Omg I Luv Ur Writing!!! Is It Possible To Get A Story Thats Like, Ghost (or Whomever) Is Stretching And

Saylors favourites

This is not pretty looking yet and it has lived in my drafts forever and I hate scrolling down forever to find it in order to add new stuff to it so I’m posting this now before it is presentable to save myself the inconvenience, cheers.

Ps there are a lot of fics that should be on here that I intend to add that I haven’t done yet due to The fact that It’s been buried in my drafts

Jake

Old flame @gretavanmoon

Vigilance @gretavangroupie

Covet @jakeyt

You make it easy @jake-kiszkas-smirk

A night of revelry @threadandlace

Body talks @farfromthehomelands

Imperfect moments @abeautylives

Roommates @daisyful-gvf

Renaissance man Part two @indigostardustchords

Never want to fall asleep @neverwanttofallasleep

Paris @lightmylove-gvf

The master @lightmylove-gvf

Hands to yourself @sinsofstardust

Wilt @gretavangroupie

Trending @zm-gvf

Carpe noctem @alwaysonthemend

Spit fire @builtbybrokenbells

Cream and sugar @sacredthefran

Behind closed doors @anthemofgvf

Roommates @daisyful-gvf

Amongst the stars @samkiszkasfacialhair

Steam @gretasmokerising

Learn to leave a room @garbagevanfleet

Anything for you @themoreyou-love

Sammy

Cigarette smoke and a vibrator remote @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Storms call for distractions @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Locked out @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Bet on it @tlexx

Picasso @builtbybrokenbells

Pink lemonade @garbagevanfleet

Seven @garbagevanfleet

Peach pit @garbagevanfleet

Summer in the city @gretasmokerising

Fantasy @capturethechaos

Josh

The professor @gretavanbear

Endless summer @anthemofgvf

Danny

Bears bugs and a thunderstorm @builtbybrokenbells

Stroke me @hyperfixated-gvf

Muse @gretavangroupie

On my fucking knees 🧎‍♀️

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in. 

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home. 

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else. 

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry. 

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar. 

You’re glad you’d left that life behind. 

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass. 

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks. 

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead. 

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.” 

You pour him a glass regardless. 

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh. 

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him. 

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down. 

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home. 

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them. 

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood. 

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition. 

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres. 

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep. 

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace. 

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces. 

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for. 

“They’re alright.” 

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm. 

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up. 

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head. 

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer. 

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause: 

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost. 

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment. 

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral. 

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says. 

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway. 

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you. 

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs. 

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles. 

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything. 

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back –  was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign. 

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any. 

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips. 

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?” 

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him. 

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up. 

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time. 

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain. 

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth. 

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base. 

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head. 

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring. 

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it. 

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster. 

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you. 

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in. 

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair. 

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust. 

“Go ahead.” You coax. 

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement. 

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain. 

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh. 

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact. 

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you. 

“A-Ah! Simon, y–” 

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.” 

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood. 

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing. 

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you. 

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple. 

He slowly removes the mask. 

The balaclava follows soon after. 

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow. 

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid. 

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man. 

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him. 

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

permanent taglist: @saintbedelia @tusk89 @cactuswaterscactusfields @lexloon

since i've only written for star wars previously, if you're on this list and want to be moved to a character specific one instead, i've added the option on my form!

join my taglist!

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III (2023)

Marcel RIEDER (1862-1942) - Jeunes femmes sur la lande au clair de lune

I came across the HQ, extreme close-up of the hand and couldn't help myself 💜

Light On

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

Simon Riley/female reader Single mom, neighbors fic. Fics are listed in chronological order

Simon discovers something unexpected Simon realizes where you live Simon gives you a hand Simon comes over for dinner Simon eavesdrops Simon spends time in the garden Johnny learns his LT's secret Simon helps you out last minute Simon gets a phone call Simon accompanies you to the park Simon steps in Simon answers the phone in the middle of the night Simon learns something about you You miss your neighbor Simon's choice has consequences

Yours, Half-Truthfully

A Sam Kiszka x f!OC fic

Synopsis: Sam never had an issue with girls before. Yes, I watched them come and go for a while since I was his best friend, but the most recent one seemed like a keeper. So when Sam started acting weird when she was brought up, I knew something was off. You can’t know him as long as I have and not notice it - but apparently his brothers didn’t. So it was up to me to figure out how to fix him before the family vacation he was supposed to take with her so he stops being weird around them. And me.

18+

Coming soon ◡̈

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Safe hands

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Sex has never been a pleasant experience for you. Selfish partners, anxiety, and pain have all ruined something that you should enjoy. You’re convinced there’s something wrong with you, but Eddie is determined to prove otherwise. 6k.

18+ minors dni: soft smut, oral (f receiving), mention of oral (m receiving), fingering, protected piv, praise kink (because of course there is), reader has anxiety around sex and there’s mentions of pain during intercourse. Pet names used in place of Y/N.

A/N: I know I should be working on the dozen other wips I have gathering dust, but this self-indulgent idea popped into my head and I couldn’t shake it out. So enjoy this very soft and tender smut 🖤

You’d known for a while that this day was coming. As much as you’d hoped there’d be someway to avoid it, it was inevitable that you and Eddie would find yourselves here.

It’s frosty outside. You can see the tiny sparkles of it decorating the edges of the window in Eddie’s room. The last cold snap of those long dark months, winter clinging on by its fingertips, refusing to give over to the warmth and softness of spring.

But it’s hot in the trailer. The air is humid and heavy, heat clinging to your skin, despite the layers that have been stripped away.

Eddie burns over you. Like when the sun disappeared from the sky he’d swallowed it whole, the star glowing white hot in his chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers against your neck.

Your own chest feels tight, his words spoken with such soft adoration you could weep. He raises his head enough to flash you that boyish grin that you love, his lips stretched wide with it. Your fingertips trace over the dimple in his cheek.

Eddie’s hands can’t keep still. He grabs at you greedily, but still gentle, rough palms gliding over smooth skin. Cups the weight of your breasts, kneading over the cotton of your bra. He’d pulled your jumper up over your head as soon as the bedroom door was closed, giggling at the static crackling in your hair. His shirt was next to go, followed by your jeans, left in a crumpled heap on the carpet.

His pillows are soft beneath your head, your body pressed into the mattress by his weight laying over you. Thighs parted so he could slot himself between. There’s a heat blooming between your legs, made worse when the hard length that strains beneath his boxers catches there with each slow roll of his hips. As the pleasure grows, so too does your anxiety.

“There’s something wrong with you.”

The snarling voice is so clear, you find yourself turning your head, glancing around Eddie’s room. Of course there’s no one here but the two of you.

But you can still hear him. See the curl of his lips when he’d spat those words with such disdain.

Your last partner had initially thought he’d won the jackpot.

A girl who was more than happy to get on her knees for him, put his pleasure above all else, expecting nothing in return. But of course he’d wanted more from you. More than you could give him.

You’d grit your teeth and tried to relax, tried so desperately to let it happen. After a few tension filled minutes of awkward shuffling and frustrated grunts, he’d rolled off of you, snatching up his clothes from your bedroom floor.

You’d cried. Apologised. Pleaded with him to stay.

“There’s something wrong with you.” He’d said, as he slammed the door closed behind him.

“Hey.”

You blink. Pull your gaze away from the bedroom door, back to Eddie’s face. He hovers over you, eyes round with concern, brows pinched in the middle.

“Are you okay?” He murmurs.

“Yeah. M’fine.” You lie.

“You sure?” Eddie smoothes his hand across your brow, sweeping down to cup your cheek.

“Do you want to stop?”

Yes.

“No. Of course not.” You reply.

You pull him in by his shoulders, pressing his lips to yours. It’s a poor attempt at a distraction. You just can’t bear to have Eddie looking at you like that. Like he can see beneath the mask you’ve been so careful to keep in place.

You kiss him deeper, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Eddie makes a surprised sound when your hand snakes down between your bodies, reaching for the tent in his underwear.

“H-hang on. Just stop for a second, okay?” Eddie says. He pushes your hand away.

“What did I do?” You whisper.

“Nothing. It’s just.. sweetheart, you’re shaking. And you look like you’re gonna burst into tears.”

Shame twists your guts. You can feel the heat prickling your eyes, Eddie’s features blurring.

“I’m fine.” You say unconvincingly.

“Look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Eddie says. He sits up on his knees, putting distance between you.

“I want to.” You say quickly.

“Doesn’t really seem like it. You keep looking at the door like you wanna fucking bolt.” Eddie says sourly.

He knows he shouldn’t snap at you. But it’s so hard when all of his insecurities and fears are rearing their heads once again. He’d convinced himself things might be different this time.

You weren’t using him, not after cheap weed or satiating some curiosity about whether the rumours about the freak were true. You were sweet, patient, seemed so genuinely interested in all the things that made Eddie Eddie.

But now you looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here with him.

Your quiet sob makes his chest ache. You clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds, tears steadily leaking down your cheeks and wetting his pillows.

“Hey. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” Eddie says, that usual warmth returning to his voice. He takes your wrists and gently pulls you up, holding you to his chest as you cry.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? You know you can talk to me, right?” He says.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m ruining everything.” You sob.

“Shhhh. Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” Eddie cups your cheeks and tilts your head back, forcing you to look at him.

“Can you just talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head?” He pleads.

“I’m scared.” You admit quietly.

“What are you scared of?”

“Of.. of not being good, at all this.” You say, weakly waving your hand between your bodies.

“Of not being good enough at this for you.”

“Sweetheart, I really don’t think you need to worry about that.” Eddie says with a soft smile.

“I want you, I want to do this with you. If you’re not… experienced, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just figure things out as we go.”

You shake your head. He wasn’t getting it.

“N-no. It’s more than that. I - I can’t. I’ve never-.” Your breathing was now coming in quick pants, panic coursing through your veins. Your body trembles more violently.

“It’s alright, just breath.” Eddie says calmly.

“It hurts Eddie.”

“What hurts?”

“Sex. Every time I’ve had sex before it hurts. It’s like my body just won’t let me relax, I get so in my head and I go all tense.”

Eddie’s brows dart up in surprise, but now the words have started to flow out you’re powerless to stop them.

“The first time I thought it was normal. But then it just kept happening, every time. And some guys like it, y’know, they say it’s good that I’m tight, but it never feels good for me. And last time.. the last time I tried to do this with someone, I was so wound up, I just couldn’t. He couldn’t get it in. And I was trying to relax, and he was pushing and pushing and it’s like my body just wouldn’t let it happen. And so he left. He said there’s something wrong with me. And he’s right - I’m broken!”

Eddie’s been staring at you in horror. Jaw hanging slack, dark eyes owlish and glistening. When you stop speaking, losing yourself in more sobs, his jaw clenches tight, a deep frown on his face.

“Look at me. Sweetheart, look at me.” He orders firmly.

You sniffle, but comply, just managing to bear the heat of his stare.

“There is nothing wrong with you, you’re not broken. Fuck, I - I could kill that asshole for talking to you like that. I could kill everyone of those fuckers for not treating you right.”

“It’s not their fault.” You say weakly.

“Yes it is. Don’t defend them. It’s shouldn’t hurt sweetheart, it should feel good. God, you deserve to feel good.” He says softly. He kisses the corner of your mouth, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

Resting his forehead against yours, Eddie looks you in the eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything, okay? I’m happy to just lay here and hold you, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t know what you did right in your life to deserve Eddie Munson. This kind, gentle boy, who looks at you like you hung every star in the sky that glitters above the trailer.

“I want to.. y’know.” You whisper.

“Okay. Well we can, but let’s talk about it first yeah?”

You nod. Eddie moves to lay at your side, arms wrapped around your waist to pull you close.

“Has it ever been good?” He asks.

“No.” You admit.

“So no one’s ever made you cum?”

“No, they haven’t.”

Eddie clears his throat.

“Have you uh.. have you ever?”

Your cheeks burn with heat.

“I have.” You mumble against his chest, too embarrassed to look at him.

“But only on my own.”

“Okay, well that’s good. Definitely not broken.” Eddie smiles.

“When you’ve slept with people before, did you tell them what you like?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“They never asked.” You shrug.

Eddie sighs, his frown returning.

“Well that’s the problem. No two people are the same, right? You can’t just do the same thing with anyone and expect the same results. You have to take your time, figure out the person that you’re with.”

The heat between your legs is back. Your core throbs as Eddie murmurs to you, his hands stroking soothingly over your hips.

“Will you - can you do that?” You ask hesitantly.

“Of course I can sweetheart. If you want me to.” Eddie says softly.

“I do.”

Eddie nods, laying you down and resuming his previous position over you.

“We’ll go slow okay? I want you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You reply. It’s always so easy to say yes to him.

“Good girl.” Eddie smiles.

Your breath catches in your throat, another wave of arousal making your underwear damp.

“I - I like that.” You whisper, like it’s a secret.

“Yeah? You like when I call you my good girl?” Eddie says, his lips trailing a burning path down your neck.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“Noted.” Eddie grins.

You giggle, peering down as he moves to your chest, mouthing over the flesh spilling from the cups of your bra.

“Can I take this off?” He asks.

Your spine curls in permission, arched so he can reach a hand underneath you. Eddie makes quick work of unsnapping the hooks. You expect him to tear the garment away in a hurry like he did with your sweater.

Instead he hooks his fingers under the straps, kissing along your shoulders and arms as he slides them down. When it’s finally peeled away, Eddie groans, pupils blown as he takes in your bare chest.

“Perfect.” He says, so quietly it’s like he’s saying the words to himself.

“Can I kiss you here?” He murmurs, one finger tracing the swell of your breast.

“Please.”

He’s so gentle. Far slower than you anticipated. He takes his time, pressing kisses to your heated skin, his nose nuzzling in the valley between your breasts. When he moves up to swirl his tongue teasingly around the hardened bud of your nipple you whine, a high pitched keening sound from the back of your throat.

It could be minutes or hours, you’re not really sure. Time slows, losing all meaning as Eddie moves across your chest. His teeth graze one bud, nipping lightly.

“I like that.” You gasp, remembering his instructions to voice what pleases you.

He responds by doing it again, just a little harder.

Eddie shuffles lower on the bed, kissing the indents on your ribs left by your bra. He mouths over your stomach, tongue leaving a glistening trail. You’re shaking again, not from nerves this time, but from the anticipation. Each inch lower brings his mouth closer to where you want him.

“Eddie.” You whine. He looks up, his chin resting on your hip.

“Yeah baby?”

Your eyelids flutter at the new name, falling so easily from his lips, now red and swollen from his kisses.

“Please.” You beg.

“Please what? What do you need sweetheart?” He says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You squirm, body flushing hot, feeling too shy to voice your desire. But he knows without you saying a word.

“D’you want me to kiss you here?” He says, tracing a finger along the seam of your panties.

“Y-yes.” You squeak. Your hips buck, chasing his touch.

“Thank god. I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you since the moment we met.” He admits.

You raise your hips from the bed, an invitation for you to pull off your underwear. But despite being so keen himself, Eddie presses you back into the mattress.

He sinks to his knees at the end of the bed.

“Shuffle down a bit for me honey.” He instructs, his voice low and raspy with lust. He waits patiently as you move, but unsatisfied with your position takes hold of your ankles and pulls, until your ass is right at the edge, legs draped over his shoulders.

It starts at your ankles. Chaste kisses pressed to each one. Then your calves, one being loved on with his mouth, the other massaged with his large hands. It has the desired effect, relaxing you until you’re almost boneless. No longer worried about the weight of your legs on his shoulders, you let your muscles go limp, melting into the mattress.

At your thighs his kisses become hungrier, but he never increases his pace. Kissing up up up, nuzzling the round tip of his nose into the crease where your panties rest on your skin. When you feel the heat of his breath over the cotton that covers you, you whine his name once again.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, his lips brushing the fabric as he speaks.

“Doin’ so good for me.”

The kiss he leaves on your clit is dulled by the barrier of your underwear, but it’s still enough to have the heat in your belly increasing. The gentle warmth now the crackling beginnings of a fire.

“Can I take these off?” He says, still kissing the fabric, growing damper by the second from your arousal and his mouth.

“Please Eddie.” You whimper.

You hardly recognise your own voice, you’ve never sounded like this. So fucked out, so desperate, and he’s barely even touched you yet.

He leans back as he pulls on your panties, peeling them away from your slick skin and rolling them down your legs. When you’re bared to him, he lifts your legs back into their previous position.

“Remember, tell me what you like. And if you want to stop, we can.” Eddie says.

“Okay.” You whisper.

The first kiss to your bare skin has your toes curling.

It’s almost chaste, just a delicate peck to your bud. Eddie’s mouth falls open, his breath hot as it wafts over you. His tongue inches out, an experimental lick swiped up the seam of you. He flattens the muscle, dragging it slow, chocolate eyes trained on your face for a reaction. Your head falls back to the sheets, a shuddering moan tearing from your chest. You can feel the victorious smile he wear as he continues to lick at you.

He’s so slow with it. Not hesitant or unsure. No, it’s like he just wants to take his time, savour every drop of you that spills. He alternates between dancing his tongue through your folds, and sucking your clit into his mouth, pillowy soft lips sealed over you.

You want to tell him you like it, you want him to do it more, to never stop. But you’ve lost the ability to speak.

Not that it matters. Eddie seems to read your body better than anyone before, perhaps because he’s the first to try. His gaze never leave your face, intense eye contact as he waits for the hitches in your breath and the shaking of your thighs to guide him.

He’s groaning against your flesh, like it feels just as heavenly for him as it does for you. He grips your hips, blunt fingernails digging in as he pulls you down, smothering his face with your cunt.

Those flickering flames are now a raging inferno. It feels different than anything you’ve managed to achieve on your own. Your body is burning, lava coursing through your veins, white hot heat polling low in your belly.

“E-Eddie! I’m - I’m gonna-“ you gasp. You fist the bedsheets so hard it’s a wonder you don’t tear clean through them.

He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t change anything about his movements. He continues to suck on your clit with that same firm pressure, his hold on your hips turning bruising. When you dare a glance down you find his eyes still trained on you, fire burning behind them, flecks of gold in the brown that hasn’t yet been swallowed by his pupils.

It’s enough to push you over the edge. You give in, letting the flames engulf you, sure that when it’s over you’ll be nothing but a smoking pile of ash on the bed. Your thighs clench, squeezing around Eddie’s head, but he still doesn’t stop. Languidly licking at you until you’re whining from the overstimulation, no longer rocking your hips against his face but trying to twist away from him.

He smiles up at you, slick shining on his chin and cheeks. Lips ruby red and swollen.

“How was that baby?” He asks, soothing his hands over your twitching thighs.

You’re panting, still not sure you can speak. You nod weakly, and Eddie laughs. He clambers back onto the bed, pulling your pliant body with him, until the two of you are once again settled on his pillows.

His kisses are soft and sweet, tasting of you. Eddie cradles your face in his palms, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, while you tangle your legs with his, determined to be closer.

“You’re - you’re so good at that.” You say breathlessly.

Eddie chuckles, smiling almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm of your life.

The firm length of him is trapped between your bodies, pressed to your hip.

“I can do the same for you now, if you want.” You offer.

“That’s a very tempting offer sweetheart.” Eddie says softly.

“But I’m not done with you yet.”

You frown.

“But I already came.” You reply.

“I know. But I’ve got some making up to do. So I think you deserve another, don’t you?”

Eddie kisses your temple, the hand on your hip skimming down to cup between your legs. You’re still sensitive, jolting when his thumb brushes over your clit. But you can feel it, beneath the sensitivity, that heat still lingers.

“You deserve to feel good, don’t you baby?” He whispers into the juncture of your neck, pressing kisses there as the rough pads of his fingers swirl over you.

“Y-yeah.” You say shakily.

“Say it.” He gently commands.

You swallow the lump in your throat, his ministrations so distracting you struggle to arrange your thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“I deserve to feel good.” You whisper.

“Yeah you do. Good girl.” Eddie grins.

There’s something so unfamiliar about his touches.

They’re not hurried, not impatient, like every boy before him just looking to get you wet enough so they could take what they wanted. Eddie’s not touching you for his own benefit. He’s studying you, figuring you out just like he promised he would. Between sweet kisses he watches your face, smiling to himself when your breath shudders and your eyes roll back.

“When you touch yourself how many fingers do you put in?” He asks. The question could sound filthy coming from anyone else, but from Eddie it’s caring, like he doesn’t want to push you too far.

“Just one.” You whisper.

He nods. His fingers are still collecting your slick, bringing it up to rub frustratingly slow circles on your clit. Not enough to get you off, just keeping the embers burning.

“You want me to put one in?” He says, nuzzling his nose against your jaw.

At this point you’d usually freeze, the panic setting in. But you feel so safe, you find yourself nodding before you really register what you’re agreeing to.

“Okay. Just give me a sec.” He says.

Eddie pulls his hand away, chuckling when you whine in frustration. A kiss is pecked on the tip of your nose as his hand reaches blindly into the drawer of his nightstand. The items inside rattle for a moment while he searches, until he pulls out a small plastic bottle.

You cringe at the sight of the lube. Your ex lamented using it.

“You should be wet enough without it.”

“I’m sorry. That you have to use that.” You mumble, feeling your cheeks burn with shame.

Eddie shushes you softly.

“What are you apologising for sweet girl? I just don’t want to hurt you.” He says.

He squeezes a small amount onto his fingers, warming the gel between them. When his hand reaches back down between your legs his fingers glide smoothly, your arousal and the lube providing a satisfying wetness.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Eddie says.

You’re so grateful for his patience, for the way he keeps checking in and reassuring you. You know you’re in safe hands.

As the tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, you feel your muscles clench involuntarily. Your teeth grit together painfully, preparing yourself for the inevitable pain.

But it doesn’t come. Eddie slides in slowly, and your walls accommodate him easily. As he reaches the second knuckle you exhale the breath you were holding.

“Keep talking to me baby. Let me know you’re okay.” He instructs.

“I’m good.” You reply.

He’s all the way in now. Eddie curls his finger, exploring inside you, his thumb keeping that torturously slow pace on your clit. You feel him brush a spot within you, somewhere you’ve never felt another’s touch before. A gasp escapes you, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“There.” You exclaim.

“Yeah?” Eddie grins.

“That’s the spot?”

“Uh huh.” You sigh.

He presses more firmly against it and you keen, hips bucking into his hand again.

The steady motion of his hand, his finger rubbing insistently over that sweet spot, and his gentle touches on your bud. It all feels so good, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

“M-more.” You beg.

“You want another?”

“Please.”

Eddie’s ring finger presses in alongside his middle. It’s more of a stretch now, that familiar sting as you try to let him in. But it’s over in a second, the pain replaced with a pleasant fullness.

“That’s it. Just breath. You’re doing so good.” Eddie murmurs.

Your thighs are shaking again. You can feel the coil in your belly winding tight, each slow thrust of his fingers moving you closer and closer to the precipice.

“I can feel you squeezing me baby.” He says in awe.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

A friend once told you the French call orgasms ‘la petite mort’ - little death. You never really understood it, until now.

Those flames swallow you whole once more, and you’re so absorbed in the pleasure you could be dying in Eddie’s arms, lost to everything but him. And when he kisses you, he breathes life back into your lungs.

As the ringing in your ears subsides you can hear him, whispering praises into your hair as you come down. It’s like a prayer, those saccharine words recited with such adoration.

Eddie’s hand retreats, and you feel the loss instantly, that delicious fullness now missing.

Your chest heaves, lungs screaming as you gulp down mouthfuls of humid air, every nerve in your body quivering like a like wire.

“Oh my god.” You whimper. Your heavy lids peek open, finding the boy looking over you.

“Wasn’t too much was it?” He asks hesitantly. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, still wet fingers tapping a sticky drumbeat on your thigh.

“No, it wasn’t too much.” You say quietly.

‘It wasn’t enough’ your heart screams.

‘Give me more. Give me everything.’

Reassured by your words Eddie breaks out into a smile, his rounded cheeks glowing a rosy pink. You love when he smiles like that. The crinkles at the edges of his eyes deepening, that dimple making a reappearance.

“You’re so pretty.” You confess, leaning up to press your lips to the divot in his cheek.

Eddie falters. His cheeks flush deeper, brows shooting up under his bangs. He grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging it across his face in a poor attempt to conceal his grin.

“What?” You giggle, poking at his sides.

“No ones ever called me pretty before.” He says. He’s still smiling, attempting to be humorous, but there’s a tremor in his voice. Like he can’t quite believe your words.

“Well they should, because you are.”

“Thank you baby.” Eddie says, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Say it.” You whisper, repeating his own words back to him. There’s a hint of teasing, but beneath it you’re deadly serious. You want him to know just how special he is.

“I - I’m pretty.” He mumbles against your skin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” You tease.

Eddie huffs, grinning and blushing as he raises his head.

“I’m pretty.” He repeats.

“Good boy.” You smirk.

Eddie groans, dragging his palm down his face.

“God. You’re gonna kill me.” He says.

“Not before you sleep with me I hope.”

It’s bolder than you’ve ever dared be in a situation like this. But despite the vulnerability, being completely bared to someone physically and emotionally, you know you have nothing to fear from Eddie.

“Oh. I - sweetheart, I don’t think we should...”

Eddie realises his mistake as soon as he opens his mouth. You recoil, pulling away from him like his rejection was delivered as a stinging slap to your cheek. He watches as your eyes turn glassy and your bottom lip trembles.

“No! Baby no, I didn’t mean.. it’s not that I don’t want to!” He says.

“It’s fine.” You reply quickly, the wobble in your voice suggesting it’s anything but.

Desperately Eddie grabs your arms and pulls you close before you can climb out of his bed.

“Sweetheart. Please listen to me. I want to sleep with you, of course I do. Christ, I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock here.” He says.

“It’s just, we’ve already done so much. And this was about you, not me. I don’t want you to think all of this just so I could get something out of it. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

“I want to make you feel good too.” You sniffle. You blink back the tears, refusing to let them fall.

“Please Eddie. I want you.”

Eddie’s head is telling him this is a bad idea. He should insist that you clean off and get some sleep, this can all wait for another day when your thoughts aren’t clouded by a post orgasm haze. But his heart, and perhaps another body part, are saying something different. You’re here in his bed, practically begging for him. Who was Eddie to resist such a sweet temptation?

“Okay. I’ve got you honey.”

When he kisses you, your lips part eagerly, letting his tongue snake its way in. It’s a slow waltz of two muscles, wet and warm, with so much tenderness.

When your hand reaches to touch him, Eddie doesn’t push you away this time. He moans into your mouth as his boxers are pushed down, louder still when your hand wraps around him.

You feel more confident with this part. You know that you’re good at this, have touched enough boys as a distraction from them touching you to know exactly what to do to get them to fall apart.

Your fist squeezes around Eddie’s cock, hot and heavy in your hand. The movements start slow, an echo of the way he touched you. Up and down his length, feeling it twitch in your palm. Your thumb swipes over the flushed head, smearing the beads of pre that are steadily leaking from the slit.

Eddie groans, hips bucking, thrusting himself into you fist. You pepper kisses along his jaw, down to his neck where you can suck a small bruise onto pale skin.

No one before him has been so vocal. Every soft sigh, every grunt, every strained word of praise that he utters goes straight to your core.

“F-fuck. Baby, you gotta s-stop.” Eddie stammers.

You cease your movements immediately.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. But if you keep that up this is all gonna be over too fast.” He admits sheepishly.

You flop back onto the pillows with a satisfied grin, watching as Eddie sits up on his knees.

He reaches over you back into the drawer. Retrieving a condom, he hastily tears the foil wrapper with his teeth, rolling it down over himself. He’s settled between your legs now, squeezing more lube into his hand and giving himself a few light teasing strokes. You watch in awe at the way he touches himself, making a mental note of his speed and pressure, paying attention to what he likes.

That familiar anxiety is beginning to churn in your guts. Even in his own large fist, Eddie’s cock looks huge. A longer than average length, but it’s the thickness that has moths stirring in your stomach. There was no way this wasn’t going to hurt.

He shuffles to a better position, the head of his cock lightly pressing on your clit. As he swipes down through your sticky folds, you feel your muscles clench involuntarily.

“Hey.” Eddie says softly, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts.

“Eyes on me baby. Just breathe, and keep looking at me.” He instructs.

You nod, throat too tight for words.

You focus on those chocolate puddles of eyes, the way they never leave your face, even as his head catches at your entrance. There’s so much warmth behind them, a tenderness and care you’re not used to feeling directed your way.

Eddie presses in slowly.

The burn is intense, despite all of his hard work to get you prepared. Your brows pinch, and in less than a second it’s gone. Eddie’s pulled out, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

“D’you wanna stop?” He asks.

“No. Keep going, please.” You manage to whisper.

He tries again. As Eddie rolls his hips forwards you exhale a deep breath, like you’re trying to blow away all the tension in your body. His head pops inside, and you just keep breathing like he told you to. A few seconds later and he’s halfway in.

The sting is already subsiding. All you can feel is that same fullness, more intense than with his fingers, and more delicious. Hooking your ankles over his lower back, you pull him closer. Encouraging him to slide all the way in, one final push having him bottoming out.

“Oh shit.” Eddie whines. His teeth are gritted, heavy eyelids fluttering.

“You’re so warm.”

“Y-you’re so big.” You squeak in reply.

His cock twitches at your words.

“S’not too much?” He asks.

“No. S’perfect. You’re perfect Eddie.” You smile.

He flashes you a grin. His body falls over yours, forearms resting on the pillow either side of your head to keep himself propped up. The new angle forces him deeper than you even thought possible. Your body feels like it’s stretched to its limits, but it’s working, your walls wrapping around him snuggly like they’re welcoming him home.

Eddie nuzzles his nose against yours, warm breath fanning across your face when he sighs in pleasure.

“You can move now, if you want to.” You murmur.

With your permission granted, Eddie rolls his hips back. Pulling out halfway only to sink back into your heat. You can feel him everywhere: the smooth glide of his cock pressing into you, his hands in your hair, bellies damp with sweat stuck together, his lips ghosting over yours. Each slow thrust has the wiry curls at his base stroking over your clit, swollen with all the attention it’s received.

Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you dot kisses across his skin like silent thank yous.

“You okay?” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, meaning it completely. You’ve never felt so cared for.

No ones ever had you like this. You’re used to harsh unforgiving thrusts, quick fucks that left you sore and disappointed. Everything about Eddie is so different. His languid pace, the careful attention he pays you, the intimacy of him kissing your temple as you squeeze around him.

“God. Baby, you’re doing so good f’me. I love the way you feel, s’like heaven.” Eddie slurs, sounding more than a little pussy drunk.

That four letter word spins around and around in your mind like a carousel. It’s much too soon for it to be spoken in any other context. Your relationship was still so new. A tiny bud just beginning to awaken in the sunshine, unfurling its delicate petals to stretch in the golden glow.

Still, you realise then how easily you could fall in love with Eddie Munson. It already feels like his name is branded across your heart, the letters seared into muscle.

Your third and final orgasm of the night creeps up on you. Building as a tingle that runs up your spine, spreading into every limb until you feel it in the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s not a blazing heat like the others. More like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long arduous day. Soothing heat. Comforting and safe.

Eddie whines your name. Turns his head and crashes his lips to yours just as his own high reaches its crescendo. His hips stutter, fingers curling into a fierce grip on the soft down of his pillows. He cries out, and you feel the blooming heat of him spilling into the condom, thrusts growing weaker as he rides it out. For a moment you find yourself hating the thin latex that covers him. Wishing you take all of his pleasure, watch it trickle back out when he’s done.

Eddie collapses onto you. His chest heaves, spent limbs turning to dead weight, not that you mind. You weakly raise one hand, combing through his curls, dampened at the roots from his efforts.

There’s a slight aching in your cunt. Your hips are screaming in protest from being spread open for so long. But there’s no pain in your chest. No hollow emptiness, and no sour taste on your tongue. You exhale a contented sigh, pushing Eddie’s bangs back so you can kiss his forehead.

He lifts his head, resting his chin on your sternum. His eyes are heavy. He looks blissful and sleepy.

“Hey.” You say softly.

“Hey.” Eddie replies.

“Was that okay?”

“Perfect.” He grins.

With a groan he pushes up, moving slow as he pulls out.

“Was it.. was it okay for you? I didn’t hurt you?” Eddie asks anxiously.

“It was amazing.” You reassure.

Eddie smiles. You roll onto your side, watching as he clambers off the edge of the bed and removes the condom, tying it and tossing it into the trash.

“Thank you.”

Eddie tuts.

“You don’t need to thank me silly girl.” He says affectionately. You shuffle back to make space for him to climb back in beside you.

“But you took such good care of me.”

“M’just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.” He says. His fingers wander lightly over your cheek, tracing tiny patterns across smooth skin.

“I should probably get us some water. And you can go to the bathroom.” Eddie comments.

“Don’t wanna.” You grumble, pushing your face against his chest.

“Just wanna cuddle.”

Eddie laughs.

“Alright cuddle bug. Five minutes, then you’ve got to pee, and I’ll make you a cup of camomile.”

“I didn’t have you down as a camomile tea kind of person too.”

You feel Eddie shrug.

“I’m not. I just remembered you saying you like it, so I picked some up.”

You were definitely right.

It would be so easy to fall in love with Eddie Munson.

series

virgin!eddie | part i // ii // iii // iiii // v // vi | smut | x reader | 13.9k

oneshots

i get off | smut | x reader | 1.4k

hysteria | smut | x reader | 3.2k

she's got the look | smut | x plus size!reader | 2.1k

don't you want me baby | smut | x plus size!reader | 2.3k

living dead girl (kas!eddie) | smut/noncon | x reader | 3.7k

knocking on heavens door | smut | x reader | 1.7k

lay your hands on me | smut | x reader | 3.9k

the sex is good | smut | x reader | 3.7k

'what're you wearing?' | smut/phone sex | x reader | 2k

'you're cute when you beg' | smut | x reader | 1.5k

'you wanna get cucked by steve?' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 2.1k

two for the price of one | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 1.3k

'you want some help with that?' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 2.8k

this must be the place | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 8.6k

like a secret in your throat | smut | eddie x steve | 1.1k

isn't that so sad | angst/mental health | eddie x steve | 1.9k

blurbs

'go on, what else would i like?' | smut | x reader | 1k

'are you that easy for me?' | smut | x reader | 1.7k

'those are gonna be hard to cover up' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'i bet i could make you squirt' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'same time tomorrow?' | smut | x reader | 1.1k

'you'll take what i give you' | BULLY!EDDIE smut | x reader | 1.6k

'dunno, eddie. i feel funny.' | BULLY!EDDIE smut/piss kink | x reader | 1.1k

'sorry? too little too late.' | BULLY!EDDIE smut/dubcon | x reader | 1.1k

'i need to see you cum.' | VIRGIN!EDDIE smut | x reader | 1k

grower not a shower | smut | x reader | 1k

eddie & steve dp | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 1.5k

virgin!eddie watching porn | smut/phone sex | x reader | 1.2k

rockstar!eddie signing your tits | smut | x reader | 1.2k

drabbles

'who's the desperate idiot now?' | smut | x reader | 672 words

'tell me, was he as good as me?' | smut/dubcon | x reader | 1k

save a horse, ride a cowboy | smut | x reader | 503 words

'your perfect little nose' | smut | x reader | 248 words

'fucking hate you, munson' | smut | x reader | 557 words

'you think bad girls deserve to cum?' | smut | x reader | 866 words

'shit sweetheart, didn't see you there.' | smut | eddie + steve x reader | 730 words

'so desperate you couldn't wait, huh?' | smut | x reader | 495 words

‘s’not all gonna fit is it?’ | smut | x reader | 945 words

'oh shit, sorry, m'gonna-' | smut | x reader | 246 words

eddie fucks fat girls | smut | x reader | 362 words

eddie 'minuteman' munson | smut | x reader | 200 words

edging eddie until he cries | smut | x reader | 847 words

perv!eddie likes to make you squirt | smut | x reader | 246 words

modern day!eddie + reddit | fluff | x reader | 449 words

eddie + sick reader | fluff | x reader | 537 words

'i never thought you could hurt me like this' | angst | x reader | 630 words

'here comes the airplane' | fluff | x reader | 266 words

'i was gonna knock your socks off' | fluff | x reader | 461 words

eddie and your daughter | fluff | x reader | 383 words

eddie finds out you're pregnant | angst | x reader | 659 words

updated january 14th '24