𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒂

Uhhh.... uhmmmm.... Im busy........... hmm mm.......

summary: nothing but sunshine, soft kisses, and Eddie Munson ❤️🌿

pairing: eddie munson x reader

tags: soft!eddie x you, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, summer vibes, lazy day, cuddling, sun-warmed skin, slow kisses, tender moments, domestic fluff, quiet intimacy, grass tickle wars, sleepy affection

warnings: teen, kissing, sugar overload, floss after reading ♡

words: ~900

notes: dang, I miss him ☆

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Hidden beneath the sprawling canopy of an old sycamore, the world felt wonderfully distant. Sunlight danced through the leaves overhead while a warm breeze stirred the branches, carrying with it the soft rustle of tall grass and the occasional chirp of crickets and birds.

Time seemed to lose all meaning here.

Eddie leaned comfortably against the wide trunk, one leg stretched lazily through the grass while his other rested loosely bent beside him. Curled comfortably between his legs, you rested against his side, neither of you paying any attention to where one of you ended and the other began. Your head nestled against Eddie's chest as though you'd simply drifted there without ever intending to move again. One hand lay lightly on his shoulder, your legs tangled with his in the easiest kind of closeness.

One of Eddie's arms rested securely around your waist, holding you close. His other hand drifted idly along your back, fingertips absentmindedly wandering up and down your spine in a rhythm almost as steady as the heartbeat beneath your ear.

Ba-bump... ba-bump...

Your breathing had fallen into step with it long ago.

The warmth of the afternoon settled over you, mingling with the scent of sun-soaked grass, wildflowers and Eddie himself, until everything blended into something so peaceful it became almost impossible to keep your eyes open.

Sleep tugged gently at your eyelids.

Something feather-light grazed your ear.

Without opening your eyes, you scrunched your shoulder, convinced a stubborn fly had decided to make you its newest victim. The sensation disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

Only to tickle your cheek a moment later.

A tiny frown tugged at your face as you gave your head a sleepy shake before settling right back into Eddie's embrace, determined to ignore whatever tiny nuisance had declared war on your nap.

Something skimmed teasingly across your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open.

A single blade of grass hovered inches from your face.

Eddie looked impossibly innocent.

The tiny grin threatening the corner of his mouth gave him away long before he gently brushed the blade of grass over the tip of your nose once again.

His quiet laugh rumbled softly beneath your cheek, the gentle vibration drawing an almost sleepy smile from your lips. Instead of looking up, you simply breathed him in, slow and deep.

His scent wrapped itself around you like another layer of warmth—sun-kissed skin, clean cotton, and the faintest trace of sweat from spending the afternoon beneath the summer sun. It was a scent that had long since become comfort itself.

With every steady breath Eddie took, you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the slow rhythm soothing enough to lull you right back toward sleep.

Leaning softly against him, you could feel the warmth of his skin just beneath the collar of his shirt, invitingly close. Without giving it a second thought, you tilted your head ever so slightly and let your lips linger in a soft kiss against the side of his neck.

His skin quivered faintly beneath your lips, carrying the salty taste of the summer heat.

You felt him pause.

Only for a heartbeat.

His fingers stilled against your back before resuming their path, slower now, as though he were suddenly far more aware of every gentle touch between you.

When you finally lifted your head, Eddie was already looking at you.

The playful grin from moments before had softened into something quieter, something so openly fond it made your chest ache in the sweetest way. He didn't say a word as he leaned down, leaving only the smallest breath of space between your faces until your noses almost brushed.

Neither of you felt any need to hurry.

Your lips found his in a kiss that was as familiar as it was effortless—warm, slow, and impossibly gentle. His slightly unshaven jaw brushed against your skin, the pleasant scratch of stubble making you smile before you even realized you were doing it. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, the tip of his nose felt cool where it rested against yours.

Without thinking, you shifted just a little closer, settling more comfortably against him. Eddie's hand slipped to your waist, his thumb absentmindedly tracing slow circles through the fabric as though it had always belonged there.

Eventually, the kiss melted into nothing more than shared breaths, neither of you moving far enough to break the quiet little world you'd created. For a long moment, you simply existed there together.

There it was again.

The tenderness in his gaze.

The one that somehow managed to quiet every thought in your mind until the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

A smile tugged at your lips as you settled back against his chest once more, listening to the familiar rhythm beneath your ear.

Ba-bump... ba-bump... ba-bump...

Your smile only grew.

His heartbeat wasn't nearly as steady anymore. It had quickened ever so slightly—just enough for you to notice.

You never grew tired of that sound.

Never tired of knowing you were the reason it changed.

Closing your eyes once more, you let yourself drift with its comforting rhythm, perfectly content to stay there for as long as the afternoon would allow.

Then...

Something feather-light tickled your cheek.

The smile on your face widened before your eyes had even opened.

"Fuck me," He groans into the pillow, his hand wrapping around his thick cock as he jerks himself off aggressively. His other hand reaches out blindly for lube, knocking over a few D&D miniatures in the process. "Shit..."

He growls in frustration, kicking at his nightstand. "Come on... come on..." The lube tube had been empty for days. God, why did he keep waiting until the last second to buy more? It was always the last second.

His mind flickers to you.

The image of you infiltrates his mind without permission, soft, elusive, drifting through the hallways like a ghost. He squeezes his eyes shut, his breath hitching as his strokes falter. It was pathetic, really, getting himself worked up over the girl who hid inside oversized sweaters and barely spoke above a whisper.

But god, (Y/N).

His hand moves faster, slicking himself with spit now because he's too far gone to care about the mess. "(Y/N)..."

He pants your name brokenly, hips snapping up into his fist. You were the complete opposite of him quiet where he was loud, soft where he was jagged. The mental image of you drowning in one of your oversized sweaters, those big, shy eyes looking up at him...

It ruins him. "Fuck... baby..." He strokes himself desperately. "My pretty girl..."

His head falls back against the pillow, messy hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead. The fantasy bleeds into reality, the thought of you crawling onto his messy bed, shy and trembling, letting him peel back those oversized layers to reveal the soft girl underneath.

"I'd treat you so good," he grits out through clenched teeth, his strokes becoming punishingly fast. He imagines your small hands hesitantly reaching out to touch his chest, his abs, his... *his dick*. He loses it, coming hard with a choked groan into his own hand. "...fuck..." His body shakes with the intensity of the release he gave himself over you.

His whole body jolts, a strangled sound ripping from his throat as he spills across his knuckles. The release hits him like a freight train, white-hot and overwhelming, forcing him to arch off the mattress. His hips buck upward, thrusting into his fist as thick ropes of cum coat his hand, spilling over his skin and onto the tangled sheets beneath him.

"F-fuck..."

His chest heaves, heart hammering against his ribs as the aftershocks roll through him. His cock twitches lazily, still leaking onto his stomach and fingers. He groans pathetically, face flushed, jaw slack, the most uncoordinated expression he's ever worn. Even his D&D voice couldn't summon something this pathetic. "Goddamn it," he mutters, dragging a shaking hand down his face. His cum is cooling on his skin, sticky and humiliating.

He tosses the empty lube tube across the room with more force than necessary. "Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid." He scolds himself. "Getting off to the shy girl? Really, Eddie?"

He stares at the ceiling, chest still heaving slightly, his pulse gradually slowing. His hand moves unconsciously towards his cock—which is already starting to stir again. His dick is already softening and he's still... still half-horny from the afterglow.

Fuck, he thinks. It's worse than that.

It's a problem. A genuine problem.

It wasn't just the sex. It was *her*. The way she bit her lip when she was nervous. The way her oversized sweaters slipped off one shoulder. The way she barely spoke, but when she did... god, that soft voice made his skin prickle.

He'd watched her from across the cafeteria. From across the hallway. From across the fucking parking lot once when he'd seen her leaning against her beat-up car looking like a daydream.

He was Eddie fucking Munson. Leader of the Hellfire Club. Freak. Outcast. Metalhead. He had a reputation. And he was *obsessing* over the shy, quiet girl who barely looked at him. Who probably thought he was a loser and a freak. He groaned, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.

User credit: jacobguy.media on Insta

the munson trailer living room/kitchen, my beloved <3

i KNOW that naps on that couch slap and that heated up canned food made in that kitchen tastes like heaven (the food is made by wayne, eddie cant cook. not even food from a can)

𝐘/𝐍: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway...

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐀: I'm gonna get vertigo...

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄: I'm a Virgo!

𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐀: No you're a virgin.

heat runs down his spine, alighting him in the pleasure you give him. you quite always do know how to make him feel good. your light petting travels upward, from his waist to his bicep, and then youre shuffling towards him until your chest to back.

his breath hitches when he feels your hot breath against his nape, blowing on the baby hairs there. then, youre kissing him softly. slowly, moving from his nape, to the back of his head, back down to his nape, then having him tip a little back and sitting slightly upwards so you can kiss the crook of his neck.

simon doesn't remember what he was doing before, the book in his hand has now just become a weighed block, all previous words in his mind becomes to mush as his body buzzes under your touch. he almost blossoms, cheeks flushing a soft pink and long blonde lashes fluttering shut. all he can feel is your kiss, your tongue, your breath over the veins in his neck, on his jaw, his cheekbones, before youre trailing back to his ear and dipping your tongue lightly into the crevices and he coons.

and then your hands slide down further on his body. fingertips softly grazing his nipples over his shirt, lightly squeezing a pec, before feeling the rough and hard muscle of his abdomen. you explore the skin from over his shirt, remembering the deep ridges here, the dry skin there before finally reaching to the bottom of his pelvis, dipping your fingertips underneath his waistband and treading in the soft hairs of his happy trail before down, down, down and finally your fingers start to feel the pulsing heat of his flaccid cock.

simon is attempting to curl away from you. its already proving too much for him, he's not quite sure where youre exactly touching him anymore, his six senses are all focused on you, the influence of you, but he seems to stop fussing when you push yourself against him.

you slide your other hand underneath his waist, circling around his hip to grab his cock with both hands, needing both to be able to hold his fat prick. its quickly growing hard in your hands, every micro touch sending a shiver up simon's spine. but simons come to realize that you didnt begin kissing him with innocence, but rather mischief and trickery.

instead of working up your usual routine of quickly fucking his cock with your wrist with sloppy, fast motions, youre instead feeling the weight of him in your palms like hes nothing but a mere object. index fingers pressing at the tip of kiss cock, against his slit to make him jump and hiss. its clear this time his pleasure comes second to your amusement, a small chuckle escaping your lips as simon whimpers while you slap his cock against your palm, precum lathering your skin like glitter.

his lady can just be so mean sometimes, he cant help the tears that brim at his waterline from the overwhelming pleasure, youre still lapping at his neck, taking to sinking your sharp teeth into his skin and sucking hard until said bite mark is purple.

finally, simons world begins to spin wildly when your speed on his cock suddenly hastens, working to a harsh pump that makes obscene wet squelches. its then that simon begins begging for mercy, twitching in your hold. this man can easily snap another grown man's neck with a flick of his wrist, and yet hes weak to your meek hold.

with a silent gasp, his muscles are tightening everywhere and for once his world goes silent, his brain buzzing with electricity as he cums. your hand doesnt stop your quick fucking, hot ropes of his semen coating your hand, creating a sticky mess that only gets messier with the frothing of his cum.

soon, simon is whimpering like a dog, you wont stop. youre just biting like a rabid animal at his nape now, humping against his ass, teasing only the tip of his wet cock. its clear now that you are here indeed with not innocence, but mischief and trickery. as simons first orgasm blends into two and his sweet doe eyes roll into his skull, he can only take it.

It is a weirdly peaceful feeling, standing in your kitchen at one in the morning, dishwasher running, smoking a joint and hanging up the laundry. Your brain finally harmonising with the world around, the quiet of the night calming you. It feels like flowing in a natural state, with nobody expecting anything from you.

There is a quick flash of guilt. Should you miss him more? Is it bad that you feel so complete on your own? But maybe it is one of the reasons why you are still in this relationship, whatever it is. That you don't need him to be happy. That you don't want to chain him to this home and neither does he.

And you do miss him. You miss his heartbeat at night, you miss his warmth and his voice and the little ways he shows how he feels. He makes your life easier without making you feel like you depend on it. You could fix the sink. And you will, if he can't come home soon. But you can live with it for a few more days and when he is here, you will look at him without shame when he rolls up his sleeves and grabs the tools. You love watching him work, the way his hands move, the same strength he uses when he lifts you up.

Shit, now you really miss him. One of the few men who can make you feel small, who doesn't give you the unspoken impression that you are too fat, too much. So you do the only reasonable thing. Taking a selfie with your dress dangerously low, smoke escaping your lips and eyes half closed.

/Miss you/ is all you write when you send it, nothing else to add. You don't check if he read it, you know he will, when he is safe and alone.

What you don't expect is a text back a few minutes later, an unfocused picture of his hand grabbing his bulge.

/Bloody hell, you should be sleeping. ETA in 5h, get some rest. You'll need it/

reader and eddie are having a silly argument debate, and you really wanna win. so what does it hurt if you flash your tits at him and… oh, what was eddie talking about again?

“Elsie was a divine caster, not a mage! There is a huge difference.”

Eddie leans back in your bed like a jerk, dark tattoos and pale skin a complete contrast to your blue sheets. He looks imposing against ditsy flower stitching, but he’s at home here. He makes himself comfortable, and if he didn’t you’d force him to.

“Elsie wasn’t a divine caster,” you disagree, kneeling on the floor by your bed with a mountain of unpaired socks beside you, “she never went through the trials. That makes her a simple mage. She would’ve had to submit under the yielded light–”

“Shut up about the yielded light, you don’t even care about that stuff, you just wanna be right.” He grins at you, jaw soft as he slips down into your pillows, bringing a throw cushion against his chest. “You know the yielded light thing doesn’t matter, because Sir Cane was a divine caster and he was from Tolberon.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You bundle what’s left of the unpaired socks back into the tote bag they’re mustering in and close the sock drawer of your bedside table. Eddie’s grinning ‘cos he knows he’s winning the debate and it’s pissing you off because The Anglebird is your favourite book, and not his, and he doesn’t have to be right about everything. “He didn’t need to submit because he wasn’t actually a divine caster, they just didn’t have a word for it in Tolberon, and it’s the same with Elsie. She could have been one, but she hasn’t gone through any of the basic trials.”

“It’s just a title thing. This is like– baby, you’re acting like the government.”

You aren’t gonna win this little argument because Eddie’s a stickler for semantics, but you should. You’re right. You’re sick of being not right and you want him to say it, and you know you have certain powers over your boyfriend. You’d quite like to stretch all demure and sleek like a house cat in the sun until he’s caught sight of the small of your back, but you’re not, like, manipulative.

You put on a fake effect, raising your brows. “Oh, gosh, is it hot in here?” you ask dramatically.

“Huh?”

“I am just overheating like this. Would you– do you mind?” you ask, folding your elbow down into the bottom of your shirt and pulling it upwards, arching into the movement as the fabric slips up your shoulders. With a quick tug, you pull it off of your neck and settle, still kneeling, chest flush with excitement while his eyes go steady on your naked skin. “That’s better.”

“Yeah.”

You drop your shirt on the ground and look down at your chest. Naked chest. No need for a bra so close to bed time. “Oh, shoot, sorry, baby. Indecent exposure. I forgot I wasn’t wearing a vest under here.”

“What do you want?” he asks, eyes warm with affection and a very obvious second emotion as you cross your arms gently over your chest.

You lean a bit into the act. Just softly. Going all hushed and sweet like he likes, not a lie, but not usually a version of yourself you embody with the lights on. “I don’t want anything, Ed, I’m just overheating.” You offer a sad little smile you know he wants to kiss. “Do you understand what I’m saying, though? Divine caster might be a title, but it’s one you have to earn. Elsie’s a super powerful mage, but–”

“Baby, you’re right.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about the whole thing from your perspective as we’ve been talking and Elsie really should’ve had to go through the tribulations of a traditional caster before I give her the title,” he says, all in one breath, his gaze very carefully set in the midpoint between your face and your chest.

You cup the skin where chest so obviously becomes a swell of fat and try not to boast. “You really think so?”

“I barely know what we’re talking about, if I’m honest.” He swallows obviously. You know it is not for show. “I can’t think straight.”

“If Elsie–”

“You’re so perfect,” he says, hiking on his elbows. “Are you coming up here? Please, stop kneeling on the floor. Angel. Please.”