Eddie Munson my LOVE

“What the fuck, Damien?” You scoff, pushing his hand off your shoulder—his cheap way of trying to “console” you. 

“Whaaat, baby? No harsh feelings or nothin’. That’s just rock n’ roll. You know how it is.” He smirks, tightening his grip around his new plaything for the night. 

“You can always join, y’know. The more the merrier.” 

Your body revolts merely on principle alone. You weren’t shy to perform that sort of request before, but now it's different. Or was, anyway. To your knowledge, you and Damien had been “exclusive” for about six months. 

At any award show, you were his arm candy. Drunk? His first call. Post-show stress reliever? You were already anticipating his arrival in his trailer. 

There weren’t any official or established labels, but you sure as shit knew Damien Thatcher wanted you and only you, all to himself. Until now, at least. 

His new plaything stared at you with glazed-over eyes, clearly off of whatever good shit Jeff bought earlier that evening, lips curled into a smug smirk. 

You shook your head and waved them off, scoffing before sashaying away towards the living room. When you arrived, to your surprise, the living room was empty, and the band's usual buffet of substances was left unsupervised on the glass coffee table. 

The Corroded Coffin mansion was rarely this quiet; post-show parties were basically a must during tour season. But here you were, sitting on the couch, a massive array of drugs staring back at you, and not another soul in sight. That was until the front door opened. 

Eddie Munson, the band’s frontman, wandered in from smoking his usual every-twenty-minute cigarette. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed him before. That would’ve been impossible, honestly. Not when he looked like that.

The man had become something of a rockstar sex symbol over the last few years, and for good reason. Long dark curls, tattooed body, and a grin that somehow managed to look both dangerous and inviting at the exact same time. He carried himself with the kind of confidence that only came from knowing exactly who he was.

And unlike Damien, who constantly demanded attention from every person in a room, Eddie never seemed to need it. It just found him anyway.

You'd caught yourself watching him more than once during shows, standing side stage with a drink in your hand as he commanded entire stadiums with nothing but a microphone and a crooked smile. He was attractive in the same way thunderstorms were attractive: beautiful, loud, and probably a terrible idea.

Not that it mattered; you were Damien’s girl. Or at least, you thought you were.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had noticed you a long time ago. Long before Damien had started dragging you around on his arm. Long before you became a familiar face backstage. Long before he'd ever learned your name.

Because truthfully? You were impossible not to notice. Every venue, every afterparty, it didn't matter where. Eddie's eyes always found you eventually.

Maybe it was the confidence. The way you carried yourself like you belonged wherever you happened to be standing. Maybe it was your attitude; the sharp tongue, the sarcastic remarks, the fact that you never seemed particularly impressed by fame despite spending most of your time surrounded by it.

Or maybe it was simpler than that. You were just fucking gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that didn't feel manufactured.

Messy lipstick at three in the morning. Smudged eyeliner after a concert. Leather jackets thrown over tiny dresses. Cigarettes shared on balconies overlooking cities you'd forget by next week.

You looked like every rock song he'd ever written and every bad decision he'd ever wanted to make. Not that he'd ever done anything about it; you were Damien's.

And despite what most magazines liked to print about him, Eddie wasn't in the habit of chasing after things that belonged to other people. 

So he'd settled for watching. For knowing exactly which laugh was yours in a crowded room. For pretending he wasn't disappointed whenever Damien draped an arm around your shoulders. For occasionally wondering what a girl like you was doing wasting her time with a guy like him.

Now, as he stepped into the empty living room and spotted you sitting alone on the couch, his brow furrowed slightly. Because for the first time since he'd known you, you looked genuinely and wholeheartedly miserable.

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. “Well, that can't be good.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Fuck off.”

Eddie blinked. That wasn't exactly the response he'd been expecting. Over the years, the two of you had developed something of a comfortable acquaintanceship. You'd traded enough sarcastic remarks and drunken conversations over the years that he knew you weren't usually this hostile. Not towards him, anyway. 

Which meant something had happened.

“Jesus.” He snorted, tossing himself into an armchair across from the couch. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“Why does everyone always use that expression?”

“Because it's funny.”

“It isn't.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, Eddie figured that'd be the end of it. You'd tell him to mind his own business, and he'd steal a beer and leave. Simple.

Instead, your shoulders sagged, ever so slightly. But enough that Eddie immediately noticed.

“Alright.” His voice softened. “What's wrong?”

You stared down at your hands. The anger was already fading, which almost made everything worse. At least being angry felt productive; now you just felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed that you'd somehow convinced yourself Damien actually cared. Embarrassed that everyone would probably know by tomorrow morning. Embarrassed that after six months of acting like his girlfriend, you'd apparently never been one at all.

“Damien cheated on me.”

Eddie stared. Then he looked away, dragging his tongue across the inside of his cheek.

Because that was not the reaction he was supposed to have, not even a little bit. The correct response was sympathy or outrage.

The correct response was literally anything besides the sudden rush of excitement currently threatening to make him grin like an asshole.

So he swallowed it. “What'd he do?”

You laughed bitterly.

“What'd he do?” you repeated. “Oh, nothing crazy. Just invited me into a room to watch him fuck crack-head Amy.”

Eddie's jaw tightened. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“What'd he say?”

“His exact words were, ‘that's just rock n' roll, baby.’”

For the first time all evening, Eddie looked genuinely horrified. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No, he did not.”

“I swear to God.”

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face. “That's the most embarrassing thing I've ever heard.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “Right?”

“Like, forget cheating for a second.” He pointed at you. “That line alone should get him arrested.”

A laugh escaped before you could stop it. And Eddie felt his chest do something stupid, because there it was. That laugh, the one he'd spent years overhearing from across crowded green rooms. The one he'd always found himself listening for without meaning to.

You shook your head. “I feel like an idiot.”

Eddie shook his head in response, plopping down next to you on the couch. 

“Nah, you’re not an idiot. ‘That’s just rock n roll, baby.’” He put on an exaggerated macho voice. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

You laughed again. “I don't know.”

“No, seriously.” Eddie leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I've been in rock n' roll for years. I practically invented being an asshole. And even I have no clue what that's supposed to mean.”

“Maybe it's in the handbook.”

“The handbook?”

“The Official Rock Star Handbook.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Right. Chapter seven: How to Cheat on Women and Make it Sound Deep.”

“Chapter eight: Cocaine.”

“Chapter nine: Buy leather pants two sizes too small.”

You snorted. “Chapter ten: Develop a God complex.”

“Chapter eleven: Die at twenty-seven.”

The joke landed with a little less humor than the others. Then Eddie sighed dramatically and reached toward the coffee table.

“Well.”

You watched as he sorted through the various substances scattered across the glass.

“Well, what?”

“Well, we have two options here.”

“Which are?”

Eddie held up a finger.

“Option one: you continue sitting here feeling sorry for yourself over a man who voluntarily chose to say the words ‘that's just rock n' roll, baby’ out loud.”

You groaned.

“See? Already sounds terrible.”

“Exactly.”

He held up a second finger. “Option two.”

Your eyes followed him as he picked up a small baggie from the table. “You do a little cocaine and get your mind off it.”

You stared at him. “That's your professional recommendation?”

“Absolutely.”

“You're a terrible therapist.”

“Good thing I'm a musician.”

A reluctant smile crept onto your face. “Jesus Christ.”

“Listen.” Eddie shrugged. “I'm not saying it'll solve your problems.”

“No?”

“Not even a little.”

“Great.”

“But it might make you stop thinking about Damien for twenty minutes.”

You considered it, mostly because there wasn't much else to do. 

“Or.” He tossed the baggie back onto the table. “We could sit here and talk shit about him.”

That earned another laugh. “That's a little immature.”

“It's extremely immature.”

“And you're offering it as an alternative?”

“I think it's actually healthier than the cocaine.”

“That's a low bar.”

“Still.”

You sat back, then shook your head, reaching across the table to the small baggie. “May I?”

Eddie leaned back, draping both arms across the back of the couch. “Please. Shit talking will be way more fun coked-out anyway.”

His eyes drifted over your face for a brief second before looking away again.

Because now that you were laughing and leaning over the table, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember why he'd ever convinced himself you were off limits.

Especially considering Damien Thatcher had apparently just fumbled the hottest woman he'd ever seen.

The night went like so for hours: Eddie’s long fingers working with practiced ease, cutting two neat lines on the glass table with a hotel key card.

The faint chemical tang already hung in the air, mixing with the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke and spilled whiskey that clung to every surface of the mansion. 

He passed you a rolled-up bill without a word, his dark eyes catching yours for a second longer than necessary.

You leaned in. One sharp inhale, and the world sharpened at the edges, warmth blooming fast behind your ribs.

Eddie did his own line right after, then chased it with a generous pull from the bottle of Jack he’d grabbed from the side table. He offered it to you next, and you took it, the burn sliding down your throat like liquid fire.

“Fuck,” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The coke hit quick; euphoric, electric, loosening the knot of humiliation that had been sitting heavy in your chest.

Eddie grinned that crooked, dangerous smile and slid closer on the couch. Not a safe distance next to you, but right beside you. His thigh pressed against yours, the heat of him bleeding through his jeans. 

“Better?” he asked, voice low. 

You nodded, leaning into the feeling. “Yeah. A lot better.”

He didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted so his arm draped along the back of the couch was behind your shoulders, fingers brushing the bare skin of your arm where your dress left it exposed.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, tilting his head so his curls fell forward, brushing your shoulder, “Damien’s a fucking idiot. Always has been. But tonight? Christ, he really outdid himself.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth, unashamed. The kind of look that made your pulse jump.

You laughed softly. “You’re not exactly subtle right now, Munson.”

“Subtle’s never been my brand, sweetheart.” His fingers traced a lazy circle on your shoulder, then drifted higher, thumb grazing the side of your neck.

“Been watching you waste six months on that clown. Figured it was time someone reminded you what you’re worth.”

The words hit like another line. You turned toward him, knees knocking together, and he didn’t hesitate. Eddie’s free hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your lower lip before he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t tentative. It was hungry; months, maybe years, of restrained want pouring out in the press of his mouth. 

His lips were warm, tasting like whiskey and sin, and when you parted for him, he groaned softly into the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with filthy confidence. The hand on your neck tightened, tilting your head exactly how he wanted as he deepened it.

You kissed him back just as hard, fingers threading into those wild curls, tugging until he made that low, wrecked sound again.

Eddie pulled back just enough to speak against your lips, voice gravel-rough. “Fuck, you taste good.” 

His other hand slid down your side, then slipped under the hem of your dress. Calloused fingertips traced up your thigh, achingly slow, until they reached the lace edge of your panties. He teased there for a moment, watching your face like he was memorizing every reaction.

“Eddie…” you breathed, hips shifting toward his touch.

“Yeah?” He smirked, eyes dark. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t, obviously.

Instead, you pulled him back into another messy kiss, and he took that as permission. His fingers pushed the lace aside and slid through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you already were. “Shit, baby. This all for me?”

Two fingers circled your clit with practiced pressure before dipping lower, pressing inside you; slow at first, then deeper, curling just right. The stretch and the steady rhythm had you gasping into his mouth, thighs parting wider on the couch. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered against your jaw, nipping at the skin there while his thumb kept working your clit. “You’re so fucking tight. Been thinking about this… about how you’d feel around me.”

Your head fell back against the couch, hips rocking to meet his hand, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet living room. Eddie watched you the whole time, lips parted, curls wild, looking every bit the “rockstar sex symbol” the magazines called him. But this close, it was just Eddie; chaotic, intense, and completely focused on pulling you apart.

He kissed you again, swallowing your moan as his fingers sped up, curling against that perfect spot inside you until your thighs started to tremble.

Then, just as the edge started building, he slowed and withdrew his hand. You whined at the loss, but Eddie only grinned and brought his glistening fingers to his mouth. He licked them clean while holding your gaze. “Such a sweet thing you are.”

You moaned in response, taking his hand out of his mouth and placing his digits in your own. The sound that left his throat made your thighs tremble. You bobbed your head and sucked his fingers until the taste of your sex was gone. He grinned at the sight. 

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he said, voice wrecked. He stood and offered you his hand, pulling you up against his chest. “My room’s upstairs. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

His arm wrapped around your waist as he guided you toward the staircase. The door to Eddie’s room barely clicked shut before he had you pinned against it. His mouth crashed back onto yours, all teeth and tongue and zero patience now that you were alone in his domain. 

One hand fisted in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back and expose your throat so he could bite down the column of it, sucking hard enough to leave marks you’d feel tomorrow. The other hand shoved your dress up around your waist, as if to offend him.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he growled against your skin. “Been waiting fucking months to get my hands on you like this.”

You laughed breathlessly and shoved at his leather jacket until it hit the floor. “Then stop talking and do something about it, Munson.”

Eddie pulled back just far enough to grin at you; eyes blown black, curls messy. 

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot of somethin’, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you forget that asshole ever existed.”

He dropped to his knees right there in front of the door.

Your panties were ripped down your legs and tossed somewhere behind him before you could blink. Then his mouth was on you. Hot, wet, filthy. No teasing. No slow build. Eddie licked a broad stripe up your cunt like he was starving, then sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard enough to make your knees buckle.

“Jesus—Fuck—Eddie—”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you wider, and groaned like you tasted better than anything he’d ever put in his body. 

Two fingers pushed inside you again, curling viciously while his tongue worked your clit in tight, relentless circles. The wet sounds were obscene. He didn’t care. He moaned into you every time your hips jerked against his face, like getting you off was the only thing that mattered.

“Fuck, listen to you,” he rasped between licks, voice wrecked. “Already dripping down my wrist. Damien’s never made you this wet, now did he?”

You couldn’t even answer. Your head thunked back against the door as he added a third finger, stretching you open, fucking you on his hand while he sucked and licked like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else. The pressure built fast, way too fast, to where your thighs were shaking around his head.

He pulled off right as you started to tip over the edge.

You whined, high and frustrated, and he just laughed, dark and delighted, wiping his shiny mouth with the back of his hand as he stood.

“Not yet, angel,” he said, voice low. “Wanna feel you come on my cock first.”

He manhandled you toward the bed, so much so that you barely got a glimpse of the room (guitars on stands, posters peeling off the walls) before he spun you around and bent you over the edge of the mattress.

The sound of his belt and zipper was loud in the room. Then the thick, hot weight of his cock slapped against your ass. Eddie dragged the head through your folds, coating himself in your slick, teasing your entrance.

“Gonna fuck you so deep you feel me for days,” he promised, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. The other fisted in your hair again, pulling your head back so he could lean over and speak right against your ear. 

“Gonna fill this pretty pussy up. Make sure you remember whose cum is leaking out of you tomorrow when that loser tries to talk to you again.”

He pushed in.

One long, relentless thrust that stretched you wide and punched the air from your lungs. Eddie didn’t give you time to adjust; he bottomed out with a groan that sounded like it was ripped from his chest, then started fucking you like he meant to break the bed.

The pace was brutal. Skin slapping skin. His hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt you up the mattress with every thrust. The hand in your hair kept your back arched, the other sliding around to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel better than I imagined,” he panted, voice strained. “So tight. So fuckin’ wet. Taking me so good, baby. That’s it—squeeze me just like that.”

You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every thrust. Every drag of his cock against your walls felt electric.

Eddie leaned down, chest pressed to your back, and bit at your shoulder. 

“Tell me,” he demanded, hips never slowing. “Tell me his dick never felt like this.”

“Never—fuck, Eddie—never felt like this—”

“That’s right.” He sounded smug and feral at the same time. “Weak-ass little dick couldn’t make you scream like this. Couldn’t make you this fuckin’ messy.” His fingers on your clit sped up. “You’re mine now. Say it.”

The pace was so brutal you could only speak gibberish, which Eddie did not take a liking to. So, naturally, he sped up more than you thought humanly possible and growled into your ear, “Fucking. Say. It.”

You were close again, the edge rushing up fast. “Yours—Eddie, I’m yours—”

He growled, low and satisfied, and pulled out just long enough to flip you onto your back. 

Your legs were shoved up and over his shoulders as he slammed back in, folding you nearly in half. The new angle had him hitting so deep it bordered on too much.

Eddie’s hand wrapped around your throat—perfectly tight enough to cut off air and just enough pressure to make your head spin in the best way. His thumb stroked your pulse while he fucked you harder, eyes locked on yours.

“Look at me when you come,” he ordered. “Wanna watch you fall apart on my cock.”

You did. The orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision whited out for a second. You clenched around him, crying out his name, and Eddie fucked you straight through it, pace turning erratic.

“Fuck—gonna come—gonna fill you up—” His rhythm stuttered. He buried himself and came with a broken groan, pulsing hot and deep inside you. His hips kept rolling in short, shallow thrusts like he was trying to push it even deeper, claiming every inch.

He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard. Then he kissed you, slower this time, but no less possessive, while he was still buried inside you.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and satisfied.

“Tapped out already?” he murmured, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “Damn. And I’m not even close to done with you yet.” His cock twitched inside you, already starting to harden again.

The night was young, and Eddie Munson had no intention of letting you leave his bed until the sun came up and every trace of Damien Thatcher had been fucked out of your system.

mmmmm this one was......🫣

taglist:

@bitterestwillow @lnnn1n @youngbrokefab @ludachrissy @sisteramycatherine @izzycstairs @britttzy267 @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @sariahs-stuff @cciessuzi @lilyquinnmunson @julxsxx @kozume-ko @obsessed-eddie @doomdabss @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses @meadows-of-asphodel @whitakerstorm @brrrainst3w @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullsteve @peachpuffs25 @micheledawn1975 @whitakerstorm @cciessuzi @blackqueenie-18 @ggdawgg @velvetdimond @enne02  @ludachrissy @izzycstairs

@abbysleftbicepp @britttzy267 @ssculker @eddiemunsonsimpp @powerpuffedbjtch @kylorensbaby

𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 🤍 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 . . . 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 . . . 🤍

+

“Say it again, Sweetheart,” Eddie says.

You wriggle out of his grasp, evading childish scrutiny. Eddie’s big brown eyes follow you everywhere, they always have; those deep, dark valleys of death shadowing your every move. Tonight, flickering soft and sweet, just for you. Only you.

“Don’t be shy, honey… It’s jus’ you and me.” Feeling brave, he even touches your hand, cupping your fingers in his tepid palm, and swells a little inside when you don’t try to fight it.

But there’s no escaping his fervid gaze, or his wandering touch. “I want you to,” you succumb, no louder than a borrowed breath. But it’s enough.

Mm… He deliberates with a hand settled over his mouth, staring out the shrouded windows of the wooden house, little tufts of winter wind riding the air like a lingering fog. Beyond the serrated mountaintops of the rippling valley, that speckled haze of neon glow bleeds incandescent like a northern star, those distant city skylines the apparition of broken dreams. So close, yet too far; just enough to sustain the starvation of hope.

Oblivious to your wanting, Eddie smiles.

“Good girl, tellin’ Teddie.” It’s an olive branch, a turning page. He dips a devilish hand below your billowing shirt, petting his fingers over your tautened sex, and coaxes you further into feeble submission. “So perfect, bein’ honest.”

“You gonna be good f’me, angel?” Eddie coos, nodding, the abnormal affection making you dizzy with need. He can feel you throb against his callused thumb. “I know you do, sugar. Always makin’ Teddie proud… Pretty baby doesn’t need her muzzle anymore.”

He’s trusting me, you think. Why is he trusting you? The flicker of hope stifles as soon as it started:

“Daddy’s gonna get you your medicine, and then he can untie you, okay?” Eddie strokes your face, cupping your cheek in his massive palm.

In the beginning, you would have bitten him just for touching you. There are still marks from the first few times you ripped too hard through the pallid flesh, all gnashing blood and glazen teeth. Your jaw aches just thinking about it: That round, pink ball gag buckled into your mouth, defending Eddie from yourself. Spit trickling down your luscious tits, dribbling onto your stomach as he mothered you.

You don’t regret the decision; Eddie should know, more than anyone, that you wouldn’t go down without a fight; that ten-pound heart of a stubborn horse grazing blood through your veins. Still, you find yourself hungering to kiss him, now; suture closed the opaline scars that still linger like a shifting shadow, letting stitches dissolve by way of grief. And you don’t even protest as he’s sedating you.

Pretty baby doesn’t need her muzzle . . .

When Teddie returns with a glass of water, you curl into his touch, letting him hold your head and feed you like a invalid. You never thought it would end up this way: the eldest Munson, bruised and bleeding, living and dying for you alone. That strange man from the auto-repair shop, transfigured into the most unusual daydream of somebody who loves you.

“Good girl, pretty baby. Drink it all up…”

You do as you’re told, sitting and drinking and nodding and smiling, the marionette inside your ribs dialed into his desire.

“Please,” you plead, at a loss for words, losing patience for the prelude. Eddie knows just what you need.

Conceding, he undresses you slow — thumbing down your frilly pink panties; splaying your naked body against the cool linen sheets; taunting and teasing like he hasn’t wanted this for months. You, lying beneath him, begging for his touch. Just like how it used to be.

Eddie flashes a timid, doting grin, chin dipping to his chest, only the metal chain around your leg belaying your tenure. He slips his key inside the bolt, massaging your loosened ankle in his palm, and edges open your jellied thigh.

“Thas’ a good baby,” Eddie hums, speaking soft enough for him to make you feel Safe. You were always safe with him. He only wishes you would stop hurting yourself — quit trying to get away. It’s a losing battle you’ll never win; not so long as he’s around. That metal leash is for your good.

But tonight, he can mend every little bump and bruise that mars your weary flesh; untie the ribbon of stones beneath your feet to release you from your sins. He’ll kiss every splotch of thickened blood burrowed deep beneath the skin. His perfect peach… He could eat you right up.

Eyes laden with thirst, neglected pussy dripping on the bed, you watch him dip his head of curls between your legs, his brown eyes burnishing with reverence as he kisses your cunt. Eddie spreads your lips with a flattened nose, breathing in your sugared scent; threading a finger into your bush to uncover that sweetest baby button from beneath. You squirm at the sudden warmth, little whines escaping your lips without any concessions from your mind.

“That feel good, angel?” But he’s already mastered your language of pleasure, sweeping his fingertips over your skin, following every curve and cadence like the etchings on a vinyl.

Even if it were true, you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Neither lucid nor dreaming, you nod feverishly, hips betraying your better conscience, the frenetic tilt of your spine enough to justify your accord: You wanted this. You needed him.

“Makin’ Daddy feel good, too,” Eddie purrs against your cunt, rutting his rigid cock along the edge of the bed. “Teddie loves you so much, sugar…” He places a sticky kiss over the perennial bruise on your shackled ankle, massaging your foot in his meaty hand. This was all to keep you Safe. Eddie knew you loved him, too — and for the first time since your homecoming, you really wanted him. You asked him to. Eddie simply cannot control himself, overeager at his best. “You wanna taste, puppy?”

Crawling over your softened form to cage your shoulders in his arms, Eddie cups your pebbled breast, kissing slow your flaccid tongue. “Pussy’s so sweet, n’ so drippy… My silly strawberry girl. Gonna take such good care of you, ’promise. Give you kisses every day, n’ all the cuddles late at night — never gonna be alone again. Daddy’s pretty little girl… I love you so much, Sweetheart.”

You can only blink, acutely vapid, though somehow craving more. I need you, a little voice resounds inside your head — but you can’t discern whether it’s your own. All the same, you wrap your legs around his narrow hips, curling into his neck as he kisses your head.

“Needy kitty, huh, baby?” Eddie coos, cupping your naked pussy in his hand, and he stills your canted hips with the other. You never even realized that you had moved, your desperate cunt keen to follow its fervor.

“Please,” you speak again, barely choking the words.

“Nnh-mm.” He shakes his head in disapproval, licking your nipple across his salted tongue, and releases you with a subtle pop. “Want you to be brave, princess.”

Suckled good and dumb, you correct yourself, suddenly bashful at the word. “Please, Daddy.”

Eddie beams. It’s like music to his ears.

“Good puppy,” he rewards, grazing your nipples into his teeth. Someday, he’s gonna train these lil’ titties to make some milk for him… Let you take good care of him, while Eddie’s taking care of you. That mercurial lust for your dribbling breast, thick and heavy with his milk, is enough to stiffen his balls against your ass… Kissing his cock against your clit is not enough.

You reach down between his legs; you want it —

“Fuck my pussy,” you whine, docile and dolly-eyed as you service his cock. That’s exactly how Eddie likes you; silken soft and submissive for your Daddy. Just like putty in his hands, free to mold you in his image.

Eddie laughs, petting your hairline, so unusually elated. “Meds makin’ you loopy? S’okay, Sweetheart… Get some rest, puppy. You need it.” He’s right, though you wouldn’t care to admit; you haven’t suffered a full night’s rest since the very first. Daddy doesn’t want to drug you unless you’re being a danger to yourself, but tonight seems as good as any to examine the effects of your stature on Thorazine. In spite of delirium, Eddie shows no signs of slowing.

Though inert, you're wide awake, violently conscious, the blood tight in your neck like a full-throated scream, watching his daydream unspool in a wicked blur. It’s warm, wet; needy. Your consensual unwinding, which was long overdue. Eddie’s cock is far too large for a pussy your size, crowding every inch until it reaches your womb. Your stomach bloats, aching, staked and claimed by his leviathan cock up your cunt.

“Want these big balls fuckin’ a baby in you?” He grunts, accenting each word with a forcible thrust. “Keep you sittin’ on my cock, my little doll to fuck n’ breed?”

Teddie’s too big, but never enough. You could never tell him how you’ve grown to love being his slutty doll — letting him use and abuse; rot your lipstick corpse like an acid rain; keep your pretty, plastic head anchored on in his hands… Eddie’s convinced it would pop right off, if your Daddy didn’t protect you. Head and heart, never one without the other. Never half without a whole.

Staring into your smitten gaze, watching your chest rise and quiver like a broken wing, Eddie sighs in content, his hairy ballsack drooling with slick. “Need you so fuckin’ bad... Never letting you go.”

Never. It’s been six long months without a tangible end; from the basement, to the bedroom, in his lap and on his cock; some fucked up part of you careening for more. Days sprawled out into an endless string of solace, little reprieves dog-eared by Eddie’s presence. At the end of it all, you don’t want to be alone — you don’t want to go without.

“Missed your Daddy’s big cock, huh, honey? I know, angel. Daddy missed kissing you without your pretty muzzle,” Eddie rests his ample weight across your chest, your delicate fingers adorning his neck, and breeds you like a predator and its prey. Daddy’s wicked laugh encircles your ear, making you shudder from beneath, his hot air settling into your skin like wet ink. “Pussy’s right where she belongs. Giving Daddy wet kisses, nice n’ snug on Teddie’s lap,”

You shiver, your shoulders erected in goosebumps like a flickering flame, the elation alight until it swallows you whole.

“Are you Daddy’s dirty baby?” Eddie purrs, smearing that sweet juice all over your bush, tugging at the pretty hair, massaging your clit with a dexterous hand. When he pinches your bud, a strangled yelp crawls out of your throat, mouth parting for his pleasure. Dipping his fist onto the swell of your tongue, Eddie flexes his rings, your sodden gags making his cock lurch. “Such a pretty pussy, babe. Aren’t you Teddie’s pretty hole?”

“You love bein’ fucked like a little slut… Havin’ Daddy do all the thinking for ya,” He digs his fingertips harder onto your clit, quickening the cadence, and dips his tongue in your mouth until the only air that you can breathe belongs to Him. Your only love. He rubs his sloppy lip against yours, writhing tongue dripping slick in your mouth, that phallic tip rubbing you just right inside your belly.

“That what you want, baby? Bein’ Daddy’s fuckin’ slut? You don’t have to say anything, angel. Daddy knows eeeverything that goes on, up in this pretty little head.” Eddie moans, picturing the pink of your guts slipping around him, straining with hunger to accommodate your Daddy’s need.

So perfect. His only angel, the false prophet of sin and sex. Every wicked addiction enraptured in one, an unbreakable vice. You’ve rewired his veins. There’s an acute, primeval urge to spurt his cock in your cunt; press his cum in your hole until it reaches your brain; fuck you good and sweet and dumb until you’re nothing but a slut for him to breed. His archangel — Judas kiss. He could worship you forever; a beautiful, wilting rose; without any care for the cost.

“Eddie,” You mewl in his ear, the final rain that broke the dam, his sticky seed engulfing your womb. It’s been so long since you’ve whispered his name — as if a curse, an unspeakable thing — but when he fucks you sloppy, you sing it ten times over.

That’s it, baby. Let it go for me.

“Love you s’much,” your Daddy says, bidding a promise. Eddie kisses your limp, slackened jaw, riding into you until your pussy pops. You could never make him stop loving you. “Good slut, honey, takin’ all of Daddy’s puppies… Pussy’s so tight n’ sweet,”

He’s seeing stars, shoving his face in your hair, getting high off the smell of your sex. Every wretched part of you belongs to him. And when he opens his eyes, you’re still lying right there; you’re never leaving him, now. Eddie swallows, panting, and trails his stout fingers over your head.

You’re a dirty girl again, dripping from the mouth and sex, your slobbered cries inscribing his neck. Teeth and tongue meet willing flesh as you bite down, a wonderful lust that incises his skin — your little fangs splitting open his blood, eager lips on pallid skin, as if the first few marks against his grislied flesh were not enough to consign him a believer. It’s not enough to cause him harm; you’re such a delicate, fickle pup, overcome with your emotion. But the hint of red across your teeth as he kisses your lip, a meager two or three drops, is enough to make him believe that you’ve changed. You really love him. And he’s never wanted you more.

Eddie shifts atop your form, allowing better room to breathe, and pulls the covers up your chest.

“Here, Sweetheart,” Eddie strokes your hair, speaking slowly, praising his little fuck-puppy after a treat. “It’s almost dusk. Let me run us a bath,”

As he moves to leave, standing tall from the bed, you clutch ahold of his wrist. When he turns back to face you, Eddie couldn’t mask the riddle of shock that embowers his face. This, he wasn’t expecting.

“No,” you whimper, knowing you couldn’t budge a finger if you tried. “Please… Stay.”

It’s an unspoken plea: Please don’t leave me stranded here. Please don’t close the door.

And again, he pets your hair — silly girl — thumbing your pointed nipples through the sheets. His sleepy baby; you’re not accustomed to that sort of exertion of his love. It’s been so long since he worshipped you this way.

“Alright, sugar… We can lay down.” Eddie feels a spark of triumph igniting his chest. You would even fall asleep with his seed, sticky-sweetened honey milk as it trickles down your leg. He’s never gonna wash that linen stain, an eternal thumbprint of your basest needs — proof that you really wanted him, if only for an hour. Cosigned in your name.

Eddie wraps his beefy arm around your hip, pressing you firmly to his chest. “Want Daddy to kiss your pretty pussy n’ help you sleep?”

You can still feel the ghost of his mouth between your thighs, wet lips on kindled ash, petals parted for your taste.

“No,” you repeat — a tiny, whispering sound as you transcended back to earth. For once, Teddie listens, splaying your naked pussy on his thumb; he stirs his fingers in the pot, licking clean your lewd excess.

“Mm…” He groans, his rigid dick against your back. “Just gonna sit you on my cock, so I can pump my pups in you all night,” Eddie lifts your leg, shoving the tip in your hole, already leaking precum down your thigh. “Ahhh. Good baby. Warm up Daddy’s fat cock,”

You keen back into his chest, reaching down to pet his balls. When the sun sinks low against the trees, you can barely keep your eyes open.

Daddy chuckles, your heartbeat softened as you snuggle his dick. That warm hand settles over your stomach, feeling your womb re-inflate with his cock deep inside. Your first fuck was heaven-sent, and the second just as sweet; every time he touches you feels like a waking dream.

“Love you, Daddy,” you slur, speaking it freely without command; he nearly misses it, your little noises muffled as you nuzzle the sheets.

Eddie doesn’t skip a beat, grinding harder on your ass. “Daddy loves you, sugar… Get some rest, angel. And maybe tomorrow, I can wake you up with some of Daddy’s cum inside your mouth,”

By way of response, you shiver and sigh, lapsing into unconscious. You’ve never looked so… Relaxed. Eddie tucks you further in his chest, keeping you clutched around his cock, and peppers his kisses along your neck.

“I’m gonna love you forever, Sweetheart.”

And he intends to keep his promise.

✦ Author’s Note: Halloween companion to my Ghostface!Eddie fic, with similar vibes. Remember, it is okay to enjoy darker kinks. You are loved. You are safe. Thanks for indulging my poetic shit, Happy Halloween !! 🎃⭐️ REBLOG + COMMENT, if you enjoy :)

𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣. ⟡ Kidnapper!Leon Kennedy fic + Psycho II (’83), Amityville (79) + Yandere art via BunnyGirILover45 ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧ 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 🫧

✦ Taglist: @ali-r3n @anonymouskiwi @artrmss @bl00d-puppy @borkbarks @cinnamoncunt @crookedteethed @emma-munson @feral-pumpkin-energy @fictionaldaze @galacticglitterglue @gri959 @jamdoughnutmagician @josephs-quinns @kingstevesgf @lalalala-melmosworld @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @littlenymphreads @lovlygrls @mothellie @motleyhead @munsonsmocha @munsonzgf @myherometalhead @niallersfreckles @paradisepoisons @pervertedangel @seatnights @skye-44 ✦ Notify to be removed 💫

new headcanon unlocked: eddie who looks after the sick and stray cats that pass through the trailer park 

they might not have much, but eddie would leave a small amount of his dinner out for them as a treat from all the dry food scattered on the porch. he also helps the local shelter with their TNR programs.

I also like the idea of wayne tolerating the smaller animals, but when the racoons show up, causing a bit of raucous, he gets all grumpy, but because he can see that it brings eddie joy, he lets it slide and will huff and say "just don't let them into the trailer"