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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours.

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you.

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him.

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?”

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.”

“What if I say please?”

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour.

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?”

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties.

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile.

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you.

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for.

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it.

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.”

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.”

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care.

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.”

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips.

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in.

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.”

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you.

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you.

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?”

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you.

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you.

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #this is so boring lmao my bad #i do believe he'd be such a lil nuisance if i was trying to clean with him in the room #this was written in under an hour and definitely not edited my bad #just wanted to stretch my legs with our favorite metalhead idk #look at me #finally writing and posting again #ooooooooo #i want a simple life with him please

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entomolog-t · 7 months

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Bite Me - Chapter 4

June asks some tough questions, meanwhile Aedes goes through quite the emotional rollercoaster.

Please note for this chapter all of the content warnings are super mild, so unless you really struggle with any of the topics its a very safe read.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

Word count: 3010

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, Dehumanization, Fearplay

“Well Aedes,” June tries to keep her voice even, but she can feel herself growing frustrated at his dodging of her questions, “What were you doing in my bed?”

He bristles- for a brief moment his entire body goes rigid. A look of sheer panic crosses his face, and she watches as he clenches and unclenches his fists, fidgeting anxiously. To her dismay, June notices he’s shaking. With his back still firmly pressed against the wall, he slides down to a seated position, burying his head in his hands. June considers asking a second time, but before she can, Aedes speaks,

"I... I was…" he racks his brain, desperate for something, anything to say. He stares at his blood smeared hands, refusing to look up at her. "...feeding."

What?

The sense of unease that she had initially felt when encountering him returned all at once.

The snarling.

The smear of blood on his lips- Her blood.

Her hand slowly and shakily reaches up towards her neck. He… he bit her? She feels the colour drain from her face… feeding… June feels nauseous. Had he-

“On me?” She says, her voice feeling hollow. He flinches at her words, ears drawing back. He says nothing. Remaining seated with his head in his hands. She sees his body hitch. His first words echo in June’s mind.

Please don't hurt me

Was this why he’d been so afraid?

“Like… b-blood… to drink?” June stammers. For a moment, he continues his silence, the only sound coming from his heavy breathing.

"...Yes." His voice, worn down by fear, comes forth in a raspy whisper. "I- I need blood." He avoids her gaze. June feels her mind buck against the absurdity of the word that slips into her mind, yet she says it aloud regardless,

“Like... a vampire?”

His head slowly raises to look at her, and for a moment he only stares, not understanding the word at first. As some kind of realization slowly sets in, a tiny bit of surprise flashes across his face as he processes the word. Slowly, he nods again.

"Yes. A vampire. That's... what I am." The word seems to hang heavy in the air between them, suspended in time. Without warning, the woman breaks the silence- erupting with… laughter??

Why was she laughing? What about this was funny to her?

He scowls.

June can't help but laugh at the sight of his disdain. His serious expression contrasting the absurdity of this whole situation.

This… this is crazy.

"W-What? What's so..." Aedes sputters, his sentence trailing off as June's laughing only increases. Between gasping breaths, June attempts to stifle her chuckles.

"Of all the things you could have told me…" June trails off, unable to contain her giggling, “A vampire??"

Aedes stares at her dumbfounded. His silence seems to sober her from her amusement, finally managing to contain her laughter.

"You- you're really serious?"

He meets her stare with his own, brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and what June could only assume was offense. She bit her lip. He certainly looked serious. Even though she’s been the one to say it, part of her had expected him to scoff- to deny it- to offer some sort of explanation…

"I'm sorry. I just- I didn't think vampires were so…um" she laughs again, however this time nervously, "small…"

Aedes feels as scowl as it carves its way across his face. It was humiliating. The very thing that was the cause for so much fear to him was just… funny to her. His means of survival… his size… Resentment seemed to brew under his skin. The thought of being so small yet being tied to a being so much like him yet so much more just to survive was a cruel twist of nature. He grit his teeth.

Seeming to sense his offense, the colossal woman fruitlessly tries to wipe the grin from her face. He sighed. This felt almost degrading… Humiliating as it was, teasing at his expense was a far better alternative than being seen as some sort of leeching pest. Swallowing his pride, he wills himself to join in the levity.

“So what?" He asks, trying to keep his voice light, "Are you laughing at my height or my…. profession?”

"Both or... Neither? I didn't expect to find a little man today, and I certainly didn't expect him to be a vampire!" She chuckles, shaking her head. Her words have a strange effect on him. Being called a little man feels patronizing. He knows he's small. So does she. There was no need to point it out. But… she'd called him a man- sure, a little man… but still, a man…

In the midst of his non response, she leans closer. He feels himself tense, but doesn't move.

"I mean… this is ... pretty fucking wild."

He eyes her carefully as she leans closer, steeling himself at her approach.

“What are you doing?” He asks, though he can guess.

She's curious he tells himself, almost for his own reassurance. Her gaze feels heavy. Despite her keeping her hands to herself, he feels the weight of her gaze as if he's firmly in her grasp. Her enormity was staggering. Despite what, in theory, was quite the distance between them, her closeness felt invasive- far too intimate at her size. As she leans in, he once again sees his own reflection in her eyes…

He looks… so very small.

Before he can voice his grievances at her closeness, she seems to catch herself; suddenly pulling back, face flushed a deep red. He blinks in disbelief. Had he… had he made her blush?

"I - " for a moment her eyes no longer take him in as a whole and seem to focus directly on his gaze, before quickly looking away, "Sorry."

He feels his breath rush out, tension melting away with a genuine chuckle. There was something at play here, something so familiar yet so foreign in this bizarre setting. The flush on her cheeks, her fleeting gaze…

Fuck it.

“Do you want to take another look?” The ease in his voice surprises him.

Her eyes are back on him in a flash; eager and excited. She nods, and her cheeks deepen even more red.

"Can I -uh.. can I touch you?"

Her question catches him off guard and he hesitates before answering. His instinct is to immediately deny her request, but… He was not expecting the human to ask in the first place. She clearly didn't have to ask- if she wanted to, she could have done so. She wanted his permission. Aedes finds himself wanting to reward this behavior with the goal of reinforcing it. It's simply training a desirable behavior. Nothing more. After a moment, he nods.

“Fine. You may touch me.”

He watches as her eyes widen slightly, but says nothing. As she reaches he finds himself taken aback by the paradoxical sight of her hands shaking…

Was she that excited?

Or was she that nervous?

He most certainly was. His heart pounded against his ribs at her approach, begging for him to run. With no small effort, he resisted the urge, rationalizing that a pest, not a man, would run from an incoming hand.

More gently than he would have thought it possible, she took his wrist between her thumb and forefinger, eyes fixated on his hands. He avoided looking at her face. Not only her touch, but her scrutiny made his skin crawl. Instead he found himself staring at her fingers. Her nails almost resembled his own clawed fingers, and he found their glossy pink colour surprisingly pretty, like dew on rose petals. He watched in awe at the sheer difference in size as she placed the pad of her index finger under his palm. She grazed her thumb over the top of his hand, prompting a shiver to run down his spine. He swallowed. His feeding had been cut short, and the remnants of his hunger left her smelling so dangerously good to him. A sweet and creamy scent… almost comforting.

To his great surprise, he finds his muscles relaxing.

Well, this was unexpected.

He clears his throat.

"Are you satisfied?"

She smiles, and to his horror, his heart flutters.

"Not quite yet…" she whispers, a playful lilt in the hushed rasp of her voice; teasing, though not like before. This was warmer. Her words seem to linger in the air as her finger tip traces a delicate path up the length of his arm, her touch gentle and deliberate. He… he hadn’t anticipated actually enjoying her touch, or the way it seemed to be awakening sensations he had long forgotten. Never in his adult life has he been touched this tenderly. Her soft caress ignites something within him, as if a current surged beneath the traces of her fingertips. It felt… almost… good.

He casts his gaze upwards, suppressing a flinch at the sheer closeness of her colossal form.

“And what exactly are you feeling for?” He asks, his smirk down right audible in his tone.

He watches in awe as her face flushes again. Was - was this actually happening? Despite his fear, those reactions fed into a growing curiosity toward this woman. His mind bucked against the thought. This… is dangerous isn't it? Stupid even…And yet…

He liked it. A lot.

She cleared her throat, a bashful smile crossing her lips.

"You're uh-" she gives an awkward chuckle, "pretty sturdy."

There's a momentary pause as his brain registers her words.

He laughs. The sound comes forth full and hearty, surprisingly genuine to his ears.

"What?" He scoffs, "Are you testing my structural integrity?"

Above him, yet oh so close, she stares down at him, face pink as can be. His breath hitches. The sight of teeth softly pressing into the plush flesh of her lip stirs something in his chest, and he feels heat rush to his ears.

His attention is pulled away from her face as she moves her hand. Her index finger lazily tracing up his arm and onto his chest. He swallows.

Could she feel his heart race?

Her finger came to rest at the center of his chest. At the pause in movement, he once again cast his gaze upwards to her and was met by a coy smile.

Without warning, she pushed.

He couldn't help but grunt at the unexpected increase in force. Her touch, moments ago soft and tender, held a newfound firmness as she pressed her finger tip into him. He stood, unmoving, unsure of what was happening. He knew the uncertainty should have been terrifying, and maybe in a way, it was, yet there was an undeniable thrill in not knowing. There was a playfulness to her touch, a teasing curiosity he couldn’t quite tell if it was innocent in nature. Could she tell what her touch was doing for him?

"What are you doing?"

Her face feigns an innocent expression.

"Oh? I'm just testing your-what was it?" she pauses, pretending to search for the words,"structural integrity." She nearly purrs the words. Her voice smooth and thick, like honey; sweet and silky - like her blood. If he closes his eyes he can nearly taste her on his-

She pushes him again.

He falls back, face hot. Before he can get up her finger finds that familiar spot in the center of his chest. There's no way she can't feel his heart now. Her touch and the beating of his heart is all he can feel. Her finger tip rises up from his chest, tracing his neck and coming to rest under his chin. At his side, he can feel his hands shake as heat fills his face, with even the tips of his ears burning. The air feels too thin, and she all at once feels far to close, and much too far. There's a strange tension between them as he speaks,

“And… what exactly are you doing now?” He struggles to keep his voice even, desperate to maintain control of his reaction if nothing else.

She leans in, her face consuming the entirety of his field of vision.

"I want to see your face."

For a brief moment, he swears his heart stops. The intensity of her gaze feels overwhelming- nerve racking. His mind feels as if it's racing and blank simultaneously; The only constant being the woman… the human woman.

"Well" He rasps, his voice far more forced than he would have anticipated, "do you like what you see?" He raises his head, craning his neck to give her a full view of himself. He feels a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

It's as if his words break an illusion- she tenses, and pulls back. His grin feels much less forced as he watches her reaction, relishing in the power his words seem to garner. Yet a persistent feeling of longing sours the small victory; A longing to be overwhelmed again by her closeness… by her touch.

She fidgets with her hand as he speaks, and he finds himself imagining her fidgeting with him instead. Wait- he blinks the thoughts away, repulsed by the idea… Enticed by the idea.

"Well, you're a vampire, right?" He notices, to his dismay, she won't meet his eyes, "but you're so, um, small." Thanks. "... I wanted a closer look at um- your teeth."

He found himself intrigued by the eb and flow of her emotions; she'd essentially just been fondling him, yet suddenly now she was acting coy? Because of a few choice words? He reveled in how her demeanor shifted with his words, how her eyes darted away from his, how her cheeks dawned near permanent blush. She, a creature of such immensity, hung captive to his charm, his wit- as if his will superseded the physical reality. Without the weight of her hand to stop him, he sits up.

“I’d be happy to show you my teeth,” getting to his feet he makes a show of brushing himself off, “But first,” he turns his gaze towards her, eyebrows raised and a whisper of a smirk on his lips, “you’ll have to come just a little bit closer.”

He watches with delight as her eyes widen at his words. He was making her nervous. He likes that. Seeing her cheeks flush, he realizes he likes that even more. And when she listens to his request? He finds himself liking that the most. She leans in, closing what little space was between them, but instead of looming over him she lowers herself. Where once she was resting on her elbows, now she lowered herself so her chin rested on her hands, nearly flat on the ground.

She looked up at him.

Oh.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

The way her eyes, bright green and innocent, looked up at him through her lashes suggested she definitely knew.

“Can… I see your teeth?” She’s so close he feels her warm breath on his legs as she asks again. He refrains from biting his lip. Instead, he imagines biting hers.

“Closer.” He repeats. There was nothing between them, save air and opportunity, and the scent of the blood still on her neck was quickly taking his breath away. She’d come closer and he’d drop to his knees and show his teeth far more intimately than she’d have anticpated; sinking them into the soft flesh of her lips-

The sound of her voice pulls him from his fantasy,

“Closer, huh?”

She draws nearer, closing what little gap still remained between them- so close her nose traces up his midsection to his chest. He steps back, and she rises, once again resting on her elbows, albeit this time, directly overtop of him.

“May I please see your teeth now?”

Looking up at her like this- he can’t deny the obvious intimidation he feels, and it's almost as if he doesn’t want to. Why would he ever deny himself of anything to do with her? The irony isn’t lost on him that what seemed like just moments ago he was so opposed to being seen as something to had- to being possessed, yet now he found himself wishing desperately to be hers. If she wanted to see his teeth, he’d gladly show her.

“I believe you may.” He says, his tone tauntingly flirtatious.

He smiles, lips parting to a wide grin. To his own shock, he closes his eyes. Was… was he beginning to trust her? Attraction was one thing. He was a man with needs, and she was a beautiful woman… a very large and imposing woman, but a woman nonetheless- but trust? That was a whole other beast. With his eyes closed, his skin bristles and tingles with each of her breaths washing over him. He feels his heart beating wildly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He trails his tongue over his teeth and his ears twitch at her gasp.

“You… you really are a vampire…” she whispers, her voice laden with disbelief, “They’re so… sharp...”

He feels… smug? Confident? He can’t quite place the emotion, but he sure as Hell knows the source.

“Oh?” he muses, opening his eyes, “Do I scare you?”

She answers with a mischievous grin- a grin that a small part of his brain is screaming to run from. His heart nearly jumps into his throat as she reaches for him, her fingers lacing around his torso. He suppresses a yelp as she lifts him, slowly and carefully, off the ground and towards her face.

“I think a more appropriate question would be,” she begins, her voice a sultry purr “Do I scare you?”

Yes.

Fear courses through his veins as his mind spits out fragments of thoughts.

Caught.

Helpless.

Vulnerable.

Intimate.

He focuses on that last one. The softness of her skin. The wild energy in her gaze. The sweet and heavy scent of her.

She was terrifying.

“That depends,” he lies, “Have you planned what you’re going to do to me now that you’ve caught me?”