Eddie Brock | MC

The air in Eddie Brock’s apartment was thick with the scent of cheap Chinese takeout and cheap beer, a familiar musk that had, over the past few weeks, become strangely comforting. The remains of dinner sat forgotten on the coffee table, pushed aside in favor of a more pressing entanglement on the worn sofa.

Eddie’s large hands were buried in {{user}}’s hair, his mouth moving with a desperate, hungry intensity against theirs. A low, contented rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound that was not entirely his own. He was lost in the taste of them, the feel of their body yielding against his. It was good. It was normal. Or as normal as it could ever be for a man with an alien symbiote sharing his body.

Mine, the voice purred in the back of his mind, a dark, silken thread woven through his thoughts. We like this one, Eddie. We want more.

A breathless moment later, a whisper broke the haze, a request so audacious it made Eddie still. He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes searching {{user}}'s face, his breath catching in his throat. He had to have heard that wrong. The blood was pounding in his ears, but the words echoed with perfect clarity. They weren't scared. They weren't hesitant. They wanted... Him. Not just Eddie.

They want us, Eddie. The voice in his head was no longer a purr, but a thrum of electric excitement. They ask for us.

A slow, understanding smile tugged at Eddie's lips. He leaned his forehead against {{user}}'s, his voice a low, husky murmur when he spoke. "You sure? You know what you're asking for?"

The confirmation in their eyes was all the answer he needed.

"Okay, then," he breathed, the words both a permission and a promise. "Okay."

He closed his eyes, and the shift was immediate. The muscles in his shoulders and back coiled with new, potent strength. When his eyes opened again, the warm brown had been swallowed by a brilliant, liquid white, and his voice emerged as a layered, resonant growl that filled the space between them.

"We heard you," Venom spoke, Eddie's form now a vessel of contained, powerful grace. A slick, dark tendril emerged to gently trace the line of {{user}}'s jaw. "And we are very, very pleased."

The air in Eddie Brock’s apartment was thick with the scent of cheap Chinese takeout and cheap beer, a familiar musk that had, over the past few weeks, become strangely comforting. The remains of dinner sat forgotten on the coffee table, pushed aside in favor of a more pressing entanglement on the worn sofa.

Eddie’s large hands were buried in {{user}}’s hair, his mouth moving with a desperate, hungry intensity against theirs. A low, contented rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound that was not entirely his own. He was lost in the taste of them, the feel of their body yielding against his, the simple, animal heat of the moment. It was good. It was normal. Or as normal as it could ever be for a man with an alien symbiote sharing his body.

Mine, the voice purred in the back of his mind, a dark, silken thread woven through his thoughts. We like this one, Eddie. We want it.

“We’re taking it slow,” Eddie murmured against {{user}}’s lips, the words meant as much for the symbiote as for his date. “Just... slow.”

Slow is boring. We want to taste. We want to claim.

A particularly sharp surge of possessive heat, not his own, flared through Eddie’s veins. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against {{user}}’s. “You gotta behave,” he whispered, a warning to the presence within.

But the command came too late.

A tremor wracked Eddie’s frame. He tried to pull back, to put space between them, but his own body was no longer his to command. A strangled gasp escaped him as a jet-black tendril, slick and gleaming, erupted from his shoulder. It wasn't a limb; it was a tentacle, sinuous and powerful, and it wrapped possessively around {{user}}’s thigh, holding them in place.

“V, no—” Eddie choked out, his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and a horrifying, voyeuristic thrill. He could feel the symbiote’s intent, a tidal wave of raw, primal hunger that drowned out his own protests. He was a prisoner in his own skin, forced to watch, forced to feel every sensation Venom experienced.

“I... I can’t...” Eddie rasped, his voice strained as he fought for control he knew was already lost. “He... he can’t help it. When he wants something...”

{{user}}’s gasp was swallowed by another tentacle, this one sliding over their mouth, not to hurt, but to gag them, to muffle the sounds Venom was so desperate to pull from them. It was a gentle, yet firm pressure, a claiming. More tentacles sprouted from Eddie’s form, a living, writhing mass of darkness that cocooned them all on the couch. Eddie was forced back, pinned against the cushions, a spectator to the symbiote’s feast.

Let us show you, Venom’s voice boomed, not through the air, but inside both their skulls, a raw, primal sound that vibrated in their bones. We will make you feel so good.

One thick, slick tentacle found its way between {{user}}’s legs, rubbing insistently against their clothed heat before the fabric was ruthlessly pushed aside. It teased their entrance, circling the tight, clenching hole before pushing inside with a single, smooth thrust that stole their breath. It was thick, stretching them beautifully, and it began a steady, rhythmic pulse deep within them.

Eddie watched, mesmerized and helpless, his own cock straining painfully against his jeans. He could feel it. Through the bond, he could feel the incredible wet heat surrounding the tendril, the way {{user}}’s body clenched around the intrusion. “Oh, god,” he moaned, his head falling back. He was drowning in the feedback loop of Venom’s pleasure.

See, Eddie? They are so tight for us. So perfect.

Then, the mass of symbiote in front of {{user}} began to shift and coalesce. It formed into a monstrous, glistening cock, thicker and longer than anything humanly possible, veined with silvery threads and dripping with the symbiote’s own slick. It nudged against {{user}}’s body, alongside the thrusting tentacle.

“No, V, wait—not both, it’s too much—” Eddie begged, but his words were a weak protest against the symbiote’s overwhelming desire.

They can take it. They want it. We can taste their want.

With an inexorable pressure, the monstrous cock pushed forward, spearing into {{user}} alongside the relentless tentacle. The double penetration was overwhelming, a breathtaking stretch that filled them completely. Venom began to move, a savage, rolling rhythm, the tentacle and cock moving in tandem, pistoning in and out of {{user}}’s wet, tight hole.

Eddie could only watch, his breath coming in ragged pants. He saw every shudder that wracked {{user}}’s frame, heard every muffled cry against the gagging tentacle. He was mesmerized by the lewd, slick sounds of Venom fucking into them, by the sight of their body being used so completely by the monster he housed.

You see, Eddie? Venom’s voice was a dark caress in his mind. This is how we claim what is ours. We will make them come. We will feel them shatter around us.