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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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I Never Missed You 3/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Angst and smut and fluff (the holy trinity!) in this last part.

Part 1 Part 2

Juice spills all over the table from the oranges you press, but you don't mind. There has been a soft smile on your face all morning.

Simon's still sleeping, and you want to surprise him with a special breakfast today: scrambled eggs, freshly pressed orange juice, berries, and…

"You took my shirt."

You flinch when you hear his familiar rumble not a few feet away. The staircase wailed like a widow last night, but obviously, this man has learned to avoid the creaky spots when he wants. A goddamn heavyweight ninja...

"I'm sorry." You lick your fingers from the juice and try to feign innocence. The sleeves of his black tee reach your elbows, but you're not sorry. Nor do you feel bad about seeing him in your kitchen without a shirt.

"It was not an accusation," he says, the corner of his mouth curving a little, the dark eyes that made love to you last night giving you an approving once-over.

You approach him with a glass full of sun, but it's you he grabs in his hold. Your fingers find the scars on his back as you two embrace, and you feel an odd churn in your stomach.

"What's this…?"

Your hand floats across the embossed, white ridges that crisscross his back. The collection forms an entire mountain range, and it's chilling because you've only brushed the space between his shoulder blades.

"A reminder. To trust no one."

"No one…?"

"No one."

You remain a coward and refrain from asking for more details. You doubt he would even share them.

"I made you breakfast," you lower your gaze to the colorful palette you've gathered on the plates. Is it some sort of an instinct to want to feed a man after they've fucked you so good?

"So I see," he says, ever more approvingly. Then you're lifted on the table, next to the plates, like you're the breakfast.

Soon you're only wearing his shirt and your tiny socks, which Simon decides to leave on, too busy with getting his face between your legs.

No one has done anything like that before… No one has chosen you over breakfast; an entire abundance of delicacies laid out.

He licks you until your legs are trembling on that tortured back. You're pure, you're untouched by evil, and he carries your naivety on his shoulders like it weighs nothing. He flattens his tongue on you, sucks your flesh, tortures you on that table and doesn't even mind his teeth all too much. The peak stubble he hasn't yet shaved stings and burns as he moves across your folds.

Saying that the coarse chin on your silk feels good would be an understatement. You come undone next to the breakfast, clad in golden light shining through the small window left uncovered.

You feel alive, and raw, and stellar. A shooting star, a comet high above the sky, although the space through which you ignite consists of golden rays of sunlight and the scent of orange juice.

He takes the shirt back after he's done. After you're done and try your best to return back to earth with shaking legs. The only thing you're wearing is your socks, but you feel completely naked before him, dopey and dumb before the day has even started. Simon only licks his lips, throws that shirt on, and grabs his plate.

He dares to comment that there's no hot water. You put the kettle on with a wobble, feeling hotness on your cheeks while he sits down to eat his second breakfast like it's the most natural thing in the world: to wreck you first thing in the morning.

…............................

Simon.

He fixes the door on your fridge. He helps you clean your garage and fucks you on the table. Oily, dusty, filthy table. You go to shower after, together. You're giggling; he's smiling. Fully, now.

You want to ask him, Is this free of charge too…? Not just his cock... But his smiles. His assistance and support. The looks he grants you when you come out of the shower, ready to be licked to ruin.

He calls you his Princess to tease you just right. To get you in a state where your eyes flash with half-rage, half-lust, just before he slips inside you. He knows exactly which strings to pull – and then calls you love just when you're about to give him a piece of your mind.

You end up on the table, on the counter, on the floor. He takes you while your jaw slowly falls open from his audacity and his cock, splitting you apart with slow love. The first time he takes you in a missionary, you squirt. It's like his cock was made for you. And he dares to tease you about that, too.

"Did ya just squirt all over my cock?"

You have tears in your eyes, shame on your cheeks, and he's wetter than a wet dog down there… then he makes you squirt again, high on the lewd, obscene praise you just gave him with your pussy.

Your cunt can't lie; he knows it by now. So it's futile to keep your lips sealed either.

Kiss me.

That's what you would've usually ordered. But after an exceptionally quiet and passionate and desperate fuck that leaves you both catching your breath, leaves him hovering only inches from your sweaty upper lip, you whisper…

"I want to kiss you."

You expect him to laugh or mock you, at least crack a stupid joke or two. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to your lips, and he swallows with a heavy roll, then closes the gap between you two. Covers your mouth with his, uses that strong jaw to open you for devouring.

The kiss lasts long enough for you to begin breathing through your nose. Your inner walls grip him, still buried deep inside, and the gusts of exhales passing through his nostrils hit your face with pure bliss. He’s a little breathless when he parts – withdraws just enough to look into your eyes.

“Will that do...?”

There is a drunken vigor in his eyes of crushed amber, but to your shock, you hear your own question laid out before you. The one you asked when you were going to that party.

Will I do…?

Your hands find his jaw and cup his face from both sides, drawing him back to your lips.

“Yes."

You will more than just do.

And then you say…

"I want more.”

He chuckles a soft scoff on your face.

"Greedy little thing."

Then he swallows you again. You kiss for a good few minutes while he grows half-hard inside you. It's the most romantic kiss you have shared with anyone, ever. He tells you how spoiled you are between the breaths you both catch, then spoils you some more with his mouth and tongue and cock.

You start to curl together in the evening. Just to watch a comedy. He massages your feet and smiles more every day. It's kind of domestic, how he wrinkles his nose at your fine white wine and asks what it is in that decanter you have in your study. When you say it's just some old bourbon, he goes and gets himself a glass like he's finally made himself at home.

It makes your heart grow thick from love. You almost forget why he's here in the first place.

When you ask him about the plan, he explains it to you in detail while kissing his way down your ribs and navel. He takes his sweet time while doing it, kissing the inside of your thigh, the hollow place below the knee, the tender skin under the knee. He kisses your calf and the ankle bone while holding your leg up for his lips with just one hand. Then he does the same to your other leg, but this time, kisses his way from ankle to thigh until he reaches…

You.

You've forgotten half the plan by then because you realize Simon hasn't looked at you like you're a steak or garbage in a long, long time.

He looks at you like you're a queen. You could say he worships you, but the thought alone makes your heart flutter with the anxiety of a fragile hummingbird.

Simon gets you your groceries and gets himself only a beer as a reward. You would happily offer him a case if you knew it would make him happy.

But you don't really know what would make him happy. You don't know anything about this man. You know he likes it when you're dolled up and angry. He likes you when you're sleepy, without makeup, wearing only his shirt. He likes to fuck you from behind and hold you close after. He likes to give you a wash, likes it when you wash him. He likes to watch the two tall trees outside the window sway when there's a strong wind.

"What makes you happy?" You ask one night after you've had him in your mouth.

"Blowjobs," he answers with a straight face, and you shove him in the shoulder. Nicely. Softly.

"No, for real."

"I dunno." He sighs and turns to stare at your ceiling with a bothered look. It's a tricky question, perhaps. Or weapons, not willingly gifted.

"Dogs," he shrugs after a while. "A day of silence. Good whiskey."

He doesn't grant you weapons. You get some rope, but not enough to choke him with it. He trusts no one.

"Why don't you like missionary…?" You continue roasting him while curling your fingers around the pale hair on his chest.

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Don't avoid the question, Mr. Doggystyle."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your palm flat over his heart. His stare slowly drifts from the ceiling back to you.

"Simon. Why do you always fuck me from behind?"

He raises his eyebrows like he's innocent of the crime he's being accused of. "Not always."

"Seriously, Simon."

The smug look returns; it gives his eyes a delightful little spark and tugs at the corner of that kissable mouth.

"I like your ass."

"But not my eyes?"

The smile dies, and he gulps down a short surprise, caught between truth and dare. But then his eyes settle like the calming sea under a full moon. Stern, but not remorseless. Bold, but not heartless. If anything, he's naked and bare.

"Darlin'. Love your eyes the most."

Your heart does a backflip. You've been a fool because what else has he done but search for your eyes first thing in the morning? Given you flashes of mischief over breakfast, made love to you with those eyes as you cum around his cock? That liquid fire and smoke hasn't left you since he stepped inside this house.

You breathe together; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. There was a time when you thought this man was incapable of love, but now you fear he has never been allowed to love enough.

"We never talked, you know," you whisper. His heart swells underneath your palm like a sail.

"What'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"So talk."

Walls are raised so quickly you feel them knocking the warmth out of your body. It's cold, it's Antarctic, the technique he uses to withdraw. Your room turns into a kingdom of ice from the cruel, emotionless indifference he emits.

You've been a fool, yes... And a child.

"You're making it hard," you say, noticing how the man starts to tense up under your fingertips. This is not the way, but you're not smart enough to stop your rampage.

"What happens when you've done your job?"

He doesn't sigh. He doesn't even think twice before giving his answer.

"I go back to the base."

You know now why he's called a ghost. You wonder if he was ever even here. Simon becomes a reminder for you, a reminder to trust no one.

"...Right." You pull your hand away slowly. As if it somehow helps with the pain to pretend you haven't just touched a hot stove and ended up getting your fingers burned.

He notices how you tense up far more than he. The arm around your waist goes tight, and you wonder if you've always been a bloodied steak to this brute, a stupid little princess with your wines, sighs, and wet eyes. He just doesn't want to let go of the last bites of his fine, delicious meat.

"I never thought you wanted a relationship," he says with a hollow voice, and the red rage nearly blinds your sight. You're too riled up to even yell at him.

"Love…" he tries for the last time.

"Get out of my bed."

…............................

His musk still clings to you as you descend the stairs the next morning.

He's sitting at the end of the steps with hunched shoulders and a tense back, exiled into the man he was the first day you met him. Your heart bleeds from the sight, wondering whether Simon has waited there the whole night after you kicked him out of your bedroom. But the boiling bile in your stomach forces you to lift your chin and draw your shoulders back as you walk down those steps with an audible clatter as your heels clack across the parquet.

He must've heard you before you make a racket fitting for an angered queen, but rises only after you've made it halfway through the staircase. You won't allow yourself to even look his way as he draws a deep breath.

"Love. Sweetheart."

But with that, you flash the man a stare full of despise as you walk past him.

"Don't."

"Let me–"

"Don't say a word," you take a sharp turn and raise a hand to shield you from whatever brutality he would like to stain you with. "You don't talk to me. You just do your job. Ok?"

His chest swells with another deep breath, but otherwise, this man is still as a statue again.

"Ma'am."

It takes you a while to notice he has regressed back to that term again, and you tilt your head. The movement is that of a warrior who swings her sword to a guard before a fight. He crosses his hands over his crotch as if to shield the most vulnerable parts from a low blow, but his eyes are full of hateful hurt as he gives you his most pretentious, mocking tone.

"Miss."

Your heart skips a beat – Simon becomes the thing you miss.

A hit and run.

You have to resist the urge to grimace at the pure venom in his voice - it doesn't matter what he calls you because that tone seeps straight through your skin like lye. It hurts; it burns to see him even more withdrawn to his shell than when you first met. He retreats far beyond the front line, he goes further than the rear, and it's a bitter defeat for both of you.

This man has rubbed your feet while you've laughed at a stupid joke in a sitcom. The same man has been inside you – night after night after night. It rips your heart to see a distant, perfectly blank expression on his face after you've seen him give you a plentitude of relaxed and wicked little smiles.

You share the breakfast in funeral-like silence. You wish you could pay him to stay home so that you can go through your day filled with terror and longing without Simon Riley following you around.

"I've been meaning to update you on new intel about the target," he breaks the silence, and your heart feels like it's being put through a wringer. Simon hasn't even touched his breakfast. "Turns out he received training in a sniper unit."

"So?"

"There's a high chance he might prefer to use long-range weapons."

He's professional, curt, clinical. Even more so than when you first shook hands with him. And all the while, those eyes burn you; they examine you like you're the most challenging puzzle he's ever tried to solve. He's cold as ice with his words and hot as hell with that stare. Those eyes seem to pierce your clothes, they even reach under your skin.

"Right," you say without giving him a single look back.

"We have to update our protocol asap."

Our…

We.

"The protocol…" you whisper and finally look up at him. His lips draw into a thin line as he sees how your walls crumble; they didn't last even half a day.

"Simon, I can't do this," you say, your voice breaking. The tears are only seconds away. They blur your sight, but as he rises from the table slowly and takes a hesitant step towards you, you turn your head back to your toast with a snap.

"I want to change bodyguards."

From the corner of your blurred vision, you see how he raises a hand. If you didn't know any better, you could say that he's at his weakest. But the hand falls straight back and gives a twitch by his side. You wonder why he even bothers to disguise the spasm so lousily as a stretch. It's as if he wants you to see that he's in tumult too.

"I'll stay until–"

"No. Get out."

"Miss. I'll just get my things," he says, and you nod briefly. No exchange of gazes is probably the best policy after informing him you no longer need his services. It's better to rip the band-aid off with one yank than try to pretend that this relationship was something more than sexual.

You know he came to your house with minimal belongings, a duffel bag full of spare clothes and a large case which you supposed was a container for different weapons. That is why you notice he takes a surprisingly long time to get those things and leave your house.

When he finally emerges from his room – no, not his room, but the guest room, you remind yourself – he places the luggage in the hallway and comes back to you, probably to say his polite farewells.

"You won't let me speak to you, so I wrote you a fuckin' letter."

You turn to solid stone as he places an envelope between your water glass and cup of coffee. You sit with your heart thumping in your chest as he picks up his things, walks to the door, walks out of it and out of your life.

It's one of those moments you wish you could freeze and rewind. Do everything differently so that it wouldn't have to come to this. Instead, you listen how the front door clunks shut.

Then you send your trembling fingers up from your lap and onto the pure white thing that holds his secrets. You pry it open and find yourself reading the lines, scribbled with surprisingly sophisticated handwriting, through a round of hot tears.

They cloud your vision, but they don't cloud his words.

You skim through the letter in a frenzied hurry once, then again with more control, and try to remember how to breathe.

He shares shrivels from his past, ugly, horrid things which make your breakfast nearly push up your throat. He tells you he stopped dating eleven years ago for a reason. He writes that he would rather be tortured again than make you suffer from his past and incapacities.

There are certain lines that enter your heart like a thief with the most delicate crowbar. Lines like I'm not good with words and You must know by now that I'm a broken man.

Lines like I'm not a fucking poet but I'll miss your warmth even under the desert sun.

Some lines make you want to tear the letter to pieces. Lines such as Don't throw your diamonds in the dust and I can't give you what you deserve.

He thinks you can't take his darkness, so he shelters you from it. He says he would come back to you if he could. You don't know what the hell he means by that.

If he could?

What the fuck prevents him?

You sit inside your empty, lonely house, confident of the fact that it is not you who prevents it. It was not you who just sent him out that door. Who commanded him to leave because you didn't need his services anymore.

The letter makes you cry, and then it makes you boil.

Such sweet words, and so many empty sentences. If only, if I wasn't, if I could.

You get the feeling that he's mocking you again. If only you weren't a princess and a spoiled brat, then perhaps he could reconsider this relationship.

You leave the letter there; you leave your coffee and your breakfast. You almost wish someone would shoot you and put you out of your misery as you call a taxi and go to the heart of the city.

You're completely numb as your fingertips brush silk and linen and all the newest designs. They curl around tiny bottles of bright nail polish and touch the perfumes made from the last free wildflowers of a burning world, but you feel nothing stir inside.

You're emptier than the echo that rings through the malls and corridors of stone; you feel poorer than all the beggars on the street. Shopping always makes you feel better. But now you want to burn all your money, throw your jewels out the window, torch all the fucking stores like some bloody anarchist. You leave every store without buying a thing and try to remember what it was to have lunch without drowning in tears that can't be cried in public.

"I can't give you what you deserve."

That's the line that scalds you most. You know what he meant when he wrote those words, seemingly humble. But your bleeding heart twists that sentence until his words are a testimony of pure rejection.

You have money, so you don't deserve love, is that it?

You want to find him and shake him. It's not about what you deserve or what he deserves. It's not about what anyone deserves. And if the bloody man thinks he doesn't deserve love only because he's made his home in suffering, then he's the last person who should be allowed to decide who deserves what.

You walk through the crowds and streets like a small whirlwind, on the verge of yelling your heart and loneliness out in the air until your vocal cords are raw. You're so riled your mind doesn't even register the gunshot.

The only thing you hear is a glass shattering next to you just before an entire boulder hits you.

His scent envelops you like a safe, warm blanket, even if that blanket weighs a ton and causes your jeans to grate and tear as you two hit the asphalt. Simon gives you bruises, scrapes and burns all across your left side as your body grinds through the dirt.

Another shot is fired; this time, a car's glass is shattered above you, and the body surrounding you tenses until you worry your bodyguard has been hit. The bodyguard you fired this morning, who's still doing his job, who never even left you…

People are screaming and running in different directions all around and above you, but time comes to a halt as Simon rises only an inch or two.

"Stay down," he gruffs in your ear. "Don't move. Don't you fucking move, ok?"

The whole world could've gone silent from the way you only hear his voice. His words. His distress. You remain still as a stone and look up at him – your lips part because he's looking at you with impatience that's not just pressing; it's demanding.

"Yes," you stutter, "yes, of course."

Someone's pissed because a third shot sends him right back over you, and only then do you notice you're clinging to him, to his jacket and his shirt, like he's a human shield. Then the human shield speaks again, and the words that come out only make you grip him tighter.

"He has to change the magazine soon. You stay right here, ok? I'm going in."

"No, don't," your fingers curl around his clothes and try to keep him on top of you. "Don't go. I'm afraid."

I'll get you a dog.

A day of silence.

I'll buy you some good whiskey. I promise…

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, more softly now. "I promise."

Then he rips himself off you. Your body misses his heat like the desert sand must miss the sun, and you realize you've ruined everything as you finally get to watch him in his element. He's agile and beautiful as he reaches for his gun, takes it out, and prepares it in a few seconds to fire death upon your faceless enemy. You've ruined everything because if Simon goes in, he might get killed – he's a human, not a shield, he's not even a weapon – and all the things you never said will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Don't leave me," you want to reach for him, but don't dare disobey his orders. It should send you laughing: that you're finally doing precisely as he says. You finally trust your life with him, just before he leaves you, leaves you, leaves you.

"Simon–"

"Sweetheart. I never left you."

He looks straight into your eyes. You gulp the tears now.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, and someone is screaming; everythings a buzz, cars whir by as you tell him all the things you meant to say weeks ago. "I never wanted you to go. I always liked you. I– I think I love–"

"Shh. Don't you do this to me now."

The words are so soft you have to struggle to hear what he's saying under his breath. It's like he's talking to himself, and you realize you're an asshole, saying things like that to him when he's trying to concentrate on his mission and his job. But you just can't help yourself sometimes. No one in your life compares to him. No one has caused such a ruckus, such turmoil, such devastation and such love.

"Do what?" you whimper there, motionless on the ground as he gives you a last, painful look before his stare fixes on the piece of glass still unshattered, the dim, transient mirror of a store window he uses to locate movement in one of the buildings.

Then he takes a peek over the car, and you hold your breath – he's the bait now, and ducks his head immediately as two more shots are fired. You don't even have the strength to scream; your whole body simply shudders from the echoing sound of pure fear – how can he play tag with death like that?

And then he leaves.

He rounds the car and darts for the building and the sniper; he disappears from your vision so quickly you wonder if these past weeks have been but a dream.

A hit and run.

"Do what…" you repeat on the ground and curl into yourself even though he said you shouldn't move. You figure it's not that big of a crime to go into a fetal position when you don't know if he's ever coming back to scold you for breaking the rules.

You want to close your ears from the sounds that follow – you fear you'll jinx something if you listen too closely to what happens in that building. You try to concentrate on your breaths, slowly bringing you back to your body. You haven't even noticed that there's blood running down your arm.

It's funny how you only notice the pain after seeing the flowing crimson that makes small rivers around your fingers. You don't want to look at your burning shoulder because the shock is already here.

The searing pulse gets worse as you hear another shot, then another shot. Those sounds pound inside your shoulder and send more fire down your arm. Minutes or hours pass and you think how strange it is that everything's completely still, how bizarre it is that there are no sirens, no cars, no screaming. They've finally closed off the roads.

You only start to cry when you see that he's alive.

You try to rise from the ground to meet him – a bleeding princess, waking from her beauty sleep and realizing everything's just been a bad dream, greeting her knight in a black pair of fitted tactical pants and a pistol on his waist. Diamonds and darkness…

He rushes to you in what seems like desperation. You find it oddly beautiful that he's not only relieved to see his client is still alive and well, he's also relieved to know you're still there. That his princess has waited for him.

He falls on his knees and prevents you from rising. You're quickly wrapped in his arms, feeling so happy and safe that you don't even bother to tell him you're injured. It's just a scratch anyway. Even if your leg was blown off, you wouldn't complain about being picked up in his lap like this.

"Shh. I got you. I got you."

He's cradling you like a child while tears stream down your face, but there's no audible sounds of crying. You weep a whole river of tears and your nose is clogged, forcing you to breathe through your mouth, but there's no wailing, no screaming, no bawling. The first words that roll off your tongue are a child's moody complaint.

"You left me," you mope as he caresses your head.

"Only for a little while."

"You came back."

"I said I would."

More tears flow, and this time you sniffle and sob. He rocks you gently back and forth as you cry in his embrace. Simon would make a good father.

"Is he…?" You whisper, then look up at him. He just nods and gives you a quick scan, drawing a sharp breath when he notices the wound on your arm.

You're placed back on the ground as he inspects your shoulder and tells you the bullet managed to scrape some skin but has mostly just ruined your jacket. You're almost sorry that the wound is not as severe as it feels. You thought the burning sensation meant shattered bones and scarred flesh, but the scratch is no deeper than if you had accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't want… No hospital," you beg as he offers to take you to ER. You're not spending the rest of the day in a frigid treatment room where tired medical personnel only clean the wound and put a big plaster on it.

"Just take me home," you plead like you're his daughter who doesn't want to go to school today. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want."

He makes a few phone calls, arranges things with the local police or something. You don't want to know anything about it. You don't want to know who got shot in that building and how.

It's not a taxi that drives you back this time. You don't know where he got a car and a driver, but the vehicle is big and black, and your head is in Simon's lap when you lie in the backseat. There's a panel between the driver's seat and the rear, so you don't even know who's driving, but you're only grateful for the privacy after the crazy morning followed by a murder attempt. You look up at Simon, who looks back at you for the first time while you're in a car together.

"Why did you become a soldier?" You ask, not knowing why you're whispering. He's holding your hand – a simple, wholesome thing to do, but his grip on you is solid and warm and feels equally as intimate as the times this man has been inside you.

"I wanted to help people."

"By killing them?"

"By saving those I can."

He keeps a hand on your cheek too. Simon has spoken softly ever since you were fired at, has been humane and caring and tender, and you realize… This man is naked before you; he's stripped bare from all pretenses.

And he's not darkness. He's not a skeleton or a dead man or even a soldier.

He's a beacon in the night.

"You did a good job," you squeeze his hand softly.

The last glass-like veil in his eyes shatters, but far more softly than those windows shot at with a rifle.

"I live to serve, Ma'am...–Miss."

"Don’t… Simon, please don’t call me a–"

He descends. He doesn't need that hand to lift your chin up to meet him in a kiss. It's not a hungry devouring this time, but a soft promise, a lover's seal. You feel the rest of the shock leave your body in his embrace. There's no more coldness, only a fragile burning.

"You never look me in the eyes," you whisper as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. It's a silly thing to say when he looks at you with all the love in the world.

"Yes I do," he gives you a soft brush of a thumb across your cheek. His lips are right there, an inch away from yours. "How could you have missed that?"

He's right, as always. The dark love almost swallows the brown of his eyes as he looks at you, shining light on you as he has shined for days, for weeks now. How could you have missed that, indeed? You raise a hand to cup his cheek, not caring about the pain, not even mourning that your blood stains his chin. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so why would you?

When you arrive at your house, he drives away the loneliness, sorrow, everything a rich girl can fear by carrying you in his arms, stepping over the threshold with you like you two are married now.

He peels your jacket off with affection and tenderness, tends to your wound and wipes away the blood that has caked dry all over your arm. The gash has bled a lot for such a small wound, and you purse your lips from how accurately it reflects your feelings for him.

He ties the wound, checks at least two times he's not tying it too tight. His care breaks your heart, because you don't know whether he will leave you after this. There's nothing that keeps him here anymore – there's no way you can keep Simon Riley to yourself. So you abandon him first for the second time, ascend the stairs to your lonely domain while he cleans up the small mess in the bathroom.

It's a small miracle that he follows you. He opens the door to your room without knocking – not because he's entitled to your privacy, but because there are no more barriers between you two. You're gathered in a stout embrace for the second time this afternoon, and you wrap your arms around him to hold him closer.

"You'll leave me soon," you speak to the wall before you, to the man behind you, holding you so gently against his chest. "I'll miss you."

"Love," he murmurs behind you, you feel the words against your back as a warm rumble. "I'll come back. If you want me, I'll come back to you."

"You will…?"

"I promise."

You have no more tears to cry, so you settle for examining the stab inside your heart, the wound that will bleed you dry if no one ties it tightly enough.

"I don't believe you."

"It's not a matter of whether you believe me."

He turns you around and lets you bathe in his warmth again, the same golden light that came through the window when he placed his mouth on you in the kitchen. It's almost frightening to know that there's nothing that can keep him from you. Nothing, except you. The only thing that has stood between you was only and ever pride.

"Simon," you breathe, a soft attempt to introduce him to mercy. "It's not a matter of what we deserve."

He blinks a few times, the chest against your side collapses a little. It's a hard reset. The corner of his mouth tugs, a beautiful betrayal of his surrender, a sign of being hit by a boulder – your boulder, finally bringing the rest of those walls down.

"You think so...?"

"Yes. I think so."

He brushes his knuckles across your sternum – a familiar motion that always manages to lift your heart. You used to think it was foreplay when it was in truth, an attempt to touch the organ said to be the house of love.

You think about the times his harsh breaths have hit you just before he cums, the urgent praise he's peppered you with merely seconds before you've cried from pleasure. Can't get enough of you pet, you’re fucking perfect, 'm gonna make you cum, sing for me, just like that...

You always thought it was a catalogue of shallow lust when it was an offering of naked devotion.

He was as vulnerable as you when you drifted through space together, when you drowned in his stunning midnight sea. He was catching fire and burning too, again and again until you were both satisfied and sweaty. He always held you close after, panted desperate love on your skin, planted kisses on your collarbones and neck before resting his head on your heart. Settling there, over your pulse, like he had finally found his way home…

The hand glides between your breasts and molds itself over your waist. It fits there like a second skin. You're relatively sure his hands were made for holding you.

"You asked what makes me happy," he says, completely naked and bare. The heavy love surrounds you with warm safety; your breath flows freely as you await his confession, the last secret revealed. "I think you know, love."

You know. It has finally dawned on you. What you didn't know was that tears of hope could feel like fire too. You've never been more eager to burn.

"Now keep those pretty eyes on me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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starkwlkr · 10 months

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Heyy I love your workk!! can u do a lando x reader where they are streaming with max and he just teases lando for being a simp and its just really fluffy🫶🏼🫶🏼

crafting table | lando norris

request #2: Hi, could you please write a lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader thank you. I love your writing 💕

what if we kissed by the crafting table?👉🏼👈🏼 short fic but it’s still fluff <3

If you asked Max life was now that his best friend and his sister were dating, he would scream into a pillow. Well, that’s a bit dramatic, but who cares? They were being too in love in front of him and he felt like he was always third wheeling.

Today wasn’t any different. He was streaming with Lando and Y/n in his room and so far, the couple were busy fighting with pillows in the background while Max talked to his chat.

“Stop, i literally just asked you what you wanted to make our son!” Y/n hit Lando with her pillow.

“And I said his name doesn’t matter! You can name him sock and I wouldn’t care.” Lando tried to take away her pillow, but she kept fighting back.

“The chat is witnessing a live divorce.” Max turned his chair and faced the couple.

“Sock? That’s the best you can come up with?” Y/n dropped her pillow and went back to Max’s bed to continue building her minecraft house on her Nintendo Switch.

“It’s a minecraft dog!”

“Don’t know if I should record and let them kill each other or intervene,” Max told his chat. “I’ll give it a few minutes actually. If anything happens, you are all witnesses.”

Lando laid next to his girlfriend and watched as she built her house. He would occasionally place a kiss on her cheek and give his opinion on stuff like what kind of block would be great to make a house or how much he loved their virtual dog he had named sock.

“Someone just asked if Y/n were to break up with Lando, would I still talk to him?” Max faced the couple.

“They’re crazy if they think she’s going to get rid of me. I’m staying. She’s going to have to put a restraining order on me, but please don’t I very much enjoy your company.” Lando spoke to his girlfriend, who was still too busy building her house.

“Romance is not dead, ladies and gentlemen. You two are gross.” Max went back to face his computer.

“What if we kissed by the crafting table?” Max heard Y/n whisper to Lando.

“What the fuck?”

#inbox <3 #anon #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando Norris x fewtrell!reader

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two-facedgod · 10 months

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Reasons NOT to give up on earthly existence

Music. C'mon. You've got everything from Nine Inch Nails to Lady Gaga to The Beatles to Cocteau Twins to Infected Mushroom, etc. yadda-yadda-yadda. Ever put on your headphones while on the bus and pretend you're in a music video?

Dogs? Dogs.

No, but, seriously. Having an animal companion with a wet nose and wide, innocent eyes is the best. Hell, I'll take scaly with a forked tongue or eight legs and furry. Animals are the best.

Sunsets, but perhaps even better, sunrises. I know waking up early sucks but you've gotta check out the sunrise every now and then. I like to say goodbye to the morning star sometimes.

Food. Last night I had white almond cake with buttercream frosting and it was THE BOMB DOT COM. But also sushi, pizza, poke bowls, vegetable stew? Chicken and dumplings, cheeseburgers, gyoza? Wash your hands, dry them with your feathers, and eat something good.

Going on long car rides with the windows down and the radio cranked up. Go alone. Go with friends. Drive downtown. Drive through the rural hills and valleys. Have a destination. Go everywhere and nowhere in particular. Just get in the car and go.

Self-expression. You can do what you want. Listen to your favorite music, wear jewelry that matches your kintype or socks with your favorite animal on them, paint your nails any color you like - just go crazy. Be yourself.

Sleep. Our strange dreams guide us. There's nothing better than waking up on a cool morning swaddled in a blanket, so comfortable you don't want to move.

The weather. Some days rain falls from a sunny sky. Sometimes purple lightning streaks across the night sky for hours without a single raindrop. Sometimes the sky is a heartbreaking shade of blue, and sometimes, right before a tornado touches down, that sky is a sickly sort of green. Every day is different. No sky is ever painted the same.

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 15 days

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“Heart-throb lead singer Satoru Gojo is probably the most problematic celebrity in social media right now. He’s not problematic in a bad way - he’s just a downright lunatic.

There’s a trend on Tiktok where people would google any date on the calendar and see just what kind of scandal Satoru had gotten into on that day. Something would always pop up.

Kidnapping a baby monkey from the zoo? January 16.

Heatedly arguing with an old lady over the price of some socks, even though he’s a billionaire? March 21.

Creating a diss track of fellow band mate Suguru Geto, then sheepishly putting it down and insisting that it was never created? August 9.

Being Satoru Gojo’s publicist must be a nightmare.”

You hate it when coffee gets sticky on the sides of your mug. It reminded you that you’ve been on the job for far longer than you should have. And truth be told, you have! The article you just read was officially article 69 that night that you had taken down, and in a way you didn’t want to banish it into the world of 404s.

Being Satoru Gojo’s publicist WAS a nightmare.

Overworked, underpaid, always stressing about the next crazy thing he would do…you were at your wits end.

Time after time you would bail him out of the toughest and stickiest of situations, without even a thank you!

You were fairly certain that Satoru Gojo would be the death of you.

(Lead singer Satoru x Publicist y/n, should this be a series?)

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk oneshot

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brattyfork · 7 months

Text

his girl

summary: chris’ gf convinces him to make fresh love skirts

warnings: hair pulling, face fucking (kinda) nothing super crazy :3 super long tho, you can skip to the hearts, that’s where the fun stuff starts :>

my boyfriends brand has really been taking off lately. he’s reaching people outside of his fans so he’s been trying to add more clothing types. i suggested he should make a tennis skirt, just a simple one with the logo on it. he loved this idea and started getting it in the works.

once chris got them in he surprised me with it, a short white tennis skirt with “FRESH LOVE” on the right side. it was cuter than i could’ve ever imagined. he said that since i came up with the idea he wanted me and some of my friends to be the models for it. i, of course, said yes and texted madi and some of my other girlfriends.

they all said yes so chris set up the shoot date and told us all when to be there. i told chris i’d meet him there with the girls. i wanted to pick up my ladies and get hyped up before.

i picked them up, listening to madi’s “badbitch” playlist the whole way. i texted chris that we were there and he was already out front to show us where to go. he led us into the studio that had a little leather loveseat and an arm chair, the set looked good. chris got pulled away for “business” stuff so the girls and i made out way to the dressing room area. it was super cool, like something out of a movie, there were a bunch of mirror with lights around them over vanities with cute stools in front of each one. one of the makeup artists saw us oogling the room and pulled us all in, introducing us to the three people that would be doing our hair and makeup. we all took seats while they got all their stuff set up and we got started.

chris had asked me before what kind of makeup i thought we should do. i told him something simple so we didn’t take away from the clothes. my artist put me in a light but pigmented blue eyeshadow, lowkey winged eyeliner, mascara, some clear lip gloss and a shit ton of glittery highlighter. i loved the way it looked. madi and the other girls had something similar, altered based on their face shape, skin tone and what outfit they’d be in. we decided simple curls would be best, everyone’s being a bit different due to their hair type but it looked better that way.

it was time to get dressed and i was psyched. even though i had seen the skirts, i hadn’t tried them on. my skirt was white with the blue “fresh” and “love” heart on the corner, it hugged my hips perfectly and was just long enough to cover me. my stylist and i decided it would go best with a blue and white striped sweater. the other girls had different logo variations on their skirts, madi had the little deer while my other friend wore one with the “F” and the heart by it. we had all brought our own simple silver jewelry to go with our outfits and we decided we needed a little something more. madi slipped on some below the knee socks that ended up being over the knee anyway and i had some white knitted leg warmers. chris had already picked out shoes for every outfit, all sneakers of course. we slipped them on and tied them, giggling and squealing about how hot we looked. we took some pictures in the mirrors before chris knocked on the door.

“yall decent in there?” he slowly opened the door, showing his hand over his eyes. i said yes and he uncovered his eyes.

“you guys look great, we ready?” he said to all of us but he didn’t take his eyes off mine. the girls all said yes, making their way out the door past chris. i was behind them all hoping to see chris for a moment. i walked up to him, he looked me up and down, starting at the hem of my skirt, going all the way up to my head before looking back at my shoes.

“one of your shoes is untied baby”

“oh shit” i said as i began to kneel down to tie them

“let me do it” he beat me to the floor, sitting on one knee. he tied my shoe in a very methodical and particular way, then looked up at me and it was like the butterflies in my stomach had been given crack. he pushed himself up off his knee and slinked his arm around my waist. leaning into me, he moved my hair out of the way of my neck so he could leave a wet open mouthed kiss on my neck below my ear.

“you look so fucking good” he whispered in that low sultry voice i love so much. he placed a short kiss back below my ear and pulled away, leaving me standing there, frozen. chris started walking, noticing that i wasn’t behind him, he stopped and looked back at me. he held his hand out for me to grab, innocently staring at me as if nothing had happened. we both knew what he was doing, i could play that game too.

we started the shoot with pictures of just us girls in cute poses that showed off the skirts. i made sure to keep eye contact with chris, every time i looked back at him his pupils had dilated so his eyes were almost completely black when we were done.

after we had gotten all the ones of the girls, the director waved chris over.

“okay we’re gonna do some with just chris and his girl” he stated loudly, hinting for the other girls to move off set. they were done for the day so they started collecting their things. chris and i did some basic shots, sitting next to each other on the couch with his arm around me before he got up and sat in the arm chair next to the couch. i looked at him confused.

“come sit on my lap” i gave him a look but he tapped his thigh beckoning me over. i walked over to him, thinking this would be the perfect time to tease him a bit. i got situated on one of his thighs and crossed my legs. i could feel his very obvious half boner beneath my hip, realizing why he wanted me to sit on his lap. we took quite a few pictures, altering the position slightly every other shot. everytime i moved on him i made sure to press whatever body part was convenient to the area, pulling soft groans from him while he gave me warning looks.

we had finished with the shoot but i wasn’t satisfied. i got up off his lap, a tiny whine coming from him at the loss of pressure. i pulled one of the rings from my fingers and “accidentally” dropped it in front of me.

“whoops” i said almost comically. i bent down to pick up the ring, my backside turned to him, giving him a full view of my light blue lady panties i had on underneath the skirt. i stood back up slowly and wiggled my hips a bit, essentially shaking my ass in his face. when i turned to face him his eyes were dark, the smallest ring of blue surrounding his pupils. he adjusted himself as subtly as he could before standing up and walking past me.

chris went to wrap up the business end of the shoot and i made my way back to the dressing room. i passed my friends who had called their boyfriends to pick them up, saying quick goodbyes. when i got to the dressing room, madi was on one of the little stools.

“hey do you need a ride home?”

“nah my moms gonna take me, she’s just finishing up with the photographers and stuff”

“oh okay”

“dude, chris has been looking at you like he wants to eat you all day”

i blushed a little, slightly embarrassed that she had noticed our behavior.

“yeah i might’ve teased him a bit, i might be fucked”

“yeah i should hope so” we laughed over my choice of words, continuing to talk before we heard laura speak behind us. she stood in the door way with chris next to her with the scariest smile i’ve ever seen on his face.

“ready madi?”

“yep” she got up and grabbed her bag. “good luck” she whispered to me.

“you guys good?” laura asked chris and i. i started to respond but he beat me to it.

“yeah we’re fine” he said, not breaking eye contact with me.

they said their goodbyes and chris watched them turn a corner before closing the door locking it behind him.

🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀

“you’ve been quite the tease today” he said while making his way over to the vanity i was sitting at. i stayed seated, too nervous to move.

once he was in front of me, he caressed my cheek, slowly moving his hand to the back of my neck.

“nothing to say now?” he taunted, tilting his head to the side. i opened my mouth slightly, trying to get any words out but i truly had nothing to say. he quickly moved his hand to the back of my neck, weaving his fingers into my hair before harshly pulling. my head flung backward, making me gasp louder than i would’ve liked.

“i asked you a fucking question slut”

“n-no daddy, just wanted to have a little fun”

“oh we’re gonna have a lot of fun” the knot in my stomach becoming tighter at his words. he moved his face closer, ghosting his lips against mine.

“are you gonna be good baby?”

“yes daddy, wanna make you feel good”

he finally connected our lips and tugged on my hair again, causing me to open my mouth just enough for him to slide his tongue in. his tongue ran over ever inch of my mouth, claiming it as his own.

“get on your knees sweet girl” he released my hair from his grip. i pouted at his order, the floor was basically concrete. his eyes didn’t soften though so i gave in, moving off my stool and kneeling on the cold hard floor in front of him. he moved his hand back to my cheek while undoing his belt and pants with the other hand.

“so pretty for me baby” he cooed, letting his cock spring up out of his boxers and slap his stomach. i looked up at him for permission and he nodded his head ever so slightly.

i licked my way up the underside of him, feeling every individual vein on my tongue before taking the tip into my mouth. i sucked on just the tip for a second while he watched me, neither of us breaking eye contact. i slowly took more of him into my mouth, making him let out a soft groan.

“fuck so good baby” i moaned at his praise, sending vibrations down his cock. this made him grab the top of my head by my hair and force himself down my throat, making me gag and struggle.

“i know baby, breathe through your nose… just like that, that’s my girl” i did as he said, breathing through my nose as calmly as i could. the second i got used to it, he began slowly fucking my mouth, his speed increasing with every thrust as he used me. at this point i was drooling and had tears running down my face, stained black from the makeup.

“i’m close baby” he warned me. i was trying to prepare myself for his load when he shot hot cum down my throat. i gagged before swallowing, keeping his gaze. i was catching my breath when he leaned down in front of me.

“what do you say sweetheart?”

“thank you daddy”

“good girl, i think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” i smiled and nodded frantically, making him chuckle.

he stood up, reaching his hands out for me to grab. he helped me up, making sure i was stable before taking his hands back to slip his shirt off. i stood staring at his torso, mesmerized by every inch of him. he smiled before grabbing at the hem of my sweater and pulling it off me.

“turn around, lean on the table” referring to the vanity behind me. i followed his orders, shuddering as i laid my stomach on the cold surface. i looked up to see him standing behind me via the mirror attached to the vanity, smirking.

he reached up under my skirt to grab my panties before dragging them down my legs. he left small kisses on the backs of my thighs and calves in his wake, causing the puddle in between my legs to grow. he ran one of his hands up the inside of my leg, making me whine louder as he got closer to where i needed him. he finally placed his hand over my pussy while bringing his other hand to unclasp my bra.

“so wet for me baby”

i whimpered at his words, “please daddy, need you”

he said nothing before slipping a finger into me at an agonizingly slow rate. i let out frustrated moans, desperate for more.

“use your words angel”

“more please, i need more” he slipped a second finger into me, giving into my pleas.

“fuck thank you daddy” he was thrusting his two fingers into me at the perfect pace, i could feel myself coming undone.

“daddy gonna cum, can i cum?” i babbled out.

“go ahead baby, cum all over my fingers”

i let go with his permission, my legs shaking from the pleasure. before i could fully come down from my high, i felt something prodding my entrance. i looked up into the mirror, meeting his gaze. he looked to me for consent, i nodded my head, not being able to stand another second without him inside me. he pushed into me, watching my face contort with pleasure, not once breaking eye contact.

chris wasted no time, instantly pounding into me at an insane pace, his hands squeezing my hips. the feeling overtook my body, forcing my head down on the table. he weaved his fingers through my hair to pull my head up roughly, forcing me to face the mirror.

“look at yourself while i’m fucking you”

i let out a high pitched squeal as he sped up his thrusts, i could feel myself nearing the edge.

“daddy fuck can i cum?”

“do you think you deserve to cum slut?”

“please daddy i’ve been so good”

“i think you should beg me”

i threw my dignity out the window, needing to cum more ever.

“please daddy please let me cum” he just stared at me, unconvinced.

“fuck- PLEASE”

“love when you beg me like a whore, go ahead, cum all over me” i let go before he could even finish his sentence.

“fuck i love when you cum on my cock, so fucking tight” he grunted out. his sharp thrusts became uncoordinated and sloppy.

i heard him let out a loud groan before i felt him release inside me, the feeling so incredible, so warm and full, i could stay there forever. he fucked into me slowly, riding out his high before leaning down to lay on my back.

i turned my head to him, “i think you should make panties next”

a/n: sorry this is so late and so fucking long holy shit. i’ve had this idea for like 2 weeks now but didn’t rly know how to execute it. i really like how it turned out, hope yall feel the same :3

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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sgiandubh · 1 month

Text

Show must go on...

... and rather very much in your face, mind you.

Scottish Xena posted two stories at about 7 AM, counting calories, and, in the process, making sure to address roughly any objections that were ventilated on this side of the fandom, including this very page. See for yourself...

What are the odds she'd be talking about nutrition? Right. I am not an idiot. I know when something is way Over The Top - less is more, Xena. Less is always more: there was no need to overdo it like that, placemat and all, if you wanted to remain credible. You read us and you have been instructed to do so, just to perfectly stick to your walking, talking and very profitable Local Innuendo script.

Fair enough. And then, you also tell us that you will be at Hyrox today around noon, to film some ESN promo: your bread and butter, of course. S is just for shits, giggles and that Instagram yield:

So, there's that. *urv connecting dots like crazy, without having the slightest clue of what was discussed at that table. Her own brand of cheap fanfic for the masses, for the other five clowns commenting, out of which three at least are her own sock accounts.

Cue in the Useful Idiot. The Brazilian Tourist and Fan. Uma senhorita tão desagradável, who changed her story in between her first reaction reel and the debrief, back at her suburban Airbnb or where the fuck that was filmed.

First reaction reels:

'Just saw SH.' Not alone, oh no: 'com uma moça'. With a girl. So yeah, she had qualms asking for a pic.

First lie and dramatization. She posts a message for S where she explains she did not dare approach him, but she saw him alright. The one in Portuguese is completely different, though: 'I am going to post the video without sound, because I could only say "what a shame", while I was filming him on the sly. LOL.' I guess she thinks we are all idiots, or something. Also, in her reel, she confirms: 'ele estava almoçando com outra pessoa'/he was having lunch with another person. So far, so good, right?

Six hours later, a second debrief batch of reels, taking her reader's questions. The narrative changes, with a strong bias:

'Yes, he is super accessible and educated! I did not freak out, I just politely asked to take a pic (what I do consider the right way to approach famous people, at the end they are still human beings).'

For the people in the back: she is a lady. And a liar. The worst kind of liar, actually: a narcissistic one. Let's see what else she takes great pains telling us: 'ele tem um fandom bem tóxico'/he has a very toxic fandom. From now on, we just know what to expect, right?

Second answer, she explains he is very tall. He went inside to pay the bill and then he also went towards the bathroom (wtf?), she followed him inside, she asked for the menu, he finally went out and she approached him ('abordei' - 🙄) between the door and her table. Classy.

Cue in to a third answer (and second lie) to a very odd question: 'what did he smell like?' or something along those lines. For this one, I had to ask confirmation from Shipper Mom, who told me two things (she knew next to nothing about the whole episode- no bias): ' it's damn hard to understand what the hell she is talking about, she is eating half of her words. Plus you can tell she is lying.'

He doesn't smell, she tells us. But hey, she also freaked out a bit, finally (I thought she hadn't?!) and then well, 'ele estava com outra pessoa, uma moça, deve ser a namorada dele'/ he was with another person, a girl, probably his girlfriend'. But then he went inside (again? wasn't he coming out of the venue?), 'and the girl stayed at the table'. Things go murky afterwards, like they absolutely always do: she tells us she spoke to her (?), but would not say anything more, yet making sure to tell us she 'saw both of them'.

If anyone has a better version than mine, please step forward: we listened three times in a row, with Shipper Mom, a teacher of Portuguese and published literary translator. She was appalled by this young woman's carelessness and mendacity.

The Brazilian Tourist Fan is 23 years old (and it shows), she presents herself as a journalist and writer:

Seriously? What are the odds?

And finally, to wrap it up, the classical cheering moment, at yesterday's Hyrox: ' yeah, Sarah, nice!'

Nice, indeed.

FFS. Will it ever end?

Yes, it will. Anything ends: even Stalin's terror.

#fandom #shitshow

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trashmouth-richie · 4 months

Note

Hi! What about a blurb on Eddie taking care of Tooty post Partum

i love this, hope you enjoy it anon

masterlist

a small kiss sweeps against your neck, soft and sweet, followed by a sleepy little moan.

“good morning, baby.”

you roll over and face him, still adjusting to the pull of the stitches in your abdomen wincing as it feels like your muscles are literally being ripped in half.

you grumble and yawn, “no way the sun is out right now, i just laid her back down.”

he loves your sleepy voice, loves the way your hair is tangled into a mess on top of your head, the way your sleep shirt is twisted under you.

motherhood was his favorite look on you. it fit you perfectly and you wore it well. whenever Eddie seemed to be losing his mind not knowing what was going on when both the babies were crying, you were gentle in explaining to him what they needed.

he chuckles into your neck and you find his lips with eyes still closed, kissing him deep, sighing into his open mouth when his fingers cup your cheek.

Six weeks of late nights and spit up stained shirts— you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Eddie had morphed into the biggest softie, nearly crying himself when you trimmed the babies finger nails, never wanting to lay them down when they were sleeping. Wayne was right, he was the best dad.

“you’re so beautiful,” eddie whispers running his thumb over your cheek bone, “my sweet tooty.”

the butterflies for eddie never stopped fluttering and you never wanted them to, he was perfect. you open your eyes and smile up at him.

he’s completely dressed, keys stuffed into his pocket.

“going to the shop this morning?”

“ ‘m taking the babies to go see grandpa and grandma—” you sit up but large hands put pressure on your arms and lay you back down, “nah uh sweetheart, this is daddy’s day out, you just stay put, rest.”

tears well in your eyes and you aren’t sure if it’s from being so tired and drained from lack of sleep or from pure happiness and the thought of sleeping uninterrupted.

“wh—what if they n-need me?” you sob, tears rolling down your cheeks in an uncontrollable flood.

Eddie’s calm voice shushes you, “baby, I packed everything we might need—bottles, formula, diapers, wipes, socks, extra onesies, burp rags.. we will be more than fine.”

you didn’t think they wouldn’t be, but you sobbed even harder. “—i’m go, ugh Eddie! i’m gonna m-miss them.”

the bed dips where eddie sits next to you, rubbing your back, kissing your temple, “you need sleep, honey. it’s the only way you’ll heal.”

it took some more convincing from eddie, but when the front door shut and tires crunched on the gravel, your tears dried, and you hiccuped yourself to sleep— waking in the late afternoon to the smell of fried food and the smoky scent of eddie’s cologne.

“brought some food home,” he said kissing your lips and holding two large drinks and a bag of food in his arms, “wayne and karen wanted to watch the kids for the night…said I looked like hell and should go home and sleep— can you believe that?”

you smirk and his dimples display in his shit eating grin, “diet coke for the lady, and a regular coke for daddy.”

eddie unravels the slick wrappers from each hamburger, handing you a carton of fries as you sit up in bed, joining you with a burger in his mouth like a dog holding its favorite toy.

“regular coke, huh?” you say taking a small bite from your burger, “damn livin’ life on the edge.”

eddie snorts and swallows his food, “right, might even get real crazy and finish the whole thing.”

“eddie the freak munson still has it, ladies and gentleman.”

Eddie’s eyes cloud dark, a smirk on his lips as he walks his fingers under the sheets, towards your inner thigh— knowing full well that you slept in just panties and that oversized shirt these days.

your breath shifts and you swallow hard when his finger tips graze over your clit, a small little hitch catches in your throat and he grins devilishly, leaning down into you, eyes ripping holes into you, swallowing your bated breath as he moves his fingers underneath your panties, and you welcome him with knees pulled apart.

“oh baby… i never lost it.”

#honey i'm home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #fic recs #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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idyllicwillowtree · 1 year

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Smitten Kittens

Genre: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; fluff

Summary: Eddie helps out a very special cat who turns out to be yours.

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: light drug-use, swearing, illusions to bad parental relationships/toxic parents, reader is called ‘Ms. Y/L/N’ at one point, Eddie-centric, Eddie being a crazy cat lady

Author’s note: Loosely based off of me and my cat <3 ; pictures found on pinterest

Main Masterlist

_______________________________________________

4:37. Every morning Eddie’s body wakes him up at 4:37 and no matter how long he lays in bed or how late he stays up he can’t go back to sleep. He could have his eyes closed, unmoving for hours and still his mind would not allow him anymore rest.

That’s where his little friend Mary-Jane comes in handy.

His uncle, Wayne, is usually still at work at this time so Eddie doesn’t bother being gentle as he swung the front door open, a joint dangling from his chapped lips and a couple cans of tuna in his hand.

Stepping out of his muggy trailer, he took a deep breath of fresh morning air as goosebumps emerged on his skin. In preparation for the sun to rise, the night sky became a dark blue mixing with the yellow street lamps, light enough for Eddie not to use a flashlight. He plopped himself down on his front steps, his sock covered feet avoiding the dewy grass below by setting them on the last wooden step.

He lit up his joint, taking a deep inhale and enjoying a short moment alone before gently tapping the tuna can with his lighter.

“Purrrrow?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie clutched his chest before turning towards the noise, “Oh, there you are Ozzy.”

When Eddie started using weed to help him sleep in the middle of the night he slowly made some new furry friends. Once he set a precedent that the stray cats could come to him for a snack, he became the unofficial cat-guy of the trailer park.

Something about taking care of the mangy little beasts of the neighborhood made him feel important. Knowing there were four starving cats out there that turned to him for comfort filled him with a sense of purpose. Something he doesn’t always get with the people in his life.

As he starts filling the large dog dish he leaves outside with the fishy treat, the rest of his cat gang arrives, greeting him with quiet chirps, excited purring, and vertical tails.

Ozzy was the leader, a short-haired tabby that was pure muscle. He usually sported an intimidating glare as he watched over the other cats, keeping them protected and in line. His right-pawed man was a skinny gray cat Eddie named Dio. He was the only one who let Eddie hold him, never clawing to get away, but still preferring to keep all four paws on land. Then there was Dungeon and Dragon, two orange cats attached at the hip and always getting into trouble. Dungeon was very talkative while Dragon was the most affectionate.

Eddie continued smoking his joint, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of the eating cats. He listened as their loud smacking and happy purrs echoed in the dish.

Ozzy abruptly stopped eating, eyes zeroed in on something under Eddie’s trailer porch to his right. The cat’s back immediately puffed, fur standing up on its own. He let out an aggressive hiss followed by a yowl that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine. The rest of the cats perked up in curiosity.

“Please don’t be a raccoon,” Eddie mumbled to himself as he leaned over to get a better look.

Suddenly, a tentative black paw emerged from the shadow of the porch. The most beautiful cat Eddie had ever seen revealed herself, delicately sniffing at the fishy morning air.

Ozzy was not about to share his food with this new cat, making it known through his loud yowling that Dio soon joined in on. Dungeon and Dragon’s ears were pulled back, hissing at the new arrival.

Eddie watched as the cat timidly backed up under the porch again, not wanting any trouble but still eyeing their leftover tuna.

“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Eddie began gently shooing the clowder of cats away. They all snapped out of it and scampered off to do whatever it is they usually do when they’re done with their breakfast. Not before Ozzy could send one last hiss in the direction of the black cat.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a big tough guy. Go on.”

Pleased with himself, Ozzy trotted away in the direction of his pack. Once they were gone, Eddie finally got a good look at black cat who, once again, was making her way out of hiding.

In comparison to the rest of the cats, this one stuck out like a sore thumb. While the others were matted flea-covered strays, this cat had perfectly groomed long hair that looked particularly soft and fluffy. Her neon green eyes were clear and bright and her ears remained pointed and intact.

After she made sure all the other cats were gone, she immediately perked up and began approaching Eddie with her fluffy tail pointing towards the sky.

“Meow?”

“Hi there,” Eddie said gently. “You’re new.”

Eddie slowly lifted his hand, pointer finger stretched out towards the feline. She sniffed at it attentively before dragging her cheek across his short nails repeatedly. Eddie got the hint and started scratching behind her ears and down her spine, watching happily as she leaned into his touch before getting distracted by the leftover fish.

She was even softer than he imagined.

Eddie knew she didn’t belong out here, she’s too healthy and social to be an outdoor cat or a stray. His heart ached at the thought of someone out there looking for this sweet and loving companion. He knew he needed to help her find her home.

“In the meantime, I bestow upon you the title of ‘Sabbath’. Pretty metal, huh?”

“Purrrrow?”

“Exactly.”

Eddie cautiously scooped her up, pleasantly surprised by how easy this was for her. She immediately settled in his grip and turned to wrap her paws around his neck, nuzzling affectionately into his long hair.

Eddie took a moment with her, enjoying the feeling of her vibrating purrs against his chest, before heading back inside and to bed. The purring heals his heart a bit, it’s nice having someone around who offers their love to him without needing anything in return.

As soon as Eddie sets her down on the comforter, she spins around a couple times before passing out, Eddie falling asleep not long after.

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Eddie was sitting in class hunched over his notebook, planning out the next Dungeons and Dragons campaign for Hellfire. He was so focused he didn’t even realize the rest of the class packed up their things and left already.

“Mr. Munson, class is dismissed,” the teacher pointed out tiredly.

“You sure you want me to go, Mr. K?” Eddie said slyly, knowing Mr. Kowcheski hates the nickname, “we could talk about our feelings? Who have you been crushing on these days?”

Mr. Kowcheski deadpanned at the delinquent for a long moment before looking past him.

“You too, Ms. Y/L/N. Class is over.”

Eddie turned around, noticing you were still there for the first time. You sat slumped in your chair with a slack expression and wet dull eyes as you stared at the linoleum floor. You jumped slightly and blushed from the attention, eyes jumping around the room.

“S-sorry Mr. Kowcheski,” your voice wavered as you shakily gathered your things and made a break for it, Eddie following close behind.

He’s not sure what possessed him to approach you, but he knew he needed to make sure you were okay.

You never gave Eddie a reason to hate you, always sending him shy smiles and letting him borrow a pencil whenever he asked. You were a breath of fresh air in a school full of stale and rotten posers who made his life a living nightmare.

Everytime Eddie’s eyes wandered to you in class, you were always paying close attention and absorbing the lecture through taking notes and asking questions. He always admired that about you. That’s why it was so strange seeing you so zoned out that you didn’t even realize the bell had already rung.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie said, catching up to you in the hallway.

“Huh? O-oh hi Eddie. What’s up?”

Now that Eddie was closer, he could see your red-trimmed eyes and dark bags as you avoided his gaze. Your usual up-beat tone of voice was now scratchy and tired. Eddie felt sadness and worry flip through his stomach at the sight.

“Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he tilted his head, trying to catch your eye, “You don’t seem like your normal self.”

Eddie could tell by the way your eyes widened and your breathing stuttered that he caught you off guard. Once you gather your bearings, you offer him a shy smile that comes as quickly as it goes.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’m fine,” you looked down at your shoes, shaking your head solemnly. “It’s…it’s stupid. But thanks anyway,” you said, voice breaking along with Eddie’s heart.

You walked away before he could press any further.

_______________________________________________

Now that school was out, Eddie could finally head home and brainstorm ideas on how to return Sabbath to her rightful home.

Eddie sauntered through the trailer door, shopping bags full of canned cat food in tow, as he shook the rain from his wet hair like a dog. He turned to Wayne, lounging in his usual spot on the armchair, only this time he wasn’t alone.

“Boy, if you don’t get this damn cat off of me…”

Sabbath looked perfectly happy, stretched out on Wayne’s jean covered legs. Blissfully unaware that he wanted her off of him. Or maybe she just didn’t care. She sent Eddie, what could only be described as a smile as he walked over and delicately scooped her up. She protested a little with a long closed mouth “mew”, then settled into his arms, hugging him around the neck once more.

Wayne looked up at Eddie, ocean eyes flooded with disapproval.

“I know, I know. It’s the last time I swear,” Eddie defended.

His Uncle stayed silent.

“I couldn’t just leave the poor thing, she wouldn’t have survived. She’s a lover, not a fighter!”

Wayne's face stayed the same, only lifting the corner of his brow at him.

“I’m looking for her owner, I swear. She definitely belongs to someone.”

At that, Wayne lifted himself from his armchair with an “old man grunt”, as Eddie liked to call it. His Uncle gave him a loving pat on the shoulder as he walked past him, heading to the bathroom to get ready for his night shift at the plant.

Eddie spent the rest of the evening making posters out of cheap printer paper, writing on them with a giant black magic marker.

“Found Cat

Black, long hair, green eyes”

Eddie added his phone number and called it good. It wasn’t much to go off of, but he figured there couldn’t be too many missing black cats out there in Hawkins.

Eddie flicked the pen cap towards Sabbath, watching as she swatted it off the edge of the table and chased it around. Soon she riled herself up so much that the zoomies overcame her, running from one end of the trailer all the way into Eddie’s room and back again. He found himself completely entertained just by watching this cat do cat things that a couple hours went by without him even noticing.

Eddie was hoping the rain would subside but this was Indiana, the weather never did what you wanted it to do. He wanted to get the word out sooner, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Not that he was complaining. Fondness blossomed in his chest as Sabbath trotted over to him and rubbed the top of her soft head against his chin. Then she settled on his lap for the rest of the evening.

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6:14. This morning, Eddie managed to sleep in. Although he would’ve much rather slept longer, he was pleasantly surprised to have a couple extra hours.

That was until he realized why he had woken up. Sabbath was meowing continuously, barely stopping to breathe. Jumping back and forth from the pillow Eddie was resting his head on, to the top of his dresser that was set in front of his bedroom window. When she leaped up, sliding a bit on the smooth surface, she scratched at the window overlooking the front yard. Eddie sluggishly pulled himself up and out of bed to see what Sabbath was getting so worked up about.

You were riding your bike in the soft glow of the morning, tires crutching in protest as you slowly pedaled. You kept your eyes and head moving, scanning the area diligently. In one hand you gripped the handle bars, in the other you held a small bag of cat treats that you were shaking every few seconds. Hope lightens your eyes at the sound of Dungeon’s meows, but it dissolves instantly when he’s not the one you’re looking for.

Eddie watched as Sabbath propped herself up on her back legs and began scratching at the single paned glass window like she could dig her way through. When she looked back at Eddie, begging him to understand her pleas, he patted her head softly and moved towards the front door.

By the time Eddie stepped outside you had stopped your bike and were silently sobbing in the middle of the road. Your back was partially turned to him but he could tell by the quivering of your shoulders and the slouch of your neck that you were overwhelmed with emotion.

“Hey Y/N!” Eddie greeted, louder than he intended.

Eddie cringed slightly as you jumped three feet into the air, dropping the open bag of treats in the process. The clowder of strays devours the fallen snacks in seconds before running off into the woods. Not before Ozzy could send Eddie a look that portrayed his disappointment in him for not feeding them earlier in the morning.

“Ah, shit. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no it’s alright,” you sniffed hard and vigorously wiped your face before turning to Eddie, playing it off like you weren’t just weeping.

As Eddie got closer he noticed the plastic cat carrier zip tied to the back of your bike and the pile of clothes in the basket attached to your handlebars. You watched him scan your bike, his eyes sparkling with what you misinterpreted for judgment.

“Sorry, I’m just looking for…for my cat,” you sent him a tightlipped smile and sniffed back your tears.

“She must be some cat, huh?” Eddie couldn’t stand to leave you hanging for any longer, watching your face crumple as you nodded. He smiled softly, “she wouldn’t happen to be a fluffy black cat, would she?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful. The last remnants of your tears sliding down your cheeks as you blinked owlishly at him. Your mouth was agape in an attempt to respond, but all you could manage was a frantic nod.

Eddie walked backwards slowly and smiled playfully, dimples on full display as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. He swiftly spun around before jogging up his front steps to open his front door. You watched him curiously before you noticed what emerged from his trailer.

“KITTY!” a sob ripped through your throat as you lurched forward, bike clattering to the ground in the process.

“Kitty?” Eddie mumbled to himself incredulously.

He watched as the relief you were feeling had a physical effect on you. Your knees wobbled, feet crossing over each other as you ran forward. It would’ve taken you down had you not been so eager to reach the feline. Whimpers cracked through your chest when you finally met in the middle, ‘Kitty’ being just as excited to get to you. You expertly scooped her up and let her snuggle into your hair as you clung to each other. The way you held one another reminded Eddie of how a caring mother would hold her child.

Watching this reunion was something special. Seeing these two beings who were unconditionally in love, coming together after days apart sent a warmth through Eddie’s heart. He felt a bit selfish for being proud of himself for making this happen, but quickly shook it off. That cat definitely wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for him and you would still be heartbroken.

“I was s-so w-worried about you, Kitty,” you blubbered as you pressed kiss after kiss on her soft little head. Your happy tear-filled eyes blinked up at Eddie, “t-thank you so much, Eddie. You have no idea what this means to me, thank you-” before you could back out you gently held Eddie’s face and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Eddie’s face tingled with heat as a blush crept up his neck. He was just standing there, dumbfounded, not expecting the affection but not hating it either. He moved to touch his burning cheek to savor the feeling, but it made you cringe seeing the moisture you left behind.

“S-sorry,” you said with a wet laugh.

“Don’t apologize. I should be thanking you,” Eddie said, still in a lovesick daze.

“What? You’re the one that saved my cat!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one that kissed me!” Eddie would like to say that his flirting was smooth and intentional, but really he was just flabbergasted that someone as sweet and pretty as you would give him any sort of attention.

You barked out a surprised laugh as Kitty moved to nuzzle her face into the other side of your neck. You wiped at the tears and snot still caked on your face, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your emotional outburst.

“Sorry,” you apologized again, “I feel kinda stupid for crying so hard over a cat.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie said with a smile and a soft head shake that made his curly hair float around his shoulders.

You sniffed, “saying what?”

“That your emotions are stupid. Like it’s some offense to be sad and worried about the greatest cat in the world.”

Eddie’s words surprised you. You scanned his face, looking for anything that would suggest he’s teasing or making fun of you. Luckily, it wasn’t there.

“You…you think she’s the great cat in the world?”

“Yeah! What’s not to like? She’s affectionate, entertaining, and really fucking cute. I’d probably lose my mind if I was the one to lose her. I mean, she’s a cat that hugs. What’s better than that?”

You gasped dramatically, turning to look at the cat still in your arms, “you hugged him? What a little traitor! She usually only hugs me,” you giggled.

Eddie was shocked, yet flattered. “She must be a good judge of character,” he said with a smug grin.

“Yeah, that explains why she hates my parents.”

Eddie erupted in laughter, catching you off guard. You didn’t mean to make a joke but it was kind of funny. Your chortles mixing together and echoing throughout the quiet trailer park.

Your cat pulled back from your neck so she could look back at Eddie and send him a grateful “meow” and a slow blink. Eddie reached out to stroke behind her ears lovingly. It made you tense for a second, scared she’d take a swipe at the metal-head but instead she leaned into his touch.

“You like that, don’t you Sabbath?” he cooed, the pitch to his voice raising an octave.

“You named her Sabbath?”

“Oh, uhh y-yeah,” Eddie said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, it was just a placeholder name until I found her owner.”

You nodded slowly as a knowing smile slithered across your lips, “Black Sabbath. Very clever.”

Eddie could have proposed to you right then and there. Instead, he would have to settle for dinner and a movie.

_______________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

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#stranger things #fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #mutal pining #friends to lovers #canon divergent #reader #80s #black cat #y/n #netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #wayne munson

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upsidedownmvnson · 1 year

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temptation vol 2 | eddie munson

vol 2 of temptation

warnings: dangerous driving, teasing, intentional seduction, so much talk of sex, teasing teasING, pervy at some points

barely edited

a/n: im not sorry, engage for part 3 ;)

You stood in the mirror looking at the skirt. It was a nice skirt. It was short, white and pleated, resting on your thigh in a way that made you feel confident. Especially knowing how it made Eddie feel. He hand his hand on your thigh the entire drive home. And you knew exactly what it meant to wear it on your date with him.

You were basically screaming "Eddie Munson! I want you to fuck me!"

And really you were. You wanted him so bad, and you knew he wanted you. So waiting any longer was unnecessary suffering. And if you went just one more day without Eddie bending you over and taking you, well, you were going to explode.

You wore long white socks with little blue bows on each one, and a blue shirt tucked into the skirt. You thought you looked great, and you really did.

There was a knock at your door, and you rushed to the door to get it. Eddie was obviously the one on the other side, hiding behind a bouquet of flowers. When he moved the flowers and took a second to look at you, he bit his lip.

"We should go," he said, grinning at you. "I'd love to buy you dinner tonight and if we don't leave immediately that's not going to happen."

"Dinner can wait," you shrugged, reaching out for the flower. You set the flowers on the small table by the door, and looked over your shoulder at him. "If you want to come inside."

"No, no, no, temptress. You are a lady and you shall be wined and dined, and then I'll get you into bed. But first," he scooped up your hand, and brought it to his lips with a sly smile. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "Let me take you to dinner."

You smiled as he led you to his van, his hand still holding yours. He opened the van door for you, bowing dramatically before you get in. You curtsied at him, grabbing the corners of your skirt to bring it up more, leaving very little to the imagination. Cheeks a bright shade of red, Eddie knocked the skirt out of your grip, looking around and holding the material by your thighs.

"You little minx, get in the van."

"Yes sir," you said, pouty lip making it anything but innocent. He closed his door behind you, shaking his head. You were going to drive him crazy over dinner and you both knew it.

You watched him as he shuffled around the front of the van to get in, he winked at you when he caught your stare through the window.

"Like what you see?" he asked, climbing into the van and starting it up.

"So much," you said, leaning on console to get a little closer. "What about you?"

"I like it so much that if I look at you too long I'll have to pull over and you know it," he said, reaching across to put a hand on your thigh. His fingers were rough and warm over your skin, while his rings were still cool. "All dolled up like this for me?"

You blushed, your earlier confidence fading a bit as Eddie leaned into it. He looked over you for one second longer before making a happy noise and driving away. His grip never moved, he kept a tight grip on your thigh during the short drive.

Inside the diner was nothing too fancy, perfect place for a burger and milkshake. You knew it wouldn't be anything fancy, and just being here with him was perfect.

Eddie grabbed your hand, leading you to a booth. You two slid in across from each other, looking at the little menu right away.

"I'm getting waffles," you said, "with strawberries and cream."

"Of course you are," he laughed, deciding on a burger for himself. "You know, you really do look beautiful, as always, m'lady."

"And you look just as handsome as always," you said, flashing him a sweet smile. The diner was unusually slow for a Saturday, it was really a great luck day for Eddie. There were only two other full tables.

The food didn't take long at all, and after delivering it, the waitress went outside for a smoke break.

"Aren't we supposed to make small talk now?" you asked, leaning forward towards the table a bit. Eddie was looking down at your chest, head in another dimension.

"Small talk is for people who don't already know the other person," Eddie said, breaking his gaze and eating some fries. "I know you."

"Do you know me?"

"Oh baby, I know everything."

He didn't know everything. He didn't know that under table you were squirming in that skirt he likes so much. But this was different than last time, now it was your shirt that he had a view down. But this time, you did it on purpose. You shuffled your arms a bit, making sure you were putting on an innocent show for him. He said nothing.

"I know your favourite movie, how you take your coffee, what kind of music you listen to." He rattled on, "and I know that you care about me, more than anybody ever really has except for like, a really long time. And I know that you are probably the kindest, most beautiful person on this earth. Who deserves the absolute best." Eddie grinned, not being able to hold a serious tune. "Which is me, of course."

"I think you're secretly a softie in there," you said, gathering up a forkful on strawberries with whip cream on it. You were going make him feel as desperate for you that you were for him.

"It's not really a secret, but I do save it all for you." Eddie smile. "That's not a joke."

You smiled softly at the sweetness Eddie has been displaying. You knew he would be the perfect gentleman, but it was just so nice to revel in the moment. You and him, finally making things happen after months of pining over each other.

You bit the strawberry off the fork in a way you knew would make the whip cream fall, and land directly on your cleavage.

"Ugh, sorry. I'm just so messy today," you mused, maintaining an innocent and composed posture.

You used your fingers to try and wipe it off, but just smudged it a little worse. You put the fork back on your plate, and sucked a finger into your mouth slowly, using the other hand to wipe it up a little more. Eddie was staring at you like you were the sun, slack jawed and squinting slightly like he couldn't believe it.

You dragged your finger out slowly, popping the next one in your mouth to lick the whip cream off. You were looking down at your chest, feeling pretty confident that it was working, and looked up at him. He was watching you intently. You let that finger drag passed your lips as well.

"What is it?" you asked, your fake sweetness fooled him, and he shuffled in his seat, not looking away from the sight in front of him for a second.

"There's still some..." he trailed off his sentence and just kind of gestured to his own chest wildly.

"Oh," you said, looking down again, you made sure to move your hair to give him the best view. You grabbed some napkins from beside you, and placed a couple extra right by the edge of the table. Those were part two of the plan. You wiped the cream off your chest, and then knocked the napkin behind you with your elbow.

"Oh my god," you laughed, "I'm the worst today."

Eddie said nothing, just watched as you spun around in the booth and put a knee on the seat to bend around the back of the booth and grab the napkins off the floor. It was a bit of a stretch, but worth it when you heard Eddie groan on the other side of the table. Your skirt was riding way up, giving Eddie a peak of your ass, just a little bit, and the baby blue panties you were wearing.

Eddie looked around the room, people were so wrapped up in themselves they didn't see you two. Eddie reached over, landing a hard smack against your ass cheek. It was loud but no one looked. You made a little noise at the pain and the sound, quickly shooting back up straight again. Eddie was smirking.

Your panties were intentionally the same shade as the shirt, so while Eddie looked at you, all he could think about was your panties.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked, grabbing your hand from across the table. "Baby, I need you."

"You're supposed to dine me," you said, crossing your arms and pouting.

"Then eat," he said, inching your plate closer to you. He slipped over to your side of the booth, and you resisted the urge to kiss him right there. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and the other, reached over to rest on your thigh. He kept an eye on the other patrons over his shoulder.

"Eddie," you whispered, hesitating with the bite of food you had.

"It's okay," he said, voice sweet and comforting, "I've got you."

What was less sweet, was the wandering hand making it's way painfully slowly up your thigh. No one has ever done anything slower than Eddie dragging his hand.

"Okay, you're right I'm not hungry."

"Baby," he cooed, "you gotta eat. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't make sure you were totally satisfied..."

"I didn't know you were my boyfriend," you whispered, taking another bite of food.

"Not right now, but by tomorrow I'm sure." He grinned, his confidence making you ache for him even more.

"You can take me home," you said, grabbing a messy forkful of food and eating it, letting the syrup and whip cream stain your lips. You licked it off slowly, and Eddie shuffled in his seat, but didn't break.

"C'mon baby girl," he mumbled, "just be patient. We've been waiting this long, what's ten more minutes?"

Ten more minutes and you might explode. No, ten more minutes and you'll definitely going to explode. How was he so come in this situation.

"Well, I'm not hungry anymore." You crossed your arms and leaned into him. He smirked, seeing you tuck into his hold.

"Okay, well that's all you had to say," he said, usual grin on his face. "Let's get out of here."

You guys left money on the table, letting the waitress know while she smoked her second, or third cigarette.

Eddie led you by the hand around the side of the van, opening the door for you like the secret gentleman he was. He got in after, starting the van and taking you back to the trailer.

Eddie had his hand on your thigh, and the contact was warm and comforting. But in your head, you begged him to move it higher. You needed the tension to be over now, you needed it to be replaced with pleasure and fun before you crumbled entirely. Eddie looked calm, happy even, as he drove the way to the park.

But really, all Eddie could think about was how stupid hot you looked, fucking him with your eyes and making little whining noises. And the squirming, he was starting to think you didn't know that you did it. Squirmed around in your seat when you want his attention. He wanted you to be all for him.

"Eddie," you whispered, reaching over to touch his neck, to trace mindless shapes under his ear. "Eddie, please."

"You are so needy," he mused, smiling to tease you a little bit. "Just for me though, I'll take care of you every day." He squeezed your thigh a little and you bit your lip.

"Just for you," you whispered, running your hands to the edge of your skirt. "It's all just for you baby," you cooed, flipping the edges of the skirt up.

It took a moment for Eddie to notice, but when he did he took his eyes off the road, focusing totally on you. He shook his head to clear himself of you, but he couldn't. He tried to keep his eyes on the road. But between the front of your blue panties, and his hand on your thigh, he was going to crash the car. He smacked the skirt out of your hands, gripping your upper thigh and holding the material down.

"Now I know you're doing it on purpose," Eddie mumbled, giving your thigh a squeeze. "You like driving me crazy."

"Well you like the ride," you answered flippantly, and he couldn't disagree. He liked this ride with you very much. But not just because of the painfully hard erection in his pants threatening to rip the seams of his pants, but also because he genuinely loved you. Morning, afternoon and night, you were always on his mind. He knew you felt the same. You guys just needed to fuck so you could love each other properly.

At the trailer, Eddie rushed you inside. You'd been there a million times, you didn't need a tour. He kissed you from the entrance to the bedroom, tripping occasionally on some random stuff on the floor. His hands were cupping your cheeks, trying to pull your closer than what was possible. He needed all of you, all the time.

You were already over the moon. Already overstimulated by the pure pleasure of having his hands on you. And his mouth. It was so soft and sweet, kissing you like meant something. He was kissing you like it was the most important thing happening in the world.

He made it to the bed, and let you drop to sit on it. You looked up at him so nicely, and he had to bite his finger to stop from unzipping his pants and helping himself to your mouth. But he didn't want that right now, he would probably blow his load just by seeing his cock in your mouth, after so many lonely nights imagining.

Maybe later though.

You pushed yourself back on the bed, and he crawled above you. Slowly pressing his body into yours. He mumbled, "you're so beautiful," before kissing you again, this time slow and more tender than you'd ever experienced with anyone else. "Can I be your boyfriend now?" he asked, grinning and pulling away.

"Yeah, I think I can make that work." You smiled, and he smiled too, happier than you knew. So happy he couldn't even keep kissing you because both of you were smiling so wide.

His hand trailed down your body, and the happy smiles faded when his fingers brushed across the skin of your hips. Eddie had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and you were just watching his beautiful features, wondering what he was thinking while he scanned over your body. You knew it was good, you could tell by the look of love in his eye and the raging boner pushing against your thigh.

Eddie cautiously slid the material of the shirt up, going slow enough to give you lots of time to reject him. But you wanted it off faster. You wanted the teasing to be over and his lips attached to every party of your chest and stomach. He pulled the shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. His hand quickly returned to the skin of his hip, as he wedged his leg under your thigh to get better wrapped around you.

Eddie was taking his sweet time. Treasuring every second of exploring your body. Wayne was supposed to be gone all night, so he thought he had the time. He kissed the skin of your shoulder, before working a line of small hickeys and kisses along your collarbone, cursing the bra strap in the line of the kisses, so he looped a finger through it and slid it off your shoulder, just out of the way. Your arms were wrapped around him, holding him in a loving way he's not sure he's ever felt.

He groaned when he looked at his work. They were surface hickeys, would be gone in no more than a day, but just the sight of his marks on your skin made his cock twitch. He ran a finger along the line, and looked up at your expectant eyes. He brought the same finger to your mouth, and dragged it along the bottom. You brought it into your mouth, sucking it slowly. He let it drag out slowly.

"You're a dirty little thing," he whispered. "My dirty little thing."

"I want to be your dirty little thing," you answered, sweetly. Shyly. Just the sound of those words on your tongue is something he'd never forget.

"You are, baby. You're doing so good, just let me take care of you," he whispered, closing in on you mouth again. He kissed you. His touch was sending fire through your stomach.

"Please take care of me," you whispered through kisses.

"No," Eddie whispered, shooting away from the kiss. "Oh no, no, no..." he saw your worried look and kissed you really quickly twice, "oh sorry baby, not you. You're so good, I'm gunna take care of you but I swear I heard..."

The front door of the trailer rattled, and Eddie kicked the bedroom shut quickly.

"A shirt," Eddie scrambled, "you need a shirt."

He threw the first one he grabbed at you, and you slipped it on. Eddie tucked himself into his belt and put on a sweater. He frowned when he looked at you, but you were smiling. He was just too fucking cute. You were still feeling the ache to jump into his arms, and let him throw you down to ravage you, but, what's another day? At least he was your boyfriend. He pulled you in by the elbow for another kiss, but his smile faded when he saw you had put on his Hellfire shirt.

"You need a different shirt," he said, looking away from you. "That one is..."

"Yours?"

"Distracting."

"Eddie?" Wayne called. "You here?" Wayne opened the door and stumbled a bit, but stopped when he saw you were both fully dressed. "Shit, sorry y/n. I'm not used to Eddie having girls over. I'll be more mindful of knocking."

"Thanks, Wayne." Eddie thumbs'd up his uncle subtly slipping in that he never had girls over before you. You laughed.

Wayne left the room after saying bye. Eddie pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms snugly around your shoulders, letting you totally bury yourself in his chest.

"Now what?" you asked, breathing him in. He smelled like summer, and weed.

"Wanna watch a movie with Wayne?"

TAGLIST: @81rain @tlclick73

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #st4 #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n

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