#'and if not there's always substance abuse'

[sultrydxrling]

(DRAGON HYBRID X READER

ORC COUPLE X READER

ONLY HUMAN/ MONSTER WORLD/ STRAY HUMAN/NEIGHBORHOOD SLUT/MULTIPLE MONSTER/ KNOTTING/STALKER)

Monday.

Monday was spaghetti night at the Fairfield household. You approached the door and rapped softly against the wood, and a dog barked behind it. This made you smile as your mind wandered into the void.

You thought about the past week and all the dinners you would be attending, grateful for the warm welcome from everyone you met. Recently, you moved into a lovely suburban neighborhood, and many of your neighbors, including the Fairfields, have offered to help you settle in and get involved with the community.

Mrs Fairfield opened the door, her emerald skin glowing radiently with her tusked smile,

"Hello! (Y/n), right?"

You smiled because she remembered your name and nodded,

"Yes, ma'am."

You beamed as her husband walked up behind her and rested his arm around her waist, a hand on her hip, "We're glad you could make it!"

He was only half a foot taller than his wife, his black hair pulled back into a small half-ponytail hairstyle. He has a beard that stayed along the edges of his chin, refusing to grow anywhere else, but it looked wonderful along his jawline. The larger orc gently pulled his wife a few steps back as they gestured for you to come in.

"Come on in, the dining room is this way,"

Mrs. Fairfield said, leading the way through their home. As you walked with her, you took in your surroundings. The living room felt warm and inviting, with flower-patterned couches in front of the fireplace and a simple grey rug underneath them.

Candles were scattered throughout the room, accompanied by charming little antiques on the mantel. The kitchen featured a Southern rooster theme that brightened your mood and created a comforting atmosphere.

Mr. Fairfield sat at one end of a large table, which was proportionate for the happy couple despite their stature.

You found your place at a seat in the middle of the long side of the table that you almost had to climb into because of its height. Mrs. Fairfield snickered as she watched you and slipped on her oven mitts. She carefully pulled dinner out of the oven.

"Thank you for inviting me over, Mrs.-",

You watched as she leaned over, getting a slight glimpse of her pantyhose, almost up to her panties themselves underneath her dress as she leaned over. This made your face flush a deep red, almost as red as her thick hair that curled beautifully. A few of her curls escaped from her lovely-looking bun.

“Oh please, call me Jen!”

She beamed as she set the dish on the table. Upon further inspection, there was a crispy-looking substance on top, and you were pleased to smell parmesan cheese.

"This is my famous baked spaghetti! I topped it with parmesan and homemade croutons!",

Her excitement made you smile, and you patiently waited to be served or to serve yourself - whichever came first. She handed you a pair of tongs, and you twisted the tongs around in the spaghetti, carefully maneuvering some of them onto your plate.

"Do you have any extra of those croutons?",

You looked up at her curiously.

"Oh? Of the homemade, unfortunately not. But I do always keep a bag!"

She walked over to a door that opened into her pantry and snagged a brightly colored bag of 'Texas croutons' off of one of the white shelves.

She placed the bag next to you to allow you to help yourself, and you did. As you ate, the whole table traded stories about where they grew up, things they enjoyed as kids, and how you could be the only human.

You explained that you were just found on the side of the street, blood was around, so maybe your parents had been hurt, but you weren't sure. You were taken in by a lovely dragon couple and raised alongside the rest of the monster society.

You were bullied by some kids and adored by others; it was a normal childhood. Mr Fairfield or Mark, as he'd introduced himself to you soon after Jen did, talked about his childhood and past with abuse from his family, but good friends.

Jen stood and poured herself and her husband a glass of wine,

"Would you like some, darling?"

It was almost impossible to tell her no as her eyes fell on mine.

"Yes please..",

You smiled.

She filled your glass, and over the next couple of hours, the talking continued, as did your drinking.

You all moved to the living room and found yourself leaning all over the couple, and you apologized profusely when you noticed how bad you'd gotten about keeping yourself up.

They brushed away your apologies and welcomed your comfort. You felt a heat growing between your legs, Jen was so pretty in this blurry lighting, her dress cupped her breasts just right, and it drove you crazy.

"Eccuse me Mrs.. Jen."

You slurred softly.

"Your- uhm. Your chest is very nice.."

A hot blush coated your face, and you hid your face in Mark's lap. He groaned softly because you'd nuzzled right up against his arousal.

You sat up and curled into yourself. Jen snickered and unbuttoned the front of her dress, her lacey bra peeking out from beneath the fabric, black lace accentuating the beautiful emerald of her skin. You worked your way into her lap and kissed them sweetly.

"There you go, sweetheart."

She stroked your head with her large hand and moved both of her hands to your nice shirt, ripping it slowly down the middle trying to unbutton it, but you didn't mind very much, she was so gentle and strong.

Her husband unzipped his jeans, freeing himself from the prison that had held his throbbing length. His face flushed a darker green, and he apologized for his size, yough me must've been at least 9 inches.

You crawled over to him and took it eagerly into your hands. Seeing how small they were around him, he throbbed in your hands. You licked at his tip softly, arching your back on your hands and knees.

Jen tried to gently work you out of your jeans, tearing them in a few places but managing to work them off. She gently rubbed a large finger between your legs at your genitals, a soft moan escaping your lips as the heat of her finger made contact with you.

You took the bright pink tip into your mouth as much as you could fit, happily sucking. You rubbed with both hands and moved your hips against Jen's finger excitedly.

You slipped out of your underwear carefully climbed onto Mark's lap, and lowered yourself onto his now well-lubricated tip.

He said it was 'Small,' but it took all your strength to fit it inside your tight hole, stretching you around its girth.

Jen undressed fully, smiling at you as she leaned back against the opposite end of the couch. She watched the two of you and began to rub herself, she was so wet that you could hear it from where you sat.

Mark held tightly onto your hips and began to lose control of himself, almost using you like a handheld toy. Your mind swam with dirtier and dirtier thoughts as they used you to please themselves.

You imagined becoming their prized pet and them inviting you over more regularly, turning you into the perfect toy for them.

The Orc beneath you grew inside of you as he came close to finishing, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his tip rammed into your cervix.

"God, Yes! Please ruin me!",

You cried out and they did just that, they spent hours passing you between the two of them. They always took care of you and made sure you came, and after, you got to see their beautiful shower.

The stone wall made the whole shower almost look like a waterfall or a rainforest. Jen put her hair up and helped you clean yourself in the shower.

Once you were clean, she washed your clothes and helped you into them, and soon after drove you home.

They bid you good night and sent you off with plenty of kisses, leaving you breathless. They watched you unlock and enter your door, protecting you, their sweet toy.

You fumbled your way to bed and stripped naked, feeling your soft silk sheets against your skin. The wind blew into your room, causing your sheer curtains to flow lightly in the moonlight. You smiled at the lovely breeze that greeted your skin on the warm summer evening and snuggled into your pillow.

Your relaxing was interrupted by a sound outside of your window, like movement in the mulch of your bushes. You, however, opened your eyes to see nothing had changed and laid back down, soon after drifting off to sleep.

Tuesday.

You awoke to your alarm and you saw something in your window, but it was gone when you blinked.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes pushed yourself out of bed, and walked over to your calendar to see which it would be for dinner.

The abriviation you'd written down was, Ero-Drag, which was Eragon, the Dragon.

He was a large, but polite creature. His scales showed a dark red, deep auburn reflected by the sun. The spikes around his ruff and along his back and tail were an even deeper red color, almost black.

When you'd met him, he'd very carefully taken one of your hands into his claws and brought it to his maw. As Eragon carefully kissed your hand, his hot breath and a little smoke brushed against your skin.

He decorated his claws with a few gold rings, and he wore a nice pair of black slacks and a black dress shirt with a purple vest. The royal purple was accentuated by the small, shining designs along the fabric.

He was very kind and charming and had brought smoked ham to the potluck.

You didn't eat very much, but you'd grabbed a small bite of everything and complimented his cooking.

He thanked you with a soft rumble in his throat and asked if you were free at some point during the week, and told him Tuesday was good.

He said he wanted to take you shopping first, which was sweet. You figured it was a part of his dragon tendencies to enjoy nice things, so it didn't seem too out of place.

He'd given you his number, so you gave it a ring.

He picked up instantly, his gruff voice slipping through the speaker.

"Hello? Who's this?"

You told him your name and asked if there would be a dress code for the shopping trip, to which he replied to be casual nice, to mean a dress or a button-up shirt, etc.

You smiled and decided to throw on a simple outfit, but it was nice like he'd requested.

(Outfit is optional based on reader preference)

He sent you a text and you opened your phone.

"Hey, I'll be coming to pick you up in thirty minutes. Is that enough time for you to get ready? Im taking you to breakfast. You should eat to start our day even if it's something small."

You gathered your things and sat on your couch.

"Im ready now, but take your time. I wouldn't mind breakfast :)."

"Alright, then i suppose I'll be on my way then. See you soon."

You smiled at this and sent him your address and decided to sit on your front porch swing.

After about ten minutes, Eragon pulled up to the sidewalk in a black, low-riding car. He slipped out of the driver seat and the car raised slightly from the lack of his weight.

He was just as charming as the day you saw him, but today, he wore a tight, charcoal grey turtle neck with a long black trenchcoat draped over his shoulders. Shining gold buttons laced the edges, and the cuffs folded over with gold cufflinks to hold them together.

His black dress pants gently squeezed his thighs in a way that made you almost instantly aroused.

Eragon opened the passenger door and smiled at you, his fangs showing slightly.

"You look good, here get in. I'll get the door for you."

"Thank you"

You slipped into the passenger seat and reveled in his red leather interior. Some of the paneling was black faux wood with small gold ribbons flowing through it.

He took you to a nice breakfast place, "Sandy's dine in". The waitress seated the two of you in a booth,, then left you with your menus. you picked out a meal with two pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

Eragon looked up at you, his elbows braced on the table, and his hands casped together under his chin.

"What exactly brought you to this area?"

"Just trying to start over. Humans also aren't very kind. Where I used to live, it was a very predominantly human populated area. There were different creatures few and far between. However, I've found myself more comfortable around hybrids or just non humans in general."

He smiled at you and nodded in 'fair' agreement.

"I understand the sentimant. It's nice to be around new things. That's why you've inspired me to try something new!"

He laughed softly and announced to me in his gruff voice.

"I'm going to try the Cali club."

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was supposed to be new, but then you remembered different creatures like having different diets as well.

"What do you usually eat?"

"Mostly just meat. Not that I can't have anything with vegetables in it, I just usually don't feel like it if I don't have to."

"Well, I'm glad you get to try something new. Even if it's not very new to me."

He smiled proudly, and once the waitress came by, you both put in your orders. She came back with them and your decided drinks.

The dragon gently stared at his sandwich and poked at the tomatoes with one of his claws. This made you smile and slipped the tomatoes off.

"You'll like it better without these. Less wet."

You laughed, and he tried the sandwich hesitantly, a soft crunch beneath his teeth as he bit into it.

"Wow."

He said with a mouth full.

"This is super new.. but it's nice and kind of fresh. I prefer more meat, but it's nice."

"We'll do a burger place next time."

You giggled and cut into your food after spilling syrup over your pancakes.

"Next time?"

His eyes lit up, and you looked up to meet the gleaming yellow.

"Of course. I'd love to go out again."

You both finished up your meals, and he politely helped you into the car, opening the door again.

The day was spent walking around nicer clothing stores and him doting on you. Eragon told you to let him know if you wanted something—anything. Moving from store to store, you would look at something you might like, then cringe at the price tag if it was anything over fifty dollars. As the dragon noticed this, he slowly began grabbing the things you would look at, if they were clothes, he would politely order you to try them on.

You and he would look at the different clothes and both of you would give your opinions on how they fit and looked. And if it wasn't clothes it was cute things like stuffed animals or blankets, maybe even cute little trinkets.

The dragon playfully scolded you for checking the price tags and would swat your hand away if you tried to turn even one.

"Do you like it?"

He asked, looking down at you with a smile.

"Yes.."

You answered, though relatively hesitantly.

When he was ready to drive you back to his home, you had several bags full of wonderful clothes and perfumes. He finally turned down a gravel road, the stones looked like obsidian and the occasional geodes.

Once he pulled into a circular driveway and stopped the car, he gestured for you to stay inside. You examined the house through your window. It was relatively large and appeared to have both an attic and a basement. The exterior walls were made of dark stone, resembling a marbled black color. The home looked both cozy and elegant, with the door displaying a rich dark oak hue, accented by hints of red in the sunlight.

"I'll get the door for you, dear."

Eragon stepped out of the car, opened your passenger door, and stepped back, offering his paw.

You slipped your hand into his grasp, lightly reveling in the strength in them. Your mind wandered to other, more inappropriate places. The way his claws might lightly dig into your sensitive flesh.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, I was just thinking."

"What about?"

He smirked, his canine teeth showing.

"Nothing, just off in space, I guess."

He smiled slightly as he led you to his front door, then opened it for you to let you walk in. The interior was nice and very warm. There was a fire burning, and there looked to be herbs that were tossed in the fire as well.

Due to this, the living room smelled like sage, and you smelled something else, then turned to see a large sage incense stick, held upright on a small altar.

To the left of the front door was a small mudroom with a rack full of Eragon's other pairs of shoes.

"Do I take off my shoes?"

You gestured at the room.

"Yes, please."

As he followed behind you, he gently held your hip, only to move you to the side carefully.

He removed his shoes and you followed suit, placing your shoes gently on the ground in front of the rack. You noticed how big his shoes were compared to yours, and curiously leaned foward to look at one of his shoe souls.

'Size 16' read in a small circle. Your mouth hung slightly agape in shock.

"Alright, the dining room is this way. I think i can smell dinner cooking so it should be ready soon."

You nodded, and he led you through a hallway on the opposite wall of the mudroom, taking a right turn a foot past the fireplace.

The hallway was short, walking into a larger dining room, and like the Orc family's house, the table was bigger than what was meant for you.

"I found a chair that would help you accommodate for the small height difference."

He gestured to a chair to the left of the end of the table. You assumed the one at the end was his, and your eyes fell onto your chair.

The decor matched the other chairs, featuring dark wood and red cushioning. The designs on the seats mirrored his vest, showcasing intricate swirls in the fabric.

The only difference was a small step on the left-hand side of the chair that protruded only a few inches out.

You smiled and thanked him quietly for the accommodation. He gently held onto the right side of the chair, trying to provide balance as you climbed into the large seat.

Once you sat down and were settled, he leaned forward close to your face, and a toothy smile greeted you.

"I'll be back soon. If dinner is served before I return, feel free to eat. I'm going to freshen up, and if you need it, the bathroom is just there, down that halway."

He pointed to a hallway along the left wall.

The dragon walked back through the living room and up the stairs to what you assumed was his room.

Food was served, and a plate was set in front of you by an older woman wearing a nice, black button-up shirt with an apron draped over it.

It was a larger plate, a decent amount of sliced, grilled fajita meat was lain on the left side, and mashed potatoes sat near the top of the plate.

The last thing on the plate was green beans, clearly fresh. You could see the seasonings mixed into everything and the heavenly smell filled your sinuses.

You couldn't help but steal a few bites while you waited for the other to return, and within the following five minutes, he had.

"I hope it's alright. I'm not sure how to mix meals very well. All I eat is the meat usually, as i explained earlier at breakfast. I know we just ate. But i stay hungry. You can choose to eat or not. it's up to you."

He laughed softly and took his seat, his plate unsurprisingly just covered with thicker slices of the fajita meat. Some of them looked undercooked, but that was likely how he enjoyed it.

"No, I dont mind at all."

You stated politely. The diner moved along and as he ran through his plate within a few forkfuls, you began to discuss our interests.

Eragon talked about his welding company, though he didn't look to be the labor-working type.

"Do you work there too or just work on paperwork and finances?"

"Oh no, I work too. Helps me keep up my build and feel energized."

You thought about his strength and decided this made sense. Your mind once more wandered to more sinister things, for instance, his hand slipping under the table.

You were snapped out of your daze when he asked you a question.

"Would you like a glass?"

"Hm? Of what?"

"Whisky.."

He smiled and raised his glass curiously as if he'd been talking about it for a couple of minutes. But your mind was far too busy.

"Yes, please."

He nodded and poured you some from a gorgeous bottle, the neck very long and the basin very only round.

"I was wondering if you'd take.. some pictures for me. I'm testing out a new art form, and we'll, you look like the perfect inspiration. If you don't mind me saying so, of course."

"Oh well.. I wouldn't mind helping you with art."

The question sounded very odd, but considering you were imagining him doing things to you anyway, it was very welcomed.

"Good. Thank you. After we finish our whisky, we'll get started."

The two of you talked and both sipped your whisky slowly. You were slightly buzzed once your glass was empty and he stood, offering you his hand.

"Come, my dear. I'll lead you to my room. There's a room just off of it spasifically for my photography."

You nodded, and once you entered his room, there was a huge, California king-sized bed against the right wall, facing out into the room.

It was a black wooden canopy bed and a thick, black, velvet curtain surrounded the frame, draping itself onto the floor.

There were other various furniture pieces that matched the bed and its bedding color, which was a royal red with golden embroidery. Seemed to fit the theme.

Eragon took you into an offset room through a door to the left, and it was mostly empty apart from a stool, a set of photographer-esque lights, and a black backdrop.

There was a small table with a black velvet wrap of rope resting on top of it.

In the far corner was a metal pot of something glowing brightly. It looked like lava, reflecting its goldfish hue onto the black walls.

"The art I practice is the art of Shibari-. It's an ancient Japanese art of rope bondage that stemmed from martial arts. I will wrap the rope around your body into many knots and designs that complement your natural curves."

You smiled as you looked around and decided this seemed fun.

"Well.. is there anything I have to wear? Like a special outfit or...?"

"If you choose, you may wear nothing at all, but I'm sure I have something lying around if you prefer not to."

You excitedly took this offer and looked toward his bedroom.

"Do you want me to undress in there or here?"

You gestured to his room, just to make sure he saw.

"Whatever makes you more comfortable."

God, you wanted to tear into him. His politeness was so attractive. You chose to, hopefully, tease him a little by undressing in the other room. You'd hoped he wanted you just as much as you needed to feel him.

You slipped into Eragon's bedroom and undressed yourself, excitedly folding the clothing and setting it on his bed.

Once you were naked, you peeked around the door frame into the other room, blushing slightly.

"Haha, awe. Don't be bashful, I've seen many beautiful bodies. And if I may say so, I've been excited to see you since you went into my room to change."

You stepped into the room, covering yourself a little before trying to relax and taking a deep breath.

"Wow, you -"

He paused as he studied your body and braced his elbows on his knees, paws almost clasped together in prayer.

"You're astounding…"

Your face turned a deeper red, and you walked over to him slowly."

"So what do i do?"

"Just stand in those lights, I'm going to wrap the rope around you. Just tell me if it gets uncomfortable, alright?"

"Mhm."

You answered softly and stood with your legs slightly spread and your arms relaxed at your side.

He spent hours, delicately tying knots and wrapping you in the rope.

There were knots few and far between in random spots over your body, all managing to cross comfortably over your skin to hold you carefully.

The knots and rope lines created many different shapes around your body, a small circle created over your stomach and around the separate sides of your chest.

Eragon attached a hooked rope to a pulley and used it to pull you into the air, and he wrapped and tied the rope to a metal attachment on the wall.

You hung above the ground, watching him connect the rope strands to hooks on the ceiling, then tying more and more knots.

Once the shape came together, the red ropes looked like wings, erupting from your back and holding you in the air.

"Alright.."

He climbed down from his small steps tool after finishing the last knot, then stepped back, Inspecting his work and your body, which he greatly admired.

The dragon walked to the corner of the room where the melting pot rested and scooped a small handful out of the most definitely over-boiling temperature liquid.

He didn't even wince as he walked over to you and dipped one of his claws in the glowing liquid.

"I warn you this might hurt, but it's a part of the heart."

He used his claws to trace the burning hot, liquid gold across your skin.

It was a simple, small circle just under your left collarbone, but the pain seared deeply into your flesh. You screamed and tears welled in your eyes.

Once he was finished, he cooed softly.

"Sh..shh.. it's alright. It's almost finished. Just a little bit more."

He gently licked over the circle, his saliva giving a numbing on the new, golden wound.

He began dripping the melting gold over the road, and of course, small droplets dripped down the rope and onto your skin.

The little spots were beating with pain, but your arousal grew. Heat spread from your wounds and worked its way between your legs.

Every time a drip connected, he softly separated it slightly from the rope so the rope wouldn't stick to you when he took it off.

The gold that was now dripping off of you would not. Eragon poured the gold back into the pot like water gently peeled the other bits off his paw and claw, like dried glue, and walked back over to you.

He gently wiped the tears from your face. His scales and paw padding were almost uncomfortably warm as he did.

You leaned into the touch and watched as he grabbed his camera and adjusted the lights with his free hand.

"Beautiful.. look down to your right for me.. make a face that shows absence.. as if you've just lost something greatly important to you."

You followed his instructions, and for about thirty minutes, he began taking you down from your bindings. The gold, by this time, had healed and reflected off your skin in the bright camera lights.

Eragon took you into his arms and slipped a hand to your hip, holding you closely to himself.

"I'd like to be more intimate with you. Honestly, you're one of the most attractive creatures I've ever seen.. and I'd like to taste you."

He looked into your eyes and tilted his head toward you as if offering to let you move in for a kiss, to which you happily obliged.

The two of you kissed softly, then gradually more passionately until he picked you up bridal style and carried you into his room.

Eragon carefully laid you down and began to undress, carefully unbuttoning his shirt and then his pants.

The dragon was hard in his boxers, his length resting along his upper thigh. You crawled over to him on the bed and moved his hands away, happy to help him free himself.

You slipped his underwear down his thighs and his cock hung, tilted towards you. From base to tip, his cock was a gradient of red, then darkened at his tip, which accentuated the small amount of precum that leaked out of his length with anticipation.

You carefully took his cock into your hands and smiled as you leaned down to kiss it, up and down. Eragon groaned softly, resting his giant paw along the back of your head, and with his free hand, steadied himself with the arm of the bed frame.

You pulled away and rested your tongue against the sharp-looking tip of his length. He gasped softly at the sensation and his cock flexed, picking the head up off your tongue slightly then back down with a soft -plap-.

You giggled and took the tip into your mouth and began to suck, moving your head back and forth just enough to suck the whole head into your mouth.

"God, your mouth feels so good…"

The dragon lightly dug his claws into your scalp and began to thrust into your mouth gently. You braced yourself up by placing your hands on his hips.

You pushed your head forward, allowing more of him into your mouth, the arousal between your legs growing, and causing you to squirm slightly as you tried to please Eragon.

He watched you and gently laid you back into the mattress, then slipped his arms under your legs to place them on his shoulders.

Eragon smiled up at you, and his eyes glowed a bright yellow as he pressed his long, split tongue to your entrance. He teased you by using his split tongue around it.

This drove you crazy and caused your hips to jive and squirm desperately.

"Yeah? you're cute.."

He grabbed your thighs, his claws digging into them as he pulled you closer; shoving his tongue deeply into you. Eragon groaned softly, twisting his tongue around to reach the depths of you.

Your legs shook softly, and you tried to wrap them tightly around his head to pull him closer. you looked up and smiled as you remembered his horns, then pulled him by the horns. This forced his tongue deeper into you, causing you to cry out softly.

The dragon gently spread your hole, sat up on his knees, and pushed his tip against it. You pushed your hips down against him. you'd been thinking about it all day, and your hole grabbed him hungrily.

Eragon held onto you and pushed himself slowly halfway in, both of you letting out lewd moans as you felt each other.

"I- I need to go faster -"

He groaned, and he began to quicken the pumps of his hips.

"I'm sorry..."

He panted.

"I can't help it…"

You pushed your face into one of his pillows, trying to hide the pleasure that brought you. He 'couldn't help it'. It drove you crazy to hear.

"It's okay.. you can go faster -"

You muttered this breathily and arched your back for him. You tried to move your hips with his, leaking with pleasure as cum gently dripped down your thighs, and his cock was throbbing against your guts.

You could feel yourself approaching orgasm as you push your hips back into Eragon for encouragement.

His claws dug deeper into your hips as he began ramming himself into you, loud pronouns and moans spilled out of you.

"Fuck yes! Just like that! You feel so good!"

"So do you.."

The dragon muttered as he leaned forward, resting his weight along your back before he grabbed your thighs and plunged his knot deeply into your hole.

Hot cum spilled into your guts, which caused your legs to shake as your orgasm flashed through your whole body. You once again forced your face into the pillow to avoid the lewd noises from erupting from you too loudly.

He milked himself gently, tugging his knot lightly against your hole.

"F-fuck you're so tight."

Eragon chuckled softly and held you still while he yanked himself out of you. Cum spilled down your thighs and he placed his paw over your hole, then tossed you over his shoulder.

The dragon carried you to his bathroom and gently laid you in his large, black, marbled bathtub. It was tremendous in size and comfortable, and his gentility made you smile.

He carefully filled a cup with warm water and asked you to spread your legs, and you did. He rinsed you off and helped you get clean, then ran you a proper bath.

"There we go. You relax and I'm going to take a shower. you can spend the night, or i could drive you home."

"I'd like to stay the night if you dont mind."

Eragon nodded and kissed your head as he walked behind the bath where the shower was. The shower doors and sides were fully see-through glass, which made him very happy. He enjoyed watching you relax.

Once you were both clean and dry, the dragon tossed you a ginormous oversized shirt and a pair of his sweatpants, thankfully with a string and elastic to help hold them up.

Eragon stayed shirtless and slipped on a pair of boxers, walked up to you, and slipped his hands around your waist.

"You're so warm."

You heard a soft churring sound emit from his chest under your head. It sounded like purring but slightly different.

The dragon playfully tossed you over his shoulder, then threw you down onto the bed wrestling style.

"Rahh!"

You giggled and wrapped your arms around him tightly as he kissed all over your face and neck.

"Let's get some rest… I'll drive you home in the morning."

You nodded and slipped under the covers and draped your leg over his midriff, enjoying his cold scales against your warm skin. He continued his rhythmic churring, held you closely, and was soon snoring softly, huffing smoke from his nostrils.

You could've sworn there was a bright flash from the window, and you sat up in bed; trying to focus your eyes on the darkness past the glass. You tried to shake Eragon awake, but he was sleeping too deeply to even act disturbed. You rolled your eyes, slipped out of bed, and walked over to the window slowly.

Your heart sank to your stomach as you tried to look around, pressing your face to the glass.

To be continued...

_________________

There's a male orc character inspo beneath V however- none of the other things save for some reason? no clue fr.

The other is by Gruvu on Tumblr for someone's Oc.

If you enjoy! Feel free to ask for different monsters to see! <3

[ickyrafe]

cw -> abuse / domestic violence.

the idea of rafe who’s never been an ideal boyfriend for you despite your attempts to fix him— getting him into rehab programs when things are especially bad, making him appointments for anger management & to speak to someone about what’s been going on in his head since he was little.

you’ve heard it all about how he’s gonna change, how you’re going to get a pretty ring and be his princess forever, but then he crosses a line and you realize how dumb you’ve been all along that very second his palm comes down on your already teary face. the wet slap and residual stinging— burning— sends you into a panic but it’s too late for all that when that same hand is already wrapped around your throat so tightly that you have to dig your manicured nails into his wrist for any kind of protection.

“you’re not fucking leavin’ me,” he snarls, whiskey on his breath as his pupils dilate even wider. as if he enjoys this more than any substance he’s ever tried to numb out the pain, “no one will want you— not when they know i’m always gonna be in the picture.”

[hopeless-eccentric]

i dont do a lot of book recs on here (i think ive done one before?) but the Henry Rios books by Michael Nava are so criminally underrated!

They're these mystery novels from the 1980s-1990s about a gay, Latino lawyer (Henry Rios, our protagonist/narrator) solving mysteries--usually while trying to prove his client's innocence. He's a long-suffering idealist written as this kind of hard-boiled detective.

This is actually something the whole series tackles, subverts, and deconstructs in a really interesting way! Instead of being this stoic detective, the archetype gets broken down in a lot of really fascinating and human ways earnestly discussing love, grief, intergenerational trauma, racism, homophobia, illness/disability, toxic masculinity, and substance abuse.

What I love is that these books realize that the hard-boiled detective is stuck in a point of hurt and trauma, and so the Henry Rios series makes a big deal out of fighting tooth and nail to GET BETTER--whatever it takes to improve yourself and your surroundings. While the books maintain a lot of the dark and morose vibe of the original genre (especially given the looming, perpetual grief of AIDS-era queer lit), they always come back to a death match against apathy. It's really moving stuff, especially as the books take this approach to Henry's recovery from alcoholism.

if you're interested in queer history, the books are in touch with queer legal/political history during the HIV/AIDS crisis. The first few books have been rewritten/published as well since Michael Nava's retirement, so I think a comparative reading could be really interesting. For the record, Nava was a civil rights lawyer, so this is all done REALLY well (not to mention the legal drama is engaging, theatrical, petty, gutting, and sometimes hilarious).

if you're interested in detective fiction, they're brilliant deconstructions of the genre. instead of taking the depressed alcoholic white guy with repressed desire for male companionship at face value, the series considers a gay Latino man struggling with machismo, racism and homophobia, intersectional identity, and processing/recovering from grief, childhood trauma, alcoholism, and Catholicism.

Stylistically, the books are smart, poetic, introspective, dark, and witty. There's a lot of suffering, but there are also a lot of intense moments of joy and catharsis that feel really earned.

Also, if you read the rewrites. uh. there's a lot of smut! Happy retirement, Mr. Nava!

[lanassgirlll]

Love and Pain

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story about love, loss and a second chance.

Warnings: substance abuse, miscarriage, mental health struggles, emotional distress, angst(let me know if I am missing any)

AN: This story may be triggering for some people so please proceed with caution!

You and Bucky had been together for two years. You weren’t an Avenger or anything remotely close to that. You were just a kindergarten teacher, who loved her quiet life. Your days were filled with laughter from your students, your evenings spent with the man you loved, in the cozy apartment you shared.

The two of you had built a life together - a mix of his stoic practicality and your vibrant warmth. The apartment reflected that: his sparse military mementos were softened by your touches - art from your students, soft throw blankets, mismatched photo frames. For a time, it felt perfect.

Until it didn’t.

The change wasn’t sudden, not at first.

It was the subtle shifts in his behavior that you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore.

Bucky had always been a soldier, in one way or another. You knew that. You understood the demands of his work, the weight of his responsibility as an Avenger. But it wasn’t just the missions themselves that were wearing on you anymore. It was the way they’d taken over his life - and in turn, yours.

At first, it was just a few days at a time. A mission here or there, where he’d be gone for a week or so, and you’d try to fill the gap with work, friends, hobbies, whatever you could. He’d call, send the occasional text, and when he came home, you’d throw yourself into making the most of the time you had together. But now.. now it was different.

He’d been gone for weeks - sometimes over a month - and there had been nothing. No calls. No texts. It was always the same story when he came back: "The mission ran longer than expected," or "We had to stay off the grid." He was always apologetic when he finally resurfaced, but the excuses felt hollow now. It was as if you had become an afterthought in his chaotic life, a person he’d get back to when he had a spare moment.

You tried to be understanding. You knew what he did wasn’t easy. You knew the stakes were high, that lives were on the line, that his work as an Avenger was something he couldn’t just walk away from. But the loneliness was unbearable.

It wasn’t just the silence when he was gone - it was the absence of him when he was home, too. Even when he returned, it felt like he was still somewhere else. He’d walk through the door with that tired look in his eyes, like he hadn’t seen a decent night's sleep in ages, and he’d settle into his old routine: training, reading through mission reports, checking in with the team. He was physically there, but emotionally? You might as well have been alone.

Some days, you felt like you didn’t even know the man you were living with anymore.

You would wait, and wait. For him to come home. For him to talk to you. For him to show up in the way he used to. And when he did return, you'd try to be the same woman you were before - eager to make him dinner, excited to talk about your day, hoping that maybe tonight he’d want to sit down with you, to hold you, to laugh like you used to.

But there was always something in his eyes - a faraway look. An urgency. An undercurrent of somewhere else, someone else. Every time he left again, you felt it. His absence didn't just physically separate you, it chipped away at something inside you, too.

Tonight, Bucky had just returned after being gone for over three weeks. You’d stayed up late, waiting for him. The clock on the wall ticked away, each passing second heavier than the last.

When the door finally opened, you didn’t feel the usual rush of excitement you once had. You didn’t feel the familiar warmth in your chest at the sight of him. Instead, there was just a hollow ache.

“Hey”, he said quietly, dragging his duffel bag inside, looking exhausted as always. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, and his body language was stiff as he stood there in the doorway.

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe a hug, maybe even just the smallest hint of affection. Something. Instead, you remained seated on the couch, staring at him, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you.

“You okay?”, Bucky asked, as if he didn’t already know. He’d been gone for too long. How could he not know?

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. “I’m fine”, you said, but the words felt empty as they left your mouth. You weren't fine, but then again, you hadn’t been in weeks. Maybe months. And the more you tried to convince yourself you were okay, the more you realized how much you were breaking.

“Work been good?”, he asked, as if he was trying to fill the space between you with small talk, with questions that didn’t actually mean anything.

You nodded, the lie slipping so easily off your tongue, you almost believed it yourself. “Yeah, it’s been fine.” You’d barely thought about work these past few weeks. How could you? You couldn’t think of anything but him - him being gone, him being so far away, so unreachable.

There was a long silence, one that stretched between you like a thick, suffocating fog. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed him to see you, to hear you, to understand how you were feeling.

“Bucky, this.. this isn’t working”, you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re gone so much, and when you’re here, you’re not really here. I don’t -" You swallowed again, feeling the lump in your throat, "I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this”.

His eyes softened, either that, or you were so desperate for any kind of affection, that your mind was starting to play tricks on you.

The guard he’d built around himself was still there, so tight it was like trying to break through steel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” He paused, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t realize it was getting to you like this”.

“You didn’t realize?” Your voice cracked, the frustration and hurt seeping through. “Bucky, you’ve been gone for weeks at a time without even telling me where you are. You’re never here. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep doing this, waiting for you, when you don’t even see me anymore”.

You watched his face change as the words hit him. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there, looking at you with a mix of guilt and confusion. You could see the internal battle happening in his head, the familiar struggle between his duty and his desire to make things right with you. But the truth was, it was too late for apologies.

“I love you, Bucky”, you whispered, your voice shaking now. “I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being all alone just because you’re too busy saving the world to remember I exist”.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a long time, he didn’t say a word. The silence between you felt unbearable, like the air had thickened, each moment stretching out further and further, until neither of you knew what to say or how to fix what had been broken.

One night, a few weeks later, Bucky came home for a fleeting reprieve before another mission. You had stayed up late, as you always did when he was away, waiting for the sound of his key turning in the lock. When he finally walked through the door, exhaustion etched into his features, your heart ached for him and for the distance that seemed to grow wider with each passing mission.

That night, desperation fueled your actions. The words you had been holding back melted away, replaced by a need to feel connected, to remind both of you of the love that had brought you together in the first place. You clung to him, pouring all your loneliness, your love, and your frustration into the embrace. The physical intimacy between you reignited as if it could mend what had been broken. The kisses were fervent, the touches electric, and for a moment, you felt as though the pieces of your fractured relationship had been glued back together, if only temporarily. In those stolen moments, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay.

Two weeks after he left again, you found yourself staring at a small plastic stick in your trembling hands, the word pregnant displayed in bold, unmistakable letters. The wave of emotions was overwhelming - shock, fear, disbelief, and above all, a glimmer of hope. You sank to the bathroom floor, clutching the test to your chest, tears streaming down your face. It felt surreal, as though the universe had offered you a fragile lifeline. You whispered to yourself, "This is it. This will bring us closer".

Your first instinct was to call Bucky. You dialed his number with shaking fingers, but it went straight to voicemail. You left a message, your voice shaky but tinged with cautious excitement. "Bucky, it’s me. Please call me when you can. It’s important. I.. I have something to tell you". You sent a few texts as well: "I need to talk to you. It’s good news" and "Please, call me when you’re able".

The days stretched on with no response. The silence grew heavier, more suffocating with each passing hour. You couldn’t sleep, your mind filled with questions and fears. Was he safe? Had something happened to him? Or worse, was he choosing not to reply? You tried to reason with yourself - he was likely on a mission, unreachable, off the grid. But the rationalizations did little to calm the storm within you.

Then, a few weeks after discovering the pregnancy, you were jolted awake in the dead of night by a searing pain in your abdomen. Panic gripped you as you felt the damp warmth spreading beneath you. When you turned on the bedside lamp, the sight of blood pooling between your legs stole the air from your lungs. A choked sob escaped your lips as you scrambled to reach your phone, dialing for emergency services with shaking hands.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, your heart pounding so loudly you could hardly hear your own thoughts. Every bump in the road sent fresh waves of pain coursing through you. By the time you arrived, your vision was clouded by tears. Nurses and doctors swarmed around you, their voices a mix of calm instructions and urgent medical jargon.

"Miss, we need to get you into an exam room immediately", one nurse said, her voice gentle but firm as she helped you onto a stretcher. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but clutch your abdomen and nod weakly.

In the brightly lit examination room, a doctor - a middle-aged woman, with kind eyes and a steady demeanor - introduced herself. "I’m Dr. Reyes. We’re going to do everything we can to figure out what’s going on, okay? I need you to tell me when the pain started".

You struggled to form words through the haze of fear and pain. "I.. woke up. It just started.. and then the blood". Your voice broke, and fresh tears streamed down your face.

Dr. Reyes nodded, her expression compassionate but professional. "I’m going to do an ultrasound now to see what’s happening. Try to stay as still as you can".

The gel was cold against your skin as she moved the probe across your abdomen. You stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the terrified pounding of your heart. After a few moments, the doctor sighed softly, her brow furrowed.

"I… I’m so sorry", she said gently. "It looks like you’ve experienced a miscarriage. There’s no heartbeat".

The words shattered something inside you. "No", you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, please, you have to check again. It’s… it’s too soon".

Dr. Reyes placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I wish I had better news. We’re going to take care of you and make sure you’re stable, but I’m so sorry for your loss".

The rest of the night passed in a haze of procedures and whispered condolences. Nurses came and went, offering quiet reassurances as they tended to you. But no words could reach you. You felt hollow, as if the world had drained you of everything that mattered.

When you were finally discharged, you returned to the apartment, though it no longer felt like home. The silence was deafening, and the weight of your grief pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. Everywhere you looked, there were traces of him - his jacket draped over a chair, his book left half-read on the coffee table. And now, there was the weight of what could have been. The space that had once been your sanctuary now felt like a tomb, echoing with memories of a life you could no longer bear to face.

You couldn’t stay. The emptiness was too much, the reminders too painful. You packed your belongings with a heavy heart, each item a reminder of what you were leaving behind. The sound of the door closing behind you was final, a punctuation mark on the chapter of your life you had so desperately wanted to salvage. You returned to your old apartment, a place that felt foreign now, and sank into the isolation, leaving behind the life you had fought so hard to build.

Two months passed. Your world had crumbled into ash, leaving nothing but grief and emptiness in its wake. You were consumed by the pain. It was relentless, wrapping around you like a vice. The loss of your baby haunted you, the loneliness gnawed at your spirit, and the anger - anger at Bucky, at yourself, at the universe - was a constant, bitter companion.

At first, you tried to function, clinging to the routines that once brought you joy. But the weight of it all was too much. You quit your job. The sight of children, their laughter, their innocence, was unbearable. You shut out your friends - what few you had left. Their well-meaning concern felt like judgment. You wanted to scream, to tell them they didn’t understand.

And so, you spiraled.

The days blurred together, a haze of pain and self-destruction. You started with wine in the evenings, telling yourself it was to help you sleep, but soon the single glass turned into an entire bottle. Then another. It wasn’t long before mornings became indistinguishable from nights, the alcohol flowing steadily to keep the ache at bay.

But it wasn’t enough. The ache remained, clawing at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. So, you turned to pills - prescriptions left over from past injuries, over-the-counter sleep aids, anything you could get your hands on. At first, it was one or two, just enough to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. But as the days dragged on, you found yourself reaching for more. A handful here, a few more there, until the numbness became the only thing you could feel.

You stopped eating, the thought of food turning your stomach. A cup of coffee, a piece of toast - that was all you could manage, if anything at all. The sharp pangs of hunger became just another sensation to push down with pills and alcohol. Your body grew weaker, but you didn’t care.

Sleep was elusive, coming in fitful bursts if it came at all. More often, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, your mind racing through memories of what you’d lost. You couldn’t stop replaying the moment in the hospital, the sterile room, the doctor’s solemn expression. It haunted you.

When you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back. Your once vibrant skin was pale and sallow, your cheeks sunken, your eyes hollow. Your hair hung in limp, unwashed strands around your face. Clothes that once fit snugly now hung loose on your frame, a stark reminder of how much weight you’d lost.

But none of it mattered. You didn’t care. Each time you looked at yourself, all you could see was failure - failure as a partner, as a mother, as a human being. The thought whispered to you like a cruel taunt, feeding your belief that this was your punishment, your penance for losing the baby, for being too weak to hold everything together.

The cycle continued, day after day. You stopped checking the calendar, stopped answering your phone. The world outside faded, replaced by the dim, oppressive cocoon of your apartment. Empty bottles and pill packets littered the counters and floor. Curtains stayed drawn, keeping out the daylight.

Each day, you sank further into the void, certain there was no way out. You weren’t living - you were merely existing, drowning in the belief that this was all you deserved.

Bucky returned two months later, his body weary but his mind sharp with anticipation. The mission had been relentless, every moment filled with danger, leaving no room for distractions. He hadn’t had access to his phone or any way to contact you. But the moment he landed, the mission finally over, he powered on his phone.

The screen lit up with a flood of missed calls, dozens upon dozens of unread messages from you. Panic gripped him like a vice. His heart pounded as he scrolled through the notifications, unable to focus on any one message. The timestamps told a story of desperation - calls in the dead of night, texts sent minutes apart, some marked with “URGENT” in all caps.

He didn’t have the strength to read through them. The fear twisting in his chest made it impossible. Instead, he called you immediately, his fingers trembling as he punched in your number.

“Come on”, he muttered, pressing the phone to his ear. The line rang once, twice, before a cold, automated voice told him the number was no longer in service.

“No. No, no, no”. He tried again, and again, each time greeted by the same response. His breathing quickened, panic rising like a tide.

“Come on, Y/N”, he pleaded under his breath, redialing in disbelief. Each failed attempt left him more frantic. What had happened? Why wasn’t your phone working?

By the time he reached the apartment, his heart was racing, his thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. He fumbled with his keys, cursing under his breath as his shaking hands made it difficult to unlock the door. Finally, he shoved it open and stepped inside.

The silence hit him like a physical blow. The air was stale, carrying a faint, sour odor that hinted at how long the space had been untouched. His boots scuffed against the dusty hardwood floor as he stepped further inside, his voice cracking as he called out, “Y/N? Are you here?”

There was no response.

His eyes darted around the living room. The furniture was coated in a thin layer of dust. A coffee cup sat abandoned on the table, its contents dried to a brown stain. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch, as if you’d tossed it aside and never come back for it.

“Y/N?” he called again, louder this time. His voice echoed eerily in the empty space.

The kitchen was next. The sink was filled with dirty dishes, the counters cluttered with empty bottles and pill packets. His chest tightened as he took it all in. Something was wrong - terribly, horribly wrong.

He moved toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last. When he pushed the door open, his breath caught in his throat. The sight before him was chaos: clothes strewn across the floor, the bed unmade, sheets tangled and stained. A broken lamp lay on the ground, its shattered pieces scattered across the carpet. A drawer from the dresser had been yanked out and left hanging, its contents spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus”, he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stepped inside, his heart pounding. “Y/N?” His voice cracked, a mix of fear and desperation.

He reached for his phone, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. He dialed Steve, his voice tight with panic as soon as the call connected. “Steve, it’s Bucky. I can’t find her. She’s not here. The apartment - it’s a mess. I don’t know where she is.”

Steve’s voice was calm but urgent on the other end. “Breathe, Buck. We’ll figure this out. Did you check her old place? Friends? Family?”

“No”, Bucky said, his words tumbling over each other. “I don’t even know where to start. Her phone’s disconnected. There’s dust everywhere. Steve, it looks like she’s been gone for weeks.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room.

“We’ll find her”, Steve reassured him. “Just stay calm. Start with any clues you can find. We’ll get through this.”

Bucky ended the call and looked around the room again, forcing himself to focus. His sharp mind, trained for tracking and reconnaissance, kicked in. He scanned for anything that might lead him to you - a note, an address, anything. His gaze fell on an envelope half-hidden under a pile of clothes. He snatched it up and found a crumpled bill for a hospital visit, dated weeks ago.

A sick feeling churned in his stomach as he read the address. “What the hell happened to you, doll?” he muttered under his breath, clutching the paper tightly. Without wasting another second, he bolted out of the apartment, the hospital record clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

Desperation drove him like a storm, relentless and consuming. Bucky worked through the night, poring over every lead, scouring every clue. He dug through old letters, hospital records, even your discarded social media accounts - anything that might point him to where you’d gone.

It was the hospital record that led him to your old address. A part of him hesitated when he saw the crumpled paper in his hands. Was this really where you would go? Why hadn’t you called anyone else? Guilt gnawed at him with every thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find you.

When he finally stood outside your apartment door, his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. What if he was too late? What if something had happened to you? His knuckles rapped against the door, each second of silence dragging like an eternity.

“Please”, he whispered under his breath, his hand tightening into a fist. He knocked again, louder this time.

The sound of shuffling from the other side made his breath hitch. The door creaked open a moment later, and his heart stopped.

You stood there, a shadow of the person he remembered. Your hair was unkempt, matted in places, and your skin was pale and sallow. Dark circles hung under your eyes, which were red-rimmed and hollow. Your frame was gaunt, your clothes hanging loosely on your body as if they belonged to someone else.

Bucky froze, unable to form words, his throat tight with emotion. “Doll..” he breathed, the sound barely audible.

You stared at him for a long moment, and then a bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

The venom in your tone sliced through him. He stepped forward instinctively, but you raised a trembling hand to stop him, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but trembling with worry. His blue eyes darted over you, taking in every detail - the gauntness of your face, the trembling in your hands, the faint smell of alcohol that clung to you. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

Your laugh turned bitterer, harsher. “What’s going on? You’re asking me that?” You shook your head, your voice breaking. “You happened, Bucky. You left, and everything fell apart. Everything.”

“I didn’t know -” he started, his voice heavy with guilt, but you cut him off.

“Of course, you didn’t” you snapped, stepping back into the dimly lit apartment. “You were too busy saving the world to notice that your own world was crumbling.”

He stepped inside cautiously, his heart shattering as he took in the mess. Empty bottles of alcohol and pill packets were scattered on the coffee table and floor. The air was thick with the stench of neglect, a sour mix of spilled liquor and stale air. The curtains were drawn tightly, plunging the room into shadows despite the afternoon sun.

“Y/N..” His voice trailed off, his throat tightening as he stared at the devastation around him.

“Don’t say my name like that�� you muttered, retreating further into the room. “Like you’re surprised. Like you didn’t cause this.”

“Cause this?” he repeated, stepping closer. His voice cracked, his words pleading. “Y/N, I didn’t know. If I’d known, I never -”

“But you didn’t!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain as you spun to face him. Your eyes, hollow yet blazing with anger, locked onto his, and Bucky swore he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “You weren’t here, Bucky. I called. I texted. Over and over, I begged you to come back. Do you know how many times I sat in this apartment, staring at my phone, praying for some sign that you were still out there? And where were you? Fighting someone else’s battles while my entire life was falling apart.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Bucky flinched like you’d struck him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. The look on your face - the raw betrayal, the fury - left him at a loss.

“I didn’t know” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I -”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know” you spat, taking a step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “You shut me out, Bucky. You didn’t care enough to see what was happening to me.”

“That’s not true” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to bridge the chasm between you. “I cared - I care! I thought I was doing what was right -”

“Right for who?” you interrupted, your voice venomous. “For you? For the Avengers? Because it sure as hell wasn’t right for me. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day, and wonder if today is the day I’ll finally get that call, informing me that you're dead? To feel like you’re carrying the weight of everything, completely alone, while the person who promised to love you is nowhere to be found?”

Bucky’s face twisted in anguish, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “I didn’t know it was this bad” he murmured, his voice trembling. “If I’d known -”

“But you didn’t” you cut him off, your voice laced with bitterness. “You didn’t, because you weren’t here.”

He stepped toward you, his hands outstretched in a desperate plea. “Y/N, I’m here now. Please, let me -”

“Let you what?” you demanded, your voice rising as months of pent-up anger and heartbreak poured out of you. “Fix it? Make it better? You can’t, Bucky. You can’t just show up now, after everything, and expect me to be okay.”

“Please”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “Just tell me what happened. Let me understand.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. “You want to understand? You think you can fix this if I just lay it all out for you?”

His eyes searched yours, his expression raw and desperate. “I need to know” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t lose you. Please, Y/N.”

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. He noticed your shallow breathing, the way your shoulders quaked.

“I lost everything” you finally said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Piece by piece, it all fell apart.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you walked to the table, picking up an empty pill bottle and turning it over in your hand. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in the dark, wondering if you should just swallow one more and end it? Do you have any idea what it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the person staring back?”

He took a shaky step forward. “Y/N, don’t -”

“Don’t what?” you snapped, slamming the bottle down. “Don’t tell you the truth? You want to waltz back in here and play the hero, but you don’t even know the damage you left behind.”

His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the empty bottles, the crumpled blankets on the couch, the shattered picture frame on the floor. “I know I’ve hurt you” he said, his voice barely audible. “But I’m here now. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

You laughed again, but this time it turned into a sob. “You don’t get it” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not just me. It was never just me.”

He froze, his stomach twisting. “What are you saying?”

You turned to face him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There was a baby, Bucky” you said, your voice trembling. “Our baby. And I lost it. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain, and there was blood - so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified, and I was alone. You weren’t there.”

The words hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands as he tried to process what you’d just said. “Oh, God” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Oh, God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving with sobs. “I needed you” you said, your voice cracking. “I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and you weren’t there.”

He looked up at you, his face streaked with tears, his expression raw and broken. “I failed you” he choked out. “I failed you and our baby. But please, Y/N, don’t shut me out. Let me stay. Let me try to make this right.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t make it right. You can’t bring the baby back. You can’t take away this pain.”

“No, I can’t” he said, his voice steady despite the tears. “But I can stay. I can be here for you, for us, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but please, Y/N. Don’t push me away.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, the war inside you raging. Finally, you sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know if I can do this”. you whispered.

He moved to sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours before gently taking it. “You don’t have to do it alone” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

And for the first time in months, you felt the faintest flicker of hope, a fragile ember in the darkness that had consumed you. It wasn’t an all-encompassing warmth or an instant relief, it was a hesitant, wavering thing, as if it might vanish at the slightest gust of doubt. But it was there. And after everything, even that small spark felt monumental.

You glanced down at his hand, rough and calloused yet so gentle as it cradled yours. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. For so long, you’d felt untethered, drifting through a sea of pain and loss with no anchor, but now - sitting beside him, his presence steady and unwavering - you felt a faint sense of grounding.

“It’s going to take time” you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. “I don’t know if I can just.. move on. Some days, I don’t even know how to keep going.”

“You don’t have to do it all at once” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion that thickened it. “We’ll take it one day at a time. One step at a time. Together.”

The word together hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You searched his face, half-expecting to see doubt or hesitation, but his gaze was steady, unwavering. He meant it. He truly meant it.

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t purely born of sorrow. They were a mixture of grief and something softer, something tentative that you hadn’t dared to feel in months - trust. “I’m scared, Bucky”. you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“So am I” he confessed, his voice breaking just slightly. “I’m scared I’ll mess up again. Scared I won’t be enough to help you heal. But I promise you, doll, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll be here - no matter what.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. They didn’t erase the pain or magically mend the wounds you carried, but they planted a seed of possibility. Maybe healing wasn’t about forgetting the hurt or pretending it didn’t exist. Maybe it was about facing it head-on, step by step, with someone by your side.

As you sat there, his presence anchoring you, the silence stretched but didn’t feel oppressive. It felt shared, almost comforting. His fingers tightened around yours slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The road ahead would be long and painful, filled with memories that would resurface and wounds that might never fully close. But for now, you let yourself lean into the moment, into him, and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward together. Not whole, not without scars, but together. And for now, that was enough.

[harbingrs]

Take away the sensation inside Bittersweet migraine in my head It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind I can't take this feeling anymore

Drain the pressure from the swelling This sensation's overwhelming Give me a long kiss goodnight And everything'll be alright Tell me that I won't feel a thing So give me Novacaine

[welcometogrouchland]

♫ I do what I want/Crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun/I don't need anything from anyone ♫

(ID in Alt) you guys ever think about your own posts and get upset?? Anyway Damian Wayne I love you I'm so sorry your life is like that

[seventeendeer]

this isn't at all meant to be condescending or finger-waggy because 100% we all have blind spots like this, but I'm really, really hoping that the people who never found Gaiman's approach to his own fandom concerning in any way will take this all as a learning moment.

he was an older, hyper-famous author engaging directly and frequently with an online audience of largely vulnerable young marginalized people. he presented himself as cultured and worldly, and made himself approachable as someone to go to for advice, encouragement and "wisdom." his manner of speech was extremely pathos-heavy and clearly intended to be comforting and encouraging in exactly the way his target demographic needed it to be to swallow every word. the way he spoke about stories and creativity was designed to make young creative hopefuls feel special and important, while sweeping real analytical techniques under the rug - in hindsight, likely so no one would think too critically about the disturbing amount of patriarchal abuse played for cheap shock value and voyerism in his own body of works.

Gaiman saw a target demographic that was desperate for an older creative role model to tell them they were worth something, and he exploited that pain to twist a narrative around himself where he was king and any critique leveled at him or his works were the enemy.

to be clear, he could have been innocent. he could totally have been just an out-of-touch old man saying nice things to people because he wanted to be kind and he thought he was a lot smarter than he really was. red flags are warning signs, not a surefire way to tell if someone is actually "secretly shitty."

but if you used to look up to him, PLEASE take this moment to revisit the ideas you absorbed from him. did you take his words to heart because they seemed to have objective merit? or did you take them to heart because it felt good to believe what he said? do you still hold these values? does knowing he was intentionally manipulating his online audience make you less certain? do you need more information from a different source before deciding one way or another?

again, I'm just really, really hoping people on here will take a moment to reevaluate the ideas and opinions he's injected into tumblr fandom culture, because his reach is immense and he has absolutely been manipulating popular perception of relevant topics to gain further influence and control the narrative around both his own and Pratchett's legacy. please, please take this moment to notice what he's been doing - and next time someone tries to pull the same shit, hopefully we'll be able to apply what we've learned from experience.

[loumandivorce]

trans malcolm is so. imagine if the person the most accepting of you was your serial killer dad

[stewykablooey]

lest we forget what kendall is really up to post-finale

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality

[softpadawan]

Kanan Jarrus, c. 12 BBY

[byanyan]

byan being extremely defensive of their substance abuse habits. byan being so very familiar with being looked down upon for drinking & doing drugs that they're terrified of those they've let close thinking less of them for for it. they've been kicked out of homes for it. they've been suspended & expelled from schools over it. they've had nasty things said and done to them because of it. it's only natural that they anticipate the worst from even those most important to them, so they tend to take steps to hide it where, around anyone else, they might instead broadcast it.

byan, upon being found out by someone close to them, getting either aggressively defensive or becoming a sobbing, apologizing mess.

[guavagyal]

at some point as an adult, you realize dating isn't worth it because a majority of people need to be on some illicit substance to get through the day and only narcissists get love in this hyper individualistic society

[clancyycat]

hiiii i’m a little drunk

[bridgeportbritt]

A Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center | Cypress, SimDonia

???: Who could be here for me? Mom and Dad would've called first.

Arabella nervous: Hey there...

???: Oh, my Watcher! Arabella??

Arabella: Hey, Alex.

Alex: I can't believe you're- how did you-? Oh, my Watcher.

Arabella: I hope you're not mad.

Alex: Mad? no! I'm confused, but I'm so happy to see you! How'd you find me here?

Arabella: Umm... we're best friends with the Queen.

Alex: Really? Diana sent you here?

Arabella: We've been worried about you, so she had someone do some digging. Once we found you here, we knew we needed to see you in person. Diana wishes she could be here, but..

Alex: I understand. Gosh, I'm just happy to see you. Sorry, I said that already. Let's sit and catch up.

Alex: So, how is Diana? You've seen her recently?

Arabella: Yeah, she's doing good. Busy, of course. Seems like she's been pregnant forever. Won't be long now.

Alex: Aw, and you?

Arabella: Well, we just had little Madeliene not to long ago. I don't think I've seen you since I had Jayme.

Alex: Wow, three little ones? You guys aren't wasting no time. Gosh, I feel like I've missed a lot.

Arabella: Yeah, it was like you fell off the face of the earth there. What happened?

Alex: Right... well, it's kind of a long story, but after the wedding fiasco... I was really struggling.

Alex upset: I tried my best to keep it together for the coronation. It was just... seeing her again. Knowing that because of me... my best friend almost...

Arabella: Alex, no one blames you for that.

Alex: Yeah, I kept trying to tell myself that. But, after the coronation.. I just... kind of went off the deep end.

The rest of this post describes substance abuse, alcohol, and drugs. Please read at your own risk.

Alex: The partying, the drinking, the drugs. I was spiraling out of control hard and fast. I- I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Arabella: Oh, Alex...

Alex: I was just so torn up with guilt and I hated myself for even dating that guy. I felt so violated and used. And I just let everybody down once again with my stupid choices.

Arabella sobbing: I'm so sorry you were going through that, Alex! We should've paid more attention and been there for you!

Alex: No, don't think that, Arabella, really. You were living your life! I was a mess and isolating myself on purpose. Eventually, my parents caught on and sent me here.

Arabella: I'm so glad for that. I... know life is crazy and we don't see each other as much, but... I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend.

Alex: Thanks, Belle. Even though being here sucked at first, it's working its magic, I guess. I've been sober for 5 months, therapy 3 times a week, group twice, activities up the ass.

Arabella: That's amazing, Alex. I'm so proud of you!

Alex: Thanks. Plus, I kind of met someone..

Arabella: Oh, really?

Alex: Yeah, his brother's a patient here. But, my dad's company works with his. He owns a clothing brand. Or "lifestlye apparel" as he likes to call it. He's cool.

Arabella: He sounds like the most normal guy you've ever dated.

Alex laughs: I know, right? No "salarypersons" from Mt. Komorebi this time around. We're just friends for now. Gotta stay focused on the program. But, I only have 3 months left, so... who knows?

Arabella: Wow, that's a really mature way to go about it. I am so impressed, Alex. You're killing it! You're so much stronger than you realize. I can't wait to see how you flourish after this.

Alex: Thanks, I'm excited to. Feels like - ugh - a fresh start.

Arabella chuckles: Ah, that's why they call this place that... Well, care to show me around? Let me into Alex's world?

Alex: Sure, since it's a little less messy.