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Brian Eno, Drake Hotel, New York City, August 1974 by Linda D. Robbins

#Brian Eno #1974 #NYC #New York #musician #producer #activist #Roxy Music

interlewd !

pairing: producer!jo x fem!reader

the cold, metal of the microphone plugged into the looping machine hits your lips— satoru's finger tapping the side of it.

"c'mon, sweets. this'll sound amazing, i promise." he smirks, a mischievous glint in his baby blue eyes.

he unzips his pants, a noticeably large bulge packing in his boxers. he rubs himself through the fabric while seemingly setting up the looping machine, pressing buttons on the electronic tool next to your body.

he practically rips the boxers off from the waistband— discarding them, throwing them across the room. a musky scent fills the room, pre already leaking everywhere.

"can't forget these." his long fingers reach for the headphones laying on his white sheets, plugging them into the looping machine, setting them on his head.

he runs a finger— tip to balls— down his leaky cock, using his free hand to hold your legs up as he plunges inside your slick pussy, hitting rock bottom, almost instantly makin' out with your cervix as his long dick gets there.

you let a choked sound emerge from your lips, echoing in his headphones. he lets your legs go, and without his hands, he thrusts into you, eliciting more moans from you. you can't hear anything from his headphones, but he's making whatever he's hearing out to be heavenly.

he signals for you to hold the mic, and you do. the cord twirls in your arms, whimpers and moans filling his headphones. you don't doubt your boyfriend for a second. he's extremely talented, so he could probably make something as lewd and nasty as this into a heavenly track.

he presses glowing buttons as he moves into you, and now he's layering on top of your erotic moans. you sense that he had an idea, but you didn't expect for him to take the mic from you and hold it up to his dick.

loud n lewd squelching noises fill his headphones, becoming more needy and quicker as his hands tremble, getting closer to release. his hands fist the sheet, he presses a few buttons, and before you know it he's leaning down to kiss you.

his sweet lips are on yours, basically trying to swallow you whole. he moves his hips as he gets off to the incredibly intimate… music (or sex tape?) repeatedly playing in his ears, a deep hunger reflecting in his light eyes.

he lets go of the microphone, ripping his headphones out of the looping machine— exposing the track for the world to hear.

"…you hear that, sweetheart? that's what you sound like. p—pretty, isn't it?" he sobs, thrusting deeper into you until you see stars.

"w—well, toru.. when you put it like— fuuucckk! that…" your breath hitches, a low, ringing groan slipping from your lips. the track is still playing loudly in the background, setting the mood perfectly.

your nails dig into the bedsheets, holding on for dear life as you hear satoru lose his breath while hitting that sweet n spongy spot deep in your sopping cunt.

"shit! toru, i'm gonna!" you cry out, eyes rolling back.

"fuuuck, yes, sweetheart! let go, let me feel you come undone on my cock.." he encourages, running a free hand up your body as he feels warm cum leave his balls— straight into your wet pussy.

you, naturally, cum with him— being super careful to avoid the recording equipment laying on the bed.

your body goes lax and you close your eyes, feeling his half hard dick pull out of you, then his finger running down your sternum and stomach.

he collapses against you, nuzzling his head into your neck.

"that was… really hot, angel. i'm serious."

fuck i need a producer gojo to match singer!reader + i'm back

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