Description: Chrissy is in the middle of a lovely dream where she's resting on a soft cloud. What she doesn't know is that said cloud is about to give her the most interesting wake up call.
Tags: Alternate Universe- canon divergence, alternate universe- everyone lives/nobody dies, established relationship, soft Eddie, whipped Eddie, they're both touch starved okay, smut, HOT DAMN, Chrissy POV, one-shot, status: completed
Hi there! I’m looking for more body worship/pleasure dom fics. The one with Eddie and the shy chunky reader was so gooood
Oh man have I got you covered; this request opened up a chest of inspiration today.
Just the Touch of Your Hand
Highschool had been hell; in the era of super slim, super cute, dainty girls with glossy, sleek hair, you were the furthest thing from an 'it' girl as it was possible to be. Adult life would be different, you told yourself, when you had a job and a place of your own...
Of course, it isn't. Working in a bar with the same super fit, super slim girls, serving the same rude guys who look at you as if terrified a single smile would give you the wrong idea is hell too, God forbid the chubby chick thinks you like her, right?
Is it any wonder you need to let loose now and then? That's what you tell yourself as you drive out to Eddie's trailer. You just need to let loose; the weed is a way to relax and definitely not a way to forget you're... well, yourself, for a few hours.
He opens the door with a wide grin and leans on the frame, his dark hair messy and wild around his face, a sliver of smooth skin showing between his belt and his shirt,
"Y/N," he says and shakes a finger at you, "you're not a cop now, are you?"
"In this body?" You scoff, "no, Just a pissed-off barmaid."
"The cops would be lucky to have that body," he whispers, winking before he turns on his heel, leaving you no chance to reply. You roll your eyes and follow him, closing the door behind you. It's always been the same; he always has something smart to say, but when he plops down on the couch and hands you a baggie you force a smile.
"How much?" You asked, pulling your wallet from your purse,
"Sit and smoke with me and it's free," he says, then spreads his hands in mock surrender, "I'll be a gentleman, I just wanna catch up. Seems like it's been forever." You hesitate; you just want to be alone, but when he smiles at you like that it's hard to say no,
"Ok, Eddie," you sigh as you sit at the other end of the sofa, "let's chat."
He grins like he's won the lottery, and that joy is infectious,
"Great, you want a beer?" He jumps up, clapping his broad hands together,
"Sure," you nod and stretch, letting the cool air the fan blows around the room and the muted music from his bedroom soothe you. He places a can down gently and starts filling a bong.
The problem with Eddie Munson is that he can't help but be charming. The guys in school who called him a freak were assholes; he was weird, sure, but in a goofy, kind of endearing way, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to see the desperate longing in his eyes. He just wants people to like him... boy do I know that feeling,
"So," he blows smoke out in a plume before he hands you the bong, "you're a barmaid."
"Yes." You nod and take the bong,
"Do you like it?"
"Hell no," you laugh and take a drag,
"Fair enough..." he leans back, watching you hold the smoke for a few seconds before you let it go, one hand in his thick hair, "your own place?" You nod. "Hey, that's great."
"Thanks," you say and raise your eyebrows, "it's a shithole."
"Well, it's your shithole and that matters," he says, then winces, "let's forget I said that, it sounded wrong." You nod and laugh, feeling your mood lift despite yourself,
"You graduate yet?" You ask
"No," he said and grins, "but this is my year, Princess, I can feel it."
"I bet it is, too," you say as you pass the bong back, folding one leg under you, "You still seeing that chick? With the red hair?" He shakes his head,
"Nah, she moved to Portland." He shrugs as if it's nothing, but you can hear a little hurt in his voice,
"Shame," you murmur, hating yourself for being glad. He's just too cute, even if there's no chance, "she seemed nice."
"She was," he says and then his eyes slide to you with a mischievous glint in them, "you got a boyfriend these days?"
"No."
"A girlfriend?" He asks, wiggling his brows,
"No, Eddie," you say and slump back into the soft cushions. He frowns,
"Why not?" He asks, "no-one you like?"
"No-one that'll have me." The ceiling is stained with smoke, but the lights are clean. Everything is strangely clean. He scoffs and leans forward and the smell of his aftershave seeps into the air between you, fresh and sharp
"Then they're idiots," he whispers conspiratorily,
"Nah - I don't mind."
"You should have some poor guy wrapped around your little finger," he says and his eyes are warm and dark. The way he looks at you, it feels... wrong. Nice, but wrong. This isn't the way men talk to you.
You sit up, heart hammering, certain there's a blush spreading across your cheeks.
"Anyway, that's all for guys, really," you say, scrambling for something that will take those eyes away from you,
"Dating?" He asks with a quizzical grin, eyes already a little hazy. You shrug, suddenly embarrassed,
"Yeah, no, I dunno, Eds," you say and take a drag from the bong, "the whole... all the stuff that comes with it, you know?" You shake your head, feeling the world go soft and hazy, "the.. sex stuff. It's not really for girls... well, girls like me. We just kind of put up with it... or... you know, not, in my case." You laugh, but he isn't laughing along. "Guys don't really like me," you confide in him without any filter, yeah, that's what weed does dumbass, "but I don't mind."
You realize you've shocked him, you must have because he's silent and there's a line between his brows. When he opens his mouth, at first, he says nothing, and by the time he thinks of something to say the phone rings, calling his attention,
"Stay... right there," Eddie says and crosses to answer it. As he speaks into the phone, you realize you've said too much, but by the time you're gathering your purse, he's back, and he's on his knees in front of you looking at you with that same strange, almost hurt look, "ok, look, before you go..." he says, "I know you probably think you said too much, but you didn't."
"Ok," you say, and your voice is small,
"I'm sorry some shitbag made you feel like you're not good enough, " his hands land on your knees and they're so big. Your head spins. "You are. You're more than good enough... and any idiot that made you think it's 'not for you'," he makes air quotes, "if I ever find 'em, I'm gonna run them over with my van."
He's so earnest that you laugh and cover your mouth, and this time he does laugh with you. But he reaches up and takes your hand away from your face,
"Don't hide that pretty smile," he says softly, "please."
"Ok," you say, standing up with his help. Eddie presses a fresh baggie into your hand,
"Drive safe," he whispers, "and don't be a stranger.... please."
Just like that, you're in the sticky night air again; you stop your car and take a few deep breaths. Did that really happen? As if in answer to your unspoken question, his trailer door opens,
"No," Eddie almost shouts, "you know what," he leaps the steps from his trailer and crosses the ground between you, pushing a broad hand into your curls moments before he stoops to kiss you. It's hard and needy and feverish; you whimper into his mouth and let his weight push you back against the side of your car. He doesn't cop a feel, but the way his hand grips your hip has the same feeling; like you're helpless and exposed and completely at his mercy.
He pulls away, eyes bright and glittering in the gloom,
"Sex is not just for guys, Y/N, it's for girls too... especially girls like you," he whispers and rubs his nose against yours, "do you believe me?"
"I..." the words don't come; you're trembling, silent, and his face starts to shift,
"Shit, sorry -" he mutters, "I'm a fucking idiot, I'm sorry-" You cut him off with a kiss because it's the only way you can express what it is you wish you could find the words to say, and he turns to you like a sunflower following the light.
"I'm not sure I believe you," you whisper when you pull away, "but you can try to prove me wrong if you like."
He grins like you've given him the world and takes your hand,
"I will," he says and steps back, not tugging or pulling you, just inviting you to follow, and God it could be a bad idea but you do. All the way to his bedroom where he pulls off his shirt like it's nothing. You wish you had his confidence; the thought of taking off the loose, long dress you're wearing is like ice down your back, and he sees that, "hey," he says gently, "it's ok if you changed your mind."
"No... I haven't I'm just..." you trail off as he approaches,
"Lil' shy?" He teases, but his voice is warm. You nod, "that's ok... do you trust me?" You nod; you always have. He's a nice guy, really a nice guy; the kind of good person that wouldn't let anyone be pushed around. He was always kind to you, and that doesn't seem to have changed. When Eddie trails a hand along your arm, you shiver; the next kiss is gentle and slow. And it goes on and on until you think you'll lose your mind; as you slump against him, his arms slip up around your waist and he holds you like it's easy. Like you weigh nothing, "can we lose this?" He murmurs, tugging the skirt of your dress gently.
Time to be brave, Y/N, it's now or never.
You nod and help him undo the buttons down its front, but you keep your eyes closed as it slips away and the cool air tickles the fine hairs on your arms and belly.
Silence.
Then he whistles through his teeth,
"Where have you been hiding?" He asks, voice a little thick. When you open your eyes they don't meet Eddie's, because his are fixed on your body. He takes a few steps around you, and for a moment it's hard not to feel like a rabbit being circled by a wolf. Then he steps up behind you and kisses the side of your neck, fingers tracing along your hips and waist,
"Nowhere," you whisper,
"You've been hiding in these baggy dresses," he mutters, "you shouldn't have, Princess, you're perfect." Those big, warm hands slide over your skin, around to your belly, up to ghost over the fabric of your bra,
"Hardly," you scoff, but he just nips your ear lobe, making you squeak and squirm, and you can feel it against your back, how hard he is. Somehow it makes you feel small. Toes curling in the flat hightops you haven't gotten around to taking off, you're almost floored by a sense of clarity. Of how you must look in your underwear and shoes. It feels vulgar, but not dirty.
It's strange, you realize, how he moves you without pushing or pulling at you. It feel natural to move to the bed, perfectly natural; its like he's guiding you. There's no pressure or negotiation; if I say no, he'll stop. Just like that. He won't even be mad. The thought is like warm water, so when his fingers touch your back, you lie on the bed on your belly without thought, and smile when the thud of his knees hitting the floor shakes the matress.
Lips ghost over your legs and back, his hands slide slowly, almost lazily over you until he snaps your bra strap against your back with a chuckle,
"Hey!" You whine and squirm,
"Sorry, Princess," he says with a laugh, "couldn't resist. Damn I can't believe you're here..." he tugs the strap again, "yes? No?"
"Yes," you murmur, when was the last time you were this relaxed? You can't remember. When the clasp comes free and he gently pulls the bra away you sigh,
"Can't believe you're really here," he says again, "God I wanted you so bad when we had English together." The absurdity of that thought makes you giggle,
"Can't believe I believed you when you said you were gonna be a gentleman," you tease and he feigns offence, lowering the weight of his body onto your back as he whispers,
"I am being a gentleman," he says, "I'm gonna take such good care of you." You roll over, almost by your own volition, but raise your arms. This time he does pull; pulls them down, "none of that," he mutters and lowers his head to kiss the skin under your collarbone, working down to lick your nipples, placing a kiss on each one, "don't hide from me. Promise?" Those eyes are like pools of warm chocolate. How can you say no to them?
"Promise," you say, and he raises a hand,
"Pinky swear?" There's a teasing edge to his voice, he pushes one leg between yours and shifts, rubbing the rough denim of his jeans against the thin material of your panties,
"Pinky swear," you gasp and wrap your pinky around his, grinning when he leans to kiss it,
"Good, 'cause if you do, I'm gonna have to punish you," he says, grimacing, "detention for you Princess. "
"Gonna make me write lines, Eds?"
"Not what I had in mind," he rubs his leg against you again, eyes flicking over your face as you flush, then leans down, "you cold?"You shake your head, "no? Then why're you shaking?"
"I don't, ah, I don't know." When did it get so hot in here? He sighs and sits up, eyes trailing up and down your body until the urge to cover yourself is so strong it's almost tangible. He tuts,
"'Sex isn't for girls like me,'" He mimicks you with a roll of his eyes, "bullshit, this," he runs his hands from your hips up to your breasts before pressing his knee against you firmly, grinning when your thighs squeeze around it, "sweet," he leans to kiss your neck, "soft," another kiss, lower down, "perfect," and another, lower still, "little body is made for it." His chin digs into your belly, his hands tug your panties, "please?" He pouts, dragging laughter out of you again. Are you supposed to laugh this much when you're naked?
You nod.
"Fuck me," he groans, "even your pussy's pretty, what the fuck Y/N?" That's it, the last straw; you buckle, curling around yourself, shaking with laughter, "no, no, no, I know I'm hilarious but you better bring that pretty ass back over here." He says, sniggering. Domineering isn't the word for Eddie Munson, but he manhandles you with ease; the strength in him shocks you as he wrestles you onto your back and presses the length of his body against yours, "you do understand that it's unfair to be this cute?" He's grinning like a child, watching you blush and laugh and shake your head, "it is, yes, it's unfair and it should be illegal, but it won't stop me from eating that pretty little pussy until you scream, so are you gonna behave or do you need a minute?"
"I need, Jesus, Eds, I need a minute," you gasp through the gasps of laughter and the fiery blush. He flops beside you on the bed,
"Fine," he says, turning to look at you, "do you want a beer?"
"No, thank you."
"You want a pop tart?"
"No Eddie," you snort shaking your head,
"So what do you want?" He props himself up on one elbow,
"I want you to lose the jeans, for a start," you say, feeling your nakedness with painful clarity, "even the playing field a little. "
"Oh the playing field," he drawls and hops to his feet, undoing his belt without ceremony, discarding the jeans with a flourish, "you don't fool me," he points, "we both hated gym."
"True..."
Even on his knees, Eddie seems to loom, he can't help it. You smirk as he approaches, putting his elbows on either side of your legs,
"I'm literally on my knees, " he says, "can I please eat that perfect pussy?"
"God you're so rude," the eye-rolling, the admonishment; it's a front. You're shaking, terrified and exhilarated... and maybe, just maybe, enjoying the strange power he's given you.
"Please," he bats his eyelashes comically, dragging you closer until our hips are at the edge of the bed, "pretty please."
"Fine," you drag the word out, trying to mask the shivering excitement that's building in your belly.
He parts your legs like he's opening a gift, which is precious, but there's no time to tell him that; he doesn't start slow. Trying to breathe through the onslaught of sensation is enough to keep self-consciousness at bay until your body understands what it's feeling. The hot press of his maddening, the way his tongue slips over the flesh makes your head spin, and when he sucks, just enough to make you whine with need, your hands find his hair and tug.
Hips moving in time with his rhythm, you suddenly get it. Suddenly all the fuss makes sense; this is what it's supposed to be like. Those half-hearted fumbles with boys who were only interested in being able to say they had fucked anyone feel like they happened to someone else. This is how it should have been.
When you cum, it's like lightning; blinding and sudden hen you, and when you come back down to earth, Eddie's tapping your thigh,
"I do need to breathe," he says, muffled by your legs which, you see, are clamped around him.
"Shut, Eddie, I'm sorry, I-" he cuts you off with a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his lips,
"Don't be, that's exactly how I want to go out." Just like that, it seems to be over; he lies beside you and pulls you close, kissing your forehead and your hair,
"What about you?" You peek up at him and he smiles,
"I'm good," he says quietly, pressing his nose to your hair,
"You don't want...?" It's funny, you don't know how to ask him. It seems silly, this is the perfect time to ask him, just say 'Eddie, don't you want to fuck me?' The words don't come,
"I do," he murmurs, voice hot and sweet in your ear, "but this is about you."
"I want to make you feel good," it's the bravest collection of words you can assemble, so you slip your hand down to cup him while you say them and watch his eyes flutter closed,
"Yeah?" He asks, voice catching,
"Yeah," this time you're the one who moves, trying to put him on his back, but Eddie rolls and traps you under him,
"Well, who am I to refuse a lady," he chuckles and buries his face in your hair as he reaches over to fumble in the drawer of his bedside table, what...? Oh, "sure?" He asks, shaking against you as he pulls a condom free,
"Uh-huh," you can't help but watch him as he pulls his boxers down and kicks them off.
"You're so fucking cute when you blush," Eddie almost growls as he climbs back onto the bed, "... you sure about this?"
"Aren't you?"
"Fuck - what... how the hell can you ask that?" He demands A look of stupefied irritation on his face as you snort,
"Just checking," you say and realize, finally, that all this, the jokes, the teasing, they're to make you less nervous. And it's working, because your legs are up on his hips and you can feel the hard, hot press of him against your entrance... and you don't feel nervous anymore. It's Eddie, and when he sinks into you, muttering something barely audible about how good you feel, about how wet you are, the only words you hear that matter are simple,
"my good girl"
It's that simple, you realize, and that complex; it doesn't really matter what everyone else thinks of your body it doesn't matter if other men don't agree with him. As long as he says those three words again. As long as he holds you close and kisses you just like this, it doesn't matter if your stomach isn't flat, or if it ever is. Because he's got you. "You feel so good," you whisper it into his ear, along with everything else you've wanted to say all night. You tell him he's precious and adorable and handsome, that he makes you feel small in the best way, that he was right, that he proved you wrong and you want to do this again and again, and in the end, he only jokes about not actually being a superhero. So, you both agree to call a pizza and watch a horror movie while you wait.
It had been so long since Steve had only been held by a lover, and it was only then that he had realized that the man holding him in his arms and telling him how soft his hair was, was extremely.. Extremely.. Hot. There was no way in hell that a man this fine could be single. Steve was stuck in his thoughts when he finally realized that the other male was trying to call Steves name and getting him back to focus on him.
“Steve, sweetheart, come back to me.” He softly patted Steves lower back and rubbed it. “Sorry Eds, I was in my head.” “Anything I wanna know?” he shifted so that he could properly look at his face, and Steve smiled and shook his head. Eddie chuckled softly and a light smile crossed his face. He cupped Steves face with one of his hands, his other one still in his hair.
“You’re perfect, my precious Angel.” Eddie smiled brighter, his eyes softening as Steve blushed. “Nooo…. I- uh- eheh-“ he buried his face into Eddie’s chest, flustered. The two laid there for hours, nothing could pop their little bubble, and Steve eventually fell asleep in Eddie’s arms, his hand still in his hair.
Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience, referenced ED
Chapter Count: 4/?
Description: When Chrissy finds herself caught up in Eddie Munson's world of heavy metal, fantasy, and late night ice cream runs she begins to become more and more fascinated by her classmate. But when Eddie gets accused of dealing hard drugs to one of the girls on her cheer squad, resulting in her overdosing, it's up to Chrissy to prove Eddie's innocence. The two embark on an adventure of self-discovery, healing, and mutual pining over the course of spring break and Chrissy finds herself grappling with what she wants out of life, and who she wants to spend the rest of her senior year with.
Tags: Alternate universe- canon divergence, fix-it, mutual pining, soft Eddie, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, slow-burn, found family, they're so dang cute, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: WIP
if you ever did a like magic pt 2 i am desperate to see eddie be soft as hell and realise how much he likes reader and he's just not used to these feelings but he's just a puppy chasing after her now
I love their dynamic so much!!!
Don’t tempt me!!! That fic has been floating around in my mind f o r e v e r so the thought of giving her a sequel could be quite tempting. Always looking for new inspo too though if anyone has thoughts or ideas about Like Magic!Eddie or any other one shot ideas plz plz plz share I love to hear it all
ugh nail painting is always the best soft thought <3
eddie munson would be great at it, because that kid def paints his nails. i feel like he'd alternate between painting one of your nails and then painting one of his, that way you could match and everyone would know that you're his best girl.
also he would def be all gross and sweet and kiss the knuckles of both hands once he was done :,)
ooooh i feel like eddie knows how to paint them like, cool too 😭💕 he'll lay pieces of tape across your nails to get stripes and color blocking and lightning bolt designs and yeah 🥺 ooh and metallics!!!
and you're always matching. you have lots of different designs on all your nails bc he likes to experiment on you but at least one of them always matches with his set 😌💕
