vintagehellfire - Tumblr blog

vintagehellfire · 2 months

Text

Babe I love you but absolutely what the FUCK.

I’m gonna just fling myself into the SUN.

But also the end fucking broke me so how dare you.

You Could Kill Me (and You Should)

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson X Slayer!Reader

Word Count: 16k

Tags: SMUT🔥🔥🔥, dubious consent, memory alteration, reader's pronouns aren't specified, reader has a vagina, oral sex, p in v sex, blood drinking, blood kink, unprotected sex, dom/sub undertones, vampire sex, references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (but you don't have to be familiar to understand this story)

A/N: please read the tags! This work contains depictions of blood and VERY adult content. Minors, do not interact!

Bat divider made by @saradika ❤️

Hunting on game nights was never ideal.

There were too many people around… the double-edged sword of vampire hunting. The great throngs of people made it easy for a poor soul to get lost in the fray, so it brought the baddies out into the open. On the flip side of that coin, what made an ideal hunting ground for vamps created a field of landmines for a Slayer. Throngs of people meant infinite chances to get caught in the open with a wooden stake in your hand, and that brought too many questions.

Still, you could deal with humans; you had been your whole life. Hawkins, Indiana was just like any other town- people would believe what they wanted to believe, and you knew exactly how to spin a story into something they’d find acceptable.

However, if you got caught out in the moonlight with the specific vamp you were hunting, you knew you’d attract the wrong kind of attention. You wanted to fly under the radar here; it was the only way you’d be able to live here long enough to stave off the influx of demons that liked to slip in time to time from the Upside Down- the hell that waited on the other side of this reality. Not every town was as connected to it as Hawkins was, but then again, not every town sat on top of a Hellmouth.

A sound from behind you perked up the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned, making sure the brick wall of Hawkins High protected your back as you surveyed the empty courtyard before you. Everyone within a mile radius who still had a beating heart was in the gym, cheering on the Hawkins Tigers in hopes that the subpar basketball team might actually take home a win tonight.

Well… everyone except for you, whose heart was beating alarmingly fast for someone who had slayed more bloodsuckers than she could count. Why were you this nervous? Aw, who were you kidding, you knew why.

You weren’t hunting just any vampire this time. You were hunting Eddie Munson.

You steadied your turncoat heart with a slow, deep breath. “Stop kidding around, Munson,” you said, keeping your voice low and eerily calm. “You know why I’m out here and I know you’ll only hurt me if you have to, so let’s just cut the formalities and have a little chat.”

A rumbling chuckle sounded from above, and when your eyes flicked up to the sky they were met with the sight of the most elusive and cunning vamp you’d ever had the displeasure of hunting.

Eddie Munson. Or, as he was known amongst the town’s community of bloodsuckers, Kas the Bloody Handed.

“Little chat, huh?” Eddie’s smiling voice echoed from where he sat on the edge of the rooftop above you. “Put away the stake and we’ll talk, Slayer.”

You kept your eyes on him, narrowing your gaze but complying nonetheless. You pocketed the stake, shifting your brown leather jacket to the side and sliding the wooden spike into your waistband.

Were you dealing with any other vamp, you would have laughed in their face at the demand that you disarm yourself when vampires had nearly every advantage against you. You had Slayer strength, sure- but that was it. These demons had speed, strength, teeth, claws- the fact that sunlight would incinerate them was really their only weakness besides their need for blood.

Correction- sunlight should incinerate them. Sunlight didn’t affect Eddie Munson. That wasn’t the only thing that didn’t seem to affect him- bloodlust was apparently not an issue either, seeing how he was a student. At a high school. A building just teaming with sweaty, hormonal teens who were just itching to do something stupid- one would assume that a vampire in a place like that would be draining cheerleaders left and right, but not Eddie. In fact, you’d been watching him for months now since you moved to Hawkins, and you’d never even seen him hurt a fly. Hell, you’d seen kids try and beat him up and yet he hadn’t so much as made a fist since the first time you laid eyes on him.

That was why you’d sought him out tonight- this vampire wasn’t killing people, and it was making you suspicious.

Once your weapon had been safely tucked away, Eddie hopped down from his insane height at the top of the school building and landed swiftly and quietly on his feet in front of you. He smiled at you lazily, his eyes twinkling with the curiosity and glee that came with sharing a secret.

“Excuse my forwardness, but I’ve gotta know-” Eddie began, hands in his pockets as he slowly sauntered toward you. “-how long did I have you going before you figured me out?”

You pushed off the wall, casually placing your hands behind your back as you matched his stride in the opposite direction. You were circling each other, two predators locked in a deadly dance.

“You’re a pretty good actor, Munson.” you replied, voice lighter than air but balanced out by the unwavering rock-solid gaze that remained locked on him. “I might not have figured it out at all if your friend at the hospital hadn’t spilled the beans.”

That got his attention. “Annie ratted me out?” His eyebrows were practically synonymous with his hairline. “Impossible.”

You shrugged. “Apparently HIPAA laws don’t apply to secret bloodbag dealers and their demon customers. In her defense, she was pretty tight-lipped until I had convinced her I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

That stopped Eddie in his tracks. He peered at you through his curtain of moonlit curls, his gaze suspicious and unsure. “You’re not?”

You stood squarely before him at ease. “Nope.” you replied brightly. “And I don’t think you’re trying to kill anyone either… are you, Kas?”

His suspicion gave way to a blinding smile. “Well someone’s been doing their research!” You blinked and he was inches away, his enhanced speed catching you off guard; you instinctively took a step back before instantly regretting it. Eddie caught your momentary lapse in stature and his grin crept upwards in one corner. “Tell you what, killer, how ‘bout we put a pin in all your fun little Kas facts and cut to the chase, hm?”

In a flash his hand held your chin firmly. Your grip flew to the back of your waistband, fingertips already caressing the smooth wood of your stake. You mirrored each other, the two of you standing in a twin stance with one foot placed in front of the other a shoulder’s width apart, his hand at your jaw and yours ready to stake the bastard at the first sign of a threat.

“You’re here to protect people,” Eddie continued, “and I don’t plan on hurting anyone. We can coexist here, it isn’t that complicated.”

“I’m here to slay vampires.” You corrected, but Eddie only grinned and shook his head.

“See, that’s not true- you would have killed me already.” He leaned in, a smug smile only taking up more space on his countenance. “Ain’t that right, Slayer?”

You’d expected that the decision to let Eddie live would come back to bite you in the ass, but surprisingly enough, nothing changed.

You went to school. You hunted. You did normal teenager things. Not once did you witness Eddie Munson do a single thing out of the ordinary.

Well…out of his ordinary. For a bloodsucking demon hiding among human teenagers, he liked attention far more than you’d expected. The more you thought about it, however, the more you saw his reputation for being the town freak as a genius cover. He was hiding in plain sight; any weird behavior would simply be written off as a cry for attention from Hawkins’ resident eccentric. If he wanted to, Eddie could be getting away with a lot more than stolen blood bags.

So why wasn’t he?

You wanted answers, and surprisingly enough you had a feeling that it wouldn’t take too much for him to give them to you. You just needed to find a private place to ask him. Word travels like wildfire after a drought in Hawkins, and even if Eddie didn’t mind the attention, you on the other hand did. You couldn’t afford for people to start associating you with him, so you’d passed Eddie a note at lunch to meet you out in the woods at the old picnic table.

“Did you know I used to do drug deals in this exact place?”

His voice sounded wistful as his body weight caused the weakened wooden bench to creak when he sat down with you later that afternoon. “Those were the days, man.”

You snorted. “You mean the days when you were human? Or are you a bloodsucker and a pill pusher? That’s an intersectionality I can’t say I’ve encountered before-”

“Back when I was human, smartass.” He cut you off, rolling his eyes. “Now, why did Hawkins’ shiny new vampire slayer invite me to meet in the middle of the woods? All alone?” he pretended to think it over for a second, feigning epiphany when his eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead. His voice quivered, apparently auditioning to play the role of the victim in a slasher film. “Are you g-g-gonna k-k-kill me?” He braced his hands against the edge of the picnic table, scrambling to the ground as he amped up the drama while you watched, forcing a smile at bay.

“P-p-please, don’t s-s-slay me, almighty S-Slayer!”

You snorted, shaking your head, unable to completely stop the ghost of a grin from sliding across your lips. “Having fun?” you snarked.

It took only a millisecond- in a blur of supernatural vampire speed, he was back up on his feet and sitting on the surface of the table. “Lots!” His smile was overwhelming- it was easygoing, unguarded, and above all things it was so human. It was disconcerting.

“The reason I asked you out here,” you said, getting down to business. “Is because I have some questions for you.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, that smile staying firmly planted on his lips. “I’m sure you do.”

“How can you be out in the sunlight without bursting into flames?” Every vampire you’d ever encountered would be reduced to ashes if they dared to step out the door in broad daylight, yet here was Eddie Munson- 100% bloodsucker, 100% sitting on a picnic bench and soaking up the rays that filtered in through the cover of tree branches.

“I know a witch.” Eddie replied, eyes following you as you paced around the picnic table. “She did a spell. Next question?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Who’s the witch?”

“Not telling.”

“I figured.” you lamented. “Do the blood bags satisfy you as much as fresh blood?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, then replied with a curt “They’re enough.”

“Enough to stave off the urge to- I don’t know- murder?”

His head whipped sharply in your direction, expression souring. “Have you seen me kill anyone? In all the time you’ve been here, have you ever seen me so much as harm someone?”

You paused. “No.”

Jutting out his chin triumphantly, he straightened his posture a bit. “Then stick to relevant questions, alright killer?”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “Your bloodlust isn’t relevant?”

He scoffed, tightening his grip on the edge of the tabletop he still sat on, and you could have sworn you heard the wood creaking beneath his white knuckles. “You may not be from Hawkins, but with that self-righteous, bigoted attitude you could’ve fooled me.” His head was hanging down, Eddie’s dark eyes trained on his Reebocks which dangled from where he sat.

When he looked up at you through his long, chestnut curls, the gaze he gave you was so disappointed, so intense, that you actually felt a pang of guilt even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d accused a vampire of having bloodlust. What was there to feel guilty for?

“You’re a vampire, Munson. A demon.” you stated, matter of factly. “You need blood to survive, and you’re a killer by nature-”

“You’ve done more killing in this town than I have,” he laughed humorlessly, his voice tinged with exasperation. “-and I’ve lived here my entire life!” Eddie hopped off the tabletop, shaking his head. “I thought you wanted to have an actual conversation with me, but if you’re here to point out splinters and ignore the stakes, then I’m gone. Go interrogate some other vampire.”

You stood your ground, watching Eddie walk back towards Hawkins High as you felt that guilt crawl into your chest and start to burrow there.

You found it ironic that the Hideout was known for both being the bar in town that never carded, and being the bar that vampires frequented the most. It resulted in a clientele that was either immortal or too young to be there.

Your presence in town had slowed down vampire activity quite a bit, but apparently that hadn’t been enough of a deterrent to rid the dive bar of their undead customers for the night. After a few years of slaying, you’d learned how to distinguish between prey and predator- there weren’t too many people in the bar since it was a Tuesday night, but that only made it easier to single them out.

You knew what to look for: eyes that swept the room to sort out the hierarchy of those present. Skin that lacked the plumpness and healthy complexion that came with blood running freely through the veins beneath. Behaviors that reflected an intention to single out the weak and alone before isolating them, going in for the kill.

Unfortunately, they weren’t who you were here for. Tonight, your attendance wasn’t attributed to any run-of-the-mill vampires.

Funny enough, you were here to see the band.

You sipped on your glass of cranberry juice, watching warily as tonight’s headliner situated themselves on the small almost-stage in the corner of the tiny bar. Long dark curls shadowed eyes that followed you with equal wariness, unsure of why you were here but intrigued nonetheless.

Sitting stationary at the bar with your glass sweating in your hand, you took in the spectacle before you- four boys who looked fairly human, setting the crowd ablaze with songs about nonconformity, rebellion, and hellish imagery. Funnily enough, humans and vampires alike were all watching them, heads bobbing to the thrum of the baseline, all of them united in their quest to distract themselves from life- or afterlife- for the night.

You’d always loved how music did that- it brought together folks of all shapes and sizes, political ideals, religions, backgrounds… and it gave them something to agree on. Music made people feel something. Whether you were alive or undead didn’t seem to matter; people loved to feel things.

To your chagrin, you found yourself tapping out the melodies along with the crowd, bouncing your knee in time with Eddie’s band’s music. They were- surprisingly- not bad. The place was small enough that even though you were seated at the bar, you were able to get a good look at each of the band members over the course of their set. You recognized some of them from school- Grant was a nice guy, you had some classes with him. Gareth was… shy? Standoffish? Either way, he kept to himself and away from everyone who wasn’t Eddie- typical behavior for a vampire. Now, seeing the pallor of his skin compared to the lively flush of his bandmates, you were all but sure he was a vampire; one of Eddie’s underlings, no doubt.

You’d figured out as much information about Eddie Munson’s standing in Hawkins’ vampire community as you thought you’d be likely to get, being a vampire slayer in a town fraught with vampires. He was the first to become a vampire the Hawkins way, and that afforded him a certain level of respect among vampires here. Other than that, you were flying blind.

Vampires existed in many forms across the world- name a continent, and you could rattle off some fun facts about that region’s particular breed of bloodsucker. Some born, some made, some immortal, some not- and they all had their own particular set of characteristics that set them apart and made slaying even more complicated. Eddie Munson had been the first of a new breed of vampire, and that’s why your watcher had sent you here; not only to slay, but to collect data.

The audience’s applause for Corroded Coffin’s final song faded into a dull chatter and the clinking of bar glasses, and your attention snagged on Eddie as you watched him amble off the stage in your direction. The other band members stayed where they were, shifting around as they began packing up their instruments. Gareth’s eyes stayed on Eddie, narrowing when they crossed over his shoulder and landed on you.

“Didn’t take you for a metal fan, Slayer.” Eddie murmured just loud enough for you to hear him over the din of noisy patrons.

You shrugged, sipping from your glass. “I listen to a little bit of everything. You guys aren’t bad.” Eddie hopped up onto the stool beside you, nodding to the bartender in a silent exchange. A half second later, Eddie had a freshly opened can of PBR sweating in his hand.

“Thanks.” He was eyeing you warily, sipping slowly from his can. “So what are you doing here?”

He didn’t bullshit around when there was an elephant in the room… you guessed you appreciated that. “I wanted to see you in your element.”

He snorted into his silver can. “In my element, huh? Wouldn’t that be -I don’t know- catching me in the act of ripping someone’s throat out? Draining the blood from a litter of kittens or something?”

A pang of guilt threatened to nudge its way through to your eyes, but you didn’t let it get that far. “No,” You replied, “you said it yourself, I’ve never actually seen you hurt anyone. Or even try, actually.”

His gaze was measured, eyeing you up and down as if scanning you for some indication that you were planning on staking him right here and now. You waited for him to speak but surprisingly he didn’t, so you continued.

“I’d like to propose a truce.”

Eddie smirked slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards enough to call into action the dimple hidden in his cheek. “Didn’t know we were fighting, I sure as hell haven’t been getting in your way, have I?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you’re getting at? You want an apology?” As Eddie’s smirk grew wider, your mouth moved in the opposite direction, lips forming a hard, tense line as you glared at the smug bloodsucking bastard before you.

“I’m a Slayer. I’ve traveled all over the world with the sole purpose of killing vampires just like you-”

“There are no vampires like me, sweetheart.”

You snorted. “Yeah yeah, you’re so unique, we’re all aware.” You downed the last swig of your drink. “Can I finish now?”

He nodded, that grin still growing along his lips.

“Every vampire I’ve ever met has wanted to kill people. Forgive me for having my defenses up when I came across one that didn’t.” Eddie’s eyes softened, as did the corners of his mouth. His smug grin now seemed a little more understanding, and maybe a little sympathetic. That last bit made you bristle.

“I’m not saying this for your sympathy, I just want you to know where I was coming from when I made assumptions about your…”

“I believe the term you used was ‘bloodlust’?” Eddie supplied, his tone accusatory but not altogether unfriendly.

You sighed heavily. “I made assumptions. I’m sorry about that.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side, digesting your apology. Finally, “Buy a round for me and my band and I’ll forgive you.”

The stipulations of your truce were laid out the next day at lunch. You were able to convince Eddie to leave his cronies’ lunch table in the cafeteria in favor of a more private place to discuss your terms- the picnic table out in the woods.

As per your side of the deal, Eddie would provide you a list of names of vampires that he knew followed the same lifestyle as him- purchase blood from his supplier at the hospital, go about their normal lives, and never harm a living soul. You would refrain from hunting any of them.

Eddie’s side of the deal: he promised not to interfere with the slaying of any vampires in town who didn’t subscribe to his way of life; in other words, if they tried to hurt a human or drink from any living animals in town, they were fair game for slaying. In addition, Eddie would provide you any information you needed about Hawkins Vampires, and you would relay that data to the Watchers’ Council for them to enter into their database.

Unsurprisingly, Gareth Emerson’s name was at the top of Eddie’s list of vampires under his protection. When you saw it, you chuckled.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

“Not in the slightest.” you laughed. “The guy clings to your side like a guard dog and barely talks to anyone else. And he always looks like he’s on the verge of ripping someone’s throat out.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh along with you. “Well, in my defense, he was like that back in his human days too, I didn’t do that to him.”

You peered over the list at the leather-clad vamp as he lit a cigarette. “But you did do the ‘vamparism’ thing to him?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t a premeditated decision.” Eddie may have sounded aloof, but you could tell that the words were strained. “I had only been…turned…for a couple of weeks at that point. I thought I could handle more human interaction than I really could.”

Your eyebrows jumped a fraction of an inch, but you tried to appear unphased. You hadn’t known too many vampires who could bite a human and manage to stop themselves before killing their victims at that phase of their afterlife. A vampire’s thirst could be nearly impossible to resist for the first few years after their transition, never mind the first matter of days. The fact that Eddie was able to bite Gareth without killing him was… impressive, to say the least.

Regardless of how impressive it was, however, Eddie’s facial expression spoke volumes to you about how unimpressed he was by his choices at this particular moment in his history. You decided to air on the side of casual empathy. “Could have been a lot worse.” you said, voice soft but matter of fact. “Plus he has you to protect him.”

Eddie looked at you, eyes guarded and yet bursting at the seams with unshed secrets. You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but he settled for a simple, solid “Yeah.”

You didn’t pry. If you needed to know more, you’d find it out in due time, but for now you would settle for ‘yeah’.

The two of you fell into a strange dynamic as your truce was put into effect. For one thing, he made an effort to seek you out in the hallways more; it was troubling, to say the least. You didn’t want people in this town paying attention to you. If they started taking notice of your unusual habits- never getting involved at school, lurking in graveyards and dive bars late into the night, keeping to yourself instead of falling into a friend group like normal teenagers were supposed to- they might start keeping a closer eye on you. A closer eye on you meant a closer eye on the vampires in this town, and the Watcher’s Council would have your head if you became the proverbial Pandora to open the vampire box in Hawkins.

The point was, Eddie was an attention magnet, and his incessant need to interact with you in front of an audience made it difficult to fly under the radar in a town where gossip traveled faster than the average speed limit.

“Slayer!”

His calling you that in the middle of the hallway just after the final bell didn’t help things in the slightest. He was half-jogging through the throng of teens, dodging and weaving between bodies as he made his way to where you stood at your locker with wide eyes trained on the most obnoxious vampire you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Can you not call me that in the middle of a crowded hallway?” you hissed at him once he’d reached your side. In reality, you knew the chances were slim that anyone within earshot knew what a Slayer was, but you weren’t about to test that theory.

“Sorry, killer.” Eddie quipped, shit-eating grin loud and proud on his beaming face. “Just wanted to catch you before you left without me.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Without you? What, are we carpooling now?”

“Yeah, unless you want to get drenched in the tempest going on out there, sweetheart.”

Your mouth was open, poised to argue before Eddie wordlessly scooped up your backpack with effortless strength, shouldered it, and began marching down the crowded hallway. He didn’t even wait for you to close your locker, so you had to make quick work of grabbing your books and locking it shut before bumbling after him.

“Excuse me,” you huffed, power walking in an effort to keep up with his quick pace. “Is there something about me that screams ‘I need to carpool with Eddie Munson’? Because if there is, I will happily correct the issue.”

Eddie hop-skipped through the front doors of the school, threw a chuckling look over his shoulder at you, then took off running through the pouring rain in a straight shot to where his van was parked.

You had no choice but to run in the same direction; he had your backpack.

In a mad dash through the sky’s heavy onslaught, you shielded your head best you could until you made it to Eddie’s passenger door. The rolling percussion of raindrops on pavement was cut starkly short at the shut of your door, and you breathed a sigh of relief before swinging your head around to look at Eddie Smug-Faced Munson, scowling for all you were worth.

“There are quite a few ways I can answer your question, Slayer, all of which could get me staked…” He twisted slightly to toss your backpack into the backseat, where it landed on a discarded t-shirt and a mess of paper and spiraled wire that must have been a notebook at some point. When Eddie turned back to you, your faces were mere inches from each other, both of you trusting the center console with your weight. Eddie’s movements stilled, his eyes flitting ever so quickly down at your barely-parted lips.

You were close enough to hear his soft intake of breath. “Could be worth it, though.”

Your cheeks heated, and you briefly wondered if vampires felt the stolen blood in their cold bodies rush to places in times of tension. Breaking eye contact, you crossed your arms over your chest, brushing your biceps and shoulders with your hands in an effort to warm your rain-drenched skin.

“Just drive, Munson. I have a stake in my pocket with your name on it if you try anything.”

Eddie shook his head, smirking widely. “And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Shifting the car into drive, he expertly navigated his way out of the parking lot and onto the main road that would take you to the small apartment you currently lived in, courtesy of the Watchers’ Council.

“You’re hunting tonight, right?” Eddie’s voice cut through the rain-spattered silence in the van, jerking your attention from the hypnotic sight of his struggling windshield wipers.

“Yes?” Unintentionally, the answer sounded like a question.

“Take me with you.”

You snorted. “You, a vampire, want to go vampire hunting?”

Eddie shrugged, keeping his umber eyes on the glassy road ahead. “Now that I know there won’t be any innocents on your hit list- yeah, sounds fun.”

You arched an eyebrow. “If I end up staking anyone tonight, you won’t stop me?”

“Good vampire, remember?” he reminded you, placing a hand over his heart before flashing you a reassuring grin. “If somebody’s out there hurting people, I want them off the streets as much as you do.”

And that was how you wound up with an undead hunting partner for your nightly patrol of Hawkins for malicious undead.

Despite being the unlikely duo that you two were, you actually looked like a pair of vampire slayers on a usual patrol- the two of you both wearing combat boots and leather jackets to match. The only tell that this wasn’t your normal routine was the stark silence occupying the space between you. You ended up being the one to finally break it after the first few minutes of patrolling as the two of you strolled through the Hawkins’ cemetery.

“So if we run into some unsavory vampires tonight… how are you gonna kill them?”

“What do you mean, ‘how’?”

“I’m not letting you use my stakes.”

Eddie angled his head toward you, a grin dancing on his lips. “Aw, scared I’ll stake myself on accident, sweetheart?”

“Oh I would consider that a happy accident.” you matched his grin in stride, teasing the tip of your tongue through your teeth.

“Aw, don’t say that! You know you’d miss me, baby.”

Baby?

You sped up your pace a fraction- just enough for him to leave your periphery. “I am not your baby.” You tried to laugh through your response, but it got caught in your throat, tangling with the words and straining them in a way that sounded less lighthearted than you’d intended.

“Well look at that, I found something that makes you nervous.” You could practically feel his smugness from your two steps ahead.

“Nothing makes me nervous.”

“I do.”

You scoffed, speeding up your pace. “You do not-”

In half a second he was in front of you, vampiric speed landing him directly in your way, forcing you to stop short. He was eyeing you down, arms crossed and lids squinted in concentration. “Why’s your heart rate getting faster, then?”

You huffed a breath into the cold air, sending wisps of heat to curl and dissipate as they hit Eddie’s solid form. “Annoyance. Rage. Could be a number of things along those lines.” You sidestepped him, marching forward purposefully. Eddie followed suit beside you.

“Along those lines, you say.” He mused. “Y’know, those lines in particular can get pretty blurry.”

Eddie paused, waiting for you to take the bait. He waited a long time before giving up on that, because under no circumstances did you plan on doing so.

“The lines,” he continued, “between rage and other feelings of… equal passion.”

“You saying you want me to more passionately say you annoy me, Munson?” You quipped, refusing to meet his eyes that were practically begging you to look his way. “I will, don’t tempt me.”

“I’m quite sure you’ll find I can be very good at tempting you, baby.”

You huffed, chin whipping to the side to give him a full view of your serious face. “Stop calling me baby.” You regretted looking his way immediately, because those dark eyes were staring you down with an intensity that caused the air to leave your lungs and your voice to falter.

“Yeah… y’know-” Eddie’s grin was shining in full force now, watching you like you were a puzzle he’d just made a breakthrough in solving. “I don’t think I’m going to do that. This is the first time I’ve seen you flustered.”

“Shut. Up.” You muttered, eyes focused on a newer-looking grave about ten feet from the two of you.

“Hm, sounds like something a flustered person would say-”

“Eddie,” you hissed, already reaching for the stake in your back pocket. “Shut. Up.”

It took him a second, but he followed your gaze and saw what had you shifting gears- the low, wet sound of something sucking, accompanied by the pat pat of excess blood as it dripped to the cold earth. Slightly obscured by the headstone you’d spotted, a vampire had found some unsuspecting soul to snack on.

You held your wooden stake aloft, ready to strike. “Ready to watch the master at work?” you whispered under your breath.

Eddie matched your volume, whispering back an encouraging “Hell yeah, go get ‘em, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, carefully advancing “Just shut up and watch my back, Munson.”

“Oh I will gladly do that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m adorable.”

You arrived home around dawn, just as the sun had begun to peek over the horizon and paint the morning in blushing shades of pinks and purples. Your apartment was a little efficiency located above a pawn shop downtown. The entrance was behind the building, which meant that there weren’t any snooping neighbors to watch you entering your home in the wee hours of the night. In a town like Hawkins, this kind of privacy was a valuable commodity.

Eddie had insisted on walking you home since it was so late- or early- which tickled you to no end since he’d just watched you take down a vampire pretty much single-handedly. He climbed the squeaking fire escape two steps behind you, stopping at the final landing as you began to unlock your door.

“You can go now.” You told him curtly.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” You almost laughed; he actually sounded hurt. He was a good actor.

“You act like I haven’t studied vampires every day since I became the Slayer.” You placed your hands on your hips, “As If I’m about to give you an all-access pass to my apartment.”

Eddie laughed, his chuckle a dark and musical thing. “Baby, if I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have tried already?” His hand was resting on your doorway, blocking the light from the time-yellowed lamp that lit the left side of your doorway and caging you in with his shadow.

“For all I know, this is you trying.” You stood your ground, arms crossed solidly across your chest, refusing to cower even though he was looking at you like he wanted to wrap his teeth around you.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, eyes heavy and hungry. “Do you think that’s what I’m trying to do?” His gaze flicked to your closed door and back to you in half a second. “You think if you walk through that door and invite me inside, I’m going to try to kill you?”

You studied him for a moment. “No.” You hadn’t meant for the word to come out in a whisper, but that’s what happened anyway.

Eddie’s gaze remained unmoved. “So you’ll invite me in?”

“No.”

A chuckle escaped through the crooked smile that invaded his lips. “So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. Smell what? Did you work up a sweat fighting that vampire? There’s no way you smelled that bad-

“I can smell you, baby.” His lips were moving against your ear, brushing the little silver rings that decorated your cartilage. “You’re right, you shouldn’t let me inside. But I can smell how curious you are about what might happen if you do.”

You were suddenly very aware of how wet you were- you felt a rush of heat as a fresh wave of slick rushed through you, undoubtedly moistening your panties. He could smell that? You were frozen, at a loss for words that could adequately respond to his insinuation.

Before you could react, Eddie’s hand was on your face, gripping your jaw just tight enough to slightly purse your lips. You felt the cold bite of his silver rings on your skin, sending goosebumps trickling down your spine. He looked you in the eyes, his gaze growing deeper and darker, and you began to relax into his grip as you realized that he truly did not intend to hurt you.

“You should invite me in.”

His eyes were so beautiful… how had you never noticed them before? They practically glowed… no, they actually glowed. They were like a neon fucking sign, bright and crimson and shining such a beautiful rose-hued glow that they looked more like rubies than irises.

Your lips moved to echo him. “I should invite you in.” Of course you should. He wasn’t going to hurt you- with every second you spent with his skin on yours and his eyes boring into your own, you became even more sure of that. He just wanted to make you feel good- so, so good…

“And are you going to?” Eddie’s voice was so beautiful- how had you never realized how gorgeous his voice was?

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s a good Slayer, unlock the door, baby.”

And you did. It was the easiest decision you’d ever made. You stepped inside, immediately shedding your coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. “Come inside, Eddie,” You smiled at him, letting down your defenses. You were so tired of putting them up around him. “It’s cold out there.”

He matched your smile, looking at you like you’d hung the moon. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” He crossed the threshold easily, following your lead and shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it beside your own. He glanced around the little apartment, an appraising look in his gaze. It was just one room, a small studio with a modest kitchen and living space. Your modest bed frame sat nestled in the corner beneath a skylight, along with a small armchair and a closet with the few belongings you’d taken with you to Hawkins.

“Bed looks cozy.” Eddie mused.

“It is.”

He nodded towards it. “Go sit on the edge.”

And of course you did. You sat up straight, keeping your eyes on him and waiting for that beautiful voice to say something else. You so wanted him to keep talking; each word was like a warm shower after hours in the cold, relaxing you into a happy little puddle. Eddie watched as you perched yourself on the edge of the bed, slowly stalking across the room until your knees were almost touching his.

He stared at you, his gorgeous dark eyes glowing deep red. “Open your legs.” You did. Without breaking eye contact, Eddie commanded you again. “Tell me how wet you are for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand gesturing stop. “I’m sorry baby, I misspoke.” Placing both hands on either side of your hips, Eddie leaned forward until he was close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your face. “Stick your hand down your panties and feel how wet you are for me. Then tell me out loud.”

You nodded, happy to comply. Your hands were cold, but you didn’t care. You eagerly snaked your hand under the waistband of your pants, shivering as your icy fingers traced a line down your pelvis until they reached the heat beneath your panties. The moment they dipped over the hood of your clit, you were mildly surprised at just how soaked you were.

“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie’s voice washed over you, and you felt a fresh gush of heat pulse through your core.

“I’m soaked, Eddie.” It was the truth; you couldn’t imagine lying to him when he was so curious. Besides, you wanted him to know that he was reducing you to a deluge in his honor.

Slowly, Eddie sunk down to his knees on your floor. His head was level with your open knees, hands dragging down the skin of your outer thighs as he inhaled the air between your legs.

“Take your fingers out of your pussy, I want to taste them.”

You did as he asked, wide eyes rapt with attention as you watched him grab your wrist and shove your drenched fingers in his waiting mouth. His tongue made you want to melt; it lapped along the skin of your fingers and savored the tart, heady flavor of you. You whined when his lips popped off your hand, but eagerly changed your attitude when his fingers began tracing your waistband.

“Tell me you want me to taste that pretty pussy baby, I can smell how bad you want me already, you smell so fucking good.”

You did. You wanted him to taste your pussy very badly… you wanted it more than you could remember ever wanting anything before now. “I want you, Eddie.” you panted. “I want you to taste me, I’m so wet for you.”

Eddie’s eyes shone up at you, like light through a glass of dark red wine. “I know, baby, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll have my tongue on you again in a second.” He slid his hands into your pockets, gently yanking on the material and jolting your hips forward. “Take these off for me.”

Your hands flew to the button of your pants, making quick work of them as well as your panties while Eddie helped you remove your shirt. You wanted to bare yourself to him completely, let him devour you whole, even. When you looked into those beautiful eyes, letting him have you just made sense.

You now sat completely naked at the edge of your bed, Eddie kneeling before you taking in the sight and smell of you. His gaze was hungry, his hands tracing possessive lines into your outer thighs. “You’re going to lie back for me,” he said, voice low and commanding, “and I’m going to taste this pussy that’s been leaking for me since I first called you baby in the graveyard.” Your eyes were wide, desperate- stuck on his like a moth to a flame. He pressed his hands to your knees, opening you up as wide as you could go, and you felt his breath on your wet lips.

“Go ahead, Slayer.”

You laid back, staring up at the morning’s gradient of cerulean and lavender through your skylight as your heart began to race from the anticipation. When Eddie’s tongue licked a broad, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit, a reedy, wanting moan pulled from your chest, singing into the stillness of your apartment.

“That’s it, give me every noise you have, baby. I’ll know if you’re holding any back, and believe me when I say I’ll make you moan one way or another.”

And make you moan he did. Eddie’s tongue was masterful in its movements, licking and flicking in the perfect places as you listened to the symphony of noises that were coming from between your thighs. Between the sound of his wet tongue squelching in the juices that you eagerly supplied and the humming little moans that Eddie made as he feasted on all you had to give him, it was all you could do not to start sobbing from how badly you wanted to cum for him. You knew he’d get you there, but let’s be honest- you were not a patient person.

“More, Eddie- hngh- please, I need… aah!” Your pleas were cut short as you felt a sharp suck at your swollen clit. You moaned, high and pathetic under the careful ministrations of Eddie Munson. His two middle fingers plunged into you, not bothering to give you time to adjust because he knew you were already wet enough to take him. His fingers curled slightly, sharply jerking his hand up and in, over and over in a way that filled you like a water balloon. You were whining, loudly arching your back into your bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, sensing your climax was fast approaching-

“No,” Eddie lunged forward, his right hand never ceasing its assault as his left grabbed you by the neck, wrenching you forward into a crunch position. “Look me in the eyes while you cum, don’t you fucking close those fucking eyes, baby.”

Your mouth hung open, eyebrows drawn together desperate and needy as you felt yourself getting impossibly wet and impossibly tight. His hand kept going, ruthlessly pounding into you as you screamed his name. Curses tumbled from his lips as he watched you soak his hand, and all the while his other hand stayed curled possessively around your neck. Wetness sprayed from you, and his eyes were downright feral as you squirted all over his face. You watched his smile grow, stretching across his face in triumph and baring his fangs in all their unholy glory before turning his head to the side and opening even wider.

Then he sunk his teeth into your femoral artery, and sucked.

You moaned- loudly- and then you woke up.

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about a vampire was pretty embarrassing.

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about Eddie Munson was… inconvenient.

When you’d first woken up from… the dream… you’d spent your first waking moments frantically trying to figure out how much- if any- of it had even happened. Had Eddie even walked you to your door, or had you parted ways at the cemetery? Had he actually called you baby? Did he admit he could smell how much it affected you when he’d called you that? Most importantly, had you actually invited him into your apartment?

It took a few minutes, but eventually you sorted out reality from whatever your traitorous brain had concocted. You and Eddie had hunted last night. He did indeed call you baby at one point and teased you about how defensive you got about it. You’d slayed a vampire while Eddie assessed the victim, and afterward the two of you had taken her to Annie at the hospital and updated her on the situation. With Hawkins’ vampire population growing by the day, this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a newborn; she knew what to do.

After that, you’d gone your separate ways. As far as you knew, Eddie still didn’t know where you lived- though, you knew if he wanted to find out then it wouldn’t be difficult for him to follow you home undetected. The good news was that he still hadn’t been invited into your home, so you were probably safe as long as you were inside your apartment. Of course, the rules for Hawkins Vamps were still mostly unknown to you, so there was a possibility that he might be immune to the invitations-only rule that bound most types of vampires- but you weren’t about to take him home and test that theory.

Then there was the compulsion- the ability to control the minds of humans and turn them into subservient prey at the mercy of their vampiric predator. You had heard of some vampires having this ability, but had never actually come across it in your time as the Slayer. You hoped that this dream had just been the product of loneliness and sexual frustration taking over a sleep-deprived mind, but how could you be sure? Maybe everything in your dream had actually happened, and Eddie had simply compelled you to think it was all a dream. Maybe he had some sort of psychic powers specific to Hawkins Vampires, and he had planted the dream in your brain just to fuck with you.

You didn’t know what was real. On top of that, Eddie kept trying to get your attention at school the next day and it was getting more and more difficult to ignore him without being obvious about it. You successfully avoided him for the duration of the school day, but he finally caught up to you as you were walking home. Driving his van at a steady crawl, he rolled down his window next to where you walked on the grassy shoulder.

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all day?”

You sighed, too chicken to meet his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Yes you have.”

You sped up your pace, which was stupid because Eddie was literally driving a motor vehicle.

“No, I haven’t.”

You were still refusing to look at him, but you could hear the eye roll in his sigh. “Quit being difficult, Slayer,” he said, still keeping equal speed with your barely increased pace. “Get in the van.”

“No.”

“Uugghhh.” Eddie groaned. “Please? I don’t know what I did wrong but I’ll make it up to you.”

You shook your head but still faced forward as you trudged along on the side of the road. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You didn’t think he had, anyway. “I’m just… I’m in a weird funk today, don’t read too much into it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then get in the van.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the thought of being so close to him… just the idea was enough to get you wet. You felt the familiar gush of arousal as you walked even faster. “No.”

An echo from last night’s dream reverberated in your skull. So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?

You picked up your pace.

Eddie sighed, jerking the gear shift into park. In a moment, he was inches in front of you, his hand planted firmly on your shoulder.

“Stop,” he said, his tone much more all-business than before. You did what he said, begrudgingly, but you were glad you didn’t feel any real need to be obedient. No compulsion, then… you thought, at least not right now.

You slowly looked up at him, hoping he couldn’t smell the effect that his sudden touch had on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. Seriously.” you tried to smile at him reassuringly, but you could feel on your face that it came out looking more like a cringe.

Eddie was silent, looking you over with an unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke, “Please get in the van. I’ll take you out for food, whatever you want, my treat. If you aren’t going to tell me what I did to make you so mad at me, at least let me make it up to you somehow.”

You thought it over for a moment, eventually conceding and nodding your head. Eddie exhaled a sigh of relief before turning on his heel to open the door for you. When you were both seated in the car, Eddie looked over to you cautiously, questioningly.

“Milkshakes?”

You nodded, eyes still facing forward. “Milkshakes.”

Benny’s had everything.

They had the best burgers in town. They had the best fries, the best chicken fried steak, the best pancakes in the morning. But the milkshakes? They were the best you’d ever had- which was saying something, since you’d lived in twelve different small towns just like this one since your Slayer powers awakened four years ago.

You sipped your vanilla milkshake through a red-striped straw and let the sweet, dependable flavor ground you. It was like releasing a breath you’d been holding since you’d woken up that morning. Eddie’s powers of observation didn’t need to be above average for him to notice the relief washing over you.

He sipped his chocolate shake, raising an eyebrow as your shoulders relaxed into your first suck of the straw. “You don’t have to talk about it, sweetheart,” he murmured against the plastic held between his lips, “but if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Yeah, but you are the thing on my mind, you thought, and therein lies the problem.

“I appreciate the concern, Munson, but I’m fine.” You shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a weird funk. Normal. It happens.”

Eddie didn’t seem convinced, sipping from his straw as he studied you intently- it was making you uncomfortable.

“Stop staring at me.”

“Stop lying and saying you’re fine, I can tell something’s up.” Eddie reached up with one hand and tapped on one of his dormant fangs with a fingernail. “Vampire senses, remember?”

Your heart rate picked up at the thought of what his vampire senses might be sensing, and you could instantly tell that Eddie had heard it from the subtle tick of his eyebrow.

“Speaking of vampire senses,” you started, eagerly trying to turn the conversation away from your current state, “I have some questions about your, um… powers. Specifically, about Hawkins vamps in general.”

Eddie seemed surprised by the new line of questioning, but nodded cooperatively. Leaning back in his squeaky booth seat, he let go of his glass to stick his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “What do you want to know, Slayer? I’m an open book.”

Pulling your legs up to rest on the seat of the booth, you made yourself comfortable, leaning against your backpack that sat between you and the wall. “Are you able to enter someone else’s place of residence without an invitation?”

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

Eddie was already nodding. “I already knew my fair share of vampire lore before my stint in the Upside Down… I tested the more popular vampire theories pretty quick after I figured out what I was.”

You smiled, your curiosity eclipsing the nagging worry in your chest regarding his answer to your first question. “Which theories?”

Eddie chuckled at himself, making a show of counting them out on his fingers. “Well, the first was running really fast- really, really fast, I mean you’ve seen me-” Your scoff and eye roll earned you a cheeky wink from the vampire. “-tested out how good my hunting skills were in the forest by hunting down some squirrels, and let me tell you, super speed and super hearing can only get you so far, because those motherfuckers are always on alert. Learned how quiet I can be now, which is weird because staying still and silent has never been my strong suit.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” you snorted. “And you told me the sunlight thing doesn’t bother you because of your witch friend- what was her name, again?”

“Nice try, but I’m still not telling you.”

You smiled, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. “Worth a shot, I’ll find out eventually anyway.” Taking a sip of your milkshake, you kept your voice even as you asked your next question, which was arguably the most important to you at the moment. “So, uh, are there any other powers that you’ve noticed? Powers that don’t fit into the ‘popular vampire theories’ umbrella?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Such as?”

Ugh. “Well,” you began, focusing on a spot on the table where the vinyl coating had begun to peel off and using your fingernail to help it along. “In some regions, there are vampires who can read minds or compel humans to do whatever they say. Some can even bite humans without turning them.”

“Damn,” Eddie whistled, “lucky bastards.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do those things?” you prompted, to which Eddie shook his head and sighed.

“Nope. First and last time I bit someone, I turned my best friend into a monster. Didn’t feel like testing that theory anymore after that. Can’t read or control minds either, but honestly I’m fine with that. That kind of power doesn’t tend to end well for people.”

You nodded, sipping the final bit of milkshake down. “Wise words.”

Eddie did the same, fishing out his wallet and slapping a ten dollar bill on the table before standing. “They’re the words of someone who’s flown close enough to the sun to know himself pretty well by now.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the door. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you stood and followed him, catching the door as he opened it for you. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

“Don’t worry about it, consider it an apology.”

“I told you, you didn’t do anything! I’m just in a funk-” but if Eddie could hear you, he didn’t show it as he jumped into his van and closed the door.

The drive to your apartment wasn’t long, only about five minutes. Approaching your front door with Eddie in tow gave you the strangest sense of deja vu even though the only time this had happened before was in your dream. You stood with him in the doorway, the warm light of your single-bulb lamp casting harsh shadows across his face as he watched you with eyes tinged with something imperceptible.

“Gonna invite me in?” Eddie asked, his voice husky and eerily quiet in the cold air.

You smirked, feeling slightly apprehensive knowing that he didn’t need an invitation, but was asking for one anyway. “Why, you trying to snoop through my things, Munson?”

Eddie snorted, “We both know that I could if I wanted to, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t need your permission.” He shrugged, leaning a shoulder against the chipping paint on your doorframe. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“Since when has that been your priority?” you bit back, but there was no venom in it. You were already jiggling your key into the brass lock and turning the knob. You weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to come in, but he was right- if he had malicious intent, he could barge into your home whether you wanted it or not. You made a mental note to request some demon-repellent poultices from a witch friend of yours to remedy that…

The door creaked open, and you tried to shake off that wild feeling of deja vu that kept washing over you with every similarity to your dream that kept occurring. Eddie’s boots thumped against the floorboards, heavy souls claiming the aging wood with every step they took. He surveyed your apartment, assessing what he saw with nods of his head and crossing of arms.

“Well I can tell you don’t plan on staying long.” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow, closing the door and locking it behind you. “What makes you say that?”

“The walls are empty. Nothing in here looks like you picked it out. I didn’t know better, I’d think I was in a hotel room. ”

You raised your eyebrows, nodding. “Perceptive. You’re not wrong, you know. I don’t usually stay in one place very long.”

“What’s the longest your wardens have let you stay in one place?” Eddie had hopped up on your tiny kitchen counter, his arms straining against the fabric of his leather jacket as he braced his hands on the ledge. You hoped he hadn’t noticed the way your eyes lingered on the way your dim lighting glinted off his bicep.

“Watchers. Not wardens.” you corrected, shedding your own leather and dropping the coffee-colored jacket over the edge of your bed. “And it’s never been more than a year. If you want to get technical, I think I was in Las Vegas for around 11 months.”

He quirked a curious smile. “Vegas, huh? Lot of vampires there?”

You shrugged. “Tons of tourists to munch on and nothing but nightlife. Believe me when I say that city is run by vampires.”

Eddie chuckled, “Guess that makes sense.” He looked down, as if he were debating whether or not to say whatever he was thinking at the moment. Then- “Any idea if… well, have they told you if you’ll be here long?”

You smiled; it was a small, tentative thing, but you allowed it to grace your lips. “I’ll probably just stay until the council is happy with the knowledge I’ve accumulated about Hawkins vamps. Once they feel I’m needed more elsewhere, I’ll be packed up and moved within days.” You averted your eyes from his, suddenly finding it difficult to voice the reality that any day, you might have to leave Hawkins. Leave the friendship you’d started to get the slightest bit attached to.

You heard Eddie scoff- it wasn’t bitter or laced with venom, but it was hollow. An empty, breathy laugh that didn’t do much to cover the vulnerability he had shown by simply bringing up the subject of how long you’d be staying. “Well, you know what they say- hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.”

It was an attempt at glossing over the mournful mood that’d begun lingering in the air. You looked up at him, brows pulling together in a hopeful, sweeping arch. “You really hate to see me go?”

The smile he’d plastered on was devious and smart-mouthed, but it softened at your question. “Yeah…” he said, his voice lower and rounded as he stroked his fingers along his jawline. “...I think I hate it.” His head stayed down while his slitted eyes looked up at you beneath bushy brown brows. “I was just getting you to like me.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Who said I liked you?”

“Your heart rate.”

Well, if it wasn’t true before, it was now. You felt all the blood in your body suddenly rushing through your veins with purpose. The room was feeling surprisingly hot, and you absently pondered whether you had left the heater on when you had left that morning.

Your voice matched his quiet timbre, “And what’s my heart rate saying?”

He slowly stepped down from his perch on the countertop, stalking toward you with care, as if he were approaching a wild animal.

Ironic.

“Well,” he started, “something in your brain obviously must have told your heart that you might have to run soon, because your blood’s been racing since I walked through that door.” He took a step closer, and now all you had to do was look up and your faces would be parallel, his eyes boring into yours. “Your body still knows I’m a predator, that’s good.”

He was right. Your blood was racing under his gaze, and he could undoubtedly feel the heat that was radiating off of you- but that didn’t mean you were ready to openly let that show. “What about you? Big and scary ‘Kas the Bloody Handed’?” you asked. “How does your body react around a vampire slayer?”

Now you looked up. He was glaring down at you, pensive and predatory as a cheshire grin slowly crept across his features. “That depends on how much blood I’ve got in me, sweetheart.” You were leaning against the edge of your tiny excuse for a kitchen island, but now that his hands were planted on both sides of your torso and braced along the tiled edge of the countertop, you felt caged in with nowhere to go and nothing to look at except his eyes as they glowered down at you. “If it’s been a while since I've fed… well, to be honest I get a little hungry.”

Breathe.

“And if you’ve had your fill?”

He chuckled. “Oh, baby, if a vampire ever tells you they’ve had their fill, they’re lying. There is always room for more.” You felt a chill, and the blood in your veins was screaming at you now to grab a fucking stake!! However, you couldn’t seem to tear yourself from this conversation. The way he made you feel- hot, ironically enough- was gluing you to the spot.

“But if I’ve got some blood in my system,” he continued, “I have to confess, Slayer, just seeing the way you look at me is enough to make all of that blood rush to all sorts of places.”

You were both silent, but the air was pregnant with the question he knew you wanted to ask. A few short breaths were all it took to make you give in. “And… how do I look at you?”

His thumbs ventured to brush over your hips through the material of your jeans, and you jumped at how much the contact affected you. You took in a sharp breath in surprise, and the strained sigh that rumbled through his chest in response nearly made you shudder.

“Like… a fox that knows it’s being hunted. Wants to be hunted…knows it could outsmart the hunter, but wants the chance to run simply for the thrill of it.”

Fucking. Breathe.

“Is this your way of saying you’re hunting me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, like the tension between the two of you was so fragile that it could be shattered if you spoke loud enough.

Eddie’s lips were inches from yours, and you could feel his cold breath on your cheeks. “This is my way of saying that I don’t need to.” He nodded sharply in your direction, “Fox.” He squeezed your hips, tugging you gently closer to him, “Trap.”

You squirmed under his gaze but refused to look away from his smoldering eyes. “Bold of you to assume I’m the fox in that scenario.”

“Yeah, yeah…” his husky whisper rasped into your ear when the soft brush of his fingers along your hips became a firm grasp as he effortlessly lifted you up to sit on the counter behind you. He did it so swiftly, so easily… it wasn’t hard to forget about his vampire strength when he barely showed it. He gazed into your wide eyes with a grin that was playful but hungry. “Big bad Slayer is a hunter, not hunted. We’re all aware, sweetheart.”

His hands splayed atop your thighs, and you couldn’t remember a time before now that you had felt anything as acutely- or with as much anticipation- as you were feeling every inch of him touching you right now. Your inner calves touching the outer sides of his thighs. The knobby contact of his hip bones where they wedged between your knees. The way his fingertips pressed into the meat of your thighs ever so slightly, like he feared how hard he could squeeze before he hurt you.

You watched his hands, breathless as you studied the light that glinted off his silver rings. There were splotches of faded black shining on a few of his fingernails. It wasn’t nail polish; you’d seen how he colored on his nails with black Sharpie when he got bored in class. Those black nails shone reddish-purple when the light hit them just so, and you shivered as they traveled further up your thighs until he reached the part of your hips that had the most flesh for him to squeeze. A low growl danced in his throat when he heard the noise that escaped you at the sensation his hands were supplying.

He squeezed tighter, tentatively testing how much of his strength you could handle. Luckily for him, slayers are not delicate creatures.

Wordlessly, you lifted your hands to his shoulders, letting your fingers twist into his dark curls. They were beautifully brown, frozen in the perfect shade of chocolate until the end of time. Your nails gently met his scalp, raking through the roots until both of your hands were nested deep in his hair.

You made two fists and pulled.

It wasn’t a sharp tug, wasn’t meant to yank him away from you; it was a slow pull, meant to tease and tell him that you weren’t afraid of a little pain, given or received. He was testing the waters, and you were giving him the all-clear.

His eyes screwed shut when you pulled his hair, and it wasn’t from any sort of pain but simply from the fact that you were doing it in the first place. Eddie took a deep, shuddering breath as he opened his eyes once again to glare up at you with enough impassioned heat to give his bloodless body a temperature. He clenched his jaw until it ticked, then mumbled “alrighty then” so quickly and quietly that you didn’t even know if you were meant to hear it.

And then he was slamming you against the wall.

Your thighs straddled his waist, ass seated in Eddie’s stone-strong hands as you felt your back hit the drywall. His eyes were pitch black, hungry for so many things but settling for your lips as he captured them in his own. You kissed him back fervently, desperate now that you knew his touch and the sensations that came with it.

“God you smell so fucking good,” Eddie growled, pressing into you at the waist and pinning you to the wall where he held you tightly. His lips were insatiable, kissing you like your lips were dipped in sugar and he was a starving man. He panted against your mouth, breathless. “Always smell so fucking good… might be obsessed, I want…want…”

“Want what, Eddie?” you panted with him, eyes fluttering open, wanting to see the way he looked at you when he said things like I might be obsessed as he kissed you… who wouldn’t want to see that? You weren’t disappointed with the sight.

Framed by the backlit baby hairs that formed an evening halo around his head, you might have thought at first glance that Eddie looked angelic. Oh, how wrong that would be. His eyes held far too much gluttony for that.

He leaned in to scent the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver as the tip of his nose traced the base of your skull before whispering into your ear-

“Want to taste you- in every way-” You shivered. “-I want to feel you on my tongue, running down my throat, soaking my hands, falling apart…” Eddie’s lips traveled down your neck, mouthing over the veins that pumped your life force at top speed under sweet, pliant skin. “I want to break you just to know what you look like broken by me.”

The two of you were waltzing on the line of your collective self-control, and you knew all it took would be one little bite- one tiny prick of his fangs- and his venom would pour into your bloodstream. Then it would be goodbye, humanity.

Mustering up the slightest amount of dignity (with surprising difficulty), you took one hand out of his hair and braced it on his shoulder while the other stayed fisted in his curls. With a sharp tug, you used your Slayer strength to remind him he was evenly matched here, yanking him from your neck and bringing his bloodlust-glazed eyes parallel to yours.

“Fucking try it then.” you hissed, “See if you can break me.”

Eddie’s familiar roguish grin triumphantly returned then, and you barely registered his nasal scoff and a rush of wind before you were suddenly being flung onto your bed across the apartment. Eddie climbed on top of you, caging you in with solid arms and a scarlet guitar pick that dangled from his neck to dance on the skin of your collarbone.

He stared down at you expectantly, all-business. “Take your shirt off.”

“You take yours off.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you really in a position to be giving the orders, Slayer?”

In a split second, you grabbed his wrists and hooked a leg over his hip, rolling over in the blink of an eye. Now, you were seated firmly on his hips, back arched to splay over his torso and pin his wrists to the mattress. Eddie’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden display of strength and dexterity that he had apparently forgotten you had.

You grinned, cocky. “I am now.”

Eddie glared, thrusting upward in hopes that he might throw you off balance, but to no avail. Rotating his hands in your grip, Eddie dexterously took hold of your wrists and gently pressed his nails into your skin. You winced; his nails were sharper than you’d thought they would be. Almost like…

Claws. Eddie’s nails had grown into catlike points, and now they were applying a little too much pressure. Any more than this and he would surely draw-

“-Blood.”

You whispered to yourself as you watched the bright bead pooling where Eddie’s thumb had pressed hard enough to puncture skin. Before you had time to react, Eddie was pulling your bleeding wrist to his face, inspecting his handiwork up close. He caught a whiff of your scent, inhaling deeply before exhaling so heavily that it rumbled low in his chest. Bringing your wrist to hover above his mouth, you felt your survival instincts kicking in as Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, squeezing more of your blood to pool into the drop that now hung precariously from the cut in your skin.

Eddie’s finger on the top of your wrist raised, then firmly tapped down hard enough to shake the drop free and send it falling into his waiting mouth below.

You watched, transfixed as Eddie moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. He licked his lips, spreading your blood across them and letting your essence settle into the cracks in his skin. You wondered how long his lips would taste like you after tonight. Would it only take moments for the flavor of you to leave his skin? Or would he still taste you in the morning?

Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head, his composure slipping under the influence of your blood in his mouth. He pulled your wrist to his mouth and licked greedily at the tiny puncture wound, gently sucking but still staying careful enough to keep his fangs far away from the opening. You were trusting him to be responsible here, as stupid as that was, but so far he seemed to be completely aware of where the line was, and he was careful not to cross it. Test it, maybe… but he wouldn’t cross it. At least you were hoping he wouldn’t.

His gaze settled on yours, and you found yourself at a loss for words. He smiled proudly, slowly sitting up until his face was even with yours. You’d long since let go of your grip on his other hand, and now that your bones were suddenly jelly, it was easy for Eddie to lift both hands to your neck and slot both of them so that his thumbs and pointers rested on either side of your ears. He pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately and sharing the taste of your own blood from where it still lingered in his mouth.

“Tastes like fuckin’ honey.” He murmured against your lips, tongue snaking out to lick into you, and you couldn’t tell if he was referring to the taste of your lips or the taste of your blood. You recognized it in his kiss- the metallic flavor rolling over your taste buds and awakening something primal in you. Your hips bucked into his, and you felt the solid length that ached for you through his jeans.

Eddie chuckled darkly, rolling his hips into yours in response. “Careful, baby.” You felt his lips lowering, placing gentle wet kisses along your throat. Your heart raced to a bounding pulse as it dawned on you that were he to bite you here, he could kill you quite quickly. “Mmmmmm,” you shivered as his voice reverberated through your neck. “I can feel your blood rushing faster. That just for me?”

You forced yourself to breathe as you confirmed his suspicions with a small nod. Eddie sighed, hot breath pluming from his nostrils and across your skin. “Just for me… all for me…” His tongue emerged once again and licked a fat, wet stripe along the center of your neck, and you couldn’t stop the desperate moan he pulled from you at the sensation. His hand slid down for his thumb to make slippery caresses over the trail of spit he’d left behind.

“I’ve never tasted blood this good, sweetheart. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like the way you smell, but better.” His thumb pressed ever so gently into your throat, and you felt the tip of his sharpened nail rake a promise against your skin. Eddie kept it there, pausing for a moment, and you realized with a pang of emotion that he was trying to stop himself from asking for more.

You allowed the slightest bit of tenderness to break through to your exterior, smiling gently at him as you leaned into his touch. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I can trust you not to take too much, right?”

The lights were dim, but you could see enough of Eddie’s face to make out the glowing smile your trust had elicited. His hands curved gently along the back of your neck, cradling the base of your skull as he pulled your forehead to rest against his own. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

So much warmth flooded your chest at Eddie’s praise that it almost scared you. You knew this wasn’t compulsion- you felt complete control of your body and mind, and felt aware of your ability to tell him no. In fact, you knew in your heart that if you told him that you wanted to stop everything now, he would obey without a second thought, bid you goodnight, and walk right out that door.

But you definitely did not want that to happen.

That much was made clear by the pornographic moan that tumbled from your lips as Eddie’s claw drew a single, shallow gash down the center of your neck. His hand slotted under your jaw, applying enough pressure to hold off the blood flow above your neck for the fewest of seconds. Blood pooled in the cut, and Eddie admired his handiwork with hungry fascination.

“Gorgeous…” he muttered, leaning closer. Your heart was racing, undoubtedly causing the blood to rush even faster to your neck, and when you heard Eddie fucking inhale the scent of your blood like it was a perfectly aged Bordeaux? It started beating out a marathon.

The moment your scent hit his nostrils, you shivered as a guttural, primal rumbling rolled from Eddie’s chest. The growl grew into a moaning sigh as you felt his warmed wet lips envelop the base of the cut on your neck, and lick into the life that pooled there.

He sucked, pulling more into his mouth and you whimpered slightly from the sensation. As if to comfort you, his hands slid a little further down so that they cupped the vertebrae at the back of your neck, and it was strange how you could almost feel his touch getting warmer the more blood he took from you. He pulled your neck closer, hungry for all you had to give him.

For a moment you started to worry, fearing that you may have overestimated Eddie’s control over his bloodlust, but your worries were put to rest when he detached himself from his latch and licked up the minimal mess that he had made.

“Let’s get this off of you, Slayer.”

Eddie’s hands snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, causing you to shiver at the sensation of cold fingers on heated flesh. Before long, You were both stripped down to nothing and panting with need, a tangle of hands and lips and pulses as you melted into each other in the moonlight. He pushed you gently onto your back, climbing over you slowly and with purpose. You felt the hard length of his naked cock bounce against your thigh as he did, and the anticipation you began to feel between your legs was hot and wet, dripping from your lips as if it were salivating for him. You bucked up involuntarily, eliciting an amused chuckle from the vampire on top of you.

“Easy, baby,” Eddie cooed, “starting to think you only invited me in for one thing.”

“Oh blow it out your ass.” you rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t pretend you weren’t hoping for that one thing exactly.”

Eddie smiled, a twinkle in his eye launching your heartbeat into overdrive as he planted a quick peck to the cut on your neck and began to lower himself further south. “I may have had a hunch, yeah.” You watched with rapt attention as his face drew closer and closer to where you wanted him most, the echo of your dream still potent in your memory. What similar talents might the Eddie from your imagination have shared with the Eddie that currently studied your glistening pussy as if it were a delicacy to devour?

In your heart of hearts, you knew that every move you’d made tonight since Eddie walked through that door was absolutely insane. Masochistic, even. But your own idiocy was no match for the ecstasy that hit you when Eddie’s dextrous tongue dove into your folds, twisting and lapping up the essence that he craved in ways that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your arching form.

You moaned, writhing under his touch as his tongue glided over the dripping lips of your core, savoring the flavors of your arousal and the way they paired with the taste of your blood that still lingered in his senses.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart, goddamn.” Eddie’s voice was muffled, wet and hot in the way he spoke it into you and moved his lips along your pussy to speak the words. The sensation coupled with the commentary all but broke you, and you mewled a bewildered thank you as he continued his ministrations.

A sharp sting jolted you, ripping your eyelids open- you didn’t even remember closing your eyes- and it took a second to realize that Eddie had used his sharpened nails to create another gash at your inner thigh. It stung, but only slightly, so you assumed the cut must not be too deep.

“Sorry, sweetheart, did that hurt?” Eddie’s voice was soft and sympathetic as his fingers toyed with the small wound, gently pinching and pressing to undoubtedly coax more blood for him to enjoy.

“Little bit,” you whispered, and the voice that came out of your mouth was so high-pitched and airy that you hardly recognized it. “-but it’s not bad. It’s not too deep, right?”

“Nah, barely even a scratch.” Eddie assured you. “Besides, I’ll close it in a second anyway.”

Your head popped off the pillow. “You can do that?”

“Check your neck, sweetheart.”

You brought a hand to the place where Eddie’s cut had been, but were amazed to find that the cut was completely gone. You felt nothing but smooth, unscathed skin in its wake. Bemused, you checked the cut at your wrist and found it had healed as well.

“How did you do that?”

Eddie shrugged, the pads of his fingers beginning to draw idle shapes over your clit, mixing your blood with the wetness of your cunt. “Apparently, all I have to do is lick a scratch and it heals itself within minutes.” You jolted when you felt his lips close around your clit and suck, whining at the suction as he drew the mixture of your flavors into his mouth and hummed in satisfaction.

“Now if you don’t mind,” he murmured, “I was in the middle of something down here.”

You barely had time to nod before he was diving back between your legs, lapping up your essence with an urgency that lay somewhere between passionate purpose and reckless abandon. He alternated, going back and forth between the bloodied gash on your thigh and the shimmering lips of your dripping cunt.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, arching into the mattress as he moaned into you at the intensity of your taste. “More, please… I need… inside-”

In a blur of movement, Eddie’s face was level with yours, and you were staring directly into his lust-blown eyes as his cock nudged its head between your folds. Eddie shuddered at the feeling, closing his eyes as ecstasy overtook him and he slowly sheathed himself completely into you.

“Hoooooly shit, sweetheart-” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth. His arm reached behind your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and bringing his mouth to hover mere inches from your ear. “Fucking made for me, so fucking tight.”

When Eddie began to move, your hips bucked to meet him instinctively. In your current position, Eddie had you caged in and wrapped in his arms, held in place as he thrusted into you and grunted sweet, filthy nothings into your ear.

“Feel so good squeezing my cock, baby.”

“Wrap your legs around me, don’t let me leave.”

“God, you smell so fucking good, can still taste you on my lips.”

“Such a good little vampire slayer. Take it all, sweet thing.”

You were getting closer with every word; each whispered praise in your ear made you tighten more and more, but you weren’t quite there yet. As if he could read your mind, Eddie’s hand snaked down between your naked bodies until his middle finger came to rest on your throbbing clit. Careful to keep his claws from scratching the sensitive area, the soft pad of his finger slipped small circles over the wanting bud.

You mewled, eyes rolling back at the combined sensations. The stimulation was overtaking every sense, numbing you to everything but the climb of your orgasm that awaited you on the other side of the peak you were climbing.

“You know what’s crazy, Slayer?”

Eddie’s voice was husky in your ear, and you’d barely registered what he’d said before he continued.

“I didn’t even need the power to control your mind. Didn’t need to make you want me like this, you did that all yourself.”

You struggled to comprehend what he was getting at, but a particularly forceful thrust caused a sharp moan to leap from your lips. Eddie laughed, and it was somehow both musical and malicious all at once.

“Dreams are funny things… I showed up just to see what would happen, thinking ‘hey, there’s no way in hell she’d have me, right? But maybe in my dreams’...” Eddie chuckled ruefully, shifting slightly to angle his cock further into you and moaning at the way you gripped him tighter when your leg was tilted just so.

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. What did he mean he showed up? As in, showed up in your dream? Your mind was reeling, spinning in the midst of the jumbled logic of his words and the mounting pleasure his cock was driving into you.

“But it wasn’t even in my dreams that you wanted me, it was yours… in your dream you gave in to me so easily, practically begged me to tell you what to do…”

What? What was he… was Eddie saying what you thought he was saying? You squirmed, trying to lift him so you could look him in the eyes, but he held you in place- immobile and at his mercy. Your eyes widened as you stared up at the skylight in your ceiling. The moon was full tonight, and it stared down at you unwaveringly as Eddie continued to thrust into you and hit that spongy spot within your cunt over and over and over.

“The compulsion was a great touch, I hadn’t even thought of that until your delicious little brain took a turn for the kinky.” You could hear the smile on his panted words. “One dream told me all I needed to know… you wanted me just as bad, Slayer. Wanted- needed- permission to just let go and admit you wanted the bloodsucker’s cock, didn’t you?”

“Y-you….ah! Oh, fuck!”

You tried to respond, tried to tell him you needed a second to process what he was telling you, but before you could get more than a word out his finger began to work your clit at a pace so rapid, only a demon like him was capable. If you didn’t know better, you would think he’d pulled out a vibrator. That was how fast he was able to rip your orgasm from its precipice and make you spasm out of control around his cock.

“Shit!” You clenched at the sinful sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear as he unraveled inside of you. “Holy- I’m cumming, baby, fuck-” He continued to thrust into you as he rode out his orgasm, murmuring into your neck, “...mine. Fucking mine…”

Your eyes stared unblinking at the moon as you clenched around Eddie’s throbbing dick, mind beginning to flood with post-sex clarity as soon as your orgasm began to calm. Your chest felt like it was clawing at your heart, trying desperately to rip out the offending organ for overtaking the control that your brain was supposed to have had this entire time. Your instincts had tried- god, they’d fucking tried- to tell you not to trust the demon inside you, and yet here you were. Pinned to your own bed with his seed dripping from the most intimate parts of you, and you’d fucking invited him in.

How much of your attraction to him had been you, and how much had been him? You’d asked him so many questions this very night about his powers, what he was capable of- and he’d glossed over a very important piece of information by omitting the fact that he could make appearances in your fucking dreams.

Before you could even voice even one of the questions that swirled around in your head, Eddie’s eyes were hovering over yours, the moonlight dancing in a ghostly halo along his silhouette.

“Listen to me, Slayer.”

His eyes were pitch black, and you found yourself missing the brilliant ruby red they’d shone in your dream. Maybe that’s all tonight was? Just a horrible dream, and the one person you’d considered a friend in this godforsaken town was still someone you could trust.

“I’m going to get you cleaned up, you’re going to get under these covers, and then you’re going to go to sleep.” You heard him take a breath; felt his shaking exhale on your face. “When you wake up in the morning, you’ll forget everything that happened since I walked through that door.”

You blinked, listening intently. Obediently.

“I walked you home, said goodnight at the door, and left. Then you went inside, locked your door, and went to bed. Repeat it back to me.”

“You walked me home, said goodnight at the door, and left.” Your lips moved seamlessly of their own accord, parroting his own story back to him as you stared into those bottomless black eyes. “Then I went inside, locked the door, and went to bed.”

Eddie stared at you a moment, and there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. It suddenly dawned on you that his eyes weren’t normally black or red. They were brown. You missed how pretty those brown eyes were. They were sweet; honest. Trustworthy eyes.

Finally moving after a few seconds of watching you intently, searching your face for something he evidently couldn’t find, he leaned forward and tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Good.” he whispered, low and tired. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

The night played out exactly as Eddie said it would. He cleaned you up, taking the time to make sure he’d kissed every nick he’d made in your skin until there wasn’t a wound in sight. He watched silently as you cleaned your face, donned a soft shirt so large it reached mid-thigh, and slid under your covers. Eddie kissed you softly before wordlessly locking your doorknob from the inside and exited your apartment. You heard him double check the lock and leave once he was satisfied with your safety.

Then you fell asleep.

Eddie had only dreamwalked a few times before he’d realized that his newfound vampirism gave him the power to manipulate the dreams that he’d recently gained the ability to stumble into.

It had started when he’d heard Wayne sleeping restlessly in the living room of their trailer, tossing and turning on the couch with his forehead pinched with worry. Eddie had wanted so badly to ease his pain, and before he knew it he was watching his uncle’s nightmare playing out around him like he’d stepped onto the set of a film. He’d seen his own gravestone, seen Wayne tearing at the dirt until his fingers bled, and wanted nothing more than to alleviate his uncle’s pain- that yearning on his part had evidently been enough to cause the scene to shift in his favor. The grave had sunken into the ground, the sky changed from stormy gray to sunny blue, and the bed of dirt had become a gingham blanket, upon which sat a significantly happier Wayne and a sticky-fingered Eddie at age four holding a PB&J that was oozing out the sides.

It was at this moment that Eddie had started thinking that maybe these powers he’d gained might not be all bad.

He hadn’t realized he had the ability to manipulate memories until the first time Gareth had lost control and killed that girl from U.S. History.

She’d asked Gareth to meet her behind the bleachers after school, and Eddie had told him not to go, told him not to risk it, but Gareth was so fucking stubborn. The girl was cute, and the idiot had thought he could handle it. By the time Eddie had realized Gareth had ignored his warnings, it was too late.

Eddie had been so close to cleaning everything up seamlessly, and then some cheerleader had to go and stumble upon Gareth, Eddie, and the bloodless corpse of that poor girl. Eddie’s instincts had taken over, and before he knew it he’d grabbed the cheerleader by the shoulders and used every ounce of willpower he could muster to convince her that she hadn’t seen them at all, and in fact what she had actually seen was U.S. History girl walking into the woods behind the school.

It had been a desperate, kneejerk reaction, and Eddie had had next to no confidence it would work, but the next day he’d been amazed to hear that exact story being repeated through the rumor mill word for word. It gave Eddie and Gareth the cover they’d needed to take the girl’s body to the Upside Down and hide it where no one would think to look.

His abilities were handy tricks to have, sure… but it scared him. Eddie didn’t like that every new power he discovered within himself gave him a new way to get away with something awful. Eddie didn’t trust himself enough for that knowledge to sit well with him.

Now, he sat in the cafeteria at his usual table with Gareth, eyes sweeping the room for your face. He hadn’t seen you in the halls yet today, and even though he had every reason to be confident that you wouldn’t remember last night, he’d never tried to erase memories from a Slayer before. Maybe you had some sort of mental defenses against him? Maybe you were already waiting at his trailer, stake in hand? The unknown of it all was stressing Eddie out.

That’s what he was feeling- stress. Not guilt. Eddie had hardened his undead heart enough that he didn’t feel guilty for things like this anymore. If he had been completely honest about his powers at Benny’s, there’s no way you would have trusted him after that. After being an active player in your wet dream without your consent? He didn't know many people who wouldn’t hate his guts after that- hell, he hated his own guts after that. He was a horny creep who’d violated you in more ways than one, and there was no way anyone could forgive him for that. Why should you?

He could have been honest about his memory manipulating abilities, but the idea of giving that secret away had simply scared him too much. It was easier to keep that in his back pocket, and wasn’t that what you always had against him, after all? A wooden stake, always ready and waiting as a last resort. A failsafe.

No. Eddie didn’t feel guilty. For the sake of his own self-preservation, he couldn’t.

As if on cue, Eddie perked up when he saw you enter the cafeteria. Act casual, he reminded himself. He couldn’t act like anything was out of the ordinary, but at the same time he needed to be sure you remembered nothing. Then he could move on, not feel as… stressed.

He watched you discreetly, looking up from his crumpled bag of pretzels every twenty seconds or so to check if you were looking at him. You sat at your normal table on the opposite side of the room, pulling a sandwich from your bag and quietly began to eat your lunch. You didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with where Eddie was, much less whether or not he was looking at you.

Suddenly, as if you could feel his gaze on you, your eyes flicked up and locked with his. For a split second, Eddie’s confidence in his powers faltered- maybe his powers were useless against you; maybe you remembered last night in all its shameful glory. The jig is up, he thought, I’m caught. Let justice be served.

But all you did was smile at him and give a little wave before turning back to your sandwich.

Eddie felt a nudge at his elbow from Gareth. “You good, man?” the floppy haired boy glanced in your direction, raising an eyebrow in question.

You didn’t remember. Eddie should be relieved… he’d successfully befriended, seduced, and fooled The Slayer. This was a good thing.

“Yeah,” he huffed, reassuring Gareth with a curt nod. “I’m good.”

Good. Such a relative term. So many definitions for the word good, and yet not a single one would make ‘I’m good’ anything but a lie when it came from Eddie’s mouth.

He ran his tongue over one of his sharpened canines, pressing it into the tip hard enough to break skin. The taste of your blood that still lingered in his veins flooded his mouth for a split second before the puncture healed itself, and he closed his eyes to savor you for a moment.

No; Eddie Munson wasn’t good. He hadn’t been good for a very long time.

Taglist (just some people I think will be interested, as well as those who I've spoken to about this story during the MONTHS it took to finally finish): @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @littlesubbyflower, @msgexymunson, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch, @carolmunson, @bettyfrommars

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #fic recs

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

Text

> Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you

Jesus Christ that was so fucking hot dear god.

IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse.

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him.

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless.

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings.

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival.

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles.

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery.

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating.

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own.

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him.

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy.

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.”

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.”

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him.

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun.

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.”

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl.

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization.

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault.

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life.

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal.

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence.

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town.

Come to me.

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence.

Come to me.

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems.

“Why are you here?”

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him.

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible.

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment.

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…”

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you.

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give.

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.”

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch.

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own.

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths.

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness.

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-”

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep.

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns.

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away.

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs.

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.”

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down.

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him.

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.”

“So why are you still in pain?”

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other.

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.”

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps.

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…”

“Different?”

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind.

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night.

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.”

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger.

“What was the cost?”

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing.

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now.

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey.

Blood shouldn’t be sweet.

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow.

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you.

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance.

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in.

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration.

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed.

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?”

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees.

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?”

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.”

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.”

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance.

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it.

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them.

“Don’t,” he lowly warns.

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?”

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches.

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment.

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger.

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were.

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s.

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you.

He could almost taste you.

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.”

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable.

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger.

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone.

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch.

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.”

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer.

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone.

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him.

He’s losing control. You’re losing control.

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation.

A road to your hunger.

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease?

Probably.

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge.

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs.

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising.

Come to me.

“Please.”

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out.

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.”

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now.

You’re so close. So close.

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat.

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.”

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him.

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance.

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push.

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-”

He breaks.

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you.

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure.

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment.

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper.

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you.

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them.

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly.

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being.

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you.

I need more.

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his.

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously.

Then take it.

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt.

My pleasure.

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

Sweet as honey.

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words.

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with.

“Yes, please.”

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to.

And you most certainly did not want to.

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control.

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.”

Yes.

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.”

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously.

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this.

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.”

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy.

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters.

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts.

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure.

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.”

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical.

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him.

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine.

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood.

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin.

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?”

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.”

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry.

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you.

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity.

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance.

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you.

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself.

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.”

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares.

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his.

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth.

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him.

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure.

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.”

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it.

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed.

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you.

Eddie.

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire.

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter.

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours.

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done.

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.”

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.”

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.”

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough.

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough.

Of course, lover.

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them.

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #fic recs

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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Okay, hear me out. Imagine you got dragged to a Corroded Coffin show by your friends. You didn't want to be there. This kind of music isn't really your thing. You respect it, but it's not what you gravitate towards. Then you finally see Eddie come out, and he's making eye contact with the crowd. But he sees you out there looking up at him. He's singing to you. He's throwing beer caps at you if he catches you looking away. He's doing everything he can to keep your attention on him all night long.

Also, yes, I made more gifs to help feed your imagination. Yes, I know who this is. Let's just pretend.

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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“Lean back against me.”

It had been a bad day, nothing happened or went wrong but you were still left feeling worn to the bone and not wanting to do much of anything.

Something you couldn’t explain, it just was.

After barely touching your dinner, Eddie made quick work cleaning everything up before taking your hand and leading you upstairs.

“Wait here a minute, sweetheart.” He coos as you sit on the bed, placing a kiss to the top of your head before setting the bathroom up.

A warm bubble bath always makes things feel a bit better.

Words you told him many times when he was the one needing a little extra loving. You always take such good care of him, he only hoped he made you feel even half as good as how you made him feel.

Eddie pours a capful of citrus and bergamot scented liquid into the warm water slowly filling the tub, bubbles instantly forming along the surface. Gray fluffy towels are put onto the counter and robes are hung on the back of the door for easy access. The light switch is flicked off as a few unscented candles burn, casting the room in a warm glow.

"Perfect." A proud smile lights up Eddie's face as he turns to get you.

He holds his hands out to you, palms up inviting you to reach out to him, his warm eyes and smile melting away some of the aching in your body.

The moment your hands touch his, he pulls you up with so much care and whispered words full of love, bringing tears to your eyes.

You step into the tub, immediately wrapped up in the water's comforting hug as you sink further below the surface. With elbows pressed on the porcelain side, your chin rests on top of your hands, watching as Eddie prepares to join you.

He catches your eye in the mirror as he throws his hair up into a messy bun on the top of his head, shooting you a smirk that sends your heart racing.

"Wanna scoot up a bit so I can join you?"

You lean back into his chest, his arms like vines holding you tight as if he was the only thing keeping you together right now.

"I've got ya, sweetheart." Soothing words whispered into your ear as his head leans against yours, rubbing his cheek along yours the way a pair of cats might.

Kisses pressed to your temple as Eddie hums along to the music playing softly from the radio sitting on the windowsill.

You sink into him as you finally let the tears fall, allowing yourself to let go in the safety of his arms.

“It’s my turn to take care of you, angel.”

Sometimes you just need someone you can lean on.

#eddie munson x reader #fic rec #eddie munson imagine #fic recs

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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For the morning crowd 🖤

Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, major character death, graves, death, no seriously there is no comfort... okay maybe mayyyyyybe if you squint, but tbh just pure hurt, based on Life Eternal by Ghost

18+ MDNI

There was no denying the pain that came with having someone ripped from you far too soon, but what was worse was being unable even to have one last goodbye, being unable to see their face one last time before their soul departed from their body and before the rot settled in. There was something akin to a knife being driven through one's chest repeatedly when the devastating news of a loved one taking their last breath was delivered, and it was made much worse when the two parties touched each other’s souls in a way that no other had been able to.

Tears fell onto the dampened earth, the lot still fresh, disturbed. The cold granite of the headstone felt glacial and yet unreal. It was a physical manifestation of devastation and yet its existence felt completely ersatz. Not only because the stone was clean for the most part - barring the red spray paint that refused to be removed, another permanent mark on the memories of that which is lost - but also because stuck out like a sore thumb in the old and run-down cemetery, a symbol of the young loss.

Sobs wracked your body and your breathing uneven, but how could it ever be even again? It wouldn’t be, not as you sat at your kitchen table to receive the news, not as you received the devastating emotional blow of finding out that there wasn’t a body to be recovered, and not when you were in front of his grave, knowing that he wasn’t even beneath the earth below your feet. How nobody was able to find him left your mouth drier than the Sahara - you weren’t able to hold his hand one last time, no matter how cold they would be, unable to see his button nose or hug his dying body to you as you lost him for what felt like the second time in the span of a week. You choked on your breath for what was probably the hundredth time, the hundredth time you breathed your soul out through earth-shattering devastation.

With nobody but the sodden cemetery ground to turn to, you fisted the earth and let out a heart-shattering sob into the open air, nobody to hear you or to console you through the pain. The one person you wanted most was the one person you would never see again. The lump in your throat silenced your voice, vocal cords worn thin from the sleepless nights that you sobbed into the infamous Hellfire shirt he wore. His scent was quickly fading from it and once you had realised that you were left an even bigger wreck than you could have imagined - the last tether to him slowly fraying, the last little fibres unravelling themselves in tune to your own emotional demise.

Your whole body shook with anger and heartbreak - you wanted to get out of this god-forsaken town, but he haunted you and this cursed place was the only thing keeping him alive. You could swear that you’d feel his hands on your shoulders while you tried to cook - the first time it happened, you called his name before the sensation disappeared into thin air, leaving you heaving for oxygen. Your food was forgotten and left to burn while your wails carried through your apartment and your eyes stung from the tears. That night you sobbed until there was no longer any breath left in your lungs, until the walls of your home felt cold and unwelcoming.

The second time it happened, you were walking past the arcade and you could have sworn you felt his hands on your hips and a laughter-filled call of your name. That time you spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance, head whipping around to see who it was behind you, but his voice haunted you and so you pushed past everyone in your way, trying to hold yourself together enough to break down the moment you reached your car. You didn’t make it and instead, you found yourself sitting by your car’s front tire as you bawled, your body wracked with tremors. They felt never-ending – the tremors – terrorising you when you would least expect them. You longed for his arms around you again, to hear his laugh, to dance with him in your little kitchen as you did on the first night you had moved into your place. The memory only served as a painful reminder of that which you no longer had. Your body had memorised the way he held you to him, his quivering voice that told you that you’d touched his soul forever before leaning in for the most gentle kiss. The way his kiss seared into your skin was like a burn that would flare up when you least expected it, and it was clear that he too had touched your soul in a more permanent way than you had ever expected him to.

“Eddie…” You sniffled, managing to find the capacity to croak out his name for the first time in months but the assault of tears that came immediately after you breathed life back into his name was too painful, your chest seizing, lungs collapsing on themselves as if you’d just been plummeted a thousand leagues under the dark ocean. Your life certainly felt much darker with him gone. You longed for him, even while he was around, you longed to spend time in his arms, to hear him ramble about his campaigns, about his little sheep, but now that he was gone you couldn’t help but yearn for all that you used to have with him.

It had been months of this, of showing up to his gravestone and having to clean it from the obscenities that adorned it, a painful reminder of how little love he received for how much of it he had in his heart. You spent agonising hours scrubbing the red paint off with cleaning products and salty tears, leaving flowers and letters to him in hopes that they would somehow reach him on the other side, and yet with each passing day, the fire that lit your soul grew darker, and the yearning only grew stronger. Your jaw was in a state of constant pain from how much you were trying to hold yourself together, clenching it in both your waking hours and the moment sleep consumed you, trying to keep your very being from shattering.

“Can you hear me say your name? Can you see me longing for you?” Your voice was hoarse, unused for far too long. You barely recognised it yourself, as if it was a third party speaking for you, projecting your thoughts for you. The moment you realised you had spoken, another wave hit you, knocking you down further than you had been before. You dug your hands into the graveyard dirt and let out a shaky breath, unable to fathom the reality that wrapped itself like a noose around your neck, slowly suffocating you. You wanted nothing more than to scream but the cry never came - your last breath was spent, it seemed, and all you could muster was a weak whimper. How could he be gone? You wondered to yourself, unable to come to terms with the devastating passing of your boyfriend. You refused to believe it, the lack of a body, he couldn’t be gone, could he? But as the days passed, your hope dwindled, and you had to resign yourself to the reality that he was gone. You had to just let go… Or so everyone seemed to preach.

The promises you both whispered to each other in the dead of night, when the witching hour struck, and you had nothing but each other, haunted you. Sometimes you swore that you could hear whispers of his voice when you couldn’t fall asleep but ultimately it was most likely your delirious conscience that plagued you, making you hear things in the dead of night.

“You promised…” Your sobs wracked your body, shuddering the more you tried to contain your tears, your voice completely breaking as you let go of the last ounce of strength that held you together. Your mind wandered to the sweet nothings that Eddie would shower you with, and that is what they amounted to in the end, wasn’t it? Nothing. With him gone, you didn’t have any options but to let go of those feelings, those sweet words, those promises of being yours forever. His romantic monologues and ramblings of being yours forever, and if death chose to do you part, how he’d find your soul once again from the afterlife, you had to let them go for they found themselves amounting to nothing. Death did you part, except it didn’t take you as well.

You danced slowly in the candlelight, your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist, and his soft lips right beside your ear. He pulled you close to his body and while he was warm, his hands were cold against yours, as if he’d just come in from a cold winter’s night, but all he had done was share a joint with you, something that loosened you both up after your long day. His wild curls tickled your soft face and you giggled at some ridiculous line he was feeding you but soon the suave facade fell and his voice dropped to a low murmur.

“Sweetheart, I love you.” His voice rattled, rattled like old windows in a summer storm, sturdy, protective, and yet stable, protecting that on the inside. “I would rip the heavens apart to find you again. I’d search for you in the afterlife if it meant I could be with you in lifetimes to come.” And while this sounded like standard Munson drivel, there was a certain intonation that inclined you to believe him.

“I don’t think God would be too happy with you, Munson, nor the devil himself for that matter.” You tried to joke with him but it fell on deaf ears. Eddie was unrelenting with his honesty. His voice was earnest and thick with emotion when he answered you, a conviction you’d never heard before lacing itself into every word.

“I don’t care, sweetheart, I’d fight Gods and devils alike… I’d fight Satan himself for you if it meant getting to be with you in the next life.” You couldn’t do anything but hold him closer in this moment, your words dying on your tongue. How were you to answer him when his emotions were so raw? How could you even muster up something as eloquent to say to him when he opened his heart up to you in such a vulnerable way?

“I’d raise armies to rip hell apart to find you, Eddie. I’d be longing for you forever…” You whispered to him as you both slowly danced together, the candles flickering softly, illuminating both your features in a warm glow - there was nothing more beautiful than the love you both shared, nothing more pure.

Your forehead fell to the dank earth, lungs set ablaze by your dry heaving. You couldn’t find it in you to make this the moment you just let it go. Your soul called out for him as you longed painfully for his touch, his soft words of reassurance, but you wouldn’t get them, never again. The most you had was the little love notes he left you, his DnD notebooks… There wasn’t all too much that was left of your boyfriend, and you cherished every last thing that you had in your possession. He had touched your soul forever, whether he knew it or not.

Your eyes burned painfully as sobs tore through your raw throat, your fingers digging further into the fresh dirt of the uprooted grave. The further you stuck your hands in, the more you prayed you’d hit something, anything, but you never would. Your hands would grow cold, and there would be a story in your heart - yours and Eddie’s - but your hands would never again find his body, never again hold him to you. They would never run through his tangled curls, or feel the plush of his lips, no, instead they’d feel the humidity seep into their bones and devour them from the inside out the longer you kept them buried, and the dirt would surely cake your fingernails to the point you wouldn’t be able to get it out from underneath them. The scent of petrichor would overtake the smell of weed, cigarettes, and his cheap musky cologne. You’d never feel his callouses graze across your soft skin again, and that small detail, the one that made Eddie so… so him, would in a year escape you, fading into nothingness as you were forced to let go of him.

You wanted to dance with him once again, to feel the chill of his long fingers against yours but that was something that wouldn’t ever come back. Not even in the ghostings of touches, the whispers and bumps that came in the night. No matter how much those moments shattered you, no matter how much pain they brought on, the most painful would be the moment you forget the feeling of his lips or the way his hands splayed across the small of your back - those moments would disappear one day… or one day until someone came along that made you remember it, and that day would be one that would make every other touch but Eddie’s feel wrong. Nobody would have the honour to touch you in the same ways as he did.

As you bawled into the graveyard dirt, you could have sworn there was a weight on your upper back and while it wasn’t pushing you into the dirt itself, it might as well have been. Part of you hoped it would be Eddie’s arm around you but when you turned, your body was violently assaulted by an onslaught of sobs at the realisation that your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold you while you cried. You were choking on each short breath, unable to calm yourself down. The one time you needed him more than anyone, he wasn’t present.

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you.

There was something so off about the whole situation, about how clinically everything was treated, about how none of his “friends” seemed to show up. The funeral was quick and dirty, arranged by Wayne and yourself in the best way you both knew and after everything was said and done, you hid away, isolating yourself from the world itself. You barely left the house. The only time you breathed the fresh Hawkins air was when you went to visit his grave or the once-a-month trip to get groceries. You should have gone to see Wayne but he reminded you too much of everything that was ripped away from you and while you yearned to visit the man and sit down with him, to speak Eddie back into existence through memories and laughter, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You couldn’t bring yourself to break your heart over and over again even though you knew that in some capacity you both needed each other in order to sew together your broken hearts.

“P-please Eds…” You choked out, your emotions were getting away from you, the more you thought about it, about him, the more you felt like you lost your family. He was your rock, the love of your life, in your own ways you’d sworn yourselves over to each other, sworn yourselves to life eternal with one another, and so having him ripped from you so suddenly left a dark pit in your chest, deeper than the ninth circle of hell would ever reach. You didn’t think it would have been possible for

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

The wind blew colder and you shivered, but you didn’t dare move, not an inch, because it meant moving from the grave you’d come to memorise - your muscles, your fingers, your heart, even your nose, all of you had come to memorise his grave - it was ingrained in you, and the epitaph was one that burned across your vision every single time your eyes closed – another ghost haunting you as you tried desperately to soothe your aching heart. People who say breakups would be easier are liars, you decided in this moment.

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

They’d be easier because maybe on the off chance you’d get to have the person in your life, in your heart, you wouldn’t lose all the meaningful quirks the person had, you wouldn’t forget them in due time. You wouldn’t have a dead-end trail left of them, and yet… and yet it wouldn’t be easy either. Part of you wished you could have been the one to see the light disappear from his eyes, to have this confirmation of his departure from the mortal realm, another part of you didn’t even want to think of the darkness taking over his eyes, the reflection of the light fading to nothing, his breath stopping, and his brain giving out. You simultaneously wanted and did not want to be the one to witness his last breath, you did and didn’t want to be the one to watch the light behind his eyes disappear as he croaked, you did and did not want him gone because you weren’t sure which would wind up being easier to deal with.

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

“I wish you were here, Eds.” You sniffled the moment your sobs slowed, your body taking too much stock into keeping you alive and warm. You had exhausted yourself and cried every last tear you had in you for today, leaving a dry husk - a shell of a human – until tomorrow when you’d replenished your tear ducks.

I’m right here with you always. I’m not going anywhere, I promised you that not even death could do us part.A cold gust of air pushed your hair from your face and you couldn’t contain your shiver, the cold was becoming as unbearable as your boyfriend’s passing, every waking hour haunted by memories of him, every corner of Hawkins harbouring his ghost, and every unconscious moment plagued by nightmares of his last moments, twisting memories, contorting them into grotesque scenes of abject horror. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up to your knees and swallowed down any emotions you had, bringing your soiled sleeve to your face and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. You were sure you looked like you had just crawled out of the grave due to the amount of dirt that caked your body and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he was gone.

With a shaky breath, you leaned over and kissed his gravestone, your eyes fluttering shut, and at that moment you swore you heard his voice calling to you, you swore you felt the warmth of his hand on your puffy cheek, his thumb brushing across the damp valley of your eye. You kept your eyes shut for just a moment longer, longing to feel this small moment of reprieve despite the fact that it probably did far more harm than it did good.

“I’m with you always, sweetheart.” Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped against the headstone, lip trembling as you tried to bite into it from the inside of your mouth - you couldn’t stop the heavy squeezing around your heart nor the feeling of a dark pit opening itself up in your stomach. When you lost your boyfriend a chasm had ripped itself through your chest, leaving you empty and numb to everything but the onslaught of pain that each waking moment brought you. Each waking moment was plagued with the knowledge that Eddie was gone before you were even aware of it. You hadn’t even been in town when the manhunt had begun, having been away to visit your mother’s side of the family, only to come home to find out he was in hiding - ripped away from you once, then twice.

The fresh torrential downpour of tears was unexpected but they kept you at his grave, they kept you closer to him, they kept him alive even by some fucked up means. If crying for him meant that his memory was kept alive then you’d cry for him into the next lifetime, and while you thought you’d cried them all away, it seemed that neither love nor grief had limits.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #hurt/no comfort #eddie angst #heartbreakeddie munson angst #life eternal #reader insert #ghost bc #ghost #life eternal - ghost #songfic #angst #pure pain tbh idk what you expected

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

Ohh ohhh this one little moment of lost composure, the one moment we see how he feels inside is so good. While reader doesn’t know, we do, and it makes this so much better.

For a split second we see his frustrations, his grief, and all encapsulated in the one straw hair that breaks you.

This is so fucking good, Bug jfc I need more.

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair.

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life.

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?”

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?”

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room.

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away.

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth.

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side.

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class.

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed.

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora.

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her.

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.”

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride.

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it.

Now was not the time to slack.

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior.

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self.

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed.

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought.

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date.

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture.

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart.

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.”

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over.

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop.

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin.

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.”

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air.

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again.

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running.

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.”

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.”

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over.

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin.

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology.

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?”

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.”

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve.

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim.

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens.

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger.

It was raw shame.

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight.

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

18+ MDNI

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you.

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #heartbreakeddie munson angst #hurt/no comfort #eddie angst #reader insert #life eternal #ghost #ghost bc #life eternal - ghost #songfic #angst #pure pain tbh idk what you expected

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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I'm writing my angsty shit and doing some mild editing. Throw shit into my asks and I'll answer

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #ask me anything #ask box is open bitches #please ask me things I wanna talk to ya'll

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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Did someone ask for heart shattering Eddie Munson angst? No? Well too bad. It's coming at you - and while we're on the topic of Eddie Munson, yet chapter 6 of AFS is coming at you all soon!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #heartbreak #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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If you receive this, you make somebody happy! send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! xo @munson-blurbs 💚

God fucking 😭 RIP MY HEART OUT BUG. Christ I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you I love you

#vintage asks #ev answers #vintage answers

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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drop this sunflower 🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! lets spread a little sunshine ☀️🩷 xo @munson-blurbs

Baby I have been so absent from tumblr, but OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. God, you're such a fucking angel. I am on my period and now I'm sobbing

#Vintage answers #Ev answers

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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Tag Game - Valentine's Day Date Edition

Fictional boyfriend: Sodo 🤭

What are you wearing: Low cut lace top, leather harness with o-rings, and a latex or PVC pencil skirt - black platform heels. Scythe Necklace and dagger earings.

What's he wearing: Prequelle/Meliora era ghoul outfit - with the fucking tailcoat because 🥵

What's he picking you up in: Probably his car? Idk? Idk what Sodo would even drive.

Where are you going: The cemetery for a picnic probably let's be real - though I could see him taking us out to our favourite restaurant/a new restaurant we've been dying to try.

What restaurant: Somewhere tucked into an old building that was built in the late 1800's early 1900s - bonus points if it's Victorian style and has a bar/speakeasy

What are you drinking: Red wine, the blood of Christ, whatever is most sinful

What's he getting you: An orgasm or 3

What are you getting him: That's for me to know, him to find out, and ya'll to stay out of 😏 *Body and Blood plays*

How are you ending the night: By Celebrating the female orgasm obviously

Just for fun - gotta keep that delusion fed 💕✨

💕🤍🫶🎀❤️🌹💕🤍🤭🎀❤️🌹💕🤍🤭

Tag to keep it rolling

@rip-quizilla @word-wytch @storiesbyrhi @louloulemons-posts

Idk these are no pressure tags have fun!!!

Tag Game - Valentine's Day Date Edition

Fictional boyfriend:

What are you wearing:

What's he wearing:

What's he picking you up in:

Where are you going:

What restaurant:

What are you drinking:

What's he getting you:

What are you getting him:

How are you ending the night:

Just for fun - gotta keep that delusion fed 💕✨

💕🤍🫶🎀❤️🌹💕🤍🤭🎀❤️🌹💕🤍🤭

Tag to keep it rolling

#tag game #idk how to tag this #I'm sorry I;ve been absent

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vintagehellfire · 2 months

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REBLOG IF YOU HAVE STRETCHMARKS

This way people can see they’re not alone. I have them and this would help me see that.

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vintagehellfire · 3 months

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15k of smut? From me? More likely than you think. Happy Valentine’s Day whores 💋🖤

Bewitch You | E.M x Reader

summary: A year and a half after you tryst with a certain ghoul, you find yourself back at their show, this time hurting and yearning.

warnings: if you thought it couldn't get filthier... It did. Porn without plot. Plot? What plot? Okay maybe a little plot. Blood kink, blood play, choking kink, breath play, oral (f receiving), dom sub dynamics, bdsm dynamics, devil worship, lust, pure unadulterated sin, spit kink, spanking, unprotected sex (raw dogging the devil is cool and all but like fucking wrap it up), bruising, sacrilege, teasing, jealousy, pure filth, this is not a house of the holy. 18+. mdni

previous part

15.5k words

It had been a year since that night, a year of your mind being clouded, a year of trying to find something even remotely akin to what you had lived through that fateful night at the show Lilly dragged you to. The first week or so after was lovely, honest. You had sent him a message and though he took a minute to reply, he was present, then as messages slowed, anxiety ate away at you gently, leaving you feeling a little inadequate. What if you were just for fun? You had drank together, he got his dick wet, you got the best sex of your life, and that was that right? But with every little quip he sent in reply, your heart would still swell and the bats in your stomach would start flapping their wings once again. You tried not to get too excited, Eddie was… a rockstar. He was always on the road, always touring, always away. You were stupid to expect anything more than a one-night stand right? But when you received an innocent message stating that he wished you were there, your heart all but stopped. No matter how many replies you drafted out, they all felt wrong. Either too overstated or too blasé. Besides, he couldn’t mean it, right? He’s certainly got a repertoire of people he pulls backstage or into the greenroom and this just so happened to be his unlucky night.

In all your anxiety, you had completely forgotten to reply, leaving the musician on read and by the time you noticed, you were too ashamed to apologise, besides, he’d certainly gotten his fill of sex throughout the tour – not that you cared. Regardless, there was a sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, so when Lilly informed you that they were back in town for a show in a few weeks, your heart fell through into your stomach, and nausea rippled through you, reaching your throat and choking you. You couldn’t catch your breath.

“I know they’re not your favourite band, but you could at least pretend to be happy for me.” Lilly harumphed out when she noticed you weren’t even feigning enthusiasm like you did the year prior. It wasn’t just that… If you were being honest, Eddie’s enthusiasm got you to love some songs, his ramblings captivating you, but the lack of communication left a bitter taste in your mouth, and it had an even darker grip on your heart.

“S’not that Lil.” You sigh, a melancholic note overshadowing any other emotion you tried to draw out into the open. “S’just, last time… It was great until it wasn’t.” You sheepishly admit. Lilly didn’t know the raunchy details, she didn’t want to because seeing your neck was all the information she needed. It was understood that you had found someone that night that you could have taken home, didn’t, and you had been bitter ever since, a darkness in the heart of your love and it wasn’t letting up. You’d never let your best friend know who you bedded, and just how attached you’d become. Attachment was a recipe for getting hurt, and you promised yourself, never again.

That was the problem though, you made yourself promises you couldn’t keep.

“Well, whatever it is, can’t you,” she sighed and turned to you, “can’t you just put it behind you and come enjoy the show with me? Please?” Her big pleading eyes met yours, and how were you supposed to say no? She looked like a kicked puppy, and so with a long exasperated sigh, you nodded, allowing her this small victory, agreeing to go to this show with her. Maybe it would be your chance to prove to the masked musician that you were doing fine without him — no matter how big of a lie that was.

So about two and a half weeks later when the fateful day came, your emotions were dancing Musetta’s Waltz, waves of nausea coming and going based on how much you dared pay attention to them. Part of you was praying that Eddie had opted to join some other band in the meantime, but as reality would have it, the world was against you. It wouldn’t give you a moment to rest, because as soon as the velvet curtain dropped to reveal the band, your eyes caught sight of the slim and alluring frame that haunted your dreams with promises unfulfilled. A foreign emotion bubbled in your chest and you nearly choked back a sob, avoiding everyone’s gaze, eyes tearing away from your ghoul under all circumstances. Part of you wished his presence wasn’t so electrifying, it would have been easier.

Little did you know that Eddie was trying to make it difficult to avoid him, his suggestive actions always directed towards you, every roll of his hips left him moaning and yet fuming all the same. There was a reason he was the fire ghoul, his demeanour was too unpredictable and his temper fiery. He was a real firecracker and nobody could tell when he’d explode, now with your eyes avoiding him, it was setting his veins alight, flames lapping at his skin, embers of anger maintained far longer than they should have been, kindling added with every break of eye contact. A question loomed over Eddie’s head, unbeknownst to you, about why you were here if you were so adamant about snubbing him, to give him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t like he had been the one to ignore you- you had ignored him... You were aware of it too, you were aware that it was your fault the two of you were no longer speaking, but it was to protect yourself, right? Unfortunately protecting yourself had its side effects, ones which included the poor ghoul on stage getting hurt in the aftermath.

You couldn’t deny that the ghouls were talented, nor could you deny that your heart remained still while you watched them, but most notably, you couldn’t hide the emotions written on your face, the slight downturn of the corners of your lips left very little to be imagined. How you wished more than anything that you could cower behind a resting bitch face like you normally would – like you had last year – but unfortunately it wasn’t that easy. While the band played through their heavy songs your face remained stone cold, unfeeling, your eyes hollow, lacking the spark that the masked man on stage had caught the year prior. There wasn’t a spark of fire, no hatred underneath your gaze, no, you just seemed empty, a shell of the person you were before and all that would be Eddie’s fault. There was a desperation to every movement, a desperation to see that same fire inside you once again even if he has to fuck it back into you. It was an all-consuming desire that the ghoul could not shake, one that devoured him from the inside out.

You watched the band, eyes gravitating more to the rhythm guitarist this time. He seemed to be less cocky, more party tricks than that of your favourite ghoul, less suggestive, but nonetheless pleasant to keep an eye on. He was the furthest from you and so it made him an ample distraction from the masked man who all but made it his mission to capture your attention once again. The distraction was wonderful, and it was almost effective, almost. The moment one of the slower songs started, people’s lighters coming up to light up the stadium, you nearly lost all composure, your resolve crumbling like marble pillars, your heart cracked through, and this was the final nail in the coffin. Your eyes gravitated towards Eddie, tears brimming your eyes as you finally found the courage to look at him. If he were any weaker, his heart would have stopped, he would have fallen to his knees, because the look in your eyes was enough to shatter souls, and he was certain it shattered his. Satanus, he was lucky he didn’t mess up, his vision blurring behind his mask. He was solely relying on his motor skills and muscle memory but he dared not look away from you, instead, you watched as he kneeled in front of you, playing his heart out, pointing to himself to emphasise certain lyrical phrasings. It was this that did you in, the morcels of your heart shattering into pieces that you couldn’t possibly imagine putting back together.

The two of you had your eyes locked, or at least that’s what it seemed like, the rest of the band falling away into the background, as did the crowd, everyone singing along but you, you who tried to give a semblance of a smile to the man who had taken you to the greenroom the previous year but the grimace that your face contorted into felt awkward, uncomfortable. The embers of his eyes searching deep into yours, a fire lighting in the pit of your stomach, the flames licking up to your heart and trying to heal the wounds left in your chest. You watched him closely, a scared animal, cowering away as the predator tried to coax you into his voracious maw, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes from the imminent danger. Unfortunately for him, as the song came to an end, you shook your head, blinking back tears, and you were back to eyeing his band member from a distance – the one whom Lilly had told you was nicknamed Phantom – it was safer this way, keep your distance, don’t get hurt. Look but don’t touch, admire but don’t get involved. You could have sworn the man in front of you let out a guttural scream from behind his mask, but you couldn’t tell, all you knew was that he slammed his hand over the pick-ups of his guitar in time to the next song, a dissonant sound emitting from the amp, one that perfectly reflected how you felt inside. Dissonant, disconnected, yet melding with everything and everyone else.

Unlike last time, the show dragged on until you couldn’t stand it any longer, your oesophagus closing up with every passing song, choking you until you couldn’t stand it anymore. No amount of water would help you, no amount of apologies would save you, and no amount of kisses would mend your wounds. You felt completely enveloped in despair, an all-consuming sadness pooling in your veins. As much as you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter, it did. You never did like one-night stands and partaking in one with a rockstar was clearly a recipe for disaster, did you even think it would be any different? That he would slip you his number and you’d fall in love? Unlikely. That’s why you were here, right? Closure or something, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. As much as you yearned for closure, your heart yearned for the confirmation that in some way or another, he was still yours, that he was with you always, but it was less than probable. The cold that enveloped your heart ran deep, icy protrusions protecting the organ from further hurt. It would take a lot to crack it, but it would also take a lot to completely sever the ties you had with the ghoul, no matter how small they might have been – sometimes the smallest knots are the hardest to undo.

If any onlooker were to have paid an iota of attention to you and the fire ghoul, they would have noticed a chemistry there, some tension that was pulled so tight that it was mere moments from snapping. Every roll of his hips had you wishing he’d roll them into you, but your wishes were a trigger for your anger, your sadness, your deep-seated sorrow. Likewise, every time he would make sweet gestures or try to reach his hand out towards you for you to take, someone would beat you to it, reaching for him in your place, leaving his hand retracting faster than a lightning strike. People often poked fun at him edging the crowd, leaving them wanting more, but what nobody accounted for was that it was actually for someone. The booming of Mountain’s bass drum was no match for the sound of two hearts breaking in unison, and it never would be.

In retaliation, you huffed, pushing past your best friend with a weak apology, empty even, and headed towards stage left, the fire ghoul’s jaw clenching as you pushed away from his side. The embers behind his mask burned with fury, his gaze following your figure – a predator after his prey. Regardless of what was going on with him, you brushed it off, rolling your eyes so hard they could have fallen out of your head. With your decision, the ghoul seemed to throw himself around far more carelessly, making an erratic show for the crowd, trying to harness his unbridled rage into something more, something bigger than himself. He wasn’t mad at you though, no, he was mad at himself. Your attention drifted towards Phantom, your eyes softening as you were met with the tall figure, his hips rolling into the air, guitar neck pressed up next to his head as he chugged through a heavy riff. You offered him a soft smile, a phantom barely there, and he seemed to cock his head at you in acknowledgement. His eyes settled on you, his nose gently scrunching, a smile returned your way although you couldn’t see it.

Phantom was captivating in his own regard, his hips softly rolling forward, smoothly, and for a second you allowed your mind to wander, what if he rolled his hips into you instead of the fire ghoul? No, that was ridiculous. You brushed that thought off as quickly as it came, but there wasn’t any harm in flirting, was there? After all, it would be innocent, just a little something to feel wanted, desired, to fill that hole that your masked ghoul left in your chest. You watched intently as he swung the guitar around carelessly, playing it with his hand above the neck instead of underneath, your gaze unwavering. The spry ghoul sure had his moments, you had to give him that, and the energy that buzzed between the two of you was quite something, but it wasn’t quite enough.

The intro to your favourite song soon rang through the concert hall, the soundscape entirely enveloped by the sheer aggression of the song, and as it reached the bridge, building you up just to let you down softly, Phantom slung his guitar over his shoulder, his foot coming up on the speaker in front of you, and he bent down far. His masked face mere inches from yours had your breath hitching, but it had someone else fuming. With a crooked finger, Phantom beckoned you closer as he backed up, once again lifting his guitar in the air, sensually grinding into thin air as he played through the repetitive riff. It was difficult to peel your eyes away and that in particular left your precious fire ghoul in a brutal rage. You barely noticed when he stalked closer, your focus too taken with with the taller of the two.

Before either of you could register what was happening, your ghoul leaned up against Phantom, head nuzzling into his shoulder, hip rutting forward, his arm snaking around to the taller’s chest, trailing up to his neck and squeezing. While it seemed gentle, it was a clear warning, a tad possessive, domineering even but Eddie would never admit it, how could he when there was nothing but pure unadulterated hurt and rage coursing through his veins? Swiftly, he bit the taller’s shoulder, causing him to jump at the contact – it wasn’t in the plan, none of this was, but Eddie needed you to look at him the same way he needed air to breathe. He was desperate for your attention, acting out in any way he saw fit just to get an ounce of it. It was like trying to get a drop of water during a drought, and you were trying so hard not to give him any and yet it didn’t appear to be working. You weren’t able to keep your eyes from him; however, his head rolled against Phantom, and Phantom carefully leaned into him in turn, his back arching gently so as not to hurt himself in the process.

There was a certain intimacy the two displayed that set you alight and it shouldn’t have, it shouldn’t have made your brain swirl with dirty thoughts, nor with jealousy, but here you were. Part of you was still fuming, however, you didn’t want to pay attention to the fire ghoul, you wanted to forget him but the kindling that ignited the fire between your thighs wouldn’t let up. Your eyes, no matter how tired and weary they were from the past year, found themselves gravitating towards the shorter of the pair, the flirtatious glint behind them disappearing into the dark of your pupils – a black hole absorbing all light it touches, that is what Eddie did to you. You watched him intently as he ground his hips into the taller, accentuating every word with a rut forward, head dropping forward as the frontman let out a breathy scream from centre stage. Why did the ghoul need your attention so badly that he had to gravitate towards your side? Why couldn’t he let up? Why did he have to have every ounce of your attention?

You struggled to fight your own emotions, your heart wanting to forgive him, your brain stubborn, stuck in a warzone of overthinking and self-doubt, each thought going off like a bomb.

Little did you know that the ghoul in question was growing rather frantic, desperate for you to look at him like you once had. He wanted- no, he needed that connection with you. It wasn’t ego, it wasn’t for a trophy, but it was completely selfish, his yearning reaching a breaking point. He was desperate for your attention, his eyebrows knitting together under his mask, his actions more and more erratic, like those of a feral cat. His last resort was going down on his knees below Phantom, dropping to the ground to play the guitar at him, shredding his fingers in the process. His bandmate whipped his head around at this, contorting his body to face the shorter and he rolled his hips forward boldly despite the knowledge that this was not part of the well-practised routine. It was a confrontation for later, but it mattered not to you, or Eddie, at this moment. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two, the energy electrifying, but mostly, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to the man who had fucked the idea of a one-night stand out of you the year prior. His presence was all-consuming, even when you so desperately wanted to hate him, though was it your place to hate him? You swallowed down hard, your spit lodging itself halfway down your throat in an uncomfortable lump yet you didn’t know whether to focus on that of the slow and growing ache between your thighs. Your breathing suddenly shallowed out, and you wished it was a product of the ghoul’s teasing. Instead, you wanted out, you needed out, but simultaneously you wanted your out to be in his arms. You wanted to plant yourself firmly in his grasp, firmly in his loving hold, firmly under his body, as he fu- No!

As Eddie got up from his knees, he swung his legs around, his body contorting towards you, his being lurching forward, desperate for your attention, desperate to be near you. His head thumped against the ground before he flung himself violently backwards - in turn, your body lurched forward, scared he was going to hurt himself. You cursed yourself for the small moment of weakness, a flicker of angry hope in you, hope that he hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately for you, he had. He propped himself onto his knees before springing back up, his body thrashing to the music before he slowed, head listing to the side as he observed you for any micro reaction. Carelessly, he flung his guitar pick into the crowd, bringing his hand to his spare picks, tossing them away in a “they love me, they love me not” fashion until he reached his very last one, one that he leaned over the barricade for. His arm extended towards you, his hand motioning for you to come hither, to give him your hand. Regardless of whether or not it was your hand he was after, fans reached out, swallowing you into a pit of frantic motions, desperate touches, and a fiery passion behind their every move.

Eddie gave them no chance to stand their ground, batting their hands away from your own, leaning forward until he was certain he would fall off the stage, his fingers gently beckoning you forward. Your eyes welled up and the only thing you knew to do was point to yourself as you watched him nod in confirmation. Your arm extended out, fingertips uncurling to welcome his own, the etched pick being securely and firmly placed in your grasp. The second his warm skin made contact with your own, your heart lurched in your chest, catching itself halfway up your throat as you fisted his last guitar pick. He didn’t care, he would bleed for you a hundred times over if it meant proving himself to you and that’s what he did.

With a sanguinary force, the very man before you threw himself back into the performance but there was something off, the upstrokes sounding more muffled than usual. As you watched his hands, it dawned on you that he was playing without a pick, the brass wires tearing at his skin, the thin upper strings sawing into his calloused fingers. He made a show to abuse this guitar, eyes transfixed on you, the fiery passion burning a hole into your soul. You felt oddly seen, and you could just envision the devilish thoughts swirling in your ghoul’s brain. The harder he pushed himself, the more it physically showed, a small tear in his pinky that sprinkled a crimson liquid across the cream body of his Stratocaster.

The longer the song ran, the stronger his desperation grew, his strumming and fingering becoming far more erratic. It hit a breaking point when he began painting the off-white surface red, the embers behind his goggles transfixed on you, unwavering – you’d be lying if you said the scene before you didn’t go straight to your core, a small whimper leaving your lips, bottom lip trembling with want. All the anger released itself from your body and you were left with nothing but a yearning for his touch and a deep-seated sadness that would only budge under the condition that the ghoul held you in his arms. You were hypnotised by the fire ghoul, your wide eyes unmoving from his body, watching as he spread his life source across the body of his instrument. Part of you deeply yearned to reach out and touch him, but your shallow breaths were a giveaway enough for him, a scared little animal anticipating its bitter end – yet the way you would be devoured would wind up being much different than what you could have expected.

You held the guitar pick like it was your lifeline, a thin carmine string tying you to Eddie, tying you into his life, and tangling around his heart. Every single strum, every stomp, every concealed look that was specifically pointed in your direction went straight to your core, a fire igniting a deep-seated need within you, one that you haven’t been able to satisfy yourself for the past year. You yearned to have a taste of him on your tongue much like he yearned to hear your moans reach his ears, his and only his. In that moment you realised that that man would bleed for you, and he had in fact made himself bleed for you. There was something about that realisation that made your stomach churn, heat steadily pooling into your cunt, a new desire awakening. You couldn’t help but stare, your tongue coming out to meet your bottom lip, swiping across it slowly before you sucked your lip between your teeth. You’d be lying if you said that seeing a man shed blood over you didn’t turn you on. It wasn’t an idea you had entertained previously but suddenly there was nothing that would be able to match such a romantic yet tragic gesture.

Your breath caught at how carelessly he acted, part of you dying to take care of the wound, your brain and heart both finding common ground for once – you wanted to take care of him, to mend the bloody catastrophe that he pushed past its limit. Lucifer in hell, how you wanted to drop down in front of him and dote on him by sucking his long fingers into your mouth and tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood. You wanted to lap your tongue over his wound and get a good taste of him before dropping down to – No! You stopped yourself mid-thought, your face burning hotter than the flames of hell. You stopped yourself dead in your tracks, a deep shame burning into the pit of your stomach as it slowly set your desire ablaze. Why was such a grotesque and hazardous show of emotions adding fuel to the low burning flame, kindling for the fire that was just about to snuff out? Why was it that the man turned your insides liquid? You swallowed down a lump in your throat, were you that easy?

Your mind and heart were fighting against you, and it seemed your body was slowly betraying you as well, your anger slowly unravelling to leave nothing but your vulnerability in the wake. In desperation, you tried to hold onto the anger and hurt, but with every single song and dance, your cold heart softened, the ice that encased it slowly melting away due to the fire ghoul’s heat. You bit your cheeks softly, hollowing them unintentionally, and satanus, did your ghoul notice, throwing his head back in a groan, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. He shot you a look through his tinted goggles, raising his guitar slightly, flashing the crowd the YOUSUCK sticker that coated the back of his pristine instrument, but if his pointed look towards you was any indication of what was going on, your eyes trailed down his body and met with- oh.

It had only taken a split second for you to register what was going on before he pointed at you directly, nodding his head in confirmation. You weren’t imagining anything, and it wasn’t like he was allowing you the opportunity to leave your mind to wander. Within the same instant, he lowered his guitar back down before continuing on with his performance, always coming back to you, rutting his hips into his guitar - at one point he sauntered to their bassist, Rain, playing his solo as he leaned into the taller ghoul, head perching on his shoulder softly as he pressed his hips forward, his movements barely noticeable to the average onlooker, but you knew by the way his chest heaved that he just needed a hair more friction than he was able to publicly give himself. An ounce of relief that only you could provide him with but you were none the wiser. You wanted desperately to cling to this idea that you were just a lay, it would have been easier to hate him, easier to deal with the pang of hurt that stung your heart to this day if it so happened that you meant nothing to him.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, but maybe it was one that would sew your heart back up in a sort of Frankenstein way, and maybe, just maybe it was what you needed. Maybe this sort of haphazard way to mend your heart was not the perfect bandage or the cleanest set of stitches, but there was an attempt, an attempt so filled with love and desperation that no surgical precision could mend it in such a gentle and delicate way. It wasn’t a cold and callus, unfeeling surgery, no, it was warm, and tender, and it had just as much power to rebuild you as it did to destroy you.

As the show drew to a close, your heart found itself in your throat, your fears manifesting themselves in your chest, a nausea coming over you in waves. Would your ghoul come find you and tell you off? Would he leave you without closure? Or would he confess his feelings? You felt like there was very little room for you to breathe. Between the heavy tension that drew you to Eddie and the knowledge that he was a busy rockstar; you were like magnets resisting a painful pull. On one hand, you tried to tear yourself away, knowing the hurt and pain it would cause if you both violently snapped against each other, on the other, you wanted to slowly give in to the pull, succumbing to the desire you both held for one another. You found yourself suffocating in a sea of desire and anxiety, a concoction that was locked in a dangerous tango. You didn’t know whether you were breaking your own heart or if he was, if you were overreacting or if this was reasonable.

Soon enough the lead singer announced the last song, two ghouls coming up smoothly beside Eddie, bursting into song before letting out a massive stomp as the pyrotechnics set off, the unison creating an explosive echo through the concert hall. You watched intently, your eyes starting to well with tears upon realising that this might just be the last time you’d see your ghoul. You couldn’t stand that thought, and though your core burned with a desperate need for him, your heart yearned for his loving touch, but your mind was on fire, screaming at you to get away. You figured that if this kept up, your heart would be left in more morsels than you had come with it in, your ghoul having ground it into a fine powder.

You excused yourself to anyone in your vicinity as you tried to dash off, and unluckily for you, the fire ghoul quickly noticed, making a show of himself as he sauntered to a roadie, whispering something incoherent to him. The shorter nodded before darting behind the heavy stage curtain, disappearing from view.

You dared rush off to the bathroom as they finished off the evening, the last few notes ringing out as your feet connected with the velour-coated stairs that would wind their way up to the second-floor washroom. The loud screeching of feedback from the fire ghoul’s guitar resonated through the concert hall as you burst through the washroom door, the thick metal isolating the sound so that it was barely audible. You couldn’t be there anymore, it was too much all at once. It was too much to handle, too much to take in. Your head was screaming to get away while your heart was begging you to stay but you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t allow yourself to get swallowed up by those big doe eyes of his. Maybe the ghoul would have an explanation, maybe he’d try to charm you into bed with him – and the worst part was that it would work.

There was a primordial need that burned through you, visions of the poor dishevelled man rutting into this guitar the same way he rut into you a year ago burned into your retinas. You quickly turned the nearest faucet on, trying desperately to splash some cold water into your face, something to soothe the heat that permeated your body. It was a heat that crept up your neck and seared itself into the apples of your cheeks.

“FUCK!” You cried, hands clutching the porcelain sink so tight that you thought you’d surely break the ceramic. Your cry was met with the creak of the heavy door you had come through just moments ago, the hinges sobbing with the need to be oiled up - neglected - just like you had been. You wanted to tell the person to go away but you thought better of it until you heard the lock click into place, a fear seizing your poor frantic heart, the alarming noise ripping through your ears. It called to you so much that you turned on your heel only to be met with the very ghoul you were desperate to avoid. All fear drained away, your throat bobbing as you swallowed down whatever saliva was left in your mouth, his presence causing it to completely run dry.

“Did you really fucking think I was going to let you leave like that, my pet?” His muffled voice hissed through his mask. Oh. There was a certain amount of anger clinging to it, an anger to mask the hurt that pricked at his poor heart. His shoulders seemed tense, the embers behind his goggles glowing a faint red, a fire in his soul, ready to set everything in his way ablaze. He swore there and then that if anyone were to get in the way of you, he would ensure that they rued their very existence. He stalked towards you, the heels of his boots clacking against the tiled floor, eyes transfixed on your very figure. He watched as you rested your hands on the sink, your nerves eating you alive. You tried to size Eddie up but you found yourself failing, the disadvantage lying in being unable to see his eyes. You weren’t able to read him, but he was able to read you, calculate every move, and execute it near perfectly had he wanted to. You were in his territory and he would take advantage of it as much as he could - while he knew the terrain, you had made the fatal move of not studying the playing field as diligently he had and now you were caught.

You refused to answer, chest heaving, eyes darting from side to side as you tried to find an escape, but it was too late, he closed the distance between the two of you, his warm hand gripping your chin tightly, tilting your head to look at him as he came to stand toe to toe with you.

“Answer me, did you fucking think I was about to let you leave like that?” His voice was even and unwavering, a certain lust-filled venom lacing itself between each word, dancing across his sharp tongue.

“Fuck you.” You spat at him, droplets of saliva connecting with his mask as you did, but it only caused him to smirk from under his balaclava. The bastard was smug, you’d hand him that. When he wanted something, he went after it, he fixated on it, and he would claim it. You didn’t understand why his fixation was set on you, the toughest prize, you were just some person he met last tour, just some person he had a good time with once, a conquest. It meant nothing. At least, it was easier to tell yourself that.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He cages you in with his body, his hips pressing flush into yours as his hand slips down your chin and to your neck, his big hand squeezing it gently at first, a small tug pulling you in. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, instinctively succumbing to his action, the desire pooling into your very core. It felt as if molten lava had replaced the very blood in your veins, your head suddenly spinning with an animalistic need. “Bet nobody has fucked you as good as I have, have they pet?”

“You’re fucking full of it.” You growl out at him, trying to tear yourself away and yet you find yourself leaning into his touch - it contrasted greatly with the way his poison words flitted through the air, it was soft, tender, like he didn’t want to hurt you despite the intensity of his actions.

“So you have fucked someone else while I was away.” He hummed, the embers glowing brighter as his eyes fixated upon you. He was like a predator sizing up his next meal, cold and callus calculations filtering through his mind as his hand squeezed your throat just a fraction tighter, eliciting a soft gasp from you, your lips parting. At your lack of answer, his left hand come to your waist as he spins you around, slamming your back into the adjacent wall. You both groaned, bodies instinctively pressing to each other. “So you did, didn’t you?” You watch his eyes narrow before his warm hand slips down your body slowly, his right hand firmly finding home against your throat. “Well then pet, let me show you exactly who this pussy,” his hand reached for your clothed cunt, “belongs to.” Your breath hitched, hips involuntarily bucking into his hand. You didn’t expect your body to betray you so easily, and yet here you were, putty in his hands.

Your pathetic whimper bounced off the cement walls of the washroom, the insulation so poor, but the reverb so sinful. His dark chuckle filled the small room, a small tsk tsk noise flowing out from behind his mask. You couldn’t help it, your heart suddenly stuttered more than you could have anticipated. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Eddie’s touch or the way he paid attention to you. Even if it was only to last one more night, you reconciled that it was one more night you were willing to take. Soft moans slipped past your barred teeth, lips quivering at every little twitch of the musician’s fingers. Slowly, the ghoul let go of your throat, sliding his hand down your chest, squeezing your breast and fondling your nipples through your shirt, eliciting the most pornographic moan he’d heard in a year, and that included the filth that he tried to get himself to watch for even an ounce of relief. He kept sliding them lower and lower before he slowly started dropping down, clothed lips ghosting over your navel, his knees sinking into the cold floor. He kissed down your hips, his hands coming down to your thighs, his slender fingers digging into the fat, his grip hard enough to bruise.

“So impatient, aren’t we, sweetheart?” His laugh was as intoxicating as his teasing and you were left completely speechless at how forward he could be even under the circumstances. “Now, how about we show you exactly who you belong to?” The rhetorical question hung in the air as he pressed chaste kisses down to your pubis, stopping just above where you wanted him most. He toyed with the hem of your plaid wool skirt - and god what that innocent schoolgirl look did for him. The way the need to corrupt you filled his senses was impossible to fight, setting his body ablaze. “Let me show you exactly who this fucking cunt belongs to.” He flips your skirt up, groaning at the sigh, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he does so.

“Fuck…” You pathetically breathe out, moving your hips towards him instinctively but he stops you, his hands shoving you back into the wall, stilling your movements as he pins you in place, exactly where he wants to. You whimper, squirming for friction.

“In due time, but I want to play with my food first.” An animalistic growl leaves his lips, fingers spidering up the meat of your thighs, calloused fingers toying with the hem of your panties. He wasn’t about to allow himself to indulge, not yet, not right away. He needed to know that it was something you wanted and not just something you were being forced into. “Do you remember the safe word?” He asked, earning himself a nod. In response to you, he smacked your thigh gently. “Use your words, pet, or next time I won’t be so fucking kind.” His voice was threatening, commanding you to follow his every whim.

“Y-Yes! Fuck yes, it’s Beezelbub, now for fuck’s sake just-” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence as he shoved your panties aside in a swift motion, tugging them violently down your legs. He groaned at the sight of them, such a pretty little delicate thing adorning you so sinfully - he strained in his uniform, hips involuntarily grinding forward. He desperately wanted the friction, but he was not about to give into such a carnal desire without giving something back to you first.

“Bet you’re already so wet f’me, aren’t you, you slut.” He hissed, gentle kisses placed on the insides of your thighs. His hand came up to his face only to remove the lower half of his balaclava before he dove back in, the plush lips your body desperately yearned for finding purchase on the soft and sensitive skin, his head dipping under your skirt. Your breath hitched at every gentle movement, every tender touch, but the breaking point and the action that caused you to grip the breathing tubes on his helmet was when he buried his nose in your cunt, smelling it before placing a hot kiss to it, a moan ripping itself from the depth of his throat, the cavernous echo just serving to drench you even more. He tentatively licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, heart lurching in his chest, his grip on your thighs tightening before he spidered his fingers up to your heat, teasing and prodding at your folds. You tugged him forward and moaned as he began to finger you, urging him further on. His tongue teased over your clit, licking slow and lazy figure eights across it, flicking his tongue like a snake, on occasion causing strangled gasps to leave your lips.

“Lucifer in hell!” You choked out, something that only made the ghoul dip his fingers into your entrance, setting a slow but brutal pace as he sucked on your clit, unrelenting. He acted like a prisoner on death row eating his last meal and satan, if your pussy was his last meal, he would die a happy soul. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, sweet with a slight bitter tinge, like a decadent dark chocolate melting on his tongue. He moaned into you, pushing his fingers further in, curling them over your spongey walls, beckoning you closer to the precipice as his tongue tended to your clit. Your body felt like the flames of hell themselves were lapping at it, enveloping you in the most sinful heat.

As the ghoul picked up his pace by a fraction, he felt you squirm, hips lifting from the wall. He took this chance to push them back down, the impact of his hand hitting your thigh creating a light sting. It wasn’t a hard smack, but a gentle warning of what was to come if you defied him. You hissed out an incomprehensible response, your head coming into contact with the cement behind you. You felt the man below you smirk against your pussy, his slow pace picking up as he began to abuse the deepest and most sensitive part of you, hitting the bundle of nerves with brutality you hadn’t expected. Immediately you tugged him closer, a chuckle escaping his lips, the vibrations more than welcome against your weeping folds.

There was something to be said about a man starved, and it was certainly in part that there was a certain desperation behind his actions, a certain drive to madness that was so irrevocably pulchritudinous. There was nothing prettier than a man down on his knees, crying out for absolution for his wrongdoings, and there was something incredulously sensual about him doing so in pure unadulterated sin. With that he reached his free hand to squeeze your ass, gently kneading into it with his fingers, moaning into your pussy unabashedly.

“S’fucking perfect f’me.” He muttered, completely losing himself in your heat. The curl of his fingers inside you in combination with his praise had you keening, squeezing around his fingers, a new fire burning through your body as he edged you on. You were left panting, choking on your moans as he worked at you. His touch set you ablaze and you couldn’t help but pulse around his fingers. You heard him moan, this time opting to wrap his lips gently around your clit, sucking over the bud with fervour, his tongue eagerly teasing it from time to time. You threw your head back once again, a high-pitched whine leaving your throat, ripping straight from your chest. You flushed with heat, the uneasy feeling of embarrassment clawing at your neck as Eddie pulled away, and from that, you saw the fire burning behind his eyes ignited with a new flame, one that burned brighter, hotter even, his lips left pink and puffy, used exactly to your liking.

“Eds,” You breathe out, trying to pull him back into your core, “need you.” You felt yourself squeeze against his fingers once again, eliciting a cavernous yet pornographic moan from deep in his throat. It was primal, animalistic, and with your words he dove back in, pounding his fingers into you at an unrelenting pace, abusing your poor sensitive cunt until your legs shook beneath you. You gripped his mask harder, knuckles turning white as you did so, if he kept this up he would bring you over the edge, a side effect of not having had a good lay in at least a year. You felt pathetic coming undone so quickly, unable to put up as much of a fight as you’d hoped for, but maybe your climax would put you in a position of control. Maybe if you coated his tongue in your slick you’d be able to turn this around on him. You desperately wanted him under your thumb, and satan you’d have him if it was the last thing you did.

“Then fucking earn it.” He growled out, this time he trailed his tongue down, allowing it to slip lower and lower. He removed his fingers and you couldn’t help but let out a groan, your walls desperate to keep him buried inside you, however, his long digits were quickly replaced with his tongue, his calloused fingertips working your clit, abusing it at an unrelenting pace. The slight grit from his relentless guitar playing added a layer of pleasure that had you seeing stars as you fucked yourself on his tongue. His grip on your hips tightened as he tried to maintain his composure, his hips slowly snapping forward to the tune of sinful moans, his resolve melting away with each lap at your sopping cunt. You tasted too good to pass up, and god, if Lucifer himself were to choose to strike him down right here right now, he would have no complaints. His last words would be utterly muffled by your pussy as he devoured it.

Your breathing picked up, chest heaving as you rutt into his face, tears starting to brim your lashline, you needed him, you needed the release that only he could grant you, chasing it like a bitch in heat before trying to slow yourself, but it was no use. Eddie was building you up just to bring you crashing down, and oh how the mighty will fall. He abruptly stopped, his movements stilled as you nearly sobbed out in near-pain, practically clawing at his mask as he stilled his movements. You felt him smirk against you, a gentle gust of breath against your slick causing you to shiver and grind into him. Your pupils were completely blown, your bottom lip securely between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself.

“Fuck you.” You hissed out at the ghoul, pain and desire fueling a very dangerous fire in the pit of your stomach. You needed him, you wanted him, and there was nobody to give you enough relief aside from him. The only issue was that you were livid, you were so angry that he lied to you, that he spoke empty words, stringing you along. He was a rockstar and you were, at best, a groupie, or so you thought. Funny, a groupie who doesn’t even like the fucking band. You bit back your bitter emotions as much as you could, a glossy sheen coating your eyes.

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” He retorted, his cocky demeanour peering through his tender gestures, dipping his tongue back through your folds, moaning at your sweet juices. You wanted to cry, your anger building up to a boiling point. You manhandled his mask, ripping him away from your sopping core, your blown pupils meeting his as your chest heaved. You couldn’t see his face but you imagined that it was painted in shock at your brash actions.

“You think you’re in control here?” You spat out at him, you raised your foot and placed it on his shoulder, your black heels digging into bone as you pushed him down. “You think you’re the one with the upper hand?” You seethed, a slight shove making the ghoul lose his balance, sending him toppling onto his back. He braced for the impact with his elbows, pain shooting through them, a gasp leaving his lips as he watched you tower over him. “I think you’re about to be a very fucking good boy, for me.” The growl that left your throat was enough to give heart palpitations to Satan himself, and with a swift move, you too came down to your knees, placing yourself right above his face. The fire ghoul lowered himself onto the tile floor gently, his fingers coming up to the meat of your thighs once again but you did not provide him with much opportunity to get situated as you pressed your core to his nose. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

The only noise that left the poor man was an indistinct moan, your cunt suppressing the sound. He quickly got to work, eating you with a burning need - as if lapping you up was going to bring him closer to the light. His hands tugged on you in desperation, his anger shoved to the back burner as he pleasured you. Your hands found your way to his mask, hand pressing into the hard leather of the helmet as you rode the poor man like your life depended on it. You were using him as you saw fit, using his nose to stimulate your clit while his tongue pushed through your folds, prodding in and out at whatever pace you chose to set. You had him where you wanted him, his nails digging into your skin, surely leaving claw marks for all to see.

The strain in his trousers was insufferable, the lack of stimulation taking its toll on him as he tried to push you closer and closer to climax. It was impossible to tell whether it was something that he now desired for himself, or whether he was putty in your hands. His desire to devour you was in part fueled by his burning need to be inside you once again, and whether you wanted to believe it or not, he hadn’t intended for this to be how you both saw each other the next time, but with his tongue between your folds, the ghoul couldn’t complain. He spidered his right hand up to your cunt, slipping his fingers back inside you, providing extra stimulation - you couldn’t complain about it, you wouldn’t, not with the way he caused you to throw your head back, grinding over his face with a whorish desperation. If he had any indication that he picked up on your sudden need he certainly showed it by sinking his digits further into you, crooking them against your spongy walls. There wouldn’t be a time where you complained about a guitarist's skill, especially not now, not when Eddie picked up his pace, abusing your poor walls until you felt the coil tightening to an unbearable point. If he kept this up, you were sure to snap without much more effort from the man below you.

He viciously pumped his fingers into you, finally releasing his mouth from your entrance, licking a stripe up to your clit. For half a second you had the right mind to try to push his head back but his mouth on your clit had you bucking your hips harder against his face, a load moan ripping from your throat, your chest rumbling as it did. Your thighs clenched around the ghoul’s head and you panted, tears pricking your eyes as he drew your first climax out of you. He coaxed it, beckoning it to wash over his chin, his greedy desire for you consuming him like the flames of hell certain would when he croaks, the worst part was that you let yourself go, grinding desperately over his face, his fingers working you open.

His actions were slowed, brought to a steady pace and you came down from your first climax, walls squeezing around his fingers and he pumped you. He allowed you the grace to catch your breath before slipping his fingers from you, a delicious keening tumbling from behind his plush lips. Your eyes screwed shut as you tried to compose yourself, but for the man below you, there wasn’t a prettier sight – you were completely undone on his tongue, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat across your forehead.

“Thassit, my pet, so fucking good f’me.” He groaned, his hips instinctively rolling into thin air, desperation straining his voice as he spoke. His hands made their way to your waist, careful so that his slick soaked fingers didn’t brush against your outfit, as he guided you towards his hips, and you complied. When you dared open your eyes, there was a heavy cloud of lust behind them as they searched the ghoul’s features. Without much hesitation, you grabbed his spent hand and guided it to your lips, a smirk finding itself upon your lips as you stare at your cum mixed with the blood from his careless injury. While you’re studying his fingers, Eddie is memorising your features, the way you feel so good against his cock, the way you eye him like you’d escaped his vicious maw as if he was all bark and no bite. He can’t get enough of you, wanting to soak in every last detail – what he didn’t expect was that detail to be bringing his fingers to your lips, lapping up the bloodied cum with your tongue. Pressing it flat to his digits, you flicked it across and through them before sucking them deep into your mouth, your red lipstick adding a particularly sinful element to the moment.

The tang of iron intertwining with the sweetness was unlike anything you’d had before, a muffled moan leaving your lips as you instinctively rut your hips across the ghoul’s length, hips stuttering as you did so. Eddie couldn’t help but let out the most debaucherous moan that could have graced your ears. It was a moan that you wished you could have recorded and saved for moments alone, to listen to over and over - the most sinful prayer to satan, a dedication to the most pleasurable of deadly sins. If succumbing to lust warranted a trip to hell, you’d be on your knees, ready to be taken.

The taste was enough to spur you on, taking his fingers deeper into your mouth, the cochineal hue of your lips transferring to his interdigits, painting them in the most blasphemous shade of red. Eddie’s mouth watered at the sight, he couldn’t help himself and swiftly he ripped his hand from your grasp and brought it to your throat, squeezing it, the pressure from his thumb and ring fingers causing the strangled gasp you let out to be just about the deepest breath you were able to take. His quick actions shocked you, a whine emitting from your throat as you rocked over his lower half, shallow breaths huffing out your nose as you tried to regain control.

“Shouldn’t have defied me, sweetheart.” He growled, managing to sit himself up. He caged you in, pulling your face towards his only to have your lips meet in a clash of animalistic hunger. You tasted yourself on his lips and likewise, he tasted his blood on your tongue. Your mewls provided ample opportunity for his tongue to snake its way into your mouth, dancing in tandem with yours, taking the lead in the evocative dance you both set. “Now,” his free hand came to your ass and tugged you further over his clothed cock, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to fuck the word friend out of you, you were already so good my pet, cumming on my face like that. My little slut.” The pure animalistic snarl that left his lips as they curled was enough to have heat pooling in your core, you couldn’t help but swallow hard, breathing shallow and rapid as you nodded. With a smirk, he smashed his lips back against yours, all teeth, tongue, and need. There wasn’t a way to get you close enough it seemed.

“You fucking wish.” You managed to hiss out between harsh kisses, but all venom was drained from your voice, replaced with a need and desire. Part of you wanted that, you wanted to be his, you wanted for him to be serious, and you would devote yourself to him, down on your knees praying to your false idol. You didn’t just want to be his, you wanted him to be yours in return, but was that even a possibility for him? Was he even willing to dedicate himself to you in the same way that you needed?

“So what are you then?” He taunted, rolling his hips into your harder, his grip around your neck tightening. If the idea was to make you see stars one last time before plunging you into the cavernous darkness and pure carnal pleasure, he was getting there. “You’re just my friend?” The word is accentuated with a brutally slow drag of his clothed dick across your pussy. “A groupie?” And again, this time a whimper leaves you. “No, my pet, you’re mine.” Your breath hitched before you started panting, rutting against his cock like a bitch in heat. You wanted nothing more than to tear his clothes off and for him to shut the everloving fuck up.

“‘M not yours.” You try to hiss out but a gasp leaves you as Eddie’s hand comes down on your ass, the sting that came shortly after being a welcome feeling. He took a moment to remove his hand from your neck, trailing it down to your chest, smearing blood down your white shirt, before giving your tit a squeeze in his calloused hand. He massaged it, occasionally pinching your nipple through the fabric, ensuring to leave his bloodied handprint across your chest.. Reacting to his touch, you keened, leaning into his groping, desperate for him to touch you more. The action didn’t go unnoticed and before you knew it the fire ghoul had occupied himself, simultaneously ripping the neckline of your shirt down and moving the cup of your bra out of the way so that he could latch onto the pebbled bud. A flick of his tongue had you letting out a strangled moan as your head came to rest on his shoulder. If there was anything to say about the man, it was that he was unrelenting – when he had his eyes on something and he wanted it, he made it his mission to get it.

“No? What are you?” He mumbled around your nipple before nipping at it, gently tugging it. A cold shiver travelled down your spine, your skin erupting in gooseflesh as he taunted you so.

“I- I-” You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, your lips connecting with his neck, a hunger taking over you as you bit over his jugular, he moaned as he pulled away, a loud smack resonating through the poorly isolated room, yet you continued. You wanted to bruise him the same way he bruised your ego, leave marks that hurt, that he’d have to see every time he looked in the mirror.

“Answer me.” He snarled, but half of it broke into a whinier sound, his act faltering as you worked away at leaving a blood-coloured blossom across his neck. Your hands found his waistcoat and you tugged him forward, his head tipping back in an obscene moan. He allowed himself to let go for a moment, giving you the opportune chance to bite down into his neck hard. You wanted to make him bleed, you wanted another taste of him and you couldn’t help yourself but before you could complete your task, he pushed you away. “What did I say?” His stern tone pierced through the air. You finally dared look over his face, the dark goggles obstructing his eyes, the ember glow from behind the dark lenses hiding any emotion he held. “What. Are. You.” He accentuated each word, the hiss of his question came out crazed, a desperation well hidden behind it.

“Fuck, Eds, yours. Is that what you want to hear?” You were so frustrated at this point, and you couldn’t imagine that he wasn’t, you wanted to sob, to scream at him to fuck you, to fuck you and forget about you - you had too much pride to hold onto, too much you wanted to leave unsaid - maybe you could heal your heart. “You want to hear me say I’m yours just for the night? Want me to be your little whore for tonight?” Your anger bubbled over as you rocked your hips against his, your eyes boring into his own, your lipstick smudged halfway across your face exactly as he liked it.

“You don’t get to call me that right now, my pet, no, you need to earn it.” His voice reached your ears in such a way that it struck a slight fear into you, but not a fear of him, or his punishments per se. You couldn’t pinpoint it, yet it was a fear that aroused you. “Tonight, you call me by my stage name until I tell you otherwise, darling. You need to earn the right to carry my name in your mouth.” You groaned before biting back a reply.

“And what if I want your dick in it instead?” At this, the man bit back a dark chuckle, his chin tilting downwards and you could tell he was eyeing you as if he was about to devour you whole. The sinister tone to his laugh should have put you off and yet it left you craving him even more than you had been previously, something you didn’t even believe possible, yet here you were. One climax clearly wasn’t enough to satiate the burning need that kindled in the pit of your core, the embers having reignited with a few simple words.

“Then I will fuck the brat out of it, leave you speechless, how about that?” The threat felt very real, and yet you found yourself craving it, but he didn’t give you the chance to debate that, no, instead he grabbed a hold of you and flipped you so that he was fully on top, caging your body with his own, yet he still ensured that your back didn’t hit the tile floor, his true nature barely seeping through the cracks. Within an instant though, it was gone, his mouth latching onto your neck as you threw your head back in ecstasy. It was as if he’d mapped out your erogenous zones as if ghosts of bruises past were guiding him across the expanse of the surface. He sunk his teeth back into the crook of your neck, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin, tugging you between his teeth before releasing you only to latch onto an even more sensitive area on your neck. He wanted to memorise every little mole, every marking, every single little detail about you, he needed to know.

His hips slowly rolled into yours with precision, the rough zipper of his trousers providing just enough friction on your clit. You gasped out his name, which earned you a solid bite, his canines on a mission to make you bleed, not that you’d complain. Your legs wrapped around his slender hips, dragging him across the area you needed him in most, a small reminder to him that you were just as impatient if he was, if not more.

“What did I say?” He growled, another tug at the thin skin of your jugular before he trailed his lips up your neck, behind your ear, before coming to find your earlobe. He snagged it between his teeth and tugged, causing your back to arch off the floor. “You will earn the right to that name, my pet. I am Sodo to you. I am your ghoul, your demon, the devil you must repent to, and you, my darling, are my filthy fucking sinner.” He recited it like a promise, a promise to himself, to you, and to Satan himself most likely.

“Y-Yours, yours, Sodo.” You relented, finally caving to his demands, finally admitting to the man that you were indeed his, even if just for the night. “P-please just, make me yours.” You couldn’t stand it, you needed your fill – a year of frustration building up more and more until you were practically tearing his waistcoat off his body, needing him close. You wanted to feel his heat, feel the way his body slotted against yours once again. He let out a small curse into your neck before bringing his teeth down on your skin, sucking over it like a vampire, the harsh hold threatening to break your skin. The man was completely unrelenting in his mission to make you bleed, you’d already had a taste of his blood during this tumble, and now he wanted yours. He missed the taste of it on his tongue - the iron tang and the way you looked completely dishevelled beneath him, the red liquid smeared across your jaw, collarbones, and throat. His dick throbbed in response to his bloodthirsty thoughts, the need for you to be even closer, for your warm walls to wrap him up as they massaged him closer to his petite mort.

“Not here, not in the bathroom.” He choked out, his eyes screwing shut from behind the mask as he tried to hold himself back. “Greenroom.” He breathed out, making absolutely no effort to move his body off of you. “You might be filthy slut, but you’re still my filthy slut, and I’m going to fuck you somewhere you deserve to be fucked - somewhere I can wreck you.” He continued his way up your jaw, tracing the red blossoms over your neck, nipping at the thin skin of your jawline as he went. He grabbed your bottom lip swiftly between his teeth, nibbling it before tugging on it while he bit down hard. The permanent scar he’d left down the middle reopened to allow blood to pool into his mouth. If he weren’t so controlled he would have painted the inside of his underwear white in his spend, but he stuttered his hips, stopping himself just in time. “I’m going to take you to the greenroom,” Eddie hissed out, “and I’ll fuck you so hard that I'll have you screaming my name so loud you wake the dead.” His composure crumbled like an old fresco, the natural elements wearing it down.

You couldn’t object, but you couldn’t let go either, and so in a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue, you both got up, clawing at each other as you did so, and both stumbled backwards towards the bathroom door. Your back hit it first, Sodo’s hand leaving your figure temporarily and he unlatched the deadbolt with a loud click, one that barely registered as you tried to get him to bleed for you, your lips sucking his bottom lip in before you were allowed the opportunity to nip at it, your teeth cutting just deep enough for pearls of rose colour liquid surfaced. You let out a moan over his plush lips, the vibration causing the man to press his hips into yours, pinning you to the door harder than he had intended to, earring a whimper in response.

“You can’t kiss me like that, my pet.” He heaved, mask coming to meet your forehead as he panted. “You’re gonna make me see the light, s’too much. I’m bathed in sin.” He noted gruffly as he got a taste of your mingling blood.

“Yeah well,” you retorted, voice coming out breathier than you had intended, “when you kiss me it makes me wanna die.” And in an instant his hands shot to your face, cupping your soft cheeks in his rough hands, the contrast being enough to push you to grab the doorknob, too eager to rip his clothes off the second you were in a cleaner environment. He viciously kissed you, lips moving in synchronicity, blood and saliva mixing in their own tango, the taste of nicotine and a hint of wintergreen melding into the mix. It was so like him, and yet you couldn’t get enough - the way the iron overpowered the tobacco was perfect, a violent storm brewing on your tongues, leaving chaos in the wake.

You both heaved each other from one wall to the next, earning growls and hisses from one another as both your backs were brutalised by the concrete walls, impatience running like a fever between you both. Had you been paying less attention, you wouldn’t have noticed when your ghoul ripped open a familiar door, practically shoving you in with the leverage of his legs and upper body. He spun you against the door as he shut it, locking it in place as your spine made an impact with the wooden door, a warm thump resonating through the room.

“Satanus,” the ghoul breathed over your kiss-bitten lips, the split down the middle of your bottom lip captivating him, your blood hypnotising him, drawing him further and further in, “you keep this up and I might have to take you to hell with me.” His fingers trailed from your face down to your neck, his left hand remaining in the very crook of it while his right hand brushed over the curves of your body, fingers dancing to a most dangerous tune – the tune of the devil’s most fiery tango.

“Sodo, please.” You babbled, the man not having even freed his cock from his strained trousers. You made quick work of trailing your fingers down his torso, slowly undoing the buttons on his waistcoat before landing on his belt buckle. In one fell swoop you undid the clasp and ripped the belt through its loops, tossing it onto a familiar couch behind you. You were desperate for him, and judging by the way he was thrusting into your touch. “Please, I need you.” You whined, and it was enough for something inside him to snap. He forcibly spun you around, shoving your face into the door as his hand came up to your hair. He tugged your head to the side, exposing the right side of your neck.

“Think I should mark this side up to, yeah? Make sure you know damn fucking well that you’re mine.” He brusquely hissed into your ear – he wanted you to know that this was a threat and he intended to go through with it. “Wanna tell me who you belong to?” His lips softly brushed over the unblemished skin, so pretty, so clean, so mouthwatering. Like an animal, he inhaled your perfume before pressing his tongue flat to your shoulder, licking up to your ear before starting on his promise. You moaned at his every touch, at the way he manhandled you and contorted you, chasing his own desires. “Hmm, why don’t you tell me, pet?” The soft tug at your roots had you seeing stars, you were rendered incapable of nearly all but letting out soft moans.

“I’m yours, I- fuck- I’m yours, please, I need you.” You whined out, your voice hardly above a whisper. You were so consumed by pleasure that if the ghoul were to have told you he was an incubus meant to come steal you away for a life of unadulterated sin and carnal pleasure, you would have dumbly agreed.

The ghoul quickly unzipped his trousers, undoing the button in an equally swift motion before dropping them to the floor, his boxers quickly following suit. For the first time that night, you had the pleasure of feeling the soft skin of his cock brush against your puffy lips. His body slotted perfectly to yours, his chest pressed to your back as he lifted your skirt, his lips pressing soft kisses over the most sensitive parts of your neck, causing you to whimper in response. With a swift motion, he pushed your panties completely from your legs and as soon as his hard cock dipped even a fraction between your lips, you both groaned in unison, your forehead smacking against the door. Sodo took this opportunity to pull your hips back into his, his hand coming over your ass with a loud smack.

“Lucifer in hell, yes, yes you are. All mine, aren’t you?” He grabbed the meat of your ass, digging his nails into the flesh as he bit down hard on your neck, his sharp canines piercing your skin. He sucked on the puncture wound, pulling more of your life source from you, draining you just enough to have it coat his teeth in a scarlet film – your blood was tainted in the sweetness of your sins, and the ghoul couldn’t get enough. He gave your ass one last squeeze before he brought his hand to the site of the wound, allowing the liquid to pool on his fingers. The sweet metallic smell infiltrated both yours and his nostrils but before you knew it, it had faded. Confusion on your part was soon replaced with a rush of heat straight to your core, your insides melting under the volcanic ardour as you realised that he had grabbed his cock, languidly stroking it, smearing your life source across it before dipping it through your soaked folds, painting them his favourite colour. He prodded at your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in, but it was enough to have you pushing back onto him with greed. A small warning tug to your hair came but all you could do was let a wonton moan escape from deep within, one which in turn had the musician sinking into you to the hilt. You were both a half second from falling apart from each other, both desperate to chase your releases.

“Yours.” You choked out, practically sobbing as tears began to prick your eyes, the stretch of his member practically splitting you in half. You had forgotten how good he made you feel, how tight you squeezed around him, how adept he was at nailing that spongey spot deep within you, you had even nearly forgotten the malediction and yet here you were, begging him for consummated bliss. Slowly he pulled out from you only to sink back in, his hips rolling into you gently, slowly, the intention of getting you re-accustomed was there, but both of you needed more.

“Say it again.” He commanded as he thrust back into you, the movement causing the door to rattle. “My little whore, tell me you’re mine, say it again. Need to hear you, fuck, need to hear you.” He babbled, his pace picking up as he vocalised his need for you.

“F-fa-fuck.” You corrected yourself. “Yours, yours, fuck, babe, yours, shit, satan knows I’m yours.” You cried out, tears spilling over your cheeks, ruining your makeup as he abused your weeping hole. You kept chanting that you were his until you couldn’t breathe anymore, an incarnation of the utterly unforgivable sin, oh how Amodeus would be proud. With every whimper you fluttered against his cock, his groans being evidence enough that he felt each involuntary spasm.

“Thassit, you’re mine, only mine. In body and blood, my pet.” He picked up his pace, the steady rhythm of the clacking door enough to let just about any passerby know what was going down in the green room. He fucked into you like an animal in heat, unable to control himself any longer, teeth embedding themselves into your neck, spilling precious blood, as one hand moved to your hips, steadying them as he tugged them further back, angling you so that he could fuck his seed deeper into you. His other hand snaked around your waist to tease your clit – he wanted you to come undone on his blood-soaked cock, to leave your legs shaking, hells, he wanted his name ripped from your throat until your voice was completely raw and fucked out. There wasn’t a single aspect of him telling him to stop, and he wouldn’t, not when your moans were so lewd that they would make angels fall from heaven. He wanted to consecrate your body after he was done, lap up both of your juices with his tongue, and let the taste of you both and the metallic liquid mix together in the most unholy of ways.

“More, please, please, anything you want, just fuck please, S-Sodo.” The fucked into you at a brutal pace, sloppy figure eights drawn over your clit as he tried desperately to have you come undone before him. “Please, I need you, I need you to fill me up, I need to be yours, make me yours.” You sobbed out, salty tears flowing down your face, slipping down your neck and leaving streaks through the drying blood. Eddie moaned at the sudden addition to his favourite flavour profile, the salty tang adding to the already overwhelming flavour. It had taken everything not to let go there and then, to not paint your walls with his unholy being. He wanted to devour you.

“You’ve been s’fuckin’ good f’me, so good.” He nudged his nose into your jawline, picking up the pace on your clit, his callouses rough against it, adding to the pleasure by means of friction. It was just what you needed and at just the right moment too, enough to bring you to the edge, pushing you back into him. The sudden action caused him to stutter his hips deeper into you, your cunt fully sucking him it. It was impossible to hold out very much longer. “Fuck, sweetheart, gonna make me cum.”

“Sodo, please!” You sobbed out, overwhelmed by all the sensations that came at you from all directions. He wasn’t taking his time, no, there was no use, he wanted you to know how passionate he was about you, how much his body craved you, and the sheer desperation that he held for you. You’d ruined him, and you’d ruined everyone else for him as well. It was you, it was always you, the way your bodies worked in tandem, both adding fuel to each other’s fire, the way you both instinctively mapped each other out, it was in perfect sin.

“Fuck that, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned the right to my name, and I want you to scream it.” He growled out into your neck. “Who’s your master? Who’s the devil you worship on your knees?” With a few final flicks to your clit, the elastic tension that build inside you frayed and snapped violently.

“You, Eddie, fuck!” You screamed, vocal cords surely completely raw and spent just like the rest of your body. Your slick had completely soaked his cock, once again spraying his legs in the sinful way you had last year. That was all it took for him to come completely undone as well, the final slam of his hips into yours, and the loud bang of the wooden door against its frame had him filling you to the brim with his seed. He couldn’t hold himself back from his loud moan and so in an attempt to stifle it, he buried his masked face into your bloodied neck, letting his tongue trace all the wounds and blossoms he left across it.

With both your chests heaving, you stilled your movements, both too sensitive and spent to move an inch further. Eddie didn’t want to move in this moment, he didn’t want to pull out of you, but he selfishly wanted a taste of your mingling fluids. His feet stayed firmly planted, slotted around yours, but he moved his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into him tenderly. Soft kisses were placed over your neck, trying to ensure that you felt safe and unharmed.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He whispered into your neck, bowing his head over your shoulder, the fatigue slowly hitting you. You pushed out slightly, his cock slipping out of you, cum beginning to drip down your legs slowly. You both let out your individual groans in response, but neither of you made a move to act on it. Turning around to face him, finally giving him a moment to take you in, but not giving him a moment to let you go, you once again closed the distance, chest to chest with him. The moment his eyes landed on your face, his heart yearned to be close to you in ways he never has been. A mix of both yours and his blood smeared across your chin, lipstick smudged across your cheek, halfway removed, some of it on Eddie’s fingers, some of it on your face, and some most likely to have ended up in each other’s mouths. He pulled you gently to the couch, reaching to pull his pants up and button them at the very least. He sat you down and sunk to his knees before you, a tenderness behind his actions. He parted your knees, taking his index and middle finger to push the cum back into you, bringing his face up to your cunt and licking away any excess, a strained moan releasing itself from the back of his throat. “Want to make sure it sticks.” The ghoul whispers to you softly before adding a quick, “Asmodeus would be proud.” He kisses the inside of your thigh before sitting back on his knees and looking up at you, his hands never leaving your body as you watch him intently. The predator had gotten ahold of his prey, had devoured them, and yet had left them utterly whole all the same.

“Eddie.” You whispered, voice breaking now that the high was crumbling away, like a castle poorly built, the walls would come crashing down with just the most unfortunate of phenomena, the most unlikely undoing and every last stone brick would topple. Like black feathers fluttering down as Lucifer fell from the pinnacle, this was your moment to fall, and while you expected to fall into a dark pit, what you didn’t expect was that there would be a sinner, equally as guilty, just waiting to catch you.

“I meant it.” He whispered back. “I meant it when I said I wished you were there.” The small crack in his otherwise steady voice gave him away – this was a true moment of vulnerability for him. “I gave you my number for a reason, and I’m sorry if what we just did was too much, I didn’t mean to push you, but,” he placed a tender kiss on your knee, hand coming up to brush his thumb across it, “I meant it, darling. I want you to be mine if you’ll have me.” Your heart just about broke as you listened to his confession.

“Eddie, the reason I didn’t reply, it- it’s embarrassing.” You looked away, tears burning your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it but if he was being honest, it was your turn to be honest as well. “I wanted to, but I was afraid I would come across too…too forced, too needy, and I- what was I supposed to think?”

“That I want you there,” He interrupted, “that I need you there.” His confession breathed a new life into you and you slowly brought your hands to his mask, unable to properly think as you eyed him. The mask was doing too many things to you while he was between your legs like this, and while you were still hot and bothered, you wanted a conversation before you were to jump his bones again. You slowly peeled it away, allowing his hair to tumble loose, his brown doe eyes meeting yours for the first time that evening. His bloodied lips and chin were a sight to see, your lipstick having left a trail down his neck leading to dark blooming rose blossoms, the occasional bright carnation bursting across his neck. His neck was a warzone, and you’d have it no other way. He took your hand in his, gently placing his mask beside you, exposed and vulnerable for the first time in the past year.

“Tell me you meant it.” Your voice broke, a tear streaming down your cheek as you observed the man below you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole. Your heart wouldn’t have been able to take it if he wasn’t being honest. He had already broken it once, albeit unintentionally, and you didn’t think that you’d have been able to survive his outright rejection. You held your heart out to him in your hands, bruised, bloodied, and beating for him.

“I meant every word, sweetheart. I want you to be mine, in every sense of the word. I- I missed you. You were never just a fuck to me, you know that, don’t you?” He whispered, aspects of the wounded boy he once was poking through his confident nature. “I didn’t mean to make it seem disingenuous, I didn’t text you that night just to get my dick wet, I said I wanted you there because I wanted you there.”.

“But did you?” You focused in, eyebrows knitting together in prehemptive discomfort, searching for an answer that would serve nothing but hurt you. “Get your dick wet, I mean. I’m sure there would have been plenty of willing participants that night-”

“No, I didn’t, but also not the night before, or the one before that, not even a day since then – unless you want to count using lube on my right hand as getting my dick wet.” He interrupted you tenderly, his hands unable to keep themselves from you. “Sweetheart, from the night I met you it’s only been you. It’s always only been you.” He admitted, your damned heart swelling as he confessed to you. “I want you to be mine so that we can live freely, together, in sin. I want you to be mine so that I can have and hold you, and love you. I want to wake up to you because if I don’t, my heart won’t be able to take it. I’ll be honest, I want you for myself. I’m selfish, I’m jealous, and I can’t stand the idea of someone else keeping you warm at night.”

As much as your heart shouldn’t have fluttered, it did, and you took his rough hand in yours, bringing it in for a tenderhearted kiss, your lips softly brushing over his fingertips, paying particular attention to his wounded pinky as you ensured that your most delicate touch be reserved for it. A smile ghosted across his lips, your affection causing his heart to pick up in pace, beating to the tune of whatever song you chose to set. It wasn’t a sensation he was particularly used to, always having been comfortable being alone.

“You mean that?” You pry further, earning an assiduous nod from the man. “Okay.” Your face heats as you scavenge his face for any ounce of a lie, calling forth any doubts to make themselves known. “I have to admit I, I got insecure. I don’t understand why you’d want me of all people. I was bitchy, I talked back, I didn’t even enjoy the set!” You softly cried out – you weren’t sure if you were trying to dissuade him or to get him to spill his guts to you.

“Hey!” Eddie sternly warned, earning you a small tap on the cheek for your rudeness, a chuckle escaping him shortly after in jest. “Did you really not like the set, not even a little?” He pried into your false confession, hoping that one day he might have you on your knees, confessing all your blasphemous lies to him from below. Yet no matter how unholy you might end up being, blasphemous wouldn’t even cover the way you both felt about each other. The sheer adoration and desire that pooled in your eyes while you sized each other up was enough to make Lucifer blush, the flames of hell having nothing on the heat that permeated between you both. It was nothing to dismiss.

“Well, there was this one part of the show I quite enjoyed. I don’t know, this guitarist who seemed to have it hot for me, that was pretty nice.” You giggled out before adding. “I did enjoy the shows, Eds, I didn’t think I would but I did. And it helps that you have an exceptional talent. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, or your hands.” You grin, a tender kiss ghosting over Eddie’s callouses, your ruined lipstick leaving a light rosey dusting across them.

“I think the show last year was my favourite, I mean, barring this one,” he admit bashfully, a playful glint in his eyes. “But I swear if you ever flirt with Phantom like that again…” He warned, scooting closer to you, knees bumping the couch with a thump. You smiled at his possessiveness and shook your head, heart swelling as your cheeks heated. You suddenly felt awfully bashful in comparison to mere moments ago.

“I only did that because I wanted to be over you. I didn’t want to admit to myself that you still had a hold on me, especially if you were getting under someone else. I just, I thought that maybe I was nothing but the old reliable fuck in the city, you know? I wouldn’t have slept with Phantom or anything like that, not when I can’t get you off my mind.” You finally admit to him, your feelings slowly exposing themselves more and more to the musician before you. You watched as a smile spread across his lips, his dimples making an appearance for the first time that night, and god what you’d give to kiss him then and there. “I need to know something though,” you start, looking over his features for any indication of deceit, “If I’m yours, I want you to be mine in the most selfish of ways as well, I don’t want to have any doubts that I can be the one to hold you, to love you, to pray to you, worship you on my knees, likewise I want you to be on your knees in worship of me.” The sincerity in your voice invited a ribbon of hurt to intermingle, threading itself through the passion in your voice. “I want us to live in sin until unholy matrimony becomes the option, and then it’s what I want. I don’t want to share you, Eds.”

“And you won’t, I can promise you that. You have my most wicked heart in your hands, and my blood in your mouth, the same as I do yours. It’s me and you, if you’ll have me.” He confirmed, your heart swelling at the answer. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his plush lips, both of you smiling into it so much that your teeth clicked together causing you both to burst into a fit of giggles. If anyone were to walk in on you both it would certainly be a sight to see, all bloodied and bruised, yet the one thing they wouldn’t question would be the way Eddie was sat at his altar, worshipping the connection you had both entangled yourselves in.

a/n: Thank you so much for reading this pure fucking filth. Much worse than the last time, much more sinful, and I'm pretty sure I will actually be sent to the seventh circle of hell once I die, but it's worth it.

tag list: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish @fantasticmacaroni @cryingglightningg @spenciesprincess @skrzydlak @jaquelinewrites @0pallangel

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vintagehellfire · 3 months

Text

Happy Valentines Day 🖤 here’s a reboot of my pure fucking filth part 1.

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway.

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down.

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you. He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours.

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling.

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice.

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window.

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off.

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry.

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”-- letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape.

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you. the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side.

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off.

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door.

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused.

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation.

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you.

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far.

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire.

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself.

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it.

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured.

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip.

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you.

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more.

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp.

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable.

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust.

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible.

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe.

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care.

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone.

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all.

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment.

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles.

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased.

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing.

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet.

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him.

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was.

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more.

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire.

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission.

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down.

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half.

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you.

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform.

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead.

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other.

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you.

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay.

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless.

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.”

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod.

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away.

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs.

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on.

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return. “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

taglist: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish

#eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson x you #sodo ghoul #sodo x reader #sodo!eddie #ghoul!eddie #ghost bc #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc AU #Eddie Munson smut #filth #mask kink #bloodplay #blood trigger warning #blood kink

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