#he has very few 'blissful ignorance' days anymore

[tangledinink]

has swanatello tried keeping a diary/journal? that way he could write down what happens at the visits and who visited, and his family could tell him what the date is so it could be accurate

Absolutely! He tries to record as much stuff as he possibly can so he can reference it later, the issue is that, on bad memory days, he often won't remember that the journal exists, and therefore can't add anything new to it or reference anything in it. If he does, he may not recognize the importance of it or understand why he's writing it in the first place. He may write down incorrect or conflicting information, as 'facts' may change for him depending on his mental state, which will later confuse him. He also has a tendency to lose things as a result of his memory issues.

He has a journal, but up until now it has been very patchworked and not half as helpful as he would like for it to be. His family tries to help him keep track of it and remind him to write things down when they visit, but they can't help if he won't allow them entry to the lake, if they can't find the journal, or if Donnie is too distressed or confused to participate in the exercise. The bracelet, however, has helped a lot with this, as it can verbally prompt him every day to locate the journal, reference the journal, to write in the journal, and to put the journal back in the correct place so he can still find it again later. This consistency is incredibly helpful, as the bracelet doesn't have to rely on Donnie having a 'good day' to begin with to offer assistance.

[junicult]

first, i am in absolute love with all ur posts and works—second, could you do headcannons of the bachelors when they get jealous?? could be smutty or sweet literally anything u give is amazing

!! how the bachelors act when they’re jealous

contains ; sfw! established relationships! farmer is noted to be outgoing / social. mostly fluff, but not intended to be fluff. majority of these take place in the city.

note ; i do love man that can get a little jealous. anon i love u ur gassing me up🤭

harvey.

- overthinker ™️

- he’s his own devil on his shoulder.

- no matter what, he’s secure in his relationship. he knows you love him, and he knows you’d never even think about cheating on him.

- he literally remembers every single compliment you give him. he’ll just randomly think of when you told him his mustache looked especially neat one day like months ago, and smile.

- but there’s always that little shadow of doubt that appears every now and then.

- it more commonly happens after you’ve had an argument of some sort.

- he’s not insecure in your very committed relationship by any means, i’m not saying that any little argument he’ll just believe you don’t love him anymore & want to be with someone else.

- i’m just saying there’s always that thought that crosses his mind, and manifests quicker then he can push it away.

- i feel like one of his worst habits is that he needs to be reassured quite often.

- doesn’t have to be major, just an “i love you” will suffice.

- so if you don’t clear the air right away, he accidentally gives himself time to 🥁🥁🥁overthink!

- “i need to finish working, we’ll talk about this later.”and you close the door before you have time to resolve it—it leaves those few hours to be a living hell for him.

- the jealousy doesn’t creep in unless he actually sees it, or hears about it.

- he’s too mature for that.

- his mind doesn’t automatically go to, “she’s cheating on me!” when you talk about another guy or whatever.

- it’s more or less if he hears about him a little too much, or sees the two of you alone together.

- but knowing him he’ll never bring it up.

- he’ll bottle it inside if he feels it’s not worth it.

- or unless he’s given an opportunity 😊

- you’re laughing, wrapping up your day as usual, just talking to each other, “oh, and he made the funniest joke the other day—“

- “he is funny. i didn’t realize you two were friends,” he laughs stiffly, keeping his eyes on the plate of food in front of him.

- “yeah, well, he needed advice on a couple plants he has in his shack, so i helped him out a bit.” you smile innocently, because it really was innocent.

- he pauses mid chew, shooting you a glance.

- “i see…you’ve been in his house?” he clears his throat a little.

- you just blink at him for a second, before you have to purse a smile. “only a couple times. haven’t you?”

- “…yeah. i guess so.”

- u could practically see the thoughts in his mind. he really does go to the worst case scenario.

- you giggle, gently kicking his shoe under the table and leaning in to hold his hand. “aw, don’t do that. you know you’re the only one for me.”

- now he’s able to look at you, even smile. because really that’s how easy it is to clear the air for him.

- well, he might need a kiss or two.

sam.

- ignorance is bliss for this man.

- the longer you two have been together, the more and more oblivious he gets to affection from others.

- especially when u live in a town as small as this one😭😭

- if you two went out of town or something, let’s say for one of his concerts—he literally wouldn’t think the girl that’s flirting so hard with him was even flirting with him. he’d just think she was a rly big fan LMFAO

- which has been the cause of a couple arguments between you two dare i say, but he means well.

- he’s the most secure out of all of them i think.

- when you’re in town, his mind just kinda goes to ‘everyone knows we’re in love so they wouldn’t even try.’

- and he knows you wouldn’t either. it’s not even something he has worried about before.

- he really doesn’t get jealous i think. it’s so unbelievably rare it’d get to the point where he’s actually upset about it.

- he’ll doesn’t think twice when he leaves you and sebastian alone together.

- i think it’s really sweet how much he believes in the two of you.

- i feel like the only reason he’d ever get jealous, is because he finds you’re spending more time with someone else besides him.

- not even a another guy, just a person😭

- like let’s say you’ve just been around vincent a lot, especially since he’s grown so much of a liking to you.

- so every time you come over to see sam, you end up spending time with his little brother instead.

- not even intentionally, it’s just cute to see how excited he gets to see you, and you like hearing the things he has to say,

- “and penny’s teaching us cursive! cool, right?” he grins, showing his handwriting that definitely isn’t intelligible but you still smile and congratulate him instead.

- so you just end up preoccupied with vincent more then you even realize.

- because of this, you entirely miss the way sam’s all uncharacteristically quiet beside you, just watching his little brother take up your time together.

- although he loves to see how close you are with his family, he’s still pouting.

- it isn’t until vincent has to leave for school, or something other, when he’s finally able to get your attention.

- “so you finally have time for me, i see.” he hums, pettiness dripping from his tongue, arms crossed.

- you furrow your brows, mimicking his stance. “i’m sorry?”

- sam isn’t the type to pick a fight out of nowhere. i feel like, for him to actually get angry or upset at something, it’s have to be serious.

- and this just wasn’t serious enough for him to encourage a bad mood, so he merely gives you a side-eyed glance before he unfolds his arms.

- “you know…you’ve just…been a little busy…’tis all…” he looks down at his shirt like he’s all embarrassed.

- “please, are you upset that i was spending time with your brother?”

- “…well not anymore…”

- he can get over it fast. promise you, within minutes he’s all over you, kissing and hugging you like nothing even happened.

shane.

- 😭😭

- similar to harvey in the sense that, he needs to be reassured a lot. (bold and italicized)

- tell him, kiss him, hug him, whatever it is. multiple times a day.

- he trusts you, but he doesn’t trust very many else.

- he knows the other bachelors let out a literal sigh on ur wedding day. he knows they all want u🤷‍♀️

- which, for the most part, makes him feel soooo cocky. he likes knowing the woman everyone wants fell in love with him of all people.

- during festivals, and gatherings at the saloon, he pretty much likes to stay attached at the hip.

- wraps his arm around you, resting at your waist while you’re both having two separate conversations (more like you’re talking and he’s just beside you).

- he gets a little clingy around the guys that he knows are into you.

- he’s gotta show them what they don’t have🤷‍♀️

- it’s kinda funny cus he’s not being subtle at all, and instead of outright bringing it up in front of other people, you’ll give him a slow glance, and he’s just smirking.

- that’s only because you’ve totally brought it up before in private.

- “you know we’re married, right?” you snort, going to tug on the pendant around his neck.

- “hey, that doesn’t stop some guys.”

- “well it stops me. i fell in love with you, not them.”

- he grins when he hears that. “s’true. but you’ve gotta see the way they look at you—“

- “and let them look. doesn’t mean they’ll get anything out of it.”

- he has to admit, he does kinda like knowing they can look but can’t touch—and he gets to do both.

- when he gets jealous, it’s all because someone is spending a little too much time talking to you.

- he’s a tad fragile.

- when he sees one of the guys talking with you, he’ll glance over a couple times, making sure the body language stays casual n stuff.

- last thing he’d want (for you) is to cause a scene.

- but if he were to look over, and you were still talking with the same guy for a while, that’s when he’d start to frown.

- what makes alex so interesting? what’s he got to talk about that’s better then shane?

- he is soooo fucking petty. to the guy that was hitting on you, and you.

- “miss your boyfriend?” after you’ve left and are you’re walking home.

- your expression turns to disgust. “what?”

- “oh i dunno…just, you and alex seemed to have a lot to talk about.”

- “don’t start.”

- “you’re being awfully dismissive—“

- those are the fights you have.

- immature😭😭

- if the argument gets heated, you’ll both probably limit each other to the silent treatment 💀💀

- no matter how stubborn he is, though, he hates not being able to joke with you more.

- eventually he’ll find it unbearable, and he’ll come up to you with a look only he gives you.

- eyes soft, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and resting his chin. “i’m sorry baby, i know i can get pretty jealous. i’ll work on it, okay?”

- he knows you’ve forgiven him when you turn to look him in the eyes, smiling at his affections. “good. you don’t have any reason to be, i promise.”

- and he’s suddenly the luckiest man in the world when you cup your hand around his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss he’ll never fail to melt into.

sebastian.

- he gets jealous. lol.

- it’s definitely his worst trait, because yes he trusts you, but he still might think you’re doing the wrong.

- you’re way more social then him, that’s a fact.

- you talk to people every day that he hasn’t even spoken with in months. he’s always just a little on edge.

- that cloud of doubt always tells him you can do better, he doesn’t deserve you. but you’re good at reassuring him, so it makes it easier.

- not to say his jealousy doesn’t get a little annoying.

- at the start of your relationship, it probably made u roll ur eyes a little lmfao

- ur casually talking to sam, literally just listening to whatever he’s rambling about, and sebastian’s nearby with a frown on his face.

- “what were you guys talking about? should i be worried?” he crosses his arms when you walk towards him.

- as if sam would even think to do that to his best friend.

- honestly, the best way to get him to realize it would be to lay it on thick.

- “stop it, your overthinking is exhausting the both of us. you need to get better with that, or this won’t work out.”

- he might be a little upset at your bluntness, but pretty soon he’ll come around. you have a point, and he realizes that.

- so afterwards he’ll tone it down.

- he still has moments where he gets a little tense if you’re giving guys gifts, or talking to them for a while during festivals and things—but he knows it’s just your personality.

- you’re not even flirting, and if they would, you knew to shut it down.

- once he got better at controlling it, you guys thrived. cus really, that’s the only thing you guys would argue about.

- i don’t think he likes pda.

- like, at all.

- but you guys have a little routine when you’re in public to reassure him.

- if he’s standing next to you, not mingling because his social battery is out, & he doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation you’re having,

- it’s with a guy, but he’s been with you long enough to not get upset over the little things,

- you’ll just reach out, and give his hand a little squeeze to reassure him you’re still with him (if that makes sense.)

- like, yes you’re focused on the conversation you’re having, but you’re still thinking about him in the back of your mind, so you want to silently show that everything’s fine.

- after years of dating, and when ur married, his thoughts of jealousy pretty much go away.

- despite you being the only person he spends time with on a daily basis, he trusts you at this point. he should’ve from the very beginning, and he definitely feels guilty about it every once in a while.

- but now he understands you don’t give him any reason to feel jealous.

- just talking to someone doesn’t mean you’re intending to cheat on ur partner.

- he’s a bit stubborn, although i think it’s sweet to think he’s given you a heartfelt apology about it.

- “i’m sorry for not trusting you. i know you love me, and i love you too.” with a little kiss on the cheek.

alex.

- he doesn’t really get jealous.

-…if anything, i feel like it’d be the other way around.

- his ego is skyrocketed😭😭 he thinks very highly of himself, and yes that’s a good thing, but omfg can it be so annoying.

- don’t get me wrong, he thinks very highly of you as well. sometimes he thinks you’re too good for him, honestly.

- but when you’re both out together, he kinda loves when he looks over to see some guy trying to talk you up.

- he’s not insecure in the slightest. he’d be devastated if you did cheat, but with his ego he just kinda thinks it’d be your loss LMFAO.

- what makes it even better is when you have a little scowl on your face, leaning away and dismissing the stranger to go find him.

- don’t get me wrong tho, he’ll always step in if he sees someone overstepping boundaries.

- anyways, when it comes to whenever you guys are together in town, he’s touchy.

- he does not fear pda😭😭

- he’ll be all up on you if you’d let him. he loves letting everyone know you’re in a relationship.

- so he’s not even given any opportunity to get jealous.

- i’m serious. if you guys go out somewhere together, for example a gridball game he invited you to, he’s not leaving your side in general.

- but while you’re still trying to find your seats, you end up sitting next to a guy that’s clearly checking you out.

- “is this seat taken?” you ask, purely out of politeness before sitting down, and it’s obvious that this stranger is excited you’re sitting next to him.

- and if alex sees the small smirk on his face, he’s instantly swinging his arm around you, speaking loud enough to turn a couple heads, “these are great seats babe! we can see everything!” and pressing a kiss to your temple.

- throughout the rest of the game, the stranger keeps finding chances to say a few things to you, all of which has alex involving himself in your conversations.

- trust me, he’s making a grand show of how you’re not single.

- leaving his arm around your shoulders the entire time, kissing you and your cheek.

- and after the team scores, he’s pulling you close after cheering, speaking loud enough for the guy to hear, “you’re their good luck charm, baby!”

- he’s full of one liners like that the entire night, each of which make you roll your eyes.

- “i know what you’re doing,” you tease, despite not doing / saying anything to stop him cus…honestly it’s so attractive how much he’ll fight for you.

- he just smirks, tossing a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth, “oh, you love it.”

- and that you do.

elliott.

- he’s also not the type to get jealous.

- or well, he doesn’t let it get to his head.

- his communication is too perfect.

- he’s not fragile enough to pout if you’re just talking to another guy. i think what he likes most about you is how welcoming you are.

- you’ll talk to anyone and everyone, and he definitely admires that about you.

- which is why i don’t think he’d think twice if he saw you talking with one of the other bachelors. you’re just striking conversation, getting to know everyone a little more.

- even then, you always tell him about it when you’re recapping your day.

- “oh, and then i dropped off one of the items shane requested today, got a nice chunk of change for that—“

- there’s nothing he needs to be jealous about. you’ve made it clear, and so has he.

- now being protective…that’s another story.

- he’s the perfect amount of protective.

- in general, he doesn’t look very intimidating. but he tries his best to make you feel secure if you’re out in public, and a guy keeps hitting on you.

- he knows you can handle yourself…i mean, ur the one who carries around a sword the majority of the time lmfao.

- but if it ever gets to the point where you’ve repeatedly shown disinterest, yet the guy won’t let up, he can step in.

- he’s so casual about it, swooping in by your side, sliding his arm around your waist.

- “you ready to go, honey? i called us a cab,” and he won’t even address the guy at all.

- “hey, we were in the middle of a conversation?”

- then he turns to him, gives him a bored once-over, before shrugging, “i don’t really think she wanted to talk to you, anyways.”

- whether the guy wants to press further is his own problem, because he’s hardly paying attention to what he’s trying to say.

- once you’re out of earshot and he’s finally let you go, he tugs you closer.

- “i’m glad you’re okay. sorry he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

- he’s so sweet you can’t help but smile, “don’t worry about it. thank you.” and he’s kissing your cheek, before actually hailing a cab.

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Diamond Eyes

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, HEAVY angst. The fluff disappears pretty quickly. Aha.

Warnings: OH boy here we go. Mentions of death/madsacres, heavy gore (dead bodies) and blood. MC gets injured semi seriously… It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: You thought you had all the answers, thought you were safe, but in reality you’re nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter.

Notes: This happens a few days after Dearheart. It’ll have a part two, but for a while we’ll be jumping back in time to fill in some gaps. Hope you all enjoy!

This is Part 38 of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throwing the door open to your very cluttered office, you stare into the depths of the dark room. It’s as you left it, paperwork tossed onto the desk without a care. And you don’t care, not really anymore when you lie a majority of the time on the reports you turn in. No one needs to know what you know.

Stepping in sluggishly, you glance at the clock and see the hand slowly ticking toward the 6. It’s not your fault you didn’t get to sleep till late, not with everything on your mind. You take your coat off, tossing on one of the chairs as you slip on your crip white coat in its place.

Sliding into the comfy desk chair (that you had delivered for yourself because the one they provided you was horrid) you glance down with a frown, mad at yourself for not finishing everything last night. Pushing it aside, you lift the coffee you got beforehand to your lips and sip with a low moan. Peppermint mocha will be your serenity for now.

Sitting peacefully at your desk is something that doesn’t happen very often. You stare down at the cup you hold, sighing as you drop it lightly onto the table. It’s been an eventful few weeks, all of your Nightmares having high emotions, breaking points that have gone one way or another.

Making that breakthrough with Jimin was as shocking as it was amazing, though you can’t help but to thank Taehyung for the push. The snake like Nightmare has been the hardest to understand, but now…

Your landline starts to ring suddenly, startling to you from the thoughts you got lost in. Peering down at the ID, it flashes as Williams. You promptly press decline and then ignore the fact that he ever called because he doesn’t really call unless it’s something dumb. He won’t ruin your attempt at bliss.

It lasts for a sad twenty minutes before the quiet leaves you. The sudden thumping down the hallway isn’t weird at first, no. It’s pretty often that ominous noises echo down the halls, but the sudden yells and screams signals to you that it’s an issue. You pinch your nose, waiting for all hell to break loose, because why wouldn’t it?

The screams that follow after a short pause are horrifying; they echo loudly down the hall, tearing into your ears. It’s enough to make you lean back, a grimace coming to your face in place of the annoyance. What in the world…

The door flies off the hinges then, the same Nightmare as before ripping it off. He’s drenched in blood, covered head to toe like he took a sadistic bath. You stare, mouth slightly ajar as he steps into the room. It’s immediately apparent that somethings not quite right, the usual glee that Yoongi holds when killing completely absent.

His breathing is loud and uneven, and as he looks up, you notice his eyes have gone completely silver, no pupil or iris on sight. The man looks absolutely crazed, a snarl ripping through his chest af he slams a wet hand on your desk. You can’t help but to flinch lightly as some of the blood splatters into your face.

The more you look, Yoongi just appears… Wrong. Like himself, but bits and pieces are different. He’s taller for one, towering over you as he bares his teeth, the points there sharp enough to tear anyone to shreds. His face is sallow, cheek sinking in, skin tight on his frame. It’s him, but it’s not.

“They’ve taken him down below! They FUCKING TOOK him! Ripped him out of my arms and I could even do anything, FUCK.” It’s a mix between a wail and scream, the sound piercing through your confusion. Standing slowly, you try to look as nonthreatening as possible, words slow and overly cautious.

“They took…? Jungkook?!” The realization dawns on you quickly, panic setting in. Taking a Nightmare down below is considered normal but a regular human…? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. Yoongi spits down at you, blood landing on the paperwork you were trying to avoid as he snarls again. It’s then the uneasiness sets in; Yoongi’s never been like this before.

“Who the fuck else would they take?! They took him from me and I-“ Watching his jaw clench tightly as his eyes close, it’s clear he’s holding back in every way he can from going on a massacre. The man takes a deep breath, shaky as he opens his eyes again. The pure lack of emotion in the shimmery depths borders on something sinister, and your anxiety raises.

“Why in the hell- Okay. Hold on Yoongi. Please, just let me figure out what happened-“ He doesn’t let you finish as he rounds the desk, tightly grabbing onto your wrist, elongated nails diging in tight. It hurts, but you don’t say anything as he tugs you out of your office. Glancing down, you wince at the way the blood he’s painted in sinks into your freshly washed coat.

You don’t get far before the lights switch off, red then flashing in their place. A Red Alert, meaning that somone had made it off this floor to notify that Yoongi got out. The Nightmare doesn’t hesitate though, kicking a body to the side as he continues on his way.

“We’re going to get him back right now Doctor. Right. Fucking. Now. I’ll paint the halls fucking red with more entrails and brains if I have to. Slighter every guard, we very doctor; anything that takes a breath.”You tug back on him a bit to try and get him to stop. And stop he does, right in his tracks. You nearly slam into him, not being able to catch yourself as you tumble to the ground.

The thickening blood in the ground washes over your knees and hands, and your stomach flips heavily. You’re not on the floor long enough to get sick though, the Nightmare pulls you up to your feet roughly, almost in a dragging motion as you slip around. One of your heels falls off, but you don’t mention it

“… Of course I’ll get him back, but I can’t just go down to the lower levels. I don’t even have the access… I’m sure I can talk with Dr. Kim about it, but…” It comes out almost confused; you’re not sure how to handle this anger. You’ve seen Yoongi livid, but never at you. Never like this. He stoops down low enough until your face to face, the death on his breath encircling.

You silently call for Hoseok as harsh puffs of air hit your face, worried now that this is completely out of your control. Yoongi’s gone off the deep end, and nothing you can say is going to change that. Not when he looks at you like he never had before, like he’s ready to end you.

“I don’t think you understand. I’ll hurt you, rip a fucking finger or two off. You’d be fine without them, still functioning and able to do your job. You don’t want that, right?” You stay silent, unsure of how to process his words at first ad you call for Hoseok again. Yoongi pulls back and raises his eyebrows high, waiting for your reply. You have nothing.

His hold tightens as he shifts, lifting your wrist up till it’s at eye level. You don’t have enough time to react as he continues to holds your wrist with the one hand, the other reaching up to grab a finger gently. He smiles down at you, teeth tie dyed in white and red as the lights continue to flash.

You flex your finger.

Yoongi snaps it like a twig.

The pain comes rushing in after, a cry of shock leaving you lips as you instinctively try to pull away. It sits at an odd angle, the look of it making you sick. Yoongi just holds onto you as you struggle, staring down with thinly veiled rage. He snaps it back into place just as quickly, the pain enough to cause dots in your vision.

“There we go.” You think you hear the smallest tinge of regret there, but he steels himself as he starts to tug you along again. You loose your other heel, feet slapping against the bloody floor as you attempt to keep up, mind in an uncertain haze. There’s no more keeping up, not now.

“Yoongi…” It comes out terribly raspy, nearing a sob as your panic rises yet again; he’s a lost cause. He snaps at that, grabbing the back of your neck and wrenching your head back. You cry out as his lips brush your ear, head twisted at an odd angle.

“Be good Doctor. Don’t make me do something I might regret.”

[aerynwrites]

Love Lost

Halsin x Ascended Astarion

A/N: got this idea in my head and it wouldn’t leave me alone. Lots of angst very little comfort but a fun read if I do say so myself. Hope y’all enjoy. Summary: Halsin was unable to sway Astarion from ascending and now…Now he’s left to try and reconcile his love for the man he knew and the vampire lord before him now. Word Count: 2k Warnings: ascended Astarion, heart break, falling out of love, grief, hurt no comfort, angst.

In the few weeks that passed since the destruction of the Absolute, Halsin has felt an all too familiar dread and hopelessness settle into him. 

It started when he was unable to sway Astarion from his Ascension, his vampire lover craving the power that was denied him for so long. 

While he disapproved of the decisions at first, he had slowly come to a begrudging acceptance in the days that followed. 

Astraion seemed lighter, happier, finally and truly free. Halsin had been so blinded by the man’s happiness at the beginning that he ignored the flares of unease that simmered in his belly. 

Once the tadpole’s threat was removed, the other companions slowly drifted away. Shadowheart to live with her parents, Karlach and Wyll returning to the Hells…Even Tav eventually left their sides, returning to Waterdeep with Gale. 

Which just left Astarion and Halsin, alone in the vast palace in Baldur’s Gate. 

Halsin felt stifled in the city, his magic dimmed so far from nature's embrace. He had tried to encourage Astarion to come out into nature with him, perhaps take time away from the city after their victory. But the man had brushed him off, claiming to have too much to do, too many things to get in order. 

That should have been one of many clues. That, along with the new pet names the vampire ascendant had bestowed upon him. 

At first, he’d liked the way Astarion had called him ‘little love’ - a name so unusual for a man his size that he couldn’t help but smile and lean into the palm rested against his cheek. 

But then, in the throes of pleasure, he had called Halsin his consort. The term had snapped him from his bliss so sharply it felt like electricity in his veins. He’d wanted to question the man above him, but Astarion - if he’d even noticed Halsin pause - paid no mind. 

He hated ‘pet’ the most. 

It made him feel like this…thing. An object, rather than something to be cherished. A beast meant to be ordered around. 

He hasn’t lain with Astarion since. Not that the other man has sought him out, once again too busy. 

Throwing elaborate parties, wooing potential patrons and political allies, all as Halsin stood lonesome on the outside of the masses. 

At first he’d somewhat relished in the large gatherings, enjoyed watching others enjoy themselves. 

It had only changed when a particularly beautiful gentleman had come up and asked if Astarion would let Halsin off his leash. As if he were a dog with an owner, instead of a man with his own desires. 

Now he doesn’t go to the parties anymore, either. 

His life has become one of solitude in the palace. Surrounded by stone and iron and the stench of the city. Not even having his lover’s attention at the rare dinners they share, the lord too distracted by paperwork in front of him. 

Truly…the only time Halsin has Astarion’s full attention is when the vampire requires something. Whether that be to feed or to fulfill other carnal desires. 

But even that is a void. That mask is a permanent feature on Astarion’s person even as they take pleasure in one another. 

His entire being aches. 

It aches with a grief he didn’t even know he could feel. A hurt and sadness so deep for someone that isn’t even gone. At least, not physically. 

It’s as he lays in bed this night that he finally identifies the source of his heavy heart. 

He is grieving. 

He’s grieving the loss of his lover, the real Astarion. The Astarion that was lost to that profane ritual all those weeks ago. 

He’s grieving love lost. 

The creaking of old hinges pulls him from his thoughts, his dark vision allowing him to see near perfectly in the pitch-black room. 

The door to his and Astarion’s chambers cracks open, dim candlelight from the hall spilling in and illuminating the room in a thin sliver of light as a familiar body slips in. 

Astarion hardly ever comes to their chambers, either sleeping in his office or only coming to fulfill his needs. 

Halsin feels a pang of shame as he almost welcomes the latter thought. At least then he can pretend that things are as they were. 

If only for a moment. 

The door closes and the soft sound of matches striking meets his ears as gentle light fills the room. 

Astarion lights just a few candles before waving the match to put it out, before he strides over to the bed. 

Halsin reaches for him, hands settling on his waist as the vampire gracefully straddles his hips. 

“I did not expect you to come to me tonight, my heart,” Halsin says, his words lacking their usual warmth. 

He tries, Silvanus does he try to muster the warmth and care he once felt for the man above him. But it’s a weak flickering flame in his heart, struggling to stay aflame amidst the black cloud clogging his chest. 

Astarion smiles, and Halsin is silently thankful for the lack of light, so he doesn’t have to see the lack of sincerity in the action. 

“Of course I’d come to you,” he purrs, hands already tugging at the ties of Halsin’s top.

Astarion's lips are on his before he can utter a reply, dominating him with this one simple action. 

Cool lips are firm against his own, his tongue surging forward in search of Halsin’s. 

This used to be a dance between them. Giving and taking in equal measure as they both sought pleasure in each other's bodies. Now…

Now it’s a battle for domination. There’s only ever one winner, and it’s never been Halsin. 

Astarion has never hurt him, to his credit, and Halsin believes Astarion still cares for him in his own twisted way. In the physical sense, he’s never left wanting after their nights together but…

His heart aches for more. 

It aches for the gentle laughter he used to pull out of Astarion. The soft look in his eyes or the warmth that filled his chest when they were together. 

Now it’s just..empty. 

Every action feels transactional, void of any love or warmth. Even now, as Astarion’s hands roam over his body, Halsin feels…wrong. 

Astarion breaks the kiss only to trail lips down the druid’s neck, teeth scraping teasingly before he moves lower, lips brushing his collar bone. 

“I couldn’t leave my little pet, alone and wanting…”

Halsin freezes beneath him, that tiny flame in his chest snuffing out with that one gods damned word. 

“Stop.” The word comes out much quieter than Halsin intended, and Astarion lets out a breath of laughter. 

“And why would I do that?” he asks, trailing back to place sharp fangs against Halsin’s neck. “I’ve barely even had a taste…”

“Astarion, stop!” 

His words come out loud and more forceful than he’s ever spoken to the man above him, and before the vampire can blink, Halsin is ripping himself from his grip, all but shoving the other man away as he sits up on the edge of the bed.

Halsin is angry, hurt and more than anything else…he’s sad. He can feel it aching so deeply in his chest it threatens to choke him. It’s a feeling that was planted soon after the Ascension and no matter how hard he tried to rip it out, it continued to grow. 

It festered like weeds in his heart, in his very veins, threatening to pull him under anytime he gazed at his lover. 

But now…they’ve finally taken over. He can no longer ignore the feelings burning within him, choking him, and finally breaking the heart he thought could withstand anything. 

It apparently can’t stand this. 

Astarion scoffs, a bitter empty sound that makes Halsin's heart crack even further. “What in the hells has gotten into you, pet?”

Halsin snaps, fists clenching at his side. “Do not call me such a thing,” he spits, his sadness manifesting in an anger so deep, it runs black. 

A cruel laugh leaves Astarion’s lips, one that reminds Halsin of the mask Astarion wore so often when they first met. 

“Oh, but that’s what you are,” the man purrs, coming up behind Halsin on the bed, hands sliding up his shoulders. “My, little pet that I do so adore-“ 

In a flash, Halsin is on his feet, hand gripping Astarion’s wrist in a grip so tight it would do far more damage to a mortal being. But the vampire doesn’t look phased in the slightest, mouth tilted downwards in displeasure and eyes sparking with something akin to bemused anger. 

“I am not an object to be controlled,” Halsin says firmly, dropping Astarion’s hand as despair replaces any anger he previously felt. “The Astarion I came to know would know that.” 

Astarion stands, lips tilting up once more in that smile Halsin has come to hate. He used to love when Astarion would smile, eyes sparkling with mischief or joy. He had worked so hard with his lover to help him lose that mask and now…The mask is a permanent fixture. His smile never reaches his eyes, and if it does, it’s always with a tinge of mocking cruelty. 

“The Astarion you knew was weak,” the vampire says, “now I’m so much more. I’m better than I ever was as Cazador’s spawn.” 

Astarion spits the last word with such venom it almost takes Halsin back. He’s so caught off guard that he doesn’t stop Astarion when he reaches up to touch him again, his fingers sliding beneath Halsin’s chin as red eyes appraise him. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t see that,” Astarion murmurs quietly, disappointment tinging his tone. 

Disappointment. As if Astarion was speaking to an ignorant child instead of his lover, his partner, the man who is supposed to be his equal. 

But Halsin knows…deep down he knows that Astarion will never see him that way again. To him, Halsin should be blessed to be his…consort as he called it. 

The Astarion he knew is gone. For good. And it’s a sliver of knowledge that stabs piercingly each time he realizes it. 

Halsin reaches up with the last tinge of tenderness he can offer his former love, his hand wrapping around Astarion’s gently as he pulls his face away from cool fingers. 

“I refuse to see the illusion you’ve created for yourself,” Halsin says softly, stepping away from the man in front of him. “I only see the very thing you tried to destroy.” 

At the brief mention of his old master, Astarion’s eyes flash with pure unadulterated hatred. He’s on Halsin in a flash, hand gripping his jaw as fingers dig harshly into his cheeks. His breath is warm as it brushes over Halsin’s lips, his words a hiss in the otherwise silent room. 

“Don’t you ever compare me to him.” 

With a harsh shove and twist of his arm, Halsin breaks Astarion’s hold over him, silently relishing in the ache left on his skin. 

At least he feels something other than that bone-deep sadness. 

“I’m leaving,” Halsin finally says, turning his eyes away from his lost partner. “I can’t bear to stay here any longer. My…My heart calls me elsewhere.”

Anywhere but here, shattering at his feet. 

Astarion smiles that mocking smile, straightening his shoulders and looks down at the druid, haughty arrogance replacing any other emotion. 

“You won’t really leave me,” he says presumptuously. “I own you. You’re mine - ‘just as nature intended’ - remember?” 

Halsin can’t help but flinch as his own words are thrown back in his face, but he stands his ground. 

“I am no one’s but my own,” he says, voice resigned. “Perhaps, at one time, I was yours and you were mine but…” He trails off. “The person my heart stirred for died in that ritual.” 

He turns towards the door then, silently bracing himself for another harsh hand on his skin, but he feels nothing. He only hears the sharp intake of breath as he opens the door. 

“Fine!” Astarion calls out, voice filled with venomous anger. “Leave. But don’t expect me to be waiting with open arms when you come crawling back to where you belong.” 

Halsin takes a stuttered breath, that familiar black grief shrouding his heart. 

“I won’t.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving his love and his heart in shattered pieces behind him. 

[merakiui]

Your thirst post about Professor Azul the other day is driving me insane in the best way. As his favourite student, you always get punished when you don't do well. Be it a small quiz, a discussion post, and the more the assignment is worth the worse the punishment. You've been bent over his knee and spanked or made to suck his cock and be facefucked until you couldn't even speak anymore because your throat was so sore. Recently you got a 2/5 on an online quiz. You know you'll be punished but it was only worth 1%, so it won't be that bad, right? That's what you think but Professor Azul found out you flunked the quiz because you were out partying, thanks to someone tagging you on social media. He's enraged. When you first enter his office, you tepidly drink on the glass of water he offers. He asks if you know what you did wrong and when you play dumb, not admitting to the parties, Professor Azul knows right then and there that you're not leaving until the next day. He fucks you bare, no condom, spilling his cum into you again and again. By the end, you're delirious, filled with his cum, and incoherent. You wouldn't be surprised to find out he fucked you while unconscious and you're not sure you remember what it feels like to not be filled with his seed. You think that's the end of it, being fucked full and forced to wear a plug that keeps all his cum in. The punishment must be smelling like him and enduring the stares, right? Wrong. The water Azul gave you before is a fertility potion. If you're going to be reckless and not take your studies seriously, it's best that he takes care of you permanently. Well, at least he thinks you'll agree when you're all knocked up with his child, won't you?

AAAAAAAA OTL this has me buzzing like a mosquito omg,,,, orz he's so fine. I cannot be coherent. </3

It's like half hate sex and then half need-to-fuck-you-so-hard-and-deep-that-you're-100%-knocked-up-by-the-end-of-this sex!!!! >_< he's more frustrated that you choose to go out and party, showing your pretty body off to others, while neglecting your grades (but most importantly: neglecting him). Professor Ashengrotto could feign blissful ignorance the first few times. You deserve to have fun, but then he realizes you're better off having fun with him instead of irresponsible college students. What if one of them gets you pregnant? >:( how are you going to afford a pregnancy if you're up to your neck in student debt? The obvious solution is to let him knock you up instead so that he can take care of you and pay all of your fees. He has the money for it and his house is very spacious and nice—much better than the dormitory you're living in.

In Professor Ashengrotto's mind, if you have time to be foolish you can spend that time being foolish with him. Since you seem so disinterested in your degree, preferring to party and drink and do all sorts of reckless things (it's nothing like that; you do these things in moderation, but he's delusional and obsessive and thinks that's all you are: a slutty party animal), he'll show you the reality that lies behind every shot glass. Obviously you've proven to him that you could care less about academics, so why should he care about your protests when you remind him to wear a condom or make sure he pulls out before he cums?

Professor Ashengrotto can be so immature when he's jealous and angry. Maybe he'll feel a little bad if you're struggling to stand hours later or you're bruised from a few rough rounds, but then he has to teach you a proper lesson. How else are you going to learn that university isn't a place for play? If you want that sort of life so badly, then you can just stay at his home like a good housewife and take care of all the children you'll have. :) who needs academic aspirations when you can be his cock-drunk breeding toy instead?

[trayzen-the-infinite]

Winter King thoughts

I’ve been thinking of Winter King for a while trying to organize my thoughts. I think Winter King is tragic in a new way. The Crown does more than turn you into a knock off of Urgence Evergreen, with every mind that wears the crown their consciousness is stored in its memory which stacks with every new person which inevitably created the insanity we know now. Ice King at some point managed to get rid of the Insanity and put it somewhere else. Simon was more than likely already insane when he did that and when he came to his senses and realized what he did, he did his best to ignore it and shrug it off. Simon is very good at rationalizing his actions to himself and he’d rather die than be Ice King, so he decided to play ignorant to his misdeeds. At the same time he’s still wearing the crown and his attitude is far more charming and charismatic than Simon himself which leads me to believe that while he’s not insane anymore he’s still not Simon either. Evergreen was a selfish man who much like Simon is good at convincing himself of his own actions and likely it’s a case that Winter King still has all the collective personalities stored in the crown minus the insanity. He’s still a cursed man, it’s just not as apparent. To cope with everything he’s done and refuses to confront he created a kingdom of lies around himself. He made a clone of Marcy to keep him company, he surrounded himself with his own creations who all loved him, he doesn’t try to hurt anyone and just lives in his picture perfect world to hide from a much more terrible reality.

I saw an animatic on YouTube using a fan song called “I’m Sane” and I highly recommend it because it fits winter king perfectly and I just want to share a few lines that work so well for him “I wonder night and day what it’d be like, if all we made could spring to life. Grant it a brain? That’d be crazy. Slay the obtained? How could you blame me? Impending doom, seek no freedom. Don’t interfere with the rhythm. Endure the pain! Preventing me from going insane” and “it’s not bad, I swear. If you close your eyes it’s not there”

Ignorance is bliss as they say and he’d rather be ignorant to everything, because the alternative is to go insane. Winter King is a good result for Simon while Ice King is his hell. It’s a hard choice and even if it’s because of willful ignorance Winter King is far happier than Ice King or Simon. If he wasn’t accidentally killed, I wonder if Winter King would have tried to fix thing eventually and repair everything he broke. He’s absolutely more in his right mind to consider stuff like that.

[bonesandthebees]

Hi again Bee.

Thank you for lending an ear to listen even if I just kinda showed up. I really appreciate it. I've actually been reading through some of your other stories and they're very good (I adore the fae works!).

When it comes to Wilbur, I'm just. Very disappointed and upset. Of course I support Shubble and am glad she spoke out, it's very important and I'm glad that it's encouraged others to come forward with their own stories of abuse at the hands of large creators. At the same time though part of me wishes she hadn't said anything, so I could have continued as I was, in blissful ignorance, even if I feel really guilty for thinking like that.

It just saddens me that someone I looked up to so much ended up being this horrible person. It makes me worried that I too am bad, that somehow he has imprinted his awfulness unto me. I used to be horrible too. I like to think I've grown as a person, I was only a kid, but have I? Or was being drawn to Wilbur a sign? Like attracting like?

Y'know, I used to say that my hair style goals were how Wilbur's hair is, and recently I got a haircut. When I took a shower earlier it ended up floofing up in a similar way to his. I don't know how to feel about that. Maybe I should style it differently, even though I like the floof. I don't want to be even a little reminiscent of an abuser.

I am reminiscent of him though, in ways I can't change. I used to feel so seen by him, we're both song writers, and hypochondriacs, and I wanted to be him so badly I would cry. I would cry because he was everything I desperately craved to be as an insecure transmasc, an attractive guy with a beautiful voice and an amazing life. And now he's horrible, and probably always has been, and all of my memories of him are tainted.

I hate that I can't listen to Lovejoy anymore. It feels unfair to the other band members. It isn't their fault Wilbur is awful, and yet I'm taking away a source of their income. I know I'm taking away from Wilbur too, but he's only one person out of the group. Maybe that's just me giving an excuse so that I won't have to stop enjoying their music. It doesn't matter, I can't stomach listening to them anymore anyways.

I keep getting songs from YCGMA stuck in my head. It's like now that I can't listen to it anymore my brain has decided to fuck with me by making me listen to it anyways. I can't even justify listening to that album, that's just Wilbur's music. I was going to cover a song from that album for fun. Now I can't.

Is it bad I still find comfort in Wilbur as a character? C!Tommy is my favorite, but C!Wilbur is almost always a huge part of any C!Tommy story and I love C!Wilbur stories too. I know C! ≠ CC! but I just. It's complicated.

Idek why I'm this upset. I haven't been an avid watcher of anyone in the DSMP in at least over a year. If anything this whole thing has brought me back into the fandom more than I have been in ages. I feel bad about that, but also this situation has introduced me to people like Aimsey, whose content I'm seeing more of and I find myself enjoying.

I've also found more great DSMP fics lately in my quest to binge read them before the mass deletions start. Is it bad to find good things in a bad situation?

I'm sorry for the lack of put togetherness and the length of this ask. I promise I'm usually more coherent and to the point.

-Tech (just call me Tech like a name, "tech anon" feels weird heh)

hey tech, sorry for a bit of a late reply I've been busy the past few days

(sorry about the 'tech anon' thing, it's just a habit since that's how I refer to most of my anons. I'm going to still tag your ask as tech anon though just for my tagging system if that's okay)

I'm so glad you like the fae stories!! I'm still so proud of both of those looking back on them

anyway, yeah, I get that. I get the guilty wish that none of this had ever come out so you could just continue to go on in blissful ignorance. when someone learns something very upsetting, it's only natural to feel like you wish you never learned that. you don't need to feel guilty for that. you're not a bad person for your emotional reactions to things. your actions are what matters.

also, you are in no way a bad person because you were drawn to wilbur's content. the persona wilbur put on for the internet was not representative of who he actually was. you were drawn to the facade. an illusion of the person wilbur could've been, if he actually practiced the things he preached. you said you used to be a bad person, but you've changed. the fact that you are worried at all that you might still be bad shows a level of self-awareness and concern that wilbur apparently did not have. because wilbur was aware he was a bad person and treated the people around him terribly, but he didn't care to try and be better. as long as you're trying to be better, you're already leagues ahead of him.

also, regarding the hair, the floofy fringe is an incredibly common haircut. that is not exclusive to wilbur soot. you do not look like him if your hair does the floof similarly to his, it just makes you look like thousands of other dudes with fluffy fringe.

the day after shelby first streamed I had an MSR song stuck in my head and I hated it so much. it really sucks. you just have to try and drown it out with other music

it's not hypocritical at all to still find comfort in c!wilbur. I know it's complicated, and there's so much discussion I could get into as to why it's so complicated, but we can all separate the guy and the character in our heads. there's no reason to feel guilty about that. and there's also nothing bad about finding good in this situation. I think it's really sweet that you've found so many great fics in this time and I'm so glad you've been getting comfort from them. you're appreciating the authors hard work and that's a good thing! you don't need to feel bad about that

I hope you're doing okay tech

[danieyells]

OMG JUST SAW YOUR POST ABOUT PULLING EDWARD’S SSR CARD. UR SOOO LUCKY 😿. Anyways, since you love him so much here’s a little food for thought especially with NSFW for Ed. I have this feeling where he’d be into very lazy sex, especially knowing how lethargic he is usually in the game. But for some reason I simply can’t get it out of my head , this idea of Ed and Mc 69. Like it’s a little difficult ofc, and there’s some faults to the logic but that can be ignored for the fantasy of it. Mc somehow persuaded Ed into trying it, Mc on top doing most of the work while Ed Lazily tries to please. However, I think MC would be too far gone to even realize that they’re “suffocating” or more-so squeezing his head between their thighs. They’re that hungry and sex drunk to notice. That’s where I think the biting comes in, bc ik damn well you can’t have a vampire without having some blood spilt in sex. Just a little something i thought should be shared to an Edward Hart lover 😋

THANK YOU SO MUCH i love him lol this time it only took a single ten pull. . .if only all of my gacha luck were so good lol ON THE OTHER HAND I NOW HAVE ANOTHER SSR TO LEVEL UP IN THE FUTURE. I PULLED JIN LIKE LAST WEEK TOO. I'M STILL WORKING ON TAIGA. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH RESOURCES--this is unrelated to the topic at hand.

I love everyone but admittedly some characters are easier to think about than others lolol Ed. . .kind of writes himself haha.

I CAN ABSOLUTELY SEE THAT I think he could be vigorous after. . .a good meal, y'know? He also says on the home screen that his physical condition is worse in the summer and better in the autumn and winter, so if it's a nice cold day--or a really cloudy or foggy one--he'd probably have plenty of energy to warm PC up. . . .

But he definitely prefers lazier sex. He likes to lie back and be attended to or maybe have his face sat on. . .the good thing about 69ing(or any sort of oral play from Ed) is that Ed doesn't need to breathe at all. By all means dear, squeeze his head between your thighs. He didn't need air anyway. Their natural instincts as a human will prompt them to pull away and breathe when it's time, he will just be swallowing the warm, sweet fluids coming out of them with no need to stop. Since he drinks tears surely other bodily fluids will feed him as well. They can be as absorbed in the sex as they want--he is, at worst, out of practice but muscle memory will kick in once his mouth is busy.

Muscle memory will also sink his teeth into their thighs a few orgasms in, when they're so blissed out from the orgasms they wouldn't even notice it. Just a little tilt of his head to press his hungry mouth into the softest part of their flesh, their thighs tense even tighter around his head in some small acknowledgement of the pain of his teeth breaking through(or maybe in protest of that he isn't pleasuring them anymore) and he just has a little. Just a little. They might feel a touch dizzy at worst. But they might feel dizzy from all the orgasms anyway.

And once he's got some blood in him they may feel even dizzier because he's so, so much more enthused after a good meal. He doesn't even mind if they stop because they can't focus on blowing him the way he's playing with them. He'll have plenty of energy to take care of that later--

hehe thank you for sharing your thoughts with me anon 'u'

[lansplaining]

golden core anon again! I haven't gotten the 7s translation yet, but in the ExR translation JC "retracted the whip, but it was already too late" and (a few paragraphs later) the hit actually landed on WN, leaving a scorch mark. I don't which is more accurate, but I've always had the impression that it wasn't really obvious for WN that JC was trying to stop the fight! I'm also 90% sure that WN wasn't lurking nearby to watch the whole exchange, so he's probably working with a lot of incomplete information here (in a lot of ways lol). as for why he immediately decided to deal emotional damage, instead of restraining JC or just punching him in the face (which would've probably made more sense to everyone and also might've made JC's day somewhat better in the end)… my personal interpretation is that WN was already pretty mad at the whole golden core thing? he initially respected WWX's desire to sacrifice the golden core for his brother, went along with his plan so that JC wouldn't suspect anything, watched WWX suffer during the surgery, then watched him destroy himself in the Burial Mounds without a core… and then realized that the guy who prompted so much self-sacrifice is… maybe kind of a dick actually? who has been treating WWX with nothing but anger and resentment whenever WN was present to see it? and now he's actually attacking him? "yeah no, fuck you, no blissful ignorance for you anymore, you should know exactly how much he has done for you and maybe then you'll leave him alone". (don't get me wrong, I agree that WN wasn't exactly fair to JC during the reveal, especially if you know that JC had sacrificed his core for WWX first, but I kinda get where he's coming from emotionally)

The Seven Seas has what I quoted, and yes, Wen Ning does intercept the blow that was going to hit Wangji. I don't speak Chinese and definitely can't get into the business of comparing translations, I'm very specifically talking about the experience of reading this translation and taking it as a story/narrative experience on its own.

I'm not saying that Wen Ning doesn't have personal reasons for revealing the golden core (though imo his emotional state as described both before and after is... weird, but that's part for the course with the unreliability of the narrator re: Wen Ning specifically), and I'm not saying the scene makes no sense. I'm literally just saying it's interesting that as a writer, MXTX chose to make the golden core reveal not actually the climax of a deadly conflict, or the only possible thing that could have stopped Jiang Cheng in his tracks, or even in response to Jiang Cheng actually doing something truly egregious-- it's yet another misunderstanding and disproportionate response to a situation someone bursts into without understanding.

(There's also the irony that right after this, Wen Ning thanks/implicitly forgives Lan Wangji because he spoke up for Wen Ning and Wen Qing before they were executed... but Jiang Cheng also spoke up for them-- to say nothing of facilitating the entire Burial Mounds grace period by arranging the fake fight-- Wen Ning just wasn't there, and it (also) didn't work.)

[residentweasels]

Radiohead Songs With Resident Evil Characters

Featuring very few characters this time cus I took the time to apply correctly and describe why I put what..

Equally so, the descs of the songs do not match the actual meanings, I applied meanings that I believe would fit the characters themselves ! Every character got two, and some got a bonus :^)

Chris Redfield -

Vegetable (points towards having done so much for what feels like nothing, repetition in the refusal to stop and to spit at anyone who tries to stop, overall a tired song of someone who is on the cusp of giving up),

(Nice Dream) (The minute hope and joy in one good dream could put a pause on everything else in reality, that one sheer, minimal good thing would be a deal-breaker against what is just another day all the same against what has been a stalemate on earth for as long as he's been around to try and solve it. That if at night, he could sleep and have a good dream it would be what he needed only then.),

BONUS: MAN OF WAR (pretty self explanatory, descriptive of being designed to kill despite the eventual fact of death sooner or later only meaning he'll be food for the worms)

Leon Kennedy -

How To Disappear Completely (after everything done, everything experienced is a hum and a denial that "I'm not here" creating an implication of dissociation towards events, something I apply as a hc but yk. not to mention the idea of moments like that already passing, as if the pause in action could reverberate the worst of it all in a single second),

Street Spirit (expectations of perfection, protection and a steelish way of life that can't keep itself together, broken thoughts become lyrics in this with the slow rising ticking and picking of the song to act as the time being always just out. Mentions of death like a glaring concept as if the mere idea of death being so close isn't a shock much anymore)

Ethan Winters -

Paranoid Android (Applicable lyrics against things he's faced, feelings he has, repetitive notions towards different lyrics, ending off with "God loves his children" bringing back to the catholic part which is a friends hc!)

Fake Plastic Trees (dissatisfaction in a life deemed unreal, sad tones and consistent mentions to being worn out but still going, wishing to just escape)

Albert Wesker -

All I Need (a continuous sentence of indecision, whether things are right or wrong. Putting oneself down and then up again, consistently denying yet desiring someone to love "you are all I need, you're all I need" before it shifts into the rest of the song being "it's all wrong" "it's all right")

Videotape (Depictions and descriptions of hesitation, repetitive audio creates that feeling of being unable to properly finish the beat, the thought and therfore the words against someone who they won't ever see again)

BONUS: Ill Wind (a short quiet echoed song of reverberating the belief that showing emotion could make an ill wind, a cold blow of words that "must not be spoken")

William Birkin -

My Iron Lung (love driven away, consistent tone of something eery, a cynical happiness towards something that really isn't happy, but under the facade of sarcasm/humor in the midst of suffering)

No Surprises (with everything someone can do in a life, there comes a point where you're only living to provide, to leave that lasting mark while making an internal promise to not leave anyone behind who needs them in their life, "no alarms and no surprises" is a quiet, gone feeling of just slipping away, not in control)

Sherry Birkin -

Everything in Its Right Place (repetition, glitched out memories of words, but the tone shift between the pacing and singing makes it feel like a slow moment in a fast scene, constantly dealing with everything at a time with no near end)

Ful Stop (true ignorance is bliss, choosing to know and ignore the wrong you see is its own form of moronic tragedy. This song represents the harsh reality that someone can face, and how destructive it may prove to be if you can't accept the truth. Most of the song is the repeated lyrics of "truth will mess you up" accompanied by a picked up pace in speed of the song as "all the good times" floods over the truth, covering up what should have been accepted a long time ago.)

Excella Gionne -

Nude (Soft, even tones and higher pitches as if it's a calm scene, but it describes a sort of guilt inducing scene, as if the nice sounds of the song are meant to be a false sense of safety to let the 'truth' in, a guilt towards either not being enough, or being too much for someone),

Burn The Witch (a sharp, repetitive song meant to replay a single type of feeling as something builds up, a feeling of confident anger accompanied solely by the idea that its meant to represent a panic attack. The chorus is a break in the pace to be a reminder of the duty, the reminder of being the messenger, the voice of the song)

[gingerbreadmonsters]

return to me

or: learning, growing, walking hand in hand.

gn!reader, no content warnings except blake-typical creepiness, some yandere-flavoured obsessive goodness. in the emptiness of night, you’re all he sees. look. i had a lovely little idea for blake that was all ready to go - he was going to get a nice day out with his listener, i was going to humanise him, show that he's not all bad… and now look what he's done! well. this is what you get for crossing me. enjoy your grapes, mr blake. i hope they're sour. a big big thank you to my love @haradasaya for proofreading! 💕💕 limerence, inspired by R.E.M.’s nightswimming and fe3h: cindered shadows chapter 6. the moon is low tonight. blake being left in awe in just over 2400 words.

There are very few beautiful things in the world, anymore.

(Some, but not many.)

Beauty is, unfortunately, a vanishing art. Everywhere, all around, at every moment the world becomes more and more diseased, more and more dull. The earth turns to rot, the water turns to scum, and beauty is swallowed by oblivion.

It's simply a fact of the universe. Entropy. All things tend towards their own destruction.

You might argue, of course. You might say, of course not! There are plenty of beautiful things out there still - all kinds of places and creatures and objects. There's a whole universe full of things out there! And everyone has different ideas of what's beautiful anyway, so how can you even measure how many beautiful things there are in the world to begin with?

Well then, if you did say that, you would be met with disbelief, probably. A look, incredulous, that tells you don't be stupid, honey. Not all things are beautiful, and there are some things that aren't beautiful to anyone. I ought to know.

You see, there are some very special people who just understand the order of things. Who just feel it, the natural order of the world, the way things are supposed to be. A feeling that can't be taught, but cultivated - a feeling that Blake, himself, is learning at this very moment to know and comprehend.

And because he's one of these precious few, one of those fortunate enough to have been shown the truth, he knows. Humans have always been funny about extinction and the loss of things. Take and take and take until there's almost nothing left, then either praise its survival as a miracle, or grieve its final death as gone too soon. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how rare and precious beauty truly is these days. Something reserved only for the most unique, most particular, most wondrous of things.

There is an order in the world, he has learnt. All things that do exist must exist within the laws of the world that allows them to be, and those laws dictate exactly where they fall in that great hierarchy of being that natural existence requires. That is to say, in all the world, there can only be one thing that is the most beautiful. Only one thing that stands above the rest, a single prize that puts all else to shame.

Is it any wonder, then, that he holds you so dear?

It's true, I'm telling you, he would say, if you laughed. You'd probably laugh. Entirely uncaring, unaware of the gospel that he imparts to you, and yet so utterly charming in your blissful ignorance. Everything has its order, everything has its place. Not everything can be beautiful to everyone, and some things aren’t beautiful to anyone at all. Seriously.

You might stare at him, incredulous, disbelieving. Yeah, right. How can you say that? It’s impossible. Where do heads end and necks begin?

Very well, trickster god, he would say, taking your challenge head-on. The museum is quiet, nobody there but the two of you. Let me explain it a different way.

Take a map from the display stand, take a badge from the visitors’ information desk. Exhibition hall is up the steps straight in front of you, and don’t forget to exit through the gift shop. The explanation wouldn’t be very complicated. You’d have no trouble understanding if he helped you.

Let’s start at the beginning. The most basic. All things that exist must exist, right? The criteria for being 'a thing that exists' is 'it must exist'. And if it exists, then it must have properties of some sort. Physical or metaphysical, it must have some sort of properties that distinguish it from all of the other 'things that exist'. Otherwise, all 'things that exist' would by definition be identical, because they would have no defining qualities to separate them from each other, as 'existing' is their only quality. Does that make sense?

You’d nod. I… think so? Never took you for the existential type. The tourist map creases in your hand as he leads you across the main museum floor..

So, we now know that all things that exist have at least one property that defines them as separate to everything else that exists. All of them must possess a unique combination of properties that distinguishes them from every other thing, in order to exist as a single, discrete thing. Look around you. Everything you see, every individual thing, is different. Colour, shape, size, volume, weight, material, age, spatial location - no two things are the same. In the whole universe, there can be no two truly identical things.

You’d look a bit more unsure on that bit, but he’d power through. It’ll all make sense in a minute.

If no two things can be truly identical, then surely it stands to reason that all things can be categorised. Can be ordered. By some measure, by some means, all things can be sorted. No two things can draw with one another, there’s no need for tiebreakers - one by one, all things must stand in line. If you can differentiate all things, then you must be able to put them into distinct categories.

It makes sense, right?

Each thing can fit into several different categories at the same time, but my point still stands. If you can put them into categories and they’re still unique - as we already know they must be - then you must be able to categorise them again. Over and over, smaller and smaller boxes, until everything fits neatly into place. Until everything is in order.

Hmm. You probably wouldn’t look convinced. Not to worry, it’s not that important just yet. The first time is always the hardest.

Leaning over a display case, examining the contents, your breath might mist on the cool glass. But what about things you can’t see? Things you can’t touch? Things that not everybody experiences the same way? Like feelings, or colours, or sensations. Which colour is the best? Which rollercoaster is the most fun? You can’t put them all in order. There’s no empirical way to do so. Your theory falls apart.

Does it? Your point is fair, considering that you don’t know any of the metaphysics at play here yet. If you could feel those feelings forever, you’d be able to compare them. It’s true, you can’t capture the best moment of a rollercoaster in a bottle. But if you could, wouldn’t that let you sort them just like anything else?

You’d open your mouth to retort, but he’d beat you to it. He always does.

We don’t have the means to do that, of course. But theoretically, if it were possible to measure every moment of your life - and it is, we just don’t know how to do it yet - then you’d be able to break them down to their base components. And once you’ve done that? Well. The only thing left to do is order. The only thing left at all is order.

You’d shake your head. Gently, he’d hold your chin as he repositioned your audio guide from where it would be about to slip.

You always sound so cute when you think you’re right. But everyone feels things differently, and not everyone will feel the same about the same things. If you’re terrified of rollercoasters, you won’t call them fun at all, but if you love them then you’ll say they’re the most fun you’ve ever had. By your logic, all people will have different categorisations for different things, which necessarily means that there can be no single universally applicable categorisation for everything.

Oh, you’d look so proud of yourself, voice echoing in the corridor as he holds the door to the next gallery open for you. Checkmate.

You poor thing. If only, little trickster god. You put up a good fight, but alas - the metaphysical theory behind it disproves you.

But h-

We can talk about it later, dear. He’d pretend to examine the object label on the wall to your left, brushing off your misplaced concern - you don’t really need to hear him explain all that. Far too boring, far too dense and dull. A singular waste of time and effort, especially considering how precious little time he gets to spend with you as it is.

Marble and varnished wood and wrought iron. The museum is vast and full of fascinating things. Easily enough to fill an afternoon and then some. Take your time.

Walk with him.

Beauty, it is said, is in the eye of the beholder. Blake disagrees. Whoever said that had clearly never met you. It’s difficult to understand, and harder to accept, but the black-and-white of it is undeniable - surely someone has to be the one to know. Surely there must be someone who bears the precious burden of truth. Eight million people. Why shouldn’t it be him?

(Perhaps he’s biased. Forgive him. He is, after all, only human.)

Ugliness and filth and corruption. How is it that you stand above it all? So perfectly ordinary, yet more than he could ever hope to imagine. Circumstance tries to destroy you, time and time again - maybe you realise, maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter. He knows, and as long as he’s here, you will always be protected. What’s the point of power if you can’t protect the things you love? You are beautiful, it's true - but weak, naïve, deprived of the knowledge of the world that you so desperately need, bereft of the guiding hand of truth. A flimsy, delicate creature. A precious, fragile soul. Nothing more than a butterfly, wandering blithely towards a hurricane. Blake has always been handy with a net.

(Nobody could deny it. Say what you will about Blake, but he's never been the type to take things for granted.)

It’s one thing, to have been shown the realisation of ruin. It’s another, to rally against it. Don’t you understand? He had to go away, to leave you lonely for a while, but it wasn’t his fault. He had to know the truth, and the truth is painful, the learning even more so. What man wouldn’t feel lonely, without you by his side? You’ve spoilt him with your presence, and in your absence a plan was made. Well, perhaps not made. Finalised. Solidified. Crystallised. The seed of the feeling has always been there, ever since you met - at last, it was time to water you, each tiny drop by his own careful hand.

The old Blake, that helpless, stupid creature - now remade in the dawning of the new day, baptised in the ocean of righteousness. The architect of his own future, and now yours too. Truth is truth is truth, and the audio guide in your ear speaks with his voice.

After all, who did you think made this place?

The victorious curator, hand in hand with his prize exhibit. Your frozen form, lovingly suspended in smooth resin, falling eternally but never hitting the ground. It’s all dedicated to you, it’s all for you, every shelf and hook and souvenir postcard. Would you call it greedy? Would you call it selfish? What is an archive, if not for the preservation of the collector? What is a museum, if not a prison cell of the past? Wall to wall, every facet of your being shimmers under the light. Every smile, every breath, every eyelash that you've ever wished on, kept forever in endless magnificence. If he’s selfish, so be it. His most glorious altar, and the god to which it is dedicated.

Turn up the volume of the audio guide, darling. Are you listening?

(It's funny, he guesses. He spends all this time waxing poetic about how all things are unique and special in the universe, in a world that doesn't even really exist. At least, not to anyone else. If it looks real, seems real, feels real - how are you meant to know the difference? Some people are just born lucky, and how fortunate, then, that he is the way he is. Puppets very rarely know the faces of their masters, and Blake has always been gentle with your strings.)

High ceilings catch the echo. This place, his greatest gift to the one he loves more than all else. Galleries go on forever and the cinema room plays an endless loop. People like to have weddings in museums, don't they? The sky outside is bright and white and nothing at all, and nighttime means nothing to a world that cannot end.

Look at you. Oh, just look at you. Encased in glass, resting gently on your wire skeleton, arm outstretched towards the skylight. Submerged in vinegar, no bubbles, leaning your head against the side of your big glass jar. Ice crystals glitter on your frozen tongue, marble fabric hangs immobile from your granite shoulder, familiar pairs of painted eyes gaze across the exhibition floor. You’re right behind him. You’re all around him. Every wall, every case, every frame - your lovely form fills them all. All things are equal on the altar of his adoration and he is your greatest disciple, raising the knife up in his hands and swearing on your name that he will bring you back to life. Watch over him, bless him, smile upon him. Just you wait. One last miracle.

Butterfly nets on every window. If you love it, never let it go. Here, you have always been perfectly preserved.

If only, if only, if only. The rest of the world would be so much simpler if that, too, were in his hands. The chosen one, with you eternally his first choice. As it is, he surveys his domain - marble stretches leisurely out in front of him, and a gilded ceiling hides the panicked wings tangled in the mesh, fluttering mournfully just outside his field of view. Sunsets come and go, the audio guide sings and sings, and the dust never settles.

Flesh and stone and the unending centuries of you. He kneels before you, kisses your hand, gazes into your eyes. The sound of church bells rings throughout the universe. Here, he doesn’t have to wonder. As ever, your devotee.

(It is said that the statue of a saint might speak to a believer. What are dreams for, if not the realisation of miracles?)

Tell me, honey. Your smile is as beautiful as ever. Do you think this is real?

Maybe, this time, you’ll reply.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[talubld-archive]

“you’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” ( for mattéo smiles )

SEND   YOU'RE AFRAID OF ME, AREN'T YOU?   FOR MY MUSES REACTION. / @aachromaa.

a few years ago his answer would have been different. a mixture of ignorance, compliance, and an undying allegiance towards the cause; deadly on all accounts when believing your sole purpose on this earth is to sacrifice your life for those who gave you the opportunity to have one in the first place. how could he be scared of somebody who held that power over them? drilled into from the very beginning to not fear anything - it could lead to hesitation which in return led to failure - something mattéo knew would be his demise if not by the hands of his enemy but of his leaders instead. and yet it wasn’t something he was AFRAID of because that would suggest there was something unknown about what would happen - rather, it was a matter of fact, and if failure had occurred at any point the outcome would be known. it was expected. if not from colress, then from somebody else. acceptance for any outcome was conditioned in him from the start.

but that wasn’t now. that was before the years of therapy to get him to understand that being controlled, both form and mind, was morally wrong in a plethora of ways. before realising that nobody should be put in a predicament that their life was meaningless when faced with a threat ending in death. and if mattéo was being completely truthful those thoughts had slowly started to seep in upon seeing colress freeze an entire city all in the name of research. in time he came to the realisation that the experiments done on him had only been surface levelled - that if plasma or colress had really wanted to, they could have done anything to him to get the results they wanted - NEEDED. would they have gone further? if he had stayed, just how much would he have changed? would he even be alive anymore? sometimes he wished that possibility could have been stripped away from him because the more he thought about it, the more his mind started to come undone from it. living in blissful ignorance as he once was. 

he remembers the lives he took, the lives he could have taken, and how it worked out in the end with plasma now being disbanded. 

“  i  was  never  afraid  of  you,  ”   he begins, looking directly at colress while fingers fiddled within his lap. small things picked up here and there which added to his personality, or rather, became his personality, included fidgeting to take his mind off any dark route it may take.   “  and  i  am  not  afraid  of  you  now.  should  i  have  been?  it  is  something  i’ve  asked  myself  and  others  often  with  all  the  answers  coming  back  as  a  solid  yes.  yet  there  is  something  incredibly  unsatisfactory  with  that,  like  it  does  not  fit  right  within  my  connotation  of  you  and  my  own  feelings  surrounding  you.  ”   

to this day understanding emotions, himself, others was a task sometimes deemed impossible, even with his acute knowledge obtained from studying in college. knowing what he does know, and knowing time can change anybody for better or for worse, a part of him remains sceptical over the scientist’s true intentions - which didn’t match with his idea of afraid.   “  what  i  am  frightened  of  is  the  power  you  possessed  and  still  could  do  now.  of  what  you  did  and  are  capable  of  still.  that  even  though  i  no  longer  agree  with  what  we  both  did  all  that  time  ago  nor  know  what  you  have  done  between  us  now,  i  still  trust  you  and  would  not  likely  hesitate  if  you  asked  me  to  follow.  ”   he’s stopped fidgeting now, too focussed on the conversation and his confidence to acknowledge the way his heart has sped up. he concludes his thoughts,   “  whether  you  hold  the  power  to  control  me  still  is  unknown,  even  if  you  mean  for  it  to  happen  or  not  -  not  knowing  causes  me  to  be  uneasy  but  i  am  not  afraid  of  you.  ”   

[chiwhorei]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

𝐚𝐤𝐚: 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬!!

pairing: t. amajiki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~1.3k

tags: pervy!tamaki, mean!tamaki, dubcon, degradation, voyeurism, masturbation, tentacles in all of readers holes, dacryphilia, choking

a/n: this is my very late contribution to the whorehouse porn compilation, the rest of this questionable browser history can be found here! strap in because this might be the grossest shit i’ve written so far. no plot, porn is the point here friends.

(cross posted to Ao3!)

hymn: gooey by the glass animals

The first time was an accident, genuinely.

He meant to text you he would be home early, ever the courteous roommate, but it truly just slipped his mind. Surprise would be an understatement when he swings the front door open to the high pitched whines coming from your bedroom.

Curiosity piquing, Tamaki lines his shoes up by the door and follows the noise. He can see the outline of light seeping through your open door and hears another round of cries. 

“Hey, are you ok--” His words flop lifelessly on the floor in front of him. Oh.

Oh.

His eyes trail up from the end of your bed. The open laptop propped in between your legs, the bottle of lube sitting next to your knee, your bare thighs and--

“Do you like what you see, Suneater?”

Tamaki flushes, heat starting at the bridge of his nose and spreading across every inch of skin. He should really say something, or better yet, close your fucking door and do the rest of his processing on the other side. 

He can’t seem to do anything but stand and stare at the dripping wet toy still being pumping in and out of your cunt. It seems to have completely hypnotized him, watching the way the silicone disappears in between your slick folds, he swears he can see the quiver.

“What do you think about my toy?” Purple and oblong, you pull it all the way out. Tamaki’s stare burns right into the suction cup ridges and slim, curved tip. You drag it in a wet line up your skin, meeting your lips with a pout. 

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

* * *

First time, shame on you.

That’s what they say, but Tamaki finds himself pressing against your doorframe and peering into your room for the 3rd time this week. His feet pull him here like a nasty habit, the crack in your door is far too welcoming. 

You left it open just for him.

Tamaki’s ears twitch, forehead tacky with sweat as he presses against the frame. Every time he finds himself in this very same position, shame trickles down his spine like poison.

Every inch of your skin is exposed to his stare. Looking upon you is invasive and slimy and wrong but fuck, with every movement of your toy, pumping in tandem with the hand around his painfully hard cock, the more each stolen glance feels intravenous. Tamaki is addicted. 

All he wants to do is touch you. Wrap you in his hold and explore every inch. He wants to know what your skin feels like. 

What does your hair smell like up close? He’s only ever been privy to the occasional carryover of strawberry as you walk by him in the kitchen. How do your moans feel vibrating just above his mouth? Would you cry out for him to stop or to keep going?

He’s never stepped closer than the line between carpet and hardwood, but that's really only a technicality. 

You feel it, foreign but unmistakable. The touch of something crawling up your leg, soft and sticky. It wraps around your leg, crawling upwards in salacious vines. Your voice rings in Tamaki’s ears. He repeats every syllable like prayer, his invitation.

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

There’s no movement to stop him, you don’t scream or tell him to fuck off. Your body seems to welcome him, back arching as five quirked fingers wrap around your arms and hips. The popping of suction cups trail from your belly button, dragging against your breasts before you feel pressure at your neck. Your skin will be covered in round bruises in the morning. The kindling in Tamaki’s stomach feels more like a wildfire, shy demeanor melting away. The man in front of you isn’t going to waste any more time hesitating.  

“You’re such a little tease. You like fucking with me don’t you, princess?” Tamaki’s question is sneering, his tone cold and unfamiliar.

The tentacle wrapping around your neck squeezes tight enough to make you gasp, he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

He doesn’t really want you to answer him.

As soon as your lips part, your mouth is invaded. The tendril reaches all the way to the back of your throat before it lets up, your jaw already hurting at the stretch. Your vision blurs, the taste of briny-sweet flesh mixes with the salty tears running down your face.

You’re given only a moment to sputter, catching your breath before it’s taken away again, the squeals and cries bubbling in your throat are wasted energy.

“Always leaving your door open, teasing me. I’m not playing your games anymore.” Tamaki’s voice is unwavering, he’s serious.

You wail around the rubbery texture as another tentacle wraps around your breasts, suctioning on the sensitive peaks of your nipples. Tamaki moves closer with each sound he can pull from you, finally breaching the last shreds of privacy and shuffling across the carpet. All five fingers on his right hand are busy probing parts of your pliant body and restraining others. Through the haze you can’t deny how dexterous he is while making a mess of you. 

It would be impressive if you could think straight.

Each arm and leg is caught in the reddish-purple web, writhing against his hold only makes Tamaki’s grip tighter.

“I could do anything to this sweet little body, what could you do to stop me?” His words should scare you, but only one thing runs through your foggy head. 

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

If you could, the scream pressed against your makeshift gag would definitely alert your neighbors to the depravity just a wall away. You feel attention turning to the toy still plugging your weeping hole, a tentacle wrapping around the base and pulling it free with a squelch. From the corner of your eye, you catch the shiny plastic as it’s thrown to the other side of the room, hitting your wall with a hollow thud.

The tip of one tentacle prods at your clit for good measure before poking inside. Fear runs through your blood, cooling when mixed with overwhelming pleasure. Tamaki can reach places you’ve never felt before.

“So tight, so fucking warm.” Tamaki can feel you with each clench of your pussy, sliding in until he can feel tight band of your cervix. He could ruin you if he wanted, he ventures to guess you would let him.

You’re crying in long, fat streaks around the apples of your cheeks. With the help of another set of weaponized fingers, your legs are spread further and pushed to your chest. Tamaki’s cock aches, now ignored in favor of manipulating your body into a new angle so your ass is propped up. Muscles tense as he swipes the tip of his tentacle to trace around your rigid ring of muscle.

“I’ll take every one of these slutty little holes. You’ll feel me on your skin for days.” He promises you, pushing past your resistant muscles, they’re no match.

Your head is swimming now, logic is replaced with the feeling of being so full.

Stimulation assaults your senses from every direction, Tamaki fucking into your body with fatal rhythm. Going farther, deeper, harder. All you’re left with is shaking limbs and muted whines.

It hurts, it feels so good. It’s so disgusting but so hot. You’re meek, bushy roommate has made you little more than a fucktoy with what seems like minimal effort. You’re hurdled to a sloppy wet orgasm faster than ever before. 

Tamaki can tell that you’re close, studying the way your eyes screw up and brows furrow before falling over the edge for weeks from the comfort of your door jam. The consuming bliss overtakes your body, every muscle tensing, shaking from exhaustion as the cord pulls tight and snaps with fury. If you could, you would scream out the name of your captor, all you can manage a garbled sound from deep in your chest.

The next few moments find you in pieces. The feeling of emptiness knocks at your hypersensitive body as you’re flipped to balance weakly on your hands in knees. You’re not left alone for long, Tamaki’s just getting started.

He’s never been one to play with his food, but you’re just too tasty.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[salemwritesxx]

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮.

𝕋 𝕒 𝕜 𝕒 𝕞 𝕚   𝕂 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕠 | ℍ 𝕒 𝕨 𝕜 𝕤

     ⇴ male reader      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ request: Can you do like a super fluffy hawks smut? Like keigo had a really bad day at work and just needs to be loved on

↣ rating: [18]+ ↣ warnings: smut, fluffy smut

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“Welcome back, Kei!”, you greeted your boyfriend, however, he only grunted in response and like that, telling you immediately that something was wrong.

However, before you could ask, the smaller hero just walked past you and into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving you behind. Tilting your head, you were a little worried, but decided to get back into bed again. Since you had come home earlier today, you had already showered and slipped into bed to read, waiting for Hawks. Though now that he was home, you wondered if something happened during the day that killed his mood.

Hawks was not one to cry easily, so when the tears started flowing on their own while under the shower, he couldn’t help but groan in annoyance. He was just so frustrated, it was such a shit and rough day. For him to not even be able to hold in his tears, Hawks was certainly at the peak of frustration and anger at that point.

As he had cried while showering, he did feel a little better once he stepped outside to dry himself, but now, there was something different he craved to distract him from the bitter taste that day left in his mouth; hence why he had used the time in the shower to prepare for his little plan. So, with a mere towel on, he walked from the bathroom into your shared bedroom where you were still sitting on the bed, reading your book.

You didn’t even look up, maybe because he had just grunted at you before, thus, without saying much, he walked over to your side of the bed. And you certainly couldn’t ignore him anymore when he slipped under your blanket, earning your yelp – a second later a moan followed.

“Kei-“, you were only able to groan before grabbing the blanket and pulling it away from him, the view making you gulp heavily.

There he was, head buried between your legs, his pretty lips wrapped around your soft cock and sucking you off. Though, bare moments later, Keigo was getting the anticipated reaction from you, feeling your dick harden and grow as his wet, hot mouth was just too much.

With your hand buried in his blond locks, you didn’t stop him, instead softly massaging his scalp as he sucked on your cock. Teasing your swollen tip with his tongue, Hawks was glad you didn’t reject him, because after all the things that had gone wrong that day, being rejected would have probably made him break down again.

“Baby- nghh, hey…”, you tried getting his attention, though couldn’t you hold back the blissful hiss when he sucked on your balls, making you shudder. Only for him to make his way up your shaft again, finally reacting when you lightly pulled on his hair.

With a whine and groan, Hawks looked up, meeting you eye to eye which only sent a strong, violent jolt down south, that made your cock twitch and grow even harder.  

“Jesus fuckin- I love you!”, with your other hand you grabbed his cheek, pulling him up and Keigo was happily and willingly following your movement until your lips collided.

“I love you, too!”, was finally the first thing he said since he came home, just to openly moan into your hot mouth when your tongues met.

Meanwhile, Hawks’ raised his hips, one hand pumping and guiding your cock to his ass, the other spreading his asscheeks. Thankfully, you also helped him when you grabbed and spread them yourself, exposing him only further as his twitching hole was soon stuffed with your cockhead.

Moaning almost in synch, you pushed him only closer as Keigo was lowering his hips onto your hard dick, swallowing it effortlessly thanks to his preparation in the shower. With one final thrust, he shoved your cock inside balls-deep, your pleasurable growl sent a chill up his spine and made him whimper.

Breaking the deep, sloppy kisses, you were both gasping for a moment, only for Hawks to bury his head in the crook of your neck, his arms tightly wrapped around you. For a few seconds, you were just half-laying, half-sitting in your bed, hugging him closely and trying to process what had just happened.

“Are you okay?”, your hand started to caress his beautiful red wings and back and the other massaging his scalp again, knowing how much he liked those soft touches.

“Hmh. I just… need you.”, he mumbled against your skin, warm lips pressing little kisses against your neck.

Keigo wasn’t even fully erect himself, though, granted, it wasn’t even about the sex right now or even reaching an orgasm. He just needed to feel you, hold you and be held, be connected with you.

“Sorry for jumping you like that…”, Keigo merely whispered again.

“It’s okay. I’m always here for you, Shortcake.”, you said back in a hushed voice, before peppering soft kisses onto the side of his head and shoulder – everywhere you could comfortably reach right now.

After a few moments of silence and both of your breathing calming down, Hawks then started moving a little, barely swaying his hips a bit. Raising his head eventually, you looked into each other’s eyes deeply for a few seconds, your little smile also making a small one flit across his lips, before he leaned in to kiss you. Small, soft kisses turning into deeper ones again as you kept on holding each other, Kei’s and your hips gently moving with one another.

Softly groaning and whining against your lips, you both moved slow and steady, stopping every now and then, just to enjoy the moment of being connected. His warm, wet ass engulfing your throbbing dick was a blissful tease, especially when he tightened here and there. All while you whispered sweet nothings and little “I love you”s. You broke away here and there to peck his lips a few time, before kissing all over his face, your lover finally giggling again.

“You okay, Kei?”, you quietly asked again after a few moments, your hips back to softly moving and lightly thrusting to hear his quickened breathing and cute moans as he cuddled closer. His answer a little whine and his lips back on yours for a kiss.

There was no rush or hard fucking, and that’s what he had needed; just being able to melt against your body and be caught in your arms when everything else was going wrong.

With soft gasps, Takami’s hips were twitching, his soft cock lightly rubbing against your abdomen as he was smushed against your body still. Thankfully, you didn’t let him go, even when he wanted to sit back up, thinking you might want him to start moving properly about now, you pulled him back down.

After a while, Hawks was just laying on top of you, cuddling and still sharing kisses. His lips already red and swollen, yet neither of you wanted to stop, by now, your own cock only semi-hard buried inside his ass. But it didn’t matter. It was more important for you that your lover was feeling loved and his racing mind put at ease.

Your hand was caressing all over of his body, wherever you could reach. Softly massaging his thighs, before rubbing circles on his hips and lower back, your hand always moving. Without realizing it, you were both lulled into sleep, still connected and snuggled together.

.

Once the little rays of sunshine tickled his nose, Hawks’s golden eyes opened, still groggy and disoriented, before the familiar feeling of his ass being filled sank in.

Rubbing his eyes, he glanced down to you who was sleeping soundly, while he was resting on top of you still. With a small smile and chuckle he leaned down to softly kiss your forehead just to snuggle his head back into the nook of your neck.

“Thank you, [Your.name]…”, was the only thing he whispered with his raspy voice, before he rose fully at last.

Grinding his hips against your soft dick, he was adamant to not let you slip out, having to thank you properly for last night. Plus, now that he had basically warmed your cock for the last hours and sleeping while being stuffed, the need to fuck was very prominent. When he heard little groans from you and your hands suddenly grabbed his ass, he knew you didn’t feel much different about it.

With a day starting so pleasantly, there was no doubt Hawks had already forgotten what had angered and made him cry with frustration yesterday. And it was all thanks to you; how did he really deserve such an amazing boyfriend?

“I love you.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: psa – hawks is tiny and deserves the world and if he has a shit day he needs all the love! thank you once again for the request anon

[rubysunnday]

Favourite brother - Part 2

A/N: well, part one went down surprisingly well! 

“So, Daphne is now a duchess...”

Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly at her brother, waiting for him to finish his comment. She looked back down at her embroidery and poked the needle through the fabric. “And?”

Colin leant forward in his chair. “Perhaps, now, the ton will be watching you.”

Y/N let out a unladylike snort. “Oh, please. As long as Miss Thompson is around and as long as Daphne and Simon are in their ‘newlywed’ bliss, I will always be the wallflower of the family.”

Colin eyed his sister with a sad gaze. He didn’t miss the way she stabbed her needle through the fabric a little harder than necessary nor the way she practically glowered at Anthony (probably hoping he would spontaneously combust). 

“Colin, I can feel you staring at me,” Y/N said, looking up from her embroidery to give her brother a level stare. “What is it?” “You truly don’t believe you are worth anything, do you?”

Y/N paused, needle halfway through the fabric. She slowly pushed it through, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes.

Colin was right. She didn’t see herself as worthy of anything. Compared to Daphne who’d captured the eye of the ton and then a duke and a prince, she’d had nothing. Her three older brothers had always been swarmed with suitors and Y/N had truly believed that, maybe, one day, it would’ve been like that for her.

But apart from an almost marriage to Nigel Berbrooke that was out of spite to her brother and sister and was unwanted by her, she had had no proposals and no suitors.

A fact she wanted to blame Anthony for but that Y/N knew was down to nothing more than bad luck. 

If she’d made her debut a year later it would’ve been the same story. Everyone would’ve been captivated by Eloise and she would’ve been forgotten. Or everyone would’ve been terrified of Eloise and been forced to look at Y/N.

Either or.

When you were a twin of someone who excelled in everything you didn’t, it was easy to be overlooked and forgotten - especially in a family of nine. 

But up until she and Daphne came of age, she hadn’t felt overlooked. She’d felt loved and seen as an equal to her brothers. Anthony hadn’t been so protective (He'd always been protective of them all. But compared to how Benedict was when someone upset or threatened his family, Anthony was a saint.). 

Everyone fawned over Daphne when she began courting Simon - and rightfully so. But Y/N’s prospects and potential suitors had become nothing more than polite conversation between her and her ladies maid. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N inhaled sharply and jumped slightly at Colin’s voice. She looked over at him and gave him a somewhat unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. I just feel somewhat underwhelming compared to my sister,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her embroidery. 

Which was beginning to look less and less like a violet and more like an oddly shaped duck. 

Colin, sensing his sister wasn’t in the mood to be proved wrong, left the conversation there. He also didn’t want to end up with a sewing needle in his eye - the chances of which were becoming increasingly likely the more he poked and prodded. 

It was a beautiful ballroom.

There were candles in every window and garlands of flowers draped across the walls with petals dashed across the floor. 

The garden was a lit with numerous furnaces and torches that blazed in the summer night and the fountain set in the centre of the sprawling, immaculate hedges and flowers trickled away.

None of the beauty, however, was making Y/N feel any better about being left out of yet another ball.

She’d been standing on the sidelines watching ever since she’d arrived. Benedict had offered to dance with her but Y/N hadn’t wanted to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown for dancing with no one but her own brothers so had declined the invitation.

Instead she chose to stand and watch the beautiful couples dance around the room as she sulked and drank yet another glass of lemonade. 

“Why are you skulking back here?” Anthony asked, approaching his sister with a confused, concerned and curious expression.

Y/N swallowed the rather large gulp of lemonade she’d taken and tried not to give her brother a glare. “No one’s asked me to dance.”

“I’m sure Colin -”

“That is not the point, Anthony!” Y/N exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve had no one to dance with apart from my brother’s and Simon, who is now my brother too!” She almost growled but remembered that half the ton were around and forced herself to calm down. “Daphne has been the centre of everyone’s attention and had the suitors falling at het feet. I thought that now she’s married, they’d look to me - but apparently no one settles for second best.” 

Anthony stared at his sister. “Y/N, you’re not second best to anyone.”

Y/N scoffed. She set her empty lemonade glass down, slightly worried she was going to through it at her brother’s head. “Then why haven’t you looked at me twice all season, Anthony? You walked off at my very first ball, leaving me to flounder. You never escorted me - not even tonight! You have, so far, not cared about who comes calling for me - which was no one, by the way - and you don’t care that I have had no suitors, no callers and no proposals!”

She was breathing fast and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was angry. She was so angry and even though most of the anger was at the ton for being so vain, she couldn’t very well direct it at a ballroom full of people.

Instead she directed it at her older brother, the one who should’ve looked out for her and guided her through her first season in society but didn’t.

Anthony, for once, had the decency to look hurt by his sister’s accusations. He had a broken look on his face as he realised she was right and that he’d ignored  her. He was stunned into silence.

But Y/N hadn’t want pitiful silence, she’d wanted an argument - for Anthony to get angry at her and prove her wrong but also right.

“Say something!” Y/N snapped, glaring at Anthony. 

 Benedict and Colin had noticed the, somewhat heated argument, and were trying to weave their way through the crowd to intervene before one of them snapped and punched the other.

Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. He was speechless - a rare feat, indeed.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the door to the garden. 

Benedict and Colin made it to Anthony’s side and frowned.

“What was that all about?” Benedict asked, looking at Anthony expectantly. 

Anthony swallowed and forced himself to look at his brother. “She hates me.”

Colin, who had sensed the argument was coming, put a hand on Anthony’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s angry at the world and the expectations society place on her shoulders. All she really wants, Anthony, is you.”

“I’ve ignored her almost this entire season,” Anthony said, staring at Colin. “How...”

“There’s still a few weeks left of the season, though,” Colin reminded him. He gestured to the door that Y/N had fled through. “Go on.”

Anthony didn’t need anymore encouragement, he brushed past his brother’s and all but marched through the crowd towards the door. 

Y/N had disappeared out onto the fire lit terrace of the house and was leaning on the stone bannister, trying to calm down. 

She loved her brother. Truly, she did. She also knew that he would never do anything to ruin her prospects intentionally.

That didn’t, however, stop her from wanting to throttle him. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel Anthony watching her and heard his footsteps approaching closer as he walked up to her. 

“Are you alright?” 

There was concern - genuine concern - in his voice. Y/N was usually good at keeping her emotions together and not breaking down until she was either with her mother or on her own.

But all it took was Anthony’s concerned question and a gentle hand on her shoulder for her to lose any control she’d had.

Y/N felt the tears drip down her face and turned to Anthony, practically throwing her arms around him and clinging on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. 

Slightly surprised by her sudden change in emotion, it took Anthony a moment to catch-up with the fact his sister was sobbing in to his arms and needed, not Lord Bridgerton, but her big brother. 

Anthony wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, waiting for her to speak.

Y/N eventually managed to get control of her emotions again and she stepped away from Anthony, wiping her eyes as delicately as she could to avoid ruining her make-up.

“Sorry.”

“Never apologise for being human,” Anthony said softly, sitting next to her on a bench. 

Y/N sighed. “I’m just... compared to Daphne I am nothing. No one has even looked twice at me this entire season. I’m her sister and nothing more.”

Anthony put a hand on her knee. “Do you truly believe that?” He asked, looking her in the eye.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. All I wish is for someone, anyone, to look at me and call on me because they like me. Not because they wanted an easy way to my sister or to you or to Eloise or to anyone who isn’t me!” 

“Y/N, you are a wonderful young lady and if those men can’t see it -”

“Then they’re not worth my time, I know,” she said, shooting Anthony an amused smile. “You sound like Benedict.”

“I believe you meant that Benedict sounds like me, he did come second after all,” Anthony quipped.

Y/N smacked her brother on the arm. She shook her head with a smiles she tried not to laugh. 

“Come on,” Anthony said, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bridgerton?”

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.” 

“Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton?” Y/N turned around. A young man, Lord Durrell if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of her looking slightly anxious.

“Yes, Lord Durrell?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows in his trademark brooding, older brother way.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance this evening?” Durrell asked, looking directly at Y/N.

Y/N smiled and held out the arm that her dance card was on. “Of course, Lord Durrell. After I’ve dance with my brother, of course.”

Lord Durrell smiled and wrote his name on her card. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing down.

Y/N curtsied slightly in response and watched as he left. She waited a few seconds and then squealed and jumped up and down. 

Anthony chuckled, stepping back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb. “See, I told you.”

“No, you didn't, actually,” Y/N said, taking her brother’s arm. “You just repeated what Benedict said and gave me a hug.”

“Which is just as important.”

“Naturally.”

Anthony led Y/N to the dance floor and the two took up their positions. 

“I don’t say this often enough,” Y/N said as they danced around the room, “but I’m so glad you’re my brother, Anthony.”

Anthony managed to concel his surprise by twirling Y/N around and using the brief moment she wasn’t looking to show his surprise before hiding it again. 

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life,” she continued, oblivious. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Anthony nodded and smiled, twirling her around again. 

Later on, however, when he was in his own lodgings away from prying eyes, Anthony looked back on the moment and had to hide his tears in a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of paperwork he had to fulfil. 

[winter-soldier-vibes]

“I Don’t Hate You Like I Hate Myself” (Bucky x reader)

“I don’t hate you like I hate myself”

Bucky x reader

Word count: 4224

Warnings: eating disorder/bulimia, self hate

Summary: Reader suffers from an eating disorder and Bucky finds her purging one night. 

A/N: Sorry it’s been so long, I really am. It’s been a hell of a few months. Still working through it and writing has been helping me. I hope you are all doing well, reach out to me if you need me, and of course, if this in ANY WAY may harm your journey, feel free to skip <3

------------------------

“Goodnight guys” you said, a slight laugh in your voice. You stood up with your empty plate and placed it in the sink. There were a few groans around the table.

“But it’s so early,” Tony said, the others nodding in agreement

You looked at the watch on your wrist. “It’s 8 pm, Tony.”

“Exactly!” Thor said, shaking his head as if it were obvious. 

You shook your head at them. “Goodnight everyone,” you said, turning around and walking up the stairs.

As soon as you were out of sight, you let out a breath of relief and dropped the smile. You rubbed your face in exhaustion and closed your eyes a little, feeling heavier with each step. Truth be told, you were exhausted. But you still had something else you had to do. 

You pick up the pace walking to your room, thoughts spiraling faster as you closed the door and locked it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn on soundproofing.” you said.

“As you wish, y/n.” the A.I. responded. 

You sighed, and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. You knew no one would come in, but it was a force of habit by now. You tied your hair back and filled a hidden water bottle with tap water before chugging it, and then lifted the toilet seat. ‘Damn family dinners,’ you thought to yourself. You took a deep breath as you leaned over the toilet, pushing one hand into your stomach and used the other to stick 3 fingers down your throat. After a few small gags, you started choking up your dinner as well. 

You had tears streaming down your face, not necessarily from sadness but from exertion. You coughed after one particular gag, until eventually nothing more came up. You placed your hands on either side of the toilet to steady yourself, back heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart raced and your head pounded, so you tightly shut your eyes and shook your head slightly. 

You stood in front of the mirror, sideways. You lifted your shirt and sucked in your stomach as much as you could. It was flat.

‘That’s much better,’ you thought to yourself. You flushed the toilet and turned on the shower. You became emotionless, running through the routine you always did. Wash your hands, cold water to the face, spray the air freshener, and take a shower to wash away the shame. 

You didn’t want to do this to yourself. You just didn't know what else to do. 

You thought it was just about the food. It was just about the way you looked, the size of your clothes, the number on the scale. That was all it was supposed to be. How did it grow to be so much more?

Every time was supposed to be the last time. You never meant to do it. But any time you ate anything, you just felt sick to your stomach. At first it was with shame and anxiety - now it was a physical nausea that overtook you. You thought this would make it easy to eat less, and it did. 

Until you felt sad

Or mad

Or stressed

Or a mission went slightly wrong

Or you began overthinking the smallest things

And whenever you felt anything negative you just needed to replace that with something else. A distraction, something to numb you out. To make you feel less than this overwhelming, crushing emotion. You needed to get it out. 

So you ate.

And then you threw it all up with all of your emotions, until you were left in a quiet bliss

You knew, logically, as a human, that you needed to eat. But it always felt wrong. Like it wasn’t for you, like you were weak for eating. You weren’t naive, you knew the side effects of bulimia. You had begun to experience a few of them - dizziness mainly. But it hadn’t become an issue yet. It didn’t interfere with your work, therefore, it wasn’t a problem. No one had caught on aside from a few minorly concerned looks. Not that you would ever let anyone in. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the team, God no. You loved them and would trust them with anything other than your mind. No, it was more of an embarrassed sickening feeling you got. You didn’t know what to say, there was no reasonable explanation for this. Hell, you didn’t even quite know why you did what you were doing. It was easier this way, simpler. 

It was your problem to fight. Not theirs. You knew your limits. 

With a sigh, you turn off the shower water, stepping out and wrapping a towel lazily around yourself. You kept your eyes from the mirror as you stepped into your room and over to your dresser to put on some pajamas. Sweatpants and a tank top. You sat on your bed and flopped back, rubbing your hands over your face. 

Another day done. Countless more to go.

You looked at your phone to check any notifications. Aside from a few news updates, there were 2 texts from Bucky:

‘You okay?’ received 42 minutes ago

‘If you’re not you know where I am. Sleep well’ received 38 minutes ago.

You smiled a little. You were all a family, you and the team. Bucky and you seemed to bond in the way that introverts tend to. The way that brings out the extrovert in the other. The way that hanging out didn’t have to mean you spoke because you both found comfort in the silence. You grew the closest with him, often checking in with each other. If he had a nightmare, he came to you. Or you went to him, depending on how bad it was. You would talk to him about small matters, but you would never think of telling him about any of this.

You shuddered at the thought. No one could ever know about this. 

You closed your phone after deciding it was best not to respond. It had been too much time since he had sent the messages, and if you sent something now he might wonder what you had been doing for almost 45 minutes. Best to not reply until morning, blaming it on the exhaustion that never left your body. 

You placed your phone on your nightstand and rolled over, shutting your eyes and willing sleep to come easily. Over time you began sleeping less and less, and now it was a miracle if you were able to at all. Maybe it was the hunger pains, or the reflux, or this overwhelming fear that something bad was going to happen. The stress of being an Avenger, of keeping up your act, of being perfect all the time. 

It was exhausting. But not in the way that sleep would ever be able to fix. 

No, this was a type of tiredness that kept you awake. You had to stay alert all the time. Sleep wasn’t restful or enjoyable anymore. It was elusive. You needed a break from your life. Sleep wouldn’t ever be able to provide that. Not when you would be waking up to deal with it all over again. 

You sighed. You hated this. You hated what you were doing, you hated that you couldn’t stop. You hated that you couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not because you didn’t trust them, but because you didn’t know if you wanted to stop. And if you let them in, you didn’t want to be letting them down by slipping up. And you wanted to stop but...you didn’t know how. You didn’t feel good enough, you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And nothing else could make you feel better like this could

You hated yourself. You hated yourself in a way that no one else ever could. In a way that made you wonder if you would ever be able to love yourself with the innocence you once did. 

You turned over again, willing your racing thoughts to slow to a steady jog at least. You took deep breaths, still trying to calm your pounding heart from earlier. As you started to relax a little, feeling closer to sleep, you remembered one last thing you had to do.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn soundproofing off,” you said softly.

“Of course, Y/N,” the A.I. responded.

And with that, you drifted off.

-----

You were rudely awakened by a few sharp knocks at your door. You startled awake and sat up quickly, only to be greeted by a huge headrush. “One minute,” you called out groggily, rubbing your eyes and standing up. Once again, your vision began to black out but you ignored it. You were used to it at this point. It always went away eventually. You pulled over a cardigan and padded over to the door, opening it.

You opened the door to a very much awake Bucky, who seemed to have just gotten back from a run. You weakly smiled, hoping you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Unfortunately, you don’t think that was the case, seeing as Bucky’s smile almost immediately faltered as he took in your tired face. Dark circles under your eyes and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Yes, Buck?” you asked, pulling him out of his concerned stare.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. He knew what being tired felt like, but he had never seen it to this extent on anyone aside from him. He knew you had been tired lately, going to bed early, waking up late, yet seeming to grow more tired by the day. 

You sighed and rubbed your eyes a little. “Yeah, I’m good. Just trying to wake up a little.” you said with a little laugh, dismissive. 

Bucky worried about you. He felt close to you but he worried that you didn’t feel close to him. He could always count on you to be someone he could turn to. But no matter how hard he tried, you didn’t seem comfortable opening up to him. He knew it would take time and he didn’t take it personally. He just wanted to be able to be there for you the way that you were there for him. He knew something had been bothering you, he just didn’t know how to approach it. 

He looked into your eyes. “You sure about that?” he asked.

You mustered the best smile you could. “Yes, I am fine. Just -”

“Tired. I know what that’s like,” he said with a slight laugh. “You know that you don’t have to be fine right?” he said reassuringly. It had become his line with you, to make sure that you knew he was there if you wanted to open up. And while you found it very sweet, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You wanted to trust him, and you hated making him feel like you didn’t trust him. You just didn’t know how. 

Instead you opted for a nod with a small laugh, desperate to get as far away from this conversation as possible. “I swear, I’m fine,” you said a little more strongly this time. 

Bucky nodded, unconvinced but willing to drop it. If you weren’t ready to talk about it, that was okay. For now. “Do you want to come down and get some breakfast? I think Sam and Clint were making a ton of food for everyone. 

You ran through your options. If you didn’t go down, people would be suspicious. If you did, you would have to eat and find time to get rid of it after, plus deal with the banter of the team for leaving so early. You weren’t supposed to eat yet, it was far too early. But Bucky was already suspicious, so it would be best if you just went down and got rid of it later. All of this ran through your mind in a second before you said:

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” to which Buck turned around and you closed the door. 

After a few seconds you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, resting your head against the door. You cursed yourself internally for agreeing but knew it was the option that raised the least suspicion. You went into the bathroom to wash your face quickly and before you knew it you were studying your body. Turning around, looking at yourself from every possible angle. It happened every time. Coming back to reality, you dressed quickly in some baggy clothes before taking a deep breath and heading down to the kitchen area. 

You were greeted with the smell of all things breakfast, and when you walked in you saw loads of everything there could possibly be. They really went all out. Which made you even more nervous: you didn’t want to seem ungrateful or hurt their feelings. 

You had stopped at the door, and Tony was the first to see you.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” he said, bringing the small conversation to a stop for a moment while everyone recognized your appearance. You gave a small wave and a smile before coming in and sitting down. You tried your best to not show your anxiety or exhaustion. There was so much food, and you didn’t want to offend people by not eating but you didn’t know if you would be able to stop once you started. 

Everyone was sitting around the table making small conversation and starting to eat. You were taking deep breaths as nonchalantly as you could. You grabbed a few things to put on your plate, trying to keep a steady hand. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem - you’d have a few days of no one noticing you skipping meals, then have dinner all together before you all parted ways. You could prepare for that. But breakfast the morning after was sprung on you, and you didn’t think you should be eating in this small of a time window. 

You tried to join in on the conversation, pushing things around on your plate as you did so. You thought you were hiding it well, but from across the table you caught Bucky glancing your way with concern. So you started eating more. 

It was delicious, you couldn’t deny that. You soon cleaned your plate and began filling it back up with more this time. You could feel your stomach expanding and your heart rate was picking up. As you finished your second plate of food, you felt the anxiety set in. You tried to remind yourself that it was a normal amount, and that you hadn’t been eating enough for a normal person. Eating was normal. Eating was normal. 

But you weren’t normal. 

“Well, this has been great, and thank you Sam and Clint, but I think I’m going to go lie down,” you interjected into the conversation, pushing your chair out.

“Leaving again so early?” Tony asked, not unkindly. You looked around the table before landing eyes on Bucky, concern filling his face.

You swallowed nervously before saying. “Yeah, sorry guys. See you in a bit!” you added and hoped you didn’t sound as desperate as you felt to leave the room. You turned around and walked towards the door, conversation picking back up while Bucky watched you leave. Something didn’t sit right with him.

After you had gotten around the corner you picked up the pace, resisting breaking into a jog. You made it to your room, heart pounding in your chest and nearly threw yourself in, closing the door and turning to the bathroom. You closed that door too, locking it as a force of habit. You were usually methodical about this process, you had a system. But you were desperate at this point. You tied your hair up messily and filled up a hidden water bottle at the sink before chugging it and turning to the toilet. 

Back in the kitchen, Bucky decided that he was going to go check on you. He excused himself and thanked Sam and Clint for the food before heading in the direction of your room. 

You were bent over the toilet retching. You hated this so much. It hurt, it didn’t feel good, but you felt so relieved doing it. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t like doing it, but it somehow was the one thing that helped you feel better.

What you didn’t realize was that you hadn’t locked your room door. Nor did you turn on the soundproofing feature of your room. 

Bucky knocked on your room door, to which he was met with silence. You simply didn’t hear him. Not liking the feeling in his stomach, he let himself in. To his surprise, you weren’t there. But then he heard you retching. 

He furrowed his brows. Why hadn’t you said you were sick? Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the bathroom door before knocking. And you froze.

“Are you okay in there?” you heard him ask.

Shit. 

You swallowed before responding with “Yeah, I’m fine.” You cursed yourself for the weakness and wavering in your voice. You quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. You were a mess, red face and tear-streaked face. You washed your hands and then your face, trying to get rid of as much inflammation as you could. 

You took a deep breath and leaned against the sink. How could you have forgotten the most important parts of your process? How could you have been so stupid? How were you going to talk yourself out of this?

“Y/n?”

You opened the door with your head down as you tried to walk around Bucky. But he gently stood in front of you before guiding your face to his, his eyes widening at your red eyes and face. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” he asked.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not fine if you’re throwing up. I swear, if Sam made something that made you sick -”

“It’s not like that” you interrupted.

Bucky paused for a moment. “What do you mean it’s not like that?”

You clenched your jaw and looked away, backing up a little. “Nevermind.”

Bucky stood in front of you again, a little more insistent now. “No, what do you mean? Are you sick?”

“Buck-”

“Y/n.” he insisted. 

You took a deep breath. “I throw up sometimes,” you said quietly, but loud enough for Bucky to hear it. He shifted on his feet. “What do you mean?”

You looked at him sadly, shaking your head. “It won’t make sense,” you said.

“Then help me understand,” he said. 

You took a few breaths before trying to piece it together. “I don’t know what happened. I was just supposed to lose a few pounds. And sometimes I would eat too much, and throwing up made me feel better. And now I can’t stop. It was just supposed to be about losing weight but now I can’t stop,” you finished before finally looking him in the eye again.

Bucky’s face contorted to one of more concern. Your eyes filled with tears at finally revealing your secret. Bucky came closer to you and pulled you into a hug as you sobs started wracking your body. Bucky held you tightly, whispering that it was okay. He breathed deeply and steadily, hoping you would be able to fall in rhythm with him. 

You were able to start breathing with him and calming down. After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked “How long has this been going on?”

You shook your head. “I don’t even know.” you said, defeated. 

Bucky took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You shrugged weakly. “It wasn’t your problem.” you said.

“I want to help, y/n,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “You always help me or anyone else on the team whenever we need it. If we were going through this wouldn’t you want to help us?”

“Of course I would,” you said firmly, tears building up.

“Then why can’t you let me help you the way you help me?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly. “It’s not that simple, Buck.”

He looked at you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not like that,” you said a little louder, turning around. You could feel yourself beginning to break.

“What’s the difference between me and you? Why can’t-”

“Because I don’t HATE you!” you exclaimed, turning around with pain in your eyes. “It’s not the same thing because I don’t hate you. I want to help you, because you are a good person, and I like you. I don’t like myself. I deserve this so I’ve accepted that this is what I need to do. I don’t care if it hurts me, because I don’t care about myself!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face again and breathing heavily. “That’s the fucking difference.”

Bucky looked at you sadly. “Is that really how you feel about yourself?” he asked, saddened even more when you began nodding. “What did you do that was so wrong?”

You shook your head, anger calming down into sadness. “I don’t know. I never liked myself. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere, and I never have. And I’ve accepted that I may never feel like I will. This isn’t the kind of sick I know how to heal. People catch a cold or break a bone and there are active steps to fix it and a set timeline before it gets better. And it won’t bother them again. But this,” you tap both sides of your head repeatedly, “this I can’t fix. I don’t know how, I don’t know where to start. I’ve tried but it never really goes away. There’s no medicine or action or rest period or any kind of shit like that. It’s me against me. I’m always gonna lose this battle. I’m not the kind of sick that can get better, Buck,” you shrugged slightly and shook your head. “Not for me.” 

Bucky’s face saddened even more, knowing all too well the feeling of not belonging. He knew the pain of self doubt and self hate, and feeling like you were a bad person. But he had done so many things as the winter soldier, how he killed so many innocent lives. You were one of the kindest people Bucky knew. He didn’t understand how you could feel this way. 

Bucky started walking closer to you slowly. “Y/n...I know what that feeling is like. You know that. But I don’t understand why you would feel that way about yourself.” he was now standing in front of you. “You’re one of the most generous people I know, you’ve helped me so much. I know you’ve helped everyone here. No one here hates you, y/n.” 

“I know,” you said. Before Bucky could respond you continued, “I know there’s no reason for me to feel this way. I know logically I didn’t do anything wrong. But it’s just this...this thing in my head. And it never goes away. And I know all it tells me is lies but the only way I can make it stop is by throwing up. I know it’s messed up, I just can’t make it stop,” you said, looking down again.

Bucky guided your face back to meet his. “Can I try to help? You can always talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

You breathed out. “I don’t know,” you said truthfully. 

Bucky noticeably stiffened, and you quickly added, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Not at all, I do, it’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you.” you said. “I don’t want to fuck up and hurt you because I couldn’t be strong. I don’t want to bother you every goddamn day with this petty bullshit I have going on.” you took a deep breath and looked away again. “I don’t want you to leave out of frustration that I couldn’t be strong for you.”

“Is that really what you think I would do?” he asked. When you nodded, he went on. “I would never be disappointed at you trying your best. It’s okay to mess up, to have bad days, it’s not going to be perfect. Life can be a little fucked up sometimes, but what I’ve learned is that the hardest way through it is alone.” he said with emphasis, knowing all too well the pain of keeping your emotions in. 

You leaned into him again, his arms wrapping you into a hug. “Promise you won’t leave?” you asked softly.”

His arms tightened around you. “I’m not going anywhere.”