#im really trying my best here im just very sad

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[flugame-mp3]

SEASON NINE FINALE WAS WILD. I HAVE MANY MANY THOUGHTS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. A FUCKING ROLLER COASTER FOR SURE

[spiked-mall-goth]

heyyyyyy <3 <3 i feel terrible.

i had planned to stay off longer but i genuinely have had like three nervous breakdowns since i left bc right as i decided it was abt time i just chill for a little bit everything started happening all at once. so i came back to see my silly little internet friends, but like the second i logged back on some ppl were talking smack abt me sooooooooo... ya know. my day (two weeks) be so fine,, then BOOM my entire schedule fills up and i become hollow on the inside! (hey sorry like vent post n tags i need to get things out of my brain)

[jentlemahae]

-

[thecherrygod]

... man i just remembered how last night i had a dream by the end of it there was a cat, and in it i said "oh she looks exactly like tigra!! are you also an attention seeking dumbass like her?" and it was so i may have actually dreamt about her

[applexi]

.

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw: sewerslide and SH

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[seungfl0wer]

Hyunjin As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut🩷

Small note, hyunjin is really just- coming for me lately. So I needed this more than I knew lol

-🩵

•The hopeless romantic.

•He’s thinking of the best. Date ideas.

•They’re so thought out, so unique and cute-

•Takes you two to the beach for a beautiful picnic.

•Movie nights laying on your bed with a projected on the ceiling so y’all can cuddle.

•Plans cute painting dates.

•Speaking of paintings.

•Has so many doodles, drawings ext that are of you or things that make him think of you.

•Your first date? It’s a painting.

•That one picture he just melts seeing.

•It’s a cute little doodle he keeps in his phone case.

•Loves writings you little notes that you can put in your phone case.

•Loves telling others “that’s my partner”

•Gush’s about you a lot.

•Especially to the members.

•Which he always likes to tease you about them.

•”Ah- y/n why are you talking to innie? I’m right here? Your handsome boyfriend”

•And when you give any of them a hug.

•Mans whining “Right infront of me? How could you. We need to go home and change your clothes of his dirty touch”

•All in good teasing, makes you laugh, makes the members laugh.

•Sits and judges people with you.

•Like you don’t like someone?

•He’s picking up the same vibes but it’s plastered on his face.

•Random dance battles.

•Ending in you both on the floor laughing at each other.

•He’ll do the little “ew” thing to you when you ask for a kiss cause you pout and he just loves that.

•”Ew we can’t kiss! I have a partner”

•Likes to take you traveling with him especially to fashion shows.

•You’re always his plus one for anything.

•Tells you all the time “you should model you’re stunning”

•Ugh and this mans complimenting you so much.

•”My partner is just amazing, they look so pretty, they’re so stunning”

•Tries to learn about stuff you like so you both can do it.

•You like Knitting? He’s learning it.

•You like to play a certain game? He’s trying it out too.

•He gets the big sad when he’s away.

•Literally thinks he’s gonna die.

•Calls you from his room saying “I can’t go on my babies not here with me, it’s been 6 years”

•Dramatic man.

•Sends you so many dumb (cute) little videos.

•Also sends you so many pictures.

•So. Many. Pictures.

•Also listen- yall getting matching jewelry.

•Because he’ll be on tour and see these cute bracelets and need to get them for the both of you.

•He’s a really good gift giver too.

•Not that you want him too, and no matter how much you protest.

•He finds the most you gift. Like it’s scary.

•Overall this man is such a hopeless romantic.

•Be ready to be treated like a god.

•Cause honestly that’s how he views you.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•He’s just as romantic in the bedroom.

•Does the whole rose peddles to the bed.

•Candles, good music ext.

•His favorite way of fucking you is anyway he can see your face.

•He just wants to be able to kiss you.

•Hands frantically touching your body.

•Also think he’s very vocal. Not so much talking.

•More of he has his head in your neck moaning and groaning.

•Is definitely leaving marks on you. Thinks they’re pretty.

•Im a firm believer that he loves when you ride him facing him.

•He can hold onto tightly, hands running all over you.

•Both of your faces contorting in pleasure.

•Likes when you suck or bite his neck.

•Honestly probably likes when you choke him. Not hard but just enough.

•If he does talk it’s him whimpering about how good you feel or how good you’re doing.

•If you got tittie he sucking them. Feel like he’s a tittie kinda guy.

•Man also really enjoys shower sex.

•It’s just so so intimate.

•And this. This is the most loving kind of sex.

•It’s normally when he is really needy and just wants you.

•The feeling of the warm water while he fucks you makes him cum so fast.

•He just loves loves it.

•Aftercare with him is a lot of loving words.

•Cuddling on the bed as he pushes his hair out of your face.

•Telling you how much he loves you.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[liketolovexx]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)

[hellhazbinstuck]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some angst with the hazbin hotel characters? Like we get into an argument and they yell and notice we went silent, looking as if we were gonna break down into tears, IM SORRY I JUST LIVE FOR ANGST AHHH

Hazbin Hotel characters making their S/O cry

Alastor

He was preparing for tomorrow night's broadcast when he heard the door open.

He had been working on his radio broadcast and hotel things for the whole day. He was under so much stress and took it out on you.

"Darling, you know I've been in here all day. Is it that difficult to knock?! You know these things are important! Why must you interrupt me?!"

He didn't get an answer. You just slammed the door and ran out.

He felt terrible as soon as he saw sadness in your eyes.

He ran after you and hugged you, rubbing circles on your back and telling you how sorry he was.

Lucifer

He was very pissed at how much Alastor and Charlie got along.

He was working on his rubber ducks, not hearing you walk in.

He didn't know you were in the room until you hugged him from behind.

"What? What is it now?!" He shouted, dropping his rubber duck to the floor.

"Could you leave me alone for five minutes when you know I'm busy?!"

"Wow, fuck you!" You said before slamming the door and using your powers to get to the hotel.

Alastor opened the door to see you crying and brought you to the couch, giving you a hug.

You barely got the chance to finish telling Alastor what happened before Lucifer ran to you, crying and apologizing.

You were able to talk things out and agreed to be more open about feelings.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was working on a new invention. But, since he was trying to get redeemed, it couldn't be for evil.

He was trying to build things to help with the hotel. Right now, he was making something to lift Niffty up around the hotel.

You were trying to help while also keeping the egg bois under control, not realizing you were distracting him.

"Will you please stop already! You're supposed to be watching them, but you're just as annoying!!"

You had tears in your eyes as soon as you turned around.

"Fine!" You yelled before running off.

"That wasn't very nice, boss. You should apologize."

When Pentious saw you, you were sitting on the couch by the TV with Charlie hugging you.

"Y/N, may I speak with you? I would like to apologize."

You silently nodded, standing up next to him.

"I'm sorry, my dearest, can you ever forgive me?"

"As long as you promise to tell me what's wrong and how to properly help in the future."

He pulled you into a hug and wrapped his tail around you.

Husker

The bar was open way later than usual because Charlie decided to have an open house for the hotel.

Free drinks were pretty much a necessity when you're trying to lure in sinners.

Husk seemed fine/ his usual brand of grumpy.... Until he saw you talking and laughing with some guy and pulled you into an empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that? Did you really think I would be too busy to see you flirting like a whore?"

Even with tears in your eyes, you could tell he's been drinking vodka straight.

You pushed him away from you.

"That's my cousin, you asshole! He was asking me about the hotel."

You ran away, going right to the room you shared with Husk and trying to go to sleep.

Husk spent the rest of the party drinking water and eating a few snacks to fight the future hangover.

When you woke up, Husk had his wings and arms wrapped around you. He didn't even bother trying to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I was such an idiot and I hurt the best person who's ever been in my life. I freaked out about seeing you with someone else..... because I know I don't deserve you, and I don't want to lose you."

He was crying into your shoulder, and you pulled him into a hug.

"You couldn't lose me if you wanted to. Just remember, I love you more than anything, and I'd rather die again than lose you.

(A/N : This sucks ass and I'm sorry this took me so long. I hope you like it, though. )

Requests open

[huellitaa]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨ feeling uncomfy in ur own skin

ok so this is something ive been struggling with for years. like i wake up some days and just feel Eugh way more than id like to. SO i decided i'd make a little guide on this! for me and for you 🩷✨

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 reasons why we could be feeling uncomfortable with ourselves and who we are

♡ having a shitty mental diet and consuming media and things that make you feel bad abt urself

♡ being in an environment where we're constantly being judged or put down, even over the most basic things

♡ hanging around negative people or negative places

♡ not giving urself enough credit for ur own achievements and accomplishments

♡ changing urself constantly for others and not having a clear sense of self to hold on to

♡ not having boundaries on how you and others treat you

♡ staying stagnant in the same place in your life and not changing (🎀🗒️also read: get comfy being uncomfy ♡)

♡ not paying enough attention to yourself and avoiding your genuine thoughts, feelings and emotions

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. be gentle with yourself!

pleasepleaseplease its ok to have bad days its ok to not feel great every day. treat yourself as you would someone you love. if you just aren't feeling good today, then you aren't feeling good! honour that and respect that and deal with that accordingly. even if you are uncomfortable with yourself right now or you don't like yourself right now, please try and treat yourself with care regardless, because no matter what stage you are in in your life right now you are and always will be the most important person in ur life, so TREAT URSELF LIKE IT🫶💖

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. inspiration, not comparison!

i know its often told not to go looking at people who are ahead of you in these times but hear me out. i think looking at and observing people you admire who are further ahead of you is very motivating to build yourself up and *become more like them* in your own way. you look up to them because of ___? what can you do to become your own version of that? thinking like this gets me more inspired to just get out of bed because i want to be more like them.

two words for this one - NO. COMPARISON. gaining inspiration from others to better yourself and comparing yourself to others are two completely different things. 🫶 (shameless self promo, but i have a post on this here! 🩷✨)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. analysis: detective work chapter!

journal and think and think to urself why u might feel like this or what caused this. when did it start? has anything happened lately that may have caused this? how does it feel, in depth? what can you do to combat this? how can you make it through the day & make it so you do even better tomorrow?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. channeling the mindset!

back to my point on our idols, thinking like them & thinking what they'd do in this situation helps me a lot. personally one of my idols is ada lovelace so whenever im really tired and unmotivated or insecure on my abilities or appearance or anything else i think to myself "what would she do?" and 9 times out of 10 im up at my desk in my cutest outfit hard at work. this is def one of my favourite points and something i use on the daily for like literally everything and 100% recommend 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. what would i do?

similarly, ask urself what the best version of yourself or the version of urself youre working towards would do in this situation. be your own inspiration. be ur own muse. would they stay in bed and rot all day? if the answer is no then ur up. out. immediately. ask urself what they would do. if ur feeling drained, would they take a day off to do some self care and recharge? if ur feeling sad, would they be gentle with themselves and let themselves feel sad for a little while & try to work to the root of the problem?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. understanding yourself!

make a list of the things that make you the happiest and most comfortable & productive and the things that make you the unhappiest and the opposite of those things. i mentioned this in my recharge day post, but figuring out these will help you find out which negative behaviours or habits are lowering ur vibrations and making u feel like this, and help u to engage more in the things that make you happy with yourself and everything around you 💗✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. pay attention!

pay close attention to ur internal landscape and your self talk throughout the day. note down every little thing you notice, even if you think it won't be helpful; for example, do you find yourself indulging in negative talk abt urself, negative talk abt others, constantly being pessimistic and expecting the worst, indulging in judgement and criticism of urself and everyone around you, getting distracted easily, and so on.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. what would i do, part 2

like i mentioned earlier, you should be your own inspiration. you should be your own muse. as much as it's nice to have idols, when ur trying to change something about urself and adjust and improve ur own behaviours, you should be mainly focusing on what you want to achieve by changing said behaviours. do you know who you're working towards being? do you know how you want to feel? do you know what you are changing these things you feel into? think about whether or not the person you are now lines up with the person you want to be in all aspects of ur life. if you feel like you aren't even trying to meet these standards then of course ur gonna feel bad about urself. of course don't be too hard on urself, but keep this in mind. 💓✨

finally, remember that these things are temporary and it wont be like this forever. ur beautiful and perfect no matter what and in these times u gotta show up for yourself even more and never give up! i believe in u 🫶🩷

all my love 💗💬✨🎀

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

[factual-fantasy]

TUNA I'VE FAILED YOU OH YOU DELICIOUS PIECE OF MY HEART HOW'VE YOU BEEN MY DEAREST PUREST LITTLE GUY??!??

Since the last post you made about him I've been wanting to ScReAM my love for him but I never had the time and the energy at the same time! D: until now >:]

BECAUSE WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS?!

THE SMILE! THE FONDNESS! THE "I KNOW IM LOVED" THAT THIS DRAWING SCREAMS IS MAKING ME SO INSANE I LOVE SO MUCH HERE

Now, continuing to be an acceptable member of the Tuna Lover society.

TUNA YOU'RE THE ABSOLUTE BEST THING EVER.

Hold yourself because I have 0 self control when it comes to ramble about my specialist little guy and I'm afraid I wrote quite a lot.

Tuna looks like he is so tired. Look at him! His whole body language is screaming "I'm so tired but i dont really think sleep cluld help me". What did this rascal do that he's so tired? I wonder, but for some reason he looks more like being emotionally tired than anything. Poor bean! Did he had a rough week? A bad day? Is he feeling down? Maybe he's just tired for no specific reason, it happens sometimes. I wish I could cup him in my hands and pat his head softly as I rock him to sleep because he's so my baby :'[ <3

Ellie oh you heart of gold woman how lucky is the crew you're a part of it! Like seriously. She looked at this sad teen and said: not under my watch young boy. And went to cook his fauvorite rolls??!? She's so grannie coded I need her in my daily life you have no clue (oh no I got nostalgyc-). She's trying to hype him up and she's not just silently sliding the rolls under his hands. She's actually talking with him and something about physical contact. WAIT. IS THAT IT? IS TUNA SO VERY TOUCH STARVED THAT THIS IS HIS REACTION? OOOUGH MY HEART CANT HANDLE IT. I'll follow this train of thought later. (🚂)

Like. She's so gentle, so careful, so... She's really making sure she does all she can to lift up the spirits of that young man!

Because the way he's looking at her... the fondness.. the care and gratefulness????? Oh dear momma fish I'm dying. He's looking at her so sweetly! So gratefull! He's screaming "thanks for being a part of my life" without his mouth. He's screaming "I am so gratefull you love me" with his only one eye and I'm so down for it. I need more of them. They warm my fish heart so much... She's the grannie he never asked for bur always needed! Y'know? He's capable of looking at someone like that after all he's gone through and if that doesn't make me want to cry I don't know what does. Because that's just... OUGH I CANT WITH THEM HE HAS SUCH A TRAGYC BACKSTORY AND FEELS LIKE NO ONE LIKES HIM AND THEN THIS OLD LADY IS LIKE: YEAH, ILL BAKE HIM SONETHING SO HE CHEERS UP??!??! I NEED THEM HUGGING I NEED THEM BONDING I NEED THEM BEING A MEANACE TOGERHER BECAUSE OHMYGOD WHAT I WOULDNT GIVE TO SEE THIS TWO BEING LIKE THIS EVERYDAY.

A tiny part of me kinda wants to see one of them hurted really bad and the other protecting, but the other part of me is terrified of the mental implications it would have. Especially if it's ellie the one hurted. Oh no, no, let's end that thought there for my own sake 🫠

BECAUSE ELLIE IS JUST... SHE JUST BAKES HIM HIS FAUVORITR, I REPEAT, FAVOURITE THINGS WITHOUT HIM ASKING FOR IT.

Ok, returning with that train of thought (🚂)... I probably have alredy rambled about this before, but... When was the last time someone hold this guy gently? I mean, not even hold, but just... touch him without meaning harm? Or more precisely, when was the last time someone touched him with care? With fondness? With the intention to lift his spirit? To make him smile, at least a little tiny eety beety winesy bit?

She puts hers hand on his shoulder and he jumps, freezing with his mouth full of delicious food. It's her. Of course it's her, they were chatting alone in the kitchen, although it felt more a monologue as Ellie cooked than an actual conversation. He was too in his mind to really listen. The sudden contact was what made him blink with his only eye, staring at the caring old eyes of the lady at his right. It was nice. Warm and rough hands squeezed his arm softly, fully aware that she had startled him. She looked at him with a fond smile and placed the fresh rolls in front of him. "There, you better enjoy them boy!" She may or may not say. Thing is, his eye goes to the hot, delicious food, and then he realizes. The hand is still there. Gentle. Almost can't feel it. It's. Why? It's strange. It should hurt. But it didn't. Of course it made sense, but why? Of course it didn't! It was Ellie! And then the realization hits. All in a matter of seconds. Ellie would never lay a harming hand on him. And he felt... He felt.

"You can't eat literally with your eyes, you do know that, do you?" He forgot he was eating. He smiled. And seeing that smile made her smile too. After all, how couldn't she? That wasn't something she saw everyday! Much less in such a sincere way! He was just... smiling at her. Oh she felt so happy! "I'm glad you like those! If you want more just tell me!" Oh wasn't he in the verge of tears? Happy tears! Him! Oh. The realization hitted like a truck. (Or like a ship? What's the equivalent? Idk, like a punch of Louis if you please.) He was cared for. He was loved. There were hands in this world that weren't meant to harm him. He just smiled, fondness burning in his chest like a wildfire because how this woman can change a man via kindness/food.

What is so crazy is that maybe he's just staring lovingly at the lady that cares for him. Because he feels like he's a rock on the boots of the crew most of the time but he's good at what he does so they bare with him. Maybe he feels they don't want him around but... but this lady does. And isn't he gratefull for it? Isn't he so happy she's around? She touches his only arm in such a gentle way? The other won't feel kindness never again, did it ever felt it? Not punches, not grabs, no, just... placing her hand there. Like he isn't an animal with the rabbies but actually a just really fucked up little guy who is terrified of people because people gave him reasons to and barks and bites but is, at the end, very lonely and afraid because he pushed everyone away. Except for this lady. He tried. He bited and barked until he realized she doesn't care, that she alredy saw the scared guy he was and didn't cared. She didn't cared. She cared so much more than anyone that she didn't cared! She wasn't afraid! She wasn't going away! If anything, she sitted closer as time passed. And suddenly, a pet on the head. A so waited, so dreamed, so strange, so scary! Pat on the head. Gentle. Not like those who grabbed him to calm him down and only made him bark and bite with more energy. No. Gentle. It was new. It was nice. But he was afraid. Afraid. How long until she hits? He thinks. But she never hits. She brings him treats. Suspicious. But... not so... Why? It's just that he isn't used to see someone care. But she cares. And she doesn't goes away. And she doesn't turn her back. If anything, only to take the rolls out of the oven!

He doesn't thinks all that in the moment. He just wants. Oh. That felt nice. But was kinda unexpected. It's later at night that he thinks, if his three neurons decide to work. Mayne this is how his complex being feels but his tint neurons don't know how to think. He just loves and cares about the lovely woman that cares and loves back. I need more of them. They mean everything to me at this point factual I'm descending to madness.

AWROROOGOOGGHHHHGGGGG YOUR LOVE FOR TUNA FUELS MY SOULLL!!!! 😭😭THSNKYIUUUUU!!!😭😭💞💞💞💞

[ollycohens]

oh no you guys. i’m going to spew things i’ve realized while rewatching umbrella academy. I’m realizing were all being too sucked into fanon things after being stuck without canon content for so long. We have convinced ourselves Five acts like a mean mean dude to everyone but rewatching, i’ve realized he’s only stressed and is saying things out of panicked anger, especially in s1 with the apocalypse dooming over them. he acts soft to his siblings multiple times, he’s really not as mean as we write him in fanfiction. he is a little crap though, that’s for sure, and i love him for that <3

also realizing that the siblings don’t hate five. they just literally don’t know him at all. he came back a completely different person after 17 years for the siblings, they don’t know five, he’s a stranger so of course they’re gonna be cold to him. it’s like, “i don’t know you well, but you’re always going to be my brother in the end”.

ALSO. for those who ship some of the siblings, uhm… i’ve seen a lot of you guys try to prove that they don’t see eachother as siblings and more like academy students, but they very much say in just about every episode that they see eachother as siblings. they don’t actually SAY that word by word but they say things like “she’s our sister”, or “our dad”. if they say OUR dad… bro. i’m not even going to continue, you can put it together yourself. But, i do realize why people ship the siblings. I am not defending incest shippers but with umbrella academy i can see why people have resorted to it. only 3 of the characters in the main sibling cast has romantic partners. people like shipping people, people love writing romantic relationships, but with only diego/lila, dave/klaus, and sissy/viktor, (i’m not going to count five/dolores for now) people are desperate with the need to ship the rest of the siblings with someone, and since there are only a few actual canon characters in the show that interact with our main 7, people start shipping them together… yikes. anywho, that’s all for that peice. i blame the show writers as well for shipping luther/allison, they did not have to do that, but i’m hoping it was only to convey the severity of what childhood trauma does to people.

ALSO THIS HERE SHOOK ME. I actually think Reginald cares for the siblings. i hate to say it, but it’s true. caring for them does not mean being good, though. he was a horrible father, and person, but he genuinely did care for the siblings, in a like, “being the best is the best thing for you, i will make you better, for your sake, even if you don’t know it now, you will see that i am right” kind of way.

also why has NOBODY MENTIONED THIS. in season 2 when diego first reunites with five in the asylum, while he’s walking into the visitors room, he’s staring at five with this heartfelt, soft look, and then says “five…” in the most soft spoken voice ever 😭 your honor i love them

ALSO UGHHH THIS. IM GOING TO FREAK OUT ABOUT CAMERAWORK AND METAPHORS HERE SO BARE WITH ME. we as a fandom complain about the lack of flashbacks five has due to his ptsd. we’ve seen his first flashback since getting back to his family in s1 during the van scene when he gets triggered by those kids playing and starts thinking about his own childhood, i’m guessing. i ate that scene up, and was sad to see that be one of the only deeply vulnerable scenes he has in the season, and during my first watch i thought they’d never bring it back up. but they do!! i may be stupid for not realizing but whatever. in season 2, when five is trying to explain at elliot’s with all his siblings around that another apocalypse is coming, everyone starts talking about each other. as someone who studies film and camerawork, i love this scene. we see the camera focus on five as it slowly zooms in. it doesn’t switch scenes at all as the siblings voices overlap and echo over eachother. this whole scene conveys him getting overwhelmed and he starts to zone out, starting to think of the nuclear war he saw his siblings in. the scenes of the war start quickly switching through, showing many different scenes of it before it switches back to five, who says “guys, you all die. i want to forget it but i can’t” which just UGH its so well done there. if you think about it, he was starting to slip into another flashback. he was triggered by talking about their deaths in the war but was handling it well until the siblings started fighting, where we see the overlapping voices happen. it portrays him losing control and being unable to pull it back together with too much going on for him to focus on grounding himself. we DO however, see that five was able to pull himself out before he fell too deep into the flashback. i love how they show this through them still having the scene showing the war, but then fives voice starts talking over the scene which is still focusing on the war as if he was pushing it back and forcing himself to come back to the present.

thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far, i will continue to freak out another time <3