I welcome thee to my blog, where chaos is severed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My blog is a safe space for everybody, and while I write mostly x fem! readers I will look into writing more gn and male fics in the future when I know I have further knowledge to execute them.
About me:
My name is Valyne, but I also go by Grimmie! My house is Slytherin and I go by She/her. I'm a huge harry potter fan, but I still have a long way to go. Just know, I'll never write fanfic without doing information, especially if there are events that are different book-wise rather than movie-wise.
I’m a full time college student, whom for some reason thought that coding and scripting would be my major. (Yet I’m horrible at math) I also work full time at a medical office. (Yes, I am very much burnt out). If you put in a request, please be patient with me, I only have Thursdays to work on any writing. Sometimes I manage to find time but with both school and work it’s hard, all I wanna ever do is sleep after.
The fandom I will mostly write for is Harry Potter and Wednesday, as it is my current addiction. Certain things I will not write about are Rape, Suicide, Incest, and other triggering events which I will put out further in the future. If you feel like you have a request, but don’t know if it is on the no gonna happen list. Submit it and I’ll respond whether it is or not. I do know at the moment it is currently vague, but more will be added soon.
Request: Closed/Open
Rules
Slytherin Gang Taglist Form
Marauders Era Taglist Form
Lightning Era Taglist
From the book Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD:
Putting a coat on the back of a chair by the door is fine, but if you prefer, use coat hooks and a large catch-all basket for dropping keys, hats, gloves.
Small bookcase end-table next to the couch to store craft projects, books, and other things being worked on for easy access.
Add a storage unit near the dining room table to transition between eating and working there.
Daily toiletry items should be stored in a basket that you can move easily
Extra toiletries and medicine cabinet items go in open shelf/basket storage so they can be seen and used easily. If items no longer fit, purge the excess. Don’t obscure the view!
If you disrobe in the bathroom, place a tall hamper in there.
Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.
POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.
CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)
A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!
You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple..
The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you.
You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot.
They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored.
When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap.
But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered.
“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”
You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.
He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms.
Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny.
He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.
“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”
He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”
He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private.
Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back.
You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin.
It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him.
But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned.
Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave.
But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape.
You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much.
Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all.
Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable.
Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows.
“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself.
But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures.
When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children.
But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun.
You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat.
You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept.
It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know.
He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished?
He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst.
“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead.
You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far.
Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else?
He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell.
Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it.
“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”
“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”
“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”
Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again.
You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes.
You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort.
When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine.
You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening.
For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox.
But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you.
He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands.
“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”
His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners.
“No,” he says.
“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”
“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”
You look up at him. “Why?” you ask.
There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her.
“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”
You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth.
He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”
You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod.
He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet.
“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers.
“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”
He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that.
“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”
You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else.
There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done.
When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you.
Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face.
“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”
You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there.
“It’s just a bruise,” you say.
He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head.
“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”
You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”
His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”
“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”
Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.
“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?”
You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear.
The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage.
How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house.
“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”
“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says.
“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”
“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts.
“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”
“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“
“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”
“But—“ Kagha says.
“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled.
He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha.
Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference.
“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says.
“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”
Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same.
Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her.
“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”
“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”
Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.
You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.
The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.
Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator.
His expression softens, looking almost apologetic.
“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you.
Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl.
His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal.
“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”
You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again.
A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door.
You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion.
You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves.
The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you.
The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you.
So why had you stayed so long?
The fear of being captured again, perhaps.
Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while.
But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality.
No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you.
That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life.
A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin.
He’s just…
He’s everything you wish you could be.
He’s everything you wish you could have.
But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly.
But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep.
It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you.
The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet.
You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco.
You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame.
You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood.
You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you.
“Is this a dream?” You ask.
His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you.
“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks.
Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever.
“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”
You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”
His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”
You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”
“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”
“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”
He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says.
“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say.
He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”
“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”
“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”
There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you.
You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you.
“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through.
“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”
“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head.
“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”
You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you.
“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”
You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help.
“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask.
“You wish to leave?” he asks.
“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”
You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak.
“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”
“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative.
It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”
You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you.
Halsin…wants you? You?
You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever.
“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”
“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”
“What?” you say.
“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”
You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours.
“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”
You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment.
Halsin loves you.
The bear has fallen for the fox.
And he wants you by his side.
It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him.
You will protect him.
And he will protect you.
“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”
“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”
The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous.
“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”
The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap.
Where he kisses you for the very first time.
May the oak father bless you with countless others.
summary: A year and a half after you tryst with a certain ghoul, you find yourself back at their show, this time hurting and yearning.
warnings: if you thought it couldn't get filthier... It did. Porn without plot. Plot? What plot? Okay maybe a little plot. Blood kink, blood play, choking kink, breath play, oral (f receiving), dom sub dynamics, bdsm dynamics, devil worship, lust, pure unadulterated sin, spit kink, spanking, unprotected sex (raw dogging the devil is cool and all but like fucking wrap it up), bruising, sacrilege, teasing, jealousy, pure filth, this is not a house of the holy. 18+. mdni
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It had been a year since that night, a year of your mind being clouded, a year of trying to find something even remotely akin to what you had lived through that fateful night at the show Lilly dragged you to. The first week or so after was lovely, honest. You had sent him a message and though he took a minute to reply, he was present, then as messages slowed, anxiety ate away at you gently, leaving you feeling a little inadequate. What if you were just for fun? You had drank together, he got his dick wet, you got the best sex of your life, and that was that right? But with every little quip he sent in reply, your heart would still swell and the bats in your stomach would start flapping their wings once again. You tried not to get too excited, Eddie was… a rockstar. He was always on the road, always touring, always away. You were stupid to expect anything more than a one-night stand right? But when you received an innocent message stating that he wished you were there, your heart all but stopped. No matter how many replies you drafted out, they all felt wrong. Either too overstated or too blasé. Besides, he couldn’t mean it, right? He’s certainly got a repertoire of people he pulls backstage or into the greenroom and this just so happened to be his unlucky night.
In all your anxiety, you had completely forgotten to reply, leaving the musician on read and by the time you noticed, you were too ashamed to apologise, besides, he’d certainly gotten his fill of sex throughout the tour – not that you cared. Regardless, there was a sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, so when Lilly informed you that they were back in town for a show in a few weeks, your heart fell through into your stomach, and nausea rippled through you, reaching your throat and choking you. You couldn’t catch your breath.
“I know they’re not your favourite band, but you could at least pretend to be happy for me.” Lilly harumphed out when she noticed you weren’t even feigning enthusiasm like you did the year prior. It wasn’t just that… If you were being honest, Eddie’s enthusiasm got you to love some songs, his ramblings captivating you, but the lack of communication left a bitter taste in your mouth, and it had an even darker grip on your heart.
“S’not that Lil.” You sigh, a melancholic note overshadowing any other emotion you tried to draw out into the open. “S’just, last time… It was great until it wasn’t.” You sheepishly admit. Lilly didn’t know the raunchy details, she didn’t want to because seeing your neck was all the information she needed. It was understood that you had found someone that night that you could have taken home, didn’t, and you had been bitter ever since, a darkness in the heart of your love and it wasn’t letting up. You’d never let your best friend know who you bedded, and just how attached you’d become. Attachment was a recipe for getting hurt, and you promised yourself, never again.
That was the problem though, you made yourself promises you couldn’t keep.
“Well, whatever it is, can’t you,” she sighed and turned to you, “can’t you just put it behind you and come enjoy the show with me? Please?” Her big pleading eyes met yours, and how were you supposed to say no? She looked like a kicked puppy, and so with a long exasperated sigh, you nodded, allowing her this small victory, agreeing to go to this show with her. Maybe it would be your chance to prove to the masked musician that you were doing fine without him — no matter how big of a lie that was.
So about two and a half weeks later when the fateful day came, your emotions were dancing Musetta’s Waltz, waves of nausea coming and going based on how much you dared pay attention to them. Part of you was praying that Eddie had opted to join some other band in the meantime, but as reality would have it, the world was against you. It wouldn’t give you a moment to rest, because as soon as the velvet curtain dropped to reveal the band, your eyes caught sight of the slim and alluring frame that haunted your dreams with promises unfulfilled. A foreign emotion bubbled in your chest and you nearly choked back a sob, avoiding everyone’s gaze, eyes tearing away from your ghoul under all circumstances. Part of you wished his presence wasn’t so electrifying, it would have been easier.
Little did you know that Eddie was trying to make it difficult to avoid him, his suggestive actions always directed towards you, every roll of his hips left him moaning and yet fuming all the same. There was a reason he was the fire ghoul, his demeanour was too unpredictable and his temper fiery. He was a real firecracker and nobody could tell when he’d explode, now with your eyes avoiding him, it was setting his veins alight, flames lapping at his skin, embers of anger maintained far longer than they should have been, kindling added with every break of eye contact. A question loomed over Eddie’s head, unbeknownst to you, about why you were here if you were so adamant about snubbing him, to give him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t like he had been the one to ignore you- you had ignored him... You were aware of it too, you were aware that it was your fault the two of you were no longer speaking, but it was to protect yourself, right? Unfortunately protecting yourself had its side effects, ones which included the poor ghoul on stage getting hurt in the aftermath.
You couldn’t deny that the ghouls were talented, nor could you deny that your heart remained still while you watched them, but most notably, you couldn’t hide the emotions written on your face, the slight downturn of the corners of your lips left very little to be imagined. How you wished more than anything that you could cower behind a resting bitch face like you normally would – like you had last year – but unfortunately it wasn’t that easy. While the band played through their heavy songs your face remained stone cold, unfeeling, your eyes hollow, lacking the spark that the masked man on stage had caught the year prior. There wasn’t a spark of fire, no hatred underneath your gaze, no, you just seemed empty, a shell of the person you were before and all that would be Eddie’s fault. There was a desperation to every movement, a desperation to see that same fire inside you once again even if he has to fuck it back into you. It was an all-consuming desire that the ghoul could not shake, one that devoured him from the inside out.
You watched the band, eyes gravitating more to the rhythm guitarist this time. He seemed to be less cocky, more party tricks than that of your favourite ghoul, less suggestive, but nonetheless pleasant to keep an eye on. He was the furthest from you and so it made him an ample distraction from the masked man who all but made it his mission to capture your attention once again. The distraction was wonderful, and it was almost effective, almost. The moment one of the slower songs started, people’s lighters coming up to light up the stadium, you nearly lost all composure, your resolve crumbling like marble pillars, your heart cracked through, and this was the final nail in the coffin. Your eyes gravitated towards Eddie, tears brimming your eyes as you finally found the courage to look at him. If he were any weaker, his heart would have stopped, he would have fallen to his knees, because the look in your eyes was enough to shatter souls, and he was certain it shattered his. Satanus, he was lucky he didn’t mess up, his vision blurring behind his mask. He was solely relying on his motor skills and muscle memory but he dared not look away from you, instead, you watched as he kneeled in front of you, playing his heart out, pointing to himself to emphasise certain lyrical phrasings. It was this that did you in, the morcels of your heart shattering into pieces that you couldn’t possibly imagine putting back together.
The two of you had your eyes locked, or at least that’s what it seemed like, the rest of the band falling away into the background, as did the crowd, everyone singing along but you, you who tried to give a semblance of a smile to the man who had taken you to the greenroom the previous year but the grimace that your face contorted into felt awkward, uncomfortable. The embers of his eyes searching deep into yours, a fire lighting in the pit of your stomach, the flames licking up to your heart and trying to heal the wounds left in your chest. You watched him closely, a scared animal, cowering away as the predator tried to coax you into his voracious maw, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes from the imminent danger. Unfortunately for him, as the song came to an end, you shook your head, blinking back tears, and you were back to eyeing his band member from a distance – the one whom Lilly had told you was nicknamed Phantom – it was safer this way, keep your distance, don’t get hurt. Look but don’t touch, admire but don’t get involved. You could have sworn the man in front of you let out a guttural scream from behind his mask, but you couldn’t tell, all you knew was that he slammed his hand over the pick-ups of his guitar in time to the next song, a dissonant sound emitting from the amp, one that perfectly reflected how you felt inside. Dissonant, disconnected, yet melding with everything and everyone else.
Unlike last time, the show dragged on until you couldn’t stand it any longer, your oesophagus closing up with every passing song, choking you until you couldn’t stand it anymore. No amount of water would help you, no amount of apologies would save you, and no amount of kisses would mend your wounds. You felt completely enveloped in despair, an all-consuming sadness pooling in your veins. As much as you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter, it did. You never did like one-night stands and partaking in one with a rockstar was clearly a recipe for disaster, did you even think it would be any different? That he would slip you his number and you’d fall in love? Unlikely. That’s why you were here, right? Closure or something, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. As much as you yearned for closure, your heart yearned for the confirmation that in some way or another, he was still yours, that he was with you always, but it was less than probable. The cold that enveloped your heart ran deep, icy protrusions protecting the organ from further hurt. It would take a lot to crack it, but it would also take a lot to completely sever the ties you had with the ghoul, no matter how small they might have been – sometimes the smallest knots are the hardest to undo.
If any onlooker were to have paid an iota of attention to you and the fire ghoul, they would have noticed a chemistry there, some tension that was pulled so tight that it was mere moments from snapping. Every roll of his hips had you wishing he’d roll them into you, but your wishes were a trigger for your anger, your sadness, your deep-seated sorrow. Likewise, every time he would make sweet gestures or try to reach his hand out towards you for you to take, someone would beat you to it, reaching for him in your place, leaving his hand retracting faster than a lightning strike. People often poked fun at him edging the crowd, leaving them wanting more, but what nobody accounted for was that it was actually for someone. The booming of Mountain’s bass drum was no match for the sound of two hearts breaking in unison, and it never would be.
In retaliation, you huffed, pushing past your best friend with a weak apology, empty even, and headed towards stage left, the fire ghoul’s jaw clenching as you pushed away from his side. The embers behind his mask burned with fury, his gaze following your figure – a predator after his prey. Regardless of what was going on with him, you brushed it off, rolling your eyes so hard they could have fallen out of your head. With your decision, the ghoul seemed to throw himself around far more carelessly, making an erratic show for the crowd, trying to harness his unbridled rage into something more, something bigger than himself. He wasn’t mad at you though, no, he was mad at himself. Your attention drifted towards Phantom, your eyes softening as you were met with the tall figure, his hips rolling into the air, guitar neck pressed up next to his head as he chugged through a heavy riff. You offered him a soft smile, a phantom barely there, and he seemed to cock his head at you in acknowledgement. His eyes settled on you, his nose gently scrunching, a smile returned your way although you couldn’t see it.
Phantom was captivating in his own regard, his hips softly rolling forward, smoothly, and for a second you allowed your mind to wander, what if he rolled his hips into you instead of the fire ghoul? No, that was ridiculous. You brushed that thought off as quickly as it came, but there wasn’t any harm in flirting, was there? After all, it would be innocent, just a little something to feel wanted, desired, to fill that hole that your masked ghoul left in your chest. You watched intently as he swung the guitar around carelessly, playing it with his hand above the neck instead of underneath, your gaze unwavering. The spry ghoul sure had his moments, you had to give him that, and the energy that buzzed between the two of you was quite something, but it wasn’t quite enough.
The intro to your favourite song soon rang through the concert hall, the soundscape entirely enveloped by the sheer aggression of the song, and as it reached the bridge, building you up just to let you down softly, Phantom slung his guitar over his shoulder, his foot coming up on the speaker in front of you, and he bent down far. His masked face mere inches from yours had your breath hitching, but it had someone else fuming. With a crooked finger, Phantom beckoned you closer as he backed up, once again lifting his guitar in the air, sensually grinding into thin air as he played through the repetitive riff. It was difficult to peel your eyes away and that in particular left your precious fire ghoul in a brutal rage. You barely noticed when he stalked closer, your focus too taken with with the taller of the two.
Before either of you could register what was happening, your ghoul leaned up against Phantom, head nuzzling into his shoulder, hip rutting forward, his arm snaking around to the taller’s chest, trailing up to his neck and squeezing. While it seemed gentle, it was a clear warning, a tad possessive, domineering even but Eddie would never admit it, how could he when there was nothing but pure unadulterated hurt and rage coursing through his veins? Swiftly, he bit the taller’s shoulder, causing him to jump at the contact – it wasn’t in the plan, none of this was, but Eddie needed you to look at him the same way he needed air to breathe. He was desperate for your attention, acting out in any way he saw fit just to get an ounce of it. It was like trying to get a drop of water during a drought, and you were trying so hard not to give him any and yet it didn’t appear to be working. You weren’t able to keep your eyes from him; however, his head rolled against Phantom, and Phantom carefully leaned into him in turn, his back arching gently so as not to hurt himself in the process.
There was a certain intimacy the two displayed that set you alight and it shouldn’t have, it shouldn’t have made your brain swirl with dirty thoughts, nor with jealousy, but here you were. Part of you was still fuming, however, you didn’t want to pay attention to the fire ghoul, you wanted to forget him but the kindling that ignited the fire between your thighs wouldn’t let up. Your eyes, no matter how tired and weary they were from the past year, found themselves gravitating towards the shorter of the pair, the flirtatious glint behind them disappearing into the dark of your pupils – a black hole absorbing all light it touches, that is what Eddie did to you. You watched him intently as he ground his hips into the taller, accentuating every word with a rut forward, head dropping forward as the frontman let out a breathy scream from centre stage. Why did the ghoul need your attention so badly that he had to gravitate towards your side? Why couldn’t he let up? Why did he have to have every ounce of your attention?
You struggled to fight your own emotions, your heart wanting to forgive him, your brain stubborn, stuck in a warzone of overthinking and self-doubt, each thought going off like a bomb.
Little did you know that the ghoul in question was growing rather frantic, desperate for you to look at him like you once had. He wanted- no, he needed that connection with you. It wasn’t ego, it wasn’t for a trophy, but it was completely selfish, his yearning reaching a breaking point. He was desperate for your attention, his eyebrows knitting together under his mask, his actions more and more erratic, like those of a feral cat. His last resort was going down on his knees below Phantom, dropping to the ground to play the guitar at him, shredding his fingers in the process. His bandmate whipped his head around at this, contorting his body to face the shorter and he rolled his hips forward boldly despite the knowledge that this was not part of the well-practised routine. It was a confrontation for later, but it mattered not to you, or Eddie, at this moment. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two, the energy electrifying, but mostly, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to the man who had fucked the idea of a one-night stand out of you the year prior. His presence was all-consuming, even when you so desperately wanted to hate him, though was it your place to hate him? You swallowed down hard, your spit lodging itself halfway down your throat in an uncomfortable lump yet you didn’t know whether to focus on that of the slow and growing ache between your thighs. Your breathing suddenly shallowed out, and you wished it was a product of the ghoul’s teasing. Instead, you wanted out, you needed out, but simultaneously you wanted your out to be in his arms. You wanted to plant yourself firmly in his grasp, firmly in his loving hold, firmly under his body, as he fu- No!
As Eddie got up from his knees, he swung his legs around, his body contorting towards you, his being lurching forward, desperate for your attention, desperate to be near you. His head thumped against the ground before he flung himself violently backwards - in turn, your body lurched forward, scared he was going to hurt himself. You cursed yourself for the small moment of weakness, a flicker of angry hope in you, hope that he hadn’t noticed. Unfortunately for you, he had. He propped himself onto his knees before springing back up, his body thrashing to the music before he slowed, head listing to the side as he observed you for any micro reaction. Carelessly, he flung his guitar pick into the crowd, bringing his hand to his spare picks, tossing them away in a “they love me, they love me not” fashion until he reached his very last one, one that he leaned over the barricade for. His arm extended towards you, his hand motioning for you to come hither, to give him your hand. Regardless of whether or not it was your hand he was after, fans reached out, swallowing you into a pit of frantic motions, desperate touches, and a fiery passion behind their every move.
Eddie gave them no chance to stand their ground, batting their hands away from your own, leaning forward until he was certain he would fall off the stage, his fingers gently beckoning you forward. Your eyes welled up and the only thing you knew to do was point to yourself as you watched him nod in confirmation. Your arm extended out, fingertips uncurling to welcome his own, the etched pick being securely and firmly placed in your grasp. The second his warm skin made contact with your own, your heart lurched in your chest, catching itself halfway up your throat as you fisted his last guitar pick. He didn’t care, he would bleed for you a hundred times over if it meant proving himself to you and that’s what he did.
With a sanguinary force, the very man before you threw himself back into the performance but there was something off, the upstrokes sounding more muffled than usual. As you watched his hands, it dawned on you that he was playing without a pick, the brass wires tearing at his skin, the thin upper strings sawing into his calloused fingers. He made a show to abuse this guitar, eyes transfixed on you, the fiery passion burning a hole into your soul. You felt oddly seen, and you could just envision the devilish thoughts swirling in your ghoul’s brain. The harder he pushed himself, the more it physically showed, a small tear in his pinky that sprinkled a crimson liquid across the cream body of his Stratocaster.
The longer the song ran, the stronger his desperation grew, his strumming and fingering becoming far more erratic. It hit a breaking point when he began painting the off-white surface red, the embers behind his goggles transfixed on you, unwavering – you’d be lying if you said the scene before you didn’t go straight to your core, a small whimper leaving your lips, bottom lip trembling with want. All the anger released itself from your body and you were left with nothing but a yearning for his touch and a deep-seated sadness that would only budge under the condition that the ghoul held you in his arms. You were hypnotised by the fire ghoul, your wide eyes unmoving from his body, watching as he spread his life source across the body of his instrument. Part of you deeply yearned to reach out and touch him, but your shallow breaths were a giveaway enough for him, a scared little animal anticipating its bitter end – yet the way you would be devoured would wind up being much different than what you could have expected.
You held the guitar pick like it was your lifeline, a thin carmine string tying you to Eddie, tying you into his life, and tangling around his heart. Every single strum, every stomp, every concealed look that was specifically pointed in your direction went straight to your core, a fire igniting a deep-seated need within you, one that you haven’t been able to satisfy yourself for the past year. You yearned to have a taste of him on your tongue much like he yearned to hear your moans reach his ears, his and only his. In that moment you realised that that man would bleed for you, and he had in fact made himself bleed for you. There was something about that realisation that made your stomach churn, heat steadily pooling into your cunt, a new desire awakening. You couldn’t help but stare, your tongue coming out to meet your bottom lip, swiping across it slowly before you sucked your lip between your teeth. You’d be lying if you said that seeing a man shed blood over you didn’t turn you on. It wasn’t an idea you had entertained previously but suddenly there was nothing that would be able to match such a romantic yet tragic gesture.
Your breath caught at how carelessly he acted, part of you dying to take care of the wound, your brain and heart both finding common ground for once – you wanted to take care of him, to mend the bloody catastrophe that he pushed past its limit. Lucifer in hell, how you wanted to drop down in front of him and dote on him by sucking his long fingers into your mouth and tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood. You wanted to lap your tongue over his wound and get a good taste of him before dropping down to – No! You stopped yourself mid-thought, your face burning hotter than the flames of hell. You stopped yourself dead in your tracks, a deep shame burning into the pit of your stomach as it slowly set your desire ablaze. Why was such a grotesque and hazardous show of emotions adding fuel to the low burning flame, kindling for the fire that was just about to snuff out? Why was it that the man turned your insides liquid? You swallowed down a lump in your throat, were you that easy?
Your mind and heart were fighting against you, and it seemed your body was slowly betraying you as well, your anger slowly unravelling to leave nothing but your vulnerability in the wake. In desperation, you tried to hold onto the anger and hurt, but with every single song and dance, your cold heart softened, the ice that encased it slowly melting away due to the fire ghoul’s heat. You bit your cheeks softly, hollowing them unintentionally, and satanus, did your ghoul notice, throwing his head back in a groan, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. He shot you a look through his tinted goggles, raising his guitar slightly, flashing the crowd the YOUSUCK sticker that coated the back of his pristine instrument, but if his pointed look towards you was any indication of what was going on, your eyes trailed down his body and met with- oh.
It had only taken a split second for you to register what was going on before he pointed at you directly, nodding his head in confirmation. You weren’t imagining anything, and it wasn’t like he was allowing you the opportunity to leave your mind to wander. Within the same instant, he lowered his guitar back down before continuing on with his performance, always coming back to you, rutting his hips into his guitar - at one point he sauntered to their bassist, Rain, playing his solo as he leaned into the taller ghoul, head perching on his shoulder softly as he pressed his hips forward, his movements barely noticeable to the average onlooker, but you knew by the way his chest heaved that he just needed a hair more friction than he was able to publicly give himself. An ounce of relief that only you could provide him with but you were none the wiser. You wanted desperately to cling to this idea that you were just a lay, it would have been easier to hate him, easier to deal with the pang of hurt that stung your heart to this day if it so happened that you meant nothing to him.
The truth was a hard pill to swallow, but maybe it was one that would sew your heart back up in a sort of Frankenstein way, and maybe, just maybe it was what you needed. Maybe this sort of haphazard way to mend your heart was not the perfect bandage or the cleanest set of stitches, but there was an attempt, an attempt so filled with love and desperation that no surgical precision could mend it in such a gentle and delicate way. It wasn’t a cold and callus, unfeeling surgery, no, it was warm, and tender, and it had just as much power to rebuild you as it did to destroy you.
As the show drew to a close, your heart found itself in your throat, your fears manifesting themselves in your chest, a nausea coming over you in waves. Would your ghoul come find you and tell you off? Would he leave you without closure? Or would he confess his feelings? You felt like there was very little room for you to breathe. Between the heavy tension that drew you to Eddie and the knowledge that he was a busy rockstar; you were like magnets resisting a painful pull. On one hand, you tried to tear yourself away, knowing the hurt and pain it would cause if you both violently snapped against each other, on the other, you wanted to slowly give in to the pull, succumbing to the desire you both held for one another. You found yourself suffocating in a sea of desire and anxiety, a concoction that was locked in a dangerous tango. You didn’t know whether you were breaking your own heart or if he was, if you were overreacting or if this was reasonable.
Soon enough the lead singer announced the last song, two ghouls coming up smoothly beside Eddie, bursting into song before letting out a massive stomp as the pyrotechnics set off, the unison creating an explosive echo through the concert hall. You watched intently, your eyes starting to well with tears upon realising that this might just be the last time you’d see your ghoul. You couldn’t stand that thought, and though your core burned with a desperate need for him, your heart yearned for his loving touch, but your mind was on fire, screaming at you to get away. You figured that if this kept up, your heart would be left in more morsels than you had come with it in, your ghoul having ground it into a fine powder.
You excused yourself to anyone in your vicinity as you tried to dash off, and unluckily for you, the fire ghoul quickly noticed, making a show of himself as he sauntered to a roadie, whispering something incoherent to him. The shorter nodded before darting behind the heavy stage curtain, disappearing from view.
You dared rush off to the bathroom as they finished off the evening, the last few notes ringing out as your feet connected with the velour-coated stairs that would wind their way up to the second-floor washroom. The loud screeching of feedback from the fire ghoul’s guitar resonated through the concert hall as you burst through the washroom door, the thick metal isolating the sound so that it was barely audible. You couldn’t be there anymore, it was too much all at once. It was too much to handle, too much to take in. Your head was screaming to get away while your heart was begging you to stay but you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t allow yourself to get swallowed up by those big doe eyes of his. Maybe the ghoul would have an explanation, maybe he’d try to charm you into bed with him – and the worst part was that it would work.
There was a primordial need that burned through you, visions of the poor dishevelled man rutting into this guitar the same way he rut into you a year ago burned into your retinas. You quickly turned the nearest faucet on, trying desperately to splash some cold water into your face, something to soothe the heat that permeated your body. It was a heat that crept up your neck and seared itself into the apples of your cheeks.
“FUCK!” You cried, hands clutching the porcelain sink so tight that you thought you’d surely break the ceramic. Your cry was met with the creak of the heavy door you had come through just moments ago, the hinges sobbing with the need to be oiled up - neglected - just like you had been. You wanted to tell the person to go away but you thought better of it until you heard the lock click into place, a fear seizing your poor frantic heart, the alarming noise ripping through your ears. It called to you so much that you turned on your heel only to be met with the very ghoul you were desperate to avoid. All fear drained away, your throat bobbing as you swallowed down whatever saliva was left in your mouth, his presence causing it to completely run dry.
“Did you really fucking think I was going to let you leave like that, my pet?” His muffled voice hissed through his mask. Oh. There was a certain amount of anger clinging to it, an anger to mask the hurt that pricked at his poor heart. His shoulders seemed tense, the embers behind his goggles glowing a faint red, a fire in his soul, ready to set everything in his way ablaze. He swore there and then that if anyone were to get in the way of you, he would ensure that they rued their very existence. He stalked towards you, the heels of his boots clacking against the tiled floor, eyes transfixed on your very figure. He watched as you rested your hands on the sink, your nerves eating you alive. You tried to size Eddie up but you found yourself failing, the disadvantage lying in being unable to see his eyes. You weren’t able to read him, but he was able to read you, calculate every move, and execute it near perfectly had he wanted to. You were in his territory and he would take advantage of it as much as he could - while he knew the terrain, you had made the fatal move of not studying the playing field as diligently he had and now you were caught.
You refused to answer, chest heaving, eyes darting from side to side as you tried to find an escape, but it was too late, he closed the distance between the two of you, his warm hand gripping your chin tightly, tilting your head to look at him as he came to stand toe to toe with you.
“Answer me, did you fucking think I was about to let you leave like that?” His voice was even and unwavering, a certain lust-filled venom lacing itself between each word, dancing across his sharp tongue.
“Fuck you.” You spat at him, droplets of saliva connecting with his mask as you did, but it only caused him to smirk from under his balaclava. The bastard was smug, you’d hand him that. When he wanted something, he went after it, he fixated on it, and he would claim it. You didn’t understand why his fixation was set on you, the toughest prize, you were just some person he met last tour, just some person he had a good time with once, a conquest. It meant nothing. At least, it was easier to tell yourself that.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He cages you in with his body, his hips pressing flush into yours as his hand slips down your chin and to your neck, his big hand squeezing it gently at first, a small tug pulling you in. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, instinctively succumbing to his action, the desire pooling into your very core. It felt as if molten lava had replaced the very blood in your veins, your head suddenly spinning with an animalistic need. “Bet nobody has fucked you as good as I have, have they pet?”
“You’re fucking full of it.” You growl out at him, trying to tear yourself away and yet you find yourself leaning into his touch - it contrasted greatly with the way his poison words flitted through the air, it was soft, tender, like he didn’t want to hurt you despite the intensity of his actions.
“So you have fucked someone else while I was away.” He hummed, the embers glowing brighter as his eyes fixated upon you. He was like a predator sizing up his next meal, cold and callus calculations filtering through his mind as his hand squeezed your throat just a fraction tighter, eliciting a soft gasp from you, your lips parting. At your lack of answer, his left hand come to your waist as he spins you around, slamming your back into the adjacent wall. You both groaned, bodies instinctively pressing to each other. “So you did, didn’t you?” You watch his eyes narrow before his warm hand slips down your body slowly, his right hand firmly finding home against your throat. “Well then pet, let me show you exactly who this pussy,” his hand reached for your clothed cunt, “belongs to.” Your breath hitched, hips involuntarily bucking into his hand. You didn’t expect your body to betray you so easily, and yet here you were, putty in his hands.
Your pathetic whimper bounced off the cement walls of the washroom, the insulation so poor, but the reverb so sinful. His dark chuckle filled the small room, a small tsk tsk noise flowing out from behind his mask. You couldn’t help it, your heart suddenly stuttered more than you could have anticipated. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Eddie’s touch or the way he paid attention to you. Even if it was only to last one more night, you reconciled that it was one more night you were willing to take. Soft moans slipped past your barred teeth, lips quivering at every little twitch of the musician’s fingers. Slowly, the ghoul let go of your throat, sliding his hand down your chest, squeezing your breast and fondling your nipples through your shirt, eliciting the most pornographic moan he’d heard in a year, and that included the filth that he tried to get himself to watch for even an ounce of relief. He kept sliding them lower and lower before he slowly started dropping down, clothed lips ghosting over your navel, his knees sinking into the cold floor. He kissed down your hips, his hands coming down to your thighs, his slender fingers digging into the fat, his grip hard enough to bruise.
“So impatient, aren’t we, sweetheart?” His laugh was as intoxicating as his teasing and you were left completely speechless at how forward he could be even under the circumstances. “Now, how about we show you exactly who you belong to?” The rhetorical question hung in the air as he pressed chaste kisses down to your pubis, stopping just above where you wanted him most. He toyed with the hem of your plaid wool skirt - and god what that innocent schoolgirl look did for him. The way the need to corrupt you filled his senses was impossible to fight, setting his body ablaze. “Let me show you exactly who this fucking cunt belongs to.” He flips your skirt up, groaning at the sigh, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he does so.
“Fuck…” You pathetically breathe out, moving your hips towards him instinctively but he stops you, his hands shoving you back into the wall, stilling your movements as he pins you in place, exactly where he wants to. You whimper, squirming for friction.
“In due time, but I want to play with my food first.” An animalistic growl leaves his lips, fingers spidering up the meat of your thighs, calloused fingers toying with the hem of your panties. He wasn’t about to allow himself to indulge, not yet, not right away. He needed to know that it was something you wanted and not just something you were being forced into. “Do you remember the safe word?” He asked, earning himself a nod. In response to you, he smacked your thigh gently. “Use your words, pet, or next time I won’t be so fucking kind.” His voice was threatening, commanding you to follow his every whim.
“Y-Yes! Fuck yes, it’s Baphomet, now for fuck’s sake just-” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence as he shoved your panties aside in a swift motion, tugging them violently down your legs. He groaned at the sight of them, such a pretty little delicate thing adorning you so sinfully - he strained in his uniform, hips involuntarily grinding forward. He desperately wanted the friction, but he was not about to give into such a carnal desire without giving something back to you first.
“Bet you’re already so wet f’me, aren’t you, you slut.” He hissed, gentle kisses placed on the insides of your thighs. His hand came up to his face only to remove the lower half of his balaclava before he dove back in, the plush lips your body desperately yearned for finding purchase on the soft and sensitive skin, his head dipping under your skirt. Your breath hitched at every gentle movement, every tender touch, but the breaking point and the action that caused you to grip the breathing tubes on his helmet was when he buried his nose in your cunt, smelling it before placing a hot kiss to it, a moan ripping itself from the depth of his throat, the cavernous echo just serving to drench you even more. He tentatively licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, heart lurching in his chest, his grip on your thighs tightening before he spidered his fingers up to your heat, teasing and prodding at your folds. You tugged him forward and moaned as he began to finger you, urging him further on. His tongue teased over your clit, licking slow and lazy figure eights across it, flicking his tongue like a snake, on occasion causing strangled gasps to leave your lips.
“Lucifer in hell!” You choked out, something that only made the ghoul dip his fingers into your entrance, setting a slow but brutal pace as he sucked on your clit, unrelenting. He acted like a prisoner on death row eating his last meal and satan, if your pussy was his last meal, he would die a happy soul. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, sweet with a slight bitter tinge, like a decadent dark chocolate melting on his tongue. He moaned into you, pushing his fingers further in, curling them over your spongey walls, beckoning you closer to the precipice as his tongue tended to your clit. Your body felt like the flames of hell themselves were lapping at it, enveloping you in the most sinful heat.
As the ghoul picked up his pace by a fraction, he felt you squirm, hips lifting from the wall. He took this chance to push them back down, the impact of his hand hitting your thigh creating a light sting. It wasn’t a hard smack, but a gentle warning of what was to come if you defied him. You hissed out an incomprehensible response, your head coming into contact with the cement behind you. You felt the man below you smirk against your pussy, his slow pace picking up as he began to abuse the deepest and most sensitive part of you, hitting the bundle of nerves with brutality you hadn’t expected. Immediately you tugged him closer, a chuckle escaping his lips, the vibrations more than welcome against your weeping folds.
There was something to be said about a man starved, and it was certainly in part that there was a certain desperation behind his actions, a certain drive to madness that was so irrevocably pulchritudinous. There was nothing prettier than a man down on his knees, crying out for absolution for his wrongdoings, and there was something incredulously sensual about him doing so in pure unadulterated sin. With that he reached his free hand to squeeze your ass, gently kneading into it with his fingers, moaning into your pussy unabashedly.
“S’fucking perfect f’me.” He muttered, completely losing himself in your heat. The curl of his fingers inside you in combination with his praise had you keening, squeezing around his fingers, a new fire burning through your body as he edged you on. You were left panting, choking on your moans as he worked at you. His touch set you ablaze and you couldn’t help but pulse around his fingers. You heard him moan, this time opting to wrap his lips gently around your clit, sucking over the bud with fervour, his tongue eagerly teasing it from time to time. You threw your head back once again, a high-pitched whine leaving your throat, ripping straight from your chest. You flushed with heat, the uneasy feeling of embarrassment clawing at your neck as Eddie pulled away, and from that, you saw the fire burning behind his eyes ignited with a new flame, one that burned brighter, hotter even, his lips left pink and puffy, used exactly to your liking.
“Eds,” You breathe out, trying to pull him back into your core, “need you.” You felt yourself squeeze against his fingers once again, eliciting a cavernous yet pornographic moan from deep in his throat. It was primal, animalistic, and with your words he dove back in, pounding his fingers into you at an unrelenting pace, abusing your poor sensitive cunt until your legs shook beneath you. You gripped his mask harder, knuckles turning white as you did so, if he kept this up he would bring you over the edge, a side effect of not having had a good lay in at least a year. You felt pathetic coming undone so quickly, unable to put up as much of a fight as you’d hoped for, but maybe your climax would put you in a position of control. Maybe if you coated his tongue in your slick you’d be able to turn this around on him. You desperately wanted him under your thumb, and satan you’d have him if it was the last thing you did.
“Then fucking earn it.” He growled out, this time he trailed his tongue down, allowing it to slip lower and lower. He removed his fingers and you couldn’t help but let out a groan, your walls desperate to keep him buried inside you, however, his long digits were quickly replaced with his tongue, his calloused fingertips working your clit, abusing it at an unrelenting pace. The slight grit from his relentless guitar playing added a layer of pleasure that had you seeing stars as you fucked yourself on his tongue. His grip on your hips tightened as he tried to maintain his composure, his hips slowly snapping forward to the tune of sinful moans, his resolve melting away with each lap at your sopping cunt. You tasted too good to pass up, and god, if Lucifer himself were to choose to strike him down right here right now, he would have no complaints. His last words would be utterly muffled by your pussy as he devoured it.
Your breathing picked up, chest heaving as you rutt into his face, tears starting to brim your lashline, you needed him, you needed the release that only he could grant you, chasing it like a bitch in heat before trying to slow yourself, but it was no use. Eddie was building you up just to bring you crashing down, and oh how the mighty will fall. He abruptly stopped, his movements stilled as you nearly sobbed out in near-pain, practically clawing at his mask as he stilled his movements. You felt him smirk against you, a gentle gust of breath against your slick causing you to shiver and grind into him. Your pupils were completely blown, your bottom lip securely between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself.
“Fuck you.” You hissed out at the ghoul, pain and desire fueling a very dangerous fire in the pit of your stomach. You needed him, you wanted him, and there was nobody to give you enough relief aside from him. The only issue was that you were livid, you were so angry that he lied to you, that he spoke empty words, stringing you along. He was a rockstar and you were, at best, a groupie, or so you thought. Funny, a groupie who doesn’t even like the fucking band. You bit back your bitter emotions as much as you could, a glossy sheen coating your eyes.
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” He retorted, his cocky demeanour peering through his tender gestures, dipping his tongue back through your folds, moaning at your sweet juices. You wanted to cry, your anger building up to a boiling point. You manhandled his mask, ripping him away from your sopping core, your blown pupils meeting his as your chest heaved. You couldn’t see his face but you imagined that it was painted in shock at your brash actions.
“You think you’re in control here?” You spat out at him, you raised your foot and placed it on his shoulder, your black heels digging into bone as you pushed him down. “You think you’re the one with the upper hand?” You seethed, a slight shove making the ghoul lose his balance, sending him toppling onto his back. He braced for the impact with his elbows, pain shooting through them, a gasp leaving his lips as he watched you tower over him. “I think you’re about to be a very fucking good boy, for me.” The growl that left your throat was enough to give heart palpitations to Satan himself, and with a swift move, you too came down to your knees, placing yourself right above his face. The fire ghoul lowered himself onto the tile floor gently, his fingers coming up to the meat of your thighs once again but you did not provide him with much opportunity to get situated as you pressed your core to his nose. “You’re going to take what I give you.”
The only noise that left the poor man was an indistinct moan, your cunt suppressing the sound. He quickly got to work, eating you with a burning need - as if lapping you up was going to bring him closer to the light. His hands tugged on you in desperation, his anger shoved to the back burner as he pleasured you. Your hands found your way to his mask, hand pressing into the hard leather of the helmet as you rode the poor man like your life depended on it. You were using him as you saw fit, using his nose to stimulate your clit while his tongue pushed through your folds, prodding in and out at whatever pace you chose to set. You had him where you wanted him, his nails digging into your skin, surely leaving claw marks for all to see.
The strain in his trousers was insufferable, the lack of stimulation taking its toll on him as he tried to push you closer and closer to climax. It was impossible to tell whether it was something that he now desired for himself, or whether he was putty in your hands. His desire to devour you was in part fueled by his burning need to be inside you once again, and whether you wanted to believe it or not, he hadn’t intended for this to be how you both saw each other the next time, but with his tongue between your folds, the ghoul couldn’t complain. He spidered his right hand up to your cunt, slipping his fingers back inside you, providing extra stimulation - you couldn’t complain about it, you wouldn’t, not with the way he caused you to throw your head back, grinding over his face with a whorish desperation. If he had any indication that he picked up on your sudden need he certainly showed it by sinking his digits further into you, crooking them against your spongy walls. There wouldn’t be a time where you complained about a guitarist's skill, especially not now, not when Eddie picked up his pace, abusing your poor walls until you felt the coil tightening to an unbearable point. If he kept this up, you were sure to snap without much more effort from the man below you.
He viciously pumped his fingers into you, finally releasing his mouth from your entrance, licking a stripe up to your clit. For half a second you had the right mind to try to push his head back but his mouth on your clit had you bucking your hips harder against his face, a load moan ripping from your throat, your chest rumbling as it did. Your thighs clenched around the ghoul’s head and you panted, tears pricking your eyes as he drew your first climax out of you. He coaxed it, beckoning it to wash over his chin, his greedy desire for you consuming him like the flames of hell certain would when he croaks, the worst part was that you let yourself go, grinding desperately over his face, his fingers working you open.
His actions were slowed, brought to a steady pace and you came down from your first climax, walls squeezing around his fingers and he pumped you. He allowed you the grace to catch your breath before slipping his fingers from you, a delicious keening tumbling from behind his plush lips. Your eyes screwed shut as you tried to compose yourself, but for the man below you, there wasn’t a prettier sight – you were completely undone on his tongue, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat across your forehead.
“Thassit, my pet, so fucking good f’me.” He groaned, his hips instinctively rolling into thin air, desperation straining his voice as he spoke. His hands made their way to your waist, careful so that his slick soaked fingers didn’t brush against your outfit, as he guided you towards his hips, and you complied. When you dared open your eyes, there was a heavy cloud of lust behind them as they searched the ghoul’s features. Without much hesitation, you grabbed his spent hand and guided it to your lips, a smirk finding itself upon your lips as you stare at your cum mixed with the blood from his careless injury. While you’re studying his fingers, Eddie is memorising your features, the way you feel so good against his cock, the way you eye him like you’d escaped his vicious maw as if he was all bark and no bite. He can’t get enough of you, wanting to soak in every last detail – what he didn’t expect was that detail to be bringing his fingers to your lips, lapping up the bloodied cum with your tongue. Pressing it flat to his digits, you flicked it across and through them before sucking them deep into your mouth, your red lipstick adding a particularly sinful element to the moment.
The tang of iron intertwining with the sweetness was unlike anything you’d had before, a muffled moan leaving your lips as you instinctively rut your hips across the ghoul’s length, hips stuttering as you did so. Eddie couldn’t help but let out the most debaucherous moan that could have graced your ears. It was a moan that you wished you could have recorded and saved for moments alone, to listen to over and over - the most sinful prayer to satan, a dedication to the most pleasurable of deadly sins. If succumbing to lust warranted a trip to hell, you’d be on your knees, ready to be taken.
The taste was enough to spur you on, taking his fingers deeper into your mouth, the cochineal hue of your lips transferring to his interdigits, painting them in the most blasphemous shade of red. Eddie’s mouth watered at the sight, he couldn’t help himself and swiftly he ripped his hand from your grasp and brought it to your throat, squeezing it, the pressure from his thumb and ring fingers causing the strangled gasp you let out to be just about the deepest breath you were able to take. His quick actions shocked you, a whine emitting from your throat as you rocked over his lower half, shallow breaths huffing out your nose as you tried to regain control.
“Shouldn’t have defied me, sweetheart.” He growled, managing to sit himself up. He caged you in, pulling your face towards his only to have your lips meet in a clash of animalistic hunger. You tasted yourself on his lips and likewise, he tasted his blood on your tongue. Your mewls provided ample opportunity for his tongue to snake its way into your mouth, dancing in tandem with yours, taking the lead in the evocative dance you both set. “Now,” his free hand came to your ass and tugged you further over his clothed cock, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to fuck the word friend out of you, you were already so good my pet, cumming on my face like that. My little slut.” The pure animalistic snarl that left his lips as they curled was enough to have heat pooling in your core, you couldn’t help but swallow hard, breathing shallow and rapid as you nodded. With a smirk, he smashed his lips back against yours, all teeth, tongue, and need. There wasn’t a way to get you close enough it seemed.
“You fucking wish.” You managed to hiss out between harsh kisses, but all venom was drained from your voice, replaced with a need and desire. Part of you wanted that, you wanted to be his, you wanted for him to be serious, and you would devote yourself to him, down on your knees praying to your false idol. You didn’t just want to be his, you wanted him to be yours in return, but was that even a possibility for him? Was he even willing to dedicate himself to you in the same way that you needed?
“So what are you then?” He taunted, rolling his hips into your harder, his grip around your neck tightening. If the idea was to make you see stars one last time before plunging you into the cavernous darkness and pure carnal pleasure, he was getting there. “You’re just my friend?” The word is accentuated with a brutally slow drag of his clothed dick across your pussy. “A groupie?” And again, this time a whimper leaves you. “No, my pet, you’re mine.” Your breath hitched before you started panting, rutting against his cock like a bitch in heat. You wanted nothing more than to tear his clothes off and for him to shut the everloving fuck up.
“‘M not yours.” You try to hiss out but a gasp leaves you as Eddie’s hand comes down on your ass, the sting that came shortly after being a welcome feeling. He took a moment to remove his hand from your neck, trailing it down to your chest, smearing blood down your white shirt, before giving your tit a squeeze in his calloused hand. He massaged it, occasionally pinching your nipple through the fabric, ensuring to leave his bloodied handprint across your chest.. Reacting to his touch, you keened, leaning into his groping, desperate for him to touch you more. The action didn’t go unnoticed and before you knew it the fire ghoul had occupied himself, simultaneously ripping the neckline of your shirt down and moving the cup of your bra out of the way so that he could latch onto the pebbled bud. A flick of his tongue had you letting out a strangled moan as your head came to rest on his shoulder. If there was anything to say about the man, it was that he was unrelenting – when he had his eyes on something and he wanted it, he made it his mission to get it.
“No? What are you?” He mumbled around your nipple before nipping at it, gently tugging it. A cold shiver travelled down your spine, your skin erupting in gooseflesh as he taunted you so.
“I- I-” You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, your lips connecting with his neck, a hunger taking over you as you bit over his jugular, he moaned as he pulled away, a loud smack resonating through the poorly isolated room, yet you continued. You wanted to bruise him the same way he bruised your ego, leave marks that hurt, that he’d have to see every time he looked in the mirror.
“Answer me.” He snarled, but half of it broke into a whinier sound, his act faltering as you worked away at leaving a blood-coloured blossom across his neck. Your hands found his waistcoat and you tugged him forward, his head tipping back in an obscene moan. He allowed himself to let go for a moment, giving you the opportune chance to bite down into his neck hard. You wanted to make him bleed, you wanted another taste of him and you couldn’t help yourself but before you could complete your task, he pushed you away. “What did I say?” His stern tone pierced through the air. You finally dared look over his face, the dark goggles obstructing his eyes, the ember glow from behind the dark lenses hiding any emotion he held. “What. Are. You.” He accentuated each word, the hiss of his question came out crazed, a desperation well hidden behind it.
“Fuck, Eds, yours. Is that what you want to hear?” You were so frustrated at this point, and you couldn’t imagine that he wasn’t, you wanted to sob, to scream at him to fuck you, to fuck you and forget about you - you had too much pride to hold onto, too much you wanted to leave unsaid - maybe you could heal your heart. “You want to hear me say I’m yours just for the night? Want me to be your little whore for tonight?” Your anger bubbled over as you rocked your hips against his, your eyes boring into his own, your lipstick smudged halfway across your face exactly as he liked it.
“You don’t get to call me that right now, my pet, no, you need to earn it.” His voice reached your ears in such a way that it struck a slight fear into you, but not a fear of him, or his punishments per se. You couldn’t pinpoint it, yet it was a fear that aroused you. “Tonight, you call me by my stage name until I tell you otherwise, darling. You need to earn the right to carry my name in your mouth.” You groaned before biting back a reply.
“And what if I want your dick in it instead?” At this, the man bit back a dark chuckle, his chin tilting downwards and you could tell he was eyeing you as if he was about to devour you whole. The sinister tone to his laugh should have put you off and yet it left you craving him even more than you had been previously, something you didn’t even believe possible, yet here you were. One climax clearly wasn’t enough to satiate the burning need that kindled in the pit of your core, the embers having reignited with a few simple words.
“Then I will fuck the brat out of it, leave you speechless, how about that?” The threat felt very real, and yet you found yourself craving it, but he didn’t give you the chance to debate that, no, instead he grabbed a hold of you and flipped you so that he was fully on top, caging your body with his own, yet he still ensured that your back didn’t hit the tile floor, his true nature barely seeping through the cracks. Within an instant though, it was gone, his mouth latching onto your neck as you threw your head back in ecstasy. It was as if he’d mapped out your erogenous zones as if ghosts of bruises past were guiding him across the expanse of the surface. He sunk his teeth back into the crook of your neck, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin, tugging you between his teeth before releasing you only to latch onto an even more sensitive area on your neck. He wanted to memorise every little mole, every marking, every single little detail about you, he needed to know.
His hips slowly rolled into yours with precision, the rough zipper of his trousers providing just enough friction on your clit. You gasped out his name, which earned you a solid bite, his canines on a mission to make you bleed, not that you’d complain. Your legs wrapped around his slender hips, dragging him across the area you needed him in most, a small reminder to him that you were just as impatient if he was, if not more.
“What did I say?” He growled, another tug at the thin skin of your jugular before he trailed his lips up your neck, behind your ear, before coming to find your earlobe. He snagged it between his teeth and tugged, causing your back to arch off the floor. “You will earn the right to that name, my pet. I am Sodo to you. I am your ghoul, your demon, the devil you must repent to, and you, my darling, are my filthy fucking sinner.” He recited it like a promise, a promise to himself, to you, and to Satan himself most likely.
“Y-Yours, yours, Sodo.” You relented, finally caving to his demands, finally admitting to the man that you were indeed his, even if just for the night. “P-please just, make me yours.” You couldn’t stand it, you needed your fill – a year of frustration building up more and more until you were practically tearing his waistcoat off his body, needing him close. You wanted to feel his heat, feel the way his body slotted against yours once again. He let out a small curse into your neck before bringing his teeth down on your skin, sucking over it like a vampire, the harsh hold threatening to break your skin. The man was completely unrelenting in his mission to make you bleed, you’d already had a taste of his blood during this tumble, and now he wanted yours. He missed the taste of it on his tongue - the iron tang and the way you looked completely dishevelled beneath him, the red liquid smeared across your jaw, collarbones, and throat. His dick throbbed in response to his bloodthirsty thoughts, the need for you to be even closer, for your warm walls to wrap him up as they massaged him closer to his petite mort.
“Not here, not in the bathroom.” He choked out, his eyes screwing shut from behind the mask as he tried to hold himself back. “Greenroom.” He breathed out, making absolutely no effort to move his body off of you. “You might be filthy slut, but you’re still my filthy slut, and I’m going to fuck you somewhere you deserve to be fucked - somewhere I can wreck you.” He continued his way up your jaw, tracing the red blossoms over your neck, nipping at the thin skin of your jawline as he went. He grabbed your bottom lip swiftly between his teeth, nibbling it before tugging on it while he bit down hard. The permanent scar he’d left down the middle reopened to allow blood to pool into his mouth. If he weren’t so controlled he would have painted the inside of his underwear white in his spend, but he stuttered his hips, stopping himself just in time. “I’m going to take you to the greenroom,” Eddie hissed out, “and I’ll fuck you so hard that I'll have you screaming my name so loud you wake the dead.” His composure crumbled like an old fresco, the natural elements wearing it down.
You couldn’t object, but you couldn’t let go either, and so in a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue, you both got up, clawing at each other as you did so, and both stumbled backwards towards the bathroom door. Your back hit it first, Sodo’s hand leaving your figure temporarily and he unlatched the deadbolt with a loud click, one that barely registered as you tried to get him to bleed for you, your lips sucking his bottom lip in before you were allowed the opportunity to nip at it, your teeth cutting just deep enough for pearls of rose colour liquid surfaced. You let out a moan over his plush lips, the vibration causing the man to press his hips into yours, pinning you to the door harder than he had intended to, earring a whimper in response.
“You can’t kiss me like that, my pet.” He heaved, mask coming to meet your forehead as he panted. “You’re gonna make me see the light, s’too much. I’m bathed in sin.” He noted gruffly as he got a taste of your mingling blood.
“Yeah well,” you retorted, voice coming out breathier than you had intended, “when you kiss me it makes me wanna die.” And in an instant his hands shot to your face, cupping your soft cheeks in his rough hands, the contrast being enough to push you to grab the doorknob, too eager to rip his clothes off the second you were in a cleaner environment. He viciously kissed you, lips moving in synchronicity, blood and saliva mixing in their own tango, the taste of nicotine and a hint of wintergreen melding into the mix. It was so like him, and yet you couldn’t get enough - the way the iron overpowered the tobacco was perfect, a violent storm brewing on your tongues, leaving chaos in the wake.
You both heaved each other from one wall to the next, earning growls and hisses from one another as both your backs were brutalised by the concrete walls, impatience running like a fever between you both. Had you been paying less attention, you wouldn’t have noticed when your ghoul ripped open a familiar door, practically shoving you in with the leverage of his legs and upper body. He spun you against the door as he shut it, locking it in place as your spine made an impact with the wooden door, a warm thump resonating through the room.
“Satanus,” the ghoul breathed over your kiss-bitten lips, the split down the middle of your bottom lip captivating him, your blood hypnotising him, drawing him further and further in, “you keep this up and I might have to take you to hell with me.” His fingers trailed from your face down to your neck, his left hand remaining in the very crook of it while his right hand brushed over the curves of your body, fingers dancing to a most dangerous tune – the tune of the devil’s most fiery tango.
“Sodo, please.” You babbled, the man not having even freed his cock from his strained trousers. You made quick work of trailing your fingers down his torso, slowly undoing the buttons on his waistcoat before landing on his belt buckle. In one fell swoop you undid the clasp and ripped the belt through its loops, tossing it onto a familiar couch behind you. You were desperate for him, and judging by the way he was thrusting into your touch. “Please, I need you.” You whined, and it was enough for something inside him to snap. He forcibly spun you around, shoving your face into the door as his hand came up to your hair. He tugged your head to the side, exposing the right side of your neck.
“Think I should mark this side up to, yeah? Make sure you know damn fucking well that you’re mine.” He brusquely hissed into your ear – he wanted you to know that this was a threat and he intended to go through with it. “Wanna tell me who you belong to?” His lips softly brushed over the unblemished skin, so pretty, so clean, so mouthwatering. Like an animal, he inhaled your perfume before pressing his tongue flat to your shoulder, licking up to your ear before starting on his promise. You moaned at his every touch, at the way he manhandled you and contorted you, chasing his own desires. “Hmm, why don’t you tell me, pet?” The soft tug at your roots had you seeing stars, you were rendered incapable of nearly all but letting out soft moans.
“I’m yours, I- fuck- I’m yours, please, I need you.” You whined out, your voice hardly above a whisper. You were so consumed by pleasure that if the ghoul were to have told you he was an incubus meant to come steal you away for a life of unadulterated sin and carnal pleasure, you would have dumbly agreed.
The ghoul quickly unzipped his trousers, undoing the button in an equally swift motion before dropping them to the floor, his boxers quickly following suit. For the first time that night, you had the pleasure of feeling the soft skin of his cock brush against your puffy lips. His body slotted perfectly to yours, his chest pressed to your back as he lifted your skirt, his lips pressing soft kisses over the most sensitive parts of your neck, causing you to whimper in response. With a swift motion, he pushed your panties completely from your legs and as soon as his hard cock dipped even a fraction between your lips, you both groaned in unison, your forehead smacking against the door. Sodo took this opportunity to pull your hips back into his, his hand coming over your ass with a loud smack.
“Lucifer in hell, yes, yes you are. All mine, aren’t you?” He grabbed the meat of your ass, digging his nails into the flesh as he bit down hard on your neck, his sharp canines piercing your skin. He sucked on the puncture wound, pulling more of your life source from you, draining you just enough to have it coat his teeth in a scarlet film – your blood was tainted in the sweetness of your sins, and the ghoul couldn’t get enough. He gave your ass one last squeeze before he brought his hand to the site of the wound, allowing the liquid to pool on his fingers. The sweet metallic smell infiltrated both yours and his nostrils but before you knew it, it had faded. Confusion on your part was soon replaced with a rush of heat straight to your core, your insides melting under the volcanic ardour as you realised that he had grabbed his cock, languidly stroking it, smearing your life source across it before dipping it through your soaked folds, painting them his favourite colour. He prodded at your entrance, his tip just barely sinking in, but it was enough to have you pushing back onto him with greed. A small warning tug to your hair came but all you could do was let a wonton moan escape from deep within, one which in turn had the musician sinking into you to the hilt. You were both a half second from falling apart from each other, both desperate to chase your releases.
“Yours.” You choked out, practically sobbing as tears began to prick your eyes, the stretch of his member practically splitting you in half. You had forgotten how good he made you feel, how tight you squeezed around him, how adept he was at nailing that spongey spot deep within you, you had even nearly forgotten the malediction and yet here you were, begging him for consummated bliss. Slowly he pulled out from you only to sink back in, his hips rolling into you gently, slowly, the intention of getting you re-accustomed was there, but both of you needed more.
“Say it again.” He commanded as he thrust back into you, the movement causing the door to rattle. “My little whore, tell me you’re mine, say it again. Need to hear you, fuck, need to hear you.” He babbled, his pace picking up as he vocalised his need for you.
“F-fa-fuck.” You corrected yourself. “Yours, yours, fuck, babe, yours, shit, satan knows I’m yours.” You cried out, tears spilling over your cheeks, ruining your makeup as he abused your weeping hole. You kept chanting that you were his until you couldn’t breathe anymore, an incarnation of the utterly unforgivable sin, oh how Amodeus would be proud. With every whimper you fluttered against his cock, his groans being evidence enough that he felt each involuntary spasm.
“Thassit, you’re mine, only mine. In body and blood, my pet.” He picked up his pace, the steady rhythm of the clacking door enough to let just about any passerby know what was going down in the green room. He fucked into you like an animal in heat, unable to control himself any longer, teeth embedding themselves into your neck, spilling precious blood, as one hand moved to your hips, steadying them as he tugged them further back, angling you so that he could fuck his seed deeper into you. His other hand snaked around your waist to tease your clit – he wanted you to come undone on his blood-soaked cock, to leave your legs shaking, hells, he wanted his name ripped from your throat until your voice was completely raw and fucked out. There wasn’t a single aspect of him telling him to stop, and he wouldn’t, not when your moans were so lewd that they would make angels fall from heaven. He wanted to consecrate your body after he was done, lap up both of your juices with his tongue, and let the taste of you both and the metallic liquid mix together in the most unholy of ways.
“More, please, please, anything you want, just fuck please, S-Sodo.” The fucked into you at a brutal pace, sloppy figure eights drawn over your clit as he tried desperately to have you come undone before him. “Please, I need you, I need you to fill me up, I need to be yours, make me yours.” You sobbed out, salty tears flowing down your face, slipping down your neck and leaving streaks through the drying blood. Eddie moaned at the sudden addition to his favourite flavour profile, the salty tang adding to the already overwhelming flavour. It had taken everything not to let go there and then, to not paint your walls with his unholy being. He wanted to devour you.
“You’ve been s’fuckin’ good f’me, so good.” He nudged his nose into your jawline, picking up the pace on your clit, his callouses rough against it, adding to the pleasure by means of friction. It was just what you needed and at just the right moment too, enough to bring you to the edge, pushing you back into him. The sudden action caused him to stutter his hips deeper into you, your cunt fully sucking him it. It was impossible to hold out very much longer. “Fuck, sweetheart, gonna make me cum.”
“Sodo, please!” You sobbed out, overwhelmed by all the sensations that came at you from all directions. He wasn’t taking his time, no, there was no use, he wanted you to know how passionate he was about you, how much his body craved you, and the sheer desperation that he held for you. You’d ruined him, and you’d ruined everyone else for him as well. It was you, it was always you, the way your bodies worked in tandem, both adding fuel to each other’s fire, the way you both instinctively mapped each other out, it was in perfect sin.
“Fuck that, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned the right to my name, and I want you to scream it.” He growled out into your neck. “Who’s your master? Who’s the devil you worship on your knees?” With a few final flicks to your clit, the elastic tension that build inside you frayed and snapped violently.
“You, Eddie, fuck!” You screamed, vocal cords surely completely raw and spent just like the rest of your body. Your slick had completely soaked his cock, once again spraying his legs in the sinful way you had last year. That was all it took for him to come completely undone as well, the final slam of his hips into yours, and the loud bang of the wooden door against its frame had him filling you to the brim with his seed. He couldn’t hold himself back from his loud moan and so in an attempt to stifle it, he buried his masked face into your bloodied neck, letting his tongue trace all the wounds and blossoms he left across it.
With both your chests heaving, you stilled your movements, both too sensitive and spent to move an inch further. Eddie didn’t want to move in this moment, he didn’t want to pull out of you, but he selfishly wanted a taste of your mingling fluids. His feet stayed firmly planted, slotted around yours, but he moved his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into him tenderly. Soft kisses were placed over your neck, trying to ensure that you felt safe and unharmed.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He whispered into your neck, bowing his head over your shoulder, the fatigue slowly hitting you. You pushed out slightly, his cock slipping out of you, cum beginning to drip down your legs slowly. You both let out your individual groans in response, but neither of you made a move to act on it. Turning around to face him, finally giving him a moment to take you in, but not giving him a moment to let you go, you once again closed the distance, chest to chest with him. The moment his eyes landed on your face, his heart yearned to be close to you in ways he never has been. A mix of both yours and his blood smeared across your chin, lipstick smudged across your cheek, halfway removed, some of it on Eddie’s fingers, some of it on your face, and some most likely to have ended up in each other’s mouths. He pulled you gently to the couch, reaching to pull his pants up and button them at the very least. He sat you down and sunk to his knees before you, a tenderness behind his actions. He parted your knees, taking his index and middle finger to push the cum back into you, bringing his face up to your cunt and licking away any excess, a strained moan releasing itself from the back of his throat. “Want to make sure it sticks.” The ghoul whispers to you softly before adding a quick, “Asmodeus would be proud.” He kisses the inside of your thigh before sitting back on his knees and looking up at you, his hands never leaving your body as you watch him intently. The predator had gotten ahold of his prey, had devoured them, and yet had left them utterly whole all the same.
“Eddie.” You whispered, voice breaking now that the high was crumbling away, like a castle poorly built, the walls would come crashing down with just the most unfortunate of phenomena, the most unlikely undoing and every last stone brick would topple. Like black feathers fluttering down as Lucifer fell from the pinnacle, this was your moment to fall, and while you expected to fall into a dark pit, what you didn’t expect was that there would be a sinner, equally as guilty, just waiting to catch you.
“I meant it.” He whispered back. “I meant it when I said I wished you were there.” The small crack in his otherwise steady voice gave him away – this was a true moment of vulnerability for him. “I gave you my number for a reason, and I’m sorry if what we just did was too much, I didn’t mean to push you, but,” he placed a tender kiss on your knee, hand coming up to brush his thumb across it, “I meant it, darling. I want you to be mine if you’ll have me.” Your heart just about broke as you listened to his confession.
“Eddie, the reason I didn’t reply, it- it’s embarrassing.” You looked away, tears burning your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it but if he was being honest, it was your turn to be honest as well. “I wanted to, but I was afraid I would come across too…too forced, too needy, and I- what was I supposed to think?”
“That I want you there,” He interrupted, “that I need you there.” His confession breathed a new life into you and you slowly brought your hands to his mask, unable to properly think as you eyed him. The mask was doing too many things to you while he was between your legs like this, and while you were still hot and bothered, you wanted a conversation before you were to jump his bones again. You slowly peeled it away, allowing his hair to tumble loose, his brown doe eyes meeting yours for the first time that evening. His bloodied lips and chin were a sight to see, your lipstick having left a trail down his neck leading to dark blooming rose blossoms, the occasional bright carnation bursting across his neck. His neck was a warzone, and you’d have it no other way. He took your hand in his, gently placing his mask beside you, exposed and vulnerable for the first time in the past year.
“Tell me you meant it.” Your voice broke, a tear streaming down your cheek as you observed the man below you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole. Your heart wouldn’t have been able to take it if he wasn’t being honest. He had already broken it once, albeit unintentionally, and you didn’t think that you’d have been able to survive his outright rejection. You held your heart out to him in your hands, bruised, bloodied, and beating for him.
“I meant every word, sweetheart. I want you to be mine, in every sense of the word. I- I missed you. You were never just a fuck to me, you know that, don’t you?” He whispered, aspects of the wounded boy he once was poking through his confident nature. “I didn’t mean to make it seem disingenuous, I didn’t text you that night just to get my dick wet, I said I wanted you there because I wanted you there.”.
“But did you?” You focused in, eyebrows knitting together in prehemptive discomfort, searching for an answer that would serve nothing but hurt you. “Get your dick wet, I mean. I’m sure there would have been plenty of willing participants that night-”
“No, I didn’t, but also not the night before, or the one before that, not even a day since then – unless you want to count using lube on my right hand as getting my dick wet.” He interrupted you tenderly, his hands unable to keep themselves from you. “Sweetheart, from the night I met you it’s only been you. It’s always only been you.” He admitted, your damned heart swelling as he confessed to you. “I want you to be mine so that we can live freely, together, in sin. I want you to be mine so that I can have and hold you, and love you. I want to wake up to you because if I don’t, my heart won’t be able to take it. I’ll be honest, I want you for myself. I’m selfish, I’m jealous, and I can’t stand the idea of someone else keeping you warm at night.”
As much as your heart shouldn’t have fluttered, it did, and you took his rough hand in yours, bringing it in for a tenderhearted kiss, your lips softly brushing over his fingertips, paying particular attention to his wounded pinky as you ensured that your most delicate touch be reserved for it. A smile ghosted across his lips, your affection causing his heart to pick up in pace, beating to the tune of whatever song you chose to set. It wasn’t a sensation he was particularly used to, always having been comfortable being alone.
“You mean that?” You pry further, earning an assiduous nod from the man. “Okay.” Your face heats as you scavenge his face for any ounce of a lie, calling forth any doubts to make themselves known. “I have to admit I, I got insecure. I don’t understand why you’d want me of all people. I was bitchy, I talked back, I didn’t even enjoy the set!” You softly cried out – you weren’t sure if you were trying to dissuade him or to get him to spill his guts to you.
“Hey!” Eddie sternly warned, earning you a small tap on the cheek for your rudeness, a chuckle escaping him shortly after in jest. “Did you really not like the set, not even a little?” He pried into your false confession, hoping that one day he might have you on your knees, confessing all your blasphemous lies to him from below. Yet no matter how unholy you might end up being, blasphemous wouldn’t even cover the way you both felt about each other. The sheer adoration and desire that pooled in your eyes while you sized each other up was enough to make Lucifer blush, the flames of hell having nothing on the heat that permeated between you both. It was nothing to dismiss.
“Well, there was this one part of the show I quite enjoyed. I don’t know, this guitarist who seemed to have it hot for me, that was pretty nice.” You giggled out before adding. “I did enjoy the shows, Eds, I didn’t think I would but I did. And it helps that you have an exceptional talent. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, or your hands.” You grin, a tender kiss ghosting over Eddie’s callouses, your ruined lipstick leaving a light rosey dusting across them.
“I think the show last year was my favourite, I mean, barring this one,” he admit bashfully, a playful glint in his eyes. “But I swear if you ever flirt with Phantom like that again…” He warned, scooting closer to you, knees bumping the couch with a thump. You smiled at his possessiveness and shook your head, heart swelling as your cheeks heated. You suddenly felt awfully bashful in comparison to mere moments ago.
“I only did that because I wanted to be over you. I didn’t want to admit to myself that you still had a hold on me, especially if you were getting under someone else. I just, I thought that maybe I was nothing but the old reliable fuck in the city, you know? I wouldn’t have slept with Phantom or anything like that, not when I can’t get you off my mind.” You finally admit to him, your feelings slowly exposing themselves more and more to the musician before you. You watched as a smile spread across his lips, his dimples making an appearance for the first time that night, and god what you’d give to kiss him then and there. “I need to know something though,” you start, looking over his features for any indication of deceit, “If I’m yours, I want you to be mine in the most selfish of ways as well, I don’t want to have any doubts that I can be the one to hold you, to love you, to pray to you, worship you on my knees, likewise I want you to be on your knees in worship of me.” The sincerity in your voice invited a ribbon of hurt to intermingle, threading itself through the passion in your voice. “I want us to live in sin until unholy matrimony becomes the option, and then it’s what I want. I don’t want to share you, Eds.”
“And you won’t, I can promise you that. You have my most wicked heart in your hands, and my blood in your mouth, the same as I do yours. It’s me and you, if you’ll have me.” He confirmed, your heart swelling at the answer. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his plush lips, both of you smiling into it so much that your teeth clicked together causing you both to burst into a fit of giggles. If anyone were to walk in on you both it would certainly be a sight to see, all bloodied and bruised, yet the one thing they wouldn’t question would be the way Eddie was sat at his altar, worshipping the connection you had both entangled yourselves in.
a/n: Thank you so much for reading this pure fucking filth. Much worse than the last time, much more sinful, and I'm pretty sure I will actually be sent to the seventh circle of hell once I die, but it's worth it.
tag list: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish @fantasticmacaroni @cryingglightningg @spenciesprincess @skrzydlak @jaquelinewrites @0pallangel
summary: in which you show your best friend the new christmas lingerie you bought for a guy, and he finally snaps and shows you how much better he is for you. (wc:2.8k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up irl), possessive!eddie, slight breeding kink, degrading, praises, kinda dom!eddie, but v soft dom/sub tones, kind of a daddy kink (its used like 2 times i can never properly do daddy kinks im stupid) no use of ‘y/n’, nicknames!
pairing: best friend!eddie munson x bratty!fem!reader
authors note: so i was just looking for christmas lingeries, and saw those bow ones that wrap around your body. and i was listening to sabrina carpenter's fruitcake ep and this was made oops. not proof-read ignore any mistakes pls or ill bite u. [EDIT: sorry for posting this a million times tumblr won't co-operate w me so i got rid of the dividers. i hope it works or im gonna bang my head against the wall.]
“Do you think Chris will like it?” You hummed, admiring yourself against the mirror, moving around with a giggle as anticipation pooled in Eddie’s tummy, his breath getting more ragged, and pants getting tighter around his relentless bulge.
Speechless.
Eddie stood speechless, gaze darkening the more he admired you, he didn’t even know which part of you he wanted to take a mental image of.
It was like you stepped from his filthiest fantasies, giggling up at him with that alluring smirk on your face. God, you had to know what you were doing to him.
The red bowknot wrapped around you perfectly, cradling your curves, tantalizing him further and further. You were his precious Christmas gift, just waiting to be unwrapped by him, and him only.
Not that stupid jock who probably couldn’t even make you cum no matter how hard he tried.
No, you needed him, you needed Eddie to unwrap you, and show you how to properly be punished for even suggesting if this was good enough for you to surprise your boy toy with.
“N-no!” He spat quickly, getting up from the comfortable way he was sprawled on your bed.
Your head cocked to face him. “W-what? Do you not like it?” You jutted out your bottom lip, and he so badly wanted to bite those plushy lips, shut you up, and show you who fucking owned you.
You had been teasing him non-stop lately, and this had been your last resort, you knew Eddie always fell for your jealous antics, but this had been too much, you knew this would finally push him off the edge, finally handle you the way you wanted to be handled, rough and possessive.
Neither of you were good at communicating your feelings, but this, this is what you were good at. And you had been wanting Eddie ever since the two of you became best friends.
There was something unspoken there, a line the two of you always wanted to cross, always handsy with each other, always too close, but never stepping over that boundary. And you were growing tired of it, the nights you spent with your fingertips circling over your clit, imagining his calloused hands, mewling for him.
And the nights, the mornings, the showers he spent, abusing his hardened cock with the images of you sprawled out for him, begging to fuck him had been torturous enough.
He deserved this, he deserved you.
This was it, and Eddie was willing to fuck over the friendship once and for all. To finally make you his.
“N-no, I like- love it.” He stammered, taking a step closer to you, “but there’s no fuckin’ way he gets you like this.”
You wanted to smirk, the excitement you felt in your tummy was unexplainable, heat pooling with a need for him as you wanted nothing more than to have him push you against the sturdy beige wall of your room, exploring you, marking you as his.
“That inexperienced asshole, doesn’t deserve you,” he spat, pushing his body closer to yours, merely inches away from you, and you nodded dumbly at his words.
“You need someone who can take better care of you, princess. That can handle you like you deserve to be handled, don’t you think?” He coos, hand dipping to the lacey bow that adorned your curves, everywhere he touches feels hot, so hot that you almost whine, just at the sensation of his rough hands.
“Do you think he knows you better than me, angel?” He tsks mockingly and you’re quick to shake your head.
“That’s what I thought too, baby…” He hums, running his fingertips over the soft fabric that barely covers your slit, “Do you think he can handle a brat like you? D’you think he can actually put you in your place like I would?”
His fingers now dance over the wrapped bow, teasingly, wanting nothing more than to unwrap it and see you fully, naked, and begging for him.
Your thighs rubbed together with need, “Honey,” he hummed dangerously close to your ear, breath fanning against your cheeks, and you melted into him, “if I unwrap you, am I going to find you soaking for me?” He pressed open-mouthed kisses down the shell of your ear, tongue striping a lick down to your throat.
The anticipation is killing you and you want to answer him, but his slight touches on your body are making it impossible, he’s fucking perfect, and could probably make you cum undone with just his words.
You whimper slightly, glossy bottom lips still jutting at him and he tsks, “Nuh-uh… baby, I thought I told you not to be a brat.”
“Use your words, sweets.”
“Yes,” You breathed, barely, eyes opening wide to see the way his amber gaze darkened.
“Yes, what?” He taunted, grip on your body getting tighter.
“Y-yes, sir,” you gulped, gauging Eddie’s reaction obediently.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he smirks under his greedy moan, quick to let his hands roam around everywhere, fingertips slipping underneath the fragile fabric barely covering your slit, he groans when he realizes just how wet you are.
“Is that all for me, baby?” He hums into your mouth, swirling your slickness inside of your clit, grinning while having no mercy on your lips, all biting and nibbling.
You’re quick to nod, breathless when he’s basically everywhere, and it isn’t long before he frustratingly unties the stupid bow getting in the way of him and you.
With a growl he almost rips it apart, tossing it aside, and his eyes widen at the sight in front of him.
“F-fuck, princess, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he moans needily, eyes taking in the sight of you, naked, pooling for him. Perfect tits, waiting to be sucked by him, bare ass waiting to be marked up by him, crimson red handprints would look perfect on it, he decides.
He presses his plushy lips onto yours, desperate and sucking on your tongue, while his finger slides inside of your tight cunt, other grabbing onto your breasts, and you can do nothing more than mewl for him.
Then his finger retracts from your sloppy walls, you whine at the loss and he’s quick to shove his fingers down your throat, you happily accept it, sucking greedily on his fingers, tasting yourself on his fingers, it’s all so filthy and you throb more and more for him.
His darkened amber gaze is on you, almost groaning at the way you suck on his fingers, wishing he could fuck your greedy throat with his aching cock. But not now, because fuck, he needs to be inside of you.
With a growl he wastes no time picking you up, tossing you against the bed with a soft plop, and you giggle when he settles beneath your thighs, enjoying how rough and attentive he is.
His grabby hands are everywhere, hips rolling into you, but he’s far too clothed, yet you can still feel his bulge pressing against your thigh, making your sloppy cunt clench around nothing. You’re desperate, and he feels big, so big that your mouth waters at the thought of him not fitting into your mouth, his cock stretching you out, fully.
You tug at his pants, almost signaling for him to take them off, so that he could finally be inside of you. He taunts your desperate attempt with a breathy laugh, “Patience, doll,” he tuts, voice low and gravelly, making you hum sweetly.
He wets his lip before his lips attack you again, hands giving more attention to your breasts, pinching your nipples to earn more whines out of your pouted lips, wasting no time to dive down into your aching cunt, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your breasts, your stomach, and your dripping inner thighs, doing it all with a grin while he watches you shudder beneath him.
He takes his time admiring your pussy, padded thumb slightly playing with your clit as he watches your eyes squeeze shut at his movements, he groans at your lips glistening with arousal. Perfect, just fucking perfect. And he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle not being inside of you.
His cock is strained against his zipper, and it hurts, just the thought of your velvety walls engulfing him is enough to have him explode in his pants. He needs you.
“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he growls, head dipping between your shaking thighs, inhaling and tasting you once he places open-mouthed kisses on your pussy lips, and your clit, giving you all the attention you need.
“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, too,” he hums into your walls, lapping up at your juices like a man-starved, and you’re too far gone to register anything, nodding dumbly and trashing beneath him.
“Need you to sit on my face after we’re done, baby,” he purred. “But I need to fuck you now, doll, need to feel this tight cunt wrapped around my cock, yea?” He pulls back slightly, and you pout at the sudden loss of contact, it makes him grin, knowing how desperate you are for him.
Frustrated, and restrained, he unbuckles his belt quickly, even quicker to take off his boxers, with a hiss, his cock slaps against his stomach, your eyes widening with it.
No wonder you felt his bulge against your ass every time he passed by you, his cock slightly brushing against your ass, making you whimper quietly. No wonder you always felt the need to rub your thighs together when he wore those slutty grey sweatpants, he was packing.
Slightly curved to the left, thick, and deliciously beading with pre-cum, his angry crimson red tip faced your inner thighs, you nearly whined at the sight. “S-so big,” you murmured, doe-eyes looking up at him with so much promise.
“I’m going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated,” he grins up at you. “Gonna ruin you for everyone else, sweetheart.” You whine at that, his possessiveness slicking your thighs further as if that was even possible.
“P-please,” you looked up at him, desperate.
He tugs at his cock at your mewls, teeth drawing on his bottom lip at you. All sprawled out for him, legs spread apart, glistening pussy greedily waiting for his cock.
He reaches for the condom but you’re quick to stop him. “No, no. ‘M on the pill,” you murmured. He nearly groans at your words. The thought of fucking you raw, feeling your walls hug him sweetly shoots pleasure through his entire body.
“P-please, sir, wanna feel you,” you cry out, nearly wailing, glossy eyes looking down at him, pleading.
And who’s he to deny you?
“Want to feel you inside, fully, been waitin’ for this so long, Eds.” He groans at that, his cock aching, wanting to spill his load inside of you.
“Already, beggin’ honey?” A teasing throaty chuckle escapes his lips, he’s more than amused, letting just the tip of his fat cock tease over your entrance, pre-cum smearing all over your throbbing clit.
“Mhmm,” you unashamedly moan. “I need you, been spendin’ too much time, touching myself to the thought of you, your cock… Need you to stretch me, ruin me, wanna be yours so badly,” you whined, voice cracking as you desperately thrashed beneath him, his teasing making you pathetic and dumb.
That’s all he needed to hear before he slammed inside of you with a rough thrust, he couldn’t help himself, knowing that he could’ve had you all this time, made you his, and you were fucking touching yourself to the thought of him?
He was about to lose it, and you were quick to cry out at his size, your tight walls trying to accommodate his fat cock, feeling him stretching you fully.
“F-fuck!” He gritted through his teeth, holding onto your hips with a bruising hold. Your whines and your pussy clamping around his cock was enough to send him into a frenzy, wanting nothing more than to fill you up.
“Eds, t-too much,” you wail out, glossy eyes looking up at him.
“Ssshh, I know, baby, I know,” he coos condescendingly, making you whine more. “But you can handle it, can’t you, princess?” He bit on your bottom lip with a grin, “Look how well this greedy cunt is pullin’ me in,” he thrusts further into you with a groan.
You cry out at the intrusion, welcoming the way the slight pain turns fully into pleasure, his cock driving into you with such force that you can almost feel him everywhere. “See? Such a good girl f’me, mmpf, just like that, honey,” he praises, flutters fill your stomach and heat rushes to your cheeks.
He’s so perfect and you’re so proud to be his good girl. His padded thumb is quick to find its way to your clit, circling it gently to elicit more pretty whines from you. “This is mine, now.”
With a groan, “you’re all mine.” He continues to gloriously pump into you, enjoying the way you look so fucked out, his fingertips rubbing against your clit, you feel so full, so fucking full. Eyes lulling the more his cock dives deeper into you.
“All yours, daddy,” you breathe, not realizing what you just said, it makes Eddie hiss loudly as his movements pick up, eyes rolling to the back of his head with a delicious growl spilling from his lips.
You’re going to be the fucking death of him.
“P-princess, fuck, Jesus fuckin’, you can’t just say shit like that to me,” He spills out through gritted teeth, enjoying the way you move your hips against him, desperate for more friction.
“Look at you, shit,” Eddie groaned, pressing his thumb into your clit with more pressure, circling it with a grin, cock hitting that spongey spot deliciously while your back arched in pleasure.
Babbles, and incoherent pleas left your lips, and Eddie grinned at the way you looked so cockdrunk on him, clenching around his cock, letting him know that you were getting closer.
“Such a whore for me, aren’t ya?” He mocked, rough hands squeezing your cheeks as he made you look at him, “Love the way you go so dumb on me, pretty girl, not a single thought in that lil’ head of yours, only my cock, isn’t that right?”
Your breathing picks up at his words, orgasm pooling in your tummy, you know you’re about to lose it soon, “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, not even knowing what you were begging for, it was all too much, his filthy words, his thumb on your clit, the way he was deep inside of your walls, hitting spots you didn’t know that existed.
He growls at that, sinking further into you, “I know, baby,” he murmurs into your heated skin, reveling in the way you claw at his back, freshly manicured nails marking him. “You wanna cum, pretty girl? Go ahead, and cream my cock like the good girl you are, hmm?” His hold on your hips was rough, his other hand still circling your swollen clit, hips smacking against yours with such force that you were sure you were entirely gone now.
“Come with me, Daddy,” Is what you managed to slip past your lips before you couldn’t handle it anymore, head falling back, mouth forming into a perfect ‘o’ shape, you felt that tight coil snap in your tummy, making your vision blurry as you sobbed beneath him.
Your pussy squeezed and gripped his cock deliciously and with one more of his hips rutting into you, your orgasm was quick to trigger his. “Shit, gon- gonna fuck my load into you, angel.” He growled through gritted teeth, thrusts becoming shallow.
“Gonna fill you with so much cum that y-you won’t get it outta you for days, f-fuck!”
“Feel s-so fuckin, good, baby, shit, shit, shit!” He grunted, and finally spilled his load inside of you with a loud groan, painting your overstimulated walls, cock twitching inside of you as his groans mixed with yours.
Breathless, fucked out, and just a little sated, he was quick to slip out of you only when he made sure your pussy milked him dry and that every single drop was inside of you.
Both of you struggled to come down from your highs, all those years of pent-up sexual frustration too much to even sate.
“We’re nowhere near done,” Eddie hummed breathlessly, his head cocking toward you.
With a smirk, you turned to him. “Oh, yeah?” You quirked a brow, excitement, and pleasure were quick to pool at your tummy.
“Mmmhmm, still need to punish you for that whole Chris thing, princess. Even though it worked,” He gave you a hearty chuckle, “Don’t think you can tease me like that and get away with it, pretty girl.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“Those Christmas lights you hung up on that tree,” He pointed toward the giant tree, decorated with lots of flashy lights.
“I’ve heard they were a really good substitute for ropes, hmm? And the best form of punishment for bratty girls,” he grinned wickedly, attacking your lips again without giving you a chance to breathe.
Hozier is coming to a festival in my home state and I screamed when I somehow got tickets….only to find out Noah Kahan is coming the weekend after- I told my mother I would sell my Kidney to see Hozier live and my Cervix to see Noah live 🧍🏽♀️ I’ll see myself out 🛏️🚶♀️
♫ This is Halloween, everybody make a scene
Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright
It's our town, everybody scream
In this town of Halloween ♫
The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) dir. Henry Selick
Okay so, holy fuck…I just read ‘Dead Poets Society’ and I’m not okay. I’ve read a lot of books in my life, for fun or for school and none have ever touched me the way this book has. Don’t get me wrong, there are a plethora of stories I adore. I enjoy writing for the ones I adore. But the way Dead Poets made me feel was beyond a way I could even comprehend. I sobbed uncontrollably as I finished the book, longing for it to not end as I turned the last page. The ending ripped my heart from my chest and has sealed itself in the words. I don’t think I will ever recover from the way that book made me feel.
