obsessedwithitall

[obsessedwithitall]

I kinda love books that are just good. They aren’t gonna change my life. They won’t affect how I think or see the world. I won’t stay awake running the words through my head over and over again. I probably won’t remember the main characters’ names. There’s a good chance I’ll forget I even read it at some point. But it was still good. It made me smile or laugh or cry or just feel content in the moment. Not every book needs to be a ground-breaker. Not every book needs to alter your brain chemistry. Not every book needs to be the best book you’ve ever read. Sometimes you read a book, and it’s just good. And that’s enough. That’s all you need

[obsessedwithitall]

[obsessedwithitall]

It's been three years since you last saw Eddie Munson. It felt like a lifetime had passed but it's not like you could ever really forget him and for a long time you tried, you really did.

And now he was right here in the same room as you. Shit...

No one really forgets their first love or their first heartbreak... you knew that better than anyone.

At school you and Eddie were in different circles, he was the guy who everyone deemed chaotic, a little dangerous and wild, the guy who girls like you should stay away from. Meanwhile you were best friends with Chrissy, a straight A student. Semi popular, a good girl.

Maybe if you had heeded that advice you would have saved yourself the heartbreak.

When Eddie sought you out you were intrigued, fascinated at the way he could be so loud, intense and a thorn in Jason Carver's side one minute to being sweet and gentlemanly, courteous and kind the next.

You fell for him hard despite your friends warnings that he was a "Dangerous" or "up to something". He was romantic with you, protective, chivalrous and sweet, both of you smitten from the start.

Eddie being described as dangerous made you giggle because once you really got to know him and saw the soft centre inside his hard shell it became ridiculous to you that people could think that.

Because Eddie wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone you...

Until you were proven oh so wrong and by Jason Carver of all people. Jason who has heard a conversation between Eddie and his friend Gareth, the two of them talking about how Eddie initially approached you to get close to Chrissy because he had a crush on her.

Jason took great delight in telling you that in front of the whole cafeteria after Eddie had riled him up one too many times. At that point Eddie had paled and even though you wished deep in your heart that what Jason was saying was a load of bullshit, you knew it wasn't.

That's when your heart broke, Eddie never really loved you did he? He wanted Chrissy all along. Perfect, sweet Chrissy. Your best friend.

You were dimly aware of Chrissy yelling at Jason and at Eddie, calling him an asshole and telling him to stay away from you. To be honest you fled before Eddie threw the first punch at Jason's smug face.

When you holed yourself up inside the girls locker room and finally let yourself break down that's when Eddie caught up to you or at least he tried to. You were sat on the floor, back against the door and heaving great sobs while Eddie desperately tried to talk to you.

"Please, please let me in princess. It's not... I had a stupid crush on Chrissy when we started talking but it meant nothing"

"You only started speaking to me because I'm Chrissy's best friend and you thought you had an in Eddie! Don't lie now. You're just pissed you got caught out" you could hear his sobs mingling with yours through the door and it broke your heart even more.

"No please baby, I love you okay? I fell in love with you, Chrissy was a stupid crush and it didn't matter, it went away when we started getting close, please open the door" his tone is begging, urgent.

"No! You were just using me from the start. Leave me alone. I hate you Eddie Munson" you shake with tears and you hear his broken sobs, then Chrissy is there and she's yelling at him that he's done enough and to leave you alone.

After that Chrissy wouldn't let Eddie near you, she dumped Jason for publicly humiliating you and the two for you stuck together like glue. You could tell she felt guilty for being the catalyst to Eddie's plan but it wasn't her fault. It was Eddie's.

You didn't speak to Eddie again, he tried to talk to you but you could never face him, the love you had for him was still so deep at that point but the heartbreak eclipsed all of it.

Pretty soon after graduation Eddie left Hawkins and you and Chrissy went to college together, you had a few dates and one serious boyfriend since Eddie but it never felt the way you did with him and that fucking sucked.

Now Eddie was in the same room as you after all of this time. You're at Steve's homecoming party and he's chatting with Dustin and Steve, he's all gesturing widely, big brown eyes wide, no doubt in some passionate rant about something.

A tug of longing fills you. More than once you wonder if you should have let Eddie at least explain his side. Would it have made a difference? Probably not. You still would have been heartbroken and felt used. It would have opened up more wounds and pain.

Eddie's chocolate brown eyes meet yours across the room and his mouth forms into a little oh...it's cheesy as shit but it's like there's some sort of cosmic shift that the two of you can only feel and it pulls you towards each other.

Within seconds Eddie is beside you, gazing at you with softness and the fairness traces of nostalgia and...longing.

"Hey princess"

❤️

What would you do? Would you hear Eddie out? Would you after three years give him a second chance? There is still a lot of love there along with all that heartache... I'd be interested to know. I left this open ended but slightly hopeful as it was pretty much all angst and it hurt like hell to write.

This is what I get after binging angst stories at two am. Oh well... ❤️🫣

[obsessedwithitall]

eddie blurb about reader who is very preppy dressing up all punk/goth for one of eddies gigs at a bar to fit in with the crowd.

he likes it alottttt

ty for requesting :D — eddie plans to take his preppy!gf to the hideout for the first time (established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 0.8k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

“Do you like?” you wonder aloud, with your arms splayed at your sides and a smile brightening your face. 

You watch wordlessly as Eddie’s wide brown eyes rake over your body — now intricately adorned with black and silver instead of your usual pastels. A flurry of butterflies bloom in the pit of your stomach. You feel almost shy, like he’s seeing you for the very first time.

Eddie opens his mouth but nothing comes out right away. Instead, he stutters, trying and failing to come up with a joke to conceal how flustered he’s gone. “Yeah. I—I like. I like very much, actually.”

His sneakers scuff the worn carpet of his bedroom floor as he takes a slow step toward you. He inhales the scent of your familiar, fruity perfume — a striking contrast to your darker appearance. You’ve teased your hair, smudged eyeliner beneath your eyes; you’ve even traded your delicate, flowery jewelry for chunkier silver ones. 

He reaches out a ringed hand and brushes his fingers over your pleated leather skirt, nothing more than an excuse to touch you. His eyes catch a run in your fishnets, obviously borrowed and tucked into a pair of used boots. He has to force his gaze to meet yours.

“Where’d all this come from?” Eddie asks, peering at you with chocolate button eyes half-hidden behind long lashes.

“The mall,” you shrug. “…And also Robin’s closet.”

“That checks out,” he laughs and steps back again. “C’mon. Give me a spin. Let me look at you.”

You smile with your tongue between your teeth and twirl before him with glee. Your skirt fans out at your thighs, flashing the edge of your fishnets and a brief glance of your light pink panties. Eddie has to remind himself to breathe.

“What’d you do all this for?” he lilts.

“For you, dummy,” you giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just— wanted to fit in with your friends, you know?”

The shy smile you give him makes his chest ache. “You’re sweet,” he hums. “But you didn’t have to do this, you know that, right?”

‘Cause I love you the way you are, he doesn’t say.

You think you hear it, anyway.

“I know,” you insist, dragging out the vowel like a sheepish child as you take a hesitant step toward him. “But I wanted to match my boyfriend. He’s a really famous rockstar, you know?”

Eddie tries not to melt at your feet when you close the distance between you. He wouldn’t say performing in front of his friends a handful of drunks makes him famous exactly, but he appreciates the spirit. 

“I did hear that, actually,” he nods sarcastically.

“I even wrote his name on the hem,” you confess vaguely, smoothing your palms over his chest. “’Cause I love him and everything.”

Eddie tilts his chin to his chest, searching for his name on your skirt. “Really?” he wonders aloud, interest visibly piqued. Even more so, when you smile.

“Not there, silly,” you laugh.

His pink mouth forms a pretty ‘o’ shape when realization runs over him like melted honey. “Oh…” he hums, eyes wide and glimmering with intrigue. A funny feeling hits him in his chest and in the confines of his worn jeans. “Well, now I have to see it—”

You slap his hand away when he reaches for your skirt.

“No! You have to wait!” you insist, always so girlishly stubborn.

Eddie’s face scrunches like you’ve physically pained him. “Why?” he whines.

“Because you’ll make us late!” you argue, eyes narrowed with a faux-seriousness. “And I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’, Eddie Munson.”

“I just want a quick peek. That’s all.”

“...Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie nods, eyes wide and sincere, fingers crossed at his side.

You lift the front of your skirt, giving him a proper view of your pretty panties. His eyes fall immediately to his name, written in a sloppy cursive with fading black ink, right beneath the dainty little bow at the center of your underwear. 

Air rushes from his lungs like you’ve punched him in the chest. He goes dizzy with it, too. “Woah…” he mumbles, almost to himself, as his dark eyes glaze over.

“Do you like?” you repeat, more quietly this time, and with an air of subdued mischief. 

You watch his tongue dart slowly across his pink lips. Like he’s more concentrated than he’s ever been in his life. Like you’re a piece of dessert standing before him that he can’t wait to dig his teeth into.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He’s forgotten them all by now. Instead, he just sinks to his knees before you.

When he presses a chaste kiss to where you’ve stitched his name in your panties — then another, where you throb like a heartbeat for him — you realize you wouldn’t mind being late all that much. It was Eddie you got dressed up for, after all. 

[obsessedwithitall]

Can't wait for part 5

Summary: You’re moving into your first apartment after graduating college and you use a moving service your friend recommended. Not really expecting much of the company with a name like “College Hunks Hauling Junk” you take extra care to box your things up really well. But no amount of bubble wrap can keep the cocky, snarky, semi retired frat bro Harry Styles from damaging a few of your boxes which leads to him learning the hard way that sometimes he’s going to have to handle things with a little more care than he’s used to. 📦✨

Pairing: frat!Harry x fem!reader

Trope: Grumpy x sunshine

CW: Frat Harry (some people really aren’t into this lol), language, tiny bit of angst, one drunken moment

Story Type: Mini Series (5 parts)

A/N: This is gonna be a whirlwind of an emotional roller coaster for Harry from the very start so if you’re into that then this is the story for you! ✨

Tag List: Open

Extras: here

Highly Recommended

This Can’t Be Happening

Are You Okay?

Sunshine and Citrus

[obsessedwithitall]

Jesus

the hat rule. (e.m. x fem!reader)

the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.

summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.

wc: 13.3k+

happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.

If someone had told you last week that you’d be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, at Steve Harrington’s apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.

The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Tito’s. 

He’d never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, ‘slutted out’ as Robin had so kindly put it – men included.

Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadn’t even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writer’s costume (you’d hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out – a sensual bunny costume.

And then, there was Eddie.

Eddie fuckin’ Munson. 

“Pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,” he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, “Gonna start catching flies otherwise.” 

“There’s a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?” you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, “Something where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?” 

Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, “Oh, baby, you know me so well.” 

“Cut the pet names, Munson.”

You try to scowl. You really do. But you don’t mean a damn word you say. 

Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume. 

Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest. 

And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion. 

You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this. 

“You don’t mean that,” he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before he’s dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. “Or maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,” Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, “That better, darlin’?” 

You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation. 

“Terrible,” you flatly lie, “Cowboys aren’t even from the south, idiot. They’re from the West.” 

You have no desire to hear Eddie’s Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control. 

It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, won’t they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each other’s orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos – you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.

That’s just how the friendship worked. 

The friendship. 

Friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Eddie won’t leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, “Damn. You’re right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.” 

“Oh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.” 

“Yeah?” he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Why don’t you do it for him? I think I’d like a slap more coming from you, honestly.”

He’s acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you can’t stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesn’t change that. 

You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, “Wanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?” 

“Oh, trust me, you’d never have to do all the work with me, ba-”

“Can you two get a fucking room?” Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for. 

You’re aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly. 

“Sorry, Robs,” Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, “I promise I’ll behave myself the rest of the night.” 

And yet, despite the words you’re hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite. 

There’s no real need for him to do it. There’s plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you – and yet he still fucking does. 

His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, “We’ll both be on our best behavior tonight – right, kitty?” 

Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as he’s looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long. 

Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, “Right, cowboy.”

Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, won’t they of it all. 

It’s about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst. 

—

Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steve’s corset when he complains he can’t breathe (he certainly can, but you’re starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steve’s friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.

You’re not even at the club yet and you’re already regretting your revealing attire.

Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’. 

Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you don’t recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, “Jonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.”

“I concur,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand. 

“You’re also cheating, asshole. This is the first round you’ve lost the entire game.”

“Or maybe I’m just really good at cards, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’m really good at-”

“He’s not cheating,” Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as she’s served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and you’re certainly not going to comment on Robin’s hands toying with her permed locks, “Stop being a sore loser and just strip.” 

You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robin’s head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm. 

“I think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,” she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, “He’d look cuter that way.” 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt. 

When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though. 

The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost – none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as he’d win, time and time again. So far, he’d only lost his boots. 

He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.

And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser? 

Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips. 

“Trying to decide what to take off, Munson?” Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.

You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously. 

You don’t care what Stacy from Steve’s job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it weren’t for Stacy’s all-red, latex Devil costume.

Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, “Obviously. You know, it’s not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.” 

“What? Don’t think you’ll be as pretty without your hat?” you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process. 

The last thing you should do when you’re staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

It’s the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because – yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. You’d spent the last half hour imagining how pretty he’d look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs. 

You’re up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where he’s seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. It’s a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as you’d had a front row seat to the sight of him. 

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. He’s dangerous and he doesn’t even know it, “I only meant you were pretty with the hat.” 

“You wound me,” he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, “Gonna stand there and tell me I’m not pretty when I dressed up just for you?”

You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, “Just for me?” 

He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to – and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You don’t want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you don’t want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, won’t they?

And you want that answer to be will they – terribly, terribly so.

His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, “Okay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, I’d say Robin, but I don’t think she’s looked twice in my direction all night.” 

“I haven’t,” the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her. 

You have no idea how she’s tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you. 

“So,” you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes don’t meet yours, “Not just for me, cowboy.” 

He’s distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though you’ve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.

In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head. 

He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited. 

It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddie’s head. 

“Hey!” he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, “I didn’t say the hat is what I wanted to take off.” 

“Took too long,” you shrug innocently. 

“Yeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.

You should probably behave yourself. 

“No.”

But this is more fun. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, “No?”

“No,” you confirm a second time. 

And you’re done with this game of back and forth. 

The hat’s staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and it’s staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, “Surely you know about the hat rule.” 

Damn right, you know about the hat rule.

You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, “The hat rule? Please, enlighten me.” 

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” 

Perfect. 

You don’t even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when you’d seen him enter this damn party with the hat on. 

“Yeah?” you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, “Hm. What a shame.”

And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.

You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.

Strip poker doesn’t continue on for long after that.

You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates who’s riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction. 

When you meet Eddie’s gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup. 

Good. 

—

The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.

Which is fine. Really. It doesn’t cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one. 

You’re definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that you’ve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. You’re not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead. 

Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you. 

Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets. 

Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy. 

“So,” Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, “Do we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?” 

“Real drinks,” you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, “Shots are… well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.”

Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night? 

He needed his hat. He couldn’t ignore you the entire night. 

“You’re right,” Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have us a round.” 

Nancy’s smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze on her way past her. 

Where the fuck is Eddie? 

“Did you see where the guys ran off to?” you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab. 

Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, “Honestly? I have no idea.” 

Fuck. 

As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head. 

“Trying to find a certain cowboy?” 

“What?” you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? “I mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.” 

“Should have just given him your ears for an even trade,” Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, “I’m sure he’ll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s too focused on what everyone’s costumes are as long as they’re… well…”

“Slutted out,” you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy. 

You fucked up. You shouldn’t have taken his hat. 

“Exactly!” she’s excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, “Look, free shots!” 

The free shots don’t do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.

You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke. 

“You know what they say,” he’s flirting – he’s using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and it’s clear he’s fucking flirting, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steve’s apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.

He’s stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her. 

“If you’re a cowboy,” she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, “Then where’s your hat?” 

Well, that’s as good of a queue for your arrival if any. 

“Good question,” you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, “Where is your hat, cowboy?” 

You’d expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesn’t. 

He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, “Well, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.” 

The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, “I think…. I’m gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”

You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave. 

You’ve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isn’t even phased. 

“Been lookin’ for you,” you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, “Thought you might have gone home without your hat.” 

“Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten about the rule, you know.” 

Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips. 

“No?” you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, “Good thing I haven’t either.” 

He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, “You haven’t? Then that means you’ll be giving it back, right?” 

Over my dead body. 

You’re on a mission tonight. You’ll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or you’ll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. It’s up to him. 

You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, “Not a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once you’re done playing around.”

As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried he’s about to steal the hat back now, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip. 

From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat. 

“I do, don’t I?” he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. “I don’t think I’m the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.” 

Does he think you’re joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you? 

You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were. 

Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. “It’s okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.” 

Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins you’re desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again. 

“I’m not playing,” you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if you’d be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. “Whenever you get that through your big head, come find me.” 

“Big head?” he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. “Who says I have a big head?” 

“I do, as the one wearing your hat,” you readjust it for emphasis. 

You thought the tension had misted away until he’s smirking, tsking a little, “Oh, thought you meant the other one.” 

It’s a replay of the scene in Steve’s apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. You’re the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what he’s just said. 

“Bastard,” you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you. 

A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad. 

—

You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie. 

You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.

A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, you’d catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him. 

You never did. You’d look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished. 

That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head. 

You’re starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. You’d jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you weren’t prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and you’d be reminding him that you wore his hat. 

You’d be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you. 

When the night begins to wane, you’ve already talked yourself out of it all. 

“I’m heading out,” you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where you’ve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, “I’m getting way too tired.” 

“What?” your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, “No! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-”

“Robs,” you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, “It’s seriously okay. You’re having fun! I’m just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was like…. An hour ago.” 

You highly doubt you’ll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadn’t talked yourself out of your perfect plan. 

Maybe, imagining Eddie’s hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises. 

“I…” she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, “Okay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?” 

Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddie’s going to be there.

“Sure,” you lie, already knowing he will be there, “Just text me.” 

With that, you make your grand escape. 

Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy – stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-

“Where do you think you’re going, Kitty?” 

You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously. 

“Home,” you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. You’d figured you wouldn’t see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Smoke break,” he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, “It’s hard work, keeping you entertained all night.” 

You scoff, falling back into what���s almost a normal rhythm for you two, “You were not the one keeping me entertained all night.” 

“I hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.” 

“I did!” you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. “Robin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.” 

“I watched you swat a guy’s hands away not once, but three times.” 

“Unsolicited touching isn’t a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.” 

Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Damn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.” 

“Why do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?” you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, it’s nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but he’s a friend.

And maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Oh, no, yeah. You’d be posting my bail.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’ve got my hat, ” he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldn’t mention it again, “Kind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking of….” 

You already know what he’s about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night – or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.

Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend. 

“I’m gonna need that back, sweetheart.”

At least he’s asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why he’s asking rather than taking. 

The looks across the room. The way he’d been unbothered by the girl he’d been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when he’d been provided ample opportunity. 

He thinks it’s a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isn’t for him. He’s giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this. 

And fuck, you really want this. 

“Nope,” you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. “My hat now, cowboy.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. “Is that so?” 

“Yep.”

Another ding, another buzz of your phone.

Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule. 

“That your ride?” he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car. 

You glance over your shoulder, “Pretty sure it is, yeah.” 

“And you remember the hat rule?” 

Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten – you’re still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt you’ll be slipping anything on after it. “I do.”

“Great,” those hot hands you’d been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “In that case, that’s my pussy now.” 

His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere you’ve only dreamt of. 

You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride – you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling. 

“After you, kitty,” he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first. 

In that case, that’s my pussy now.

You hope he ruins you. 

In the backseat of the ride, it’s all polite distance and hands to yourself. You can’t even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head. 

Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips. 

Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out. 

Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him. 

Eddie simply fucking your brains out. 

Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly. 

The entire time, you can see Eddie’s hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you. 

It’s a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat. 

Slowly warming the water, you start off simple – playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here. 

You’ve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. You’re going to have fun with it. 

He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull you’ve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold it’s going to feel against your skin. 

You can only imagine the imprints it’ll leave if he grabs your hips just right. 

“You know,” the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, “You guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think it’s just barely picking up now.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, “I think you’re right. It is getting pretty late-”

He’s entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target. 

His thigh. 

Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction. 

You’re looking straight ahead. 

There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where you’d learned Eddie had… sensitive knees. You’d been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, he’d nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.

You’d seen the tent in his jeans then. You’d just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but you’re quick to slide it even higher. 

His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser. 

“Nothing,” you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. “Absolutely nothing at all.” 

The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher. 

And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.

By the time you’re five minutes out from your place, you’ve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know he’s catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips – you’re pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up. 

You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather. 

And then he flips the script. 

You’re so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. It’s not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament you’ve gotten into. 

Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddie’s hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear. 

Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely. 

“What?” he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench. 

You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Still playing games I see.” 

In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when he’s this close, it’s a hopeless battle.

When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when you’d first crawled into the backseat?

You’re trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. It’s all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up. 

He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and you’re the one coughing now. 

“Had enough?” he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them. 

“Never.”

You almost think you’ve won when his knuckle pulls back. 

But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles. 

You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh. 

The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, “You sure about that, Kitty?” 

You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment. 

“I-”

“We’re here!” the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. You’re both visibly flustered – you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddie’s chest and neck. 

“Thanks,” Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open. 

A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before he’s grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him. 

You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it. 

He doesn’t let go of you until you’re at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring. 

“Here, let me-” he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one you’re looking for. 

“I’ve got it-” you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. “Shit.” 

You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. There’s no real reason for you to do it, but you do – you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.

Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much he’s been biting them. 

You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your building’s hallway. 

You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides – the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a stranger’s car. 

“Like what?” you’re dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him. 

“Like you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.” 

That’s a new one. That’s a vision that hadn’t come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night. 

It sends your clit throbbing. 

You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors won’t hear as you ask, “Would you? If I asked nicely?” 

He doesn’t let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like you’ve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs. 

No need to say it – you know he would. You probably wouldn’t even have to ask nicely. 

You’re staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you – where he needs you. 

One second, you’re pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, he’s managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment. 

Hidden from the world, and you’re still reeling as you wonder what it’d be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name. 

Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, “Sweetheart.”

A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front door’s lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe – but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only. 

Your body isn’t your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesn’t even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddie’s pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands can’t undo it fast enough. You’re about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you. 

“Hey,” he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.”

Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and you’re quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy – right?” you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his. 

His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. “That’s right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?” 

Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off? 

Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours. 

And - oh.

Oh. 

That surely didn’t feel like you were scaring him off. 

You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived. 

He wants this. You want him. 

“I’m not a very patient person,” you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where he’d held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth. 

His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey. 

“That’s okay,” he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, “I can teach you, baby.”

Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words. 

You’ve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, you’d wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time he’d pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, you’d wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette you’d witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didn’t want to find funny but did – you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face. 

“Can’t the lesson wait until tomorrow?” you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths. 

“Nope,” he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, “But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about tomorrow.” 

A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth – it’s a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesn’t feel very patient. 

But you can’t. Eddie’s taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards. 

Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest. 

He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later. 

“Figured you might want a more comfortable ride,” he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.

You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasn’t the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along. 

You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience. 

His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and you’re growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really don’t care. 

“By all means,” you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, “Take your seat, Cowboy.” 

He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants. 

The best seat in the house, as far as you’re concerned. 

“You just gonna keep starin’,” he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, “Or you gonna get over here?” 

His words are all you need. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels – the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right. 

“There,” he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, “Now we’re both in our seats.” 

When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.

“What happened to being patient?” you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, “Thought you were gonna take your time with me-”

“Between you and me, I’m not gonna last,” he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings you’d been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, “Been dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.” 

Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you. 

“What?” 

Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He’s wanted this, too? This entire time? 

Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, “I mean- I just-”

“Munson,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re telling me, this entire time, you’ve been flirting with me?” 

Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as you’d thought, or simple for show? You’d so cluelessly assumed he’d never used that tone with you because he’d never genuinely flirted with you – and yet, it seems, he’d never used that tone because he’d been genuinely flirting with you. 

“I-” his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, “Maybe?” 

“Maybe?” you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, “My God, we’re fucking idiots.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who stole my hat-”

“I like you, dumb ass,” you state plainly, “I wanted this for a while, too.” 

He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, “What?” 

“Been thinking about this, too,” your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way he’s looking at you, “Thinking about you and your lips. Thinking ‘bout your hands and the places they’d go,” as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, “Thought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good they’d feel inside me.” 

His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, he’s placing his hat back atop your head. 

That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed. 

He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress. 

“Nice and slow,” he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. “Got it, kitty?” 

You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss. 

Your dress is up to your waist, and you don’t know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. It’s impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. He’d probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared. 

“Oh, and these?” his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, “Those definitely have to come off.” 

“Whatever you say, cowboy.” 

You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence. 

He’s fucking perfect. You’re sure there’s others who disagree, but you’d pay them no mind. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours. 

You make a show of taking off your panties only once he’s properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience he’d prattled on about. 

You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them. 

“Seems a bit unfair that I’m the only one undressing,” you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.

“Yeah, well,” he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, “One of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.”

“Take off the vest, Eddie.” 

Your command is velvet, and he’s quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor. 

“And the boxers.” 

You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does. 

The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color you’ve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of  precum slip down his shaft. 

He’s pretty, even in the fucking pants. 

Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before you’ve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that you’d trace your tongue over for hours if he let you. 

“Gonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?” 

He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare. 

He’s right though, and you’d rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission. 

Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind. 

You could have prepared yourself more, but you’d already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive. 

The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Feel good, baby?” he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out. 

You don’t answer him as you both moan out. 

You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly. 

It’s better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddie’s cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his. 

“Go ahead,” he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, “Ride your cowboy, kitty. Don’t make me ask twice.” 

Nice. And. Slow.

Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. You’re about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you. 

“No, no, no,” he’s chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, “C’mon, now. We both know that’s not how you ride.” 

His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips. 

“Do it like this, sweetheart.”

He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern. 

Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly. 

The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull. 

This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but it’s getting you there. 

At some point, Eddie’s grip on your hips slips, but it’s fine – you’ve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat. 

You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head. 

Just like a cowboy. 

“Like this?” you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, “Just like that. Keep- keep going just,” he thrusts up, “Like,” another thrust, “That.” 

You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. There’s a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .

A hand on your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he won’t. 

“You like that?” his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck. 

You nod.

“Tell me with your words,” he commands.

“I like it,” you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. “I like it so much, baby.” 

When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath. 

“You like that,” you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. “Wanna be my baby, Munson?” 

“Always have,” he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, “Since the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.

It was serious. And if you’d just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago. 

Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. You’ve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and it’s your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it – his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you. 

You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory. 

Your touch is driving him insane; it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you. 

It’s when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that he’s finally a goner. 

“‘M close,” he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, Eddie.” 

Maybe it’s the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue. 

Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, he’s beautiful. 

Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips. 

Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude – a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when it’s said in Eddie’s desperate tone. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, “Shit.”

You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, “Sounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.” 

His eyes shoot open, and for a second, you’re terrified.

Those aren’t the eyes of someone satisfied. 

“You didn’t cum.”

“What?”

“You,” he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You don’t miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, “Did not cum.” 

You hadn’t really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. You’d been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips. 

“It’s fine,” you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you aren’t. “I can-”

“You’re not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.” 

And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasn’t racing as far away from you as you’d believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him. 

“Get on all fours for me, baby.” 

Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.

When you don’t move to follow his command immediately, he’s using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how you’re reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.

You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but you’re cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass. 

A silent command this time, and you’re finally listening. 

You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when- 

“I’ll be taking that,” For the first time since you’d stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, he’s smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, “You can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.”

“At least once?” you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak. 

He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass – right where an imprint of his hand still sings, “At least. By all means, if you feel the need, don’t hesitate to give me a few. God knows you’ve earned it.” 

You don’t have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt. 

Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously. 

“Oh, God,” you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.

He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.

“Don’t be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.” 

And let him hear you, you do. 

Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, you’re chanting his name. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, “Your fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.” 

Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, “Say my name again.” 

You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more. 

More, more, more. 

There’s nothing nice and slow about this. You’re chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way. 

Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises. 

You really, really don’t give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap. 

Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until he’s flipping you back over. 

You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge – lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears. 

You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs. 

He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, it’s all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him. 

The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddie’s back, almost effectively trapping him in place.

You cum hard for him. 

You’re entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows who’s responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.

He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until you’re physically having to shove him away. 

Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body. 

“There,” you don’t even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction – his voice is dripping in it. “Now you can keep the hat.” 

One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all. 

“I’m not sure I’ve earned it,” you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, “Pretty sure I didn’t break you when I made you cum.”

“Oh, you did,” he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, “Just in a different way.” 

You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though he’s scared you might disappear. 

“Well,” you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, “Good.” 

Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Give me a few minutes to recover,” you insist, all but nuzzling into him, “I’m sure I’ll have a smartass comeback for you once I’m…” you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air. 

The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.

All the things you’ve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality. 

He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

“Am not,” you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content. 

“Am too,” he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, “It’s okay. You can. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, “Promise, cowboy?” 

“Absolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?” 

You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world. 

Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddie’s breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table. 

Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.

[obsessedwithitall]

rub one out┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

a cheeky (pun intended) bit of filth based on part of my blurb series. I was trying to keep the snippets short, but this just kinda poured out of me over the past couple days.

cw: sex work, simulated adultery, oral (fem receiving)

18+, MDNI┃2.8k

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You couldn’t escape the nagging thought as you stepped outside, tightening the belt on your fluffy white bathrobe, tugging at the terrycloth tail and twisting it in your fingers. Your eyes flitted to each member of your crew, all of them in position waiting to get this show on the road.

Why were you so nervous? You’d certainly done this enough times before not to get stage fright. So why did your stomach feel more tangled than the box of electrical cords in Lenny’s truck?

Part of you almost wished it would rain, or the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you didn’t have to go through with this. But the concrete remained solid under your feet, and the sky overhead showed no signs of altering its radiant blue color. Perfect.

It’s gonna be fine, you thought in an attempt to soothe yourself. It’s all gonna be fine.

And you almost believed it would be.

Sammy, who was barely a step up from an intern, had swiftly been promoted once the plan for you to replace your no-show leading lady was set in motion. You weren’t worried about her, though—she was smart and a quick study; she knew all the shots you needed, and she had a good eye.

If you couldn’t be behind the camera yourself, she was pretty much the only one you trusted.

Well…maybe not the only one.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as soon as you stepped out of the trailer. The sunlight hit his deep brown irises, making them glow the color of rich honey. But behind the liquid gold, you could see his own nerves and it made your stomach flip, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he came up next to you. “You good?”

For a moment, you considered lying. Flashing him a thumbs up or shooting him finger guns like one of those tools you used to do this with. But you knew better by now when it came to Eddie.

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I’m kinda shitting myself.”

“Well, that’s just what the guy about to fuck you wants to hear,” he chuckled back.

A real smile breaks through your tense, fake one and a genuine laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine when he hears it and the sight makes your chest feel all warm inside.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “I’m okay, I just…don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

His plush pink lips pressed into a straight line, his tongue poking out as he licked them. He reached out a reassuring hand and placed it on your shoulder, rubbing it through your robe.

“You’re gonna be great,” he assured, sounding a lot more certain than you felt.

Easy for him to say. He’s a fucking natural.

Even on your best day doing this, you never felt like you were great at it—competent, sure. Maybe even above average. But not great. Not at all the way you felt since getting behind the camera.

You nodded tightly, your hesitation still written all over your face. His eyes scanned over you and he swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. He then leaned in and placed his lips beside your ear.

“You look…really beautiful,” he said.

His warm breath rushed across your neck, the heat coming off his skin making your ears buzz. An explosion of fluttering began in your stomach, like there were butterfly cocoons in your cereal that morning and now they were all hatching.

“We should get moving,” you said, pulling back. “Burning daylight.”

Eddie straightened. He nodded and you nodded back, sliding past him to do final checks before you started rolling. Telling yourself he must have pumped or popped a Viagra to explain away that bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before he came over to talk to you.

The nerves didn’t disappear once you started working, but your body and brain did snap into a kind of performance mode you remembered well.

You started with some still photography for the VHS box art—shots of you in progressing states of undress, your robe dropping off your shoulder, Eddie pulling it open to reveal your body, his hand running up your thigh in a slow caress.

He let it trail all the way up your stomach and chest until he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your face toward his, letting his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced, thinking he might close the gap and actually kiss you—

But after the shutter snapped, he simply let his hand drop and backed away. 

The loss of his body heat sent a chill down your spine and you shivered despite the blazing sun overhead. Eddie’s eyes caught yours, the nearly imperceptible lift of his brow asking, ‘you okay?’ You nodded and another shiver skittered across your skin as you pulled your robe back up.

For the next shot, you climbed up on the massage table and he got into position behind you. His body pressed yours down, your back arching under him as he dipped his head low to take the lobe of your ear between his teeth, palming your exposed breast with his large, strong hand. 

You let your mouth hang open, not even needing to fake the look of desperation on your face. And let yourself believe Eddie’s excitement you could feel digging into the fat of your ass was real too. The little grunts and whines he let out when you wriggled against him certainly didn’t sound fake.

After the photos, there was nothing left to do but move on to the main event. 

You and Eddie reset—him standing in frame, you just outside of it. Sammy panned the camera around, establishing the setting, zooming in on the fountain feature in the pool and then coming around to film Eddie as he snapped a fresh towel and laid it out on the massage table.

From your spot off-camera, it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the sight. Biceps rippling, tendons in his arms flexing as he smoothed the towel flat. His tattoos stood out even more than normal with him in white slacks and a white polo meant to give the impression of him being an employee of the resort. And the little twist your hair and make-up girl Jael did is something new that only further accentuates the thick column of his neck and his angular jaw.

He’d left off his rings and bracelets, as was typical when he was filming, and you couldn’t help but think about that day in the editing suite. When he’d touched your knee, and you felt the silver ridges press into your flesh. It had jarred you somewhat, how right it felt to have his hand there and how you’d nearly leaned in to meet his lips when you saw his face getting closer.

You hadn’t kissed him that day—promptly removing yourself from temptation in an attempt to salvage some shred of your professionalism. And you (mostly) felt good about that decision. It would have been reckless and destructive and your entire working relationship might have been compromised. You’d made the right call that day, you were sure of it. Mostly…

But today was different. Today, it wasn’t going to derail your career. If anything, your career was mandating you give in to those urges that had plagued you so relentlessly. And that was when it hit you all at once—the realization about as subtle as a train crashing through a wall.

You were going to fuck Eddie.

You’re going to feel firsthand what it’s like to have his face and cock buried between your legs; what it’s like to suck on his fingers and soak them with your spit before he presses them to your clit; what he sounds like when he comes all over your stomach or tits (you can’t quite recall what the script specifies, you just know it’s meant to be outside so he can dotingly clean you up after). 

The barrage of thoughts that storm through your mind are so consuming, you nearly miss your cue to enter the scene. But once you do, you’re rather grateful for the distraction of the set-up dialogue:

“It’ll just be me, today. My husband has a meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault. I got it as a surprise for our anniversary—I should have known better than to book it without checking his schedule.”

“I’m afraid I never know how much to take off for a massage…what do you suggest?”

Eddie answered your last question with a smooth, “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” and a smile so warm it would melt the ice caps.

Giving him a smile of your own, you slowly pulled at the tie of your robe. It fell to the ground in a heap at your feet and Eddie’s dark eyes roved over you hungrily. Now revealed to be completely naked, you feigned some degree of shyness: ducking your head low, looking up at him from underneath your lashes, brushing your hand over your stomach as though to hide it while really drawing his eyes to its plush softness.

“Is this alright?” you asked him with a coy smirk. Eddie grinned, still drinking you in.

“Absolutely,” he breathed. And the raptness in his eyes almost had you believing him.

You took your time getting up on the table, propping yourself up on all fours, letting him (and the camera) take a good, long look at the fullness of your hips before you settled in place. Arms at your side, you took a deep breath as you laid flat on your stomach, relieved there wouldn’t be much dialogue needed for this next part.

Through the little donut headrest at the end of the table, you saw Sammy’s feet as she moved in close—filming tight on Eddie’s hands while he pumped massage oil onto them and warmed it by spreading it between his palms.

Your chest tightened, nerves coiling in your stomach as you anticipated his touch, forcing your body to keep still so you didn’t pull focus.

He smoothed some oil over your skin, starting at the ankles and thoroughly coating your calves. The smell of clary sage filled the air, earthy and warm. And underneath it, a clean and woodsy scent you recognized as Eddie’s soap wafted up to your nose when he leaned in closer.

His fingertips began to knead your muscles, slipping and sliding easily over your skin that was slick with the oil. He made tiny circles with his thumbs, alternating back and forth as they moved in a steady pattern up your calf.

Oh, that’s right…

In all the hubbub, you’d forgotten the whole concept for this shoot was borne on the fact that Eddie went to massage school for real. He’d told you before, after he left his hometown (shit, what was it again? Hawk-something…) that he started collecting different jobs like merit badges.

Just bounced from thing to thing, trying his hand (sometimes both) at whatever life presented. And that included porn. He’d said he only auditioned for that first film he did because someone he’d slept with a handful of times knew a casting director and suggested he’d be good at it.

“He certainly had the dick for it” were her exact words, if you recalled. Strange to think in a way, you might owe that girl your career.

Through the pleasurable haze your mind dipped into having Eddie’s capable hands erasing every ounce of stress you carried in your muscles, you realized he was moving the scene right along while you just lay there humming and moaning with relief at his practiced touch.

He’d lowered his voice to that deep, rumbly register he always used when he was building towards the next phase. His DM voice, as he so affectionately dubbed it. Rough and gravely, yet even and tempered, guiding both you and the audience along on the journey of this fuck.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying…but your husband’s a jackass for missings out on this.”

Your heartbeat picked up in your chest as he moved to your thighs. His fingertips dug into your flesh, kneading it like dough, letting his thumbs swerve dangerously close to your center.

“You deserve someone who puts you first…who knows what he has and worships you…”

One of his thumbs swiped briefly over your puffy lips, and you knew he felt how wet you were.

“You know, I’d never let you out of my sight if you were mine…”

His words dripped slowly and intentionally past his lips, his hands creeping higher and higher up your legs. At last, they slid over the globes of your ass and he groaned as he squeezed one in each hand, spreading you apart to see your center, soaked with arousal that had been pooling there, truth be told, from the moment Eddie had told you how beautiful you looked. 

You heard Eddie’s next line in your head before he said it, “If you really want to relax, I can try a very special technique. I don’t do it for just anyone. It’s a little bit…unorthodox…”

And you were more than ready to take him up on his offer once he delivered the line. 

But Eddie went off script.

Instead of hearing words, you felt the wet heat of his tongue glide through your folds as he buried his face between your spread ass cheeks. Your head popped out of the headrest, letting out a breathy moan of surprise and delight.

The shock on your face was evident as Sammy pushed in close to capture your expression, but so was your pure and utter elation. You’d never felt anything so good in your life…

And it seemed you weren’t the only one.

Eddie groaned loudly as he lapped messily at your folds, his spit mixing with your slick that covered the bottom half of his face. And it was only after a few blissful seconds of eager licking that he even realize what he’d done.

“I’m—mmph—sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” He panted out in between sinful swirls of his tongue, his he words muffled by your ass cheeks because he couldn’t stand to pull away even a little, even long enough to speak. “I had to taste you…”

”It’s okay,” you answered, voice already wrecked beyond belief. “It’s okay, just keep going—”

The command is directed at him as much as it is the crew, who only panicked slightly. Eddie never did stuff like this and they just weren’t ready.

They got back on track quickly enough, Sammy signaling the boom mic to get as close as he can without dipping into frame in order to pick up every lurid slurp and suck of Eddie’s mouth.

After no more than a few minutes, the fluffy towel under you was bunched in your fists and your hips squirmed as Eddie continued to eat you out like a mad man. His tight grip on your ass cheeks held fast, spreading you wider still so his tongue could probe deeper. The sounds he pulled out of you didn’t even sound human to your ears, let alone recognizable as your own voice. 

But you didn’t care.

However you sounded, however you looked, it was superfluous to what Eddie was doing and the precipice he brought you to. Your orgasm hit harder than any drug, than any physical blow. It had you shaking uncontrollably, reaching back to grip the hair at the crown of his head as your hips pushed back to meet every thrust of his tongue while you rode out your exceptional high.

You felt its tingling sensation spread to every inconsequential inch of your body, like an ocean of fire that crashed over you in wave after wave of scorching pleasure. Drowning you in it.

When you finally found the strength in your limp limbs to roll over onto your back, Eddie’s eyes were waiting to meet yours. You could see on his face how sorry he was, how worried he was he’d fucked up. And you tried to communicate with him in that mind-melding, wordless sort of way you and he always did that it was fine—that people were going to love it.

Cocking your brow at him, dipping into a more salacious tone to really sell the transformation from demure housewife to lusty adulterer, you threw in a little adlib of your own.

“That’s some technique you’ve got there,” you teased him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “My husband’s certainly never done that before.”

Eddie’s sly smile returned, his lips curling as he reached out to grip your waist. He hauled you closer with one jerk, bringing you to the edge of the table so your hips were flush with his. The bulge in his white pants was harder than ever when it pressed against your cunt, and he grinned wickedly when he felt just how ready you were for more. He yanked up the shirttail of his polo and whipped it off his body, tossing it behind him where it landed half in the pool.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Tysm for reading! 🛸 comments and reblogs keep your skin clear and your crops watered 🫶🏻

[obsessedwithitall]

MS. DECEMBER | Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Librarian!Reader

When you get a once in a lifetime opportunity to pose for a racy photo shoot your best friend struggles to come to terms with your increased exposure.

WC: ~6.9k

Warnings: light angst, insecurity/poor self-image, mention of pornography, mutual pining, jealousy, possessive behavior, alcohol, sexism, swearing, smut, perv!Eddie, voyeurism, m!masturbation, brief f!masturbation, oral f!receiving, piv sex (wrap it up irl), dirty talk, Eddie has a corruption kink, friends to lovers, everyone is 21+ 18+ ONLY MDNI

Special thanks to @madelynraemunson for sending me her smutty brainwaves. Also thanks to @rebelfell and @mugloversonly for suggesting the magazine title 🖤

“So you think it’s a bad idea?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and leaned back against the firm leather of the booth, narrowing your eyes to study your best friend’s clouded expression.

The bar where you’d arranged to meet up for drinks was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday evening, and the background hum of the happy-hour crowd filled the silence while you waited for his response.

Eddie looked down at his beer bottle and started to pick at the label with his thumb, its silver foil edges the sudden sole focus of his attention.

“Nah, I think you should go for it.”

The muted overhead lighting brought out the warm amber flecks in his otherwise stormy eyes as he lifted them to meet yours for just a moment before returning his gaze to the table.

Unconvinced, you tilted your head. “Really? You think I can pull it off?”

He nodded and you could see the hint of a dimpled grin soften his features.

“Totally. You’re gonna look amazing.”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, his eyes shot up to meet yours with visible panic; frizzy curls brushing the tops of his shoulders as he gave a frustrated shake of his head.

“Shit. No, I just— you’ll do a good job, that’s all.”

A rosy hue kissed the tops of his cheeks as he continued to sputter out half-formed excuses, trying to navigate the minefield he’d wandered into courtesy of his thoughtless tongue.

You bit down on your straw to fight back the giggles that threatened to bubble up while you watched him squirm, but you only let him suffer for a few moments before you interrupted his nervous stammering.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know what you meant.”

You couldn’t blame your friend for being a bit out of sorts. After all, you had just informed him that you’d been selected to pose in Stripped, a popular men’s magazine that was doing a special feature on “Sexy Librarians of the World” — something that he had rightfully pointed out was completely out of character for you.

Knowing how keyed up Eddie could get about things, you’d waited until after the waitress dropped off your drinks to mention the shoot, in hopes that the beverages might help take the edge off delivering the news.

At first Eddie had treated your announcement with his usual brand of skepticism, waiting for you to burst out laughing and confess that it was all just a silly joke. Once he realized you were serious, he’d taken a large swig of his beer and nearly choked as it burned a bitter path down the back of his throat.

A few weeks earlier, you had confided in him that you felt like you were too boring and that you wanted to try and break out of your shell.

“It’s like everyone just thinks of me as this perfect, uptight goody-two-shoes,” you had complained. “But deep down I’m so much more than that.”

Eddie didn’t find you boring in the slightest but he knew a thing or two about being pigeonholed, and had encouraged you to branch out and try new things.

“Maybe you just need to try something new. Push your limits a bit, ya know?”

At the time Eddie had been thinking along the lines of experimenting with new foods or switching up your hairstyle, but after hearing your news he realized he may have underestimated just how daring those new things might be.

“I mean, it does sound interesting.” You shrugged. “They want to feature professional women with different looks and body types, and they said it’ll be tasteful. I don’t know…I feel like I might regret not doing it when I’m older. You only live once, right?”

Eddie nodded, his guts twisting with each second he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you were going to pose in a magazine that he’d been reading for years for the articles. A publication where everyone, including him, would be able to see you wearing next to nothing — not that he planned to look at your pictures, of course. That would be weird.

“As long as it’s something you want to do and you don’t think it’s sexist or whatever,” he mumbled, and you arched an eyebrow as you took another sip of your fruity drink.

“Don’t you read Stripped? I mean, you can’t think it’s all that bad?” You bit back a grin as he looked up at you helplessly.

“Yeah, but that’s different. Those girls…they aren’t you.”

You rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to call your best friend a hypocrite, even though he was being a giant one in your opinion. Still, his reaction to the news had been a lot milder than you’d expected so you decided to let it go.

Besides, you needed a favor.

“They booked the shoot for this Thursday afternoon. If you’re free, I was hoping you might come with me?”

“With you?” Eddie repeated, his brain suddenly running on autopilot. It was one thing for you to do a racy photo shoot but quite another for him to be there and witness it in the flesh.

For a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like watching from the sidelines of the set as you contorted your scantily clad body into the kind of provocative poses he’d seen in his issues of Stripped.

“Not to, like, watch or anything,” you rushed to add with a quick shake of your head. “I’m just a little nervous and it would be nice to have a friend there for moral support. Will you come, please?”

As you smiled and fluttered your lashes Eddie could feel himself starting to cave, well aware that it was pointless to try and resist you when you wanted something.

He tried to think up a good excuse as to why he couldn’t go with you that afternoon, but your pleading eyes melted the words on his tongue before he could speak them out loud.

Defeated, he took another large mouthful of beer, swallowing down the bitter hops along with his misgivings, then reluctantly agreed to accompany you to the shoot.

When it came down to it, Eddie Munson was a simple man.

He loved heavy metal, beer and D&D. He loved performing with his band and spending time with his friends. He also loved you — probably the worst kept secret in history as far as he was concerned, but a fact of which you seemed blissfully unaware.

Eddie and his bandmates had moved to the city a few years earlier in pursuit of a music career and things had been going pretty well for the men of Corroded Coffin. They’d booked enough regular gigs at the rock clubs downtown to allow Eddie to keep a part time day job, leaving him free to spend the rest of his time on his music. Well, his music and you.

You’d met Eddie when the library where you worked advertised for volunteers to help with its new youth D&D sessions. After seeing the flyers on his walks around the neighborhood, he’d stopped in to get more information.

“This is a really great idea,” he’d said when you had described how things would work. “I wish they’d had something like this back when I was a kid.”

It turned out that Eddie was great with the children and a very enthusiastic volunteer — so enthusiastic that he started to drop by the library several times a week to help out with some of the other programs you had on the go.

After spending so much time together you soon became good friends and eventually he suggested that you come to one of Corroded Coffin’s shows.

“But it’s okay if you don’t want to, I get that it’s probably not your thing.”

“What? Not all of us librarians are sheltered squares.” You’d laughed, but when you looked down at your frumpy outfit and sensible shoes you couldn’t exactly blame him for making that assumption.

You were reserved in how you dressed and you supposed you could come off a bit quiet and shy, but deep down you wished you could be more free-spirited like your new friend. You loved Eddie’s rock n’ roll style and envied how he didn’t seem to care what anyone thought — something you admittedly worried about way too much.

You’d always been the good girl — the responsible one who followed all the rules. But ever since meeting Eddie you’d felt like there might be more to life.

When a small crush on the metalhead had started to take root, you’d squashed it before it had a chance to bloom. You knew a guy like Eddie would be looking for someone much more fun and flashy than you, and there was no point in getting your hopes up just for them to be dashed.

You’d gone to a few Corroded Coffin shows by then and seen the kinds of girls who danced up front, the pretty ones Eddie smiled down at from the stage while he shredded his guitar.

Afterwards you’d watch them fall all over him, giggling as they wrapped their arms around his waist, and you’d make up an excuse to leave early to avoid the unwanted sight.

Compared to those girls you were so boring, it was no wonder Eddie only saw you as a friend — a thought that as much as you tried to ignore it, continued to eat away at you.

When the letter from Stripped had arrived at the library, your co-worker Muriel had scoffed as soon as she opened it.

“Can you believe this? They want people to pose in their skivvies for everyone to see. Disgusting.”

She’d held up the offending piece of paper, then gasped as you snatched it out of her hands and eagerly poured over the typewritten words on the page. A photo shoot featuring regular women who wanted a chance to show they were desirable? It was just the type of thing you’d been looking for in your effort to try something new and daring.

It was a sign.

When you got home from work that evening, you’d dialed the number provided in the letter and had been given direction on how to complete the Stripped audition process.

Weeks later when you got the call back that you’d been selected for the feature, you had debated for a few moments before giving them your answer. As you twisted the phone cord in your hand, you reminded yourself that the photo shoot was just the thing you needed to increase your confidence and get you out of your rut.

After you told them you would do it, you hung up the phone with a satisfied smile as nervous excitement fluttered in your chest.

You were going to prove everyone wrong.

You could be wild. You could be daring. You could be anything in the whole world that you wanted — and maybe someday you would even be the type of person that Eddie Munson could love.

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had been taken with you ever since the very first moment he saw you, that he adored you just the way you were. Your quirky personality and the soft way you looked at him. Your sweet voice and beautiful smile. Your body — the thoughts of which occupied a sizeable portion of his brain.

He thought every single part of you was perfection.

The two of you spent so much time together that after a while the guys in his band started to give him a hard time, calling you his wife to try and get under his skin. Even though he always told them to fuck off in no uncertain terms, he secretly liked it and hoped that someday it might be true.

Eddie had never done the relationship thing before and with you he wanted to do things right, but the thought of putting himself out there was a slightly terrifying prospect.

Until he worked up the courage to tell you, he resolved to be your loyal and supportive best friend. But as he listened to you talk about the photo shoot, he supposed he could do a bit better on the whole supportive part.

He could tell that you were nervous and he wanted to reassure you, it was just going to take some time for him to adjust to the idea.

On the afternoon of the photo shoot you walked with Eddie into the unassuming gray office building that housed Stripped corporate headquarters on the North end of the city.

The lobby was modern and plainly decorated, with white polished floors and a few sparse fake plants — not at all what you had expected for that type of wild publication.

Throughout the lobby there were several large framed Stripped covers hanging on display, and as you gazed up at the glamorous models you could hardly believe that soon you’d be amongst their ranks.

You had been told by the woman on the phone to head to the fourth floor when you arrived, so you took a deep breath and stepped into the waiting elevator. When it started its ascent you reached for the comfort of Eddie’s hand and he gave yours a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb over your clenched knuckles.

“You okay?” He leaned in close to whisper next to your ear. “You don’t have to go through with it if you’ve changed your mind.”

You took another deep breath and set your shoulders, giving him your most determined smile.

“It’s now or never, right?”

The elevator doors opened with a soft ping and you stepped out, still holding on tight to Eddie’s hand. There was a long reception desk along the far wall and a pleasant-looking woman smiled up at you from behind her computer as you approached.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here for the librarian photo shoot?” you answered, cursing the nervous inflection of your voice.

The woman nodded and took your name then handed you some forms you’d need to sign.

“Take those with you and go down that hallway until you get to room 4B. That’s where they’ll be doing your wardrobe and makeup.” She pointed towards the corridor to her right.

As Eddie moved to walk with you, the lady gently cleared her throat and gestured to the white leather seats in the waiting area behind you.

“It’s a closed set today. Your boyfriend will have to wait here in the lobby.”

You giggled and quickly let go of Eddie’s hand, patting his leather-clad arm in amusement.

“Oh, no. He’s just my friend.”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably as the woman shot him a sly smile before returning her attention to her work, chuckling quietly to herself.

“I’ll see you when you’re finished,” Eddie called out to your back as you turned to head down the long hallway.

Left alone, he felt around in his jacket to find his pack of smokes. He suddenly needed a cigarette. Badly.

The shoot went remarkably well, and on the drive home Eddie was quiet as you filled him in on all of the details, your voice spilling over with poorly contained excitement.

“They made me feel so comfortable and they even let me keep the outfit as a souvenir. Not that there was very much to it.” You giggled, looking over at your friend who continued to stare straight ahead at the road.

Eddie’s silence was unusual and you wondered if maybe he was annoyed that he’d had to wait around so long for you to finish. Between hair, makeup and wardrobe the shoot had ended up taking hours.

“They said the pictures should be ready for the December issue. Can you believe it?” You leaned your head back against the leather headrest and hummed with contentment as the van rumbled down the dark city streets.

Just in time for the holidays, Eddie thought sarcastically as he pulled into your parking lot. At least that would give him a few more months to get used to the idea.

A few months later

The bell over the door of the corner store chimed as Eddie stepped inside out of the cold. Behind him, tiny flakes danced in the frosty evening air and a light dusting of snow peppered his hair and jacket.

“How’s it going Phil?” Eddie greeted the ancient and seemingly ever-present clerk. Phil gave him a quick nod of familiarity before turning to grab a pack of Eddie’s brand of cigarettes from the wall behind the counter — one of the perks of being a regular customer.

Eddie was in good spirits after having spent the evening with some friends who were visiting the city for the holidays. So good, that he even found himself humming along to the staticky Christmas music that drifted from the radio Phil had stashed behind the counter.

On his way to grab some snacks, Eddie paused at the wire newsrack stuffed full with the usual array of trashy tabloids, rock features and poorly concealed nudie mags hidden in the back.

Just as he was about to continue on his way, something tucked behind a copy of Guitar World caught his eye and practically knocked the air out of his lungs. You.

“Holy shit.” He did a quick double take, not quite believing his eyes. You had told him that your issue was coming out soon but you had neglected to tell him that you were going to be on the cover.

Eddie stared like he was caught in a trance, hypnotized by a pair of familiar eyes that gazed back at him from the page with what could only be mistaken for desire — your parted, pouty lips painted a deep blood red that made his mouth suddenly feel much too dry.

He picked up the issue only to find that the rest of the cover was concealed by a plastic liner to protect the pages from prying, non-paying eyes.

A few seconds later the bell over the door chimed and a pair of young men walked in, their brash voices a jarring contrast to the previous quiet of the shop. As they loudly made their way past Eddie, he could smell that they had definitely just partaken in some liquid holiday cheer.

“Oh shit, is that the new Stripped? Man, I’d like to stuff her stocking,” one of the men quipped over Eddie’s shoulder before continuing to follow his friend to the back of the store.

The sour scent of stale whiskey filled Eddie’s nostrils as he tightened his grip on the magazine — the thought of that guy buying your issue filling him with a sudden, scorching rage.

There were four other copies of Stripped left in the rack and before he knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed every last one and marched over to plunk them down onto the counter alongside his smokes.

Phil surveyed the stack of magazines with a slight raise of his eyebrows, but silently rang them up and handed Eddie his change.

Eddie grabbed the paper bag containing his precious cargo and quickly made his way back out onto the street, his cheeks burning against the cold night air.

As he walked the familiar path towards home, he pondered what exactly he planned to do with his impulse purchase. Should he just throw them away? He definitely couldn’t look at them, that was for sure.

He didn’t want to admit how many times you crossed his mind on sleepless nights, a common occurrence when he was restless and alone. And he definitely didn’t want to think about how often he desperately stroked his cock to the image of you naked and writhing in pleasure beneath his touch.

Those thoughts had only ever been a fantasy, just secret pictures in his mind. Now that the opportunity to really see you was at his fingertips, it didn’t feel quite right.

He walked into his building in a daze, barely aware of his surroundings until the ding of the elevator arriving at his floor snapped him out of his trance.

Once inside his apartment, he headed straight into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter alongside his keys. He shrugged off his jacket onto a nearby stool and then stood staring at the bag, unsure of what to do.

There was a new song that he’d been working on where he hadn’t quite nailed the solo and there were still some details left to perfect in his latest D&D campaign. Laundry, television, organizing his record collection, heck, even conditioning his hair — there were so many, many things that he could do to occupy his time.

But twenty minutes later Eddie paced his tiny kitchen like an animal trapped in a cage, the ever-looming magazines burning a hole through his resolve.

The arguments proposed by the devil on his shoulder were actually quite convincing — you were a grown woman who had willingly posed for the photos, after all. You had wanted people to see them. You had been excited about the shoot. Taking a look was the least he could do to pay his respects for all of your hard work.

He swiped one of his large hands down over his face in frustration, telling himself it was wrong. That it would be a betrayal of your trust.

With his mouth set in a determined line, he took the magazines out of the bag and carried them over to the trashcan under the sink and tossed them inside.

With that settled, he finally let out the breath that he’d been holding for far too long and decided to pour himself a drink. Something stiff.

Fifteen minutes later Eddie still paced his apartment with a cigarette dangling from his lips, the futile drink having done nothing to curb the torment of his brain.

At the end of his rope, he decided the best course of action would be to give in and take a quick look, reasoning it was the only way to get it out of his system and off his mind. Nobody would ever have to know.

He pulled the magazines out of the trash and carried them into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table as he perched on the edge of the couch.

Just one look.

He grabbed a magazine and ripped open its plastic liner then ran his hand over the glossy cover, his fingers lingering on your ruby red lips that were parted as if in a breathless moan.

The first few pages were ads for expensive colognes and fancy, high-end watches; he flipped past them quickly, his fleeting fingers on a mission to find the one thing he truly desired.

Before long he reached a page that announced “Sexy Librarians of the World” in an obnoxiously large and swirling font. The photo underneath was of a woman wearing nothing but a smile, the majority of her naked body strategically covered by a very large open book. Cute, but not what he was looking for.

He impatiently turned the page and even though he was expecting to see you, his heart still leapt in his chest when he was confronted with your image.

You were leaning against a bookcase full of dusty leather-bound volumes, wearing only an open white blouse and a few long strings of pearls. The strands were gathered in one of your hands and you were pulling them down between your breasts, the placement of your arms revealing only a tease of your pert nipples. Your other hand was hovering just over the juncture of your thighs in a play on modesty that almost made it look as though you were pleasuring yourself.

You were gazing at the camera with the hint of a smirk playing across your lips, the twinkle in your eyes captured in mischievous perfection.

His naughty little librarian.

Eddie let out a sigh as he ran a palm over the growing bulge in his jeans, his stiffening cock pressing uncomfortably tight against the unyielding material.

He’d always thought that you were beautiful, but seeing you like that was beyond even his wildest dreams. Eyes locked on your image, he lowered his zipper so that he could grip the outline of his heavy cock through his boxers, teasing himself over the thin cotton.

He turned the page and a growl rumbled low in his chest when his eyes fell your next photo — even more daring than the one before.

It was taken from behind and you were down on all fours on a large wooden desk, wearing only a g-string, high heels and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. His eyes traced the thin strip of material as it disappeared between the smooth cheeks of your ass, then landed on the tantalizing sight of the underside of your breasts — revealed as you turned to give the camera a sultry gaze over your shoulder.

“Mmm such a bad fuckin’ girl.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he hastily pushed his boxers down so that the elastic waistband rested just below his balls. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, hissing at the sensation of his own hand, using it to spread the beads of pearly precum down the shaft.

As he started to stroke himself, the sight of your photo combined with the smooth glide of his palm brought him to the brink much faster than he expected, and he gave himself a gentle squeeze in an effort to slow things down.

He was so preoccupied with edging himself that he didn’t notice the knock that sounded on his door, but as the rapping persisted it finally brought him crashing back down to Earth. He nearly tripped when he tried to stand, pulling up his jeans and muttering under his breath about who the fuck would be knocking on his door at that late hour.

“Just a second,” he called out impatiently, figuring it was probably his neighbor Greg who was always showing up unannounced to try and score cheap weed.

When Eddie threw open the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see that instead of his middle-aged hippie neighbor, it was you.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I know it’s a bit late to stop by but I was in the neighborhood and wondered if you had any weed. Today was brutal and I just need to turn my brain off, you know?”

Then you noticed that his cheeks were pink and that he was breathing a bit heavy.

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Was just doing some sit ups.” He awkwardly patted his stomach. “I’ve got some weed in my room, wait here and I’ll roll you a joint.”

You couldn’t recall Eddie ever mentioning exercise before but you let his comment slide, your mind preoccupied with the exciting news you couldn’t wait to share — your issue of Stripped had just been released and your picture had made it onto the front cover. Even though Eddie had been acting a little funny about the whole thing, you knew he’d be happy for you.

Your feet were aching after a long day and you were dying to sit down, so you took off your jacket and decided to go make yourself comfortable on the couch while you waited.

When you walked into the living room, your stomach did a funny little flip when you saw your own image staring back up at you from the coffee table.

What was Eddie doing with your issue of Stripped? And why did he have so many copies?

When Eddie walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later and saw that you were gone, his blood instantly turned to ice water in his veins.

Oh shit. Shit.

He held his breath as he walked into the living room, his body freezing in mid-stride when he saw you looking up at him with a strange expression on your face.

“Eddie, why are there five issues of Stripped on your coffee table?”

Well, there it was. You were going to think he was a disgusting pervert and never speak to him again.

“I didn’t…look at it,” he stammered, guilt written all over the anguished lines of his face.

“Uh huh,” you said slowly, looking down at the plastic wrapper that had fallen to the floor in shreds like it’d been ripped apart by some kind of wild animal.

He sighed and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“I stopped at the store on my way home and these assholes came in and—“

You stared at him blankly. “And what?”

“They were looking at it—at you, and I just…” he trailed off as you gave him a teasing smile.

“You didn’t want them to look at my pictures, Eddie?”

His eyes darkened in an instant and you didn’t miss the tension of his jaw, flexing like the clenched fists held firmly at his side.

“No.”

"Why?" You stood up and walked over to him, holding his gaze as if in challenge, until you were face to face — his lips so close that you could almost feel the brush of their soft outline against your own.

Your breath caught when he reached out a hand to tenderly cup your cheek, then smoothed his thumb along the plump fullness of your lower lip.

“Because I didn’t want anyone else looking at what’s mine.”

“Yours?” Your voice came out a breathless whisper, shaken by the possessiveness of his words. You didn’t have a chance to say anything else before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Despite your surprise, you responded eagerly, letting yourself melt into his embrace and slotting your mouth against his as he pulled you into his arms.

With your mouths and limbs entwined, he walked you backwards to the couch, then sat down and pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling his waist. He pushed your skirt up in soft folds and ran his hands over the supple curve of your ass, his mouth greedily attacking your lips as he squeezed the mounds of smooth flesh in each large palm.

You ran your nails down the front of his t-shirt and then helped him pull it off over his head. His curls fell in a frizzy halo around his flushed face as he leaned back and gave you a lazy smile, the chain of his guitar pick necklace gleaming against his smooth, tattooed chest. Then with a firm grip on your hips, he guided you to grind in his lap, his breath coming out ragged as the firm bulge in his pants pressed against the barely covered heat of your cunt.

“Did you like my pictures, Eddie?” you teased as you started to unbutton your blouse, the stiff creases in his denim stealing your breath with each slow drag against your clit.

“I…fuck. Yeah, I liked them,” he mumbled in awe as he watched you push the silk down off your shoulders to reveal your lacy bra — one you were very grateful you had decided to wear that morning on a whim.

He ran his hands over the sheer lace as though mesmerized by the sight, letting his thumbs caress your hardening nipples through the delicate material.

“That’s an awfully sexy bra to be wearing to work,” he growled, reaching behind you to undo the clasp. “Maybe you’re not such an innocent little librarian after all.”

When you let the cups fall down your chest, he sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of your perfect breasts — even better in real life than they had looked in the magazine.

“Christ, you’re so fucking hot.”

You rolled your hips, your nipples brushing against the tip of his nose with each delicious grind and he leaned forward to swirl his tongue around one of the firm buds before biting down on it ever so gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the growing ache between your thighs. You moaned in response and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Since you interrupted me earlier I think it’s only fair you show me what I missed,” he rasped in a muffled voice against your breast. “I want you to pose for me. Show me what’s mine.”

“Now?” you asked with a breathy laugh and he nodded his head.

“I want something those other guys will never get to see.”

Your lips curled into a coy smile, enticed by his naughty idea. “Okay, as long as they're for your eyes only.”

You stood up to unzip your skirt and then shimmied it down over your hips. He let out a low rumble of approval when you stepped out in just your panties, already wet enough to cling to the puffy lips of your cunt.

He got up and walked over to the bookshelf to grab the instant camera that he’d recently purchased to take photos at his shows.

“How do you want me?” you asked with a nervous laugh as you climbed onto the couch, settling onto your back against the throw pillows and using your arms to push your breasts together like your first photo in the magazine.

“Like this?”

“Yeah angel, just like that.” Eddie raised the camera and you heard a high-pitched whine as it flashed. He let the undeveloped picture fall out onto the floor, too preoccupied with the sight in front of him to bother to pick it up.

His dark eyes never left you as used his free hand to unfasten his belt, then pushed down his jeans and impatiently kicked them off his feet. Your eyes widened when you saw the impressive outline that strained the front of his boxers and seeing your reaction, he gave you a wolfish smile.

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

You let your hand trace a slow path to the lace edge of your panties then you pulled them to the side, splaying your manicured fingers over your pussy just like the poses you’d seen in other dirty magazines.

“Is this what you want, Eddie?”

He stared for a moment with his mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent word before finally holding up the camera and capturing the lurid shot. You heard the whine of the flash as you closed your eyes and slowly circled a finger over your clit.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he mumbled in a throaty whisper. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You lowered your voice to a saucy purr. “Oh, I can see it, Eddie. It looks so big and hard. I bet you could really fill me up.”

He groaned at your words as you sat up to switch positions.

“Maybe you’ll like this one better?”

You flipped over onto your hands and knees, wiggling your ass in the air and turning your head over your shoulder to shoot him your most sultry gaze.

“Well, shit.” He climbed onto the couch and kneeled behind you, running a hand over your smooth backside. “Yeah, I like this one a lot.”

He grasped the tiny strip of your thong and pulled it to the side then ran two of his thick fingers along the seam of your cunt, letting out a low hum of approval.

“So nice and wet for me. Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

With a firm hand pressed between your shoulder blades, he pushed you into a deeper bend until your face was pressed against the soft cushions of the couch.

“C’mon let me see that pretty pussy.”

The camera clicked a few more times and then you heard him set it down on the coffee table. His hands free, he used them to spread your cheeks and then spit onto your folds before burying his face in their sticky sweetness. Your cries were muffled in the cushions of the couch while his long tongue fucked your dripping entrance and his nose nudged gently against your tight little hole.

You arched your back to give him better access to flick his tongue in rapid flutters over your clit, the camera suddenly forgotten in his desperate need to taste you.

The sounds he was making as he devoured you were loud and filthy, and with each soft lap of his tongue your climax quickly started to build.

“I need you inside me,” you whined as you felt yourself start to clench around nothing. He chuckled at your neediness before pushing his boxers down to free his already leaking cock. He grasped himself and started to glide his shaft through the pulsing heat of your cunt, each nudge of his head against your clit making you cry out as you dug your nails into the couch.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged, pushing back against him with a desperate whimper.

“My good girl needs it bad,” he teased as you pushed yourself back against him. He finally took mercy on you, letting his thick length sink into you slowly.

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long,” he sighed as pulled almost all the way out, tortuously slow, before harshly thrusting back inside. Soon he was fucking you at a desperate pace, snapping his hips against you as each deep stroke hit that spot inside that made you see stars.

“Such a good girl…squeezin’ me so fuckin' tight,” he rasped as his fingers dug into the soft round of your hips.

You started to fuck yourself back against him while he used the string of your thong as leverage to bounce you on his cock, and he could feel your arousal making a slick mess of his heavy balls.

“Actin’ like an angel when all you really wanted was a big cock to fill you up, huh?”

He reached around to where your bodies were joined to rub his fingertips over your clit and before long you were crying out his name as you felt your climax taking hold. With your warm walls pulsing around him, Eddie knew he couldn’t hold himself back much longer — between you and the magazine he’d been edged going on hours.

“Shit, that’s it. Cum for me.”

You cried out as you came and he pulled out at the very last second, grunting as he stroked himself above you to decorate your ass and lower back with pearly ropes of his warm release.

“Shit. You look so fuckin’ good covered in my cum. Don’t move.”

He reached for the camera on the coffee table and snapped a photo of his masterpiece, then grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and used it to gently wipe you clean. When he was finished, you turned over onto your back and he collapsed on top of you in a sweaty mess of wild hair and tangled limbs.

He grabbed the last photo and shook it. "Oh, I can't wait till this baby develops."

You laughed and after sharing a tender kiss, you looked deep into his eyes, trying to hold onto the moment for as long as you could.

“You said you’d wanted this for a while. Did you really mean it?” you asked in a small voice.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and pushed a sweaty strand of curls behind his ear, giving you an almost bashful grin.

“Yeah, of course I meant it. I’m crazy about you. Been that way for a long time now.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you had a hard time accepting that it was true.

“But I���m so boring. I see those girls at your shows…I’m not like them.”

He looked down at you with dawning realization —all your talk of being too dull suddenly making a lot more sense.

“Sweetheart, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. “And I haven’t wanted anyone but you for a very long time.”

"Really?" You smiled up at him as he nodded, giving you a goofy smile.

“And just so you know, I kinda like the whole strait-laced good girl thing you’ve got going on. Makes things even hotter, if I’m being honest.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning surpise. “Mr. Munson, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a little bit kinky.”

He nodded and bit his lip, his eyes alight with fiery mischief.

“Mmhmm…guilty as charged.”

And it was true, Eddie couldn’t wait to show you all the naughty things you’d been missing out on — things he knew a reserved girl like you would never, ever do. Now that you were his, he planned to take his time to unravel all of your secret desires, but he wasn’t quite finished with the current situation at hand.

“Speaking of which, Miss Librarian…” He smiled devilishly. “I think you still owe me a few more photos for my personal collection. Maybe we can make an exchange for some overdue library books?”

You furrowed your brow in faux-seriousness. “That could probably be arranged. Maybe a photo for every book that you return?”

“Oh well, in that case I have a confession to make. I have so, so many overdue books. Some of ‘em were even due weeks ago,” he raised his eyebrows up and down in jest before sprinkling soft kisses along the column of your throat.

“Hmm…that’s very serious,” you said as sternly as you could despite the butterflies that fluttered low in your belly. “I think maybe we should move this to the bedroom. Something tells me it could take a while.”

Without another word, Eddie grabbed the camera and raced you to his room.

Your issue of Stripped went on to become one of the publication’s all-time best sellers and the “Sexy Librarians of the World” pictorial was lauded as an instant classic. It turned out that the public had been eager for something different from the same old, tired fare and critics praised the magazine for its bold new direction.

A year later when Stripped executives invited you to pose for a special encore edition, you agreed on one very important condition — next time your boyfriend Eddie got to watch.

Thank you for reading! 🧡

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

Tags 📸: @dem0batz @ali-r3n @mystars123 @kellsck @emxxblog

@daveythorntonslocker @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @losingmygrasponreality @kelsiegrin

@immyluvsdean @sammybrrr @wingedpeachjudgegiant @pretendthisnameisclever @mdurdenpitt

@theold-ultraviolence @jasminelafleur @madelynraemunson @iletmytittiestitty @str4ngergirlw0rld

@mopeymopeymouse @mrsjellymunson @hippiegoth97

[obsessedwithitall]

reindeer games┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

we’re gonna call this a belated holiday blurb 🎄

cw: no smut, but there’s allusions to mutual masturbation and an over abundance of filthy flirting b/c these two simply can’t help themselves. the concept for eddie’s shoot is inspired by this (nsfw) incredible freaking art by @safk-art.

18+, MDNI┃2.2k

You’ve never been a fan of these calendar shoots.

It takes practically the entire day and the studio is packed full because they bring in just about every performer under contract to participate.

It’s loud and chaotic, lots of PAs running back and forth with the most random assortment of props you’ve ever seen. And it’s stifling hot with all the bustling bodies, equipment and lightboxes, flash bulbs going off every five seconds.

Right now there’s a few girls in Victoria’s Secret-esque getups with feathery angel wings being cupids for February, while two more covered in glittery body paint are getting ready to pose in a cauldron to be a “pot of gold” for March. After them, it’ll be girls in big yellow rain boots with matching caps and nothing else spraying one another with a hose for April. 

The remaining months are still in the process of being set up, backdrops being changed out and lighting adjusted. On the furthest wall, there’s a big board with everyone’s assignments and the various call times as well as mock-ups of each concept and who will participate in the photo.

You’ve already visited the board and deduced your first stop will be the wardrobe department so you can get your costume. You’ve also noted that a certain someone will likely be finishing up his turn at the make-up mirror right around the same time you’re done being fitted.

When you emerge from behind the curtained off area set up for people to change, yours eyes meet Eddie’s across all the chaos and he’s immediately getting up from his chair, striding towards you.

Your body can’t help but react to his presence, despite your best efforts to keep your face neutral and squash the urge to run directly into his arms.

You might’ve thought it had been days or weeks since you saw him, rather than mere hours. You might’ve thought you woke up that morning on opposite coasts rather than with your naked limbs entwined and tangled up in your bedsheets. You might’ve thought he was some kind of long lost lover whose face was fading from memory the way your heart leapt just from seeing him.

Still, you know you can’t greet him the way you want to. Not with all these people around.

Word has yet to get around about you two, and you intend to keep it that way. The current theory is that what happened at the awards was just a fluke—a random, drunken, one-night thing. 

(A one-night thing that’s led to the best weeks of your life, but that’s neither here nor there.)

You’re meant to be playing it cool, keeping things professional, still holding all your cards decidedly close to your vests, at least for the time being.

But Eddie's not exactly making it easy.

He lets his dressing gown slip open slightly as he walks over, showing off a little more of the top of his chest and his thick, muscular neck where it meets his pronounced collarbones.

Slut, you think with the utmost affection.

The boy certainly makes for a cute Rudolph.

He’s snagged the coveted December slot, and the creative director has chosen a bondage theme—hence the body harness they’ve got him in under his thin robe, as well as a collar with jingling gold bells and a pair of antlers on top of his mop of unruly curls. For the picture, he’s also going to be tied up with Christmas lights, struggling against the illuminated ties while you and the rest of the ‘reindeer’ stand around him laughing and teasing him mercilessly for his bright red ‘nose.’

You imagine that’s what he was in the chair for, getting the head of his dick painted with deep scarlet rouge so it’ll look like it’s shining.

It’s all seems like a bit much, but even you have to admit you’re excited to see the end result.

He scans up and down with those mischievous eyes, all the while having to resist the urge to slip his hands around your waist and pull you into him, showing you just how redundant you’ve made the Viagra he popped earlier. He should have known he wouldn’t even need it once you were on set.

He snaps his fingers and points, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Let me guess…Vixen?” 

The bells on the collar around your neck jingle as you smile and shake your head.

“More like Dancer,” you replied lowly, dropping to a breathy whisper when he got close enough to hear. “Or did you forget last night already?”

“Not forgetting that anytime soon,” he promised in a husky whisper of his own.

You shiver at his words as they trickle down your back, and you can almost feel his hands on you exactly as they were the night before—fingers splayed wide to hold onto as much of you as possible when he reached out for your ass.

The dance had started out innocently enough, as a brainstorming session for your next project, only for it to devolve as it often did these days into you attacking one another once one or both of you could no longer restrain yourselves. The pretense of you as a stripper giving your security guard a lap dance as thanks for chasing away a handsy creep fell away, along with your clothes.

This newfound aspect of your relationship was certainly inspiring a lot of ideas, but it had proved to be more of a hindrance to your work ethic than anything else. Still, you couldn’t be too broken up about it. Not when you’re having the best sex of your personal and professional life combined.

“Not forgetting this anytime soon, either,” Eddie adds, still staring raptly at your costume.

You and the other girls are dressed pretty simply in matching brown teddies and antlers of your own, plus collars similar to Eddie’s. They’re also going to paint your faces to look more like deer, with cute little noses and tiny white freckles and extra-long lashes. And yeah, it’s a little silly. But the way a certain pair of bright brown eyes are pouring over you right now…it’s well worth it.

“Hey…think you get to keep this?” he asks quietly, carefully fingering the marabou trim.

“Unlikely,” you frown and then eye him coyly. “But Tina might let me borrow it…assuming it’ll be returned to her in pristine condition.”

Eddie hisses softly through his teeth and his head quickly shakes back and forth.

“Yeeeeah, I can’t guarantee that,” he chuckles.

You deliver a light swat to his chest. Not too flirty, but not strictly platonic either. Though, it’s times like these that make you wonder why you bother.

Anyone looking on could probably see straight through your paltry attempt to act disinterested, and you’ve already started getting third degrees from some of your friends in the industry who have seen the massage tape.

Almost as soon as it was came out, you were being bombarded. People were quick to praise the chemistry between you and your co-star, but they were even quicker to drop their voices to a hushed and conspiring whisper as they asked what was ‘going on’ between you two.

And when you tried to say it was nothing or that you were just friends…it didn’t exactly go over.

You’re joking, right? Nah, no one is that good an actor, babe. The man is fully obsessed with you. Just look at his face when he—

So, yeah, okay, word was likely going to get out. But it wasn’t going to be today.

Right now, you just had to focus on taking this photo and getting through the rest of the day so you could spend the rest of your night with the adorable creature standing before you.

“I’m headed for make-up,” you offer. And in a lightning-quick move, you reach out to squeeze his arm, then swipe at it gently like you were just brushing off a piece of lint for him.

Very discreet. So covert.

Eddie tucks his chin to his chest as he nods, his eyes still roving over you and your skin he can see through the sheer material. You move to walk past him, letting your hip graze decidedly against his.

“Smile pretty,” you whisper under your breath.

It’s not too much longer before they’re calling people over for your shot and instructing Eddie to get in position first. He drops his gown and sinks to his knees in the center of the frame, hard and freshly pumped cock bobbing between his thighs. The fake polyester snow on the floor provides at least a little cushioning, and the red on his head looks extra bright against the sparkly white.

The effect is…extremely distracting. 

Even knowing it’s just make-up, as is the fake cum dribbling from his tip, your mind swirls with recent memories of his cock looking just like this in real life—his own fist wrapped tight around it, sliding up and down in long, even strokes; your dresser rattling as he leans on it for support while you lay with your legs splayed wide in your bed, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit.

His eyes meet yours briefly and from the way they flash, you’re certain he’s remembering it too.

Once the photographer is happy with Eddie’s placement, the PAs come to tie his hands behind his back. They wind the strands of lights around his arms and torso up to his shoulders, draping them across his chest and then crossing them behind his back. Two of the girls are given the ends to hold so he looks like he’s hog-tied.

The light bounces prettily off his pale skin that glows a rosy pink, and you make a mental note to shoot him in similar lighting. Soon.

Maybe you’ll do something like this, but with just the Christmas lights. Him in your bed, his delicate wrists tied to your headboard, those soft rainbow lights the only color in the darkened room aside from that of a deep, cool blue winter night…

Okay, seriously. You’ve got to stop.

You’re at work, don’t forget.

Luckily, they’re placing the rest of you now and you’re brought into the foreground to stand next to Eddie. The two of you exchange another look as they fine tune the lighting, and you shoot him the subtlest wink you can manage. It’s short, so quick he nearly misses it, but it’s all he needs to be absolutely certain his dick will stay hard for the remainder of the shoot. Maybe the whole day.

He’s only vaguely aware of the girls standing behind him, or all the people crowded in behind the camera. Once they start shooting, his vision tunnels until all that’s left in focus is you.

The only thing he knows is it’s probably a good thing his hands are tied. Because the way you’re looking, he could not be held responsible for where his hands would wander if they were free. 

Eddie gives himself over to the character he’s meant to be playing, and it’s really not all that hard acting pathetic and desperate for you. The lights he’s all tangled up in tighten as the girls holding either end pull them taut, and the room fills with their giggling as they laugh at him.

But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have any idea what the rest of the reindeer are doing. All he can focus any of his attention on is you in that damn teddy, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger to make him look at you, smirking like he’s a piece of dirt you wouldn’t let lick your kneecap, let alone anything more erogenous, no matter how hard he begged you for it.

Yet somehow, he’s only more eager to try.

He knows they have the shot they want almost immediately, but they go through a few more poses just to have options. In one, they have you stand with one of your heels planted on Eddie’s chest and if you stay like that much longer, the fake cum on his tip is gonna have company.

Finally, they’re satisfied and there’s a great deal of droning chatter that sort of fades into static as they start to move on to the next shoot.

The rest of the girls wander off, but you kneel and start to unwrap the strands of Christmas lights for him. And they weren’t that tight, but you still massage his wrists once they’re freed and lean in close to his ear so you can whisper how well he did. His cock kicks up all over again at your gentle doting and he wonders if you’ll keep this up tonight at hom—your place.

Once he’s freed, you start to wind up the lights in your hand and glance around for the PAs who are nowhere to be found. You then push the coil into Eddie’s hands and give him a level look.

“See if you can sneak those out,” you instruct him with a smirk. “I’ve got plans for them later.”

ty for reading, merry late whatever-you-celebrate! ❄️💋

[obsessedwithitall]

(front) (back)

Hello 👋🏻

As LMM Eddie loves reader in t shirt and panties combo - what would his reaction be to seeing her in this t shirt, brought because picture is very much Eddie coded.

I brought this t shirt because as soon as I saw the picture I thought of him.

🙂

@sariahs-stuff - Hope you like it😉

Loving Mr. Munson ask-

WARNING -Mature Content Ahead:

He would LOVE reader in this shirt and cheeky panties. He would lose his shit if he woke up to her cooking him breakfast, dancing around the kitchen in this little number. He would quietly stand there a moment, smiling to himself and wondering how he got so fucking lucky.

" That shirt is VERY fucking metal Babycakes."

You jump and turn around, hand to your heart." Holy shit Baby, you scared me!"

" Sorry Doll, didn't mean to, I was just enjoying the show." He flashes you a toothy grin then walks up behind you, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck.

" You were standing there watching me, what a fucking pervert." You tease, then press your ass against him and feel the hard outline of his arousal." Hard already Baby? Shit."

He lightly kisses your neck, giving you goosebumps. "You know that seeing you in T-shirts and lacy panties does to me. It's fucking sexy. Especially when you are shaking your sweet ass and your cheeks are peeking out." His hands slide up from your stomach to your breasts." It my weakness."

You lean into him, his touch making your body tingle. "That's why I do it."

" Fuckin tease." He whispers, nibbling on your ear." That shirt is awesome by the way."

" I saw it and thought of you." You purred.

" Looks really fucking good on you Sweetheart, but I'm thinking that at this moment, it would look a little better on the floor."

You turned your head towards him and smirked." You think so?"

" I fucking KNOW so."

You lifted your arms up over your head and he slid the shirt up and off.

" Yup, I was right." He spun you around to face him,a sexy smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"You keep it up with these shenanigans Mr.Munson, and your breakfast is going to be cold." You smile.

" I have never had a problem keeping it up Mrs. Munson, you should know that ." Eddie winked." And as for Breakfast getting cold, I've got something nice and warm right here that I would like to dive right into."

In an instant you were sitting on the counter, lacy panties pulled aside,Eddie's boxers were around his ankles and he was fucking you senseless, all thoughts of breakfast long forgotten. Just temporarily. After burning off some calories Eddie was ravenous and ate everything in sight, after all, you had made it for him.

[obsessedwithitall]

Earlier, I tried to say to my coworker, "I'm going for a wee." I actually said, "I'm going for a bag." I WASN'T GOING FOR A BAG I JUST NEEDED TO WEE

[obsessedwithitall]

Surprise Boyfriend

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

Warning: Cursing, mentions that reader is plus size but doesn't emphasises, insecurities

Summary: You're in love with Eddie but he doesn't like you back. Right? You're just friends. That's why it's so surprising when he asks to meet your parents.

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

I’m not sure when things started to change between Eddie and me. We've been friends for a while, hanging out after school, talking about everything from Dungeons & Dragons to heavy metal. We joke around, complain about the crazy world around us, and escape to our own little bubble where things just make sense. But lately? It feels different.

Eddie’s always been a little flirty with me. It's just his nature. He’s got that sarcastic charm that comes with being an all-around badass—a wild, untamed guy that everyone notices. His long, messy hair, the leather jacket he always wears, his constant rock ‘n’ roll vibe, and, of course, the undeniable smirk that’s always on his face. I never really thought much of it. We’re friends. He’s just Eddie being Eddie. But now? I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it.

The way he looks at me sometimes. The way his arm casually drapes around my shoulders when we sit close. The way he holds my hand, like it’s something natural, like we’ve been doing it forever.

But then I remember—Eddie’s the kind of guy who’s into wild, pretty girls. Not… well, not me. I’m not thin, I’m not what everyone expects. I’ve got extra weight, and I always feel like I’m the last person someone like Eddie would ever want to date. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all, and I’m just his friend. Nothing more.

It’s a Saturday, and we’re lying on Eddie’s bed again, watching one of those cheesy 80s slasher flicks. We’ve been here for hours, the room filled with the scent of old pizza and the faint smell of smoke from the joint we shared earlier. Eddie’s strumming his guitar quietly in the corner, the soft music blending with the sounds of the TV. He’s so comfortable here, and for the first time in a long while, I feel relaxed too.

"So..." Eddie glances over at me, his eyes mischievous. “When am I gonna meet your parents?”

My heart skips a beat, and I turn to face him, unsure of what he’s getting at. “What?” I ask, the word coming out a little more confused than I intended.

“You know,” he says, still grinning. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time with you, your friends, and your—well, your extended family. What about the folks? When do I get to meet them?”

I blink, unsure if he’s joking or being serious. “Eddie, what the hell? Why would you need to meet my parents?”

He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair, his expression turning slightly more serious, but there’s still a playful edge to it. “Because, Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

I laugh a little, but then I catch the look in his eyes. He’s not joking. Or at least, he doesn’t seem to think he’s joking. My breath catches in my throat. “Boyfriend?” I repeat, barely able to hide the confusion in my voice.

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Y/N, come on. We’ve been going on dates for months. I even took you to that picnic last weekend, remember? We smoked a little weed, and I bought you dinner afterward. That’s a date, sweetheart. Plus I invite you to my shows and then dinner afterward. I consider that a date.”

I swallow hard. Oh god. I didn’t realize that’s what that was. I thought we were just hanging out, just… being us. I mean, Eddie’s invited people to see his band before, so I just assumed this was another one of those things. He’s always friendly to everyone. And yeah, we’ve shared some quiet moments together, but I never thought it meant what he clearly thinks it does.

“But you invite everyone to your shows, Eddie,” I say, trying to explain myself, my voice trembling a little. “I thought you were just being nice, like you always are. Like, friendly Eddie.”

He narrows his eyes at me, leaning in a little closer. “I’m always nice, sure. But I don't pay for everyone's dinner. Being nice isn't the same thing as asking someone on a date, is it?” He gives me a pointed look, clearly a little frustrated.

I chew on my lip, still unsure of what I’m missing. “I don’t know, Eddie,” I say quietly. “I just thought… we were friends.”

He grins, his usual cocky charm returning. “I thought we were more than that. I mean, come on. We’ve been holding hands, sharing this bed, watching movies together. You’re practically my girlfriend without all the labels.”

I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks as I glance down at my hands. He’s right—we’ve been close. Really close. But I never thought of it in those terms. I’m not used to being the girl who gets that kind of attention. Especially not from someone like Eddie.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

Eddie gently takes my hand, squeezing it softly. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? You’re incredible. You’ve been there for me, Y/N. You come to all my shows, you cheer me on like you’re my biggest fan. You support me—like a girlfriend would. I thought you knew.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Does he really feel that way about me?

The weight of his words settles on me, and I begin to understand. He’s been there for me too, in his own way. He’s always included me, always been there to make me laugh, always made sure I felt important. I start to realize that maybe I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me this whole time.

“We’ve been hanging out so much,” I say, a little embarrassed, “I just thought it was normal. I mean, I never thought you were asking me out. I thought you were just… being Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, the tenderness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “I get it,” he says. “But I’ve been asking you out, Y/N. We’ve been going on dates. I don’t do this with anyone else, you know. It’s always been you.”

I nod, trying to process everything. The hand-holding, the moments when he pulls me closer when we’re sitting next to each other, the way he makes sure I’m always part of whatever he’s doing. He’s been showing me, in his own way, that he cares.

“You’re right,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

Eddie brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle, and I can’t help but melt into it. “Well, now you do,” he says softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I smile, feeling something shift between us. Maybe I’ve been blind to it all along. Maybe I was the one who didn’t see what was right there in front of me. But now I do. And somehow, knowing that Eddie really does want to be with me makes everything feel right.

As Eddie leans back, his arm sliding across my shoulders, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m finally seeing things clearly. And I can’t help but wonder what the next step for us is.

[obsessedwithitall]

Feral Eddie?

Eddie x nerdy shy reader where reader goes down on Eddie in the stacks of the school library. Best part is reader is the one to initiate it. Reader won’t let Eddie cum if he is too loud.

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob, slight dom!reader, sub!eddie

The library is practically empty as you browse. You're meeting Eddie here and decide to look at the books while you wait. This has been your make out spot for the past few months and you think you're finally ready to take things to the next level.

Eddie has been nothing but sweet, never pressuring you to do anything you don't want to. He always goes at your paces, never asking for more and always eager to do whatever you want.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn around, a smile appearing on your lips as you take in those pretty honey eyes. He smiles back as you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him to you as your lips find his. You're feeling bold today and he loves seeing this side of you. The one you only show him because of how comfortable with him.

His hands stay at your waist like the gentleman he is as his lips move against yours softly. Yours are hungry, tired of the gentle, soft stuff you've been doing for months now. As amazing as it's been, you want to try something new. You want to make him feel as good as he's made you. And you know exactly what to do, but you're not entirely sure how to go about it.

You tongue slides into his mouth as your arms wrap around his neck. He matches your energy, pressing you into the bookcase behind you, his fingers digging into your waist. His body is fully pressing into you and you feel his cock against you.

You feel drool collecting in your mouth as you think about sucking him off. You've never done it before, but you want to so bad. You want to taste him, to lick every single drop of cum from the head.

Eddie pulls away from you and you try to chase his lips, but he pulls you away from him every so slightly. You're confused as to what he's doing, but he reaches up to wipe the corner of your mouth before you can ask.

"You're drooling," he tells you. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could-I could take care of that for you." Your eyes drop to his crotch and you can see it's gotten up even more since you started kissing.

"Take care of-oh. Baby, you don't have to do that." He really wants you to, but he's not going to pressure you. He wants to go at your pace, but he has to admit that he'd love to have you take care of him so he wouldn't have to cut your make out session short so he can go to the bathroom to get himself off.

"But I want to. You always do so much for me and I want to repay you. Please." You're batting your eyelashes as you pulling him close again, grabbing hold of his cock, giving it a squeeze which causes Eddie to gasp.

"God, please," he whines and you're quick to pull his pants and underwear down. As soon as his cock comes into view, you immediately wonder how it's going to fit in your mouth.

You lower yourself onto your knees, your heart racing in your chest. Even though you've never actually given a blowjob, you know exactly what to do. You spit into your hand then grab hold of the base moving it up and down, slow at first, but then you pick up the pace, your eyes widening as he lets out a loud moan.

Your hand stops and Eddie quickly apologizes, desperate for you to continue and you do, pumping your hand even harder. You stop every time he gets too loud and it gets to the point where he has to bite down on the collar of his t-shirt to prevent himself from making any noise.

He's holding onto the bookcase for hear life as he hold in his moan, cum leaking out of the tip that you're quick to clean up with your tongue before finally taking him into your mouth. His fingers move to your hair as you suck him off, your tongue licking up and down the under side of his cock.

You're awkward about it at first, but you eventually get in a good rhythm, licking and sucking like this is something you do all the time. And this by far the best head Eddie's ever gotten.

You remove your hand and try your best to take all of him even though tears are pricking your eyes. You keep going, though, looking up at Eddie who's got his eyes shut tight, biting down hard on his shirt as he gives your hair a yank in response to the pleasure he's receiving. If you had known you would have gotten this kind of response, you would have done this so much sooner.

His nails dig into your scalp as he comes and he's able to hold back this time, a loud, dirty moan come from his mouth as he cum leaking out into your mouth. You pulling him out of your mouth and make sure he sees you swallow before you get up onto your feet.

He gets his pants on in a flash and the two of you gather your things before racing out of the library before anyone catches you. It's then that you decide that maybe you need a new make out spot, especially since now you're going to be getting up to more than just kissing.

[obsessedwithitall]

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,

“We gotta lock this kid into a contract now.”

[obsessedwithitall]

ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

[obsessedwithitall]

The Show Must Go On . . . 🎶 MDNI 🎶

"you think you can just do that shit and get away with it?"

summary: you, eddie's girlfriend and understudy can get very sneaky when it comes to teasing your boyfriend.

warnings: smut, 18+, hand job, sneaky, risky, brat!reader x eddie munson, teasing, insinuated angry sex , drummer! eddie ( I tried my best )

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Eddie was always teasing you.

The way he could get you to blush with a single wink, the way you'd squirm with just a dance of his fingers down your leg...

The way you would look up at him just for saying your name in that tone he always did.. He just knew what he was doing...

He thought everything he made you suffer through was hilarious, chuckling at the sight of you glaring up at him for making you all hot and bothered..

Enough was enough, he had to pay for what he was putting you through.

Being Eddie's understudy was easy, you sit on his lap, look pretty and he'd teach you a bare minimum of notes he knew on whatever instrument he seemed fit his taste that day. His bandmates were very friendly the day you met them, Steve was the lead singer while Robin was on bass.

You'd gotten pretty close to her over the passing year and you felt as if you could talk to her about absolutely anything.

"You're joking, right?" Except what you had just brought up, apparently... because the blonde haired chick is giving you a strange look as she strummed her fingers at a quick tempo along the strings of her bass. "Hell, no. I'm not helping you with that." Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at her answer.. Your arms shifting to cross over your chest.

"I just need something to-..Knock him down a peg? It ain't fair for him to-" Your words were cut off by Robin tossing her pick in your direction. "Now, I love you, alright? But I'm gonna have to stop you there. I don't want to hear what you two weirdos do behind closed doors-.." "Fine, whatever-..." Although the tone in your voice dripped with a saddened defeat, that flame in your eyes only burning greater as you catch your boyfriend's sneaky little grin as he waved to you from across the room. "Fuck.." He was so hot, just sitting there.. doing nothing, beads of sweat running down his face only proof of all that hard work he'd been doing all day. A drumstick spinning between those ringed, calloused fingers.. the very ones that worked you over and over until you were a mess in his arms... God damn it! He had you wrapped around one of those. He knew it very well that he did, that's why he's wearing that dumb ass smile on his face.. As if saying, 'try me'.

You couldn't even find the strength to look away, even across the room, those eyes had a hold on you. It took Eddie looking away first to return his gaze to Steve... for you to be able to feel as if you could breathe again..

After the short break, Steve called everyone over to help load the instruments and amplifiers onto the stage the band would be playing on. Although it was just practice, Steve liked everything the band did to be punctual and worked on a ahead of time so the shows ran naturally.

It wasn't long before everything was set into place, marked by tape that the 'leader of the band', he'd like to call himself.. Had placed down.

You sorta felt bad for the plan you were about to go along with, not to Eddie, but to Robin and Steve when the times come. Taking the seat you'd always take, you sat yourself on Eddie's left leg.. eyeing the drum-set before you before taking a deep breath. "What are you nervous for, baby...? This isn't even the real show, what's got you all nervous?" The warmth of his voice trailed along the small of your neck but you didn't reply.

Listening, watching, waiting...

Giving the occasional nod here and there every time he'd ask if you felt alright, his eyes falling over you with each moment he got as Steve and Robin talked on and on about what songs to perform and which wouldn't stand a chance. That's all you could make out from the conversation, your mind trailing off as you thought about the things you could do to him..

Then, it hit you.. He loves making you feel vulnerable, so get him when he's let his guard down.. Perfect.

A smile crossed you lips, the smile that was slowly dropping off your boyfriend's lips returning as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your neck. "There's my girl, back to the land of the livin'?"

His words smooth like butter as the warmth of his breath trailed along your skin, earning a small shudder.

"Sorry, Eds.. Was lost in thought, what's happening?"

You know what was happening, twiddling your fingers as your eyes trailed down from your lap to his for a quick moment then back up to Steve and Robin center stage.

"They're debating on what song we should play, the song Robin's workin' on isn't done yet so.. We're gonna have to play-" "I Was Made For Lovin' You." You cut him off. "By Kiss, I liked that one the first time I heard you guys play it."

"I was gonna say some Queen, but yeah, sure. Hey, Harrington! My baby wants us to try I Was Made For Lovin' You." With exchanged looks, Robin and Steve shrugged in unison before moving to their spots.

Soon, as the trio began to play, each time Eddie raised the drumsticks over the drum-set, you'd squirm. Slightly rubbing against his lap, earning a few grunts and a whisper for you to 'keep still'...Which was barely audible with the banging of the drums right in front of you.

This wasn't enough. You need him weak, begging.. Just as he had you all those agonizing times..

"Fuck it." You muttered to yourself as you muster up that little bit of confidence you've got building up, slowly sliding yourself over until directly on Eddie's lap.

"Babe, I can't really see what I am doing- What is goin' on with you to-.." His words trailed off as his eyes grew wide as you hand reached behind yourself and rubbed him over his tight jeans. God, he was big.. even from what you could feel, his dick even when semi-hard could barely fit in your hand.. Even without turning to face your boyfriend, you knew you had him.. the way his hands grew shaky, and with how he stumbled over a few beats.

You've heard the song many times to know that much.

And that only fueled the little confidence you had..

Carefully, a hand dragged down his zipper before slipping around the button to tug it free.

Eddie tried to keep focused, his arms almost moving on their own as if he was in autopilot as he tensed up, you could feel his nervous gaze dropping to the top of your head.. But you didn't dare turn around, once you looked him in the eyes, you knew it meant game over.

Your other hand reached back to assist the other, one gently pushing the waistband of his briefs as the other slipped his member free.. The heat growing in his cheeks slowly ran down to meet with his member, currently pulsating in your hand... With a few strokes, it was already standing at attention, poking gently at your back.

'There.. how does it feel to get a taste of what you put me through, Munson?' A smirk soon replaced that shy, twitchy smile you had before as you dragged your hand along the size..

It was kind of an awkward position for you, but the soft whimper that slips from Eddie amongst the banging drums were worth it.

With each moment the song would pick up, you'd move your hand in unison, poor Eddie was fighting demons trying to keep himself quiet. Taking a moment, your free hand gently rubbed his bouncing leg as if if trying to soothe him before trailing behind you to join in the dance, Thumb lightly rubbing over his tip before nudging at the slit a few times, then back down to rub at his leg.

Once the song was drawing to an end, you let him go. Slowly moving back over to sit on his leg as the sound of Eddie adjusting himself frantically brought a smile to your face. "That was good guys," Steve started as he turned from his mic to face everyone. Thank god for dim lighting because Eddie was sweating and still fidgeting to get his pants zipped up and buttoned.

"Although, you were a little sloppy on the starting eight count, Munson." An embarrassed look crossed his face as he brought a gloved hand to rub the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah-..Sorry, man." "Let's take it from the top." Twirling a finger, Steve and Robin turned back towards the empty seats before the stage and got ready. That cheeky whipped from your face as Eddie leaned down to whisper in your ear, his hands beating the drums with an angry clash..

"I'll meet you in the van."

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author's note : I've never written a full length fanfic like this before so, please be gentle with me, I got an inspiration and ran with it, hope you all like it . . . ♡

[obsessedwithitall]

So sick coworker I think I'm decent friends with, they've been off for 3 weeks poorly....is it too late to be like "look if you need owt, gis a call mate" or should i just stick it out until they get back