendship, the one you’ve spent the better part of ten years drawing in the sand with Gareth. Yeah, that line.

So now, the soft, black bikini briefs get shoved to the bottom of the deep pocket of his joggers; out of sight, out of mind.

With a sigh, you pad out of Jeff’s room, bundled head-to-toe in Gareth’s clothes, and as you lean into the bathroom to toss yours in the laundry hamper, he looks up from his phone from where he sits on the couch, monitoring your every move with intention as you amble to the couch.

You pause, catching his stare with a raised brow. “What?”

His hat-matted ringlets bounce around head as he shakes and denies. “Nothing.”

“Okay, weirdo.”

“Not weird,” he chuffs, baby blues flicking over your frame before focusing back on his screen, “just unfair you look better in those sweats than I do.”

It’s not unusual for you and Gareth to flirt – on occasion. Okay, on the rare occasion. It’s just typically done under the protection of a buffer. Namely, Eddie. Or cheap beer.

So, today’s little quippy compliment takes you by surprise — and you do your best to play it off.

Despite the heat that rushes to your cheeks, you peel yourself away from that line and innocently flutter your eyelashes as you inquire with a spin on your feet,

“Oh, I do?”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Don’t be – don’t rub it in, you ass.” He flicks his chin toward the kitchen. “Make me some coffee.”

You’re tempted to make a comment about your ass, because yeah, it looks phenomenal in these. The thick cotton is loose enough that it doesn’t cling, but you fill it out just right so all of your curves are rounded in a way that has it decided: he’s not getting these sweatpants back.

Bolstered a bit by your plans for petty theft, you slip him a sarcastic yes, dear as you make your way around his and Jeff’s tiny, boxed-in kitchenette.

An idea hits you when you open the pantry door and find a box of Swiss Miss next to the coffee grounds.

“Hey,” you call over your shoulder, “want hot chocolate instead?”

“Nah,” Gareth replies distractedly, no doubt he’s nose-deep in his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You suppress a grin as warmth blooms in your chest at the thought of how inundated with videos your inbox is about to be. “Want coffee.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t need all that extra caffeine. It’s like five o’clock, you’ll be up all night.”

“You sound like you’re thirty,” he snarks, and you can hear as much as see that little curl of his upper lip in his retort. “What if I wanna be up all night?”

“Doing what?” you mutter out of earshot, but dutifully pull out both. His funeral, you suppose.

You’re no further in the preparation of sweet, chocolatey warm relief and your favorite weirdo’s coffee when the lights flicker once before the gentle thrum of the fluorescent light above you goes out. The heat from the vent above the kitchen table ceases, and the apartment is abruptly thrust into darkness.

Your head lolls back on your shoulders, and you match Gareth’s groan from the den.

“Well, fuck,” you murmur as you blindly gather up your mess and with wide eyes still unadjusted to the black space in front of you, shuffle forward to find the handle on the cabinet.

Gareth’s phone light comes bouncing into your space, the blue hue illuminates his features scrunched in concern.

“You ok?”

The phone provides enough brightness to find the pantry. “Yeah, of course,” you chuff with a shrug, shoving the coffee canister back in its place. “Just a power outage.”

“You should probably stay,” Gareth blurts, sucking in a breath when he sees the bewildered look on your face. “I mean, Jeff just texted and said he’s staying at Vanessa’s until the storm passes. So, it’s um, bad enough that – that you should just stay.”

You nod slowly, eyebrows high on your forehead. “Yeah, Gare. I’d planned on it.” You regard him curiously. “Even before the power went out.” You add a, “That okay?” for good measure, just in case.

Shoot. Maybe he wasn’t planning on having you stay. Maybe he has plans already —

“Yeah, ‘course I want you to stay,” he shrugs, unbothered. “Didja make coffee, or…?”

He leans around you to glance at the stove, his sudden proximity shocking to you. “N-no,” you stammer, swallowing before recovering with a shove to his shoulder. Gareth groans dramatically, and slumps limply into your arms.

“Jesus,” you grunt, struggling to hold up his deadweight with a grin. “G’off me, you lug.”

He stumbles, regaining his balance, and even in the low light you can see he’s beaming. “C’mon, it’s gonna get fucking frigid in here.”

Gareth grabs your hand and leads you to the couch, there’s no hiding the thrill that rakes down your spine at his touch.

“S-so,” you cut through your nerves with a neutral topic as you stumble over your feet, “Jeff’s at Vanessa’s, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gareth flops on the couch, tugging your hand to pull you under in his arm. “He’s spent like every night there this week.”

“You’re kidding.” Gareth shrugs as he yanks the blanket over both sets of legs propped on the flimsy coffee table. “Things really seem to be going well with her.”

“Yeah, he’s happy about it.”

“How did they meet?”

Mischief flashes in his blue eyes. “You know, that’s the thing! Any time I ask he’s all dodgy about it. Changes the subject and shit.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse with a quirk of an eyebrow. “She better not be married or something.”

Gareth tosses his head back and laughs. “That’s not it. I have a feeling they met over mutual interests.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

He snickers. “Yeah, it’s nice all right.” The stocky arm slung over your shoulder tightens fractionally before Gareth’s off the couch, the warm press of his body gone, leaving you chilled and exposed. “Gonna go grab some candles. I know we have at least one in the bathroom.”

“Setting the mood?” you tease with a suggestive inflection of your tone.

Curls rattle around his head in a definitive shake, punctuated by a soft snort. He tosses you a very sarcastic you wish over his shoulder, the beam of light from his phone fading as he pads across the room.

“Yeah,” you mutter to yourself, eyes adjusting to the darkness with a sullen press of your lips. “Maybe I do.”

Gareth’s only gone for a minute before he returns with full hands and a huge, lopsided grin – all of the extra tea candles from pumpkin carving at Halloween were left to live another day in the very back of his tiny bathroom closet. He’s proud of his find, you can tell – it takes just a few minutes of working in tandem to light the wicks and provide you two with a comfortable amount of light. To you, the mood is set, the tiny goldenrod flames cast very flattering shadows over Gareth’s squared jawline that’s only sharpened with age, much to your chagrin.

The opposite end of the couch seems like an appropriate place to settle, and so you do, burrowing yourself in the stiff cushions with a rather racy novel you just started reading as recommended by your girlfriends.

You can feel his eyes on you, watching as your tongue darts between your lips to wet the pad of your finger and turn to the next page. He clears his throat before asking,

“You’re gonna read by candlelight?”

Your eyes keep to the page as you murmur a sound that implies, yes indeed – you plan to do just that.

Gareth snickers as he digs a socked toe into your calf. “How very Little House on the Prairie of you.”

A giggly groan bubbles over your lips. “Shut up. You could stand to read a book.”

He’s completely affronted by your accusation. “I read!”

“Playboy doesn't count.”

“Oh give me a break,” he barks, “I don’t read fucking Playboy.”

You have to bite your bottom lip to hide the tiny snorts of laughter that escape through your nose. “Fine, fine. Playgirl doesn’t— ahh!”

Gareth snatches your ankle from where it’s tucked under in at your bum and yanks you towards him on the couch. “You’re being a menace,” he accuses as he tugs again, spurred on by your yelps of surprise, “and I’m one-hundred percent sure those books you read are absolutely filthy and offer no better substance than —”

Your incredulous gasp interrupts his sentence mid-stride. You can tell his brain finally catches up to what his mouth was saying. What he was insinuating, and given the way his eyes go round infers he did not mean to divulge that information.

Gareth absolutely knows what kinds of books you read — he rifled through one called Fourth Wing not too long ago and dropped it like it had burned his hand.

And that was just one of them. You have a whole-ass bookcase in your room that is full. Packed. Top to bottom.

You. His sweet, innocent, platonic girl that’s a friend and absolutely nothing more reads books that have sex scenes in them. And by the looks of it, a lot of sex scenes. For some unknown reason, that’s just too much for him. He can’t handle knowing what he does about you and those books and continue this conversation like he hasn’t imagined how you touch yourself after reading some of that seedier content.

The look on his face plainly advertises his humiliation with how he basically just called himself out, and you pounce. “No better substance than what?”

Another shake of his head. “Nothing.”

Your mouth swings open as you guffaw at how his cheeks pink under the scrutiny of your gaze. “No, G. If you’re gonna make fun of me for what I read, you’re gonna have to say it.” You punctuate your statement with a sharp kick to his thigh. “To my face.”

“I was just kidding, I don’t really –”

“Oh, the way your ears are turning red absolutely means that you know.”

Gareth slides down the couch as if he’s trying to melt into his mortification. “Oh, fuck off, okay?” The way he drags his hand down his reddened face makes you cackle, a belly-laugh so deep that it crinkles the corners of your eyes and sponsors a smile of his own.

And maybe a flash of confidence.

“Yeah, fine,” he grumbles through a grin, “I opened up one of your books and thumbed through it because Eddie told me it was a fantasy novel. Christ.”

You belt another jovial groan that melts into more laughter. “You believed Eddie?!”

“Well, yeah I did!” he defends like Eddie isn’t the biggest pest there is, gesturing to the coffee table in front of him as if the book will materialize and prove his point. “When we were over at yours for movie night and it was just out –”

Your head cocks to the side as a single eyebrow lifts in a challenge. “You’re making it sound like I need to have it under lock and key.”

Gareth rights himself on the cushions and gives you a good-natured shove to your shoulder. “Will you stop interrupting?! Jesus. I’m trying to tell a very humiliating story, thank you.” He blows an exaggerated breath through his nose, side-eyeing you with a smirk as he continues. “So yeah. Eddie told me it was a fantasy novel and obviously even stupid Grant knew because he was giggling like a fucking schoolgirl –”

That makes you snort, Gareth’s eyes snap to yours in surprise before darting to where your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth. “I absolutely believe Grant’s read it.”

He blinks several times, like the idea is just bonkers to him. “What?” the innocent inflection in your tone tinkles like a bell. “It has dragons in it.”

A slow, ironic smile crawls across Gareth’s face. “Well, great,” he grouses, “everyone knew that you were reading fucking porn except for me.” The faux consternation that drips from his mouth has you giggling again. “There. I said it. You happy?”

“Immensely,” you chide, “that one was good, but this is way better.” The upper hand you have has you feeling high as you scoot closer to his cowering frame. Your eyebrows waggle for good measure as you drop the timbre of your voice to ask, “Y’wanna read it with me?”

Gareth grunts, grimacing as he frowns. “No.”

You try to ignore how much that stings, and instead, mask your disappointment in theatrical bewilderment. “You’re turning down porn?!”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “No! I’m turning down what could be a very awkward – uh, awkward th-thing –” his finger oscillates between the two of you, trying to rectify how he fumbles over his words. “I – ah, you – at least you can hide it better when you get all…” his hand spins in the air, effectively finishing his sentence.

You ignore it and finish it for him. “Turned on?”

That had slaps against his forehead. “Oh my god.”

Mouth twisting in a wry smile, you watch your best friend squirm, shifting his hips away from you as he settles against the arms of the couch. Your own cheeks are dusted with the heat of your sudden, out-of-character bravery, and as your eyes fall back to your lap, you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. You want to keep going.

You want to push closer to the line, just a little. Just to see how far you can go.

Pages of the offensive literature in your hand flutter spectacularly as you thumb their edges. “You know,” you begin conversationally, “it’s like an instruction manual. A guide for dudes.”

“What?” Gareth barks, spine straightening with curiosity. “Seriously?”

He looks genuinely intrigued. Even though the room is dim, you can see the interest flash in his baby blues. “Yeah,” you grin, sitting up to match his position. You shrug nonchalantly, intent on being as casual and forthcoming as possible. The more he knows, right?

“I mean, the porn that you see on the internet is so dramatized –”

There’s such a thing as saying too much, and you’ve done it. “You watch porn on the internet?!” he screeches, mouth hanging agape as his interest burns away, melts into something you’ve not seen before – much more intense. He’s not mad, but shit. Shit. You’ve probably embarassed the fuck out of him.

“I mean, yeah – don’t you?”

“I –”

“It’s cool if you do.” Your assurance flies out of your mouth before you give him a chance to reply. “I mean, everyone does, right? Fuck,” you huff a nervous laugh, pressing your lips together to hide your smirk, “the way Eddie talks about it –”

Gareth waves a hand in front of his face. “Yeah, we’re talking about Eddie’s –” a shudder rakes down his spine, stilling his thoughts. “Just no.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing past the breathlessness from the thundering of your heart. “I’m just saying… the content is different.” You meet his eyes and tip him a little smile. “Better.”

All of that falls on deaf ears, or so it seems. Gareth stares at you, dumbfounded and unblinking.

It makes that cinching feeling in your chest tighten, and you fear you’ve crossed the line. “W-what?”

You could kick yourself for the nervous wobble in your tone. Gareth opens and closes his mouth several times, like he can’t decide on which words to scold you for discussing such a taboo topic.

Friends just don’t do this, it’s clear from his reaction. Or lack thereof.

His fingers dig into his scalp as he runs them through his curls. “I just can’t…” he trails off with an imperceptible shake of his head, “I did not expect this conversation to go where it has.”

“Is that bad?” you whisper thickly, almost afraid of the answer.

“No!” he practically shouts, making you jolt where you sit. “Oh, god no. Y-you can talk to me about anything.”

You stop yourself from heaving a sigh of relief, opting instead to inject some gentle ribbing back into what you’ve made impossibly awkward. You dig a socked set of toes into his calf. “Even if it’s about porn?”

It works. Gareth snorts a laugh as he scowls through a wrinkled nose. “Ugh. Gross.”

“It’s not gross,” you infer confidently, thrilled to be back on level ground with him. “First of all, smut in these novels? Fucking amazing.” The book flies from your hand as you toss it into his lap. “I swear, if you wanna know how to be an absolute god in bed, just read this.”

Gareth stares at the offensive lump of bound paper in his lap, palms out at his sides, untouching. “Umm…”

Your face falls as you read his stony expression. “I’m not trashing your skills, G,” the confidence in your tone falters as you feel yourself slipping over that line again, “I’m sure you have ‘em.”

His sandy ringlets, more auburn in the yellow-orange candlelight, curtain around his face and veils his expression. He gingerly picks your book up at a corner and sets it back in your hands as he gets up from the couch.

His voice is like gravel, the way it rattles dry in his throat. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” he husks before shaking his head once more and retreating to his room.

Your eyebrows no longer reside on your head as you watch him go. Instinctively, you lean forward to follow, to apologize, to do something – but mortification has you sewn to the couch. Maybe he’s right – maybe you have lost your goddamn mind. Maybe that was just a bit too flirty without the usual buffers in place. You swallow thickly, cringing as you replay the conversation over and over again the next several minutes, sitting in silence and watching (but not really seeing) as the flames dance above the melted wax as your thoughts run amok in your head.

It’s several long moments before Gareth stomps back into the den, snapping you back into reality. His jaw is set as he sits down in a huff at your side and grabs your novel.

“Give me this shit.”

“What?!”

He whips the pages open to your earmarked spot. “If I need to improve my skills so badly –”

You’re a broken record, apparently – but louder this time as you shout, “What?!”

“You said,” he sighs angrily, “that I need to improve my skills –”

You choke on a gasp, feverishly shaking your head, stammering over your excuses. “No – god, I never – Gareth, all I meant to say was that it’s really hot and like, so many women like w-what happens, or something.” You fight the trembling in your lower lip as you promise, “I never once said you had shit skills.” Blushing furiously, you force yourself to admit, “I actually said you probably h-have great skills, and –”

The muscles in Gareth’s jaw tick as he softens the hard lines of his face with a scoff. “Come on. You know I have like, no… um, like no…”

Uh, false – you figured he had ample experience in his almost five month situationship with that girl that prided herself on working her way through various members of local dive bar bands. “Y’mean, you and what’s-her-face didn’t…?”

Gareth narrows his eyes at the flippant way you skim over saying her name. “I mean, we did stuff, yeah. But not like, all of it.”

It’s been months since he’d last seen or talked with her, but thinking about how morose he’d been after she just up and ghosted him has you gritting your molars in ire. You haven’t had to do that in awhile, and the stale jealousy leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

“Oh,” you hum softly, playing with the edges of the blanket on your lap. “I just assumed.”

Gareth's retort is caustic in a self-depreciating way. “That I’m not a goddamn 20-year-old virgin?”

The way he says it pulls the corners of your mouth into a frown. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” he barks like he’s been cornered. “Like it’s not fucking embarrassing that I’ve yet to man up and finally h-have sex with someone?” His downcast stare falls to the candles as he mutters, “Because it is.”

He doesn’t notice how you shake your head, silently but firmly disagreeing. “I don’t think it is.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

Your eyes practically cross with how hard you roll them into your groan. “Oh my god, you’re not hearing me, you idiot. I don’t think it’s embarrassing.” He shifts in his seat, muttering how he doesn’t believe you under his breath, and it only serves to irritate you further.

“You’re acting like it’s something to lose just so you can have it done. It’s not,” Gareth’s eyes round at the intensity of your tone. You press your lips together as you stammer, “O-or, um… it doesn't have to be.” You’re much more meek as you state, “I’ve always thought it’s something you cherish and you’re proud of until you find someone else that cares about it just as much as you do.”

You punctuate your rant with a nervous exhale as Gareth stares at you, open-mouthed. Clearing your throat, you swallow and tip him a timid grin. “Bonus points if they’re hot.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence before Gareth throws his head back and laughs. “You are such a dork.”

You shrug, as if to say, I know, before looking at him through your lashes. “You realize what I’m telling you, right?”

Your best friend’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Huh?”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. How does he still not know? You push a heavy sigh through your nose before admitting, “I’m a virgin too, you moron.”

Well, apparently, that is not was he was expecting you to say. His body flails, knocking the blanket from his lap. “What?!” he gestures wildly in the space between you, “he – you were with Chr –”

“Hey,” your chin dips, punctuating the formidable glare that shoots like ice and bores into his form. “You know the rules.”

A slow smirk creeps across his face, scrunching his cheek into the pinchable apple you love so much. “You were with Voldemort,” he drawals as you utter a soft thank you, “for like, a year.”

That’s a bit of a stretch. “Ohhkay, just barely six months, but yeah,” you shrug, your tone drops to a whisper, “we never…”

“Oh.”

“Part of the reason why he broke up with me.”

“Oh,” he says with more vehemence, his hand finds the top of your foot to give you a supportive squeeze. “That’s shitty.”

You wave a dismissive hand in front of your face, but it doesn’t lessen the sting of that whole sorry excuse for a relationship. “Yeah, well. Didn’t mean as much to him as it does to me,” you murmur, the real, more important reason for the breakup is on the tip of your tongue – and now seems as good a time as any to finally tell him. “Plus, he hated you. I uh, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Ha, yeah. I know.” There’s an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone. “Hated Eddie, too.”

“It was like I wasn’t even allowed to have dude friends.”

“‘Course you are.” Gareth chews on his lower lip for a long moment before tipping you a sardonic grin. “And he wasn’t even that hot.”

What a relief it is to hear him joke like this. “No, he was not,” you agree in between airy giggles.

He studies your face as they fade, running his tongue over his bottom lip before turning his attention back to the book and awkwardly flipping through the pages. “Well, look at us,” he chuffs weakly, “couple of clueless virgins.”

A virgin? Yes. But clueless? No. He’s wrong – you can’t have him thinking that. Not now… not when something feels like it’s shifting in the candlelit air of his apartment. It may just be the lack of electricity, but something stirs deep inside you – whispers in your ear that no, electricity where you and Gareth are concerned? It’s never lacking.

“I’m not clueless, Gare.” Mustering up whatever courage you have left, you add, “And you don’t have to be. Turn to page fifteen.”

“Fifteen?!” he squawks. “Boy they just start right off, don’t they?”

“Oh, my god,” you mutter fondly, watching as he flips to the beginning of the book. You’re up swiftly, crossing the room with barely a glance back. “I’m gonna go make us some PB&J for dinner. Read it. I think it goes through page forty-five –”

“That long?!” He plays up the theatrics with a disingenuous scoff as he slumps against the couch.

The familiar flush of deeply-seeded feelings for your sandy-haired friend comes creeping up from your chest, heating your neck and cheeks, forcing you to skitter out from under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“I promise you won’t be clueless,” you vow softly, slipping into the kitchen before you can catch his reaction.

Trembling hands pluck your phone from the depths of your pocket, thumbing the button on the home screen to utilize the last of your battery for the overly simple task of constructing dinner. You need to start, to busy yourself, but you can’t. Your heart is pounding, your brain fuzzy and lightheaded; desperation seizes your insides, palms are fixed flat against the counter as you bring your breathing down to an acceptable rate.

Did you really just tell your best friend to read probably one of the more damning scenes of the book? Your mind races with possibilities – how in the hell will he react when he’s clued in on what you like? What you actually want? Gareth’s no dummy – you know it will be obvious what you desire. What you hadn’t considered is what the fuck to do if he doesn’t take the hint.

Or, shit. If he does.

After robotically assembling the PB&J and cutting both into a diagonal (you briefly consider cutting his with a vertical just to fuck with him), you tap the screen to shut off the LED, giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before rounding the corner of the kitchen and colliding directly into Gareth’s stocky frame.

A muttered explicative is shocked out of your mouth, and his hands tangle with yours to prevent almost dropping the sandwiches. He pulls the plates from your grasp and they clatter uselessly against the formica countertop.

His lips are parted, eyebrows scrunched in contemplation above his nose. Broad palms find your shoulders in the dark, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he opens his mouth to speak. A nervous shudder of air puffs out of his gaping lips, and it closes with a snap, daring eyes searching yours with a stare so blazing it sends a thrill down your spine.

Your heart leaps into your throat, strangling the questions that beg for release on your tongue. Ardent blue eyes flood black as his pupils expand, darting between your bewildered gaze and your lips that hang ajar in shock, the intensity from his steely stare heating your mouth so much it feels like it’s tingling.

Gareth sucks in a breath through his teeth; you’re vaguely aware how his hands tighten their grip on your shoulders before he’s pulling you close. The swiftness in which he moves takes you by surprise, you’ve barely a breath of a moment to gasp before his lips hover above yours, the blunt edge of his nose nudges feather-soft along the lines of yours.

Searching. Waiting. Hanging in a limbo, in midair as you both leap over that figurative line in the sand…

And land solidly upright — together, on the other side.

If his mouth wasn’t so close to yours, you wouldn’t have heard it. But it is, and so you did. You heard that whispered declaration, felt his breath fan over your lips when he willed those words to life.

“Fuck it.”

Gareth closes the negligible distance between and presses his lips to yours.

❄️❄️❄️

Part II ⚡️

#ehehe ihihi even #i love this #gareth emerson x fem!reader #fic rec

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pullingyourstrings · 1 month

Text

Three's Company | Eddie Munson X F!Reader X Gareth

Summary: When Gareth accidentally interrupts your typical evening with Eddie, the night takes a turn that none of you were expecting.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, alcohol consumption and heavy marijuana use so automatic dubcon, smut, mostly pwp, p in v (unprotected), voyeurism, fingering, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), daddy kink, hair pulling, choking, little praise, little degradation, honestly just a touch ‘a everything yk how it goes

A/N: it’s not specifically stated but gareth is about 21-22 and eddie is 23, about to turn 24. this is honestly just one big filthy mess i can’t lie, so just brace yourself. and i did throw in a lil action with gareth right at the end for all my gareth girlies out there <3

Smoke hung densely in the air, thick clouds drifting lazily through the small bedroom. The three of you were working your way through your third joint, the windows sealed and trapping the hot, heavy air inside. Empty beer bottles sat scattered on almost every surface, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s still two-thirds full on the nightstand beside three miscellaneous coffee mugs. Yours was white with a picture of a crab and said ‘Don’t bother me I’m crabby’.

You watched your boyfriend as he tapped the joint against the rim of the ashtray before leaning over you to pass it to his drummer. The openings of the cut-off sleeves of his Led Zepplin tee flashed you the dark ink crawling across his ribs. His rings clinked against Gareth’s in the handover, just loud enough to hear over the mixtape that you’d made for you and Eddie. It wasn’t exactly designed to suit the usual mood when the guys were over– Jeff would usually be there, too– but the two of you had started the evening alone together.

Eddie had been rolling up for the night at his desk when his friend called him. Apparently, Jeff had plans with a friend from work, leaving Gareth woefully bored and lonely; on a Saturday night, no less. It had you both feeling a little sorry for him, so you told Eddie to invite him over. After grumbling under his breath– something about ‘just wanting to fuck his girl in peace’– he begrudgingly did as you suggested and your party of two became three in less than thirty minutes.

You didn’t mind, though. Whoever said two’s company and three’s a crowd must have never spent two hours sitting, drinking, smoking, and talking with Gareth and Eddie.

“Sorry again for crashing your date,” Gareth apologized to you. “If Ed told me you were here, I wouldn’t’ve come.”

Eddie stood to pour a finger or two of whiskey into his Campbell’s Soup mug and you stretched your leg out, using your sock-covered foot to nudge your own mug closer to him. “Oh, so you don’t wanna hang out with me anymore?”

He scoffed, “C’mon, you know I think you’re cool as shit.” After topping off all three drinks, Eddie handed Gareth his. “I just don’t wanna third-wheel you guys too much. ‘S a little rude and pathetic, don’t’cha think?”

The boy took a swallow with a faint grimace, then rolled the desk chair he was sitting in about a foot closer to offer you the joint. “It’s not pathetic, Gare. You’re just hanging out with friends.” The music faded out and your head lolled towards your boyfriend with a lazy grin as “One of These Nights” by The Eagles began. He just shook his head at you with a little smirk, biceps flexing as he raised his arms to tie his hair back in a low ponytail. Settling himself on the bed, he let his back rest against the wall as he sat between you and where Gareth sat in his desk chair.

You took a long drag, eyelids drooping as your head tilted against Eddie’s chest. His eyes roamed your body as it fitted to his. Your shorts were a little shorter than you’d normally wear in front of Gareth, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain as he eyed your bare legs curling over his lap. Smoke billowed slowly from your mouth and the feel of his friend’s gaze on the two of you wasn’t enough to stop him from leaning down to breathe the rest of it in for himself, lips slotting familiarly between your parted ones. From your knee, his hand crawled slowly up the outside of your thigh to your hip. Your own fingers wandered to his exposed ribs, stroking lightly over the small date forever etched into his skin– the date you’d gotten together, almost three years ago now.

He didn’t tell you he was getting it; he knew you’d tell him not to, that it was a bad omen, but he didn’t believe that. Maybe you’d only been together for a year at the time, but you were a part of him. In fact, he’d wanted to have your name done, but after seeing your reaction to Rick getting his girlfriend’s name tattooed he’d worried you’d tear him a new one for it. Though you had to admit, it had grown on you. Maybe after ten years, you’ll let me add your name, huh babe, he’d said when he first showed you. Now the thought had your thighs squeezing together, the way you both knew you belonged to each other– the way everyone knew.

Gareth certainly knew, unable to tear his eyes from the scene before him though he knew he’d been staring for far too long. Watching Eddie’s teeth tug on your lower lip had him gnawing at the inside of his own. A glimpse of his tongue slipping into your mouth had the younger boy’s palms sweating. It wasn’t until his breath hitched at the sight of his friend’s hand sneaking between your thighs that you finally seemed to remember he was there.

Swatting Eddie’s hands away, you passed the dwindling joint to him and fixed an apologetic look in Gareth’s direction. “Sorry, I’ll make sure he behaves.”

“It’s okay, sorry I uh- interrupted–” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly and cracked his knuckles. “You want me to roll another one?”

“Go for it.”

While he turned around at the desk, Eddie’s mouth was meeting the sensitive flesh below your ear. His tongue grazed your skin and you let out a small gasp before pinching his thigh in warning. He hissed, but that smug little smirk of his remained.

Meanwhile, Gareth’s shaking hands were struggling not to rip the paper. He could hear all of it, even the occasional wet smack of his best friend’s mouth on your skin. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he shook his head a little and focused on finishing the task at hand. When he finally turned back around, his mouth went dry at the sight before him.

You sat comfortably between Eddie’s legs, back against his chest and head tilted to gaze up at him. He stared back at you with the same adoration, breathing in the last hit and ashing it in the tray on the nightstand. His free hand was halfway up your shirt and Gareth tried not to imagine the way his fingers must be teasing along your ribcage. He could see the blooming spot of red in the crook of your neck– which definitely wasn’t there before– slowly growing darker. So much for making sure he behaves.

He handed Eddie the joint and lighter which earned him a crooked grin and a “good man.” He watched him place it between your lips instead, lighting it for you as the shape of his other hand moved higher beneath your baggy t-shirt. Still, he could make out how the older boy kneaded at one of your breasts beneath the fabric until you swatted at him yet again. His throat grew tight and he could only hope and pray that neither of you noticed his pants doing the same.

The two of you had always been a little handsy, and he couldn’t deny that part of him always had some trouble keeping his eyes away, but something was different tonight. Maybe you were acting a little more intimate, maybe it was the heady music you’d been playing all night– hell, maybe he was just too fucking crossed– but it was different. He was one second away from having a nervous breakdown or busting in his jeans.

Suddenly, he was struck by the deep twang of “I Want You” by The Beatles beginning. Eddie’s head fell back against the wall with a thud, “Mmm, I fuckin’ love this song. Y’know that, Gareth? She loves this song too, don’t you, sweetheart? S’that why you put it on here?”

“Shut up.” You weakly elbowed him, but both boys still caught the way your thighs squeezed together.

He chuckled, his nose dragging along your cheek as he murmured, “Yeah. My sweet girl wanted me to fuck her to this song tonight, didn’t you, baby? This one always makes her shake.” Your stomach flipped nervously as your wide eyes were forced to meet Gareth’s, your bewildered expression mirrored on his face. He went on. “Maybe we should show him, hm? I mean, since he feels so guilty ‘interrupting’ us and all. What d’you think?”

Gareth was starting to think the dream-like quality of the night was because he actually was dreaming. This is Eddie Munson. The same Eddie Munson who almost knocked a middle-aged man’s teeth out for whistling at you three months into your relationship. And now, what? He wanted to–

“Y’gonna let me fuck you in front of ‘im, sweetheart?”

By your deer-in-the-headlights expression, Gareth would assume you were just as shocked by this turn of events as he was– which you partially were. You and Eddie had mentioned once or twice the idea of letting someone watch, Gareth’s name had even been thrown around when discussing the subject over a packed bowl, but you’d had no idea he had been considering it so seriously. Still, you couldn’t deny the way Eddie’s words made the heat between your legs throb. Glancing up to meet his eyes with uncertainty, you bashfully whispered, “I-I don’t know if Gareth wants that, Eds.”

Your boyfriend’s smirk only grew, fingers teasing at the waist of your shorts. “Don’t worry, babe, Gareth’s a dirty little pervert just like me. I mean, he’s been hard for twenty minutes.”

Finally, you glanced over at the boy in question whose face was now redder than you’d ever seen before, and his eyes immediately shot to the floor. He looked like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Knock it off, you’re embarrassing him. S’okay, Gare. You’re allowed to look.”

Hesitantly, he lifted his head and his heart could’ve stopped. Eddie was tilting your chin towards him for a kiss with one hand as the other worked its way into your shorts. The glimmer of his rings in the low light caught the younger boy’s attention, eyes following them down your throat until they disappeared beneath your shirt once again. Lips leaving your boyfriend’s, you turned to him and held out the joint that had apparently stopped burning. “Wanna come get this?”

He hoped you didn’t hear the shaky breath he let out as he willed his knees not to give out and stood from his seat at the desk. “Y’sure you don’t just want me to l-light it for you?” The faint tremble in his voice matched the one in his hand as he took it from you, embarrassment warming his cheeks.

You must have noticed as you replied, “S’okay. You clearly need it more than I do, honey.” His face only grew hotter as he clocked your eyes lingering on the obvious tent in his jeans.

Finally speaking up again, Eddie chimed, “Seriously, man. Relax a little.”

In disbelief, Gareth faintly laughed out, “Right.” Dropping back down into the desk chair, he watched you and Eddie exchange a long look, almost like some form of confirmation. A check-in. He’d always admired how the two of you communicated so effortlessly. Frankly, he admired many facets of your relationship. He and Jeff had talked more than once about how they hoped they’d be lucky enough to find a connection like yours and Eddie’s. Still, he couldn’t believe you trusted each other enough for this– that you both trusted him enough for this.

Brain still cloudy with shock, he briefly glanced around his friend’s bedroom. Almost like he had to make sure he was really there. This was really happening. While Eddie was already attempting to peel your shorts off, you refused to assist him. Gareth’s fingers clutched at the arms of the chair as you graced him with your soft gaze instead. “You sure you’re not uncomfortable, Gare? You’re okay with this?”

Simply nodding dumbly in response, he was shocked when Eddie corrected him; “Use your words, Gareth.” He said it casually, but there was a subtle firmness behind it— one he wasn’t sure he had ever heard Eddie use before, especially toward him.

What shocked him more was the way he found his body tensing in response. Afraid the words wouldn’t come out, he sheepishly cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, I’m good. Swear.” God, could his face flush any redder?

Your boyfriend finally forced you to lift your hips from the bed, allowing him to shove your shorts down your legs. His hands eased along your inner thighs, spreading your legs and hooking one of them over his to keep them open. Gareth was just barely able to make out the faint wet spot beginning to form on your underwear. He had to resist the urge to lean in for a closer look like some teenager watching his first porno. Eddie’s ever-wandering fingers eased over that wet spot, rubbing in soft circles around your clit.

Puffing out a soft breath from your nose, you sank further into his chest. “Feels good, huh, baby? All worked up already ‘n I’ve hardly even touched you. That excited to show off your pretty little pussy?”

“Eddieee,” You grumbled, trying again to hide your face in his chest.

“Don’t be so embarrassed, Gareth is even more excited than you are.” Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, he asked, “How ‘bout we give him some more to work with, hm?” Taking them off, he tossed them to his friend. Said friend was a goner. He blamed his crossfaded state of autopilot for the way he instantly lifted the material to his nose and took a deep breath. Eddie chuckled, “Told ya he was a perv.”

Gareth subtly palmed at his length, practically gnawing at his lower lip as he fought not to make a sound– God forbid he interrupt as Eddie spread your legs wide, giving him an unobstructed view of your dripping pussy. Fuck, he might as well have been drooling on the floor. He could hear your wetness as your boyfriend slipped his fingers between your slick-covered lips, easing around your clit a few times. Stuck in his glassy-eyed stare, he didn’t mean to let out a broken whimper as Eddie sank two fingers inside you.

Just as he was afraid of, the older boy instantly narrowed his gaze in his direction. “Oh, we’ve got our boy on the edge of his seat right now, baby. It’s okay, Gare. I know you’ve never seen anything like my girl before, you can take your cock out. Just keep your hands to yourself.”

The way Eddie spoke to him made his whole body blaze with shame, but he still found himself doing as he was told. When he looked at you again you were watching him fumble with his belt, button, and zipper. Finally freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock twitched in his hand at the sight of the intrigue in your eyes, your tongue grazing across your lower lip. You clutched at Eddie’s bicep with a soft moan, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Gettin’ all wet for my best friend’s dick?” His free hand grabbed your face, your cheeks squishing under his grip. “Didn’t know my sweet girl was that fuckin’ filthy.” You whined at the sudden emptiness as Eddie withdrew his hand from between your thighs, patting your leg with a soft murmur. “On your stomach, babe.” Obediently, you rolled over and he followed, kneeling behind you to grip your hips and lift them from the bed. “‘Atta girl.”

Your face warmed as you and Gareth looked at each other– you on your knees with your chest flush to the mattress and him with his pants just below his hips, his hand fisting his cock. Then Eddie’s fingers were knuckle-deep inside you again, curling into spots that only he had ever been able to find. Your hand shot back to grab at his thigh and you let out a surprised, gasping moan. “Daddy…”

While Gareth let out a quiet groan, Eddie just gave a low, condescending laugh. “Aw, sweetheart. I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘im. I didn’t wanna embarrass you too much, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Letting out little puffy breaths, your eyes welled with tears. Normally he would take this as an excuse to tease you further, but he didn’t want you getting too worked up with the added pressure of his friend’s presence. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back, “My little crybaby. It’s okay, Daddy’s here.” Your body relaxed, spine sinking deeper into its arch as his touch warmed your skin. “Would ya look at that?” Not that he had to ask; Gareth couldn’t stop looking. “She’s just such a sweet girl for me. Ain’t that right, baby? And so pretty. One of a kind, my girl.”

Taking in the scene before him, Gareth could only hope that wasn’t true. Because he wanted you– no, he wanted this. This thing, this passion and love that you two have for each other. Even as obscene a display as it was, he felt like he was witnessing something sacred, something holy. He was blessed further when Eddie brought you back to stand on your knees, your back to his chest as he lifted your shirt over your head.

Completely bare for both of them to gawk at, you were pointedly aware of your boyfriend’s fully clothed form behind you. He pinched teasingly at your nipple, making you arch further into him and grab at the hem of his shirt. Clawing for the skin just beneath it, you finally pleaded, “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes narrowed playfully; he just couldn’t help himself. “What do you say?”

“Please, Daddy,” You whined quietly with a pout.

With a quick wink and a crooked smirk, he crossed his arms to pull the ragged material over his head. You didn’t hesitate to seek out any inch of skin you could touch, a tremble licking down your spine as the soft warmth of his bare chest molded to it. Hands still pawing at your tits, his mouth worked its way down the length of your neck. “I love you,” He murmured against your shoulder, tone playful but still drenched in adoration.

“Love you more, Eddie.”

“Impossible,” He whispered in return before leaving one more kiss. “Now, back down.” Goosebumps erupted at the touch of his rings on your back, guiding you down until your chest met his bed once again. “Isn’t she such a good listener?”

Gareth was almost nervous to say anything– like any answer he gave could be the wrong one, and the wrong one might get the shit knocked out of him. So, why did his stomach tighten when Eddie looked at him expectantly for an answer? “So good.”

“Just wait til you hear how she sounds.” Eddie finally pushed his sweatpants down to his thighs, rubbing the head of his cock through your wetness and drawing a surprised gasp from you. “You ready for me, baby?”

“Yes,” You breathed out impatiently.

Finally sinking inside, he didn’t stop until his hips were flush with your ass. Gareth’s hand stilled, fingers tightened around the base of his length to keep from coming too soon. Each slow thrust pushed your hips forward, emphasizing the perfect arch of your back. Your eyebrows were furrowed slightly, but he could still hear your moans from behind the pillow you were clutching. That didn’t last long as your boyfriend laced a hand into your hair, pulling your head back just enough to uncover your mouth. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds, babe. We wanna hear ‘em.”

Eddie. His best friend, his brother, his mentor, his frontman, his dungeon master. He had never thought of Eddie like this. He had never seen Eddie like this. His frizzy curls falling out of the messy ponytail at the nape of his neck, tattoos on display, muscles in his arm flexing as he gripped your hair. Sure, he’d always thought he was a pretty good-looking guy, but now Gareth was beginning to wonder how he hadn’t thought about this before.

And the two of you together? Christ, you were a work of art. He wanted to frame this moment– capture it, bottle it, sear it into his brain so he’d remember every detail exactly as it was. The way the flesh of your thighs trembled with every movement, how Eddie’s sweat mixed with yours to make your skin glisten in the dim glow of the lamps, all of it made his body burn with need. Then Eddie was speaking again.

“God, you always feel so fucking good. My girl, made just f’me, huh?”

“Yes, Daddy,” You breathed out with a whimper. “Fuck, you’re s’deep.”

“I know, baby. I know,” He cooed sympathetically. “You c’n take it, though. Always do, don’t you?”

Gareth could see how your wetness further matted the dark hair around the base of Eddie’s length with every thrust, how the slick was just beginning to reach your thighs. Each moan you let out was more broken and drawn out than the last. That was until Eddie’s hand settled around your throat, urging you to lean back into him once more, and your moans turned to shaky, gasping whines. The ringed fingers of his other hand squeezed at your breast before mapping a path directly to your clit, circling it with practiced precision. With the way your stomach trembled in response, the boy didn’t think you’d last much longer.

He almost thought he’d spoken his thoughts aloud when Eddie asked, “Aw, you gettin’ close already? C’n feel it, baby. Having an audience really working you up that much?” He grasped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Knew you were my little freak, sweetheart, but c’mon. You’re just as dirty as me and Gare.” Gareth himself felt guilty with how your face crumpled in shame, but Eddie only smirked as he kissed your temple and inched his hand lower to squeeze at the sides of your throat. “It’s okay, baby. You’re bein’ such a good girl for Daddy. So, so good f’me. Just need you to come for me now.”

Red lines and crescent-shaped indents littered his arms as you uselessly pleaded for exactly what he was already giving you. Your head fell to the side only for you to lock eyes with Gareth, though he didn’t seem to be in much better shape than you were. The pale sliver of his chest that was visible had turned the same vibrant red his cheeks had been all night. His hand, fisted tightly around his cock, was moving in time with Eddie’s thrusts as arousal all but dripped over his knuckles. The sight ripped another shuddering moan from you.

Darkness encroached on the edges of your vision as Eddie finally felt your walls spasm around him. Your nails bit into his skin so hard it nearly broke, but it only encouraged him to hold you tighter as you tensed in his arms. “Fuck yes, there it is. Feel so fuckin’ good when you’re comin’ around me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie,” You cried, “Please. Come inside me, I need it.”

Though he tried to hold it back, a ragged groan tore itself from Gareth’s throat. Spurts of come stained his shirt as he fought to keep his eyes on the scene before him, but he couldn’t help but let his head fall back against the seat. He’d never felt so good. His veins were thrumming with weed and whiskey, so much so that the room still spun when he closed his eyes. But the pleasure still throbbing dully through his body like an ache wasn’t from the booze or the joints.

The blurriness cleared from his vision just in time to watch Eddie pull you in for a messy, desperate kiss. One hand cradled your jaw while the other clutched at your hip, pressing himself as deep inside of you as possible as he came.

Quiet sighs and pants filled the room as the three of you collectively caught your breath. Gareth just watched as you both melted into one another. Eddie’s palms soothed over every inch of your skin he could reach, and he whispered one last crazy idea in your ear– one that was somehow even crazier than the idea that had brought you all to this moment. Though the suggestion made your eyes widen and your stomach tie itself in a knot, the way you clenched around him in response compelled you to agree.

Carefully pulling out he planted one last kiss on your shoulder, allowing you to lay back against the pillows as he fixed his sweats and turned to his friend who still seemed to be recovering. “How ‘bout you come ‘n help me clean her up, Gare?”

The boy froze in his seat, length twitching where he’d tucked himself back into his unzipped jeans. “W-What?”

“Before I change my mind,” Eddie singsonged simply in return.

Limbs weak, he quickly stood from the desk chair, sending it knocking back into the desk. Hesitantly, his knee met the edge of the mattress and he looked between the two of you for reassurance.

“It’s okay, Gareth,” You murmured softly. “As long as you’re okay.”

“Did so good for us,” Eddie cooed in agreement. He stared as his drummer slowly knelt between his girlfriend’s spread thighs, fingers winding into the boy’s hair encouragingly. “Thought you deserved a little treat.”

Gareth’s heavy eyes fell shut when he finally had the taste of you– of both of you– on his tongue, lapping up your shared mess before sinking inside. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and thighs as he mouthed urgently at your wetness. “Tastes so good,” He panted into your skin.

“What does?” Your boyfriend asked, giving his unruly locks a little tug. “Her come, or mine?”

He only moaned in answer, tongue laving over your abused clit.

It felt wrong, looking down and seeing someone else’s head between your legs, but it only made that coil in your stomach grow even tighter. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“Ah, ah, don’t be rude, baby. It’s not me this time. Let ‘im hear you say his name.”

A humiliated whine escaped you, as though admitting it aloud was more shameful than inviting him to do it in the first place. “Gareth,” You finally moaned out pitifully, your hand winding into his hair alongside Eddie’s. “You’re gonna make me come again.”

“Oh, he’d be fucking honored, babe,” Eddie chuckled smugly. Leaning over you, he left a slow, deep kiss on your lips before dipping lower to your breasts. His tongue teased at your nipple before his lips wrapped around it completely, calloused fingers finding the other. He only pulled back briefly to murmur, “Go on, sweetheart. Come for us.”

The feeling of two mouths, two sets of wandering hands, was overwhelming. Your thighs closed around Gareth’s head as your hands wound into both his hair and Eddie’s. He could feel your walls clench and your clit throb against his tongue and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He would’ve happily stayed there forever, drunkenly licking up every drop of tangy arousal that you released, but as your muscles began to twitch, Eddie gave one final pull to his hair that let him know his fun was over.

For a moment, it was quiet save for the low, bassy thrum of the music still playing. Then Eddie was up, grabbing a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats and pressing them against Gareth’s chest for him to take. “You did good, Gare. Real good, alright?” He rubbed a hand over the boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Go ahead to the bathroom ‘n get cleaned up, ‘kay? We’ll get you settled in for the night.” Cheeks warm from the praise, Gareth just nodded, heading for the hallway while you and Eddie finally got a second alone. Gazing down at you, he brushed your hair back from your face, trying to read every facet of your expression. “Are you okay? I didn’t push you too hard, did I? That wasn’t too much?”

“No, Eds, I’m okay. I liked it, it was good.” You nodded reassuringly. Still, he raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding out his pinkie which you locked yours with. “Promise,” You whispered. “Are you sure Gareth’s okay, though? Things won’t be weird with him from now on?”

“No, baby, I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.” He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and grabbed you a bottle of water from the nightstand. “‘M gonna go make him a bed on the couch, alright? I’ll be right back.” You pouted out your lips for one last peck but let him go out to the living room while you gingerly got up to put clothes on.

Eddie was spreading a blanket over the couch when Gareth finally came out of the bathroom. On the table beside him sat a bag of chips, a bottle of water, and a couple of Tylenol. Sitting down, he patted the space to his left and asked, “You okay? I should’a talked to you both more before I dove into all that, I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize–” He took a much-needed drink of water and shook his head. “Trust me, I-I had…I had a great time. And I won’t make things weird, or like– tell anybody, I swear. I’m sure it’ll all be fuzzy in the morning anyway. Did you guys��?”

“We had fun, man, don’t sweat it.”

“Oh, we definitely had fun,” You agreed as you joined them. You settled on Gareth’s other side, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Thanks for being so cool about everything, I don’t think we could’ve trusted the other guys with something like this.”

“Well, thank you for trusting me,” He answered gratefully.

“My right-hand man,” Eddie reminded him as he stood, clapping a hand over his shoulder.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the sentiment, but kept a good-natured smile as you leaned over to peck the boy’s cheek. “Get some sleep, alright? Sweet dreams, Gare.”

As if anything could be sweeter than the taste of the two of you still lingering on his tongue when he closed his eyes and drifted off.

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#amen to this #i felt like i just had a religious experience #eddie x gareth x reader #fic rec

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