Welcome to my masterlist! This blog is for exploring my media obsessions & emptying the contents of my brain into the void for ye to enjoy.
I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY OF MY WORK BEING REPOSTED OR STOLEN.
All work is 18+ , minors, please do not interact.
Requests are CLOSED, anyone who would like to be on the tag list for future fics, please DM me. Always up for a challenge!
Eddie Munson
I Was Made for Lovin' You - Eddie x reader, 18+. Smut & Fluff.
Aemond Targaryen - House of the Dragon
High Points of New Lows - Aemond x Reader (HOTD Aemond, fluff & hurt/comfort.)
Aemond Headcanons - (Post sex, inspired by @xxnymeriatargaryenxx)
Psycho Killer - Modern Aemond/Dark Aemond x reader (18+)
TLK / Sihtric
Love Me (@urfriendlywriter prompt)
Tell me you feel the same way (@urfriendlywriter prompt)
Know that I'm here, waiting. (Sihtric x Reader)
Our First Christmas (Modern Sihtric x Reader)
How bad is it? (Sihtric x Healer reader)
Even at my worst? (Sihtric x Wife Reader)
Blóm (Post SKMD Sihtric x reader)
A Pleasant Intrusion (Modern Sihtric x Sigtryggr x Reader, PWP, 18+)
A Life Well Lost (Sihtric x Witch/Healer reader, TW: Hanging)
Touch Starved (Sihtric x Reader, Angst & Fluff)
HOTD Edits
TLK Edits
Other Edits
Sorry for caps just wanted to make sure you would see it's a question not a request. Will you ever do more dark Aemond fics
And what is you fav Dark Aemond fic
hey! thanks for the question - I'll be very honest, i'm not at all into kink or the darker side of fanfiction. I like the odd thing here & there, but as a character trait, i'm more into the emotionally repressed & sad boi character tropes! I like writing romance, but not based solely on kink. I like a bit of angst to my writing....
The Dark Aemond was a once off I fear, I just had the idea & a moot loved it so I just HAD to complete it lol. I don't read Dark Aemond fics at all really! I love the misunderstood sappy ones.
TW: Murder, explicit smut, erotophonophilia (deriving sexual excitement from killing), face fucking, manipulation & slight stockholm syndrome..overall he’s not a good dude.
Thanks to the lovely @volklana for collaborating with me on this! And always being such a fantastic support 🖤 and @mintwrit3z for beta reading.
Ao3 Link
Word count: 9.6k
There’s something about the quiet reflection of smoking alone, while a party rages on behind thick concrete walls, that you’d always found incredibly relaxing. Your focus lay solely on your breath and the object balanced delicately between your fingertips. For a few short moments, it seemed like it was just you and the night, in silent communication.
Autumn was your favourite time of year. Crisp, cold nights and fresh days with the sun dipping lower in the sky. You felt the magic of this season hanging heavy in the night air, it was as if it spoke to you. Perhaps it was because you were born in autumn, perhaps it was the mystical nature of the season. The veil between the worlds was thinner, and as Halloween approached, you felt the subtle shift in the elements. Taking a large lungful of smoke, you communed with the darkness, enjoying a brief moment of peace in a night full of frivolity and alcohol fuelled debauchery. But the black night shrouded all manner of sins from your eyes, and in that moment, your only focus was on the glowing embers dying at the tip of your cigarette. You had no idea what horrors lingered in the shadows, what terror lay only inches from your feet.
With your back propped up against the heavy wooden door, music boomed from inside, penetrating the thick oak slab behind your head, yet your mind was caught in a thick fog. The night air was cool, your breath and smoke mingling in the frigidity around you. For once, you weren’t overthinking how you looked or dissecting a conversation you just had. For a brief few minutes, you had true calm descend over you in the form of cold evening air and invigorating substances in smokable form. That is, until the door swung open, sending you hurtling into two veined arms that quickly righted you upright and encapsulated your torso.
“Jesus…shit…you scared me…”
Your asshole of a boyfriend simply laughed, a rumbling display of amusement spurred on by your skittish reaction. He simply nuzzled his chin into your neck, huffing in delight against the delicate skin and inhaling a nosefull of your scent.
“What's the matter, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost..”
“Aem, quit it, you know I'm normally not scared so easily” you scowled, your face painted with fake displeasure. Though you couldn’t help but squeal as his hands wandered your sides, hitting every ticklish spot on their way, breaking your face into unrestrained smiles. Aemond was always incredibly handsy, though as touch starved as you were, you never complained. You loved getting attention from the prettiest man you’d ever encountered, you felt blessed to have his hands roaming your flesh, his good eye trained on you and only you.
You'd only been together a few months, and though the relationship was relatively fresh, you'd fallen…hard.
Aemond was unconventionally attractive. His face, though it looked like it had been carved from pale white marble, was marred by blanched pink scars, which spanned the length of his right cheek. One eye had been damaged in an accident as a kid, so in its place sat a prosthetic painted in the most dazzling shade of sapphire blue. Somehow, it only added to his ethereal nature, never detracting from his unusual beauty. That, alongside an entirely black wardrobe consisting mostly of band shirts and leather, complimented his stunning features. He was a man of great contrast, his look most striking, while his personality was more reserved. He was the most captivating, yet troubled young man you'd ever laid eyes on, and you couldn't help but fall face first into quite an intense entanglement after being introduced.
Aemond was always the most attentive partner, always paying heed to even the smallest details. He noticed things most boyfriends would completely ignore: changes in your expression & body language, slight shifts in your mood, and he always anticipated your needs before you’d even have to ask. When you were around friends, Aemond’s hands stayed connected to your skin at all times, holding your hand, tracing delicate patterns against the back of your palm, or running his spindly fingers along the column of your neck. His eye would always be on you, following you around the room. In private, he was even more impassioned. He loved feeling your body pressed against him, the warmth of your flesh against his own. Instead of psychoanalysing these slightly possessive traits, you leaned into them, rivalling his intensity with your own eccentricities. You were a rather odd, but well balanced match.
On this night, as you stood in the dark, your face only highlighted by the glow of your cigarette, Aemond took advantage of the privacy the shadows afforded and peppered your neck with kisses, pulling you tightly against his chest as you stood resolutely, facing into the black night. You loved how needy he was, but also domineering in equal measure. He never used those sculpted muscles against you, except to further your pleasure, to satisfy you in every way you desired. And now he cuddled you against the cold, sheltered you from the chilled wind blowing through the trees. “It’s such a nice night out…you thirsty baby?” his warm breath vibrated against your skin. He extended a hand out, a chilled beer bottle grasped between several graceful fingers. Even the sight of them made you shiver, though that could’ve also been the bitter breeze swirling around your ankles. “Thank Aem, I'm parched.” You happily snatched the slim bottle from his hands, your fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary against his digits, which earned a smirk, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as the fermented amber liquid ran down your throat. The familiar quenching of thirst came with a promise in itself, you could see the hints of mischief present in his smile.
In return for his generosity, you extended a frigid hand, the end of your cigarette blooming between your dainty fingers. He didn’t even need to say anything; instead, Aemond leaned down, wrapping his plump lips around the thin paper. One sharp inhale and his body filled with an addicting sense of elation, one he sought out in other avenues of life. He found it touching your body, pulling you close, and feeling each curve and valley of your perfectly sculpted frame under his fingertips. He found it in coaxing those pretty mewls from your lips, a soundtrack he’d gladly play on repeat. Yet there was always the pull towards something darker, something a little more… taboo.
As he stood with you in that doorway, the swell of your arse pressed against his quickly growing bulge, Aemond realised that the evidence of his other, perhaps more niche hobbies lay only inches away, neatly tucked around the shadowy corner.
It was only sheer luck that you hadn’t noticed a pool of sticky crimson blood inching across the damp mud, crawling towards your feet - but the night had long descended, the sun had fallen from the sky, replaced by the heavy blackness of an autumn night. The dark provided cover for his lurid savagery, shrouding the horrors from your sight.
With one drag, Aemond filled his lungs with the delicious sting of nicotine. There was only one languid last puff left, one draw of the bitter nectar he so often craved. With a sharp exhale into the night, he dropped the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out, the heel of his shoe squelching the dying embers into the damp earth. Not too far away, the mud was stained red with blood, a pool slowly forming beneath the corpse of a man who dared lay his beady eyes on you across a packed dancefloor earlier that same night.
Warm hands kept you pressed to his chest, pulled close to a heart beating softly beneath leather clad skin. In that darkened doorway with the man of your dreams hanging on your every breath, you found yourself smiling like an idiot. Your eyes were drawn to the curve of Aemond’s mouth as it encased the last of your cigarette. You marvelled at the swell of his cheeks as he billowed smoke into the crisp night air. He always stole your focus, captured your attention simply by existing. You were utterly entranced by his sharp, angular features. Such beauty in a man was rare, but he had both softness and a sharp edge, a traditional pretty boy look laced with danger and the added oddity of his disfigurements. He somehow appeared angelic and devilish in equal measure, an enigma wrapped in the most beautiful packaging. And as he held you against the frigid wind, the darkness encroaching on your romantic moment, you couldn't help but be completely taken with the man you called yours once more.
Yet the wind brought with it a certain anxiety, a subtle foreboding that settled in your mind. As he crushed the remains of your cigarette under his boot and pulled you tightly into his arms, sandwiching your body between his hardened chest and the wall, you utterly fell to his wiles, melting like butter under his smoldering gaze. You couldn't help but see a glint of mischief in that unyielding stare. As if he had a plan you were not yet privy to, but it was wrapped in warmth, in a certain affection that you sought out in every room.
Before long, strong hands dragged you from the chill of night and guided you back into a sea of drunken bodies, each one swaying to their own rhythm, some with the music, some following a tempo of their own design. Each one moved like a branch in the breeze. The intoxicating scent of liquor billowed from inebriated lungs, mouths that messily combined on the dance floor, swapping saliva and the lingering traces of whatever they'd been drinking. Bodies undulated like the tide, a swell of flesh to music, yet even that couldn't distract you from those dazzlingly blue eyes piercing into your flesh as his searing grip held on and led you across the crowded room. The atmosphere numbed any unease in your mind, the sense of frivolity and joy contagious. Even under the haze of alcohol, you felt Aemond’s eyes trained on you as he walked you through a sea of drunkards. Never once did you suspect distrust in your relationship, yet he kept his eyes on you as if you’d disappear into the night.
Instead of allowing you to wander into the haze of debauchery that surrounded you both, Aemond pulled you flush to him, and began to sway along with the other bodies in the pool.
His hands wandered to your hips, feeling in the dark for anywhere he could grasp onto. Moving in tandem with the pulsing rhythm, his hips were pinned against your own, undulating in time with one another. You allowed your mind to go blank, to exist solely in the moment with Aemond, his eyes as hypnotising as the thrumming beat over the speakers, the swell of want between his legs enough to send waves of desire through your body. It was almost intoxicating, surrendering to the music and the feeling of uninhibited bodies around you. It was a certain type of freedom, a complete departure from your regular life.
It took a while for people in their drunken stupor to notice that someone was missing, and inebriated people eventually tottered around the room in search of a man who’d never walk through those doors again. Aemond noticed the commotion, yet remained cool and collected, instead channeling his focus towards you, as your body mirrored the mindless drones around you, swaying in time with the music. He was never one to dance, usually opting to prop up the wall with a beer in hand instead, but he'd follow you anywhere, would do anything you asked. That included grinding on the dancefloor to the dulcet tones of ‘Don't Fear the Reaper’, well lubricated by several shots of whiskey beforehand. You'd have never realised that he also had an ulterior motive for his compliance. Participating in such a charade was a small price to pay, to keep certain secrets hidden.
It took several more minutes for you to notice the panicked faces wandering around the dance floor, yet the gravity of the situation didn't quite register, your mind had been swallowed by lust and alcohol. Lipsticked lips sloppily met Aemond’s warm cheek and you hurriedly dragged him by the hand over to a group where his sister had been standing. The music rumbled on, though you leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Hel, what's going on?”
Helaena shrugged, clearly too lost in her drink to comprehend the situation. “It's really weird, isn't it, to think this fuss is all because of you?”
You loved the bones of her, but she was scattered at the best of times, let alone when she had imbibed on her favourite beverages. Sometimes she simply made no sense and spoke words into the ether without any context at all. “I love you, Hel, but you make no sense sometimes..” you laughed, before returning to Aemond and snuggling into his waiting arms.
Gossip made its way around the room - unfounded words swirling in the mouths of drunk people like the ice clinking in their cups. Young men had been going missing in your neighbourhood the last few months, some turning up disfigured, some slashed and beaten beyond recognition. But all undeniably dead. It was enough to strike fear into the coldest of hearts, and Aemond hadn't left you out of his sight since. You found it strange, some names you’d even recognised, but they weren’t close friends, only people you’d encountered in passing. Friends of friends, faces you'd have recognised in social situations like tonight. A strange sense of foreboding settled in your gut, but the alcohol numbed any immediate reaction to the chatter, dulling your usually acute intuition.
Still, the atmosphere inside had changed, and despite something gnawing at your mind, a subtle warning sign that you pushed to the side, your immediate desires took control, and you pulled Aemond upstairs. To your chagrin, the bedrooms were already occupied, so you headed outside, perhaps the dark would shield you from prying eyes. It seemed Aemond had the same thought, his voice carrying above the din of some cheesy rock song, “Wanna play a game?” and he nodded in the direction of the back door, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
Out in the dark with Aemond, despite the stinging chill in the air, you couldn’t keep your hands off him. The night provided adequate cover for your lewd activities, though at any moment someone could walk through the door and catch you in the act. Somehow, the danger made your boyfriend that much hotter, his perfectly sculpted body that much more irresistible. Only the stars were witnesses to your ravenous appetite, to the dip of your tongue into the warm caverns of Aemond’s mouth, exploring each other as if it were the first time. Those twinkling lights saw every grinding thrust of hips and wandering palm, searching for friction against a willing body.
The heat of his breath stung like frostbite, while the wind nipped at your cheek. Yet you only leaned into his warmth, you soaked up every ounce of affection this beautiful man bestowed upon you. You never imagined feeling so wanted, so seen. Aemond always made you feel like the only woman in his life, the only one he saw. His hands carved a path through skin, warm fingertips frantically grasping at flesh as if you’d soon disappear into the night, vanish like a puff of smoke beneath frenzied fingers.
He was always passionate, desperate to have you close, but in the biting darkness, he seemed more frenzied, less controlled than you’d seen him before, as if a fire burned within him that couldn’t be quenched. Or perhaps it was the whiskey. Either way, he was insatiable. His movements were messy, frantic. Plump lips captured yours in an impassioned embrace, your back braced against the pebbledashed wall of the house, the embers of the party slowly dying inside. Aemond’s fire roared brightly, the flames of passion swelling in his eyes.
You moved in tandem in a messy celebration of limbs and spit, neither one of you cognisant of your surroundings, both oblivious to the position of your feet as you danced in passionate unison. Your steps were clumsy as Aemond flung you from wall to wall, your back taking the brunt of his zealous maneuvers. He was a man possessed by desire, but there was something far darker driving his insatiable lust, something you’d very quickly be confronted with, face to face.
In a whirlwind of tangled limbs and blundering footsteps, you managed to lose your footing and your grip on your boyfriend's muscular frame somehow. You stumbled in the dark, losing your balance over something dense on the ground. Tumbling forwards without anything to grip onto, your knees immediately hit the damp earth, taking the brunt of the fall. They squelched into some wet mud, no doubt ruining your favourite dress, but other than that, only your pride was hurt. It was only when you stood up and inspected your hands under the dim flickering light over the back door that you realised it was more than mud; it was thick and sticky, coagulated into revolting globules.
Under the warm, fading light of a lone bulb, you saw your hands covered in a deep crimson substance, which you quickly recognised as blood - even under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn’t an illusion, your mind wasn’t playing tricks. It dripped from your fingers into the earth below your feet, staining the ground as it fell. You cast your gaze towards the object that hindered your steps in the dark, and immediately noticed a pale hand dislodged from the mess of grass and sodden muck. Earth encrusted digits led your eyes towards a face, ghostly and drained of life, smothered and half-buried in the damp soil. Two vacant eyes stared into the night, their colour leeched from their place, a result of a throat slashed, and left to drain the contents of his body into the earth below. His body had been mercilessly butchered, cast aside into the mud, and left to rot under the watchful gaze of the moon. Left to the elements, as if nothing more than rubbish. Though you didn’t recognise his face, reality quickly set in.
A blood-curdling scream bubbled up from your lungs, spurting from two kiss-swollen lips, before being quickly silenced by a large hand. The sound didn’t even get the chance to echo into the night before the man you loved grabbed you and gripped your skin so hard it was sure to bruise. Aemond had wrapped himself around you again, one hand clasped around your mouth, the other holding your waist tight. “Shh,” he hissed in your ear, as if the shock would subside on command, as if you'd not just stumbled across a fucking dead body at a party. What was his name? His face looked familiar, but so pallid and pale, with his skin reflecting the bitter chill of death, you couldn't quite tell who it belonged to.
“Sshhhhh…I couldn’t just let his eyes defile you, I had to teach him a lesson...see” he teased, while sniffing at your neck. The hand around your mouth directed your gaze downwards once more, as if looking upon the icy cold flesh of a dead man once wasn’t enough. No, you were forced to look upon a man you scarcely knew, but who had the audacity to look in your direction just a minute too long for Aemond’s liking. You wriggled under his grasp, desperate to run away, to find an escape from his clutches. “That's insane, why? Why would you kill him for simply looking at me? You know I only have eyes for you, Aem, but this…this is nuts..”
“You belong to me,” he murmured, the words serving as both a promise and a sure threat. “And I do. not. share.” His voice rumbled against your skin, vibrating through your bones and settling deep within you. Those words, staccato against the cold night air, each consonant emphasised, would be imprinted in your psyche, committed to memory in flesh…if you survived the night that is. His eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. You’d never seen this side of your boyfriend before, a whole new person emerged from behind those eyes. One who relished in danger, who delighted in inflicting fear. He revelled in the terror he caused, drank in every drop of panic pouring from your face. It seemed a switch had flipped in Aemond, where once was Jekyll, now shone Hyde. He’d become the monster, the bump in the night. Where once lay affection, deep seated and genuine, his eyes now only reflected his delight in your terror. They were devoid of any true emotion, any connection you once shared, if you indeed ever did, was now replaced by sheer derision and ridicule.
“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to.”
Every word emphasised by sharp sibilance, every consonant harsh and unexpectedly aggressive. You loved Aemond’s voice once, only minutes earlier infact, each rumbling low note and how he could command with such minimal effort. Yet with one sentence, he managed to erase any trace of love, and instead instill fear; chilling you to the bone with words alone, whispered into the crisp night air. Despite the chill running through your veins, nipping at your skin and drawing goosebumps to the surface of your flesh at Aemond’s cold glare, and despite the corpse lying mere inches from your feet, that one line was enough to stir something within you.
The thought of Aemond taking you in the open air, claiming your body with cold steel pressed against your skin, although wicked and slightly deranged, forced a need you never knew you had to the forefront of your mind. Perhaps deep down, you always knew who he was, perhaps you liked his possessive nature, his forceful and domineering personality. As reserved and well tempered as he was, it always lingered just beneath the surface, waiting to rear its head. Something in his voice let you know he meant it, let you know that you weren’t getting out of this house without him utterly claiming you, flesh and bone.
The rest of the world melted away as he pulled you closer, constricting his arms around your chest like a python. The party slipped into the darkness, clouded by dizziness and fear. All you could hear was the sound of your breath, as it was squeezed from your lungs, right before Aemond released his grip and allowed you to draw air once more. It was all a game, your life a frivolity. Even still, you couldn’t help but let arousal wash over you. Arousal mixed with fear proved to be an intoxicating combination, a drug you had never experienced before.
Seeing that glimmer, that faint light in your eyes as he laid claim to your body, Aemond was emboldened to push onwards, to find his pleasure in a body willing, pliable, and waiting in his grip. Yet he needed to know just how far he could push, just how much he could take from you before you’d recoil in disgust. He needed to know just how far he could push you before you’d break. Delving one hand slowly into his jacket pocket, Aemond withdrew a knife, its handle settling into the curve of his deft hand. Even in the dying light, its blade danced and glittered, shining menacingly against the blackness. Your eyes widened, yet you didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe against the shining silver he drew to your pale flesh.
With a sharp knife to the throat, the steel pressing against your delicate flesh, you trembled beneath its pointed blade. Aemond tested your mettle, pressing it hard enough to break the skin and draw a minuscule drop of blood to the blade. A hiss escaped your lips, swallowed quickly by Aemond’s plump mouth. No sooner had you made a sound, he wrapped his pouting lips around yours, taking his pleasure from your pain. He’d never given you cause to be afraid before, but now, with hardened steel slicing at your throat, and a sparkle you’d never seen before gracing his natural eye, Aemond looked every bit the villain. “I never took you for a sadist…but you seem to be enjoying this a little too much..”
“There's a lot you don't know about me, darling.” he whispered, a menacing smirk creasing the pale skin of his perfectly chiselled face. Despite the hairs at the back of your neck standing on edge, and your nervous system all of a sudden plunged into a state of fight or flight, you couldn’t help but succumb to the wiles of this perfectly handsome man. Even with his flaws and his newfound savagery, your body ached to feel him, to feel his warmth and that deliciously familiar sting as he ravaged your body.
The driving bassline of ‘Psycho Killer’ thumped through the brick walls, a fitting soundtrack for Aemond’s mindless ravaging of your helpless frame. There was nothing you could do to stop him in this moment, nothing you could do to escape…but if you were truthful with yourself, you really didn’t want to. Even with fear licking at the edges, your nerves pulsing in time with the groovy bassline thundering through the concrete walls, you abandoned all reasonable judgement in favour of potential pleasure. You lapped up his undivided attention, his utterly deranged attempts at securing your affections. And no matter how much your mind sought to escape his greedy clutches, how desperately a rational part of you wanted to flee, another part of you craved Aemond’s touch, no matter the circumstances, no matter how grim your surroundings may have been. Your body instinctively knew how crazy he was for you, how deeply he craved the comfort of your flesh, and how he’d kill to keep you all to himself. A part of you loved it; a voice that sounded when his hands roamed your body, all controlling and all enveloping. And now it was that part of you that drove you further into his embrace, that relinquished control of your flesh to his greedy hands. As you closed your eyes and shut the world out, you could only feel his slender fingers worshipping your body, every touch a prayer to your depraved soul. They traced a path through your skin, gripping at every inch as if his hands could strip it from your bones. It wasn’t long before you felt the evidence of his appetite pulsing against you, a thick bulge caressing your abdomen, searching for friction and warmth, searching for its target.
In a flurry of raw passion and craze-fuelled lust, Aemond’s hands flew to your head, grasping your hair at the root and tugging at it until your scalp throbbed; an undeniable stinging sensation that forced you to do its bidding. He pushed you down, your knees once more hitting the blood sodden earth. Once again, your eyes fell on the dead body lying only inches from you, yet Aemond forced your eyes upwards, tugging at your hair until he had your undivided attention.
It was obvious what he wanted, and he knew just how to make you squirm while getting it. Before long, his cock had sprung free of its tight denim prison and hung heavy before your face.
You could never quite grasp how well endowed he was for a petite man. It seemed so disproportionate to his body, yet you never once complained, except for the moments in that initial intrusion of course. The crisp night air nipped at the delicate skin. It was this cold air that only intensified the pleasure when your lips wrapped around his shaft, when the warmth of your mouth enveloped his cock, drawing him into your throat as far as you were physically able. His hips immediately chased a rhythm which mirrored the music from the other side of the wall, pistoning relentlessly, pounding your throat, causing you to gag and choke around him. There was no time to tease, no time to accommodate his size in your throat. Yet he didn’t let you move. His fingers flexed at your scalp, coaxing your mouth deeper still. The pain prickled, a sharp stinging sensation, yet it was dulled by the force of his merciless thrusts. His hips kept up an unforgiving pace, chasing a release that all too quickly approached.
Before long, your throat was painted by his unending supply of semen, as unrelenting and demanding as the tempo of his hips against your jaw. You greedily swallowed each and every drop, milking his cock with hollowed cheeks. He was stunned at your veracious appetite for his cum, the haze of orgasm washing heavily over his tired eyes, yet you kept up your enthusiastic pursuits. Even after release, Aemond stayed rock hard. His solid phallus throbbed in your mouth, veins pulsating against the muscle of your tongue even as he pulled out and let it rest on the tip, the protruding vasculature quivering against the warmth of your lips. The thought of ruining your cunt as one of his victims lay alongside you had him ready almost immediately, every inch of his body thrumming at the prospect. To see the woman he craved and the man he so furiously butchered laying side by side became part of the fantasy, part of the game.
The fear present in your eyes, mixed with a shameful desire for what he had to offer only spurred his arousal, the war raging in your mind between sheer terror and a desire for absolute pleasure evident in tear-stained eyelids. Your mascara had run down your cheeks, painting your face as it fell. Aemond admired his work, yet he was only getting started. His desire to ruin you, to take exactly what he wanted from your pretty cunt and have you fall apart around him was titillating.
For months, he watched you play the part of the dutiful girlfriend, yet you entertained lustful stares from random men. Holding their leering gazes across a room. It was a shame, but he simply had to punish you, to mark you as his own. If you didn't submit, if you wouldn't behave…well..Killing you was never part of the plan, but his blade was thirsty, and brats must be shown the error of their ways. Perhaps he'd show some mercy if you were good.
His hands remained interwoven with your scalp, fingers tugging at the roots tightly to keep you in line. The sting provided a sharp reminder that your boyfriend had in fact killed a man, who laid face down in the dirt only inches from your feet. Yet you couldn’t help the heat of arousal building with every tug. As Aemond dragged you from your knees to your feet, pulling you tight to his chest before spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the coil in your core grew increasingly tight. He didn’t even have to fuck you to make you a quivering mess beneath him. Any trace of fear left seemed to leak down your leg with evidence of your arousal. Your face grazed the pebbledash finish on the side of the house, but it wasn’t long before he forcefully arched your back, pulling your head backwards by the hair and pressing your cunt against his tumescent cock. He didn’t even need to undress you; he had easy access once your panties were pushed aside. Aemond loved it when you wore such short dresses; he fantasised about moments like this. Your underwear was sodden, you didn’t even need to be touched to be ready for Aemond’s intrusion into your body. “Hm,” he snickered, that knowing smirk plastered firmly onto his chiselled face. It was amusement, laced with derision and mocking, something completely foreign to your ears from a man you only knew as loving, though truthfully, you had clearly ignored many aspects of his personality, perhaps you saw it and ignored it in favour of his more amorous qualities. Desire can cloud judgement, and you’d definitely misjudged Aemond.
He took full advantage of the ample lubrication. Nudging the folds of your cunt with his spongey pink tip, he tilted his hips and found the right angle so that he could easily plough into you with devastating effect. In one swift motion, Aemond speared your cunt with his impressively thick cock. Another ear-splitting scream left your lips, this time caused by the force of being impaled by your boyfriend's egregiously large penis rather than a corpse scaring the life out of you. Usually, he gave you time to adjust, inched his way in, and let your walls stretch to accommodate his size, but tonight he saw fit to punish you, to brutally defile your body as he saw fit. Perhaps it was retribution for letting your eyes linger on another longer than appropriate, perhaps this was bubbling within him for a long time. He didn’t stifle your screams this time, he let them ring out for everyone to hear.
Time passed in a blur, your body no more than a vessel for containing Aemond’s rage. You were pinned against the wall by his veined forearms, blood pumping through his body with the exertion. You could do little to adjust to his onslaught, your body didn’t have time to get used to the feeling. His sharp hips pistoned against the plump curve of your arse, the sound of skin slapping echoing out into the hollow night. You knew you’d be bruised, your skin would bear the mottled remnants of his anger for days, stained with multicoloured blotches. You let your mind wander, settling into the thick fog of pain and numbness. It’d be over in just a minute, with the pace Aemond had set; he was sure to come undone quite quickly. There was no restraining raw, animalistic desire and his was on full display. Eventually, the pain of his forceful penetration dulled, the sharp sting muted, and all too soon you felt the familiar coil settle in your core. You knew there’d be no relief, yet you allowed yourself to hope, to picture the sweet release that could come, if he was merciful.
This wasn’t reminiscent of any other time you’d fucked, any other time he used your body for his pleasure. There was no love present here, no affection, only crude carnal desire. Raw, unfiltered, tainted with ego and testosterone. Pure adrenaline coursed through his system, driving each callous thrust. There was no hint of gentility in his movements, no trace of the man you’d once made love to. This monster chased his own high, using your flesh as he saw fit. Your skin would bear the evidence; it’d remind you of this night even when the memory dulled. Even when the haze of potential pleasure clouded your recall of his brutality. Mottled bruising would stain the surface, remind you of the sudden appearance of this alter ego, this second self Aemond had long hidden. A bloodthirsty creature that lingered underneath the surface, and reared its head when jealousy spilled over. Considering the alternative, being used as no more than a fleshlight was a preferable outcome. Considering the violence you’d seen at his hand, the body that day in the dirt as a result of his rage, being used for his sexual release was the least egregious path.
Yet, even though your mind knew all this was wrong, that you were upset and betrayed, that you wanted the gentle man you loved back, you couldn’t deny the physical response your body had to being so roughly handled. You couldn’t deny the burning between your legs, the ever tightening coil as his cock ravaged your cunt. And though your mind had slightly more trouble overcoming the whole jealous rage-murder-thing, your body seemed more than capable of withstanding each revenge fuelled thrust, each slap of skin and bone against your delicate flesh. Even the sound of his pale skin smacking against yours drew goosebumps to the surface and sent a fresh shiver through your bones. You knew you’d fall apart around him soon. The question was, would he find his high before your banks burst around him?
Aemond certainly wasn’t shy about making noise, letting his guttural grunts ring out into the night. He didn’t care who heard, he didn’t care who witnessed the punishment he inflicted upon you for casting your eyes towards another. He watched your body swallow his cock, over and over, as his hips kept up their punitive pace. Somehow, the sight of his cock disappearing into your body, sheathed within such warmth, it pulled emotion from him that he never knew he had. He didn’t think he was capable of forgiveness, of being anything but cold and vengeful. Yet this seemed like a fitting punishment for you, taking his length over and over, taking him so deeply into your body that he felt the very essence of you coming apart around him. The moonlight danced on your juices, which coated his cock from tip to base. It was mesmerising, hypnotising, evidence of your arousal and devotion, even under such gruelling circumstances. Aemond felt the familiar flutter of your walls around his shaft, the telltale sign that you were on the precipice of release. Yet you held yourself together, you held your peak back. And he would drag you there, he’d show you just how merciful a violent man could be, with the evidence of his passion staring at them from the cold ground.
Aemond’s change of heart was sudden and rather shocking. Instead of verbalising his ideas, instead of communicating, he halted his brutal assault all at once, pulling his pants up around shaking knees and leaving you empty, without warning or any thought for your building pleasure.
You just stood, in a state of shock and right on the edge of release, desperate for relief, when it stood tantalisingly close. He hadn’t finished, he didn't even wipe himself off, he just…stopped. And before you could comprehend why, Aemond’s hand found the nape of your neck. His grip was tight, consuming, his touch like tongues of flame against the contrasting chill of the night air, yet he didn’t grab tight enough to cause you pain. Just to bend you to his will, to let you know that you belonged to him, and him alone.
He pulled you into the warmth of the house once without a word, ignoring the sheen of sweat on your brow, and the red hot flush that burned beneath your skin from his efforts. As you walked through sticky swathes of drunken people, you kept your eyes trained on the beer stained floor, hoping that nobody would notice your disheveled state. The crowd were too engrossed in their bottles to notice, but you were certain everyone had heard your lurid activities outside, even above the din of the playlist that blasted through crackling speakers in the living room. Approaching the one person you knew would miss your presence, you said a quiet goodbye to Helaena before disappearing through the sea of inebriated bodies, into the ink-black night with Aemond guiding your way. His hands gripped your spine like a vice, directing every step, controlling the depth and pace of every breath you took. Yet there was something oddly freeing about it. Something strangely comforting about removing your autonomy and giving complete control to this unhinged human.
He controlled your every move, even when his hands weren’t on your body. You felt his red hot stare lingering as he rounded the bonnet, making his way to the driver door.
The dark leather creaked as he sank into the plush seat, the material shifting under his weight, accommodating and molding to his shape as he settled into it. It gave way to him like clay, fitting to his svelte yet strangely dense and muscular form. He didn't reach for the radio, didn't force small talk where it wasn't needed. From the minute the key turned in the ignition, Aemond had you right where he wanted you; unsatisfied and on the edge of reason. He left you empty and confused, waiting on tenterhooks for his next move.
As he steered into the night, with only the glow of the headlights shining against the tarmac, his hand moved to rest on your thigh, long fingers digging into the soft flesh, leaving crescent shapes in their wake. He may as well have branded you, his touch felt like flames nipping at your skin. Not once did that hand leave your thigh, not once did he lift his fingers from their resting place.
Each squeeze made your breath hitch in your chest, each time getting a little tighter, pinching the skin just a little more. You knew there was a chance those marks would be permanent, scars to remind you exactly who you belonged to, like a tattoo carved into flesh.
Passing streetlights illuminated the smirk permanently painted onto his face. The pale glow from the outside glinted off of his prosthetic eye, catching the sapphire hue and somehow making Aemond look even more menacing. Each flickering bulb formed a rhythm; you found yourself tapping your fingers to the beat of each one as it whizzed by. Perhaps it was a way to distract from the sting of nails digging into your thigh muscle, perhaps it was a coping mechanism - a way to make sense of all that had happened tonight, and all that was sure to come in the early hours of morning. Despite the pleasure you were denied, and the lingering ache within you from Aemond's onslaught, you couldn't help but recall the horrors you had seen also.
You’d left that man lying face down in the dirt. Would he be found by some other drunken soul, stumbling over his chilled corpse as they sparked up a cigarette? Wound someone find out who had led him to his inevitable death?
The torturous silence stretched into the night, the only sound underneath that metal roof were the mingled hushed tones of your combined breaths.
No door could contain Aemond's fervour, no barrier of wood could keep him from his plans. As soon as his feet crossed the threshold, he pulled you down the hall, pulling you into the bathroom hastily. He didn't verbalise his carefully crafted plans, he never once let you know where his mind was going, you simply followed wordlessly, accepting your fate as it came.
You certainly didn't expect plump lips to meet your own in an unusually passionate embrace, before backing you into the shower, still fully clothed. You didn't question it, but your eyes clearly communicated your confusion, ad Aemond answered with a familiar cheeky grin.
His hand reached behind you, releasing the water from its chamber. It was hot, like fire in liquid form. Like dragon fire, tongues of flame licked at the surface of your skin. Aemond didn't seem to notice, it didn't seem to faze him, and immediately crowded around you, backing you against the glass wall. He had less grip under the running water, his hands couldn’t get purchase on your skin. Clawing hands slipped under the flow of running water, yet that didn't hinder his frenzied actions.
He crowded you against the glass, held your body tightly with one hand, while the other wandered to the slick column of your throat. Nimble fingers wrapped around delicate skin, pressing slightly on either side. Just enough to remind you of his power, just enough to keep you malleable under his touch.
He’d already punished you that night, taken his anger and malice out thoroughly on your pliant cunt. So instead of abusing his power and alienating the one good thing he had, he decided to incentivise good behaviour. To show you he could be the devoted man you thought he was, as well as the one you found tonight. To keep you truly under his thumb, he needed to be merciful as well as vengeful. Besides, it was fun to watch you fall apart under his touch, to watch your eyes roll back in your head as his body brought you immense pleasure. Dropping to his knees, Aemond hooked one of your thighs over his shoulder as you braced yourself against the glass, eyes widening with each surprising development. You could scarcely believe the vision before you, it was a shocking u-turn, a swift pivot back to the passionate, tender man you called yours only hours earlier, though that sharp edge remained. The man you thought you knew so well was not lost, merely buried beneath the thin veil of a monster. You just let it happen, not daring to question his intentions, not daring to interrupt.
A hot tongue darted from his jaw, catching the falling water on its rough surface before plunging to its purpose. His jutting chin nuzzled between your legs, his pointed nose angled slightly upwards to stimulate your sensitive clit. Aemond knew what he was doing, he always did, but this night he set about devouring you with renewed purpose and surprising enthusiasm. One dazzlingly blue eye peered up at you from between your folds. He seemed to know just where to apply pressure, how to stimulate the most sensitive spots that would make you melt into his mouth. He was still the man who devoured you at every turn, who took pleasure in pleasuring you. But this time seemed different, this time he seemed determined to watch you come undone, to assert dominance in the most unlikely of positions. Every breath, every sweet exclamation and high pitched whine only fed his ego further. You were truly and devastatingly under his thumb, and you knew it. With one swipe of his tongue, you’d fallen into his trap. There was no escaping it now.
So instead of fighting the pleasure that welled deep within, that wrung tighter with each lapping sweep of his textured tongue you gave yourself over to it. You resigned yourself to the duality of his wanton violence, to his murderous tendencies and slightly insane possessive nature, with the man that knelt before you, the one you'd fallen for. You even allowed yourself to enjoy it, to lose yourself in it and lap up each and every ounce of tainted love Aemond deemed fit to give.
Even over the patter of running water, your exclamations of ecstasy echoed between the thick glass panes keeping you aloft. Your knees had long buckled beneath your tired frame, you were only kept upright by Aemond's strong shoulders and one solid sheet of glass behind your back.
It wasn't long before you found the pleasure you were earlier denied in a warm supping tongue, ravaging your cunt as if it’d never taste your flesh again. As if your skin contained the sweetest of nectar, a delicacy Aemond sought out most fervently.
It was merely minutes before you were spilling into the open caverns of his mouth, your body succumbing to his expert ministrations, seceding its battle with guilt and fear to an overwhelming blanket of ecstasy. Aemond sucked every drop from your dripping cunt, licked and sucked your swollen clit long past the point of release, until he had you writhing around his head, begging for relief from the almost painful overstimulation. It was only then, as your pleading rang in his ears, that Aemond finally relinquished his efforts, and made his way back up your body, to share his reward with your waiting mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his searing kiss. He claimed every inch of you, everything you had was his.
And now, as he gave you everything you wanted, you were more than willing to succumb to his every whim.
Though when the haze of pleasure wore off, when the coil in your gut had been let loose and you could think clearly, your mind reeled, remembering every gory detail the night held.
You were truly stuck, wedged firmly under his thumb, and Aemond knew exactly how to keep you pliant and willing, he knew exactly how much your body yearned for his hands, how you couldn’t possibly resist the call of his body, even when your mind fought to escape.
The next morning, knuckles rapped on sagging wood that could tell a multitude of stories. Glazed eyes opened the door to reveal local police, investigating a missing person's report.
The man without a name, the corpse in the cold, who everyone assumed had Irish goodbyed, never made it home. Yet another young man in recent weeks who never graced their own front doors again, who disappeared without a trace. His body had been discovered tossed onto the side of a blackened road, far from anyone who loved him, or even knew his name. His roommates called it in, knowing he was supposed to walk home that night. They knew he'd never stay out, never leave his cat unattended without saying anything. It was out of character for him to stay out without so much as a text, or posting about his night. They knew something was very wrong when he didn’t grace their flat by 4am, and they raised the alarm.
Two level headed cops interviewed every hungover face in that living room, every person that stayed and slept where they stood. As expected, memories were foggy, clouded by alcohol and recreational drugs, now wreaking havoc on tired bodies. Yet despite hazy recollections of that night, Aemond’s name came up a few times for having disappeared throughout the night. Sore heads and cloudy memories all pointed to Aemond as acting suspiciously, though nobody outrightly suspected him of being a killer. A few names graced tired lips, a few people who had left early, some who had a reputation for trouble, some who were known to disappear without saying anything. Yet it was Aemond that drew attention, it was him that stuck in the clouded minds of everyone who attended that night.
It wasn’t long before trouble graced your doorstep, the hollow sound of knuckles knocking at your door stirring you from sleep, and bringing you out into the hallway. You were groggy, moving slowly, but you heard someone at the door. Aemond was already up, and had answered the front door clad in nothing but his boxers. To some it might have been seen as pure laziness, you knew better. You knew that the sight of his sculpted body would throw off whoever was on the other side of that door, knocking at an ungodly hour as a migraine rattled through your brain. You could barely hear what they were saying from your perch atop the stairs, but you did hear several questions being asked, and so out of curiosity, you wandered to the landing to get a better view. It was the police. Shit.
Every morose detail came flooding back to you, in grotesque clarity. The blood, his face under the pale moonlight, the wound that spanned the breadth of his neck. The violence and brutality of it all. You’d honestly forgotten most of it, the vivid details were diluted by alcohol and knocked loose by Aemond’s bipolar behaviour afterwards. But seeing two officers in uniform grace your apartment door brought it all back, including the overwhelming sense of horror. It was all you could do to run to the bathroom and rid yourself of the guilt before someone spotted you.
After you’d expelled your guilt into the porcelain bowl, washing your face with cold water and tidying yourself up to the best of your ability, you decided to join Aemond downstairs. It was better than hiding. You only caught part of the conversation, and even as you descended the stairs, you heard pointed voices echoing in condescending tones.
“You’re not in any trouble,” one of them said kindly, ‘the good cop,’ Aemond thought distastefully, though he didn’t for one second let his face reflect his true thoughts. “Right now we’re just following some lines of inquiry and your name has come up a lot.”
Another, more stern voice chimed in quickly after. “Seems enough people were concerned about your disappearing acts on the night in question that they thought it worthwhile mentioning.”
“Am I under arrest, officers?” he sighed, almost bored at their probing line of questioning. You cringed at his blatant display of ego, you knew that this alter Aemond was different, somewhat maniacal but you never thought what would happen when he was confronted with true authority. Even still, you made your way over to them and stood by his side, giving a polite nod to the officers.
“Well that depends son, you have anyone else that can account for your whereabouts on the night, anybody who can solidly swear they were with you the entire time?”
Silence. He looked to the side, throwing his eyes in your direction, slightly confused, but also betrayed by your hesitance.
Aemond deflated, he thought of the fear in your eyes when you'd discovered the true depths of his depravity last night, the look of betrayal when he’d pressed the metal of his blade to your skin and watched the trickle of blood there. Somehow he expected obedience.
“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to,” he’d said at the time and he’d hoped his actions last night were enough to enforce upon you that no matter what happened now: no cuffs, bars or barbed-wired fences would ever change the fact that he had killed and would kill again to remind you of this fact.
“That’s what I thought..” the tougher cop smirked after a few moments of uneasy, weighted silence, “Aemond Targaryen you are under-”
Realising the opportunity before you, seeing your chance at escape from this dire situation of your own making, you kept your mouth firmly shut. You never anticipated just how viscerally your body would react to the jingling of handcuffs though, the cold metal struck a chord within you, pulling something along the lines of guilt and sending a feeling akin to pity bubbling to the surface. Your resolution to stay silent broke in a matter of seconds, your steel will crumbling before you could stop yourself.
Just as he was about to be placed in cuffs, his eyes locked with yours once more and disappointment turned to rage in an instant. There was no pleading to be found there, just a look, a look that made your stomach clench and the words were wrenched from you before you even had time to think. One glance from dazzlingly blue eyes was all it took for the words to come tumbling from your lips. "He was with me all night” you blurted and the cop stopped mid arrest-speech. You regretted it as soon as you heard the words form in the air before you, but it was too late. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at you in a way that made you feel small and far too bare. You had given Aemond a way out, an escape from a fate he truly deserved.
“All night you say?” he asked, tone mocking and you were nodding wide-eyed and heart racing.
“And you would be willing to swear that before a judge now would you sweetheart?”
Something about his mocking tone, or his condescending use of the word sweetheart had you bridling and you stuck your chin out stubbornly.
“I’ll swear it to anyone you want me to, he never left my sight all night. I can even go into the details of what exactly we were doing when we ‘disappeared’ each time if you’d like.”
‘That’s my girl’, Aemond thought as the police officer was forced to unclasp the bracelets from his narrow wrists and he grinned knowing that he had you exactly where he wanted you. You’d had your chance to escape him, and now he knew resolutely that you were lovestruck, even in the face of everything you’d seen and he had you undeniably stuck, under his thumb.
With an alibi now firmly in place they had no choice but to take your statements and be on their way, any hope they had of pinning it on Aemond dissipated with your sworn statement and their demeanour toward him completely changed.
Aemond himself had switched into charming mode, you’d seen it a thousand times before, you had yourself been victim to it, but it still scared you how easily he slipped into it and how capable he was of making people believe him and bend to his will.
“Whoever the killer’s after, I'm glad they have you guys to protect them” Aemond uttered to the retreating police, flashing a fake smile their way before turning his back.
“City’s finest…” he whispered under his breath, as they walked in the opposite direction, leaving you to a fate of your own making. As he pushed past you, once more entering the cosy apartment, Aemond whispered a final sentence that made your blood run cold at the utterance.
“You can't run from who you are baby ..none of us can”
Taglist: (no pressure) @volklana @thenameswinter99 @suntizme @zaldritzosrose @dreamilypurplepillar
Hello! I just happened to stumble across one of your works and when I say I became a fan I’m not even close to exaggerating it.
I’ve been on a writer and reading slump for ages now but I just felt like reading today and I’m so glad I did. Your prose is spectacular, the narration, pacing, everything, from the vocabulary to the character development, everything was utterly brilliant. I am completely enamored and just wanted to let you know that you are an impeccable writer 🫶🏻
🥹 This is the sweetest thing I've received in quite a while. First of all, thank you so much! And to think, that's my first (well, first full length) Aemond fic...ive written quite a lot for other fandoms, other characters, but I've always found it difficult to write in Aemond's voice! I'm delighted that you liked it, and that it struck a chord somewhere 😁
Secondly, I just appreciate the message as a whole. It can get pretty disheartening writing without feedback or engagement - which seems to be the way of things lately, sadly. So I really really appreciate you reaching out, even if it was critique, I'd have been glad of the interaction! Thank you again 🖤 and if I write any more for Aemond, I'll definitely tag you in it! I do have some fics in the works on my side blog, if any of those topics strike your fancy!
Genuinely made my evening, so thank you, yet again 🖤 🖤 🖤
Eddie x (f) reader
Loosely inspired by the song “I was made for lovin’ you” by Kiss.
Set in the 80s, but Eddie is aged up for my sanity 😂 late 20s - early 30s.
Eddie meets reader by chance, a proper meet cute.
18+, smut ahead. Minors DNI.
Word count: 10.4k
Small towns are stifling, backwards and completely regressive in lots of ways, but without a family or much ambition to reinvent yourself, to find your calling in this big bad world, you had somehow found yourself both adrift and simultaneously tethered to a world you knew almost too intimately. Your mind couldn't stretch to the possibility of leaving the comfort and familiarity of the place you grew up, and when it did, the fear of the unknown ultimately took over so you'd found yourself stuck. Sometimes being comfortable means you’re lost, that is until something wrenches you from that cosy bubble and turns your world upside down. In your case it came in the form of an ostracised stranger who lived on the fringe of society quite happily. He barrelled into your life, quite literally, and upset the narrow path you found yourself unwittingly trudging.
Sometimes there comes someone who changes your world views, who literally flips your idea of your life on its edge and challenges everything you believed about yourself, everything you’d sat in so comfortably for a long time. Change isn’t always a bad thing, though you were resistant to it for an unreasonable amount of time. It’s not that you were scared, you were stuck, accustomed to the boring begrudgery of small-town life and hesitant to introduce chaos into something that worked. But that’s exactly what Eddie Munson introduced - pure, unadulterated chaos.
It was 6pm on the button, and as usual you were in the store long past the end of your shift. Your idiotic manager had absconded once again, leaving you to complete the vast list of closing duties alone. Delayed and irritated, you danced around the store in a blur of limbs and frustration, eyes darting to the waxing hands of your wristwatch. Darting pain shot through the soles of your feet, weary from a day of rushing around after clueless customers, restocking shelves and carrying boxes of inventory - all by yourself, naturally. As those hands ticked by and time passed all too quickly, so too did your patience. He was always doing this, forcing you to close up, by yourself, at the very last minute - leaving you crazed and frantic trying to count coins and sort the lodgements, to clean the mess left by bored teenagers and somehow lock up, with only a miniscule amount of time left to sprint for your bus.
Was it ignorance or plain stupidity? You always thought he was lacking brain cells, but maybe that’s what a lifetime confined within a small town does to a person, perhaps he knew your situation but simply didn’t care. He was a man consumed by his own four-by-four world, never considering the differing circumstances of others. All scenarios were equally likely. It did mean you'd have to absolutely hotfoot it the six minutes to your bus stop, or you'd be waiting ages in the pouring rain for the next one. It beat down violently behind the crystal clear windows, battering against the glass storefront and providing a rather rhythmic soundtrack to your frustrated coin counting. Had you not been in a rush, it may even have been soothing; the white noise of fat raindrops against the window panes now only proved more irritating than comforting. You often loved lying in bed and listening to the sound of water tapping the glass of your bedroom window to its own tempo, but in this situation it only proved to cement your anger. The pitter patter of heavy raindrops mimicked the ticking of the clock, only further highlighting how late the hour grew.
Having finally finished your last task, you breathed a sigh of relief before gathering your personal items. It was finally, FINALLY time to leave. A hasty hand reached for the light switch, flicking the interior lights to the off position and leaving you standing momentarily in relative darkness. You threw up your hood, which was a little too big but would shield you from the majority of the thick droplets falling from the scarily blackened storm clouds overhead. It obscured your vision a little, but you could see your feet and a few steps in front of you, enough to find your way down a straight footpath to the bus stop. Your aching feet scurried down the neatly organised aisles of cassette tapes and vinyl records towards the glass store-front at warp speed. You'd barely cracked the door an inch wide when suddenly it flew out of your hand and you were met face first with a wall of flesh and muscle.
In a split second your world was thrown unceremoniously off its axes. As soon as you’d collided with this mysterious object, you were spun off balance, hurtling backwards onto the thread bare carpet of the store floor. You fell, bouncing on the cold hard ground, but hurting no more than your fragile pride. Falling on your ass wasn’t exactly the most graceful of maneuvers but it saved you from further injury, so you were grateful for little mercies, you supposed.
When you looked toward the door, finally facing the obstacle that stood in your way, that mercy suddenly seemed to dwindle quickly, plunging you headfirst into pure and utter mortification.
Eddie Munson, the infamous metalhead that plagued the small minded folk of your little town stood in the doorway of your record store, tall and imposing from your vantage point on the floor. You’d seen him on occasion, passing in the street or wandering the aisles before plucking a vinyl disc from its perch, rushing to pay and scampering away before wandering eyes could interrupt his day, but generally he kept to himself - out of the reach of idle mouths. He rarely even glanced in your direction, yet now he’d bounded into the store and quite literally swept you off your feet. He didn’t look like the menace he was made out to be, in fact he was quite handsome, but as you sat, ass cheeks smarting from the force of hitting the ground, he definitely didn’t lay in your good graces.
When the initial shock subsided, your face contorted into a scowl, a string of expletives escaping your lips, muttered under your breath before you pulled yourself upright and faced your attacker. Even fully outstretched, Eddie Munson stood about a foot taller than you, and more than a little intimidating. Dark ringlets framed a chiselled face, leather and denim cladding his sculpted torso. Somehow the bubbling anger under the surface didn’t allow you to shrink away from the inevitable confrontation.
“What the hell’s your problem asshole, we’re closed!” you blurted out, though your tone was a little harsher than you intended, volume raised to drive the message home.
“Shit, shit, sorry sweetheart, hey…I uh didn’t mean to scare you, I uh, I was running late and had a record to collect…” he swiftly responded, hands in the air as if you’d confronted him with a loaded gun. You were a little surprised by his meek response, with brown eyes widened in shock, and flushed cheeks, he truly seemed apologetic - even a little embarrassed.
His eyes inevitably drew you in, two pools of thickened molasses that glistened under the stark neon lights beside the front door, bewitching you without a thought. They tempered your growing tantrum somewhat, but he’d have to do more than throw those puppy eyes at you to earn your forgiveness. His eyes reflected the truth of the matter; that he was genuine and not trying to launch you into next week on purpose, and mirrored the fury of yours right back at you.
Eddie was running late, as always. Some days he just couldn’t drag his head from the pillow, it called to him like a siren; his eyelids leaden, heavy and unwilling to open to a world that despised his very existence. Some days the insomnia weighed so heavily on his shoulders that even while awake, his mind couldn’t possibly focus on the task at hand. Even on a job he enjoyed. There was a simple serenity about tending to an engine, tinkering with each part to restore a machine to perfect harmony. Even through the grime and grease, Eddie found beauty amongst the moving parts, each one working together, each one important in the overall machine. He found peace in the art of bringing a car back to life.
Despite the chaos that pursued him through life, Eddie could always lose himself in a project, immersing himself in a world outside his own as he gave aged machinery a new lease on life. And though it was a field that punished his aching body relentlessly, Eddie couldn’t see himself doing anything else - except perhaps music, his other great joy in life.
After each arduous day, his body teetering on the precipice of giving in, riddled with deep seated aches and pains, nothing brought him more bliss than the crackle of a fresh record as that needle hit. There was something unique about the experience of vinyl, something intoxicating. This day brought entirely new horrors to his aching limbs however; a fresh engine block had to be wrestled into the gaping maw of a very pretty Dodge Challenger, a task difficult enough for two men, let alone one on his own. His shoulders had screamed under the weight, his back buckling even with the assistance of several chains and a rusty hoist. Yet somehow, he eventually accomplished his goal and was able to leave the garage in his rear view at the end of the day, satisfied yet entirely exhausted. Now Eddie desired nothing more than to relax with a record he’d had on backorder for months. To lose himself in the dulcet tones of Morrissey in a haze of thick smoke.To melt into the worn cotton sheets and drift off to lyrics of woe and the twang of acoustic guitar strings.
He was a metalhead at heart but Eddie collected music of all kinds; though admittedly his soul truly belonged to the darkside. He could scarcely wait for his next purchase, the long awaited Master of Puppets by Metallica. They’d been advertising it for a year, teasing him, tantalising his earholes with snippets across the radio…but it was only a few weeks until the big reveal, until he could hear the satisfying static of fresh vinyl before succumbing to their particular strand of hefty riff, before losing himself in a realm of guitar strings and kick drums. Till then, the soothing melancholia of The Smiths would see him through, along with the other options in his vastly eclectic collection. The choices depended heavily on his mood, there was a record for any and all feelings adorning his sagging shelves.
Typically though, on the one day Eddie desperately needed some musical relief, his journey to the fountain of music was delayed; traffic sprawled for miles around Hawkins, delayed by a crash on the freeway just outside the town. Vehicles inched at a torturously slow pace, each one purposefully placed in his path to further the frustration of a heavy work day. It brewed with each minute that passed, bubbling over with each newly illuminated brake light. To stop himself from developing total road rage, Eddie switched on his custom-built stereo system, his pride and joy, and drowned out any lingering thoughts in his head. A familiar voice boomed through the speakers - the soothing tones of Robin Buckley reporting the evening news before setting Hawkins alight with her own particular brand of indie and pop rock. Though it wasn’t his usual style, Eddie often tuned in just to catch up with an old friend. Rockin’ Robin occasionally snuck in a heavier track, and though she never said it outright, exposing him even further to the ire of the masses across the airwaves, Eddie knew it was for his benefit alone. A small rebellion to the status quo. Some days it was that little personal touch that painted a much needed smile across a weary, oil streaked face. Knowing he wasn’t entirely alone was a comforting thought. Although he was used to being on the fringe of society, at times it did become tiresome, the constant stares and idle chatter wore away at his psyche, draining his enthusiasm for life bit by bit. He saw less and less of his old school friends, even those who remained in Hawkins long past their time seemed to drift away, but moments like this brightened the gloom of isolation.
Eventually he inched his way up main street, and with only a few short minutes to go till closing time, Eddie recklessly double parked, hopping from his van as if his life depended on it and sprinting towards the slightly ajar doorway of his favourite place in sleepy Hawkins. His fervour soon came to a screeching halt though, when he was met with some resistance, a missile of flesh and bone barrelling into him at warp speed. He didn’t know what hit him at first, all he could register was the thump and the sudden throbbing from his chest bone. He stumbled a bit, his feet wavering from their tentative spot on the thin carpet, but he remained upright; albeit dazed by the very sudden strike to the sternum. Eddie looked down to see where the impact came from, only to be incredibly surprised by the sight before him. Two wide glassy eyes stared up at him from the floor, limbs sprawled out where they fell. For a grief moment, eyes met, reading each other’s mutual surprise painted across flash-frozen features. It was a brief glance, a minuscule moment, before your face contorted into a grimace and your anger bubbled over the top, emerging from your mouth in a string of profanity.
He didn’t hear a word that came after that point. Eddie could only stare, lips falling agape like an idiot. He was instantly smitten. In all his years treading holes in the carpet of this record shop, he’d never noticed the pretty lady behind the counter - he was usually too preoccupied with avoiding the drama of small minded gossips and running late for dinner with his uncle to stop and admire what was always right in front of him. How had he been so blind? He barely heard the barrage of poison leave your lips; had he not been looking directly at them, he wouldn’t have even registered the existence of the words. He’d have stood staring and silent, wordless like a fool. Judging by the intensity etched into your soft features, it seemed only right to apologise for storming into the store like a freight train and knocking you across the aisle. He wanted..no, needed to make it right, and perhaps even improve his chances of securing a potential date in the future. Besides, pissing off one of the few dealers of his musical addiction in townwas a bad idea in any universe.
Eddie Munson was not an unknown entity in the small town of Hawkins - far from it. His name alone was infamous. Not only did he come from a long line of rather nefarious swindlers and cheats - like his father before him, but Eddie had his own demons to outrun. Though the accusations of devil worship and murder were a little more farfetched in the scheme of criminality, they still followed him, hanging over his head like a guillotine - ready to drop at any minute. Like a dark raincloud, his reputation preceded him, followed him into every aspect of life. There was no escape when you presented yourself so far outside the norm, when your lifestyle and fashion choices didn’t fit in with the well groomed, beige version of life expected of a Hawkins native.
Despite his infamy, Eddie always tried his best (certainly as an adult at least) to refute his reputation. To behave like a proper gentleman and give the locals no more reason to talk, no more reasons to stare. He wouldn’t change himself, or the way he presented to the world, but he was careful to never draw unwanted attention.
You remembered him, the brief glances you’d caught of his unruly thatch of curls ducking through the aisles. Any time he’d graced the record store as a patron, he’d been polite and courteous, albeit quite distracted by the whispers of the closed-minded locals.
You’d always had a certain amount of pity for him, trouble seemed to follow him like a dark cloud throughout life, for the fact of his name alone, let alone the way he presented himself. Though unlike your fellow townsfolk, you didn’t find his very presence offensive. In fact you’d always thought him quite handsome, if a little rough around the edges.
This encounter did little to soften that hard image, but despite your annoyance and irritation, you saw a glint of sincerity in Eddie’s eyes, even after your rather uncharacteristically angry outburst. Even as you stood pin straight before him, doing your best to ignore the pain blooming in your hip, Eddie seemed to shrink under your heavy stare. You saw the truth of his character reflected in those dark irises.
“You alright? Sorry again..could I uh, maybe offer you dinner? Reckon I owe you at least a meal for the inconvenience”
“Absolutely not Munson, I'm fine. Now get out of my shop, I’m gonna miss my bus!”
Eddie took a step back, visibly deflated, shrinking inwards before your eyes, yet to his credit he persisted anyway.
“I could give you a ride, if you want…”
“Christ, you don’t get the hint do you?” in your frustration becoming more animated than usual.
“So I’ve been told..” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the awkward tension.
“What did you want anyway, can’t it wait?” your voice cut through the darkness, sharp and to the point.
“I…I had a record on order, just wanted to pick it up..I can come back..” he directed his gaze towards the floor, all traces of bravery and bravado fading quickly.
“Fine..” you relented, walking back into the store begrudgingly, flicking one set of lights on and digging through the pre-ordered items behind the counter. You were late anyway, no point in sprinting down main street only to miss the bus regardless. You’d take his offer of a ride, only because he was the source of your tardiness. And that little fall hurt more than you'd ever reveal publicly; that too was the fault of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.
However, you unwittingly found yourself fascinated by the freak, the handsome weirdo that stood before you. The more you looked, the more you saw. His hands drew your eye, more than once. Heavy tarnished rings adorned long thick fingers. His pale skin illuminated the bulging veins just beneath the surface. The first time you caught yourself staring unabashedly was right there in the store.
Whether out of impatience or merely habit, as you rifled through a box of pre ordered records, Eddie stood at the edge of the counter, drumming his digits absentmindedly against the glossy laminate counter top. An indistinguishable tune formed on his lips, no louder than a hum, but you were solely focused on his bejeweled fingers tapping rhythmically at eye level. They became an immediate fascination, something your eyes were innately drawn to. You couldn’t help but stare, imagining all the uses he’d have for those digits. You didn't know that he'd spotted your shameless ogling, you didn't know that he could almost hear the thoughts whirring through your mind as he now purposefully flexed and drummed a more complex rhythm against the counter, waiting for his precious vinyl sleeve to emerge from the pile under your hesitant hand.
The next time you found yourself mesmerised by Eddie's hands, he was driving you home.
The passing streetlights illuminated his fingers against the dark, cracked leather steering wheel. Well-loved jewellery reflected the amber glow of the bulbs overhead, glinting and glimmering in the darkness. You couldn't help but notice the way his fingers curled around the wheel, the way the veins in his forearm stood proudly under his pale skin, pulsing and jutting as he squeezed the steering column. This time though, Eddie caught your brazen staring and decided to have some fun.
With a grin threatening to break through, the corners of his mouth fighting against his usual stoicism, Eddie started moving his fingers more purposefully - bending and contracting each one around the worn leather to the rhythm of the track playing at a murmur across the stereo system. Each squeeze of that softened fabric forced the veins in his arms to the surface, each flex made them dance under the dim light. The shadows intensified in the darkness, making them look even more prominent against his ink stained skin. He took pleasure in knowing your eyes were firmly fixed on his thick digits, though Eddie dearly wished he could hear the thoughts going through your mind in that moment. Oh to be a fly on the wall of your mind, to hear lewd thoughts about his body from such a specimen of beauty. To feel wanted would be an intoxicating thing. To be lusted after came a close second. Without even glancing over, Eddie could sense the heat rising in your cheeks. He could see you fist your skirt in his peripheral, a clear sign of frustration and suppressed desire. Acutely aware of the warmth growing exponentially within you, Eddie made a play yet again, pushing his carefully crafted luck under the cover of night.
“So eh, would now be a good time to ask for a date sweetheart or should I just let you keep staring for free?” Eddie grinned. Even in the dark he could tell that you’d turned crimson, fire burning up the column of your neck to the tips of your ears.
“I uh….I guess…yeah, okay Munson. One meal.” you spluttered, caught between mild embarrassment and total mortification. Audibly gulping, you buried your lustful thoughts behind the shame of getting caught. Though somehow the punishment didn’t seem the most awful prospect, not anymore at least.
Having finally relented to Eddie’s request for a date, and agreeing to a time, you settled on a casual setting, nothing fancy or high stakes. It was only a meal after all, and neither you nor Eddie could afford anything extravagant. Eddie was a man of more than modest means - despite working a full time job, and living practically rent free in his uncle’s old trailer, he was unequivocally broke, all the time. Luckily, he enjoyed a rather simple lifestyle; eating spaghettios from a tin was a typical night-in these days. He’d never had much growing up, and though money meant very little to him, he’d been acutely aware of his status in society, even as a child. Now that he had his own stream of income, his own money and independence, he realised how difficult it was to keep it in his pocket.
It was only when he caught a glimpse of you through the vast glass windows, the neon light illuminating you from the darkness, that he immediately regretted his choice of venue and questioned his sanity - was this even real or just another messed up dream? He started to question why a woman like you was giving him the time of day, but before the doubts got their hooks in too deep, you appeared in front of him, the door of the diner swinging wide, a high pitched bell announcing your arrival.
Eddie’s eyes widened as you walked towards him, bulging from their sockets as if straight out of a cartoon. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him, as goofy as he was. Though you didn’t know him well, you found it slightly endearing how theatrical Eddie could be. Even as a nerdy teenager, he was always drawing people’s eyes with his antics, though sometimes for the wrong reasons.
“Well shit sweetheart, don't you brush up well?”
Ever the gentleman, he stood and greeted you with a peck to the cheek, stepping back a few paces afterwards to admire your outfit. His whole face lit up like a kid on Christmas, glowing like he won first prize at the fair. Like he'd been given a gift merely by basking in your presence. It did wonders for your confidence, such a simple gesture from such an unexpected source sparked a warmth in your chest you never thought would come from Eddie Munson of all people.
“heh, thanks Eddie, not lookin’ too bad yourself” you chuckled, immediately blushing at the over zealous compliment. He was in his typical attire, donning double denim as always, though underneath the patched battle jacket lay a rather crisp black shirt. He even seemed to have put product in his hair, each curl bounced across his shoulders, perfectly defined ringlets in their jet black form. “Flattery works with me sweetheart” he winked, before shaking his head in disbelief. Eddie muttered “Look like you were made for me, you're gonna be trouble, I can tell..” before chuckling heartily and once again cracking the widest smile you’d ever seen, cheeks stretching wide with a grin. In his typically over dramatic fashion, Eddie showed you to a free booth, one hand hovering at the small of your back, the other expressively gesturing towards the open chair, before bowing and waiting for you to take a seat. Everything he did was so exaggerated but you couldn't help but blush at his most unexpected gentlemanly behaviour. Even if it was an act, put on just for your enjoyment, it was working wonders.
Even as Eddie moved around the table to his own seat, leaving your orbit, his scent lingered in your nostrils; smoke, cheap cologne, and the faintest hint of engine oil. It was uniquely his, and seemed to stick around even as he moved briskly through the space. As he sat across from you, he had a look you could only describe as pride plastered across his face, it was honestly adorable. Not a word you thought you’d ever use in describing him, before that night. But life has a funny way of subverting everything you thought you knew to be true, and sometimes throwing the most pleasant of surprises your way.
Sitting across from Eddie in that tight booth was an experience in itself; your knees brushed against each other under the table, subtle acts of physical connection. He was tall and awkward, all limbs. Though you suspected he was crowding your space on purpose, using his height as a convenient excuse to feel the warmth of your skin seep into his own. These small, unexpected cracks in an otherwise gentlemanly facade were certainly surprising, yet not altogether unwanted. Throughout the date, Eddie occupied your space in every aspect, leaning forward as you talked, hanging on your every word, his scent wafting across the table and thoroughly engulfing you. Never before had a man been so attentive when you spoke, never had someone paid such undivided attention to your words. He seemed genuinely interested, despite his very obvious attempts to get closer physically. You did catch his eyes dart to your mouth more than once, his tongue popping between plump lips to dampen his desire. Small cracks in his restraint, tiny slivers of a carnal appetite breaking through an otherwise convivial front.
He was even more charming still when he chimed in on the conversation, though more than a little dramatic. Still, as he talked with his hands, each word punctuated with grandiose expressions and thoroughly animated gestures, his chunky rings glinted in the harsh diner light, highlighting his hands once more. You couldn’t help but let your attention drift occasionally away from his pretty face to those long, girthy fingers. Familiar feelings rose to the surface at the sight, feelings you tried desperately to stifle, at least until the date was over and you could take care of them in the privacy of your own home. You weren’t quite as brazen about your staring in public this time, and Eddie had yet to notice.
You had to admit, the date was going well. You hadn’t been enthusiastic about it originally, in fact you’d barely given him the time of day on your first meeting and now regretted the harsh words you’d thrown at him that evening. It was fun, light and almost seemed innately natural to be around Eddie. He had a way of instantly relaxing a slightly awkward situation like a first date. Despite his theatrics and mild eccentricities, Eddie had a calming aura, you couldn’t explain it or rationalise it to yourself, but you couldn't help but lose yourself wholly in it. Conversation ebbed and flowed, naturally dipping into topics like each other’s interests over plates of perfectly crispy fries and two vastly different flavoured milkshakes.
“I’m sorry, I don’t really listen to Metallica…” you mumbled, before popping another heavily sauced fry into your open maw. Despite running a record store, you didn’t much listen to the heavier bands. It was a rather niche market in a small town like Hawkins, where even the heartthrob Bon Jovi was considered risqué. Folks would’ve been clutching their pearls if you blasted Ride the Lightning at full volume across the store speakers. It wasn’t that you didn’t like metal, but it just didn’t appear in your usual rotation, especially in a job where you consumed so much music your ears practically throbbed at the end of the working day.
A deep, overexaggerated gasp followed, drawing your attention away from your plate and back towards the rather comical Eddie, who was now leaning to one side, his hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as if his heart physically hurt from your very tame and matter-of-fact statement. You couldn’t help but laugh, a thoroughly hearty, full bellied laugh to which Eddie responded “Sweetheart, you wound me.”
“I uh, I have heard some Black Sabbath before…you like Ozzy right? Their records do well at the store with the eh..alternative crowd”. You immediately saw the twinkle return to Eddie’s eye. “Ozzy’s the Prince of Darkness…he’s a legend…shit! I can’t believe a girl like you would know his name..but of course, you’d know more about music than most…” He leaned back into the cushioned facade of the booth, fully relaxing into the conversation. “Yeah, it’s kinda my job to know…” you smirked back, once again shovelling fries past your lips before washing them down with a mouthful of strawberry milkshake. This time you caught Eddie red-handed; his eyes drifted unabashedly to your mouth, watching how you wrapped your lips around the red and white striped plastic straw. How hints of milkshake were left behind before you swiped them away with the tip of your tongue. He was mesmerised, entirely and thoroughly bewitched by you.
Instead of embarrassing him, you kept up the charade, pretending like you didn’t notice, internally kicking your feet at capturing the attention of the infamous metalhead. Before now, you didn’t even know that was a thing you wanted, but to be truly seen is a wonderful aphrodisiac. It’s intoxicating, being sincerely appreciated and adored; to have someone look at you and actually see the person, not just the mask or the painted exterior. Eddie didn’t exactly create the best first impression, but more than made up for it on this date. His intentions were crystal clear from the beginning, and to give him credit, he never wavered in his quest, not even once. And on top of that, he made you laugh. Not just a superficial giggle, no, he made your bones rattle beneath the surface, he made your abs hurt and your cheeks ache without even trying too hard. It was refreshing, and certainly a welcome experience when dating had been an absolute hellscape in your adult life. Eddie was such a breath of fresh air, you hardly felt the ticking of the clock. That night time was measured not in hours but in heartbeats, loud and full.
The night eventually came to an end, despite stretching every minute to its last. Every step out of the diner was hesitant, every step away from Eddie harder as your heart pulled you back. It wasn’t until he offered you a ride home that the thought of going back to his place graced your mind. Perhaps it was ill-advised and rash, perhaps you were simply following your instincts, but it didn’t take much persuading to have Eddie drive back to his place, your body trembling with anticipation in the front seat.
Admittedly, you hadn’t wanted the night to end, but the further out from town that rickety van travelled, the more you began regretting your rather impulsive choices. The darkness closed in around Eddie’s vibrating van, long stretches of blackness peppered with faded ochre road markings. The rattling of metal from the depths of his humble van did little to help the anxiety welling within, a sickening unease bubbling from the depths of your stomach. Outside, the night lay black and still, the trees lining the roadside swayed with the gentle breeze. The only other sound came from Eddie’s radio, the buttery smooth tones of Prince playing on a random radio station, just loud enough to break the silence, yet not loud enough to drown out any disquiet in your mind. Still the thoughts swirled, like mist rolling in over calm hills, like smoke billowing from a newborn flame. Was this a stupid decision? It was only the first date, only a casual dinner…And despite your change of heart, it was still the infamous Eddie Munson. Who knows what you’d be walking into, with no means of transport to escape. He was a wildcard, a bit of an unknown, and you had walked blindly into the night with him. As you sat mere inches away from the man who’d charmed you into his van, you kept those anxieties inside, never once betraying your innermost fears on your face.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the crunching of gravel signalled the end of your journey, and your arrival at your inevitable destination. The night swallowed all within your eyeline, with only the faint flickering of porchlight illuminating the neighbours on either side of Eddie’s home. A trailer park drenched in night, steeped in blackness which pulled you from safety and into uncertainty. That black night somehow enhanced those most unfounded fears, and allowed your apprehension to fully drag you under.
Your feet moved of their own accord, mounting several concrete steps until they crossed the worn metal threshold. Eddie’s home immediately invited you in, despite the growing unrest bubbling within you. Everything about this seemed foreign and strange. You weren’t the type to follow men home blindly, especially after only the first date. Besides, finding a man interesting enough to occupy more of your time was rare, very rare..but this was dangerous, let alone reckless for multiple reasons. In a town of busibodies and judgemental small-minded folk, you couldn’t help but overhear the nasty rumours, the stories of poor Chrissy Cunningham who was found in this very trailer - no doubt a sordid event that haunts Eddie to this day. And though he was cleared of any wrongdoing or involvement, you couldn’t help but let that doubt creep in as you crossed the threshold. “Lead the way, Munson” you giggled, your bravado ringing utterly false and short lived. He noticed your nervous shuffling immediately, the impermanence of your gaze and shift in demeanour as you stood in the centre of the small living space, awkwardly surveying your surroundings before deciding where to perch.
“There's nothing to worry about love, okay? You're safe, I promise. We’ll throw some music on yeah?” he threw a half hearted smile your way, trying to quell any anxieties with the warmth of his smile.
You didn’t answer, just looked around at the various collectables cluttering the walls, at the couches that looked comfy and well worn in. It didn’t seem like the type of place that could see such horror, it didn’t seem like the home of a killer.
“Sorry for the mess, maid took the week off…” he laughed nervously, fixing the haphazardly strewn pillows and picking up stray socks from between the couch cushions. You could only give a half hearted chuckle, as nerves overwhelmed your anxious mind.
“Sit, you look like you’re waiting for a drug deal or something…not that kinda date sweetheart” Eddie winked, slightly putting you at ease as you sniggered with a little more enthusiasm. He was so ridiculously cheesy and somehow his larger than life personality managed to break the tension, one stupid joke seemed to calm some of the nerves building under the surface. You didn’t know why you let one vague rumour cloud your judgement, why you let whispers and idle gossip cloud the facts. You’d spent hours in his presence now, and not one red flag was raised, not one. You had to trust that your instincts were right, that he was in fact a good guy who’d just been handed a raw deal in this small, narrow minded town.
It seemed all too easy to fall into the trap of believing the fantastical tales you’d heard about Eddie, without any of the facts to back them up. It was all too easy to condemn a man you barely knew. So you summoned your bravery, and more importantly your common sense, and relaxed back into the threadbare sofa. You followed your heart here, your mind would just have to scramble to keep up. He'd been nothing but a gentleman the entire night, nothing but kind and unexpectedly gentle for a man with such a fearsome reputation. Perhaps underneath all the chains and bravado, this was Eddie.
Eddie whirred around the cosy space, plucking a vinyl record from a stacked shelf and placing it carefully onto a record player. There was something unique about the sound of the needle hitting vinyl for that first time, the artifacts and imperfections never detracted from the experience, they merely enhanced it.
“Beer?” he offered, nimbly making his way around the island and into the miniature kitchen.
You nodded, and heard rattling somewhere behind you, before he threw himself down on the couch, his movements large and embellished. Two tall bottles coated in frigid condensation sat delicately between his fingers, clinking against one another as he slumped into the worn fabric of the sofa. As he handed you the beverage, your fingers brushed against calloused knuckles. Neither one of you flinched, neither one recoiled. Your eyes met briefly, the air between you charged with all the unspoken emotion of the day. Silent yet palpable tension lingered, yet neither one of you were brave enough to break it just yet.
Eddie couldn't quite believe his luck, every touch, every stolen glance, every brush of his knee against yours felt electric and even better still, you didn’t pull away. In fact, you leaned into it, your pupils blowing wide and your body subconsciously tilting towards him. Good things didn’t come to men with a burdensome past, men with ghosts haunting their narrative, and yet there you were. It seemed surreal to have someone listen and truly hear his words. To have someone look at him with desire sparkling in their eyes, to truly lust after him and find value in his company. It had been a long time since he’d had a date, a girlfriend…his infamy had tainted the dating pool in Hawkins, had turned many against him or had people afraid of ruining their own opportunities by associating with the ‘freak’. He couldn’t help but lean in to you, mirroring your stance,crowding across the cheap aluminium diner table, head propped up against the hands that you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from. Nose so close that he could smell your subtle floral perfume, your clean and slightly fruity shampoo, the fresh lotion you’d lathered onto your skin. Eddie wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by you, to be engulfed by everything so uniquely you.
His mind hummed sweetly from the endorphins coursing through his veins, a natural high he’d never felt quite so intensely before. His steps felt weightless, even as he left that diner, when most would be disappointed with the end of the night, his heavy boot clad feet hopping around the side of his van to open your door, even as he scooted around the dented bonnet and slid into his molded leather seat, steering wheel adjusted just to his liking. Every movement buzzed, his skin tingling with excitement and a rare cheery disposition. However, the minute he sat in beside you, he could hear the cogs turning in your head, the atmosphere instantly shifting,his blood running cool beneath the surface with the change.
An all too familiar sense of unease set in. A sense that everything had changed, that his past had caught up with him once more, tainting everything good. A shaking hand reached for the worn knobs on the stereo, adjusting the volume just to drown out the deafening silence. To at least pretend that he couldn’t feel the nerves radiating from you. He could tell something had happened between that diner booth and the front seat of his van. Was it just cold feet? Second thoughts? Had he done or said something to scare you off? Or was it simply the ghosts of rumours past coming back to haunt him - to ruin yet another date, to cause yet another pretty woman to flee.
He was sick of this town’s idle gossip and hushed threats upscuttling the course of his life. His trauma had become a topic of whisper and rumour, yet nobody dared ask him for the truth. They assumed what they wanted to, and forced their opinions upon him on a daily basis. It had been at least ten years since the night he found Chrissy in the trailer, ten years and still he felt eyes upon him wherever he went. Still he felt the sting of blame and disapproval from people he grew up with, people who knew his character and still let prevailing theories overshadow the truth. Eddie hoped that his past hadn’t come back to ruin yet another relationship, but he’d seen the look on your face before. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he should’ve insisted on bringing you home, not back to his place and pushing his luck. But now, to brooch that subject felt like a monstrous task. So the van stayed true to its course, his hands gripping the leather bound wheel as if it would run away.
The walls in his humble home seemed to close in around the two of you, the already cosy space now feeling smaller and intensely claustrophobic. It wasn’t until you felt Eddie’s warmth beside you, the ice cold bottle placed gingerly between your fingers, that your mind snapped back to reality. It was only then that you met his eye, your hands hovering close. For a moment neither of you dared to move, both stuck in a rather awkward silence, that is until Eddie decided to push his luck, to make the first move and grasp onto your shaking hand. Calloused fingers wrapped around soft trembling ones, steadying them against the chilled surface of a damp beer bottle. You could barely rationalise your feelings, barely comprehend your own conflicting emotions. There was a heat bubbling within you, a growing desire to follow your earlier instincts, yet your mind warred with itself, a battle between reality and fear. A conflict of the known and unknown. Eddie was certainly an unknown, a walking mystery in a cute candy coating. You had to decide in an instant whether you were willing to take the risk.
Now was the time to pull back, to give in to the niggling doubts and recoil from Eddie’s tender touch. Yet the warmth from his hands grounded you, settling your mind on one course of action.
“You okay?” Eddie probed, his doe eyes meeting yours as your hands lingered together on that bottle. You nodded, releasing a simple “mhm”, mesmerised as he looked at you. There was something special about Eddie, something intriguing and captivating. Something that calmed your nerves with one look, one touch.
Hearing that little noise, Eddie couldn’t help but crowd your space on the couch, leaning into your sphere before whispering against the shell of your ear.
“Tonight I wanna give it all to youIn the darkness
There's so much I wanna do”
A shiver ran the length of your spine at those honeyed words. They were familiar, perhaps you’d heard them in a song before, but the way they came tumbling from his lips pulled a deeply held desire from within. Something stronger than the tingle you’d felt at the sight of his fingers drumming around his steering wheel. Something more intense than the heat that built earlier in the night as he brushed against you, under the table. And as you looked into his eyes, you noticed that they too were blown wide with lust, his pupils jet black and the size of saucers, dark and all consuming. It was the first time that day you’d seen the raw, carnal side of Eddie.
It seemed to devour the brown in his eyes, swallow the sweet, jovial part of him and replace it with an insatiable hunger. He hadn't even touched you properly yet, but you felt the ghost of his hands everywhere, your body anticipating the sensation of their calloused pads against your skin. His warmth surrounded you, enveloped you so that there was nothing else but him. Eddie stole your senses from you with only a few words, he snatched the air from your lungs with little more than a whisper. Need coiled in your gut, a restless serpent that shifted every time his eyes shifted. It seemed as if Eddie wasn't immune to the call of lust either, you could see the visible effects of desire etched into his skin. The furrow of a frustrated brow, the clench of a jaw under strain. “Touch me Eddie, before I change my mind..” you whispered, a smirk appearing on your face as you watched his eyes light up. He wasted no time in doing just that.
His hands were impossibly gentle, one moving to cradle your jaw as if you would break beneath his roughened fingertips, the other anchoring itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close. You mirrored Eddie’s actions, one hand ghosting beside your jaw, the other exploring the breadth of Eddie’s trembling body as far as you could reach without shifting too much - running the length of his denim clad thigh, feeling the muscle twitch and tense beneath your hand. The closer you got to his groin, the prettier the sound he made.
“Careful sweetheart, drivin’ me wild here..” Eddie laughed breathily, before sucking air in once more. Your hand followed its course, moving up towards his belt before settling at his crotch.
This time it was your turn to gasp, to draw breath in disbelief. You had an inkling that Eddie would be well endowed, he was tall, muscular, generally brawny…but you’d no idea how it’d feel under your hand. His erection strained against the work worn denim. It felt thick, girthy beneath your svelte fingers. You could feel the warmth escaping through the stretched fabric, the heat emanating from a cock trapped behind a cloth prison. It had been a while since you’d felt such a fine example of manhood. You took your time with him, running your fingers across the rough denim, enjoying the sounds he made while squirming beneath your gentle hand.
He expressed his frustration by closing the gap between you, his lips now only a breath away from yours. You could feel the hitch in his breath as you ran your fingers across the surface of his shaft, you felt his heart speed up, his blood pump faster until he finally captured your lips in a kiss. The kiss started soft, coaxing, both of you relaxing into the feel of each other's body. It was a chaste meeting of flesh, a pressing of lips together in a testing of the waters. Once Eddie saw how you melted into him, when he felt how you enjoyed it and even pulled him closer, only then did he feel okay deepening the kiss. Only then did he probe further with his tongue, lapping at the incredibly soft skin of your lips, before they parted and allowed him in. Before tongues danced around each other, only cementing his unrelenting need. One large palm explored the dips and curves of your body, moving from its place on your jaw, down the long column of your throat and over the crest of your breast. This time it was your turn to squirm, to wriggle beneath the tender weight of Eddie’s roaming hand. Your pulse jumped under the skin, frantic and frenzied under the surface of your throat, your heart vigorously pumping blood through your system as a response to his delightful stimuli. The room around you seemed to spin, your world tossed into a rather enjoyable chaos and all you could focus on was him.
Eddie noticed your racing heart, the thrum of your ribs beneath his fingers, rattling the solid silver rings against your chest, and was instantly concerned.
“Hey, hey, are you okay? We don't need to do this, just uh, gimme the word and I'll walk away okay? Can even drive you back to your place” Eddie softly whispered, his lips tearing themselves from yours to check in. “I’m fine, no, it’s not that…I don’t wanna go ..I’m just a little nervous I guess…”
“I’ll be gentle sweetheart, promise” Eddie winked, his grip loosening just a little.
Soft lips met willing ones once again. This time it wasn’t restrained, or innocent, this time it was passionate and hungry. Raw desire spilling from unfiltered souls. This time, all doubts and fears leeched into Eddie's skin, his warmth and good nature just reinforcing your choices. Large palms grasped your waist, hoisting you upwards and onto his lap with one swift movement. A surprised gasp left slightly swollen lips, swallowed by Eddie’s fervour.
You wriggled in his lap, finding a comfortable position while also feeling Eddie’s tumescent cock beneath you, trapped beneath layers of ragged denim and cotton, as the growls grew heavy in his chest. Each undulation of your hips against him, driving him closer and closer to madness. The blood in his body rushed directly to his groin. His hands started to wander, palms flat against your smooth skin. They felt possessive, yet strangely gentle, like Eddie was holding back for your sake. It wasn't long until one rounded the dip of your lower back, venturing boldly across the curve of your arse. Time moved almost too swiftly from that point, in a flurry of clothing and guttural moans. You reached for the hem of Eddie's shirt, pulling it across a broad chest to reveal skin littered with ink, dark artwork standing proudly against a stark canvas.
Your fingertips traced the inky black outline of a spider gracing the side of his neck, delicate and spindly. You followed the drawings downwards, each delicate touch coaxing a shiver through Eddie's exposed skin. Had it not been for the oh so prominent feeling of featherlight fingertips tracing the artwork across his body, Eddie would've sworn this was all a dream. A torturous, delicious dream. If it wasn't for the heat emanating through his jeans, a warmth spreading from your core, Eddie would've slapped himself to test his theory. But he could feel you, all too real and entirely smitten, riding his lap like he was a bucking bronco. He couldn't quite believe his luck, especially with how you met. But Eddie knew when to count his blessings, and savour every minute of this absolute miracle.
Warm hands pulled you closer, repositioning your body atop his tented lap. Brown eyes stared, silently asking permission to explore further, to go beyond the barriers of cotton and lace. Eddie’s work-toughened palms encased the underside of your breasts, tenderly cradling their weight before tracing the outline of your nipples through the thin layers of cotton and delicate black lace. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly where to touch you to coax a reaction from your pliant body.
It didn’t take long to have you a wriggling mess beneath skillful hands. To have your hips seeking out their own source of friction against a burgeoning erection. Even Eddie’s ring clad hands soon weren't enough, not enough to sate his burning desires or enough to quell your impatient nature. Though the moments in between seemed like a lifetime, it was mere seconds until gaping lips locked onto peaked nipples. Your whole frame leaned into the intense heat from an enthusiastic mouth; back arched, eyes shut to all other sensations. Even the awkwardness of fabric bunched around your chest couldn’t distract from the mastery of Eddie Munson’s mouth at work.
“Just take it off Eddie…for the love of god take it off” you panted, reaching around to pinch the clasp of your bra, before Eddie ripped the undergarment from your torso, tossing your bra and top aside in one swift move. “No need to tell me twice love” Eddie grinned, before resuming his place, suckling at your pebbled nipples while his hands enveloped your back. You could feel the cold metal of each and every ring pressed into your skin, and the path they traced across your flesh. You could feel the tip of a textured tongue sweeping, pressure building with each sloppy swipe.
Something broke within Eddie, a feral ferocity taking control. The way you held him, the grip of your fingers through the root of his wild curls, the innate reaction of your body to his unrelenting ministrations, it spurred his every move. His lips claimed every inch of exposed skin, tracing searing paths across a goosebumped surface. Your body melted beneath him, reacting viscerally to every touch, bending and moulding to the shape of his hands. Eddie had never felt so melded with another human, he’d never felt so totally wanted. Even in previous relationships, it didn’t feel quite this easy, this natural. He craved your body with every fibre of his being, longed to be closer, to feel you in the most intimate way possible. But you had to want it, you had to crave him just as much. Judging by the swell of your hips against his lap, and the muffled squeals as he devoured your flesh, Eddie had a feeling you felt the same…he just needed more definite confirmation.
“M’ not gonna last if you keep that up, shit, feels too good sweetheart” Eddie mumbled into the column of your throat. “Well then, better get to it” you giggled, your hands fidgeting with the pewter buckle clasping his all too skinny jeans closed.
Eddie’s mouth fell agape, both in shock and silent prayer. “Need a hand there sweetheart?” he huffed, the air from his nose fanning your cheek. “Don’t worry big boy, I’ve got two” you winked, laughing immediately at your ridiculous attempt at flirting.
From that first meeting in the record store, you knew that this slightly disheveled metalhead’s hands would be your undoing. Though back then you certainly never imagined that those steel clad digits would end up roaming between your legs, probing between folded flesh in pursuit of your pleasure. The cool metal of each ring affected the very texture of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface as they brushed against your inner thigh.
Eddie’s movements were restrained, methodical, his heart beating in time with his gentle hand. They were everything you imagined, and despite the evidence of manual labour etched into his skin, his fingers worked nimbly and with great skill. You hadn’t expected him to hold back, to touch you with such reverence, a silent worship in smooth, measured movements. The heel of his palm provided a little friction as his fingers worked their way within, gathering fluid to ease their journey. Eddie’s tender onslaught didn’t cease until you were practically begging for relief, until he could feel your body humming beneath his hands, the coiled tension evident through your skin, your cunt thoroughly slick and ready for him.
With a quick, silent nod, a gentle pop and an unavoidable scrunch of your nose as you lowered yourself into his lap, Eddie just about came undone in a single moment. He’d never heard a more wondrous noise than the breathy little gasp that escaped from your lips as your body settled into the feeling, the sting of your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. He’d truly never heard anything sweeter.
Even as the springs creaked beneath the both of you, a strained metallic whine, the threadbare couch cushions rough under his skin, Eddie couldn’t help but be overtaken with warmth. A fuzzy bloom burned deep within his chest at the very sight of your breathless mouth hanging open. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, sat in his cluttered living room with the most beauteous creature perched atop him, joined skin to tingling skin, flesh to sweat veiled flesh. In that moment, there was nothing more perfect, nothing Eddie wanted more than the person nestled into his bare body. And to feel so wanted in return, it was intensely intoxicating.
Little did he know, a similar heat bloomed within you, the same affection growing with each tender caress,each minute shift of the thick cock within you. In that room, there was only Eddie and the sensation of him engulfing you. He was everywhere - buried deeply within, thighs firm and steady beneath you, grounding you to that spot. His hands held you close, fingers spread wide across the span of your back, grasping for an anchor to reality.
His breath fanned your throat, hearts racing as the two of you settled into that initial union.
As soon as Eddie could think clearly, as soon as he could vocalise his satisfaction, broken words came tumbling from a slack jaw.
“Jesus christ love, you were practically made for me…so good…so perfect…fuuuck” Eddie grunted, his head thrown back onto the couch cushions, mind far away from himself.
Like the tide, the sharp edge of the initial sting subsided, ebbing into a subtle yet satisfying ache. Eddie was lost under a wave of bliss, until he felt soft fingers guiding his eyes back to you, not wanting him to miss a thing. Softened brown eyes took in every detail, the flush adorning your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell with each laboured breath. But as his eyes wandered the span of your body, Eddie became transfixed by the spot where your bodies met, a perfect entwining of radiant skin and writhing muscle. A union he never expected to happen but certainly delighted in. The glistening sheen of precum was painted across his tumescent cock as it disappeared into your body; Eddie knew it wouldn't be a lengthy session but christ, he'd go again and again, all night if you needed him to. It was worth every ounce of physical effort for this view, for the sensation of your body wrapped around him.
He let you control the pace initially, not wanting to push his luck by totally giving in to his feral desires. It took self-control (and a lot of it) to restrain his hips from moving of their own accord; to stop them pistoning at a monstrous rate. Instead, Eddie used your hips as leverage; guiding you up and down in smooth languid undulations, torturously slow at first, then picking up a little quicker when your face relaxed into the feeling. The record player in the corner rang through the silence, a driving beat that measured Eddie’s tempo, a steady pulse that his hips naturally fell in line with. The texture of vinyl ambrosia to your ears, perhaps even more so than the sound of Eddie’s enjoyment in the moment.
You could feel Eddie’s hips stutter beneath you occasionally, giving away the extent of his desperation for release. You knew he wouldn’t last long, so increased your pace slightly.
“Jesus Christ, I could never get enough of this…don’t stop, please for the love of god, don’t stop…” through ragged breath, Eddie pleaded. Every miniscule movement was heightened, each squeeze and contraction of your body, every deep breath, every ragged moan reverberated through his very soul. He’d never felt anything like it, it wasn’t just the pleasure of fucking, it was something else entirely. It was how thoroughly you gave yourself over to the experience, over to him. It was the way you looked at him, your eyes hazy and heavy yet transfixed by him. In that moment, he was your world, the source of your pleasure and the person cradling you in an entirely vulnerable state. To have so much trust placed in him, to see such beauty unguarded and raw, it touched Eddie more than he ever thought possible, more than any meaningless tryst ever had. To have someone see past his chequered reputation and judge him for his character alone, to put their faith and their body in his hands, there was no intimacy quite as profound. These were the thoughts that pushed Eddie over the edge towards blissful release,these were the thoughts that swirled as his hips rutted uncontrollably upwards, trimmed nails clawing at your skin, sure to leave their mark. Though his mind wasn't so clouded as to chase his pleasure at your expense, so at the last minute, Eddie reached a hand between you, applying pressure just where it was needed and dragging you along with him.
