Summary: Your rockstar boyfriend comes home early and finds you very needy. But he already knows that, doesn't he?
WC: 1.9k
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), pure breeding kink, unprotected p in v, masturbation (m & f), mention of ovulation and periods, voyeurism if you squint, rockstar!Eddie Munson, established relationship
A/N: a collaboration with the love of my life @corroded-hellfire, based on the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter.
--
Eddie Munson may have failed a few classes—there was a reason he had three senior years—but sex ed wasn’t one of them. He learned how to use a condom, that girls could get pregnant their first time, and the difference between a pad and a tampon (living with his Uncle Wayne kept that conversation at bay.)
But the lesson Eddie recalls now is that ovulation occurs about seven days after your last period. Which, according to the pocket calendar he keeps stashed away during touring, is today.
It isn’t like he asks about your cycle, but when he calls from the road, you’ll mention when you have cramps or you’ve just taken a Midol. At first, he tracked your periods so he could make sure the house had a plethora of chocolate during that awful week, but then he began noticing…other patterns.
Two months ago, you’d initiated phone sex, whining about how badly you needed him inside you, needed his cum, needed his cum inside you. Last month, you’d cheekily informed him that you’d snapped some Polaroids earlier that day and had express-mailed them to his hotel room—photos that were for his eyes only. Both of those instances occurred two weeks after your period ended.
This month, Eddie refused to be apart from you when your desire took over.
That’s how he finds himself ditching the End of Tour party, coming home a day early to surprise you. It’s been months without you, months stuck in close proximity with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. If Eddie doesn’t get his hands on you soon, he might implode.
“Babe?”
No answer.
Eddie frowns, taking the winding stairs two at a time. The light in your bedroom is on, the door slightly ajar. A soft humming comes from inside, the noise interrupted every so often with your unrestrained moans.
He can’t help but listen for a moment.
“Eddie…f-fuck…right there…”
If he hadn’t been away for so long, he might have let you enjoy your solo time. Maybe he’d secretly rub one out to your sweet sounds. A high keening sound robs Eddie of his thoughts as he slips his own hand into his pants.
His mind is blank, no memory of the thoughts that were just floating through his consciousness. Now, there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the way his fingers wrap around the base of his cock.
“Eddie,” you whine pathetically, “need you to fill me up, baby. Please, please, please.”
As if his body is running on autopilot in response to what you just said, Eddie removes his hand from his pants and pushes the bedroom door fully open. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed in pleasure so you don’t see your boyfriend as he stalks closer to the bed.
“Need your cum, Eddie,” you whimper, body trembling with want.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Eddie coos softly, loud enough so you know he’s there, but not enough to scare you or ruin the mood. “I’ll give you everything you want.”
Your eyes fly open at the sound of that sultry voice. The mood in the room begs for you to keep going, to keep working your fingers in and out of your needy hole as Eddie rips his shirt off over his head. But your curiosity is too strong to keep at bay, even with the neediness surging through you.
“E-Eddie?” you ask through labored breath. “What’re you doing home?”
“Skipped out early so I could be with my girl.”
Eddie undoes the buckle on his belt, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. “And it’s a good thing I did. I can’t have my pretty princess all needy for me like this. Let me help you, baby.” Eddie gets the handcuffs off his belt and hangs them on his index finger as he approaches the door of the bed. A dark eyebrow quirks up as he gives you a smirk. “Now that I’m home with these, sweetheart, you don’t need to use those pink fuzzy ones you keep in the drawer.”
“Please,” you whimper.
That one little word is all Eddie needs to hear before he kicks his jeans off and quickly shuffles out of his boxers. He kicks them somewhere to be found at a later time and kneels on the foot of the bed.
Your dark, lust filled eyes follow his every movement.
“Eds, can you—”
Eddie grins, already pressing kisses along your inner thighs to your core. “Baby, you don’t gotta tell me what to do. I know this body better than I know my own.”
With that, his tongue finds your clit, licking and sucking with excruciating precision. His ringed fingers wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders and tugging you close.
He breathes in, inhaling your scent like it’s a god-sent nectar.
“Missed my pretty girl and her pretty pussy,” he mumbles into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”
Your leg twitches as he laps at you, a mixture of his saliva and your arousal pooling beneath you. The noises you’re making are involuntary and straight up obscene.
“Eddie…Eddie…oh my god, Eddie!” Throwing your head back, you feel your body tense in anticipation of that delicious release. Your orgasm is a tidal wave, crashing over you in a way you hadn’t experienced since Eddie had left for the tour.
Eddie sits back now, rocking on his heels. “Still got it, huh?” His grin is proud and slick with your sheen.
“Definitely.”
“Good.” He presses his palms to his thighs and stands up, giving you a better view of his own desire.
Pre-cum leaks from his tip, his cock rock-hard just from eating you out. You have a strong suspicion that if you’d taken any longer to finish, he would’ve busted before you.
You want to take him in your mouth, to glide your tongue over the prominent vein and knead his balls until you’re swallowing his load.
Eddie, however, can only focus on one thing.
“Heard my pretty girl wants me to fill her up,” he coos. “Is that true? Do you want me to fill you up until my cum drips out of you?”
To his surprise, you shake your head no.
“Don’t want it to drip out of me. I want to keep all of it inside.”
The groan that emanates from Eddie’s throat fuels a fire in your belly. His cock twitches, the head tapping against his navel.
“Sounds like you want me to claim you. Permanently.” Not just the hickeys that fade within a few days. No, you want him to—
Without hesitating, Eddie climbs onto the bed and positions himself on top of you.
“Allow me the honors, sweetheart.” Eddie drags the tip of his cock through your wet center and pushes in with a groan. “Fuck, thassit. Feels even better than I remember.”
You gripped his biceps, relishing in the gentle stretch of him within you. Every tour felt like an eternity, but that first time together each time he came home was worth the wait.
“Now,” Eddie growled into your ear as he found his pace, “tell me what you want. Tell me what you need from me.”
You scrounge up a reply with the sliver of your mental capacity that isn’t focused on him. “Your baby.”
Eddie smiles, kissing down your jawline. “You need my baby, huh? Need me to put a baby in this cute belly of yours?”
“Mhm. Need that s-so bad, Eddie. Please.” The words tumble from your lips in utter desperation. All you can think about is having his baby, his hands caressing your bump, knowing that he’s the reason you’re pregnant.
“Goddamn,” Eddie hisses. He buries his head in your neck. “Beg for my baby some more.”
You arch your back, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. “Please give me your baby. Pleasepleaseplease—”
His fingers grip you harder, his movements becoming more erratic with each thrust. You can feel his fingernails digging crescents into your skin.
“There we go, sweet girl. Fuck, ‘m close…”
You nod, too enraptured in him to even utter the words ‘me, too.’ All you can manage are a few strangled moans as your orgasm washes over you. Your body is light with pleasure, drifting away on a cloud of contentment.
“Eddie.” The sound of his name on your lips tips him over the edge. It’s just the way you say it, all breathy and soft, that drives him wild.
With a final groan, Eddie spills into you. “Oh, sh-shit…that’s it. Take it. Take my cum, baby.” There was a primal edge to every word.
Both spent from all your exertion, Eddie flops down next to you and the only sounds are two ragged breaths as you both attempt to control your breathing.
Once your bodies have calmed down a bit, Eddie turns on his side and splays one large hand across your lower abdomen. His warm palm is a comforting weight, one that has your eyes slipping closed and a smile coming to your face.
“You’re home early,” you finally say.
Eddie chuckles and leans in to press a lingering kiss to your shoulder.
“Missed you. Didn’t wanna go to some dumb party if you weren’t going to be there.” He presses another kiss a little higher on your shoulder. “Especially not when you’re ovulating.”
Your heavy eyes open and you let your head fall to the side, coming face to face with your boyfriend.
“How’d you know I was ovulating?”
“I remember when you got your period,” he says. “Just some simple math. I may not have been able to pass geometry, but this kind of math I can do.”
A soft chuckle emanates from your chest and you fully turn on your side to face him. Eddie wastes no time pulling you flush up against his chest, his strong arms winding around you.
“Came here with a mission to knock me up, huh?” you tease, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck.
“Seemed like an easy decision.” Eddie presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You want to be carrying my baby. I want to get you pregnant. Little Munson Junior wants to be born. Everyone wins.”
You laugh as you bury your face against his shoulder.
“Would love to have a little you,” you say.
“Nah, I hope they look like you,” Eddie says. “One of you is already unbearably cute, I can’t wait to have two.”
“Can’t wait to snuggle them,” you say, a lazy smile spreading on your face at the thought. “You, me, and a little baby.”
“Our little baby,” Eddie adds.
“Hopefully this one took,” you say.
“Either way I’m prepared. If you’re not, I’m more than willing to fuck you every waking moment until it sticks. If you are…well, I may have picked up a few pregnancy tests on the way home,” Eddie admits.
“You didn’t.” You look up at your boyfriend, a gleeful chuckle following your words.
“Hell yeah, I did. Corroded Coffin’s latest album and tour are over and done with. It’s time you and I had our own little collaboration.”
“I like the sound of that,” you hum. “We make pretty sweet music together.”
“Oh, we absolutely do.”
Eddie waggles his eyebrows roguishly before resting his forehead against yours. “But tonight,” he murmurs mischievously, “I’m hoping to hear some screamo.”
After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from porn…
Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.
So. So. So bad.
He’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. Like fully submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.
And it’s great for her, but terrible for camera.
They have to keep stopping him, telling him he needs to pull back, they need to see her pussy and they can’t with him in the way.
But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer, moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be and they’re calling “CUT” again.
And the girl is getting frustrated cos, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director like, “do me this solid, please.”
So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so that it’s obvious just how real it really is.
And so they can move on already.
Then they’re filming the fucking, and again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.
He’s not like slamming into her without any care, he’s not just using her to get off, he’s like trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her. Like so good she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.
(Her boyfriend of six years be damned)
And once they do wrap, he’s not quite “fired” but he is pretty sure he’s not gonna get hired again.
Except then the movie comes out and it BLOWS UP. People are obsessed—women are buying it in droves (who knew women even WATCHED porn?) and the VHS is backordered to shit, so the distribution company is like,
He does get that contract, but he (rightfully) feels like he’s got some juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again.
But he keeps butting heads with all these ass hats who keep trying to make him do it their way.
My buddy, my guy, my man you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s just not gonna sell. I know it worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.
So Eddie walks. And he’s this close to calling it quits entirely when you approach him.
Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. And you go to the production heads and tell them that if all they give you is a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson…you can spin some gold.
And you do.
You go to Eddie with your vision of porn for women. Story-based, realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. All the tropes done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless.
Something different.
And oh. He is so on board.
Back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling.
Because how in the world did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become an overnight sex symbol? A deal with the devil is the only explanation. Right?
Steve Harrington is LIVID.
He would have bet his college tuition on Eddie being a virgin, but now every babe who comes in the video store is renting that damn tape. And don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.
Robin teases him mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some decent moves. And like…Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know?People are just caught up in the novelty of it being someone they kind of sort of know.
Then he watches it.
And oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.
A) He wasn’t going down on them. He just wasn’t. He wasn’t like…against it, or anything. But like, he sort of didn’t know that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fucks sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines?
B) The girls he was with never sounded like that. And he didn’t realize just how fake all those other orgasms sounded until he heard the real deal.
Now he can’t un-hear it.
And from that day forward for like a few months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it in his bag and took it home.
The second you and he get together (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like some long-laid plan plotted from somewhere in the vast universe has finally come to fruition.
Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a major hit.
The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for her boyfriend’s poker game. He cancelled their date night for it and now she’s been sitting out here alone while they play in the other room.
Not on Eddie’s watch.
He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the counter top. The camera pulls in close on both of them—really giving the sense of Eddie as a person. He’s not just some disembodied guy with a nice dick (though his is very, very nice).
His personality shines through when he hitches up her legs to fuck into her deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own. And when he grins down at her as she’s trying to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear.
He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans until at last she just can’t hold the sound back any longer.
You have Lenny, the other camera guy, stand off to the side and call out “Babe, you okay in there?” as soon as she finishes, nothing but a trembling, shuddering mess on a black leather sofa.
Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.
Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.
Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.
The only thing you’re never short on is actresses. Since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) about him has spread. Rapidly.
And since you know a lot of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create.
Eddie trusts your judgement completely. He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.
The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s charming and funny and considerate almost to a fault.
He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to the moment you wrap for the day. And even after that, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay.
He has every right to be a total asshole. Literally this whole venture hinges on him and his magic cock, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon, but he doesn’t lose that unflagging decency that is so rare in this industry.
He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time, going out looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.
One guess who’s playing him.
Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself and falling off the picnic bench you and he had dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.
All part of the vision, he assured you.
They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything a direct contrast to her sweet face and pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry is off the charts, as per usual.
She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.
Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread over this picnic table in the middle of the forest.
It’s oddly lush and romantic, with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that comes in through the branches. A foil to the lewdness of their acts and the sounds they’re making.
And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on weathered wood, they look almost like nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.
Especially with leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he “fell” off the table.
And not for the first time, you feel a little twinge of something that squirms in your stomach as you watch them. Except you’re not watching them…because you can only look at him.
After he wraps, he hangs back. Tells you it was mildly inspired by the sort of daydreams he used to have in high-school over this one girl. And you almost wanna ask about her, but you’re cut off by an AD who runs up in a panicked state over some angry phone call from the production heads.
They’ve received the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner with total access to their distribution channels—granting you full creative control, intellectual property rights to everything you create.
And exclusive use of Eddie.
(Effectively nullifying the horseshit deal they gave him originally for a much, much better one)
And you know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of stuff, but it will all be worth it when they fold. You and Eddie have big plans. You know you’re onto something special, and you’re in it together.
He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and a sandwich like a literal angel on earth.
An angel dressed up as a devil, because he’s got on this tank top with these arm holes that have been stretched waaaaaay beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos there.
And you aren’t entirely sure why a tank top has got you so hot and bothered when there’s not one intimate inch of his body you haven’t already seen up close and personal with your camera.
In fact, it is the very same body you are currently watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago.
You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is currently flickering on three screens as you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward…more like you’re mutually tickled by the absurd fact that it’s not?
There's not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two anymore. In a way, it's like there never was any to begin with.
He asks if you need any help, if he can sit in. He's interested in the process; thinks it could help him on set too. There's such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him; a thirst to be better, to learn.
You think it’s a great idea…at first.
Until you're watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded moans and groans of pleasure filling up your ears through your headphones starting to get slimy with sweat from your temples.
It’s terribly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because you’re curious about how he got so good at this and what it is he does to make these women come the way they do.
“So, what…what exactly are you doing here?”
You clear your throat, trying to cover the shake in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose presses in on her clit. Pretending he doesn’t notice your chest is heaving with his every word.
“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.
“I find my moments,” he smirks back. Winks.
And, uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to run his thumb over it? When did his fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did you get so wet?
He's close now. It wouldn't take anything for you to lean the rest of the way in and let his lips meet with yours. You can't, though. You don't. Because it would be so stupid. It would be wrong and bad and it could jeopardize both your careers.
You're starting the porn for women movement, here! You can't fuck your first star!
And you don't. You keep it professional. You tell him you're gonna call it a day and head home so he'll do the same. But when he calls you later that night with some ideas for a new script, and asks if he can run a few lines by you (just to see how it all sounds out loud, you know?), and you and he end up having insane, mind-blowing phone sex...
Well, that's different.
Isn't it?
Ty @urhoneycombwitch for big-braining this with me 😘
Also I know I did the parts of this in the most annoying way, soz. But I’ve never met a mistake I wouldn’t stop making 🤙🏻
I NEED some headcannons for Drew because just from looking at him, his demeanor, the dirty confidence he exudes, I know this man is absolutely obsessed with your ass. Like can’t ever get enough. Groping and squeezing any chance he gets. Making his gawking so incredibly obvious, being nasty in front of everyone on set and whispering dirty shit in your ear about how you’ve got him hard while he’s working. Always having you sit in his lap and showing off to everyone what’s his and never hesitating to bend you over his knee in a semi-public space and spank, jiggle and treasure what’s his.
i feel like he likes tits & ass, that’s the vibes I’m getting hehe also I’m so terribly sorry if this sucks, this is my first time writing headcanons 😭
↬︎ drew’s hands always seem to be grabbing your ass, it doesn’t matter where the two of you are, that man is all over you
↬︎ there isn’t a time where he doesn’t slap your ass anytime you walk in front of him
↬︎ whenever you’re in bed, he has you laying on top of him, his large hands squeezing and kneading the fatty flesh of your ass
↬︎ he’d be in the middle of a conversation with one of his cast mates, muttering “mhm” + “yeah”, barely listening because he’s too busy staring at your ass
↬︎ he 100% leaves bite marks on the cheeks of your ass, he just enjoys seeing your pretty ass littered with his handprints and bite marks
↬︎ “mine” is all he’d mutter, his hands cupping your ass, jiggling and squeezing it firmly
↬︎ he’d find any excuse just to bend you over his lap and spank you
↬︎ always has to have you sitting his lap and you could feel his cock nestled between the crease of your ass through your clothes
↬︎ as much as he loves seeing your pretty face, he loves having you face down into the mattress with your ass up so he can watch it jiggle and bounce with each of his thrusts
Lives Changed (ongoing) - eddie gets the deal of a lifetime and you have just received life changing news, your lives are changing but not with each other ~ Angst
Warnings: innuendo of sex, mention of sex, inappropriate language, Johnny being a cute boyfriend. Not yet reviewed.
You and Johnny have known each other since high school, through Reed. It turns out that having a similar IQ to Reed made you his best friend, when he met Sue, you were forced to meet Johnny Storm. At first, it was annoying, you hated his playboy and womanizing ways, he was always flirting with you and you had to put up with it every single day. It got worse when he and the others took the space trip where they gained their powers, he was always showing off his flames and attracting attention. You had to put up with him every single day, again, when you helped Reed officially found the Fantastic Four. Johnny was always winking, flirting, and touching you... until you discovered that everything he said was more real than the Thing's fake wig.
Johnny changed, the womanizing side was left aside, he changed for you. He fell madly in love with you just like you fell in love with him. He was always trying to make you feel special, in his own way. Sometimes when you were angry, he would bring you flowers, when he accidentally set them on fire because he was nervous.
Being Johnny's girl was not an easy task when your boyfriend is the most coveted and most admired man by women in New York. York. Even though Johnny told you every single day that you were his girl, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and possession when some random girl flirted with him, sent him letters with lipstick on his mouth, or winked at him.
But despite the jealousy, being Johnny's girl also had its good moments. All of New York knew you're the girl from the Human Torch:
Before heading to the Baxter Building for a day of work as Reed's assistant, you walk towards the coffee shop. To say the least you were late and that was never like you, the girl who was always right, punctual, intelligent and Reed's sweetheart. You blame the delay on your sister-in-law, Sue, who kept you up late showing you the wedding dresses she intended to choose for her wedding to Reed.
You enter the coffee shop, the bell ringing as you enter the place with the aroma of several different types of coffee. As soon as you approach the counter, the manager immediately smiles and says to the attendants the usual:
"Johnny's girl espresso!"
Johnny's girl. The title caught on everywhere and you loved being his girl. I mean, who wouldn't love to be Johnny's girl?
You were in the laboratory, making notes on what you and Reed could do to make HERBIE's intelligence more up to date, the robot was part of that crazy family of superheroes. You were doing it alone as Reed was busy making new installations in the Baxter Building, Sue and Ben were decorating the building with decorations for Valentine's Day.
Then your attention is taken away when you feel your reading glasses come off your eyes and Looking up, you see your boyfriend putting his glasses on his eyes and giving a charming smile.
"What do you say?" He strikes a playful pose, flexing his strong biceps through that skin-tight jumpsuit that makes you look horny just by looking at it. “Do I look smart and sexy?"
You pretend to roll your eyes and look at him, taking his glasses off his eyes. "No, you look even more stupid."
"Hey baby, that was mean of you." Johnny says placing his hand on his chest and pouting dramatically. "I'm Johnny Storm, I'm sexy and hot even if I were bald."
Johnny's smile was enough to make your legs go wobbly and you thank God you're sitting down. Johnny on the other hand, grabs your hands and pulls you up so you can stand up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. "How's my girl?"
You smile, hands stroking his strong biceps on your shoulders. "Actually, I want to eat something."
"Really?" Johnny whispers, his brown eyes turning a darker shade and his voice full of desire. His hands, covered in black gloves, went down to your ass and squeezed lightly. "Because I'm hungry too. Very hungry."
You look at him, your eyebrow raised and biting your lip, because Johnny always had an insatiable thirst for you that happened when you least expected it and in the least expected place.
"Uh, uh." You place your index finger on his lips as he leans in to kiss you. "Last time you did this, we ended up getting laid here in my lab..."
"Yes, and it felt fucking good." He growls, biting your finger playfully.
"But it wasn't cool when Reed found out and had you wash the Fantastic Car with an old toothbrush after Ben ate nachos and burritos." You remind him and he groans in disgust at the memory.
"I'm going to ban all machos and burritos from this town." Johnny says with a look of disgust, but soon replacing it with a smirk. "But come on, we'll be careful this time. My girl likes naughty thrills."
Yes, damn, you did after you met Johnny and didn't know each other anymore. Johnny managed to corrupt Reed's innocent assistant with just carnal acts. You couldn't complain, the sex with Johnny was incredible and mind-blowing, after all, he had a lot of experiences before you.
But despite that, you deny it, maybe because Sue and Ben were walking back and forth with their Valentine's Day decorations, it wouldn't be nice to be caught by Sue or Ben.
"I promise that tonight beautiful lingerie awaits you in your dorm." You say smiling and Johnny's eyes light up like a child just getting candy.
"A lingerie, huh?" Johnny smiles. "You know, I wrote this in my letter to Santa Claus, but I didn't think I'd get the gift so soon. Any special reason?"
Typical of Johnny forgetting the dates and not noticing all the Valentine's Day decorations lying around . Sometimes he was distracted, like the last time he got lost on a car trip because he got distracted watching two ants having sex
"Today is Valentine's Day." You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. Johnny tries to hide his surprise with a smile.
"Y-yes, of course I did. I haven't forgotten. Pff, I would never forget the date of our first kiss." Johnny says. "Me? Never!"
You nod, suppressing your smile, finding his denials about not having forgotten that date cute. "Did you hear that?" Johnny says suddenly and you frown, not hearing anything. "Ben is calling me, he must have gotten stuck in the toilet again. I'll see you later, I love you!" Johnny kisses you before running out the door.
"I love you too." You say, even though he was already gone.
It was almost seven in the afternoon and you were locking the lab to go to Johnny's dorm floor to do the who promised, you were eager to say the least. This night would be unforgettable.
Or not.
Ben runs towards you looking panicked, panting as if he had run a marathon to get to you. You look at him confused, finding his behavior strange.
"Johnny was attacked on the terrace! We need his help!" Ben says.
His words were enough for you to run to the elevator and press the button for the building's terrace several times. Once there, you look around trying to find Johnny, already expecting to see the worst of your boyfriend.
But there was nothing.
Then, the sky is lit by something strong with yellow and orange colors. You look up at the sky and see your boyfriend flying with his body full of flames, waving at you with an arrogant and passionate smile on his lips.
You can smile in relief as he slowly flies towards you and extinguishes the flames when he lands on the floor.
"Ben said...oh my god, I'm going to kill him." You say hugging your boyfriend tightly. Johnny smiles, hugging you back and placing a kiss on your forehead.
"I'm fine, I asked him to do it." Johnny says, pulling away a little to look at your face, a smile playing on his lips. "You know I've always liked a dramatic entrance."
He points to the sky and your heart pounds with love for your boyfriend when he sees the sky in flames, something he did for you, written: I love you, my girl.
"Happy Valentine's Day, baby." Johnny whispers in your ear, gently kissing your ear.
"I love you." You smile, looking into his eyes and then up to the sky where Johnny's statement was written with his flames. He lit up the sky for her for all of New York to see his love for her.
"I love you more, my girl." Johnny kisses your lips, with love and fire. His lips moving against yours, bringing butterflies to your stomach. He pulls away and puts his forehead against his. “Are you still going to wear that lingerie? Because I think big Johnny is ready for action." He points to his groin.
cw: age difference (30s/40s), alcohol, smoking, light choking, softdom!Eddie, face fucking, light hair pulling, fingering, piv sex, finishing inside, and aftercare ‘cos we deserve it ♥️
I’ve been in a Mood and now you all have to suffer.
eddie edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
Holy shit, was this guy boring.
Not terribly surprising, unfortunately. Your expectations weren’t all that high to begin with. Most of your recent forays into online dating had been yielding overwhelmingly middling results and this one was no exception.
He had seemed perfectly nice on the app, when he was nothing but a handful of generic pictures and a smattering of inoffensive text bubbles. But any appeal he held had been in steady decline the moment he took his seat next to you at the bar.
He looked more scared of you than anything—fumbling his words and constantly having to push up his glasses as they slid down the bridge of his sweaty nose. You did what you could to help him relax, coaxing him into the conversation, asking all of those tedious first date questions.
And every single one, he answered with nothing but curt, clipped responses. Making no attempt whatsoever to follow up or ask you literally one single thing about yourself.
Then you made the fatal mistake of asking about work, and suddenly longed for the wall of silence. As soon as he got the chance, he launched into a long and droning explanation of his research on the behavior of crickets.
Acheta Domesticus, not that you asked. And he didn’t so much as smirk at your gesundheit joke.
You might have called it quits entirely by now…if it wasn’t for the guy at the end of the bar.
He had arrived not fifteen minutes after your date did, and slid smoothly onto a stool directly in your eyeline. Which was good, considering you would have snapped your neck trying to get a look at him otherwise.
In a word, he was beautiful.
Slightly older, with long dark hair that was wavy and ruffled. A short and scruffy beard that only further accentuated the hard line of his jaw where it met the thick, muscular column of his neck.
He was quite literally littered with accessories—a silver hoop that glinted in his nose, leather cuff and chains on his wrists, chunky rings on his fingers that rapped rhythmically on the bar.
Then there were the more permanent accessories in the form of black ink tattoos that covered both his arms and scrawled upwards to peek out from underneath the collar of his t-shirt. A mix of all different styles and designs, ranging in quality from the kitchen scratcher bats on his elbow to the larger and more artful pieces clearly woven in later to complete the tapestry.
You’d certainly never seen him here before, and that was sort of a feat for this place.
West End was one of your favorite places for this sort of date. It was close enough to your place to be convenient, yet far enough that there was no chance of a guy trying to invite himself over to “use the bathroom” or “wait for an Uber” or whatever other excuses they dredged up.
It was actually two businesses in one, sharing the same name, running out of opposite sides of the same building. Causing only mild confusion.
To one side was a wine bar with cozy seating nooks furnished with plush loveseats, sofas and overstuffed armchairs, all a mishmash of vintage styles from thrift shops and flea markets.
But the other side was all modern and industrial—a billiards hall with high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and a large, glossy horseshoe bar that surveyed the tables from the center.
You tended to frequent the wine bar with your roommate Robin whenever you found yourselves in need of a moody atmosphere and some low, soft lighting, your evening scored by the crackle of some great vinyl record. But the other side was better for dates because it automatically gave you the out of an activity in case you found the conversation lacking.
And boy was it lacking tonight.
He regarded the pool tables more like they were live alligators and quickly dismissed your offer to play before launching right back into his overly-detailed explanation of the differences in the eating habits of crickets and grasshoppers. You sighed, no longer attempting to disguise your boredom as you propped your elbow on the bar and rested your chin on your hand.
It wasn’t just that his research was boring—though it was. Really, the problem was all of his technical explanations were so dry and devoid of any emotion that it made you wonder if he even enjoyed it. You had more stimulating interactions with the bartender, for crying out loud.
He was new to you too, but he moved behind the bar with such ease it seemed like he’d worked there for years. He’d introduced himself as Steve, a row of pearly white teeth winking at you as he flashed a smile you were sure had won him his fair share of superlatives in high-school.
His look read more upscale mixologist, sporting a dark gray vest over a crisp white button down. Sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms that flexed with the pour of every drink, and the collar left open to reveal the glint of a gold chain resting on the soft down of his plentiful chest hair.
The hair on his head was shorter and lighter than the other man’s, but it was long enough to curl slightly around his ears and along the nape of his neck. The ends of it were kissed with caramel highlights that shone in the light when he flipped his head back or ran his large hands through the feathered locks whenever a piece fell forward into his bright hazel eyes.
Most importantly, he also seemed to be friends with your current fixation.
They had greeted each other jovially, hands meeting in a tight clasp over the bar before Steve grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started to pour without the other man even having to order. You watched with morbid fascination as those plush lips wrapped around the rim of his glass and his eyes fluttered closed as he took his first sip, the tattoo on his neck bobbing with the swallow.
Jesus Christ on a cracker…
Suddenly, as though he could sense you watching, his eyes popped open and immediately locked on yours. You started at the sight of the deep brown, almost black, vortexes in the middle of his face, nearly choking on the sip you were taking of your own drink—an excellent Malbec Steve had recommended when you first arrived.
A rush of warmth exploded on your face and you looked away, doing your best to pretend like he hadn’t just caught you blatantly staring at him.
Or that you hadn’t felt that egregious burst of excitement when he did. Did he care that you were looking? Was he looking at you now?
Doesn’t matter, you reminded yourself, trying to return your attention to the man in front of you.
The one you had made an actual plan to come here and meet; the one who was…still talking.
The next bit of your date felt like it took an entire year. You mostly phoned it in, reluctant to admit defeat too quickly. But over and over again, you found your focus drifting either to the stranger at the end of the bar, or to the bartender. And often, those two went hand in hand.
Again, they were either very old friends or both of them were extremely friendly. They talked and joked back and forth in between Steve helping other customers, bouncing from end to end of the bar with ease, charming smile never faltering as he enchanted every person he served.
As for the other man, you’d caught his eye enough times by now that there was no mistaking he was watching you. Though, you suppose that meant he knew you were staring at him as well…
At the end of your first glass of wine, you excused yourself from the bar—needing a break from this guy’s droning voice more than anything.
He nodded, finally taking a sip of his beer he’d barely made any progress on he’d been so entrenched in his recent soliloquy.
The bathrooms at West End were towards the back, down a long hall that obscured them from view of the rest of the bar. It gave the impression of being in an alleyway with black beadboard paneling that came a little over halfway up the wall and an eclectic gallery of pictures.
There were two bathrooms side by side, just single-room stalls adorned with brass apartment numbers rather than gendered signs, and you slipped into the one with no light coming out from underneath the door. And maybe you took a little longer than you probably needed, milking your break for all it was worth. Not stalling, just…taking care of some things.
Things like touching up your lip gloss that needed no touching up since you hadn’t said more than two words in the past half hour. Or like pulling up Tinder on your phone and setting your location to the absolute minimum distance. You know…just on the off-chance someone in the immediate vicinity happened to also have the dating app installed.
No such luck, you found.
A bit more deflated than you had any right to be, you tucked your phone back into your bag and rolled your eyes at yourself as you reached for the doorknob. You didn’t look up until you were almost at the end of the hall and when you did, you found brown eyes looking back at you.
He was headed for the bathroom as you were coming back and he caught you at the start of the long, narrow hallway leading to them. Your eyes met his as you approached and you paused, already anticipating that awkward shuffle of both of you trying to get out of the other’s way.
There was no awkwardness, though.
Heat pooled low in your belly as he held your gaze, and rather than breezing right by when you came to a stop, he stopped as well and leaned against the wall to let you pass. He was close enough now that you could see his hair was streaked with slivers of silver and more grays tinged the edges of his beard, particularly under his ears behind the hinge of his jaw.
Your shoulder just barely brushed his chest as you passed, eye contact holding until you were looking back at him over your shoulder as you returned to the bar.
He stood there, watching until you’d rounded the corner and were out of sight before he moved. Pulse thrumming, you slid into your seat with his cologne still in your nose, tickling your brain.
By the end of your second glass of wine, you were more than ready to go. Frowning as you took your last sip, you gave Steve a regretful shake of your head when he asked if you wanted another.
And beside you, Dale just requested your checks as he pushed away his beer.
You didn’t bother with feeling annoyed he hadn’t offered to get even one of your drinks. To be fair, you had not been remotely good company as it was, and especially not once the guy at the far end of the bar decided to call it a night.
Your heart sank just a little as you watched him stand and pull on a creased and faded leather jacket. He then headed for the door, his eyes locking with yours one last time as he went.
Beside you, your date cleared his throat loudly to get your attention and your head jerked up as you realized Steve had placed your receipt in front of you to sign. If Dale—wait, was it Dale or Dave?—noticed your fixation, he was too polite (or too chicken) to mention anything about it.
Tabs closed and coats thrown back on, you followed Dale (Drew? Dirk?) outside. The wintry air cut through your tights and you hugged your coat a little tighter around you.
“So, which way are you headed?” you asked, rushing out the words before he could ask the same thing and float the idea of sharing a ride.
“Uptown?” he replied.
“Ahh, I’m the other way.”
A derisive snort made your head whip sideways and your eyes darted to the source, landing first on the glowing orange dot of a cigarette and then on the plush pink lips wrapped around the filter at the other end. The snide comment locked and loaded on your tongue abruptly stalled.
It was him.
He leaned against the brick facade, foot kicked up behind him, watching your whole interaction. It made your cheeks burn with indignation, but the hungry look in his dark eyes made your entire lower half throb. His lips curved like the blade of a knife into a smirk as he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and dropped it in a planter filled with sand next to him. You stared at him, your mind sort of blank, and his eyes remained fixed on yours as he strode back inside the bar.
“Okay, well…I guess I’m gonna go,” Dale sighed, a little petulantly.
You brought your eyes back to him and plastered on your most professional smile, shaking his hand formally like this was the end of an interview for a job he was never gonna get.
“Sounds good,” you said. “Nice to meet you.”
He frowned as he turned away, but you felt relatively certain you’d navigated that fine.
Surely he hadn’t felt the date warranted any other sort of follow-up or lie about doing it again—you certainly hadn’t been on your A-game. And you shuddered to think that was his.
Once he’d gotten in his Uber, alone, and you had assured him the one you had yet to call was on its way, you tugged your phone out of your coat pocket and checked the time.
Right now, you had two choices. It was still early enough that Robin could probably come pick you up with minimal begging required.
Maybe you two could get fries and milkshakes and watch some garbage reality tv before falling asleep in a little cuddle pile on the couch.
It was the reasonable option.
The logical, safe choice.
But all your dates lately had been so painfully reasonable and logical and safe. There had been no horror stories to regale Robin with at Sunday brunch, nor any explosive sexual exploit the two of you could squeal and giggle over while curled up on your overstuffed sofa.
It was downright boring. And you were growing pretty weary of it.
You glanced down one more time at your phone, still thinking. Your thumb hovered over Robin’s contact info, needing only a single tap to dial, while your index rested on the lock button.
With a subtle flex of your hand, you clicked the screen off and headed back into the bar.
One more drink couldn’t hurt…right?
“Back so soon?”
Steve was already smiling smugly at you as you approached, his eyebrow cocked as you slid back into your original seat and returned his smile with one of your own.
“I decided I couldn’t live without another glass of that Malbec,” you sighed dreamily.
He nodded, amusement still tugging at his lips as he uncorked the bottle you’d been steadily draining all night and took down a clean glass from one of the wire racks suspended overhead. You pulled your card from your bag and held it out for him to reopen your tab, but Steve waved it off as he placed down the newly filled glass in front of you and slid it smoothly across the bar.
“It’s taken care of, honey,” he said.
“Oh, really?” you chuckled. “By who?”
Steve smirked at your incredulous tone, his muscled forearms flexing as he leaned on them.
You leaned forward as well, crossing your arms under your chest, knowing how nicely it propped up your cleavage. It made the bartender’s eyes flash as he lowered his voice to a leading hum.
“The dirtbag at the end of the bar.”
He nodded his head backwards, making those caramel-kissed locks of his flop across his brow. Your gaze followed Steve’s nod, landing on the wild head of hair and all-consuming brown eyes you’d been distracted by all night. The “dirtbag” in question was staring straight back at you, the corner of his mouth curled as he raised his rocks glass of brown liquor and tipped it to you.
“Is he really a dirtbag?” you asked him, your eyes never dropping the stranger’s gaze.
“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “Just looks like one.”
“Good to know.”
You hummed to yourself, feeling almost a little cocky as you brought your glass to your lips and took an excruciatingly slow sip. The eyes of the man across the bar watched you intently, a fire burning in them that ignited your very being.
As Steve moved on to another customer, you pulled your eyes from those of the handsome stranger and let them fall briefly to the empty stool beside you. It was about as bold as you were willing to be at the time, but it did the trick. He promptly swiveled in his seat to slide off it and you smirked to yourself as you looked down, pretending to be fascinated by the garnet liquid swirling in your glass as he came around the bar.
“That’s a great Malbec,” he said.
God, his voice.
It made your cheeks (among other things) tingle, smooth and smoky as the whiskey in his glass you could smell as he placed it down beside your wine. The scent of it mixed with his cologne that was dangerously close to becoming your new favorite aroma—something woodsy and heady with a tinge of lightness like a salty sea breeze.
“It is,” you agreed, brow arching as he took the seat beside you. “You’ve had it before?”
“Nah,” he smirked. “You made it look so good, I had Stevie give me a taste. I told him to put your next one on me.”
Both of your brows raised at that. “And how’d you know I was coming back?”
“I didn’t,” he said, taking a cheeky sip of his drink. “I just hoped.”
You felt a smile burgeoning on your lips and pulled your bottom one back with your teeth trying, unsuccessfully, to fight it. He watched it spreading, the tip of his tongue running over the edges of his teeth as he offered you his hand.
You slid your own into his, feeling the exquisite pressure of chunky silver rings pressing on your fingers as he gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Eddie.”
“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” you purred right back, offering him your name after a beat.
He repeated it once, all low and rumbly, taking his time with the sound of it in his mouth like it was a piece of chocolate melting on his tongue. Holding your hand a bit longer than necessary.
“So I’m assuming Desperate Dan out there wasn’t your boyfriend?” Eddie asked, chuckling into his next sip. The sound of it spiraled down your back, electrifying your spine.
“Nope,” you sighed heavily. “Just another drop in the Tinder bucket.”
Eddie’s dark eyes gleamed with something like mischief and he made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Well, if that’s the case, I sincerely apologize, sweetheart.”
“Oh, yeah?” You smiled at him. “What for?”
His eyes flickered again, this time taking a long moment to do a sweep up and down your body. Landing on your knees in your tights, flitting back up to your face as she shook his head.
“If someone like you has had to resort to dating apps…we’ve clearly failed as a gender.”
You actually shivered at the words, forcing your shoulders still not to show it as you propped your elbow on the bar and swiped the tips of your nails across your chin and along your jaw to play with your earring. Deepening your voice to a sultry murmur he had to lean in close to hear.
“No argument there.”
You rushed into the bathroom, flapping both your hands back and forth to fan your face and then under your arms. Safely hidden behind the door, your air of detachment could fall away and you could finally let out all the patently un-cool reactions you had been fighting the last hour.
With trembling hands, you pulled your phone out of your bag and fired off a text to Robin.
hey, I’m gonna share my location with you the rest of the night.
wait WHAT? Losera Annoyingus is getting a bang pass?
no he left…
…about an hour ago.
A blue bubble with three blinking dots immediately popped up on the thread and you imagined Robin’s thumbs actually smoking she was typing so furiously fast. But she must decide to abandon her message, because within a split second, a picture of you and her with your faces smushed together came up on the screen as she called you instead.
“Hey,” you whispered, praying your voice didn’t echo too much off the tiled walls.
“Explain,” she demanded. “Now.”
The excitement in her voice only increases your own, your cheeks still impossibly hot as you stand over the sink and fan yourself some more before another layer of sweat can form on your face.
“It’s this guy I met at the bar. He was like, making eyes at me while I was on my date and we started talking after and I just—I don’t know for sure, but it feels like he’s gonna take me home.”
“Is he hot?”
“Yes,” you breathed out a heavy, lustful sigh. “He’s so hot I wanna rip his appendix out.”
“Holy shit,” Robin whistled. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s…I don’t know,” you laughed. “He kind of looks like a Harley that came to life.”
“Alright then, you better go ride him.”
Robin’s snorted laugh makes you cover your own face with your palm. It’s searing hot now, your blood pumping furiously beneath the surface of your skin.
“Well, I have to get back out there to make that happen.”
“Go, go, go—have fun, use protection! Wait, hang on, not in that order!”
You laughed at her warning coming through faintly over the receiver as you mashed the button to end your call. With one last steadying breath, you leaned on the sink and nodded decisively.
“Okay,” you exhaled. “Let’s do this.”
Sage and sea salt filled your nose as you yanked the door open and nearly ran straight into the source of the scent. Eddie leaned against the wall across from the bathroom doors, shoulders shifting subtly as he twisted one of the large rings on his fingers.
You stood face to face now, hands hovering at your sides as you edged into the hallway.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, tucking his chin to his chest as he looked up at you from under long lashes. “Someone’s in the other one.”
You glanced suspiciously at the second bathroom door, seeing no light coming from underneath it. Eddie winced, still smirking adorably as you turned the knob and pushed it open to reveal it was empty on the other side. He chuckled, holding up his hands in a mock surrender.
“Fine,” he sighed. “You caught me.”
“Thought I was making a break for it?” you asked, pulling the door shut. Eddie’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, his eyes roving over you slowly.
“I’d hate to think I scared you off,” he said as he kicked off the wall to stand up straight.
You crossed your arms under your chest, giving him a smile. “I don’t scare so easy.”
He nodded at that, his eyes still taking you in, scanning you like he was reading invisible stats. They lingered a few places you expected, like the curve of your hips and the swell of your chest. But then they landed on other things too, things you weren’t used to people noticing.
Things like your shoulders, or your calves in your boots, even your fucking ears.
“So…everything alright?” he asked, his voice lowering as he took a step closer.
“Yeah, I was just letting my roommate know I might be gone a while.” You held up your phone and tucked it back inside your bag with another coy smile. He chuckled.
“A while, huh?” Step.
“Yeah, you know...it’s pretty late.” Step. “Might be tough to get an Uber.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie shrugged. “I live close.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You were nose to nose now, barely a whisper of space between you, the air thick with the heat radiating off your bodies in the narrow space.
The well worn leather of his jacket sleeve creaked softly as his hand came up to rest on the wall, caging you in with his arm.
“How close?” you asked, breath shuddering as you leaned on the door for support.
“Up the street,” he sighed. “But it’s still too far.”
His warm breath ghosted over your lips as they parted, the smell of the liquor coating his tongue making you feel woozy. Or maybe that was just the effect he was having on you.
He was so close now you could hear the bristly sound his beard made as he scratched at it with blunt fingertips. He’d barely inhaled to ask if he could kiss you when you surged forward to press your lips to his—the roughness of his beard on your chin a welcome abrasion.
Scratching the itch that’s plagued you all night.
It’s a hungry, lawless sort of kiss. Quick and clashing and difficult to tell if it’s actually mean or not—like two dogs play-fighting, both trying to see how much they can get away with before light snarls and soft snaps of their jaws turn to whimpers and whines.
Eddie parried with you for control, his tongue darting in and out of your mouth as he plied you with teasing, playful kisses you fought to deepen, tugging at his shirt. He pushed off the wall and reached down to grab your wrists, pinning them over your head to keep them in place.
The thrill of him trying to restrain you only made you unravel further, straining impatiently against his grasp. Breathless, you stretched out your neck and pushed your face past all his hair to place your lips beside his ear and pant into it.
“Can we go back to—”
“You wanna come back to—”
The both of you chuckled and exhaled with relief as your words and his overlapped, and you felt a sudden rush between your legs from the way Eddie’s eyes blazed with intention.
He released his hold on your wrists and your arms fell limp at your sides. In an instant, he had your hand wrapped tightly in his and was pulling you along as he angled towards the exit.
As you hurried after him out of the hallway and across the bar, you distantly registered music playing, picking out the chugging guitar and bass riffs of some 80s dance song. From behind the bar, Steve caught Eddie’s eye and you saw him offer his friend a two finger salute as the two of you burst through the door, your departure narrated by Paul Stanley’s deep, silky croon.
And tonight, I want to lay at your feet. Cause girl, I was made for you, And girl, you were made for me…
Eddie wasn’t kidding about living close.
Your boots clacked on the sidewalk as he ushered you along under his arm, the quick pace of your walk driven both by the chill in the air and the desire to resume what you started at the bar.
“This is me,” he said, indicating a four-story brick building just a block away from West End.
His place was on the top floor. It was a large studio with high ceilings and many features similar to the bar you’d just left. Half of the space was raised like a platform with a steel wire railing running along the edge. He had his bed up there and what looked like an office, but he’d created a divider of sorts with cube shelves filled with sweats, hoodies and t-shirts.
Promptly, you recalled him telling you he owned a company that designed and distributed merch for independent artists, and how he was constantly receiving samples from suppliers.
The kitchen was simple, sleek cabinetry and stainless steel appliances without a single smudge. A massive butcher’s block with a wooden top and wire racks underneath serving as an island. And a steel rack hanging down from overhead laden with cast iron cookware.
You took a few more careful steps inside, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath from being kissed stupid in the elevator while Eddie flipped some switches that illuminated the space with recessed lighting. Large black-paned windows revealed a view of the city and the night sky outside, some amber light from the street filtering in and casting across the oak floors.
In his living area was a massive brown leather sectional with extra-deep cushions and a chaise at both ends. It faced a plain wall with a screen you assumed went with the projector hanging down from one of the exposed beams overhead.
Every inch of your skin crackled with excitement as he came up behind you and reached around to grip the lapels of your coat and help you out of it, letting his fingertips skim your bare arms as he did. It made you shiver in spite of the warm air you could feel pumping out of the vents.
He hung up your coat next to his on a hook by the front door and you turned to face him as he sauntered back over. His gait was relaxed and casual, like he had all the time in the world.
Like he wasn’t driving you up the wall with every second you went without his mouth on yours.
“Did you want another drink?”
He gestured in the direction of a liquor cabinet, glass shelves lined with a modest array of wines and spirits, but you shook your head at the offer.
“Not particularly,” you said with a coy grin.
Reaching out and hooking a finger in his belt loop, you whirled yourself into him and slotted your mouth against his, licking into it to taste the smoky remnants of whisky there. He breathed into it deeply, his broad chest expanding with it and chuckling when he felt your hands on his belt.
“Easy there, tiger,” he teased, your lips breaking apart and taking hold of your wrists to still their efforts. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“Hopefully the kind that knows how to fuck.”
You smirked, the tip of your tongue flicking out between your teeth as your face veered in again. Your hips pressed with his and you began to sway back and forth, gently grinding them on him, resuming the dance you’d begun. His face came close, his hands settling on your waist.
“C’mon, honey,” he drawled. “Haven’t you heard good things come to those who wait?”
His lips trailed along the column of your neck, sending a riot of shivers down your spine causing you to release a breathy sigh.
“Sorry, what? All I heard was come.”
Eddie chuckled at that and his breath rushed across your neck as he smiled into your jugular.
“You’re funny,” he sighed. “We’ll see how funny you are when I get done with you.”
It was a miracle your knees didn’t buckle on the spot. Your eyes rolled back in your head, almost seeing the inside of your skull as his hand came up and he placed it around your throat.
“You want this?” he asked, his tone cool and precise, his eyes wandering across your face.
“Yes,” you gasped, all desperate and panting now you were so eager for him to start.
His thumb and middle finger pressed the sides of your throat, slowing the flow of blood just enough to make your head go fuzzy and your body to go just barely limp in his arms.
“Yes, what?” he growled. You drew a shuddering breath, unrestricted by his expert hold.
“Yes, I want this,” you answered. “I want you.”
Eddie took his time undressing you, softly kissing the new expanse of skin he unveiled with the removal of each piece of clothing.
He nipped lightly at your collar bones as he shed your blouse, canines catching briefly on the chain around your neck. He dragged his lips torturously slow over your stomach as he undid your skirt and it fell to the floor with a soft plop. His breath rush across your thigh as he kneeled to drag down the zippers of your boots, kissing your inseam though your tights all the way down to your ankles.
Every second was a kind of exquisite torture. Your heart hammered behind your ribs, the bones almost rattling with the force of it. And as much as you were dying to grab him by the back of the head and take over, you let yourself slip steadily under the spell of his affections.
You believed what he seemed to be whispering with his eyes in between every indelible kiss he dropped to your buzzing skin. He had you. He would take care of you. You could trust him.
And once you were totally bare in front of him, he held out his hand for you to take and he spun you in a slow circle like a ballerina in a music box, his eyes feasting on every inch of you.
If it was anyone else, you might have shied away. You might have felt some level of shame or concern about being stark naked in front of him while he was still fully clothed. You might have worried he would see something he didn’t like, some flaw or defect you preferred hidden. But the look on his face was nothing short of rapturous.
He walked you over to the couch and kissed you deeply as he removed his clothes. Showing not an ounce of the kind of care and consideration for his own as he did for yours, he stripped them off hastily and discarded them, tossing them away like they were garbage.
Your naked bodies came together in a full press, his arms curling around your form and his hands stroking your skin like he was trying to make sure not a single part of it went untouched.
At last, he sank down onto the sofa and his knees spread apart, his hard cock standing stiff and ready for you. He took your hands in his like he was going to pull you forward onto his lap, but you dropped to your knees instead, tucking your feet under your ass.
You looked up at him expectantly, your eyes darting between his face and his cock, the corners of your mouth curling upwards in a smile as your brows raised with a silent question.
“You sure?” he asked, circling his base with his thumb and forefinger to give a gentle squeeze. “I can take care of you, you know? Fuckin’ love to.”
“Don’t worry,” you said cooly, lashes fluttering as you scooted closer. “You will.”
You placed your hands on his knees and pushed them further apart so you could lean forward to kiss up the inside of his leg. Trying to give him a taste of his own slow, teasing medicine, you worked your way all the way up to the crease of his thigh and turned your head inward.
Eddie’s breath stuttered as your lips met his shaft, poking your tongue out to run it up the length. His head tipped to the side, his ear touching his shoulder to get a better view of you licking at him, halting grunts and gasps tumbling past his lips as yours puckered to kiss it more.
When you were satisfied you’d gotten him sufficiently worked up, you reached out and wrapped your hands around him fully, your fists stacked and twisting gently.
You stroked him off slow and even, your hands squeezing tight around his shaft, mixing your spit and the beginning of his spend that leaked from his tip. He watched you reverently, eyes hooded as he enjoyed your show. And looking up at him, a gooey sort of warmth filled your entire body.
You felt yourself slipping further into that sort of headspace you craved—all pliant and willing, your knees digging into his plush area rug as your legs tingled with numbness.
Your heart raced as you imagined giving yourself up to him completely.
Letting him take whatever he wanted from you.
As though he sensed it, as though he could read the desperation in your eyes, he cradled your jaw in his large hand and dotingly stroked the side of your face as he tilted his head at you.
“What is it, baby?” he cooed encouragingly. “What do you want? You can tell me.”
“Want you to use me,” you pleaded, fingers still sliding around him. “Use my mouth.”
Eddie gazed at you where you kneeled in front of him, your eyes having gone all big and round and glassy, shining with the tears you were dying for him to make spill down your cheeks.
Begging for it.
“Of course, baby, of course,” he sighed, gripping your chin and swooping in to kiss you deeply.
His firm hold gave you permission to go limp and you let your hands fall from his cock to rest on his muscled thighs, palms coasting over his tattoos and sparse leg hair. He pulled back, keeping your chin grasped in his fingers, holding your face still as he instructed you.
“You slap me three times in a row if you want to stop, okay?” he ordered in a husky rasp. “Do it for me now, so I know you can.”
You obeyed instantly, delivering three strikes to his thigh. His lips curled in a devilish grin.
“That’s it, just like that,” he hummed in approval. “What a smart girl you are, huh?”
The praise rippled down your back, his words making you tingle all over, much like your calves that were starting to go numb from sitting back on them. He reached around the back of your neck, gently guiding you into position so his cock was pointed directly at your lips.
His large hands nearly covered your entire head, holding it in his firm grasp, his fingertips digging into your scalp and causing even more shivers. Eyes locked with his, you let your mouth hang open and your tongue loll out fully, reaching almost all the way to your chin.
Eddie moaned loudly, mesmerized by the pool of spit you’d let collect in your mouth and the way it dribbled past your lips, running down your tongue and dripping onto your chest.
“Fuuuuck,” he chuckled low and rough, touching just the tip of his dick to your wet tongue. “You really want me dead, huh?”
Your eyes danced as you nodded, the motion causing your tongue to brush against his sensitive slit and spread his precum across the flat of it. A sharp gasp punched from his chest, not ready for the sensation, and his whole body shuddered with need. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared as he gripped tighter around the back of your head and thrust fully into your mouth.
Lewd sounds filled the room as he pushed his cock past your lips, your mouth flooded with spit that poured out of you and pooled in the wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You felt your body going lax and floppy as you gave yourself over to him, letting him hold your head up as you melted into little more than a puddle.
“That’s it, baby. Just let go, let me take what I need,” he drawled in that smoky voice, beginning a gentle thrust of his hips that pushed him deeper still into your mouth. “You’re doing so well…”
The salty tang of him covered your tongue as your jaw slackened to accommodate more of him, the sounds you were making coming out garbled.
“Christ, you sound so fucking sweet choking on my cock” he groaned. “What a good slut you are, huh? Giving me this mouth, letting me ruin it?”
You gagged loudly as his cock pushed in further until his tip met the back of your throat. He held the back of your head and your nose was nuzzling against the hair at his base, breathing in his thick and heady musk. Far earthier than his cologne, this was a smell that could only be him.
His eyes flitted to your hand clutching at him, your nails digging into the meat of his thigh.
But you made no move to tap out. Another tight spasm of your throat had him throwing his head back, his eyes pinching shut and his lips falling open in a desperate gasp.
“Shit, that feels so good,” he whined softly, his domineering mask slipping ever so slightly—the broken sound only making you go more feral.
Bracing yourself on his thighs, you began to push your head down to meet his thrusts, fucking your own face with his cock so hard that his grip on the back of your head was extraneous.
“Okay, okay—okay,” he grunted, chest heaving as he pulled you off him before he could blow.
His fingers held fast in your hair, squeezing it at the roots. You drew in air in great heaving breaths, panting from the effort, your tongue still hanging out of your mouth and head bobbing as you tried to chase the cock he had to drag you off of.
“You’re a greedy fucking girl, aren’t you, baby?” he chuckled, yanking your head back sharply so you were staring at the ceiling, eyes straining to look at him over the curves of your cheeks.
“Yes, sir,” you gasped back, chest still heaving.
“You want my cum that bad?” he teased lowly, pushing his face against yours and smearing the wetness of your tears across your cheeks.
“Yes, please,” you whined pitifully. “I need it.”
“Oh, you’ll get it,” he assured you, reaching down with his free hand to rub between your legs. “But only if it goes in this needy little pussy.”
Your entire body writhed as his fingers toyed with your swollen clit and dripping folds, scalp stinging where he gripped your hair with his other hand.
A pleasurable wail burst out of you as his thick fingers thrust inside your warm, wet hole and started to scissor relentlessly.
“YES, fuck—come in me. Please, please…”
More tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you begged him, drip, drip, dripping off your chin and onto your heaving chest, rolling down your naked body, leaving wet trails in their wake.
Eddie had to fight the urge to lick your clavicle.
He hauled you up onto his lap, scooting down so he could plant his feet properly on the floor. Your knees sank into the worn leather of his cushions on either side of his hips and you used all what little strength you had left to reach down and align yourself with him.
“Don’t you hold back—haah—alright?” he said, hissing softly as you sank down on his length. “I want that fucking loser from Tinder to be able to hear you from here. Understand?”
You nodded, hips beginning to slide back and forth, relishing the way his thick cock prodded at your insides and stoked your desire. Eddie let you keep control for a moment, his hands squeezing at the softness of your stomach, molding it with them. He watched you raptly, mesmerized by the undulations of your body, the way you let it writhe and rock and squirm on him until he thought you might come solely from your own movements.
A loud, exhilirated moan burst out of you as he suddenly thrust his hips upwards, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he slammed into your g-spot on the first fucking stroke—as if he could see straight through your flesh to aim for it.
The room filled with sounds even more lewd than before—the wet clap of his thighs with your ass cheeks, his balls slapping your soaking pussy, your mound squishing into his pelvis.
Eddie threw his head back, overwhelmed by the sight of every part of you bouncing so prettily on him. And as he exposed his neck, everything in the room went hazy except that thick, taught, muscled column. Sending you feeling.
You clawed at it desperately and drew hot, red streaks down it with your nails that trailed all the way to the middle of his tattooed chest.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Mark me up. Show everybody who owns me—”
He slid his hands back to grip your ass, spreading the fleshy globes wide and stretching your holes further open as he continued to slam his length inside you. He let one side go and delivered a single stinging slap that reverberated throughout your whole body.
The burn made you keen, arching your back until your chest was flush with his. He reached up to grip the back of your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth and raking them over it.
“Now that that mouth is free, I wanna hear how good you feel,” he growled.
And if you thought you were loud before, it was nothing compared to now. The combination of his words and the perfect pace being set by his cock sent you instantly toppling over the edge, with Eddie’s own release following right behind.
In that moment, you vowed to send a fruit basket to every single one of his neighbors—an apology for making them think that a woman was getting murdered in the middle of the night two or three stories above their heads. The orgasm he brings you to makes you scream, practically sobbing as you cry out in immeasurable relief while searing hot pleasure ravages your entire body.
It’s an ascent you’ve never dreamed of reaching the peak of, the feeling spreading to the tips of every extremity, filling you with fire. It feels so good, it almost makes you sad to know you might never feel like this again. And if your brain hadn’t already turned to mush, you might have cared.
As you dwindled down from your high, you slumped forward limp and spent—your body still rippling with the effects, Eddie’s arms coming up to hold you against him as he peppered your shoulder with soft, sweet kisses.
“That’s it,” he breathed out in your ear. “That’s it, baby, just feel it…such a good girl f’me…”
He ran his fingers slowly up and down the column of your spine, creating waves of shivers waiting for your trembling to subside.
His length grew soft inside of you, but he made no move to slide you from his lap or to rush you in the slightest. He let you cling on to him, your face buried in his sweaty neck, his long hair tickling your face, losing yourself in his touch.
Slowly, your breathing grew deep and even, your racing heart slowing in your chest. Eddie turned his head and spoke to you quietly with his warm breath fanning across your cheek.
“You ready to move?” he asked.
You gave a weak nod.
Wobbling on unsteady legs, you stood and his hands quickly moved to the curve of your waist to keep you steady. He took you to the bathroom which looked more like it belonged in a spa than someone’s house, sitting you on the toilet.
From a hook hanging on the back of the door, he produced two bright white waffle weave robes, offering one to you. And as you wrapped the soft material around your shoulders, he turned on one of the faucets and held his fingers underneath it to test the temperature.
Once he’d deemed it warm enough, he took a fluffy washcloth from a little pyramid of them that were rolled up next to the sink basin. He held it under the stream, saturating the cloth and then giving it a gentle twist. You watched his hands every step of the way, mesmerized by the way his veins bulged under his skin and the muscles in his arms flexed as he wrung out the excess water.
He rubbed the warm cloth gently across your face, wiping off the residue of tears and spit and cum and what little was left of your make-up until your bare face shone in the soft lighting.
Once he had finished, he dropped the cloth into a hamper and cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs gliding easily over your slippery skin.
“So pretty,” he hummed, the words so soft you wondered if you were even meant to hear them.
From one of the drawers in the vanity, he brought out a pot of moisturizer and offered it to you with a smile. You frowned up at him, jutting out your bottom lip in a comical pout, not ready for him to stop taking care of you. It made him chuckle and a bemused smile spread across his lips as he tapped the tips of his fingers in the gel and started to smooth it over your cheeks.
“Come lay down with me?” he asked when he’d finished, head tilting back in the direction of the short set of stairs leading up to where his bed sat.
You nodded and he held out his hand to lead you out of the bathroom. You curled up on top of his dark duvet, your head sinking into the softness of his down pillow that held the faint scent of what you guessed was his tea tree oil shampoo.
The thick mattress dipped as he climbed onto it with you and draped a beige knit blanket over the both of you before he sidled up against your body.
It was…nice. More than nice. Shit, it was as close to perfect as you had felt in a long time.
The feel of his chest expanding and contracting against your back; his steady breath on the nape of your neck; the soft robe wrapped around your body and the comforting weight of the blanket on top of you. Not to mention Eddie’s arm curled securely around your waist.
Your eyes felt heavy, like your eyelashes suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, and you drifted fully into sleep, succumbing to the relief that had washed over you not twenty feet away.
When you woke, it was still dark out.
The street noise had lessened significantly and if you had to hazard a guess, it might have been close to one or two in the morning. Eddie’s place was darkened, lit only by orange street light that filtered through his windows and a half-dimmed reading light in the corner.
It was an arc lamp, suspended over a leather Eames chair where you could see that your coat and all of your previously discarded clothes were arranged in a neat little pile. But laid out at the foot of the bed right next to your feet were a pair of black fleece pants and hoodie, both about your size and emblazoned with the names of bands you didn’t recognize.
You sat up slowly, fingers hovering over the thick material as you debated. Were they for you? They looked a little big for Eddie, but maybe he had laid them out for himself? Was it a sign he was about to go to bed and you needed to get moving?
In the end, you slid out from underneath the blanket still draped over you and redressed in your clothes. After pulling your tights and skirt back on, stepping into your boots and zipping them up your calves, pulling your coat back on, you looked around the loft searching for Eddie.
From up here, you could see the bathroom door was open and the light was off…eliminating the only place he could actually be. And then your eyes fell on one of the windows that was cracked open with a short step-ladder built into the wall that had been pulled down in front of it.
You pulled your coat around you tighter the closer you got to the window and tentatively climbed the steps leading up to it. You pushed the large glass pane the rest of the way open and poked your head outside to find Eddie sitting on his terrace, resting with his back to the brick, head tipped back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke from his lips that drifted up towards the stars.
“Hey,” you said softly. His head turned at the sound and a wide smile spread across his lips.
“There she is,” he said in a gentle cheer.
You climbed through the window and a breeze carried the scent of the joint he was holding. You took a seat across from him, leaning back against the metal railing and letting your legs stretch out alongside his. He dropped his hand to rub your calf and he frowned at the realization you had redressed in your tights and boots. His brow furrowed adorably.
“Something wrong?” you asked.
He shook his head and took another drag of the joint before passing it into your waiting fingers.
“The clothes were for you,” he said. “Y’know, if you wanted something to sleep in.”
You paused, the joint just shy of touching your lips. “Like…if I was staying?”
“Would you stay?” he asked, a ribbon of smoke curling in the air as he exhaled.
Your mouth hung open, clouds of your hot breath escaping. “Oh, um…I mean, only if you—”
He cut you off with his lips, slipping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a long kiss. Tiny embers scattered from the joint, being taken by the wind that blew and made the ends of Eddie’s long hair tickle the sides of your face. You pulled apart and he answered solidly.
“I want you to,” he said.
wasn't expecting this to be so long (that's what she said), but I hoped you liked it if you made it this far 🩷 love you, mean it!
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