hellmastereddie

[hellmastereddie]

Fem!reader who is going through their lipstick collection and testing how they transfer to determine which ones to keep.

She sets them out on the coffee table and plonks down next to Eddie on the couch.

Putting on one shade, a warm nude, using a small compact mirror, she kisses the back of her hand once, twice, three times, until there’s no more colour coming off her lips.

Eddie can’t help but glance at her each time he hears the smack of her kiss.

She checks her pout in the mirror again. Satisfied, she puts it in the ‘keep’ pile.

Next is red. She applies it in the compact mirror and Eddie is transfixed on the precise swipe that paints her lips a bright ruby. Once happy, she looks at the back of her hands to find them full of her previous lip prints and frowns.

A lightbulb goes off and then she’s turning to Eddie, cupping his face in soft hands and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then a little higher up. Then his jaw. All until no colour apart from his furious blush is appearing on his face.

She checks her reflection, smiles, and adds that lipstick to the ‘keep’ pile too.

A deeper shade of red is next and the process continues— using Eddies face as her personal blotting sheet.

Twenty five minutes later and Eddie has just about sunk into the couch cushions, completely blissed out and feeling a little drunk. He has a wonky, lovesick grin on his face and his eyes feel heavy as he happily plays guinea pig for her little experiment— his skin a marbled pattern of reds and pinks from his hairline, right down to his collarbone and beginning spread to his chest.

“Sorry, Eds.” She manages to mumble as she focuses on applying the next shade.

“Only three more.”

He needs to buy her more lipstick.

[hellmastereddie]

STOP TAGGING X READER WHEN ITS AN OC OMFGG

[hellmastereddie]

[hellmastereddie]

wow babe you’re really good at staying up incredibly late and barely sleeping every night

[hellmastereddie]

freak in the sheets as well as in most other locations

[hellmastereddie]

𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗡𝗦𝗢𝗡

june baby [multi-chapter, 80k] if it barks [multi-chapter, 41k] is it getting too much? [2k] a thread of time [16k] our ghost [22k] project kiss me stupid [5k] a new campaign [3k] too much [3k] was that so hard? [3k] a quest for bed [3k] it's a date [4k] love bites [20k] long island iced tea [3k] dark matter [4k] something extra [9k] bruise of the year [3k] sick body, sick smile [5k] sick sounds [5k] something sweeter [2k]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ untitled fics

[hellmastereddie]

𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer. 

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper. 

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey." 

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire. 

"Yeah?" he asks fondly. 

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last. 

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable. 

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you. 

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?" 

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over." 

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said. 

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe. 

"Do you like my socks?" 

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?" 

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too." 

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed. 

"Not much. Why?" 

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole. 

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles." 

"Sorry, sweetheart." 

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh." 

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy. 

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder. 

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him. 

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks. 

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you." 

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?" 

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe. 

"Will you help me get to bed?" 

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket. 

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me." 

"I'm tired," you say. 

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone. 

"And we'll have a hug?" 

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up. 

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor. 

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his. 

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking. 

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow. 

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly. 

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?" 

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you." 

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions. 

"You don't?" he asks gently. 

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care. 

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom." 

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek. 

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on. 

He puts you on the end of the bed. 

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around. 

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages." 

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs. 

"Stuck," you mumble. 

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go." 

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?" 

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?" 

"I think this part will be easier." 

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants. 

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now. 

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips. 

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward. 

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him. 

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says. 

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do. 

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug." 

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his. 

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen. 

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance. 

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable. 

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down. 

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close. 

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you." 

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple. 

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble. 

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze. 

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks. 

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie." 

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck. 

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep. 

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?" 

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home. 

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?" 

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again. 

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs. 

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest. 

"You were great. I missed sober you, though." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers. 

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory. 

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk." 

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it. 

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe." 

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡

[hellmastereddie]

[hellmastereddie]

Eddie Munson will always ask after you tell him you're pregnant, “Is it mine?” It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, but that he’s got to lighten the mood.

The first time Eddie does it you yell at him and he just laughed and tells you that he’s fucking you. He then kisses your belly all over and is convinced that he can hear your baby move. (You tell him there’s no fucking way but he won’t listen.)

The second time Eddie gets you pregnant, you’re annoyed because you’ve been so busy being a wife and mother that it feels obnoxious to even insinuate that you have time to cheat. Luckily for him, all he has to do is give you a passionate kiss for you to stop being angry.

The third time he says it, you smile. You knew it was coming, and he finally explained why he does it. So, now you find it endearing. He’s even more gentle with his kisses this time around. He literally cries as he kisses you and whispers so many sweet nothings that it brings tears to your eyes.

Eddie Munson loves being a dad with all his heart. However, even he knows his limits, and 3 kids are more than enough. Jk you’d have to beg him get a vasectomy. Dude is determined to have as many rugrats as possible. 

[hellmastereddie]

[hellmastereddie]

[hellmastereddie]

sure let’s ask the girl with the weird dreams and the big heart

[hellmastereddie]

i don’t know if any of y’all are familiar with this trend on tiktok , where people are having their divorced mothers call their ex-husbands to randomly say goodnight, but im obsessed. i am in dire need of some ex-husband!eddie with this trope(?) because its just TOO GOOD!!

like can you imagine like you and eddie were highschool sweethearts who got married young and had kids and then ended in a bitter divorce but y’all are still lowkey obsessed with and in love with each other. now your kids are teenagers and they convince you to do this prank on him and you agree, all in good fun right? but secretly you hope it leads to something maybe a little rekindling iykwim?? and of course eddie is still not-so-secretly in love with you so he practically jumps at the chance to get back with you even if its just for one night (or maybe more??)!!

UGHH 😩 ex-husband! eddie is my weakness and would love if someone more talented than me could bring this idea to life !!

[hellmastereddie]

Eddie Munson says “FUCK ICE & FUCK TRUMP!”

[hellmastereddie]

Eddie Munson is THE king of aftercare! No one can tell me otherwise. Okay, imagine:

You always had bad boyfriends, no aftercare at all, just straight to bed without cuddling, that’s it.

Now you’re dating Eddie Munson. And he‘s nothing like that.

Not only that he‘s SO good in bed, making sure you cum at least three times before he even thinks about cumming himself, no he’s also amazing with aftercare.

You wanna get up to get yourself a towel when Eddie grabs your hand gently, pulling you towards his chest with a raised brow.

"What do you think you’re doing?“ his lips meet with your bare, hot skin right underneath your ear.

"Getting a towel?“ you look at him, obviously confused.

That comment only made his brow raise even more, a low chuckle escaping his lips before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He’s up within seconds "you stay here, I’ll take care of you. A hot towel and a hot chocolate?“ you nod slowly, clearly surprised by his genuine care about you. Something you weren’t used to until now.

And just like that he‘s gone, getting a hot towel along with a hot towel and marshmallows. He cleans you up, gives you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxershorts and the best part? He is the one dressing you up too.

After that you both cuddle and talk about how it was, what you liked and what you maybe didn’t like- not what HE liked, what YOU liked, taking mental notes on what turns you on so he could use it for the next time.

EDDIE CARES SO MUCH AND HE‘S THE BEST IDC

[hellmastereddie]

just a heads up to my fellow writers out there that AO3 is currently fighting off bots commenting on people’s works to tell them that AO3 will delete their fics “due to the works being deprecated”, and the deletion will affect their accounts unless the authors delete the fics themselves first. IT IS A SCAM. AO3 will NOT delete your works. please do NOT fall for these bots!

I’ve been told the reason why these bots are doing this is due to copyright infringement issue where they’re trying to steal your works (possibly to train AI but this is just a guess) ‼️‼️‼️and once you deleted your fics, it will be either very difficult or impossible for you to claim ownership of your own fics when they were already deleted.‼️‼️‼️

a reminder that AO3 will never contact you through your comments section (in case they claim to be one of the moderators). AO3 will only contact you through your email address which you use to register your account, and it will be from AO3’s official handle. not some sketchy ass @

so if you get a comment telling you you should “delete your works to protect your account because AO3 is doing blah blah blah” report that comment. don’t delete your works.

PLEASE DO NOT FALL FOR THESE SCAM.

AO3 IS NOT DELETING WORKS.

DO NOT DELETE YOUR WORKS JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE CLAIMS THEY KNOW SOMETHING.

[hellmastereddie]

I think Eddie would be really into “breaking the seal” when out drinking with his girlfriend (reader).

Not in a piss kink way but just about control. I can see him being like “no no no baby you don’t wanna break the seal yet.” and then just keep her close🫣

Not to be too loud on main, but, from what I know, this technically is a form of piss kink. But, hey, I’m not mad at it😏I love writing the freak in Eddie 'The Freak' Munson.

Just so you know I’m not just spouting shit, I’ve read fics like this in the past (actually with Eddie🤭—and I mean like 2022-past, so don’t ask me what they were because I have no fucking clue lol) and I also looked it up to confirm. Here’s what urban dictionary says:

To piss kink or not to piss kink... That is the question...

Fuck it, let's do a little😈as a treat...

Masterlist

Warning: no actual pissing on anyone, everyone lower your guns🙌it's just a power-play, holding, Eddie gets off on making you squirm in his lap, public stuff, alcohol consumption, written quickly - forgive any errors, don't know how long this is - I wrote it in tumblr (I know, brave of me)

It all started five minutes ago when you whispered into Eddie's ear, telling him you'll be right back, that you just need to use the restroom real quick. Instead of letting you off is his lap and patting your butt as you made your way through the busy bar to the facilities like he usually would, his grip only tightened, pulling you flush to him, your back against his warm chest.

You couldn't help the giggle that tumbled past your lips at his greedy affection, but when he still didn't let you go, you turned your head, letting your eyes slide to the side as you tried to meet your boyfriend's darkened gaze. With you so close, he used the opportunity to nuzzle into your cheek, pressing wet kisses to the smooth skin.

"Eddie, I gotta go. I'll be right back," you chuckled softly, trying to avoid interrupting the flow of the conversation happening around you between your friends.

"Mm, no," he grunted, nosing your cheek harder with a barely contained ferality you were all too familiar with.

Thankfully, the bar was so loud, especially with your table stationed so closely to the speakers, and your friends were already yelling to be heard, your little disagreement with Eddie was going completely unnoticed. That didn't mean you were happy about having to barter for your freedom, though.

"Eds, if you let me go, I'll give you a little treat," you tried, half-joking, half-serious.

After all, your boyfriend could often be swayed by many things: food, fluttering lashes and a 'pretty please', or, your favorite, sexual favors. But he seemed determined to get what he wanted tonight---nothing was working.

Now that he's held you in place for a while, halting your numerous attempts to escape to the restroom, ignoring your logical complaints, you've been reduced to pleading.

"Please, Eddie, it's not funny anymore, I really have to go!" you whine, practically dancing in his lap.

"And I'm not laughing, sweets. Told you, you're not allowed to go. If you go, then you'll have to get up every five minutes and leave me," he argues blithely, reminding you what happens when you 'break the seal' after drinking as much alcohol as you all have tonight.

"Yeah, but I'll come back, I swear! Please, just let me go!"

The arm that's been wrapped around you the whole night snakes tighter around your waist, constricting you until you're forced to squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can. A whimper emanates from your throat when you feel the large palm of his other hand, still cold from his almost-permanent grip around his beer bottle, "accidentally" press into your lower abdomen, applying pressure to your bladder until you squirm in his lap.

Tears prick at your eyes; your mind melts with only one coherent thought left standing: this isn't fair.

"But I don't wanna be left alone. You wanna leave me alone, honey?" he taunts, fully aware what you're answer is, but you respond nonetheless.

Fervently shaking your head, you let out a stuttering breath, "N-No, no, I don't wan' you to be alone. You can come with me!" you try, feeling uncomfortably full and losing your grip on reality as his ringed hand presses into you until you feel the same kind of tingles you feel when he's between your legs, working you over the edge.

Another whimper tumbles past your glossy lips as your eyes flick to the other's at the table, still completely enthralled in their own loud conversations.

"Don't look at them, look at me," he orders gruffly, pressing into your abdomen again until you let out an unwilling moan.

He's so close to you, especially now that you've turned your head back to him, that he can hear your sweet sounds loud and clear. His hands all over you have you squirming, ass rubbing against his hard cock, gifting him the most amazing pleasure he's ever felt in such a public place

"Please, Eddie, please, God, just come with me."

Your boyfriend chuckles as he watches a tear roll down your cheek, your lashes wet with their earnest attempts at stifling the salty rivulets. He blows gently on your skin, sending a chill down your spine as the warm liquid cools.

"But I don't wanna get up, wanna stay right here with you," he pouts, relishing in the whine you let out as he presses into you again.

You're so confused by the sensations you're feeling because you know you have to go to the bathroom so bad, but every time he presses his palm into your pelvis you feel all floaty, lightheaded, and tingly---exactly like the high you feel right before Eddie brings you to the peak, making you cum so hard your eyes cross and every brain function shuts down.

As good his hands feel, your restraint is slipping and you'll be damned if you make a mess all over him in the middle of a bar. It's less so about him and more about the mortification that'll come from everyone seeing you wet yourself in public. Eddie would survive---he'd probably like it, the jackass.

Ignoring the way he's slowly gyrating his hips into your ass, subtly thrusting up against you while forcing you down in perfect time, you grab his forearms, sinking your nails into his pale skin.

He hisses at the pleasurable pain, but that's not why you did it---you're trying to ground yourself enough to give one last, hopefully convincing, plea.

"Eddie, please! Please, I need to go, I'm gonna-"

You don't finish your sentence because the embarrassment of what he's doing to you warms your face. Even though he's the one forcing you to hold it until you're crying, you still feel mortified having to warn him just what will happen if he doesn't let you go now.

Unfortunately, Eddie finishes your sentence for you.

"Piss yourself? Aw, poor baby," he pouts at you, a grin pulling at his lips, saturating his fake-sympathy with condescension and hunger. He knows exactly what he's doing to you and he's loving it. "You really need to go that bad?"

Gripping him harder than ever, you squeeze your thighs impossibly tighter. "Yes! Yes, Eddie, please! Please! Don't make me...p-please, don't make me-" you interrupt your own words with hiccuping breaths as you try to beg him not to make you wet yourself in public.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on, finally relenting his pressure on your bladder and loosening his arms until you can slide off of him. But he doesn't let you run off yet, his grip tightens around your forearm when you try.

Practically dancing on the spot, you cross your legs at your ankles. Still worried about how this all looks, you glance around to check if anyone has noticed and it seems no one has. Tugging on Eddie's iron-clad grip, you soon regret it when he shoots you a reprimanding glare and a quiet, "Stop."

Turning back around, Eddie gets the attention of Steve, who's closest to him on the other side of the table, and leans down, yelling over the music. "Hey, I'm gonna take her to the bathroom! Will you get us another round?"

Steve nods, and you barely register what Eddie requested in the back of your head. Another round? You feel done, but knowing your boyfriend, he's not done yet. Not with you, that is.

"Alright, let's go, baby," he yells, walking in front and maintaining his hold on you as he guides you through the crowd of people, toward the single-stall bathrooms.

Once you arrive, Eddie knocks on the door to the women's room and, because it's too loud to hear if anyone said anything, he promptly tries the handle. When it moves unencumbered by a lock, he turns to you, nodding.

As you're about to rush past him to go in, he doesn't release your arm, instead tugging you to him until your back is pressed against his front, once again. Another whimper peels from your throat when he spreads his other palm on your lower abdomen, giving you one last push of pressure. He chuckles maniacally in your ear as you squirm, your ass accidentally brushing against his hard-on.

"Pretty baby," he compliments, kissing your cheek before shoving you forward, another whine escaping you at all the push-and-pull he's putting you through---both figuratively and literally.

Before you close the door all the way, you make sure to send a pout his way. "You're mean," you accuse, bristling at the unapologetic smirk on his face.

All he does is shrug, confidently leaning toward your face in the crack of the door. "Sorry, baby, you just sound so cute when you squeal for me."

Shock covers your features as you slam the door in his smug face. The audacity of your damn boyfriend. If "piece-of-work" had a picture in the dictionary, it'd be a picture of Eddie 'The Freak' Munson.

A/N: Lowkey, I'm not gonna write it because that'd be too much, but I think it'd be hot if he took you into the bathroom and fucked you so hard against the sink, your ass sitting on the cool porcelain, back against the mirror, legs around his hips as he vigorously rubs your clit until you squirt all over him---you're crying and he's just having the time of his fucking life because he's a nasty biatch. But then it's like, you're at a bar, so how's that gonna work lmfao. Plus, the logistics of squirting don't really work like that, like I'm pretty sure you have to empty your bladder first. And it wouldn't really be squirt (lower your guns, guys).

Also, breaking the seal is so real because I was on vacation drinking lava flows (fucking amazing drink btw) and I literally had to get out of the pool every five minutes for like an hour once I went to the restroom the first time. It was so fucking annoying lmfao