#He is surrounded with people yet so alone.

[kenntolog]

it’s 3 in the morning. satoru probably shouldn’t be out this late, but it feels right to be sitting on a random bench on the side of a street, gazing at the sky mindlessly with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. unlit.

though, the bench is ‘random’ only for the idle people walking by, the light screeching or clicking of their shoes being one of the things that disturb the peaceful ambiance surrounding him. another thing is the ringing of his phone, echoing in his mind along the empty street.

the beeping seems just as infinite as the time he spent sitting on this bench, by the entrance of the apartment complex where your flat, the rough wooden plates doing nothing for his hurting back. somehow, when you were sitting with him here, after long dates that never seemed to end because of much you both loved to unintentionally prolong them.

satoru moves the phone away from his face, face scrunching in disappointment before he once again sees the time and tries to accept the fact that you’re probably sleeping, deep into your fantasies in the dreamland, and he should probably bother you later.

he promised himself that if you won’t pick up the phone he will light the cigarette stick. you don’t like it when he smokes, but you wouldn’t know he did, right? and it’s either he spends the night with you or a pack of cigarettes.

sighing heavily, gojo pulls out the lighter, the end of the cigarette now burning red before dimming down. just as he’s about to inhale, the familiar ringtone hits his ears and when he is met with the picture of you on the screen of his phone, with your name shining as brightly as your smile, satoru throws away the stick, hurriedly answering your call.

“sato?”

a soft smile stretches on his lips when he recognises the sleepy rasp of your voice, indicating to him that he did indeed wake you up.

“sweetheart.”

“you okay, baby?”

frankly, satoru is far from okay.

the reason why he’s been sitting on the bench under your building for an hour now being that he is surprisingly unsure if he should go bother you this late because he hates being alone after missions. the part of him that doesn’t accept the words ‘personal space’ wants to barge in and mess with you a little before coddling you to sleep.

the adequate part of him knows you’re exhausted too. but it’s still hard to let go and deal with the troubles that have been building up for a while now alone. he just needs you to hold him and maybe kiss him a little. talk to him and call him by his name sweetly.

tell him that you love him.

make him feel human again.

satoru is so so tired.

“d’you think i could come over?”

“aren’t you already here?”

right. he huffs out a chuckle as he looks up only to see your face a few metres above, hanging over your balcony and waving at him with your free hand. he waves back, eyes never leaving you as you both stare at each other for a brief moment, silence overtaking the line.

you disappear inside rapidly, closing the balcony door behind yourself, “i’ll keep the door unlocked.”

“thank you, sweetheart.”

his steps are finally relaxed, shoulders weighing him down a little as he walks to the elevator, getting inside and pressing the number of your floor. suppressing a long yawn, satoru lets his the frown on face completely fade away, already prepared to be enveloped by you and your magical aura.

the door is unlocked, as you promised. he doesn’t waste time on anything other than taking his jacket off in the darkness of your hallway and hurriedly striding over to your room, the door of which is slightly open.

and there you are. his precious little baby, the sunshine of his own, the apple of his eye, his everything; laying on the bed and waiting for him to join you, your expectant yet soft gaze never leaving his face as he takes off the rest of his clothes, discarding them on the floor with no care.

it’s so nice to be in your arms, though. satoru wouldn’t change it for anything. there is no need to ask if he’s had a rough day, no need to talk about yours and say anything, because it’s almost half past four and you both would rather sleep, leaving all the tough talk for the morning.

you kiss his cheeks, he hugs you closer to himself, arms tightening around your waist as he moves his limbs around just to have more skin to skin contact.

the feeling of your lips on his, a kiss so light and feathery he would have barely sensed it if he was asleep, it brings him back, back to you. satoru responds with a gentle press of his own mouth to your chin, trailing soft nips to your neck and then your chest, stopping right where your heart is.

right where his heart is.

[aplaceinthedark]

LOOKING for the MEANING

chapter one: Old Friends, Same Disease

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm. 

Word Count: 2777

CW: supernatural themes, attempted B&E, mentions of dead bodies, body horror

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

Featured Creatures:

@ladyveronikawrites @lilhobgobbler @deathblacksmoke @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera

@rottingfern @roley-poley-foley

I learned pretty quickly that Shenandoah Spring never wanted to come when it was told.

I’d heard about “Fake Spring” once or twice from a distant cousin that lived on the other side of the Blue Ridges. The First Day of Spring had come and gone, yet I was certain that some mornings it was still the middle of winter. Mornings like those, I was glad I had a space heater in my bed.

The space heater being my partner, Nicholas Ruffilo.

How most nights he was able to sleep wearing only a shirt and shorts was beyond me. No matter how many blankets I would pile on, or how far I snuggled under his body, I could never get warm. Not that we would complain about the closeness, since some nights felt like they were colder and darker than others.

Tonight was one of those nights - but unfortunately, I was alone.

Night terrors weren’t new to me. Before I left Newport News, I had been warned of the many side effects of PTSD and Survivor’s Guilt. I had been plagued with them constantly until I moved to New Hope, and then they had all but vanished when Nick and I started sleeping together.

Tonight, it was just me and the cats, as Nick had gone to Richmond for the weekend to see his mom. I had stayed behind this time, saying that I was never really alone with our friends in the woods. But now, I was starting to regret my decision.

Usually my night terrors involved the Accident that had happened almost two years ago, but tonight had been different. Instead of Michael’s body, lying lifeless in front of me, it was Nick’s, almost exactly how it had looked last summer. It was an image I hadn’t wanted to ever revisit, but it seemed like tonight my subconscious wanted me to rehash it.

And that’s why I was currently standing on my front porch, alone in the dark.

I took a drag from the joint we had stashed away in our “Medical Emergencies Only: KEEP OUT FOLIO” stash, AKA when we needed to calm down. Despite it being three in the morning, the woods surrounding my house was lively, defying the chill that seemed to permeate everything. I glanced over at the trees, taking in how the moon made them cast long shadows that seemed to claw their way across my lawn.

I no longer feared what those shadows hid.

Which reminded me… I peered behind me, casting my eyes down at the offering plate. It no longer sat down on the porch next to the door, like it was a water bowl for an outside dog. I had put it up on its own little table so as to keep it from getting buried underneath the snow. It held some cookies right now, wrapped in tinfoil to keep the raccoons from getting to them. The fact that they were still there meant Noah or the other two haints hadn’t stopped by to take the offering. 

I no longer woke up when one of them would stop by, though a couple of times I would when I felt Nick leave the bed, but I would just quickly fall back asleep after. Some mornings I would wake up to see that Folio had dumped himself either on the living room couch or the bed in the spare bedroom, snoring away.

As I scrolled away on my phone, I felt the air around me go still. It made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. It was a common sign that one of the boys was near, so I looked up to greet whomever it was. 

Indeed, there was something in the woods, lurking just at the edge of my property line, where the grass turned into the Weeds. I couldn’t exactly see it, just a faint outline, like those games Nicholas likes to play, when the screen says to turn the brightness down until you can't see the image. The presence lingered there for a long time.

I rolled my eyes. “Hello, Noah,”  I called out, putting out the joint in the porch ashtray.

There was only silence in return, and the patch of darkness didn't move. I narrowed my eyes. “Whatever you're doing, Noah, you can do it either on my lawn or fuck off. I'm not in the mood for this tonight,” I snapped.

Nothing.

Unease curled in me. "Jolly? Nick?” I said, using Joakim’s nickname and Folio’s first name, respectively. I tried to keep the fear slowly creeping into me out of my voice, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it.

When I still didn't receive a response, I called out to the shadow with that weird mental connection Noah had with everyone. Noah?

WHAT?

The annoyance in his voice at my intrusion was not helping my panic. Are you anywhere near the house right now?

There was a small pause before he replied,

NO, I'M UP IN THE MOUNTAINS. FOLIO’S ON HIS WAY. WHY?

The second he said the word, No, I was immediately running back into the house. It didn't matter that Noah was still in my head, demanding that I tell him what was going on. I startled the small calico cat awake with the sound of the door slamming shut, causing her to angrily meow at me.

“Shh!” I quietly told Lydia, reaching over to pull the curtains shut. I had barely drawn one set when I heard the front steps outside creak as something put its weight down on them. I immediately dropped down into a crouching position, my back pressed against the door. Lydia was smarter, trodding off back to my bedroom.

Staying as still and quiet as possible, I could just barely hear what was going on on the other side of the door. It sounded like wet rasping, intermixed with some clicking noise. If that was the sound of nails hitting wood, there was no way that was Folio in his Grim form. 

The sound continued for several more minutes, pacing back and forth slowly. The sound would fade off, and I would think it was safe to get up until it paced the other way. I was getting lightheaded from holding my breath for long periods of time. 

That’s when I heard a new sound: metal being disturbed. Was… whatever it is... stealing the offering plate?

I was so focused on listening for the sound again that the knock on my door nearly had me falling over. I couldn't help the yelp that slipped out. I froze, scared that it would alert the monster outside, but then a familiar voice piped up. “Taylor, it's me. Open the door,” Noah said.

I slowly stood up, heading towards the peep hole to check, when I heard the same voice say inside my head, 

DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR! THAT'S NOT ME!

The doorknob rattled vigorously, as if the thing heard Noah. I felt a small surge of pride at having the wherewithal to deadbolt the door when I ran in, but it quickly evaporated when the door violently shook in its frame. I backed away from it until there was a loud bang, as if it threw its body against it, and an unearthly shriek pierced my eardrums. I bolted for the bathroom.

FOLIO'S ALMOST THERE.

I shut and locked the door, and then clambered into the tub before drawing the shower curtain. I then curled up into a ball to wait it out.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours until I heard the sound of heavy paws beating against the forest floor, like someone was beating out a fast tempo on a kickdrum. Then, sounds of snarling and shrieking filled the air, causing a small sob of what was almost relief to escape me. Then, quiet.

“Taylor?”

I froze at what sounded like Nick Folio’s voice, calling out loud enough that I could hear him. "It's safe now. I'm coming in, alright?"

I climbed out of the bathtub and made my way out into the hall. It just so happened that at the same time, Folio was closing the front door behind him. Dark blood dropped from his lips onto the eagle tattooed on his chest, but I knew that he was the real Folio. Only occupants could come into my house.

I nearly tripped over my shaking legs, but I ran over to him and threw my arms around him. He answered in kind, holding me in comfort.

“I got it, don’t worry. It won't hurt you,” he said, smoothing my rumpled hair as if trying to soothe a wild animal. His nose then pressed to the shaved skin above my ear and I heard him sniffing.

"I was smoking before this happened," I admitted sheepishly.

“Obviously,” he said. He sounded a little disappointed.

That's when I heard the sound of trees being disturbed. “Go clean up,” I said, unwinding myself from Folio.

“Can do.” He patted my backside as he passed me to walk to the bathroom.

I pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch. Only the signs of the struggle were apparent. Nothing was broken, and the only things left behind were nail marks and small tufts of silvery-white fur, which I knew had belonged to Folio. He hadn’t looked raked, so it must not have caught his skin. Whatever the thing had been, there was no sign of it.

In the periphery of my vision, a tall shadow emerged from deep within the woods. As it got closer, it shrunk down to a somewhat normal size of a human. The branch-like antlers seemed to emerge from the treeline before his tattooed body did. It almost seemed like his arrival was accompanied by the sound of a cold wind skittering dead leaves across the ground.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah Sebastian, the Watcher of the Woods, swore. “What the hell did you go and do now?”

NOAH

It was something Noah hadn't seen in a long time. 

Folio didn't leave it in one piece, but Noah could tell what it was just by looking at some of the bits. Almost white, hairless, a dried up husk. Its eyes were missing, but Noah knew it had already been like that. These things never had eyes, even back when he was under the old Watcher's control.

That was what worried him: the fact that this thing was here in the first place. He was wracking his brain over when he could have possibly left a corpse rot in the woods when he heard the front door of the house open. He dropped the pale thing to the ground and shifted into his more human form. Years later and he still felt the pain of his “bones snapping to fit inside a body half his actual size.

Taylor looked dead on their feet, and when he stepped onto the porch, they nearly collapsed against him. He steered them back in the house, forcing them to sit on the couch. He waited until they caught their breath to start interrogating.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded. He knew a little bit from the panic that made Taylor practically throw the situation through the mental pipeline he had with everyone, but he couldn't actually see what happened through their eyes.

As they told him what happened, Noah listened intently. Normally, they had a relationship that bordered on squabbling siblings, but when it came to the safety of the woods and those he considered his “inner circle”, he was as serious as a heart attack. 

As he began to ask a question, he heard the shower water turn off. “Do you still have that camera hooked up outside?”

“Yeah. I don't have the motion sensor notify me everytime, since you guys would wake me up at three in the morning,” Taylor said. They pulled out their phone.  

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Noah said. He saw their eyes roll. 

Folio then came out of the bathroom, wearing sweats. He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets flying. “Did you see what it was?” he asked. 

“Yeah, what little you left.”

“Hey! I didn't eat the whole thing! That shit was nasty!” Folio protested. 

Folio sometimes thought with his stomach rather than his head. It didn't help that Noah let him eat whatever he found sometimes, but that had to stop after he nearly ate Taylor the first time they went into the woods and got lost. It didn't prevent him from starving, though. Between some of the wild animals he'd catch, or whatever leftovers Nicholas would leave for him, he was eating pretty good. He was, after all, a twenty-five year- old stuck in a seventeen year-old body. 

“There's still cookies on the offering plate,” Taylor mumbled as they scrolled through camera footage. 

“Ooh, sweet!”

“Save some for Jolly!” Noah called over his shoulder as Folio bound for the front door. 

Taylor's shoulders slumped a little bit. “Come here,” he sighed, wrapping a long arm around them and pulling them into his wide torso. He was catching onto their moods quicker. He noticed that they liked stability and normality after stuff like this happened. 

And to think, he nearly killed them last year, too.

“Do you want one of us to stay with you until Nick gets home?” Noah asked. He felt them nod against his chest, leaving something wet behind. He sighed again, and kissed the top of their head. 

“I'll stay,” Folio said, mouth full. 

“The fuck did I just say?”

“I SAVED YOU AND JOLLY SOME!”

Noah heard a semi-hysterical giggle escape from Taylor. “Did you manage to find where the attack began?” he asked them. 

Taylor held up their phone, and Noah pressed play. He watched as Taylor ran into the house, and a few moments later the thing slowly crawled onto the porch. He moved the phone, but Taylor grabbed his wrist and held him fast. They wanted to see the monster too.

From the angle the camera was at, it looked like a hairless dog with too long hind legs. It loped around on all fours, back and forth on the porch several times. After a few minutes, Folio in his Grim form popped into frame, causing Taylor to jump, and he clamped his jaws onto the creature. 

“What is it?” Taylor asked. 

“I called them Pale Things. They're what happens to people who die in the woods,” Noah said. “I haven't seen them since the old Watcher would leave bodies left and right.”

“D-Do you know how tall they are when they stand up?” Taylor asked. 

Noah frowned at the odd question. “Why?” he asked. 

“Because something was standing at the edge of the woods, and this… Pale Thing seems too small to be that.”

Noah recalled when they had woken him. “Are you anywhere near the house?” They had mistaken this thing for him? That seemed impossible. 

So there might be something else out there. 

“Call Nick. I'm gonna get Jolly and we'll look around for anything,” Noah said. He then took the tin foil packets from Folio. “If anything that's not us or Nick comes within a hundred-foot radius of this property, fuck it up.” 

Folio grinned, making his sharp teeth more pronounced. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Noah stood up, patting Taylor on the head in a way that he knew would annoy them. “Go back to sleep, Lil’ Rabbit. I'll be back with the sunrise.” He then walked out of the house that had once been his. 

With every step he took towards the woods, he transformed into a more comfortable form. His body stretched and grew as vines and branches broke through his skin, wrapping around his arms and legs. Bark and moss formed over that as if mocking clothes, but would break at his joints with a loud cracking sound. As he disappeared past the treeline, melting in with the other trees, his skull broke free and melded together so he no longer move his jaw. But the antlers remained; in fact, they grew to impressive lengths.

To some, he was monstrous. 

To him, he was The Watcher of the Woods.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.

[gardenvarietygay]

Book Review* - On Guerilla Gardening by Richard Reynolds

I don’t read many books, I prefer audiobooks, and I don’t read many nonfiction books in any format. I’m a person who prefers to listen to a fictional story or at least something narrative. However, my husband very sweetly got me this book for Christmas since he knows I’ve been curious about the topic.

The subtitle to this book is “a handbook for gardening without boundaries” but I think that the title alone, which suggests an academic treatise on the broad strokes of a subject ie “On Medieval Chivalric Codes of Honor” or “On Governance” is more fitting. (I believe the actual title Reynolds is referencing is the manual On Guerilla Warfare by Mao Zedong, make of that what you will.) The first 117 pages of this book are pure tedium. If someone needed to be convinced that planting flowers by roadsides was worthwhile, I think the author might talk them into it and back out by the end. Reynolds spends his time detailing real guerilla movements, chastising people for making gorilla/guerrilla gardening jokes, and explaining that flowers are prettier than concrete. I found it muddled, condescending and boring but when I looked up reviews of this book people seemed to think it was refreshing or something.

From page 121 onward, we have the practical advice. Actually, we have some very impractical advice surrounded by way more introduction than necessary. Even though Reynolds has spent 117 pages bashing you over the head with war metaphors, he still feels the need to include yet more war imagery before every bit of advice. I wasn’t offended by the WMD jokes or the frequent references to guns, it was certainly and odd choice but whatever, I was just annoyed that he kept this stupid gimmick up for all 247 pages. Sometimes jokes aren’t bad because they’re offensive, they’re simply not funny.

Writing style aside, the advice is pretty middling. The plants recommended are just based on the author’s personal experience growing plants on medians in London. Gardening is like politics, extremely local. I’m not begrudging the man his foxgloves and daffodils but they’re just not a good choice for an internationally-distributed book. He actually recommends planting invasive plants (as in plants that he knows are invasive in most places including the UK) so that they take over. He includes the barest of caveats about making sure you keep them in check, however the gordian knot of finding that balance will not be untied for us. Since specific gardening advice becomes useless before it even crosses a time zone, it strikes me that rather than spending 12 pages on plant recommendations, they should’ve simply cut this section or suggested broad categories for the international release.

We are told that seed bombs are the preferred method to scatter seeds and that some people put them in eggshells, some people mould them into guns (just like in war!!), some people put industrial binding agents into them, and some people use a device that somehow uses laughing gas. There are no recipes or real instructions, just anecdotes. There is no explanation of how laughing gas aids in seed spreading, that one might be a joke. On subjects such as water, tools, choosing locations, etc. the advice is very basic but solid enough.

To be frank, once I got into the anecdotes without advice section I started skimming and never stopped. There’s every possibility that on page 240 of this book he really turns things around and makes this mess into a manifesto but I don’t think that would save it for me.

This book left me generally unimpressed. The concept was cute until it was aggravating, the writing was such a repetitive slog that I ended up skimming over paragraphs, and the advice seemed either so specific that it couldn’t be generalized or so basic that it needn’t be printed and sold. The cover is cute, that’s a good thing because it will be staying closed on my bookshelf for a long time. I believe the first edition of this book came out in the early 2000s and it shows. Maybe if I read this book in 2008 I’d have been charmed but in 2024 I’m just annoyed and confused.

*Inspired by @plantyhamchuk’s gardening book reviews.

[takes1]

omg if ur requests r still open… let me start off by saying i ate your tsukki series right up it scratched my needy loser itch SO WELL 😭😭 so much so im coming to you as a woman and begging you to do a needy oikawa scenario headcanon fic ANYTHING!!!! like i’d love a pathetic loser oikawa whos like perchance… crushing on one of the members of the girls team of seijoh…? 🫢

i’ll literally take anything u write atp that tsukki series was so fucking good that i literally put off studying for my finals to wait for ur updates instead 😭 i hope u know ur an excellent writer n wish u a very well day!!! 🤍🤍

god this request made my damn dayy!! ilysm. you're the best. i'm so glad you liked the tsukki series!! i've been waiting around for people start requesting! i love writing needy men, they're so dynamic

warnings. none. sfw, but hard-on mentioned so minors DNI info. hq fluff / yearning / needy!oikawa / loser!oikawa / volleyball team!reader / ace!reader / kind of popular!reader / oikawa getting hard talking to you / oikawa crushing / seijoh losing a match / iwa being a good friend / 1k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open and empty, so give me some ideas pls!

"Come on, dumbass- the bus is here," Iwaizumi reached out to grab Oikawa's wrist to keep him from lingering any longer at the entrance to the gym floor.

"Give me two seconds," Oikawa spat. He swatted away his teammate's attempt to haul him from his vantage point.

Iwaizumi sucked his teeth and muttered something under his breath.

For once, Oikawa didn't pay it any mind. He had to see you spike. He had to watch you win.

The ball spun up, perfect and slow for your setter- his clammy hands clenched at the soaked number on his jersey. You leaped up for it. He froze that moment in time, your perfect form, perfect body, perfect force, all sculpted for this sport you both loved and dedicated yourselves to. It was a frame he could worship until the end of time.

You gave a brutal and strong slam, clean and cutthroat, that connected to the linoleum on the other side of the court.

"YEAAAAHHHHH!!"

The cries of the audience, your team, a double whistle, and the pounding of his own heart for you filled his ears. He couldn't hear the reinforcements Iwaizumi had sent to drag him away so they could leave.

It didn't matter now.

None of them were in the mood to entertain his sensitivities, since they hadn't had as much luck as you against Karasuno.

That being said, he wasn't the only one who was happy the girl's team had managed to make it. It made their group jogging back to catch the bus just a bit less out-of-sorts.

Though his plan was to speak to you first thing that next morning about the match, it never worked that way.

You were the epitome of untouchable, surrounded by many friends and always smiling at something they said to you- he couldn't stomach the possibility of you not smiling at him the same way.

But you were magnetic; as soon as he gave up on the line he prepared for you, he would watch your perfect smile light up the room and have a brand-new, better one.

Yet, a mere, "Hey," Was all he could manage on his best days when your teams switched for practice, between his own admirers never leaving him alone, and your always-occupied attention.

He wasn't enough to catch your eye.

That alone stumped him, because he never had a problem with this before you.

There was a noisy little songbird outside the window, right next to him on the other side of the glass, practically egging him on.

His gaze flitted from the bird over to your desk for the final, innumerable time that class. The heavy head in his hand tilted, studying the way you played with your hair, in hopes to replicate it.

God, if you were his, you would never have to worry about brushing it. He'd be at your beck and call, anything you needed, he would search Heaven and Earth for it.

He sighed through his nose, hand over his mouth.

There was a pain in his eyes.

You copied the last few pieces from the textbook to your notes and brushed away some eraser marks from your desk. A steady, cute, focus on your brow.

The bell rang for lunch.

A fluttering of wings and the bird he was watching was far away now, soaring through the partly cloudy sky. He turned back to you and his heart sank.

There were already guys at your desk congratulating you on your win.

You grinned and mentioned your team's hard work, casual and cool, and took your lunch out as they walked away.

He couldn't let himself be forgotten. With a bit too much enthusiasm he stood and his chair scraped the floor, loud.

Only a few people turned to look and you were thankfully not one of them.

No time to think-- just going for it, he belted out at the side of your desk,

"I saw you win the match."

What the fuck did he just say?

You glanced up at him. He didn't mean to say that, exactly. He should've just said congrats. His face filled with struggle.

"Oh!" You wiped your mouth, "Yeah, I saw you guys walking out, I wanted to talk to you!"

He stumbled over his words, unable to think clearly enough to take a second to breathe, "Y-eah, the bus- was there--."

"The girls watched you guys, too. I'm sorry about what happened."

His face was starting to get warm, and just his luck, two of his most common groupies were stalking you with dark looks at the door. He was fumbling so bad. Of course you watched him lose.

You looked down for a moment, "That was a tough match."

In doing so, you remembered that monster serve that made you jump out of your seat.

You giggled, "Oh man, but that serve of yours!!"

His chest puffed up, filled with a newfound pride that mended every lackluster attempt he ever had at getting your attention.

"That was so fucking cool!"

Heat crept up his neck, goosebumps all over his arms so bad he had to cross them. He was blushing ear to ear.

A choked sound preceded his uneven voice, "You saw that?"

"Y-eaaah, I mean," He was making it worse already, but you were grinning up at him. How could he not keep trying to impress you?

"-They're better way better at practice, ya know."

"Oh, yeah?" An unwanted, deep voice egged on from his side.

He jumped away from Iwaizumi, whom he made plans to meet with for lunch, now standing with his arms crossed and an unimpressed brow line.

You both shared an amicable wave before he slapped a broad hand on the back of Oikawa's neck to direct him away and let you eat in peace.

It was arguably in his best interest, but Oikawa scrambled out of his grip as soon as he was in the hallway, pissed that he was abducted just as it was getting good.

"The fuck?" He snapped, rubbing the hot spot just under his hairline.

Iwaizumi, not about to tolerate his attitude like he did yesterday, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He started walking towards their usual spot with a smirk that his friend couldn't see.

He called over his shoulder, "You should really tuck that, dude."

The few students in the hallway watched his back, some in amusement, some in carnal curiosity, as he panicked for a moment, faced a corner -beet red and muttering-, and did just so.

my masterlist.

please send requests!

thanks again anon for the send, hope you like!! <3

[billwidoll]

Author's Notes: This is the simplest and cutest story I've ever done, Warnings: Loneliness and heartbreak

SEE MY LATEST STORY ON MY BLOG:

Our love is like an eclipse

︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻

It was summer on the Outer Banks and it was also the hottest day of the year. Everyone was at the beach or the pool, but unfortunately you were in the kitchen working like a slave. You worked at the rich people's restaurant, you hated working there, but you were humiliated a lot by your ex-boyfriend, Rafe Cameron.

He was Prince Kook, he commanded and dismantled anyone, and you left him because he was very possessive and jealous of you. And his favorite revenge was going to the restaurant he worked at And treat you like a maid, and you've had enough of that

"Y/N! Table 8 has a Whiskey without ice!" Your chef yells at you, and you roll your eyes but go hand over the glass of whiskey

Arriving close to table eight, you saw him, Rafe, 'of course it was him ordering the glass of whiskey' you thought

"Excuse me, sir, here's your Glass of Whiskey with ice" You say, forcing a smile and giving the glass to Rafe

"Oh...see, my girlfriend pouring me a glass of whiskey" Rafe says with a disgusting smile on his face

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore Rafe, I broke up with you, you idiot" you say, raising your voice a little

Rafe was still smiling 'he was a demon' When you were about to leave Rafe calls you again

"today there will be the eclipse princess, I reserved a perfect place to see it, if you want to go.."

Rafe was inviting you to see the eclipse, he knew you liked that science and planet stuff

"no Rafe, ask those whores to go in my place" you say without looking at him, you wanted to go but you didn't trust Rafe

"No my love, you are the only one, yes you will!" Rafe speaks making you take a deep breath

"Okay Rafe, I accept, but without any grace, do you hear me?" You speak rigidly and finally leave the place

You accepted, because you knew Rafe wouldn't leave you alone. So you accepted

︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻

It was late, and there were 10 minutes left before the eclipse appeared, and Rafe was already in the place he had reserved. And he was impatient that you hadn't arrived yet, and he thought you might have Gave up on him again.

But that changed when you showed up at the place Rafe asked you to show up at. And you were beautiful and light, but your face was confused

You came across Rafe surrounded by flowers and candles, and the place had no one, for a moment you thought about running away, but you had butterflies in your stomach

"hello...did I exaggerate?" Rafe asks with a shy look and that makes you tense.

"What Exaggerated Exactly?" You say, furrowing your eyebrows.

"Look, I want to be very sincere and direct, this is my redemption for you"

Rafe speaks a little stuttered and with a shaky voice

"Rafe....our relationship..." You try to speak, but Rafe interrupts you

"No, I made mistakes in the past, and when you broke up with me, I thought it would be normal, but I couldn't stop thinking about you, much less smelling you on my blanket" Rafe says and that makes the Your heart flutters and races

"I was just going to that restaurant, to see you and I despised you to hear your voice, but I knew that otherwise you would treat me formally"

Rafe takes your hand and softens it, waiting for you to react.

"you hurt me... you broke my heart... but I still love you, you idiot" you say, grabbing his neck and attacking him in a sweet, soft and addictive kiss.

And when the kiss happens, you feel the sun and moon forming, meaning the eclipse was happening. And that makes you two stop kissing for a while, and look up seeing the radiant and beautiful phenomenon

"I love you Y/N" Rafe says looking at you and smiling

"I love you too Rafe..." you say kissing him again

And end

︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻︻

[aeteut]

‘The only thing that could tear down the House of Black was itself.’

By likeafunerall, and reposted with permission.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Oh we are so BACK

When I tell you I saw this and died. HELLO?????

I keep hiding my face lahshjsdhjgfsaf HE HAS NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT AT ALL BEING THAT SEXILY INTENSE AAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway, I should probably try to make some attempt at describing the event since. If I don't I'll just be barking/crying/hiding my face for the next twelve hours.

Basically--and I'm not sure this is going to be across the board, but it held true for Napoleon and Sebastian at least--each suitor has a birthday event this year instead of a separate story. Comte's won't be released until tomorrow, but they have posted a preview.

From what I gather, he talks a little bit about himself and reveals parts of his past that haven't come to light in the game yet. There wasn't really enough to convey a coherent narrative beyond attending a party, but the line displayed here does get across the larger theme:

Comte: (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.)

He talks about how the aristocracy have thrown parties and extravagant celebrations for his birthday for most of his life. But none of it has ever really made him happy, largely because he knows that they are attempts to strengthen and broadcast power relations within high society. While I don't think he means it's entirely devoid of well wishes, I do think he sees it as a nexus of influence--and thus, by nature, impersonal. And honestly, I don't think he's wrong about that; the higher the echelon in social standing, the more it requires performance to maintain the position.

That being said, there is a fascinating flashback where he remembers a pureblood telling him about how falling in love with a human is an experience of another caliber entirely. My understanding is that Comte was still a fairly young vampire at the time, so he didn't really understand what the person was getting at. It seems like the other pureblood was trying to convey the difference in feeling, perhaps the fact that humans are more grounded in accordance with how they live--the reality and necessity of change.

After reading this--and the recent 5th bday story--I can absolutely see how change is something Comte has a complicated relationship with. He's known a certain way of life for so long, has constructed a sensibility of distant, rational maturity. After all the heartbreak of his youth, and two very acute traumatic events in his life, I can see why he'd be so afraid of broaching any kind of proximity with another person. Because on some level it's so much easier not to put your feelings on the line, to never have to fear devastating loss. And that's to say nothing of the worry of being unable to measure up on behalf of another person, of letting them down.

I'm so excited to see the rest of the contents, but something about the preview made me equal parts giddy and enamored (all I do is kick my feet with excitement LOL). I think what gets to me with Comte is that he truly does love companionship as a place to rest, a place where he can be honest about himself and his feelings without fear of ridicule (and the same goes for MC). In a world increasingly obsessed with surface level performances of power, status, and emotion, it's hard not to feel his exhaustion to the core.

Also, because these lines at the end more or less destroyed me in the best possible way:

MC: ...The you who had nowhere to belong no longer exists. In much the same way...Abel, I belong to you. Comte: ... Comte: I wish I could say to myself all those years ago, the me who kept indulging in such paltry things. Comte: Until you meet MC, you will never know love... The warmth of MC in my arms filled me with such joy I was near tears. (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.) The moment my lips found hers, the sweetness lit a fire deep in my body. Comte: These cute lips that melt against mine, the heat of your skin, the love that envelops me in your embrace--always leaves me so deeply in love with you.

[martyrbat]

[ID: a panel of Batman and Superman standing side by side in a clear, transparent box; surrounded by what's presumably space (?). They're shown from a slight distance and from behind. Batman asks a question to which Superman answers, gaining a reply back. The dialogue bubbles are in hieroglyphic symbols, leaving the actual contents unknown to the reader. Superman's internal monologue box reads, "Ever sense Kara – Supergirl – came into our lives, Bruce has immersed himself in learning Kryptonese." END ID]

[commander-jbennett]

At the moment you want...

to be seen

it is so, so loud. everyone around you is talking, crowded together. despite how loud it is, you cannot hear them, even when they talk to you. you try to talk to them, but you can't hear their responses. you take this as no response at all. it feels lonely, and dark, despite you all sitting in the sun together, and everyone's having a great time except you. you keep trying to get their attention, and when you do, it never feels like enough. you can't keep doing more. it's tiring. you see yourself floating in space, it's cold, and dark. they're still down on earth, laughing, so loud. you desire to be seen right now. you feel unappreciated, you feel left out.

tagged by: stole it :> tagging: steal it :>

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[squishycheekanon]

Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

You look lonely.

《 VirginRockstar!Eddie munson x GroupieFem!Reader

《 Summary: Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.

《 Warnings: unprotected sex, Eddie is 25. Virgin!Eddie, multiple orgasms, over stimulation. Loss of virginity. Brief mention of birth control, subish eddie. A little spanking.

《 Word count: a little over 8k

A/n: Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across. Please like, comment, and reblog to show support. Divider credit @cafekitsune

18+ minors dni

Year 1991

Eddie's life was at an all-time high. He had everything he only dreamt about back home in Hawkins, Indiana. He had money, fame, and adoring fans who loved him. Yet he still never had the opportunity to make a real connection with anyone. He still hasn't found the one.

Which was fine he didn't really need anyone right now. His life was too hectic for a partner. He was traveling all over the world meeting new people every night. He put all of his time and energy into music, and it paid off in the end.

He's surrounded by beautiful models and actresses, but never has he once been lucky enough to be intimate with any of them. He was a nervous and shy guy even after success. He never changed. He was still Eddie. Sweet, shy, and the same nerdy man who loved to play DnD and read Tolkien.

Eddie did have plenty of opportunities to lose his virginity in the past, but he was terrified. Most people would assume he was getting laid left and right. He's read the gossip magazines. He knows what people think of him. While he can talk up a big game, once it's time to get down to it, he just... doesn't.

He runs away. He gets too much in his own head. What if I'm terrible? What if everyone finds out I'm still a virgin at twenty-five? Those thoughts raced in his mind anytime he took a woman out on date, knowing they were expecting to hook up with this crazy rockstar.

His fear of rejection held him back, and now his fear of being a total disappointment was the new cause. He knows there's truly nothing wrong with still being a virgin. it's society who has a problem with it. Normally Eddie wouldn't give two fucks what people thought about him, but this was different. Most days, he actually doesn't care at all or even thinks about it. Until he's alone in bed with nothing but his overthinking brain.

All that would change once he saw you in the crowd. Not blinking. Then he saw you again when he snuck backstage to his dressing room. He managed to somehow sneak past a group of girls without much notice, hiding behind large security guards.

You were standing off to the side next to a crowd full of half-naked women. Eddie didn't mind all of you being there. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed the view after walking off stage. A crowd full of women willing to be his for the night. If only they knew.

Tonight was your first Corroded Coffin show. You've been waiting months to finally see them live. They have been on their world tour for almost a full year. Eddie Munson, their lead singer and guitarist, has had your eye since you first saw them being interviewed on Headbangers Ball.

The moment you saw those eyes and long hair, you were hooked. Once you found out they were coming to your hometown, you rushed to buy the tickets. You were already familiar with the security at the venue they were playing. So, getting backstage access wouldn't be a problem. One of the perks of making friends with the employees.

You didn't sleep with every band that came into town. Only the ones that peaked your interest. You'd never be caught dead in some glam metal band members' hotel room. You liked the thrasher types. The ones who looked like they hadn't slept in days. The bands who were loud and aggressive. Those were your types. The guys in that scene were generally more sweet and down to earth. Which is why you gravitated towards them. If you were good to them, they were good to you.

Corroded Coffin live at The Whiskey a go-go on October 31st, 1991.

You held the ticket in your hand, shaking with excitement. You were finally going to see them in person. You were actually going to meet Eddie Munson. Being a groupie wasn't something you ever intended on happening. It just did. You loved the music first and then got to love the people who created it second.

You weren't too fond being labeled a groupie. You genuinely enjoyed the company of these rockstars. It was never just about sex. You made a real connection and friendship with most of them. You always knew there would be no romantic feelings between yourself and whoever it was you got to know for the night. Or a few nights.

Only two days until Corroded Coffin would be in your city. You bought two tickets just in case your best friend wanted to tag along. She never really enjoyed this scene the same way you did. There was a thrill and rush you got that she never experienced or cared to. Still, you bought the extra ticket just to be on the safe side. Maybe she'd like to share Eddie with you. If she was down. You don't know why you were so sure he'd give you the time of day. But you were.

You were very sure of yourself that you could have him. Most bands had an after-party at their hotel when the show was over. They'd all gather on the bus with whatever groupie of their choosing and head off. That was your plan. Get backstage. Introduce yourself to Eddie and hope he takes you to the party....if they have one. Party or not, you were going to be his.

You've heard the rumors. You read the magazines and seen him out and about with some of the most famous women in Hollywood. The groupies that walked the sunset strip all had a little tale of how he was in bed. They would describe him as rough or very giving. Sometimes both. Some said he was gentle.

Others would say he was an asshole who kicked you out after he got what he wanted. You know, most of the time, you needed to take what they said with a grain of salt. From your past experiences with other bands. Their little stories were fabricated or over dramatized for the sake of attention.

Make no mistake that you didn't just want to sleep with him. You wanted to be his friend. Talk to him about his music. Have a connection with him. Listen to any crazy stories he might have. You wanted to have a life like Pamela Des Barres.

Where songs are written about you. Getting special treatment and tour the world with them. Have a rockstar fall for you even though that's a big no-no. You don't fall in love. You don't get romantic feelings. No matter how deep of a connection you get with one of them. It's hard not to. You idolize these men and women. But you knew it would only end in heartbreak for you.

The night of the concert you decided to go early and sweet talk the security so they'll let you backstage. You knew them pretty well by now. They know why you're there and have no problems with it. Your friend didn't tag along like you were hoping, but you're used to it. You'd figure you would chat it up with some of the other girls' backstage. They weren't your favorite to talk to. Too much jealousy and competition amongst them for your liking, but if gave you something to do in the meantime.

-

Eddie had been scrambling around all day long, getting ready for tonight's concert. He made sure his hair looked nice and his clothes were laid out on his hotel bed. He's been hitting the gym a lot more lately. So his clothing choice consisted of no shirt and just jeans half the time. He's got a lot more tattoos since the last tour he has done. A full chest piece and both arms down to his knuckles covered in ink. He looked a little different now compared to just three years ago.

He was nervous. Eddie was always nervous before a show. No matter if there was a crowd of five people or hundreds. He was scared. He puts too much pressure on himself. He compares himself to his idols too often. Something he knows he shouldn't do, but he can't help himself. He was going to the venue early and helping the roadies unpack and set up the equipment.

Eddie figured he'd meet up with the guys and do sound checks and then help his team get everything ready. They were playing at the Whiskey. A venue Eddie was very familiar with. He's spent most of his time in the crowd watching his favorite bands play up on that stage. Eddie never imagined there would come a point he'd be playing up there, too.

Back at the venue, you were talking it up with one girl you've grown pretty close to. You didn't know her personally, but she was at the same shows you always frequented. Her name was Lila, and she looked like she walked right out of a penthouse centerfold. Long bleached blonde hair, big breasts and legs for days. Most of the other girls hated her, but she was always very sweet. She didn't make up one night stand stories to get "popular." If she didn't hook up with a certain guy, then she'd tell you. She never lied. Which is why you've grown to respect her.

"I hope we get to meet Eddie after the show ." She bounced from one heeled foot to the next. A large smile plastered on her face.

"Me too." You chuckled, watching as she struggled to contain her excitement.

"Doesn't matter which one of us takes him home as long as it is not one of those Debbie downers over there." She leaned forward to whisper.

"Why not have us both?" You joked.

Her jaw dropped." Yes! He can have us both."

You shake your head and pull her to walk over out by the side stage. You always got the best view from there. No one shoves or pushes you out the way. Plus, you could be very close to the band. Which is exactly what you wanted. The sound tech guys were busy putting everything together as the roadies were bringing in the equipment.

That's when you noticed him. Hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His bangs are longer, and loose strands of hair fell beside his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just pants and a chain around his neck. The tattoos on his arms and chest on full display for you. Eddie was getting the amps on stage with the rest of the crew. You heard them make a joke about which girl in the back they'd pick out for him. But you didn't care about that. You couldn't take your eyes away. He was truly more beautiful in person than on TV.

Eddie glanced your way a few times when he noticed a couple of people off to the side watching. He felt a blush creep its way up to his cheeks when he saw you gawking at him. Eddie still wasn't the best around women if he didn't prep himself first. He was a good flirt, but the moment he noticed they were checking him out, he'd turn beet red. The little blonde standing next to you had her eyes on the road crew.

You saw him make eye contact with you a few times, and your mouth went dry. You've been with plenty of rockstars before, but none of them have ever given you butterflies the way Eddie did. His big brown eyes look straight into yours, and your breath hitches. You tried to elbow Lila and get her attention, but she was too busy checking out a roadie. She was like that.

It didn't matter if they were the ones playing onstage or working for the band. If she found them attractive, she went for it. You nudged and nudged desperately, trying to get her attention as Eddie's eyes never left yours. But all you heard was her giggle next to you as she eyed up and down the guitar tech. "Alright, Ed, time for sound check." You saw Jeff peek his head from around the corner.

You lost her now. Her focus was not on Eddie anymore but his roadie. You wouldn't be surprised if she even stayed to watch the show.

Only an hour until the show starts and you were getting antsy. Lila was gone. She left not too long after the stage was officially set up. You knew where she ventured off to. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. You just wish you weren't alone. There was something so...exciting about tonight. You've been to plenty of rock concerts, but this one was different. You didn't want to experience it alone.

Corroded Coffin were still considered newcomers. Who got very big very fast. There wasn't a magazine on a stand that didn't have Eddie's face on it. From tabloids to Spin magazine. He was on it. The thrill of getting to experience him in person was coursing through your veins.

There was this lump of excitement in your throat. You wanted to scream. Get it all out. You made up your mind that you were going back to his tour bus or hotel room. He was going to be yours for the night. It didn't matter how many women were lined up for his picking. It was going to be you.

Finally, the lights dim, and the crowd has already gathered to their designated spots. You were still off to the side. Gazing up at the smokey harsh purple haze lighting up the stage. There is a backdrop with huge black lettering reading Corroded Coffin hanging up high. Gareth is already at his drum set, setting up for the rest of the guys to make their grand entrance.

Each member emerges from behind the curtain with a roar from this pretty large crowd. Jeff and Grant waved to the sea of people. The crowd is alive, and you can feel it. That electricity is pumping in your veins. The place was packed. Maximum compacity is five hundred, but you know there is way more than that here tonight.

The mic in the middle of the front stage stays empty. Eddie still has yet to come out and introduce his band. The crowd is getting more and more wild. The other members play some instrumental songs to help hold everyone over until he arrives.

The band picks up speed, and the lights switch from a purple haze to red. The entire stage was glowing. The smoke on the stage gets thicker. The crowd forms a mosh pit right off to the side from you. Some of them sneak on stage to dive back into the crowd.

Your eyes have not left the stage. Not once. You kept glancing back from the mic stand to the curtain. You wouldn't lie. You were getting impatient. Extremely impatient. You wish you still had Lila with you so you could have someone to talk to as time passed. Knowing her, you probably won't be seeing her around until the next band is in town.

You blinked, and there he was. A guitar slung over his chest. His hair hanging loose around his shoulders. The shirt he was wearing now tore and cut shows off all of his tattoos. He doesn't say anything. He makes his way to the mic with a cocky smirk on his face. Watching the sea of arms waving out for him. The band never slows. Eddie starts belting out lyrics to their newest single. His voice growling in the mic. You'll never understand how these guys can do this almost every night for months on end.

The veins in his neck buldging out with every passing lyric. The crowd here tonight has never been like this before. There was something so special about witnessing a group with so much energy and passion that it's passed off to the crowd. The floor beneath your feet vibrating. You can't tell if it's from the music or the stampede next to you. Whatever it was, it had you mesmerized.

Your eyes still never left, Eddie. He stopped playing for a short moment to address the crowd. "How is everybody doing tonight?!" The contrast bewildered you. Between his speaking voice and singing voice definitely would give anyone whiplash.

He scanned the crowd, looking at how chaotic it had been since he arrived. Eddie looks off the side and sees you there. Same spot at earlier. You must look utterly hypnotized, and truth be told you were. You couldn't look away. He's got some kind of hold on you. He smirks and looks back to the rest of the audience, but every so often would make eye contact with you.

Song after song, you noticed guitar picks landing by your feet. You hadn't seen the first three times it was done. Too busy watching him thrash away on his guitar. You're surprised it's still able to play after the beating he's given it. He's playing so fast his hand looks like a blur. A pick slapping you in the chest snaps you back to reality. You bend to retrieve it and notice there are now five picks total all by your feet. They're a crimson red with E.M. scratched in the back.

Eddie had been throwing his picks at you the whole time. You hadn't noticed until he plucked one so hard at your chest that you felt it through your t-shirt. He moves over to your side of the stage and crouches down so he's almost eye level with you. He's so close you can touch him if you wanted. Eddie plays the solo of their final song of the night right in front of you. It was like he was playing it for you. Time stood still. Just the two of you and the music. You didn't even realize you stopped breathing until he got up and walked away. Giving you one last look over his should.

Eddie goes back to stand at his microphone. His confidence is through the roof. His stance is proud. "Thank you so fucking much for coming out to see us tonight. We are Corroded Coffin!" He growls that last part out, and the crowd erupt so loud you know your ears will be ringing tomorrow. The vibration on the floor intensified. You were surprised that it hasn't collapsed in yet.

One by one, the members exit the stage. Leaving Eddie to be the last. He looked back at you one last time and gave a little wave. Did he really just wave at you? No must have been to someone else. Definitely not you. You kept telling yourself.

There is no way. He was giving you a lot of attention tonight. Maybe he was? You kept arguing back and forth in your mind as you headed out.

Before you can even try to find the backstage area again, there is a security guard handing you a pass. That was awfully quick, but you don't dwell on it. All you wanted was to find Lila and Eddie.

You rush to the back and see her sitting on a case that holds one of their bigger amps. Her hair is disheveled, and her makeup all smeared. "Where did you go?"

She jumps, "Oh hey!! I got preoccupied."

"How was the show?"

You snort. "It was amazing. They were amazing. He was amazing."

"Babe, that's great. Are you going to the after-party at their penthouse?" Lila goes to stand and smooths down her dress. "The roadie.. I forgot his name told me about it."

"Oh, I'm definitely going. The security guard gave me a pass. I'm sure Eddie told him to give it to me. He had been throwing these at me all night." You go into your pocket to show her one of his picks he had been hitting you with.

Her eyes widened, and a smile spreads across her face. "He wants youuu."

She looked over at the other girls, who were now ease dropping on your conversation. She rolled her eyes and went back to give you a big hug. A bright smile stretched across her face.

"Let's get going. There is another little roadie I got my eye on." She hooks an arm around yours, guiding you to the exit doors.

You don't see Eddie anywhere. He's not out mingling with any of the backstage crew or fans. You figured he was getting cleaned up after the show. He did look very sweaty. His shirt clung to his skin, and his bangs stuck to his forehead. You were positive you would see him at the after party.

The after-party was at this luxury hotel in the penthouse suite. Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Eddie all had their own hotel rooms but used this one for mingling after their concert. There were tons of people here. Lila left you behind again the moment she walked through those double doors. She saw her roadie and planted herself in his lap and never got up.

You dabbled in conversation with their crew and had a pretty good talk with Jeff. He was the calm one of the band, and Grant was the funny one. When they got to bickering, it was like watching an old married couple. Grant would say some stupid joke, and Jeff would rub at his temple like he just came down with the worst migraine of his life.

While you were busy conversing with them, you kept scanning the room for Eddie. The sole reason you were even here to begin with. He wasn't here. At least not yet. You were wondering if maybe he found someone else to spend his night with. The thought of that riddled you with disappointment. Was he even the one who gave you the pass?

That didn't stop you from looking. The more you looked for him, the less engaged you were with the two men in front of you. The drink in your hand has become room temperature. More people have now rushed to join the party. The air was thick with smoke. The music was loud, and you started to feel suffocated. You excused yourself from the conversation to go to a less occupied area away from everyone.

As you're making your way past drunk person after drunk person, you see him. Eddie's standing off to the side with a glass in hand that contained a dark liquid. He looks freshly showered. His hair is still a little damp at the ends. You decided to muster up some courage and walk over to where he was tucked away all alone.

"You look lonely." You remark watching his face closely.

He swirls the brown liquid in the glass, causing the ice to clink. "Nah, jus' wanted a moment to cool down." He stared ahead watching the party.

"You know, just one pick would've been enough." You joked, hoping to lighten his mood a little. Eddie was coming off dismissive, but he's was just shy. He's never been good with small talk. As a matter of fact, he hated small talk it always felt forced more than anything.

He snorts, "Sorry bout that you weren't really noticing the first three I plucked your way, though."

"That's fair...."

You eye him and down, taking him all in. He looked good. Eddie notices you checking him out, too. His bites his inner cheek to keep calm. You're looking at him like you want to devour him whole.

"Wanna go somewhere more quiet?" You place a hand on his forearm and lean in a little close.

"It's pretty loud in here. I can't really hear you." You played innocent. You know what you were doing, and Eddie definitely knew what you were doing.

He gulps "Uhhh...sure". He straightens himself up, clearing his throat. He needs to keep his composure. But for how long? Would tonight be the night?

This alway happened he would invite a girl to his room or they would invite him somewhere. Things would get hot and heavy, and right when it was time to fuck he'd kick them out. Too embarrassed to be a disappointment for them. He'd rather be called an asshole than terrible at sex. Tonight? Tonight was going to be different.

He set his drink down by a near table and takes you by the hand leading you out a door you had no idea was there. Eddie walks you down an empty hallway until he's stopping at his room door. He takes his key out and looks back to see you behind him, staring at the fancy carpet. He was nervous but so were you. Just a little. Eddie had a bit of liquid courage in him tonight. He's usually a beer guy but decided to go for something harder to celebrate how great of a show tonight was.

There is a click, and soon he's pushing open the door. "You first." As he bows letting you enter.

You make your way in the room as he flicks on the lights behind you. It was large with a couch facing a king-sized bed. You take your jacket off, and he does the same. Eddies wearing a shirt that if it had anymore holes wouldn't even be considered wearable anymore. It does show off his arms and tattoos, so you're not complaining.

Throwing your jacket on the side of his couch, "You guys were really good tonight."

"Thanks the crowd was fucking insane." Eddie's making himself another drink at the mini bar. "Thought they were gonna go through the floor."

"Want one?" He offers calling over to you.

Shaking your head. "No, I had quit enough earlier, actually."

He nods respectfully at your decline.

Rounding the corner of his bar, he comes to plop down beside you, spilling a little of his drink on him. He's watching you closely, and you've never felt more nervous around anyone else before. You've done this plenty of times. Take a rockstar back to their room. Have some fun, and then stay a little while or leave. No one has ever made your heart skip a beat other than Eddie Munson. Who is now watching you intently. In this moment, you really wish Lila was here too.

You do it. You go right for it. This is why you're here. Why he took you to his room with no amount of hesitation. Leaning forward, you capture his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. You can taste brandy on his mouth as your tongue swips his bottom lip for access. Eddie still holding on to his drink, and the other is firmly planted beside him. You stop coming up for air. His chest is heaving, and his pupils are blown.

Eddies doesn't say anything. He was too caught up on from your kiss. He leans back in the cushions. Letting his legs spread wider apart. You take that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. Eddie stared up at you, and before you could say anything. His plump lips were already on yours. You grind down against him feeling his semi hard cock through his pants. He grunts in your mouth as your tongues fight for dominance.

You press down harder in his lap, desperately looking for any small amount of friction you could get. Wetness is already pooling between your legs. His hands move to grip on your ass hard as he helps you move against him.

You kept thinking to yourself that this wasn't real. You're actually not sitting in Eddie Munson's lap making out in his hotel room. He moans when he feels your hand dip down to rub his cock. Feeling how hard he was getting in his jeans.

Eddie breaks the kiss and stills your movements on him. "Wait, you don't wanna do this with me. He frowns.

"Why wouldn't I?" You're confused. Does he not like you? Does he not find you attractive and is only saying this to be nice so you'd leave? So many thoughts rush through your head in just a couple of seconds.

"I dunno. I just think you might be let down a little." His voice is small. He's not the big loud rockstar that was screaming just hours ago.

Eddie still won't dare look at you. Too afraid of rejection even to this day if he told you the truth.

Your brows furrow, and you laugh in disbelief, "Why would I be let...down? "

He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated groan. He moves to get up, and you go to sit back in your spot on the couch.

Pinching the bridge of his nose. His lips were in a thin line. He was annoyed and embarrassed. Mostly with himself.

".....fuck I guess now is the time." He muttered under his breath.

"Ive never done this before." Eddie waved from himself to you. Hoping you got what he was trying to say so he didn't have to blurt it all out.

"Huh, do what? You're still so confused, but you're trying to understand him.

Not only did his music mean so much to you, but he did as well. Corroded Coffin was the first band you truly clung on to. The first band that you actually bought a ticket to see instead of sneaking in and stealing a seat. Seeing him struggle to find his words was truly tough to watch. You have so much respect and admiration for him. The last thing you want is to see him upset over something.

"It's okay Eddie whatever it is, you can tell me. It won't make me think any less of you. You tried to reassure him.

He takes a deep breath, "Fucking hell I can't believe I'm about about tell you this...I'm a virgin."

You blinked back, thinking he was just messing around. He was known to pull little pranks on people. "Shut up, you're lying. I've heard the rumors."

"Yeah, that's what they are, rumors, all lies." He chews on his thumb nail out of nervousness. Would you laugh at him now? Is he still this amazing rockstar? "It won't make me think any less of you." Yours words ring in his head, but were they true?

"B-but you've gone out with like very famous women." It's not that you didn't believe him or that this was a bad thing. He was a famous rockstar who could have anyone he wanted.

"Nothing ever happened, sure. I tried to get to know them and have a serious relationship, but most of them just used me to shed whatever good girl image they had going." Eddie confessed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"So... You're telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I understand if you wanna leave." His tone was harsh, but he didn't mean for it to come off that way. He is getting defensive to protect himself from humiliation.

"I don't wanna go." You move to stand in front of him. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Eddie's voice is barely above a whisper. He finally looks at you, and his face softens when he sees no amount of judgment coming from you.

"Let's get on the bed." You push him so he flops back on the mattress. Standing between his legs hanging off the side, bare feet firmly planted on the floor. His shoes having long been discarded.

Slowly, you strip yourself of your top, pulling it above your head as he watched your tits bounce as you lift the shirt. You weren't wearing a bra, and you were thankful for that. One less article of clothing to getting in the way. Next was your jeans, and you carefully inched them down your legs along with your panties. Eddies eyes stayed glued to you as you became completely bare before him.

"You ever touched a girl before?" You crawl on top of him sitting just below his cock straining painfully against his zipper.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I've touched tits before."

"Not tits..here." You laugh, taking his hand and putting it between your legs. He lets out a shakey breath. Feeling the wetness between your legs as you feel his calloused fingers explore your entrance. Your slick coating his fingertips, getting them nice and sticky.

"Oh," he marveled, his eyes focusing on where his hand currently was.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Eddie." You purred.

You bite back a moan as he continued to explore at your opening. Your hand gripped at his wrist.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. Your pussy felt so inviting. Dripping wet like it was crying out for him. Begging and pleading to be fucked.

His finger glided up between your folds until they're grazing your aching clit. "Mmm, that feels so good." You praised and move both of your hands to place them on his chest.

Eddies watching and studying your face. His fingers rubbing sloppy slow circles on your throbbing clit. Your slick dripping down your inner thighs. You moan out his name and it takes everything in Eddie not to cum on the spot.

"Take your clothes off." You breathed heavy, feeling yourself already getting close.

He sat up quickly as you helped remove his shirt and pants. Leaving him in nothing but his blue checkered boxers. Tiny beads of sweat already forming on his face and tattooed chest. You take a moment to admire the dark inck, covering him almost up all the way up to his neck. You know It must have taken hours or even days to finish.

He lays there waiting. Watching and waiting for your next move or instructions. Whatever you were going to do, he was ready for it. Anything you wanted, he's all ears. Eddie was yours for the night as he wasn't going to chicken out this time. No running.

His cock forming a large tent in his underwear already. You can see a small wet patch from his pre cum. "Can I kiss you?"

He nods, moving forward to plant his lips to yours. You giggle, "Not on the mouth."

"Im talking about right there." You run your thumb over his leaking tip that's trapped in his boxers. A mischievous grin creeping up on your face.

Eddie looks a little dazed. Like he can't believe this actually happening to him right now. "Y-yeah."

You pull his boxers down letting his cock free. His tip was an angry shade of red, precum dripping down his cock. Your mouth salivating at his length. His cock was thick with prominent running down his shaft. It laid nicely against his belly button.

"You have such a pretty cock." You cooed taking his length in your hand. Eddie hisses from your touch. He's so sensitive that any amount of attention will send him just about over the edge.

His head falls back, and you can see his Adam's apple bounce when he swallows. He blows out a breath of air, trying to focus.

"Oh shit." He whispered to himself.

You take the opportunity to lick a strip up the side of his cock. He groans deep from his chest. He was going to cum he just knows it. With his cock still in your hand you slap the head of his cock on your tongue tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Wrapping your lips around the head, you swirl and suck on him gently. Eddie throws an arm over to cover up face. His other hand clawing at the white duvet.

"I-if you don't stop, I'm not gonna last much longer." He managed to stammer out. Your mouth too busy working on his sensitive tip to even care.

You remove his cock to speak, "That's kinda the point."

Wrapping your soft lips back around him. You suck much harder this time, and his hips involuntarily buck. You smile, feeling a boost of confidence you are getting this type of reaction out of him. Felt like getting a little cocky. you decided to take him further in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat.

His abdomen flexing as his release builds. Your throat swallowing around his length. You pull him almost all the way out before taking him in your mouth fully again. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft. His hips bucking up again making his cock go deeper in your throat. You gag slightly as spit drips down your chin.

Eddies still hiding his face from you. His cheeks flushed. "Fuck....I'm gonna cum."

You bob your faster. You take absolutely no sympathy on him. You want him to finish. You want to taste and feel his cum sliding down the back of your throat. You say something in audible as your mouth is currently stuffed full. Your jaw is hurting and going slack. But you don't care.

Your main goal for right now is not only to make him cum, but make him do it as many times as he can handle. With no warning, Eddie grabs your hair and keeps your head in place while thrusting up in your mouth, making it difficult for you to catch your breath. Your nose brushes against the soft curls of his with each thrust he gave. His hips raising off the bed to push his cock in the back of your throat.

"Mmphf, ooh shit." He grunts, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. The saltiness of his cum is all you can taste. Eddies relentlessly fucking your mouth the way he wants to fuck your pussy as he rides out his orgasm.

Every low groan emitted deep from his chest causes your pussy to flutter, sending a shiver down your spine.

He lets go of you, and you remove him from your throat with a loud pop. His cum and your saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

"Christ, I'm sorry." Eddie apologized, He really tried not to cum so suddenly. He really really did.

You coughed a little, finally able to breathe normally again. "It's okay."

"Yeah, but... what about you?" He asked as guilt was starting to set in. He didn't want you leaving with ache between your legs that wasn't satisfied.

"Who said we were done?" You smile deviously at him. His cock still semi hard on his belly. You lay beside him, running your fingernails against his length. He gasps and lets out a whimper.

The difference between this Eddie and the one on stage is something you'll never forget. His cock twitches and you can feel him getting hard under your touch.

"Scoot up on the bed for me." You instructed, wanting him to get nice and comfortable before continuing.

Eddie listened and moved higher up on the bed until his head hit the pillows.

You move to straddle him. His cock sitting just above your pussy. He's looking at you in awe. Like you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and he's completely at your mercy. And you are. And he is. As of right now, if you told him to run naked down the hallways, he'd do it. Eddie would do anything you told him to.

You rise and scoot forward some more so his cock is between your wet fold. You rock back and forth on him. He moan as you rubbed yourself on his cock. Your aching clit is finally getting some much needed attention. His chest is rising and falling rapidly.

Eddie moves his hands so they're holding on tight to your hips. You grind on him harder and faster. Your juices soaking his thick cock. That's it he was going to cum again. It was too much. What was left of his cum you didn't clean off was currently making a mess all over your pussy.

"F-fucking! hell." Eddie breathed, his fingers digging deep into your skin. He could feel another orgasm approaching him.

You felt yourself growing closer, too. The veins on his cock pulsating between your legs. Your pussy rubbing against him so deliciously. His tip nudging at your clit. Your legs tremble. Eddie bites down hard on his bottom lip almost drawing blood. His eyes glossed over. He was in pure extacy.

Eddie couldn't get enough. The feeling of his cock gliding between your slippery wet folds. It was driving him wild. If just by doing this felt incredible. Then he can't even comprehend what it must feel like to be buried in your pussy.

You had him drooling and unable to think straight. Nothing his own hand and a dirty magazine has ever been able to accomplished. Whatever his own imagination concocted was nothing compared to you. Nothing at all.

"You....this--fuck I can't even talk." Eddies whimpering and whining under you. He has a vice grip going from your ass and back to your hips. Moving them to hold on for dear life or smoothing over the softness of your skin.

"Oh my god!" he croaked. The bed rocking back and forth as you grinded on his cock. The pictures on the wall shake as you go faster. He watches as your breasts bounce, putting him in a trance.

Your climax quickly approaching, but you try to push it back. You wanted him to cum. You'll get yours later.

You feel him twitch again, and he curses under his breath. The grip he has on your hips starts to hurt. "I'm cuming...oh fuck I'm cuming." You haven't stopped moving as his cum shoots out onto his stomach and chest. Tears spring to his eyes and pour down his cheeks. Both of your minds are clouded. You stop grinding, letting him come down from his high.

He lays there limp arms out stretched after letting you go.

"I..youre so fucking amazing." Eddie finally spoke up.

You move back off him letting his cock rest up before you continued anymore. If only others could see him right now. Completely fucked out and you've only just begun. His skin is shiny with a sheen of sweat in the lighting of his hotel room. Eddie would never forget this moment or you for that matter. If he could take you on tour with him and never let you leave, he would.

"Hey, pretty boy, you okay?" You coaxed, running a hand down his cheek.

He doesn't speak, still trying to collect himself. "Mmhmm." Was all you managed to get out of him. His cock was surprisingly still hard.

"Are you ready to feel me now?" You leaned over to whisper in his ear. Licking a strip up his throat before biting down, leaving a tiny little bruise behind.

"Fuck yes." His husky voice as he replied. His eyes are closed, preparing himself for you.

Eddie was ready for this. More than ready. He made himself wait long enough out of fear and anxiety.

"Need your cock so bad." You playfully whine. Hearing that drove him crazy. He doesn't think he'll ever tire listening to someone beg for his cock from now on. Not after tonight.

You smile and move to lean up. Taking his length in your hand and aligning him up at your opening. His breath hitches as you take just his tip in you. Eddies mouth hangs open as he watches you slowly sink down on his length.

You take him inch by inch teasing him as you do. He's so thick it's going to take time adjusting to his size. You don't think you're ever going to feel as full as you will tonight. Somehow, you wonder if Eddie truly knows just how big he is. He has to have an idea? Right?

You continue sinking down on his cock while its spreading you open. It was pleasure and a little pain feeling him splitting you open like this. Your pussy dripping for him. "Ooh, Eddie."

He's biting hard on his closed fist. Fighting hard to contain whatever animalistic moan is threatening to escape. The tip of his cock is a shade of red that's almost purple. The veins in his neck protruding out.

"Please fuck me." He begged you.

Eddie Munson just begged you to fuck him. He's actually begging.

you most definitely are not forgetting tonight and will most certainly never tell anyone. Not even Lila. Sorry, she had a chance to be here and instead picked a roadie. The boost of confidence that just surged through your body after hearing him.

"I-i don't care what you do jus fuck me oh fff-god please!" Eddie whined as he rushed to feel your pussy hugging around his cock.

"Relax, I'm g'nna fuck you." You teased.

Finally you bury him deep inside you until his cock has fully disappeared. You both sigh in unison at the relief. You sit still, allowing yourself to get used to the intrusion. You roll your hips, taunting him a little.

"Sweetheart, dont tease me. I need you." He begs you some more.

"Mmf! god!, you're so big." You whimper. Eddie's cock stretched your sensitive walls the way no one else ever has.

You brace your hands on his abdomen. Eddie, out of nowhere, slaps your ass hard. He was growing extremely impatient all of a sudden. Grabbing your attention immediately. You nod, blowing out a breath of air. Rolling your hips some more before lifting them up and slamming yourself back down on him. His pubic hair tickling at your clit. Your both moaning together as his hips thrust up to meet yours. His tip hit that spongey spot on your walls.

"Fuck fuck... it hurts", Eddie cried with a strangled moan.

"Want me to stop?" You asked stopping yourself from gliding your pussy on his length.

"No! Don't stop!" He half shouts.

"I like it."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. His eyes look into yours, pleading for you to keep going. You lift yourself up and gingerly sink back down on his cock.

"Faster." Eddie demanded with a croak in his voice. You don't hesitate for a second. You lift up and start bouncing on his length at a frantic pace.

The springs in the mattress squeaked from how hard you rode him. Eddies face twisting up, and you know he's about to cum once more. He's blabbering nonsense beneath you. Mumbling to himself, "it hurts... so good," and "You're so tight."

He moves one of his hands to grip and spank your ass harshly. You know he is probably mimicking what he's seen in porn but you dont mind. You enjoyed it. Your pussy making a loud wet schlick noise as Eddie's cock stretched you open.

"Ahh! Eddie." You moan out for him.

"Keep fucking me.....dont stop. Dont f-fking stop." He grunts. His eyes half lidded as he watched you ride his cock. "Goddamn, you're wet!"

You feel your release building back up. You reach a hand between your legs as Eddie watched you. You rub tight circles on your sore bud.

He leans up on his elbows, looking on as you play with yourself. He was getting close again. Another orgasm threatening to spill out of him. Eddie is surprised he's about to give you another. he knows he's about to cum for the third time tonight.

"W-wanna cum again for you." Eddie lets out a small whimper. He sounded so needy.

"Oooh baby." You mewl. Your mouth creating an O shape. Your eyes are closed tight, and your thighs shake. You feel that coil in your belly tightening. "Spank me again." You begged him.

Eddie does as he's told and slaps your ass hard, causing it to ripple. The sound of skin slapping bouncing off the wallpapered room.

He feels your walls pulsing around his cock and he thrusts up repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. Your hand moving faster circles on your clit as you struggle to keep riding him.

Eddie keeps thrusting his cock up in your pussy over and over again. It doesn't take much longer before your orgasm is ripping through your body. You let out moan that almost resembles a scream. He's watching you come undone before him. A hint of pride hits him, knowing it was him who did that to you. You won't be surprised if hotel security is called to check and see if any is hurt. The noises coming from this room would cause anyone to be concerned.

Your nails digging in his chest while his cock helps you ride out your orgasm. Your body spasms above him. You lean forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You stay like that while Eddies sweaty skin and leftover cologne invading your nose. Sitting back up your mind feeling foggy and your face tingles. White dots appearing in front of you.

"Sweetheart I-I can't cum inside you." Eddie rasped his face tear stained. His eyes look at you sadly.

"I'm on the pill it's okay." You reassured.

He nods and you move your hips to easily ride on his cock. Your pussy clenching up around his length was sending him over the edge. You were so tight. So wet. His balls are completely saturated in your creamy juices.

You feel his length twitch against your walls. Just a few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling his load for the third time. Eddie cums so deep and hard inside of you he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

His toes curling and eyes go crossed. His mouth hanging wide open. He shoots a hand up to press against the headboard, bracing himself. You're relentless on top of him. Bouncing on his cock the bed is smacking the wall with so much force.

"Fuking christ." He grunts, his head digging back into the pillow. His back arching. You don't stop bouncing up and down on him like a bunny until you've milked him dry. His cock growing more in pain by the minute.

"C-cant cum again" Eddie pleaded. His cock hurt and it was now unbearable. Not like how it felt before when the pain was enjoyable. He can feel himself, getting close again.

Eddie just can't do it. He wants to, but he can't. He wants to fill you up with his cum again. He wants to make a mess of you the same way you did for him. Unfortunately his cock is too worn out and and sensitive to give you another.

You listened and halted.

"No more." He breathed.

"Want me to stop this time?"

Eddie nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. Regretfully, he had to stop. He's drained in more ways than one.

His face all the way to his neck is beet red. If his chest wasn't covered in tattoos, you'd guess he was that color all over.

He lets out a shuddered breath, running a hand in his hair. You take the opportunity to carefully remove him from inside you. Wincing a little at the sudden loss. His cum dripping out of your pussy and down your trembling legs a little getting on him as well. Eddie is quivering beneath you. There is a trail of his cum left behind on his abdomen and chest from his previous orgasm.

You laid back down next to where he was. His cock sore and tired from the abuse you just gave it. You and Eddie lay there not speaking for a while. The only sounds are low hums coming from the A/C. Your breathing evening out.

"Ya okay?" You asked softly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, I...I feel fan-fuckin-tastic, actually." Eddie laughed, recalling what just happened.

"Well, I should probably get ready to go now." You announce trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

"You're not gonna stay a little longer?" He moves to sit up.

"D-did you want me to stay?" You eyed him curiously.

"....well, yeah." His voice now very horse from grunting for so long. He shifts to look you in the eyes. Letting you know he's serious.

"You can sleep here if you want and leave in the morning. Check out isn't until 11:am."

"Oh okay..I'll stay." You smiled over to him.

"Cool! Hey, did you want to hear this new song I'm working on?" Eddie exclaimed, trying to stand on his wobbly legs.

He carefully walks over to his guitar, still completely naked, and his hair disheveled.

"Is that even a question?" You pick up his discarded grungy t-shirt throwing it over your head. You never realized how cold his room felt until now.

For the rest of the night, Eddie spent the majority of the time playing you little snippets of songs he's been writing. He'd ask you for honest feedback, which you gave.

"Ya know, I'm definitely gonna be writing a song about you." He stated, strumming lazily on his guitar.

Your eyes widened as you laughed at what you thought was a joke." You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." Eddie smiled before getting off the couch, tackling you back on the bed and attacking your neck. Having you both giggling like maniacs.

After this night, you became a legend in your own right. You swore you'd never tell a soul about this, but It didn't take long after the song was officially released for everyone to put two and together. Eddie kept his word about writing a song after you. He didn't mention you were his first, but that's okay. That can be your little secret together. The best kept secret.

Corroded Coffin would go off to win two grammys and headline stadium tours. You went to see them when they came into town, and Eddie gave you the VIP treatment. You promised yourself you wouldn't catch feelings. That was hard to do when he would serenade you in his hotel room.

Eddie was too charming and caring to avoid any of that. You knew better, and you curse yourself for even going against your own set of rules. You were sure Eddie didn't feel the same. He just had a special bond with you after you took his virginity. He definitely didn't possess any true feelings for you besides admiration and friendship. Or did he? Only time will tell.

[itaipava]

— f1 boys giving you the partner privilege.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS:

he hates to be interrupted while playing, but you are always an exception; when you arrive in the room he always looks quickly at you and takes a headset out of his ear, attentive to anything you are going to say. if you are sad or discouraged. he lets you sit on his lap and he listens intently to everything you have to say. but if you want, he’ll even turn off the computer/video game because he really cares about you - but he’s a little upset that you made him left the game when he was about to win, but he put this aside and focus on you; because what matters most is you, and always you.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO:

shows you off in every way possible - honestly, most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he’s always looks in love with you like ‘wow, you’re so perfect for me’. he also gets his eyes in his heart looking at you but still doesn’t understand how people guessed you were dating… but he honestly doesn’t complain, it just makes him show you even more to others because he wants to show everyone that he has the world in his hands.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ:

he would give you anything you want; are you looking for a certain food or drink? he’s already getting it for you without question. it’s movie night and you want to watch a movie that no one else wants to watch? one way or another he’s going to make sure you’re watching that movie. he just wants to see you happy - and also because he likes to pamper you. the second you arrive, his friends are rolling their eyes because they know how much he’s wrapped around your finger, just a fool in love.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC:

he gives you all his love and affection; it’s like he freely gives his heart to you, when it comes to you, he’d give you the entire galaxy if he could. he would let you do anything; playing with his hair, stealing his clothes, eating his last piece of pizza. he is also more affectionate physically like; he gives you long and warm hugs, soft and long kisses until you lose your breath, plays with your hair while he look through his phone, pulls you into his lap… he loves you with all his heart, and only you.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON:

he brings small gifts constantly. he can’t stop thinking about you and in everything he sees he sees you; whether it’s a coffee at that coffee shop at the end of the street that he knows you like, or that flower he saw in a tree on his way home. every little gift has meaning and a little bit of his heart. he just walks into the room with the sweetest smile to say ‘i have something for you, love’

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

you are the only person who sees his true side; the fun, spontaneous and loving side of him. you’re one of the few people who’s ever heard his spontaneous laugh or his bad jokes. or made him slow dance in the kitchen with you. you are the only person he allows himself to be, you are always the one for him.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN:

he wants your presence all the time; it’s not that he’s suffocating you, it’s just that he wants to be surrounded by you all the time. like he could literally spend 48 hours locked in a room with you and still feel like he needs more time - like no you can’t leave, we’re not done yet. no matter how much time you spend with him, it will never be enough for him and he will never get tired of your delightful presence; he truly cherishes you and wants nothing more than to give you all of the love he can for as long as possible. your existence alone to him is so mesmerizing, he really doesn’t understand how you’re his or what he did to deserve you.

[marvelouslizzie]

Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard. 

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order. 

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features. 

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right? 

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved. 

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious. 

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.” 

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that. 

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

*

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?” 

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck. 

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

 “That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth. 

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess. 

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too. 

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

[tomriddleslove]

I’m here.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo is spiralling and he needs a way out. He doesn’t expect to find it right in front of him. Alternatively: He doesn’t realise he is loved, by you.

A/N: Riddles 🤝 Internal Monologues. I’ve postponed a smut to write this because my heart belongs to angst. REQUESTS ARE OPEN 😻

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Child abuse, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Family environments, Depression. This is quite a heavy read.

Mattheo liked to think of himself as an independent person. It wasn't of his own volition, of course. He didn't exactly have the most supportive home environment. From the day he turned up to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, with scuff marks on his shoes, ragged clothing, hunger gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast and a bruise spattering the left side of his face, he learnt that the world would not show mercy on him. No, Mattheo had to do it on his own.

He did indeed feel grateful for his friends, who didn't need to utter a word in their support. It wasn't hums of sympathy or pitying looks. It was them brushing off his back when he fell, it was saving the work for him when he had rough evenings, it was pouring him a coffee when he sat down for breakfast without saying a word. Their friendship was not reflected in their words, no, for words were futile. It was in their actions. And Mattheo would be eternally grateful for them.

But even then, it was he who was surrounded by so many, who felt the most alone.

He couldn't ever speak of his issues, he didn't think he ever could. His friends loved him, but not in the way unconditional love came. It need not be romantic, no, Mattheo was not a fool. He didn't care for that when he could barely get himself together. But his deepest secret was not his family's past, nor was it the hidden bruises under his uniform.

Rather, it was that Mattheo simply, had the most terrible, incredibly human need, for love.

For the sort of love that would let you look at the most broken down, raw parts of a person, and still speak of them with reverence.

It tears at your skin. It digs its claws into your feeble skin, and it pulls, It tugs, and it screams. It bares its teeth, it etches its name into your soul. It feeds on you, it consumes you, it hurts you. It bleeds in front of you.

It bleeds, yet it does not cower under the weight of its own vulnerability, because it knows you love it. You lean down, and you cradle it as though it was the most delicate thing on earth. It shrieks in your arms, it continues clawing at you.

You hold it. You are not afraid.

It bleeds, and it makes you bleed with it.

It’s ok.

You'll clean it. You are not afraid.

It was, in its purest form, an ugly thing. Ugly, yet so undeniably beautiful. His heart could only ache, and clench at the thought of such an unconditional love. The idea that someone could see him for him, see Mattheo for Mattheo and not for his father, or for his friends, or for his loud, raucous persona that he put on, or his unhealthy habits.

But how could someone see Mattheo for himself, when he himself didn't know who he was?

He wondered what the rest of his life held for him, often. Sprawled out on his bed, a near-empty bottle of Odgens’ fire whiskey loosely clutched in his hands. His hands are cold; they never warmed.

He always had this feeling in his throat. A sort of suffocating weight, a pain that restricted him. It made it hard to swallow, and even harder to speak.

People would think he'd be out partying. Maybe getting with a girl. With his friends.

It's not that he didn't do that. He did. But it got to a point where the face of one girl blurred into another, he couldn't tell his mornings from evenings. Floating on a high that would sink into an undistinguishable low, one and the same.

He never slept. Whilst they didn't outwardly question it, his friends would jibe and jeer at him, assuming the bags under his eyes were due to his late-night rendezvous with another girl.

Would they look at him differently if they knew it came from nightmares?

He couldn't sleep, because every time he closes his eyes the depths of his mind torment him with images from his past.

His father’s hand comes down, cruel and unforgiving. The bruises mar his skin, but it became the norm. The purples and greens became akin to home more than anything else he had.

In his dreams, his legs do not reach as far as they do now. His calloused hands are smooth once more, and his eyes are wide and honest.

He is young once more, and it does not bring him ease.

He seeks out his mother, he yearns for comfort. She does not give it to him. He is met with the harsh sound of a slap resounding, and his cheek starts hurting. He's confused, and then-

Oh.

Right.

His eyes close, and they open again. He is now looking in the mirror, and he is back to the way he is now. He is standing there, and he cannot tell why he is. He looks the same, yet somehow unrecognisable. Mattheo knows himself well, but right now he feels as though there is a stranger in front of him. That can't be him, he thinks, but he has the same faded scar on his right eyebrow, and his jaw is clenched in the same way. His nose is slightly crooked from when he tried to mend his broken nose at the age of 8.

He meets his eyes in the mirror, and they stare back at him. There isn't that familiar gleam of exhaustion. There isn’t sadness, yet he isn't relieved to see it. He looks in the mirror, and he sees himself. He sees his father reflected in him.

He is watching, and a child approaches him. He is young, as Mattheo was. He barely manages to walk over without stumbling. He looks up at Mattheo - the one in the mirror. Mattheo looks down, but he does not see the kid next to him. He stares back at Mattheo in the mirror, and his reflection is looking down at the child. His stomach starts to hurt. His insides churn, and the reflection raises a hand. The child looks up at him, the same way Mattheo looked up at his mother. The hand comes down, and the harsh sound of a slap resounds throughout the room. The child cries. Mattheo's cheek hurts.

He wakes.

Gasping, sweat clinging to his forehead. His body is freezing, and his mind is reeling. His heart is pounding frantically, and he throws the blanket off him, rubbing a hand over his face as he groans.

He couldn't sleep, He was terrified of trying to do so. His eyes flicker over to the clock on his wall.

2:00 am.

Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees the child looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He sees his reflection raising its hand. In the silence, he hears the sound of the slap, he hears the cries of the child. It mingles with his own, he cannot not tell whose is whose.

He gets up, slipping his hoodie on. His movements are groggy because even if his mind couldn't sleep, his body still needed it.

Then again, one more night of resorting to drinking himself to sleep and he wouldn't be sure if he would wake again. His feet lead him to your room before his mind registers it. He doesn't know why he's standing outside your door, but you were his friend. Perhaps, a closer friend than the rest of them. He knew you'd be up, and he needed to not be alone right now.

Mattheo was a very independent person most of the time, but now was not one of those times.

That terrible, incredibly human need comes back again.

His hand rests on the doorknob, the cool metal still warmer than his own skin. He hesitates, but he pushes the door open.

Your door was always open for him.

As he expected, you were awake. Stretched out on your bed, propped up on a few cushions as you read a book. Your eyes flicker up as you look over at Mattheo, the confusion on your face very quickly fading as you see the state he's in.

You do not say anything, and he is grateful. You put your book to the side. You do not slide over to the side and offer Mattheo a spot next to you like you always do. You instead, continue looking over at him. Instead, you open your arms. You do not say anything, and you beckon him over.

He does not move immediately. He gazes at you for a second and once again, his feet move, and he gravitates towards you before his mind can even compute what he’s doing. The mattress squeaks slightly under your combined weight, as he comes over. He lowers down onto you, his head resting on your chest as he wraps his arms around your midsection. You cradle him as though he was the most delicate thing on earth. His cold skin meets yours, and its intransigence wavers.

He warms, and it is the most beautiful feeling.

He clings to you, as though trying to merge his existence with yours, afraid you'll slip away.

You hold him.

“I'm here,” You whisper.

It doesn't take long after that.

His head is hidden in your chest. Your fingers card through his brown curls.

You hold him.

He weeps.

You hold him.

You do not let go. He cries, and he cries till his throat is dry, and your shirt is soaked. He cries, and not once does your hold on him waver.

You are not disgusted by him. You do not look at him differently. It is amidst those tears that he comes to the realisation that he did not have to search very far. He is not just seeking comfort; he's holding onto the love and acceptance he's always craved. The raw, unfiltered emotion takes him by surprise, and he lets it wash over him. He did not cower under his own vulnerability any more, no, for his vulnerability is both liberating and overwhelming.

His sobs gradually subside, and your hold only loosens slightly when his body no longer shakes with the weight of his emotions. The feeling in his throat is gone.

He doesn't look up at you, but it's okay. You still look at him the same way. Your lips press a tender kiss against his messy hair lightly. His arms wrap around you tighter. You both remain silent. You don’t need to speak the words, because Mattheo knows.

Everything would be okay, if only for tonight.